Marglin on Taste

While some may think South Africa dangerous, its fine wines are safer bets than ever. The country’s exports to the United States essentially began a decade ago, when the trade embargo ended with the fall of apartheid. Given the power of the US wine market to drive sales and, in turn, make capital investment in wine attractive, the fine-wine industry has really operated in South Africa for only about 10 years.

That’s not to say South Africa is new to wine, which has actually been made there since 1659. During the 18th and early 19th centuries, as a British colony, South Africa supplied plenty of wine to England. But South Africa’s wine industry suffered when England and France opened up trade in 1861, and then was pretty much decimated by the plant-lice phylloxera and the Boer War. After World War I, the KWV wine cooperative formed. It operated pretty much as a monopoly, producing mediocre wines of little merit, and the country’s exports were nothing to write home about.

Indeed, for a time, things were so bad that millions of vines were uprooted in favor of alfalfa, which was used to feed the ostriches “” ostrich feathers being highly fashionable during the roaring ’20s. When the ostrich fad faded, KWV was left controlling production, import, and pretty much everything else. Then the US trade embargo closed South Africa’s major market for wine, leaving England and Holland as the only two significant customers to which South Africa could export. Since the embargo’s end, however, KWV’s grip has eased on the South African wine industry: there are now 71 cooperatives, 95-plus estate wineries (called wine farms) where grapes are grown and wine is made, and another 125-plus cellars (which produce wine from sourced grapes).

White wine (much of it steen, a clonal variety of chenin blanc) accounts for 80 percent of South African wine. Most of it has been mediocre. But now, with the markets reopened, fine South African wine is improving and may well reach its zenith in the next few years. Problems may lie ahead, however: investment has slowed, and many winemakers are fleeing for other, safer countries. Unless socioeconomic conditions change, South Africa may lose its best and brightest winemakers, and, without sufficient capital, the fine-wine industry could falter.

Absent the current climate of violence, South African conditions for winemaking “” in terms of terroir and weather “” are ideal. It’s the only wine region influenced by two oceans, the Indian and the Atlantic. Most of its premier areas lie to the west, surrounding Cape Town and the Cape of Good Hope. Its major wine regions have temperate maritime climates, including fog, sufficient but moderate rainfall (so almost no irrigation is needed), and diverse soils that yield ripe grapes. Indeed, unlike Europe, South Africa rarely has an off vintage (though the 1999 heat wave didn’t help).

At their best, many South African wines, especially the reds, are big wins in the $10-to-$30 range. (The reds have a smoky quality because of the high mineral content, especially iron, in the soil.) Cabernets, merlots, and shirazes dominate; the country’s even been trying its hand at pinot noir. There’s also a unique South African red called pinotage, which, after years of ranging from blah to undrinkable, has now become exciting. Pinotage was first developed in a laboratory in South Africa in 1925, when yields of pinot noir were considered too low, by crossing pinot noir with the high-yielding Rhône varietal cinsaut (actually the South African version, Cape cinsaut). The result was a fruity, higher-yielding wine with lots of smoky taste. Most good wine stores carry at least one pinotage, but be sure to discuss it with your merchant before purchasing.

Over the past decade, South Africa has had oak issues “” they often use too much, and it totally dominates the fruit. With younger, better winemakers, this problem has receded. South African sauvignon blancs now rival New Zealand’s; my favorites are Mulderbosch, Neil Ellis, and Paul Cluver from the Elgin region. Recently, I’ve even tasted some steens that I wouldn’t kick off my table. I also very much like Russell-Hamilton chardonnay, and Villiera, in Paarl, makes an excellent sparkling wine called Tradition.

South African wines give us many good reasons to be hopeful “” so drink some while the drinking is good.

2001 Paul Cluver Sauvignon Blanc Elgin. Grapefruity and zesty, quite lively, with plenty of acidity and zing. Exciting on the palate, full of fruit, with a faint bouquet of new-mown hay. Would go great with oysters (even fried) or other raw shellfish.

1999 Delheim Merlot Stellenbosch. Even in a hot year, you get a wine that is potent yet restrained, with ample black fruit, including blackberry and cassis: it says lamb or steak.

2000 Spice Route Pinotage. Called a cult wine, this is truly impressive: brimming with fruity flavors that stand up incredibly well to Creole and Cajun spices. I paired it with duck, and it also works wonders for Chilean sea bass. Very forward, quality American oak, chewy but not too dense “” the best pinotage I’ve tasted.

1998 Rust en Vrede Stellenbosch. This is a blend of 54 percent cabernet sauvignon, 29 percent shiraz, and the rest merlot. Sexy mid-palate, where the shiraz really rounds out the flavor; it’s still got loads of sharp oak, but the blend works harmoniously. The kind of wine that demands exotic meats, like elk, venison, or ostrich.

After popping corks for the Patriots and tasting however many hundreds of vintages at the Boston Wine Expo, you may be wondering what’s new in wine. Recently, I was lucky enough to attend the annual Zinfandel Festival and Tasting in San Francisco. My teeth are still purple. And I’m happy to say that zin is still in.

First, a quick disclaimer: we are not talking about white zinfandel, the sickly sweet blush wine that tastes like a fruit-soda beverage. When we say ” zin, ” we mean red zinfandel, which is almost uniquely American (of the handful of zinfandel producers outside the US, none is too successful). Often high in alcohol (rarely less than 14 percent), bold in fruit, and deep in color, zinfandel is called America’s ” heritage ” wine by the Zinfandel Advocates & Producers (ZAP), a nonprofit organization dedicated to promoting the varietal. ZAP, which throws the big tasting every year, is the informal governing body of all things zin.

Wherever zinfandel may have originated (this is in dispute, but much evidence points to Croatia “” not Italy, as some previously thought), it first came to prominence toward the end of the 19th century in California; today, 99 percent the world’s zinfandel is still grown and made in the Golden State. (Ironically, the word ” zinfandel ” was first used by Boston nursery owner Samuel Perkins in 1832, in an advertisement for cuttings of the varietal.) Zinfandel began as a popular table grape grown under glass in the Northeast; it migrated to California in the 1850s following the Gold Rush. By the 1880s, it was California’s leading wine varietal. (In 1998, zinfandel reestablished itself as California’s leading red varietal. This may be misleading, however, since the statistics include zinfandel grapes used to make the wildly popular white zinfandel, which is really a rosé.) For more info on the history of zin, visit ZAP’s Web site at www.zinfandel.org/about_zin/zindev.htm.

Outside the US, critics and drinkers are also taking to zinfandel. The British appreciate it, Aussies love it for its similarity to shiraz, South Americans like its resemblance to malbec, and even the South Africans are trying their hands at producing zin. The 1990s were particularly good to zin, which in the ’80s had been relegated to ” hobby ” wine or the white-hot hell of blush. ZAP’s first tasting, in 1992, featured the exceptional bottlings of ‘90 and ‘91. The zins of ‘92 and ‘93 were variable, but ‘94 and ‘95 were back-to-back blockbusters. The Parker-ization of American tastes was in full effect (Robert Parker, the world’s most influential wine critic, loves big, fruit-forward, powerful wines “” read: zin), the American wine industry had hit its stride, and zin became one of the big vessels in the US fleet as it sailed the great wine seas.

Hit-and-miss years were ‘96 through ‘98; many wines were overripe or too powerful. While zinfandel almost makes itself in good years, vintners sometimes overdo it and go for power and fruit over finesse. Then the wines become overwhelming, harder to pair with food, and less versatile. People liked the high-alcohol wines, and many zins seemed to become near-caricatures of themselves. Prices soared; where once you could buy exceptional zinfandels for $10 to $20, now most of the good stuff was at least $20, and many were more than $30, with cult-status wines like Turley and Martinelli costing $50-plus on release.

Today, however, the zinfandel makers seem to have righted their ships. Prices have stabilized (or dropped ever so slightly), and many producers are achieving an ever-elusive ” style. ” (Style is elusive in a winery’s early stages because it doesn’t necessarily know what to do with the fruit, or the fruit has not fully matured, or the winemaker lacks experience. European wineries often take centuries to establish their styles.) Some examples are Peachy Canyon (with its brambly, outdoorsy, approachable, laid-back Paso Robles style), Ridge (each-vineyard-is-its-own-world intellectualism, minimalism, balance, purity), Rosenblum (fruit, fruit, fruit), Turley (brute force, big oak, over the top), and Cosentino (adventurous, poetic, artistic flights of fancy). It’s good to see that, despite some less-than-stellar years, demand for zin remains strong, and the people who make and drink it still have such passion for it.

After tasting more than 150 zins from 1999 and 2000, I found ‘99 to be a pretty solid year, not quite ‘94 or ‘95, but right up there with ‘91, and ‘00 will be reminiscent of the wines of ‘90: not over-powering, but full. I like the trend of reeling in the fruit and dialing down the often-overpowering American oak. Some makers are using French oak, and not everyone feels compelled to use entirely new oak barrels for aging.

Each of the wineries I’ve mentioned (along with another favorite of mine, Cline) releases a handful of different, excellent zins. Beyond those, here are some zins that I’ve loved; most are available locally, either in restaurants or stores. If not, let your merchant know, or look online.

Acorn 1999; Amphora 2000; Benson-Ferry 2000; Bella 1999; Bradford Mountain 1999; Charter Oak 2000; De Loach OFS 2000; Easton 1999; Edmeades 1999; Joel Gott 2000; Grgich Hills 1999; Howell Mountain Vineyards 1999; Mara Reserve 1999; Marr 1999; Stryker 1999; Pezzi King Estate 1999; Seghesio 1999; Storybook 1999; Terraces 1999.

IN MY LAST column, we focused on port. Up the Douro River from Oporto, Portugal, where almost all port is made, across the Spanish border, the same river is called the Duero, and along the Duero grow the greatest Spanish grapes that make the greatest Spanish wines. Spain has, essentially, three main wine regions: Penedes/Priorat, all the way east, bordering on the Mediterranean Sea; Rioja, its most famous region, in the center of Spain; and, just to the west of that, the Ribera del Duero region, certainly one of the most improved and exciting wine regions in the world. Immediately west of the Ribera del Duero region is the newly named Vino de la Tierra de Castilla y León region, which is, for all intents if not purposes, the same as the Ribera del Duero.
Twenty years ago, the Denominacion de Origen (like many wine countries, Spain has official regions demarcated geographically) was established for the Ribera del Duero region, and when its wines got hot, the rest of the Spanish winemakers sat up and took notice. For most of the past century, Spain clung to tradition, and for the most part its wine were stuffy and a bit musty tasting, with different agendas between the grape-growers and the winemaking cooperatives or Bodegas (Bodegas are the companies, often family-run, that own the wineries: they do not, however, always own the vineyards, and must rely on deals with vineyard owners). Now, however, everyone seems to be pretty much on the same page, and while some traditions are respected, most of the winemaking is “New World” style, emphasizing fruit and new oak, with wines meant to be consumed early, and brimming with flavor. All of the regions mentioned above are making exciting red wines. I also like the premier white varietal from Spain, albarino, which works incredibly well with spicy seafood dishes, and Cava, Spanish sparkling wine. Both have a high acidity, and for inexpensive wine, they sure make seafood taste good.
The main Spanish red grape is tempranillo, which flourishes only in Spain, where it goes by many names, including Tinta Fino, Tinta del Pais, Tinto de Toro, etc. Like its white counterparts, it too is known for its refreshing acidity, which makes it a good companion for spicier foods. Tempranillo is redolent of wild strawberry and cherry flavors, mixed with elegant spices and some tobacco notes. In the Ribera del Duero region, tempranillo is sometimes blended with cabernet and/or merlot. In Penedes and the Priorat, one gets garnacha (grenache), carinena (carignane), and even some fine cabernet. Many Spanish wines can be had for less than $20, and some of the best $20-$30 wines in the world these days come from Spain; for less than $20, there are but a few wines I have enjoyed, most notably the Abadia Retuerta Rivola (a blend of 60 percent tempranillo and 40 percent cabernet: nice and fruity). For under $10, with the exception of a gamy Priorat from Onyx, I have not tried many Spanish wines worth writing home about. (If you have suggestions, by all means send them in.) [TW: Sometimes recs go in the body of the column when ther eis not so much to say about a wine, but it is still worth mentioning: in this case as exemplars of what exists under $20/$10]
Across Spain, the focus of winegrowers is on lowering yields (whereas once grape growers were paid by the ton) to make more intense, fruity wines. Although there are still wood-aging requirements for Spanish wines before they can be labeled Crianza, Reserva, or Gran Reserva (Crianza and Reservas must spend at least one year aged in oak, usually American oak, while Gran Reservas must spend at least two years aging in oak barrels), many winemakers now want their wines ready to drink immediately upon release.
1994, 1995, and 1996 were three stellar years in a row. 1997 was a bit of a bust, but 1998-2001 all appear to be very good to excellent. Prices have not risen much since 1999, and by and large, many Spanish wines are comparatively undervalued. While it was the case until about 1996 that all one could find locally were Riojas (the Wine Cask in Somerville was an early leader with these), now, in Massachusetts, thanks to Jorge Ordonez (by all accounts the leading importer of Spanish wines), there is a plethora of fine Spanish wines available, many in our under-$30 sweet spot. Indeed, most stores carry a good selection.
While I find Spanish reds in the New World-style quite versatile, both tempranillo and albarinos work best with spicier “Spanish-style” foods, including Southwestern dishes. The Priorat fruity wines, based on Garnacha, are the most versatile, of course, and they go well with pizzas, burgers, and the like. I had a 1996 Ribera del Duero with caribou fajitas recently, and it was a revelation. One might even make the case that Spanish cuisine and its derivatives are, in essence, crafted to fit their wines. Some might counter that this is a chicken-and-egg thing, but the kinds of wine one can create are extremely limited by regional factors, whereas when it comes to cuisine, at least nowadays, there is far greater flexibility. Therefore, it seems to me that if you are going to plunge into these exciting Spanish wines, you might want to make an effort to drink them with Spanish “” or at the very least Mediterranean or Southwestern “” cuisines.
If you do, my guess is you’ll be able to escape the doldrums of winter, because let’s face it, part of the charm of Spanish is that it almost never gets too cold. Siesta, anyone?

1997 Torres Gran Sangre de Toro Reserva Penedes

Brimming with fruit, most poignantly raspberries, this garnacha, mourvedre blend verges on “bomb”, but stops short of that.   Perfect with spicy Southwestern cuisine, but light enough for swordfish or an ahi tuna taco.

1996 Valduero Ribera del Duero Reserva

Smoky and fat, but with a friendly fruit layer, somewhat plumy, maybe some stewed cherries, too.  Very sensuous, soft mouth-feel, best with lamb, or elk, or any gamy red meat.

1996 Marques de Arienzo Rioja Reserva Bodegas Domecq

Mass-produced, but from a solid vintage, most tasty, with lots of berry flavor, none too dark or woody.  Serve with a savory beef dish, or spicier chicken, even chorizos.  A bargain at around $16.

1997 Allende Rioja

Lighter and broader, less oak, very wild strawberries, with a pleasant, peppery finish.  Punchy enough for either a spicy paella or a zesty marinara or Bolognese sauce over pasta.

1999 Emilio Moro Ribera del Duero

A find!  Dense and chewy, lots of rich chocolate, black currant, and tobacco, plus loads of oak.  A dense, intense wine, that will do better with age, but with an hour of air can go a long way.  Must serve with beef or something fatty enough to absorb some of those tannins (which will mellow nicely with age).  A producer to watch in coming years.

Many people don’t realize that port is actually a kind of wine “” fortified wine, to be exact. That’s because it’s rarely served with food. In this country, wine is paired with food; more than 70 percent of all wine consumed is drunk with a meal. But port “” when was the last time you saw someone order port with anything other than dessert? And even then, it goes with only a limited number of desserts, such as chocolate and other heavier items.

Relegated to the ” after dinner ” world, port does not always receive the respect it deserves as one of the world’s finest wines. And it’s true that many vintage ports (i.e., from a particular fine year) are extremely expensive, ranging from $40 and up for a bottle to $20 a glass at a good restaurant. It’s also quite sweet, somewhat sticky, and not to everyone’s taste. Some folks, given limited exposure to port in any of its manifestations, wonder why it’s important.

Let’s start with the basics. Port is made in Portugal, and is usually shipped from the town of Oporto, which lies on the Atlantic Ocean at the mouth of the Douro River (the same river is called the Duero in Spain, and runs through the Rioja and the Ribera del Duero wine regions). Port as we know it was first made because English seafarers realized that the fine Portuguese wines they loved would travel across the ocean better if they were spiked with a bit of brandy; now, of course, this fortification process, which also sweetens the wine and generates its high alcohol content, is the essence of port. Vintage port usually improves with age, and can last for more than 100 years; other ports, once bottled, do not improve therein.

Port is crafted by a handful of ” houses ” “” including Dow’s, Warre’s, Graham’s, Fonseca, and Sandeman, among others “” many of which are owned by the British, who for hundreds of years have helped make and market the wine (per capita, they still drink the most port). Production is now controlled by a body known as the IVP, which, in 1974, began requiring all port to be bottled in Oporto (it had previously been shipped in barrels and then bottled at its destination). ” Bottle-aged ” port followed the introduction of taller bottles that were easier to lie down on their sides, which allowed port to be stored and aged in sealed bottles (superior to barrels for this purpose).

Vintage ports generally reach their prime after about 20 years. The English have taken a particular fancy to port, but in this country, the beverage has not developed quite the same following. Generally, all the major houses will declare a particular good year ” vintage ” ; they make this declaration three times per decade. On three occasions in the last century, there were back-to-back years of such quality that some houses declared one year to be vintage, while others declared the next. Even in non-vintage years, many excellent ports are often made.

The other major category of port, aside from bottle-aged, is wood port. These, too, are fortified with brandy, and come in three distinct styles: ruby port, aged in wood for many years, but remaining quite reddish in color; tawny port, usually aged in wood at least 10 years and sometimes as long as 40, making it lighter and browner; and white port, which resembles vintage except that it’s made with white grapes and is usually served chilled as an apéritif or cocktail before dinner. Twenty-year tawny ports are some of my favorite after-dinner drinks; I find them to be lighter and more versatile than vintage ports. They taste of toffee and chocolate, but with complex spices. The best are not cheap, but at $10 to $12 a glass, they are well worth the price.

Perhaps the most important thing to know about port is how to deploy it properly: it should be served either with dessert or just afterward, as it makes a wonderful segue from dinner to subsequent entertainments. And while connoisseurs may gurgle and coo about vintage ports, I think you’ll find that even basic port, like the Warre’s Warrior or your basic LBV (short for ” late-bottled vintage ” and generally less expensive than regular vintage) are interesting, complex wines, with hints of coffee, licorice, and chocolate. I find port conducive to sharing (a few sips are usually all I need), and it seems very civilized not to rush after a fine repast, but to relax, have a glass, and unwind.

While port-style wines are now produced around the world, including in Australia, California, and South Africa, all true port comes from multiple estates (and vineyards) in Portugal. Some single-vineyard ” Quintas ” are also gaining renown and esteem. In these harsh winter months, if you have the time and a few extra coins in your pocket, why not have a delicious, soothing glass after a satisfying meal?

1985 Dow’s Vintage. Yowza! A chocolate-coffee-toffee powerhouse, with restraint, a tightly wound core of rich berry fruit, and a slight hint of anise on the finish. Despite its power and focus, it should be versatile enough to pair with a chocolate cake, a tarte Tatin, or even a pear dish with some crème anglaise.

Fonseca 20 Year Tawny. Toffee and coffee notes, very subtle and bewitching, with all kinds of wood flavors (cedar, oak, pine). I even get a hint of Queen Anne cherry. Accompanies non-fruity desserts, but also worth drinking on its own as dessert.

Two predictions for the world of wine this year: consumers will be more price sensitive (i.e., they’ll spend less and expect more ” bang ” for the buck), and they’re going to appreciate the limited significance of ratings, making the ” scores ” received by wines less meaningful. As a result, other numbers may count more.

You’re probably already aware of some important numbers. First there’s price, which actually involves three numbers: the distributors’ price, the wholesale price the importer/distributor charges the retailer, and the retail price you’re charged (which of course is different in stores than in restaurants). As I’ve mentioned before, different wines have different profit margins, which means retailers and restaurateurs have biases that go beyond their specific tastes. Though you won’t normally know what the profit number is, believe me “” it often affects what gets recommended to you.

The second number, and the most dominant (and, in my opinion, the most overrated), is a wine’s ” score. ” Often this is the number that Wine Spectator or Robert Parker (who is the Wine Advocate), the two most influential raters of wine, have given a particular bottle. This score reflects the tastes (and biases) of those doing the scoring. Enologix, a wine-consulting company in Sonoma, claims it can predict scores simply by measuring the presence or absence of certain compounds in a given wine. It sounds so futuristic: without even tasting a wine, the analysts know how good it will be just by looking at its chemical composition. But regardless of who assigns a score or how the number is arrived at, it’s only useful if your taste happens to coincide with the taste of the scorers. If you think your taste might differ (and I would assert that people’s tastes vary widely), then knowing the official ” score ” won’t really help you in determining quality.

The number of cases produced also matters. This is not required label information in the US, and it’s often a difficult statistic to track down. But how much of a particular wine is made affects its availability, price, and the kind of marketing push it gets (which I believe can affect its ratings). A number that shouldn’t matter so much, but does, is the year. Year 2000 wines, especially Bordeaux, will cost more simply because of the powerful associations with that year. And far too often, people expect good wines to be made only in ” good ” years, when in fact well-made wines from less-than-stellar vintages offer some of the best wine values around. While I love drinking ‘82 Bordeaux and ‘90 Burgundies as much as the next aficionado, I derive special pleasure from a great ‘78 Margaux or a ripping ‘97 red Burgundy from Volnay.

I’ll throw in a bonus number: trends of varietals consumed. Industry insiders care that people are drinking more syrah and pinot noir, and you’ll likely see more of these wines available, at affordable prices, in the coming year because their numbers are now ” up. ” Add in these various figures, and you realize that even if the math sometimes gets a little fuzzy, numbers make the (wine) world go ’round.

Here are a few wines that I would score highly.

1998 Storrs Petite Sirah Santa Cruz California. Fleshy and voluptuous, but not over the top. Quite round, actually, and primed for steak or beef, but with a little chill; could work well with a robust chicken dish. Packs a bunch of black fruit and a judicious oak smack.

2000 Beaulieu Vineyard Zinfandel Napa Valley California. Bold and assertive, ripe and jammy, with lively, classic zin flavors. The year 2000 was phenomenal for Napa zin, and this is one of the first I’ve tasted, boding well for a bevy of new releases this year. Round and plummy, sumptuous with brisket, venison, or a burger.

1998 Vina Sastre Crianza Ribera del Duero Spain. Not the best year, but a beautiful wine nonetheless, showing dark and handsome fruits; mysterious, with Bing cherry explosions and a full oaky finish. New World-style, but classy and elegant all the same. Great with chorizo stew, a funky pesto-potato pizza, or roast chicken.

1994 Bodegas Montecillo Rioja Gran Reserva Spain. Balanced, with medium alcohol (13 percent) and fruit concentrated in the center. Tempranillo, but again, a New World wine (unusual for Rioja) showing why Spain is probably the most ” up-and-coming ” wine country in Europe these days.

Peter Rumball Sparkling Shiraz Australia. Deep red color, refreshing and flavorful. A wine I come back to often for its finesse, its pizzazz, and its versatility. Drinks well by itself, but can accompany almost anything. I like it with pizza as much as with Thai food. Like a sophisticated grape soda!

2000 Landmark ” Overlook ” Chardonnay Sonoma/Monterey. Chardonnay still rocks my world, especially when it has all this pineapple and citrus, with a deft use of oak to give it backbone. Perfect with Chilean sea bass, Thai-grilled red snapper, or even chicken.

2000 Honig Sauvignon Blanc Napa Valley California. I like the regular better than the reserve, though both are good in this vintage. It tastes of pineapple and lemon, zesty, with a touch of that grassy effervescence I love. Great with Dover sole or raw shellfish.

It’s been a business doing pleasure with you ” my grandfather used to say, and while he wasn’t talking about wine, his words do serve to remind us that wine “” one of life’s nicer pleasures “” is also a business. So when we talk about the year in wine, we’re really exploring the actual business of wine “” a world with which most consumers are generally unfamiliar.

But understanding the wine business can make you a better consumer. When it comes to wine, supply (or lack thereof) creates demand. Wineries have to sell what they’ve made, and their success depends mainly on the extent to which they influence critics, writers, sommeliers, and retailers. So what you see on the shelves depends in part on what wine writers, critics, and salesman are saying; we, in turn, tend to talk about what’s available, and we’re influenced by what wineries tell “” and sell “” us.

In my next column, I’ll gaze into my crystal goblet and make some predictions for the year ahead, but today we’re talking about the year that was. And 2001 was at best a mixed year in the wine trade. Prices dropped after many years of steady increases, especially in ultra-premium wine ($10-plus per bottle). Recent events, of course, haven’t helped, but the trend started before September 11: the economic downturn has led to less spending at restaurants, and fewer expensive bottles of wine purchased. Wineries have felt the ripple effects of reduced expense accounts and less lavish spending.

But people are still buying, though they’re spending less. Fruity wines, with some complexity but greater versatility than cabernet sauvignon and merlot, are the most compelling; these include syrahs, pinot noirs, and zinfandels, as well as grenache-based blends, New World-style tempranillos from Spain’s up-and-coming Ribera del Duero region, hot malbec from Argentina, and all manner of Italian varietals, including lovely sangioveses and barberas. Many champagnes taste fruitier and less bone-dry these days. And 2001 saw a surge of excellent imported wines under $20 from France (Rhône, Alsace, Loire Valley, the Pays D’Oc), Italy, Spain, South America, Australia, and New Zealand.

Today, the best deals often arise when a specific region has excellent vintages back-to-back. Several cases in point: 1997-’98 Italian reds, 1998-’99 Oregon pinot noirs, 1999-2000 South Americans, and 1998-’99 Rhônes (especially Southern Rhônes). Back-to-back winners present an opportunity to purchase two different vintages at once, and to gauge the effects of an extra year of aging.

People have begun to realize that most great wines are now made for drinking almost immediately upon release. This is good business: wines that aren’t great on release are harder to sell, and unsold wine means fewer dollars for wineries. I look for wines that are ready to drink; the wineries have helped create this demand by making wine more approachable early on and touting the virtues of their great young wines.

So how does all this translate into better wine-buying (and, in this holiday season, gift-giving)? You’ll see value in all the wines mentioned above. You’ll also see more sales, as retailers try to encourage marginal buyers. And you’ll see wine lists with reduced prices.

Some wine writers advise against giving wine as gifts, as so many wine lovers have distinct tastes, and your offering may get lost in the shuffle. I disagree. The key is to give people wines they might not otherwise know about. If you are worried about a wine getting lost, give it as part of a larger gift, perhaps with glasses or a corkscrew, and make it clear that the bottle is meant to be drunk right now with you. In essence you’re giving two gifts: the wine itself, and the pleasure of being turned on to it by you, the giver, then and there.

Here are some gifts I’ll be giving this year; as always, these are as much categorical recommendations as they are specific. If the staff at your store suggest a different champagne or a 1999 Oregon pinot, they probably know what they’re talking about. Like me, they want you to be happy.

1999 Hamacher Pinot Noir Willamette Valley Oregon. Bright and fruity, bold strawberry flavors, lots of spunk. This versatile, wily wine goes perfectly with pulled pork, fried catfish, or other rich, spicy foods. A can’t-miss ticket, composed of fruit from numerous vineyards.

1999 Rockland Petite Sirah Napa Valley California. Holy Moses! Over-the-top, rambunctious, and intoxicatingly heady, well beyond its alcohol content. Good with game, venison, and all manner of rich, fatty, holiday cuisine.

Laurent Perrier Brut LP Champagne (in a box with two flutes). This blend contains roughly equal amounts of chardonnay and pinot noir, with 15 percent pinot meunier for good measure. Also contains some older vintages; it comes across as clean, with apples and citrus notes (I got a bit of lemon). All in all, a lovely box for under $30. Also try the rosé.

1999 D’Arenberg The Ironstone Pressings McLaren Vale. Grenache-shiraz-mourvèdre blend, and pricey, but what a power-packed fruit wallop this bad boy delivers! Plum and pomegranate up front, fresh oak on the back, a tight package, but lingering; perfect for prime rib, lamb shank, or beef stew. Best to open an hour or so before serving, and decant if possible.

Thanksgiving has always been a big holiday, but this year, we feel a special need to take comfort in giving thanks with our families and friends. With the holiday including a meal “” and a celebratory one at that “” wine must, of course, play a big part.

When someone asks, ” What should we drink with our meal? ” , the real question is, ” How do I pair wine and food? ” But once you know the basics, finding wines to serve should be as easy as apple (or pumpkin) pie. First, recognize that pairing, like cooking, is as much art as science. Context is everything. And Thanksgiving provides plenty of context; I suggest using its history to your advantage.

Ultimately, the origin of the wine you select is less important than how it tastes and how the taste goes with the other tastes on tap. So the inquiry starts with a series of questions: is turkey your main course? Assuming it is, your next question is, ” Which white and which red? ” You have to serve both; too many people have strong preferences for one or the other, and this is a holiday of inclusion. You want to focus on all the other flavors on the table “” which may mean a phone call to your host to find out what else will be served. Stuffing? Gravy? Cranberry sauce? Yams or mashed potatoes? What’s the vegetable? Will there be an oyster gravy, as there is in the South, or, as in my family, will there be fresh salmon with a lemon-dill sauce? Once you have a list of what’s being served, your task gets easier. You can rely on your retailer: hand him or her your list, offer your price range, and you’re home free. But like the pilgrims, you may want to go it alone. Here are some guiding principles:

Simple, lighter, fruity wines work best. Thanksgiving is not a serious meal. It’s simple fare, and you want a simple wine. Because it’s a celebration of the harvest, the dinner features plenty of fruits and vegetables; these usually pair best with fruity wines, like Beaujolais (even Nouveau) or pinot gris. No chardonnays or cabernet sauvignons; these are too heavy.

Don’t spend a lot. People have lots going on, and if they drink, they will drink quite a bit. This is about being value-conscious (like the pilgrims). Interesting but inexpensive wines are the order of the day.

Focus. What is the most important dish on the table (besides the turkey)? Maybe it’s the gravy or grandma’s stuffing. Choose wines that accompany those dishes. My favorite reds are fruity shirazes from Australia, pinot noirs from New Zealand or Burgundy, and grenache from the Southern Rhône (and garnachas from Spain). For whites, I like Alsatian gewürztraminers, German rieslings, sauvignon blancs, and pinot gris or blancs. While American wines are fine, remember: Thanksgiving is about embracing the foreign “” in a spirit of peace and gratitude.

Sparkling wine makes for a good apéritif. My Thanksgiving meals have never started on time, and I always want a glass or two of something before the big meal. Sparkling wines (or real Champagne, if you can afford it) whet the appetite, pair well with most flavors, and get things off to a rousing start.

I would recommend buying an extra bottle of whatever you intend to serve and trying it before the Thursday. Form your own impressions, without pressure. Write ‘em down. When people compliment you on your choice of wine, you can talk about why you selected it, discuss which dishes it pairs with, and even offer a couple of tasting notes. Ask your guests what they think. Get the conversation rolling.

Here are my thoughts on a few wines fit for a Thanksgiving feast, along with the foods they complement.

2001 Ata Rangi Sauvignon Blanc Martinborough New Zealand. This has a lovely grapefruit-y zing and mingles well with non-Thanksgiving fare like Chilean sea bass, king salmon, or cioppino, but can hold its own against any green vegetables, a spicy squash dish, and of course your roast turkey.

1999 Iron Horse Cuvée R Alexander Valley. A blend of 80 percent sauvignon blanc and 20 percent viognier; the latter serves as an accent and makes for a delightful floral bouquet, which softens the grapefruit/citrus acidity of the sauvignon blanc. A fine accompaniment to oyster flavors, salmon, or other seafood.

2000 Borsao Campo de Borja Spain. This blends 75 percent garnacha with 25 percent tempranillo, the predominant grape of the Rioja region. The garnacha makes this a fruit-laden berry patch, unkempt and wild, with a touch of plum and wonderful dark notes such as chocolate or toffee. Superb with squash, salty gravies, or a ham hock.

2000 Louis Bernard Côtes-du-Rhone Villages. Big fruit, bursting with licorice-infused blackberry and overall lip-smackin’ flavor, for a very good price (under $10). Good with turkey and cranberry sauce, yams, ham, you name it.

1999 Château Vannières Bandol. A good Bandol is worth all the effort required to find it. Earthy and rich, this is mostly mourvèdre, with the other usual Southern Rhône suspects blended in. The tumultuous dark fruit echoes the deep: it’ll be scrumptious with dark turkey meat and sweet potatoes.

2000 Ata Rangi Pinot Noir Martinborough New Zealand. A bit of a splurge, this smooth strawberries-and-cream explosion is tart and tangy, bursting with pizzazz. Tuna is best, but turkey works, so long as you have a dab of fat or two. Big yum!

SINCE 1985, ON the third Thursday of November, a week before Thanksgiving, Beaujolais Nouveau has been released all over the world. This quaint little ritual has gone a long way toward making Beaujolais famous, but it does not reflect the true quality of wines produced in the 49,000 vineyards of Burgundy’s southern reaches, an area known as Beaujolais (after the town of Beaujeu).

Nouveau, of course, is really a novelty: unlike most wine, red or white, which takes at least a year to be ready for purchase, Nouveau is released mere months after it is made. It has been described as closer to white wine than red, as it is best served chilled and has almost no tannins: it’s all about the raw fruit. But Ã’BeaujolaisÓ writ large is a lot bigger than just its Nouveau. Some 70 million bottles of Nouveau are made each year (many of them consumed close to release, as it’s not a wine meant to age), and another 70 million of all other Beaujolais combined. These other Beaujolais wines are well worth taking seriously, especially in the good years.

There is evidence of vineyards in Beaujolais dating back to the Roman conquest of the region in the first and second centuries AD. Its prominence as a wine region is pegged entirely to the grape known as gamay, which was outlawed in Burgundy proper, just to the north, in 1395 (Burgundy now focuses almost exclusively on pinot noir and chardonnay). In addition to Nouveau, which is a primeur wine (meaning it is made and released before a specific date the following spring), there are Beaujolais, Beaujolais-Villages, and the wines made from the region’s several crus “” smaller, geographically defined regions that produce better wines. These regions range from Saint-Amour in the north to Julinas, Chenas, Moulin-ˆ-Vent, Fleurie, Chiroubles, Morgon, RŽgniŽ, Câ„¢te de Brouilly, and finally Brouilly in the south. Regular old Beaujolais must have a minimum alcohol content of nine percent; Beaujolais-Villages must have a minimum of 10 percent alcohol and must be made with grapes from two of the 39 approved communes in Haut Beaujolais. In good years, these can both be solid wines, and although neither is built to last, they can survive for a good five years in the bottle.

The 10 crus are where the true action is: I was introduced to these wines when I was living in Paris in the late ’80s, and they were described to me as the preferred table wines of the bourgeoisie. These wines can last for 10 to 20 years, but they are definitely ready to drink upon release. Last year, by all accounts, was a very good one, and the wines I have been trying recently confirm these positive appraisals. They’re bright and bouncy, quite memorable and refreshing.

The dominant taste in all good Beaujolais is cherry. Sometimes black cherry, other times wild cherry, but if you don’t like cherries, then I would stay away from Beaujolais “” or at least the Villages and cru wines. These wines feature, for the most part, firm acidity, meaning they can stand up to spicy foods. They would not be my first choice with red meats, but they’re perfect for faster foods, like pizzas, chicken sandwiches, Asian cuisine, and seafood stews. Prices tend to be less than $20, except for the very best bottles. They like air, and they can take some chill. In general, the less you pay for Beaujolais, the colder you should serve it, because Beaujolais “” especially the less expensive bottles “” can be almost too flavorful; colder temperatures blunt some of the flavor. If it’s not one of the finer cru wines, you want to treat it more like Ã’wine beverageÓ “” it is literally wine (that is, it’s made from fermented grapes), but you can chill it, add ice, put it in sangria, drink it from a jelly jar, etc.

It’s clear why savvy Parisians make the better Beaujolais their wines of choice: they are not expensive or pretentious, but they accompany food well. They have fruit and structure, but they are not collector’s items. Cru wines from Beaujolais are still rustic, and make you appear as though you’re not afraid to go off the beaten track. They do not trick you, nor are they overly complex: they just vibrate and refresh.

If you like good Beaujolais, now is a fine time to try the latest releases. But they’ll be on the shelves for a year, so don’t despair if you don’t get to them right away. And while you’re at it, don’t judge the region by its most prominent product. The 2001 Nouveau may be just around the corner, but the recently released 2000s are here to stay.

2000 Câ„¢te de Brouilly Ch”°teau de Thivin. Importer Kermit Lynch knows his vino. This is rosy on the nose, with cherry and tea notes “” smoky, chunky in the middle, and then a smooth, round finish. It’ll give you a jolt when you drink it; I like it with grilled salmon, a spicy chicken dish, or a nice pad Thai.

2000 Moulin-ˆ-Vent Hubert Lapierre. Named for the mill near where the grapes grow, this is a more restrained wine “” round, with a nice, cheery core of light cherry. Maybe a hint of cinnamon in there. It’ll complement your basic Chinese dishes, like kung pao chicken, spare ribs, or spring rolls.

2000 Morgon Vielles Vignes Jean-Paul Thevenet. Raspberries, teakwood, and a touch of hibiscus tea. Maybe some chocolate in there, if you let it linger long enough. Sort of funky on the finish. Should be good with braised short ribs or oxtail ravioli “” heartier meat dishes. Definitely a plus for something stewy, but it would also wash down a ham sandwich (or a croque monsieur) with aplomb.

In the wake of recent events, wine might seem to be, at best, an afterthought. It won’t make us safer, won’t rebuild any towers, won’t bring back our slain citizens.

But remember that we drink wine mainly at meals. And meals are when we, as a society, come together to converse. Think about how many conversations take place over food and wine. My personal reaction to the cataclysmic events of September 11 was to reach for two big bottles of red wine to share with good friends as we tried to make sense of everything over dinner. The wine gave us something to talk about other than fear and folly, and it made talking easier. Wine loosens the tongue “” and good wine, all the more so.

Now, even as we realize how many bigger things there are to talk about, the wines we favor are changing with the weather. During the hotter months, my tendency, and that of many readers, is to drink lighter wines “” refreshing whites, fruitier reds, things that work well chilled, or with seafood, which we eat a lot of, especially if we spend our summers close to the ocean. These wines work during the summer because when it’s hot, drinking becomes as much about refreshment as about taste.

As we move into fall, though, refreshment becomes less of a concern. The nights, when we do most of our wine drinking, become chilly. Autumn begets heavier, earthier wines. We still drink whites and reds, but the flavor profile changes subtly, as flavor itself becomes more important.

As you know by now, I think of wine mainly as an accompaniment to food. And during the fall, we have different food on our plates. I eat less fish, and more game and chicken. More root vegetables, like squashes and turnips. More pastas, and heavier foods. I care less about how I will look in my bathing suit, and more about how the pinot noir is going to complement the rabbit or the cream sauce. So, as we delight in the fall “” and nowhere is autumn more celebrated than here in New England, where the foliage is such an attraction “” we can begin to reconnect with a lot of wines that we may have veered away from during the hot and humid months.

What must be remembered is that wine is not necessarily a distraction (though it can become one). Wine is part of the fabric that holds our society together. Through wine, over wine, we communicate.

Here are a number of wines that, to my taste, are ideal for fall drinking. They’re all available in the Boston area, but if you can’t find these particular bottles, you should be able to locate comparable wines at your favorite shop, where the staff will be happy to assist your transition into autumn.

1998 ” 420 Nuits ” Alain Paret Saint Joseph. Earthy and lush, though rather delicate for a syrah-based blend. Tends toward the lighter red fruits, with notes of strawberry and plum, although it’s not so much a burst of fruit as a pressed-fruit taste. A fine accompaniment to pork loin, funky cheeses, or even rabbit stew. A solid wine from a solid vintage “” worth finding.

1997 Martilde La Strega, la Gazza e il Pioppo Barbera. Vivacious and alive, buzzing with cheery cherry activity. Its bright fruit pops in your mouth. One of the better barberas I’ve ever tried, this will go well with pizza, tomato-based pasta sauces, or even spicy Asian noodles (like pad Thai or Shanghai noodles).

1999 Jaffurs Grenache Stolpman Family Vineyard Santa Barbara. Bright, round, bold, and tightly wound. Craig Jaffurs is one of the later Rhone Rangers, but he has rescued grenache from oblivion; it’s a serious wine made here in the US. This offering, from a now-renowned vineyard near Santa Barbara, is full-bodied enough to take on rare red meats or any gamy dishes. Jaffurs has worked the fruit for all it’s worth, with raspberries and red currants, and the brew should improve some as it stews in the bottle over the coming years. Still, if you must drink it now, it’ll reward your impatience with its forward fruit burst.

1998 Laetitia Estate Pinot Noir Arroyo Grande. Earthy and warm, with a thick layer of fruit, including strawberries and raspberries. This wine will appreciate an hour of air before drinking. It goes great with grilled tuna (or sushi), and basic Chinese foods such as spare ribs and egg rolls (or even kung pao chicken and moo shu pork). It’s superbly balanced and fragrant; I even got hints of cinnamon on the finish. On the expensive side, but worth the dough.

2000 Domaine des Aubuisières Bernard Fouquet Vouvray. Selected and imported by savvy Peter Weygandt, this 2000 makes me excited to see what other engaging wines were produced in France during this spectacular vintage. Like many Loire Valley chenin blancs, this wine is off-dry, with a pleasant sweetness reminiscent of hard apple cider. Refreshing with shellfish (especially raw), but also with paella, spicy chicken dishes, or ham. This is as elegant and carefree as an under-$20 bottle of wine can be.

2000 Pinot Gris Willakenzie Estate Oregon. With super-high alcohol content (14.6 percent) for a pinot gris, this is one of my favorite white wines “” and one of the best Oregon pinot gris, period. Would be good any time of year, but it’s great to sit on the porch, eating pretty much anything hot off the grill (hopefully something with a citrusy kick), watching the colors of the foliage deepen, while sipping this generous and approachable wine.

In addition to its links with secular pleasure, wine has been an integral part of the dominant Western religions “” Judaism and Christianity “” for thousands of years. Jews commence their Sabbath by lighting candles, drinking wine, and breaking bread. Many Christians drink wine as part of the Eucharist, and believe that it symbolizes (or is transformed into) the blood of Christ. A wine glass is destroyed during a Jewish marriage ceremony. On almost every big occasion, we lift our glasses, usually filled with one kind of wine or another, to say a few words about that occasion.

Many believe that through wine (or other intoxicating substances, such as ” magic mushrooms ” ), one is better able to commune with the divine for a heightened religious experience. But in our society, wine has also become part of less formal celebrations. And this raises the question: how do you go about choosing wine to serve at wedding receptions or other ritual gatherings?

First off, you don’t want to run out of wine, and extra bottles will eventually be consumed, so make sure you have enough. It’s safe to estimate six glasses of wine to a bottle, and at any large function where most of the people are of legal drinking age “” and not alcoholics “” a good bet is that each drinker will average two glasses of wine (a note of caution for all those who invite me to your special events: I alone can increase the average to 2.2 glasses of wine per person).

Secondly, you do not need to break the bank to serve decent wine. The staff at your local wine shop can help you select something special for not much more than $20 per bottle (which works out to $200 per case), if you can afford to spend that much. And if you can’t afford to spend that much, take heart: you can serve great wine for around $10 a bottle, which, with a discount, should get you fairly close to $100 per case. You need to have both a red and a white, and most people also like to serve some form of sparkling wine, either for dessert or for the toasts. (For sparkling wines, you get closer to eight glasses per bottle, since the glasses are usually smaller, and you don’t fill them as high.)

The key is to keep wine simple and basic. People don’t expect the wine to blow them away, and your goal is to make as many people happy as possible. The more complex a wine, the greater the chance that it will turn some people off. Of course, if the wine is bad, or even just mediocre, no one will be too interested in drinking much of it either. So what you want is something straightforward and easily quaffable, and you want it to go well with the food you’ll be serving “” which often means, alas, different wines to go with dinner and the milling-around/hors d’oeuvres portion of the event, if the flavors of the food before dinner are markedly different from those of the meal.

On the white side, chardonnay makes an appropriate basic wine; for your red, cabernet sauvignon or merlot are good bets (although syrah/shiraz and zinfandel, if not too over-the-top, can also be crowd pleasers). Remember, it’s an event, not an intimate dinner; people aren’t likely to remember what wine they drank (and if they drink enough, they might not remember anything at all).

Of course, if you drink just the right amount of wine, chances are that any experience will be pretty pleasurable “” and the better the wine, the more pleasurable the experience ought to be. But beware: the more inebriated one is, the less one can taste, as alcohol dulls the senses. In the Jewish tradition, at Purim, one is meant to drink so much wine that one cannot tell a villain from a hero. In this day and age, such intoxication is disfavored. But the principle “” that drinking wine is a vital part of a party “” is not, and it’s the host’s job to make sure that the wine pulls its weight.

The word ” rite ” is derived from the ancient words for flow, which seems appropriate: when it comes to serving wine, the key to throwing a good ritual celebration is to let it flow, let it flow, let it flow.

Here are a handful of affordable wines that would enhance any ritual:

1998 Purple Mountain Chardonnay Sonoma. Made for one of the finest wine importers in the business, Michael Skurnik. I recommended it to friends for a wedding last year and they slurped it up (and the groom wound up giving me a job “” so I guess he liked it). It’s a wine made by a reliable producer, and it’s always astonished me how much quality you get for the price. Tropical flavors and partial malo make this a clean, bright, refreshing wine.

2000 Coppola Gold Label Chardonnay. Plain vanilla, but no less lovely. Plump ripe fruit, tropical “” killer-diller when it’s dressed to the hilt, with some salmon or chicken in a beurre blanc or cream sauce.

1999 Coppola Syrah Green Label Diamond Series. The people at Coppola have been making some of my favorite under-$20 wines these days. This one has wild blueberry and a concentrated layer of sweetness. It’s very direct. It also breaks my rule of sticking with a cabernet or merlot, because it’s not only deep, it’s also approachable “” full of warmth and, dare I say, wit and charm. This would work best with red meat.

1999 Rosemount Cabernet Sauvignon Australia. Pointed yet smooth, sort of the gold standard of affordable cabernets. Well crafted, with black fruit, some pepper, proper oak, and a refreshing tartness on the finish. Kind of a can’t-miss wine, especially in the finer years.

1998 Hess Select Cabernet Sauvignon California. Soft and supple, but clean and well made. Brambly and amiable, not deep, but no moving parts. Just straight-ahead, value-driven cab.

Pinot noir is the premier varietal grown in Oregon, but it’s had a long and bumpy ride, and in many circles it is still a hard sell. I understand this, and I am here to help. That is, I am here to tell you that you must taste the recent releases of these wines to believe them. Because 1998 and 1999 were exceptional years for Oregon pinot noirs, and the 2000s in the barrel are tasting mighty good.

Oregon hasn’t yet had 30 years of making fine wines. Its first real vineyards of note were planted in 1972 and 1973, when Dick Erath of Erath Vineyards and David Lett of Eyrie left California and planted grapes near the town of Dundee. They decided, as young, impetuous, and educated winemakers, that Oregon could make great Burgundian wines (pinot noir and chardonnay). And they were right. Oregon now has 175 wineries “” two and a half times as many as it did in 1990.

But not everyone swoons over Oregon, and with good reason. First, the weather usually does not conduce to great winemaking: it’s not warm and sunny enough during flowering, and it tends to rain at harvest time. Moreover, the soil tends to be too rich in Oregon’s main wine region, the Willamette Valley, which runs from Eugene to Portland (the other regions are the Umpqua and Rogue Valleys). Wine grapes like thinner soils, so the vine can go deeper and experience more stress. So Oregon has had many mediocre vintages recently.

Even in decent years, you need ” game ” to make great wines. While ” game ” relies on talent, it also requires ample capital, which many Oregon wineries lack (unlike their Napa Valley competitors). So with less money than they need, and not such great weather “” and with Oregon already kind of a rogue state, off the beaten track “” when it comes time to sell the wines beyond the West Coast, it isn’t easy.

Another problem lies in the nature of pinot noir itself. A delicate and difficult grape, it can make the greatest wines, but it is very easy to make mistakes. Most pinot noirs have at least three lives after release. First, a young, fruity phase, when the wine is brash, tart, seductive, yet gangly “” like a Lolita, but legal to enjoy. In its second phase, the wine goes dumb. You smell the barnyard, and the fruit gets buried under the tea, resulting in fairly subdued and unapproachable wines. This awkward phase can set in anywhere from three to six years from its vintage year, and can last for four to eight years. Then, either the wine dies a not-so-graceful death, or it opens up and becomes a mature and elegant lady, seductive, with soft texture and ample complexity, plus some glints of the fruit of its youth. If you catch a wine in its dumb phase, it won’t do much for you.

The economics of wine have pretty much forced wineries to produce wines that taste great right out of the gate. The winery has to move the product, and you cannot sell wines that do not appeal to most consumers. In their young and fruity phase, pinot noirs can be unreliable whippersnappers; but when well-made and built for early consumption, they will rock your world. Mark these words: young, classy pinot noirs are the most versatile red wines made. Period.

Back to Oregon. The handful of California refugees who came north to try their hand at making fine wines succeeded for the most part. Oregon now has a bona fide wine industry, and when the renowned Drouhin family of Burgundy bought land in Oregon and began to produce wonderful pinot noirs, it was ” game on ” time. In 1994, good weather came together with winemaking expertise, and a lot of world-class wine was produced. But many of these have not aged well, or they have yet to come out of their ” dumb ” phase (and may never do so). Thin production marked 1995 and 1997; long-lasting but hard-to-approach-early wines arrived in 1996.

But in 1998, though the crop was small, the pinot noirs for the most part have been stupendous. You get strawberry and bright cherry, a little cola, and lots of funk. Mossy banks, barnyard odors, the fungus, the snap, crackle, all sorts of exciting descriptors: the wines come alive in your mouth. And the 1999s were darned good, maybe even better “” at least there’s more of them. It’s hard to say, because both vintages are so good, with so many of the wines brimming with flavor.

The 2000s should be special, too. So right now, you have the right conditions to find excellent values: two (maybe three) great years in a row, and no one raising prices. Industry insiders are uncertain about these wines, but many know that they are the real deal. A lot of the 1998s have already sold to folks who don’t care that Wine Spectator rarely gives any Oregon pinot noir more than 90 points. But you’ll find some, and loads of those great 1999s. Some wineries I like are Foris (from the south), Bridgeview, Domaine Drouhin, Willamette Valley Vineyards, Ken Wright, Panther Creek, Cristom, Erath, Rex Hill, Golden Valley, Adelsheim, Sokol Blosser, and King Estate. I could go on.

If you like velvet and cherries and strawberries, you’ll be blown away by the array of flavors in young Oregon pinots. If you’re eating tuna, sushi, a juicy steak, or barbecued chicken “” heck, even pork “” you’ll agree that a fruity Oregon pinot noir is the perfect match. You want to give these wines a chance.

What’s in a name? That which we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet …

William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

If you walk into a liquor store and buy yourself a bottle of wine labeled california, how sweet, so to speak, can you expect it to be? What does ” California ” mean as a designation? Before we get into the answers and their actual wine-drinking ramifications, let’s put some facts on the table: 90 percent of all wine made in this country comes from California, where producers crushed 2.6 million tons of grapes in 1999 (a rather light year). Many California wines rival the world’s best.

Labels are the key to decoding Golden State wines. When a label says only ” California, ” it means that the wine was made (or finished) in that state, and 100 percent of its grapes “” as required by California law “” were grown there. And under federal law, for a blended wine to carry the designation of one of the 145 American Viticultural Areas (AVAs) approved by the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms, 85 percent of the grapes that went into the wine must have been grown within that area.

When it comes to ” single-vineyard ” designations, the standards are even stricter: 95 percent of the wine’s grapes must have grown in the named vineyard. With premium ($10 to $14) and ultra-premium (above $14) wines, the trend has been toward more of this single-vineyard labeling and marketing. These wines are also called ” estate-bottled, ” meaning the winemaker owns most of the fruit in the wine, and didn’t have to purchase it. Winemakers have found that they can sell such bottlings for a lot more money, and consumers love knowing just which vines produced the grapes that made their wine.

In the $10 range, however, it’s lately been possible to find a number of truly excellent bottles with the California ” appellation of origin ” label, and no AVA or other designation. Sometimes wineries choose to take single-vineyard wines and label them this way. Miner’s viognier offers an example: most of its fruit comes from the Simpson Vineyard, but the wine is simply labeled ” California ” “” perhaps because the vintner does not want to identify the wine’s originating region, Madera, which is not particularly known for producing great wines.

But another reason ” California ” wines can be so good is the return to the time-honored art of blending. Although I can devour those high-end, single-vineyard wines with the best of them, I am also a huge fan of blends, as they tend to highlight the winemaker’s skill. I have tasted more than a dozen excellent California wines over the past few weeks, all of them tremendous values. I don’t need to know which field my grapes were grown in, or the exact composition of the wines. I have come to trust that good wineries tend to make good wine, or they won’t put it on the shelves “” their brand name is too precious over the long haul.

I do remember a time when the ” California ” designation often indicated lower quality: the fruit grew in the hot, dry valley, rather than on the coastal side of the hills, and the wines were made from cheap, mass-produced grapes. This kind of fruit was low in acid, and you could taste that. At this stage, though, seeing ” California ” alone on a label is, if not an enticement, then at least not a disincentive to trying a wine. Some mediocre (or even jug-caliber) wines may carry that label, but if you know the winery, then the bottle will probably be pretty good. Indeed, since winemakers rarely use all the fruit from any one vineyard, the excess from these lots can be blended to make some darn good wine, even in less-than-stellar years.

One indication of the ” California ” label’s swing back to respectability is the highly political opposition by the Wine Institute, the public-policy advocacy association of California wineries, to the proposed ” California Coast ” AVA. Since such an AVA would be vast, stretching from Mexico to Mendocino, it would have little meaning, and could unduly benefit those major wineries that have access to lots of the grapes grown near the Pacific, at the expense of all the non-coastal areas of California. The Wine Institute has never before opposed a proposed AVA; it justifies its position in part by noting that the ” Coast ” AVA could dilute the meaning of the ” California ” appellation of origin.

At the end of the day (and drinking wine while watching a California sunset is one of life’s grander pleasures), ” California ” has largely come to mean ” quality. ” Some of my favorite California winemakers include Hess, Pepperwood Grove, Beaulieu Vineyard, Beringer, Bogle, Fetzer, and Baron Herzog. With help from your local wine store, you can find your own favorites when looking for those less expensive, high-quality wines.

California, here I come.

Chardonnay is the most sought-after and expensive dry white wine in the world. Period. In its Burgundian incarnations, it reaches sublime heights: Le Montrachet is the greatest dry white wine I’ve tasted, along with its noble cousins, Puligny-Montrachet, Bâtard-Montrachet, and Chassagne-Montrachet. Chardonnay is also the grape used to make the more buttery Meursaults and those flinty, un-oaked Chablis.

Most of us, of course, can’t afford white Burgundies. But just about every wine region in the world “” including California, Oregon, Washington, Long Island, Massachusetts, upstate New York, British Columbia, Lake Erie, southern France, Italy, Austria, Spain, South Africa, Australia, New Zealand, Argentina, and Chile “” now makes some good chardonnay. The varietal leads US wine consumption by a huge margin. The bottom line: it’s the world’s dominant white grape.

Before 1930, however, very little chardonnay was planted in the Western Hemisphere. It’s difficult and costly to cultivate: unless the weather and growing conditions are perfect, the grapes are susceptible to early frost and late bunch rot. The moment of truth comes at harvest. Unless chardonnay is perfectly ripe “” or almost overripe “” it lacks the distinctive flavors that can make it such a fine wine. The Burgundians are masters of picking the grapes at perfect ripeness.

In 1962, there were about 150 acres of chardonnay planted in California. By 1982, that number had increased to 22,076. But that was just the beginning: by 1999, total acreage had reached 102,000 acres. That’s a whole lot of grapes, especially when you consider there are only 61,000 acres of cabernet sauvignon in California.

How did this come about? Until about 1971, nobody in the US really understood the chardonnay grape or how to handle it; people confused it with pinot blanc or a mutation of pinot noir, calling it ” pinot chardonnay. ” (Chardonnay is actually a French descendant of a cross between pinot noir and the obscure gouais blanc grape.) But in the 1970s, the American wine industry, mainly in California, started to see the genius behind Robert Mondavi’s varietal labeling “” that is, calling the wine ” chardonnay ” or ” cabernet sauvignon ” or ” merlot ” rather than ” hearty Burgundy ” or ” Chablis ” or whatever fanciful name the marketers came up with.

At about the same time, in 1976, California chardonnays began blowing away white Burgundies in Stephen Spurrier’s famous blind tastings in Paris. California’s winemakers had discovered that chardonnay was its own phenomenon, not just a white variant of pinot noir. The ” pinot ” was dropped from the name, wineries planted more, and they started targeting women drinkers.

Until the early 1970s, wine was thought of as a dinner accompaniment; it was not, as it is now, versatile enough to be a cocktail in this country. But with the health craze of the ’70s in full, er, swing, wine became seen as a healthy choice at a bar “” better for you than hard alcohol, but with just as much ” kick. ” Chardonnay was sophisticated (you had to know the name of the grape), relatively cheap (thanks to mass production in California), and fairly easy to say (and swallow). Voilà “” it became the pre-dinner drink of choice.

Sadly, this popularity resulted in a glut of mediocre chardonnays, and plenty that were downright poor. When the winemakers figured out that Americans like the taste of oak, many of them took the easy and less expensive way of attaining that taste: rather than aging the wine in oak barrels (especially the expensive French oak), they started throwing wood chips into the fermentation tanks. Today, only 20 percent of the grapes crushed in California are chardonnay, and 80 percent of the resulting wine is bland at best “” and undrinkable at worst.

Still, chardonnay remains a wonderful beverage, especially when it’s well chilled. And for between $10 and $20, you can get a bottle that will blow you away. So forget about its image, because chardonnay is not just for cocktail hour anymore. It’s the main grape in most sparkling wines, versatile enough to go with a range of foods, and when it works, its myriad flavors “” ranging from tropical fruit to pears and apples to nuts and honey, with hints of vanilla and even Queen Anne cherries “” are sublime.

A brief note on the wine notes for this column: not all these wines are available, or not at the quoted price. The point of these notes is not to provide a shopping list, but to give an idea of what you might find if you go looking for the type of wine I’ve discussed.

1999 Saint-Véran ” Les Deux Moulins ” Louis Latour ($9.99). A Goldilocks chardonnay, not too tart yet not too sweet, with Granny Smith apples and a plush finish. Lively, proper depth “” a wonderful wine, year in and year out. Worth looking for.

1998 Geoff Weaver Lenswood Chardonnay South Australia ($10.99). Crisp and green, not fully ripe, but lean and mean. A fine accompaniment to light pastas, Oriental chicken salads, egg or spring rolls, or even a well-sauced Dover sole.

2000 Tenimenti Angelini ” Renaio ” Chardonnay Montepulciano ($11.99). Smoky, deep, succulent. Like many Italian chards, it’s lighter in style, but has plenty of wood, earth, and the usual fruit suspects. Great with smoky meats or tomato-based sauces with plenty of garlic.

2000 Chardonnay Edna Valley Vineyard Paragon San Luis Obispo ($12.99). Quite crisp and mineral-y. Not overly oaked, but most engaging on the palate. A racy wine, fine with fish (shell or otherwise) or tomato sauces. A true value.

1998 Chardonnay Long Vineyard Estate Napa Valley ($55). Steep, super-elegant, with pear, honey, and vanilla. A prime exemplar, competitive with great white Burgundies. More like a Puligny-Montrachet than a Meursault (and about as expensive).

As he lay dying, the British economist Lord John Maynard Keynes uttered these words: ” I wish I’d drunk more Champagne. ”

The irony is that Keynes, like many well-to-do Brits, drank Champagne nearly every day of his life, at practically any time of the day. The rest of us, on the other hand, do not all have the wherewithal to imbibe the precious liquid in such quantity. Happily, though, there are plenty of other sparkling wines to help us avoid regrets like Keynes’s. After all, the difference between Champagne and sparkling wine is simply that the former is produced in the French region of the same name. So be it resolved: henceforth, to help keep you from dying unsatisfied, I shall write an article each year about sparkling wines.

Sparkling wines come in all tastes, but my favorites tend to be crisp “” even sharp “” rather than sweet. I like the way sharp flavors cut through whatever might be in your mouth, with a smack of acidity and a pucker of sugars. Sparkling wines make your mouth sit up and take notice. And when they’re served refreshingly cold, as they should be, it’s a whole new bubblegame.

That said, what most folks notice when they drink sparkling wine is the texture. As far as wine pros are concerned, all wines have texture, and we speak glibly about delicate and velvety mouthfeel, as opposed to coarser sensations. But texture comes boldly to the fore when bubbles are in play: they remind people that the pleasure of wine lies not just in its taste, but in how nice it feels in your mouth. (And, if you drink just the right amount, it feels pretty nice in your body and your head, too.) Real Champagne has the most delicate bubbles; ordinarily, the more you spend, the more elegant the texture will be, owing to the quality of the fruit and the time-consuming care that goes into making fine wine. But in our modern era, many other sparkling wines also have delightful texture.

Every country that makes wine, for the most part, also makes sparkling wine. Italian proseccos, once the barely noticed bastard children of the sparkling-wine world, are now enfants terribles in Manhattan. Hundreds of cocktails are being created by infusing them with various fruits, herbs, and liqueurs: we’re way beyond Harry’s renowned Bellinis here, with everything from cherry and lavender to elderflower and peach to rhubarb and ginger thrown in. On the drier side, Spanish cavas have a rough-and-readiness that makes them perfect accompaniments to shellfish. Me? I love the opulent red color and refreshing taste of sparkling shirazes from Australia.

The other night I had the pleasure of imbibing a 1996 Highfield Estate Elstree Marlborough Cuvée from New Zealand: it was delicate and graceful, racy yet balanced, with a wonderful weight on the tongue. After a few sips, I thought: you put this in a blind tasting with real Champagne, and my guess is a lot of people would prefer the Kiwi sparkler. In a similar vein, the best sparkling-wine value in the world right now (I can’t say ever, but perhaps in my lifetime) is Roederer Estate from California’s Anderson Valley: the regular is outrageously good, but the rosé is absolutely stunning. At around $22 a bottle, it’s still a bit of a splurge, but well worth every penny. The color of pale strawberries, it’s got the kick, the delicate elegance, the X-factor that makes your eyes open wide as you think, What is this?! It shows how far the world beyond Champagne has come. Although I never look a gift Champagne in the mouth, so to speak, when I order out or buy sparkling wines for myself, I always look elsewhere.

In the United States, excellent sparkling wines are being made in, of all places, Massachusetts. Westport Rivers makes a 1990 MAX Maximilian Cuvée that sells for an exorbitant $86 a (literal) pop, but in blind tastings it has beaten the likes of Dom Pérignon. This is how you get a wine region on the map. Westport also makes an Imperial Sec Riesling that is unique, easy to find, and worth the $28 price. You have great sparklers in Long Island, Washington, Oregon, California, and even New Mexico, where Gruet makes a very affordable (around $12) blanc de noirs (meaning the wine is made from pinot noir grapes). In Argentina, in South Africa “” all around the world, in fact “” sparkling wines are popping up and making people’s eyes pop.

So to paraphrase Lord Keynes, though I hope these aren’t my dying words, I wish you would all drink more sparkling wine “” this summer, this fall, whenever. To life!