Going on 15 years now, Chile has been my “go to” for unearthing great wine values. A long time ago I discovered Casa Lapostolle’s “Cuvee Alexandre” line of wines, finding the Merlot particularly enjoyable — and fairly easy on the wallet. That said, when I happened upon this “Casa” Cabernet Sauvignon, my expectations were high — and I wasn’t disappointed.
If you went through Spanish 101 — or at least knew someone who had — then you know “casa” means “house.” My guess, then, is that the “Casa” line from Lapostolle refers to what they believe are “house wines.” If so, the moniker fits. For me, this supple, earthy, yet easy drinking Cab is a wine that I’d be very comfortable serving as my “house wine” (if such a thing existed under my roof).
On the nose you get typical Cabernet aromas: black berry, earth, some leather and tobacco. In the mouth the berry fruit is plump but just shy of “jammy,” and is well-balanced by ample acidity and mild tannins. There is a hint of vanilla sweetness that Americans love, which makes it appealing on its own, yet thankfully doesn’t get in the way of food matching. I successfully paired it with simply broiled filet mignon, and to me, the meat brought out the juicy fruit of the wine — I enjoyed it much more next to my plate than I did after my last bite.
These days, many “new world” Cabernet Sauvignons taste like they can be from anywhere, formulated in a laboratory of micro-oxygenation and oak chips. Thankfully, this Cab retains a sense of place. No, it doesn’t scream Rapel Valley (what does?), but if it were part of a blind tasting, I’m fairly confident I’d identify as Chilean. Perhaps that’s due to the touch (6%) of Carmenere and the slight hint of brooding Petit Verdot (1%) that helps fill out the blend (the wine is 89% Cabernet Sauvignon; bits of Cabernet Franc and Syrah also are involved). In short, this is what Cabernet from Chile is supposed to taste like. And at under ten bucks, it’s a steal, and the fact it comes with an easily resealable screwcap makes it all the more appealing. Pick up a bottle — or three — for your “house.”
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Disclosure: At the end of a wine tasting that shall remain nameless to protect the innocent, this was three-quarters of a leftover bottle gifted to me by a generous brand rep. No wines shall go to waste!
For whatever reason, I’ve always associated Concannon with Petite Sirah — perhaps because they were the 
Kaiken is a somewhat unknown wine brand from Argentina, which is a good thing and a bad thing. It’s a good thing, because it hasn’t yet been discovered and “taken off” in popularity, so the prices are still affordable (around ten bucks or less). It’s a bad thing, because 1) it can be hard to find on retailer’s shelves; and 2) since people don’t see it at their retailer, restaurants are able to mark it up ridiculously. For example, I paid $9.99 for this bottle at my local wine shop, after tasting it at $11 per glass at a local restaurant. Hey, I’m all for restaurants marking up wine to make money — they do have to store it, provide glassware, educate their staff, and make a profit. But there’s a point where markup can become obnoxious.
Every once in a while I get in the mood for a big, jammy, New World style red wine — something bursting with sweet red and black berry fruits — but at the same time, something that I don’t have to think much about. In other words, a bottle that I can pick up for around ten bucks or less and not feel guilty about drinking with a hamburger or cheap cut of steak. 
Yowza. And I feel it’s OK to use “yowza” as a descriptor for a wine called “Jip Jip Rocks”.
Do not be intimidated by the long, somewhat threatening words on the label of this wine. It’s nothing to be afraid of — in fact, it’s something with which you’re likely very familiar. 
Too often people walk right by that section of the wine shop where all the tall and skinny green bottles are shelved — also known as “Germany” and/or “Alsace”. Those confusing-looking labels with long, unpronounceable names like “Trockenberenauslese” and “Gewurztraminer” are too intimidating for the average wine buyer. And if that description fits you, don’t feel bad — those foreign marketers could do a much better job of making it easier for you.
In these difficult economic times, we wine geeks with short pockets must do a better job of hunting down the great values. Traditionally, I have looked to South America for dirt cheap deals on deliciously drinkable wines.
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