It's finally spring here in Nashville, which means that while there may be an unnatural amount of rain, we are also seeing blue skies for the first time in what feels like forever. I think that no matter how long I live in Nashville, I'll always be a true Californian (i.e. I'm kind of like a lizard and need to be in the sun constantly).

Today however I am here not only to wax on about springtime, but also to talk about an American classic: Moby Dick. Most people will remember Moby Dick as this hugely famous (and hugely boring) novel that may or may not have been assigned reading in high school or college. As fascinating as roughly 927 pages of insights on whaling may be, the book is mostly famous for the idea of a "white whale." A white whale basically refers to something that a person is obsessed with, but that remains out of reach. Although I'm no Captain Ahab, I too have my own white whale: Txakolina.

I first heard of Txakolina or Txakoli (it's pronounced CHOCK-oh-lee... I KNOW) on a wine blog I used to love (sadly it hasn't been updated since 2011). I'd never heard of it before, and since I'm suspicious of grapes I don't know (even if if sounded like my perfect white wine), it became my one-woman mission to try one. Sadly, that quest seemed fated to go unfulfilled. Until now.

Until I visited the Franklin Bottle Shop and found it innocently stored with the Spanish wines. It was a bit pricier than some of the wines on this blog ($17.99), but let me tell you, it was SO WORTH IT.

Today, I can stand up and say that I've not only tried Txakoli, it's delightful.

This is the face of someone who is completely delighted.

Txakoli is a white wine from the Basque region of Spain. The grapes themselves are called Hondarrabi Zuri (because unpronounceable words are a delight). Xarmant Txakoli was actually created in 1989 by 12 growers who decided to pool their grapely resources and establish the denomination (the equivalent of an AVA), so it's a really recent addition to the wine canon. Until the growing region was established, Txakoli was a local wine only, and was usually handmade. Although it's also gotten popular in the US it's still hard to find in winter, but did I mention it's worth the hunt?

This Txakoli is similar to an Albarino or Vinho Verde. Like those wines, it's light and crisp, but it's bottled with residual carbon dioxide so it also has a bit of bubble. It has this fresh green apple smell, with a bit of nectarine scent (like the smell when you buy one and it's not quuuuuite ripe) and a minerality that's incredibly refreshing. I tasted the same apple-y tones as well, but there is a zing as well, like lemon zest. As white whales go, this one absolutely lived up to the hype. Sorry/not sorry Captain Ahab.

OUR RATING: An absolutely perfect spring wine. Bright, light, and perfect for warmer days— Just add sunshine.

I'D DRINK THIS:

On one of the first warm nights since October, to celebrate before it gets too humid to be outside.

In the middle of the afternoon, while sitting in one of those plastic adirondack chairs you can buy at Kroger. Good book or good friend recommended.

At Easter brunch, probably with a quiche.

To celebrate your friend's new grill, while grilling shrimp.