As my friends know, I’m a rabid Sox fan. One of my favorite things about going to Fenway is the people watching.  Girls on dates, trying to impress their boyfriends that they’re sports fans but being given away by their glam outfits.  Parents taking small kids to their first games, introducing them to what I always hope will be a lifelong love of the team.  Groups of friends sitting together, enjoying drinks and rooting on the home nine. Which brings me to this post.  Beer, obviously, is the drink of choice for 99 percent of Fenway’s imbibers. But what about that other one percent who now have access to an increasingly broad range of beverages as Sox ownership appeals to a more diverse fan base (yes, pink hats, I’m talking to you).  I’ve lately seen margaritas, daiquiris and malt beverages for sale…along with wine.  I was really startled the first time I saw a woman drinking wine at the game, and burning with curiosity at the same time: where did she get the wine?  What was she drinking?  Was it any good?

I persuaded Wine Gal to join me at the game last night to uncover the truth about the “Wines of Fenway Park.”  I’d already done some reconnaissance work at an earlier game to see where wine could be purchased (turns out, it’s available at just about every beer stand).  Did they offer several varieties?  Did the spirit of joie de vivre that permeates Fenway make even so-so wines tolerable?

Wine Gal and I decided to first prime our palates  with a stop at Island Creek Oyster Bar in Kenmore Square.  I can’t recommend the restaurant highly enough.  A fantastic, diverse and really affordably-priced wine and beer selection.  Tasty bivalves.  Lobster rolls to die for.  We enjoyed glasses of delicious sparkling Muscadet that, truth be told, spoiled us for just about whatever wine adventures were coming our way next inside the park environs.

So, on to our mission.  We stopped at the first beer stand inside to park to order our wines: Woodbridge Chardonnay and Merlot.  The server pretty much summed it up when she asked if we “wanted ice with the wine?”  We declined, shuffled off to our seats and began our tasting.

I think the last time either Wine Gal or I drank Woodbridge was 37,000 feet up.  The Merlot was initially so warm that it literally chilled during the game, becoming moderately more enjoyable.  The Chardonnay was big, flabby and pretty unforgettable.  But we weren’t alone in drinking the grape: in front of us and to the left, a gentleman in Madras shorts was enjoying a plastic cup of Chardonnay. Fascinating.  He apparently thought it was perfectly fine, since he got a second glass a few innings later.

Towards the end of the game, Wine Gal and I headed back to Island Creek for a final (infinitely more delicious) glass of the night.  All in all, the Fenway wine tasting just proved the validity of a t-shirt adage I saw a few weeks earlier.  A guy wore a shirt that featured the “Official Rules of Fenway Park” on the back.  One of the rules was “Drink beer, not Merlot.”  Point taken.