The Greyhound Wine Critic (or “When Do You Know You Have Too Much Spare Time on Your Hands?”)

So much of the taste of wine comes from its smell. Therefore, I enlisted the help of my greyhound, Nora, to use her super-sensitive smelling abilities as a critic for a side by side competition among several wines. The judging was simple: the more she sniffed or licked the cork or cap, the better the wine must be. Here are the results.

Pinot Noir: Two sniffs, one lick. I knew she wanted a taste but although she’s twenty-eight in dog years, I won’t let her have a sip from my glass. She glared at me like I was Michael Vick until I brought out the next cork. Score: Two paws up.

Cabernet Sauvignon: Only two sniffs but she also aggressively attempted to chew the cork. I have only seen one wine judge lunge for the cork with his teeth before but it was after he’d confused his cold medicine with bull shark testosterone. I have to assume lunging for the cork with one’s teeth is a positive testament for the wine. Score: Two paws up.

Chianti: Three sniffs and enough licking to give the cork the feel of an oil soaked gerbil. I slid the soggy cork back into the bottle and made a mental note not to pour the remainder of the wine for guests. Score: Two paws up.

Lemon Fresh Pine Sol : Two sniffs. In an effort to avoid an appointment with the vet and a date with the ASPCA, I restrained her from licking the cap. Score: Two paws up. I’m beginning to have my doubts about Nora’s palate.

Boone’s Farm (Apple Blossom): One sniff. Nora immediately adopted the same depressed expression she wore when she learned David Archuleta lost American Idol. She then ignored the cap and spent the next fifteen minutes licking the same spot on the carpet. A rather damning statement about the wine considering Nora happily gobbles up dead beetles and frozen rabbit turds. However, my faith in Nora’s judgment is restored. Score: One paw down.

Test conclusion: I probably have too much spare time on my hands.

This week’s recommendation is an excellent Malbec.     

Trivento 2009, Malbec ($8.99): This wine reminds me of a retired greyhound racer. It’s powerful with beautiful structure and at the same time it displays a docile mellowness. In wine speak that means it’s super delicious. At under ten bucks you also feel like you’ve just won at the track.

Learning About Wine is Remotely Complex

The entertainment system in my living room requires seven remotes. That’s not true; actually there are eight but I don’t know what one of them is for. Making the system work the way I want has been a decades long study (I suppose I could get up off the couch and push the buttons manually, but c’mon–really?). I also know there is such a thing as a master remote where one device will do the job of all seven (eight) but I’ve seen them and they look like the control panel in a nuclear facility. Their instruction pamphlets are only slightly smaller than the Sears catalog.

Because I’ve grown up with the system, I know I can’t go straight from TV mode to the DVD setting and expect to watch my Lord of the Rings trilogy (well, I can but the subwoofer won’t work and you need the subwoofer for the Nazgul scenes). I must first switch to DVD to get picture, then to CD for sound, and then watch the movie with the system set on CD. Any other method will not give me access to all sound features. I also know I have to point the correct remote straight at the TV and away (yes, away) from the cable box to turn on cable TV. To listen to my iPod through the system, I select the VCR feature.

By trial and error or sheer dumb luck, I have learned these things over time. Trying to make sense of the dizzying complexities of my seven (eight) remote system is like trying to understand tax law through interpretive dance. God help you if you’re house sitting and you want to watch a movie. No, I think I’m stuck with the seven (eight) remote system because in spite of its complexities, its quirks, its lack of an intuitive method, it’s what I’ve learned. I like it.  

Like the remotes, over time I’ve also learned a million complexities and quirks that I just don’t understand inherent in the world of wine. Why will one bottle of Cabernet go with mushrooms but a different one won’t? Why can one wine taste better after it breathes when another wine falls apart? The short answer: I don’t know, but like my seven (eight) remote system, I like it.

This week’s recommendation has a million of its own tasty quirks.

d’Arenberg 2008, The Footbolt Shiraz ($18.99): This wine is too delicious. My wife and I each found ourselves vying for control of the bottle.

Anatomy of a Wine Buzz

We all know one of the big attractions to wine is that it just tastes good. But let’s be honest; alcohol is an intoxicant. It also makes us feel good. Thanks to a few college classes in biology, anatomy and physiology, and zoology I have learned exactly how alcohol affects us on a physiological level. Let me give you a quick run-through.

We take a sip of our favorite wine and immediately the alcohol comes into contact with glands located directly under the tongue. These glands are responsible for producing hormones that help us control the volume of our speech. Upon contact, the alcohol interferes with these glands by asking them things like, “Are you really going out wearing that shirt?” causing them to retract and produce less of this badly needed hormone. Soon we are talking way too loud.  

Then, receptors in your spleen detect the missing hormone and immediately release chemicals into the bloodstream. In the blood, these chemicals simulate a reality TV show, fooling the brain into believing that it’s both richer and more popular than it really is. People with an excess of these chemicals have an elevated frequency of saying, “You guys are my best friends,” and display a marked decrease in financially responsible spending.

Once the chemicals reach other receptors located in the pancreas, electric signals are produced and sent down nerve fibers to your body’s extremities. These signals mimic the popular kid in junior high and convince all the body parts to do things they shouldn’t. Before long, your larynx believes it can handle that Whitney Houston number, your feet can “outdance all these fools,” and your eyes are saying, “Hang on. I’ll find a karaoke machine!”

Eventually the excess hormones and electronic signals find their way to the base of your spine where they are collected by a small dwarf or frog that lives there and are recycled into carbohydrates to be used during exercise (these carbohydrates have also been known to interfere with decisions about appropriate swim wear in German men).

Yes, education is a good thing. This week’s wine recommendation is also a good thing.

Monte Volpe 2009, Primo Bianco ($8.99): A delicious, affordable, yet very well-made California wine created in the style of an Italian white blend. Like many Italian wines it is also very good with food. Don’t even get me started on what the food does once it reaches your digestive system.

It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time

I recently read about a band of Somali pirates who attacked a U.S. naval warship after mistaking it for a merchant vessel. Talk about wishing you could take that one back. I wonder what the American captain thought when the pirates gave the “Prepare to be boarded!” command. It made me also wonder what flawed line of reasoning the pirate leader used to convince himself and his crew that this was a good idea. As colossal as this mistake was, I can’t be too critical when I think back to some of the reasoning that led to a few of my own bad decisions. Here are a few examples of some flawed logic that I either listened to or dished out:

“I bet I can drive the rest of the way home with the lights turned off.”

“Trouble? It’s just a card game in Tijuana. How can that lead to trouble?”

“She won’t be mad. Just buy the boat.”

“Yes, that chandelier can totally hold your weight.”

“Yeah, seriously. Everyone there will be naked.”

The outcome of this bad logic always resulted in a poor decision. But as the saying goes, “Good decisions come from experience. Experience comes from bad decisions.” In each case, I walked away carrying a little more knowledge whether it was about Latino poker customs, personal relationships, light fixture wiring, or public decency laws.

There have also been times when I’ve heard some bad advice about wine. Some examples:

“Red wine will get stains out of carpet.”

“You can’t go wrong with the restaurant’s Ninja Burger or their wine list.”

“One more glass of wine tonight and you’ll totally ace that interview tomorrow.”

Again, each time I listened to the bad advice, it led to a bad decision. The difference here, however, was with bad wine advice, the outcome tends to be much less serious. Therefore, my advice with wine is to try everything. Step outside your comfort zone. Look for new varietals and new regions. Try a different wine with your favorite meal. Get burned, even. It’s the best way to expand your wine knowledge. You’ll learn something new every time.

My wine advice for this week:

Trinitas 2004, Petite Sirah ($18.00): A very well-made wine that tastes good, smells good, and even looks good in the glass. Try it with a big steak…..what could possibly go wrong?

Wine Snobs and Fruit Roll-Ups

I was recently at a wine tasting in a local liquor store when I heard the guy who was pouring samples telling customers he tasted “nuances of wet earth” in one of the wines. Yeah, nuances of wet earth. Okay, it’s not an uncommon descriptor for wine, and there can be some pretty weird flavor profiles that people taste. I get it.  It just seemed out of place in a setting where most of the people there had a twelve pack of Bud Light in their hands. But when one customer noted that the wine tasted like a Fruit Roll-Up, the pourer jumped in saying, “I don’t think that was the winemaker’s intent. Most wine drinkers taste earthier flavors”.   

 What!?? Waaayyy–eeeet just a second here, Thurston Howell! I hate to break this to you but you’re just the guy that somebody paid to pour the wine. You can say what you taste in the glass but you don’t get to tell us what we taste when we drink this stuff. Someone, please tell this guy the point of wine is to enjoy yourself, not to elevate your status in some geeky, head-of-the-class, pseudo teacher’s pet, elitist sort of way. All this guy needed was a monocle and cane to complete his pompous-ass attire. In one quick statement, he just turned off a potential customer to wine and completely erased all the work the industry has done in the last fifteen years to rid itself of that snobby image.  

  “Tell you what,” I thought. “You can stay here and try to sell your wine by showing everyone you’re a jerk. Good luck with that. Me, I’ll be next door with my loud friends sitting belly up to the bar, drinking wine that tastes like Fruit Roll-Ups, trying to belch the phrase ‘nuances of wet earth’.”

 As you drink this week’s recommendation, remember that nobody can tell you what you like, don’t like, should like, or for that matter, what you taste in a wine.   

 Foxglove 2007, Cabernet Savignon ($16.00): Finding a good California Cabernet in this price range can be tough sometimes. I like this one because I taste more than just one flavor when I drink it. On one hand I taste bigger flavors. One might describe them as, I don’t know, nuances of wet earth? On the other hand I can taste something fruity as well: Red cherries maybe–but if you’re getting Fruit Roll-Ups, that’s cool too.

First Date Dread

It was the first date I ever went on and I wasn’t going to get caught unprepared. I filled the tank with gas, I made sure I had plenty of cash, I knew exactly how to get from my date’s house to the theater, I checked the movie show times, and I wore my coolest sweater. I was ready for every eventuality—except the glass wall. The glass wall divided the ticket area from the lobby, and as I purchased the tickets, my date walked around the wall, through the doors, into the lobby, and back over next to me. She walked thirty feet but stood only five feet away behind the glass. I could see her perfectly.  

 As I put the change in my wallet, I looked up, smiled, and without seeing the wall, walked straight toward her. Up to this point, it had all gone so well. Up to this point, I was still living under the illusion that I was pretty cool. When I think of it, I’m still amazed at how quickly an illusion can be utterly annihilated. Let me give you the play by play: First contact was nose to glass. Next, my nose signaled my brain to commence emergency nose rescue sequence (ENRS) which involves wildly jerking my head back, instantly adopting an uncool panicky facial expression, increasing the flow of tears to the eyes, and letting out a puppy-like yelp (all directly in front of my date, mind you). Finally, my knees and chest hit the glass causing a giant Japanese gong-like noise alerting the entire lobby of movie-goers.

The aftermath was worse. As the entire crowd turned to look toward the source of the yelp/gong, they witnessed a scene that told them exactly what had happened. There on the glass wall at the exact height of my nose stood a single wet spot. And there, next to the wet spot, I stood with tear filled eyes holding my nose. Every picture tells a story.

In some ways, buying wine can be like that date. You can try to account for every eventuality—read reviews, try other wines from the same label, get a recommendation from a friend or the store clerk–and still end up purchasing the wine equivalent of a glass face-plant.

Try this week’s recommendation. It’s much more sophisticated than I was.

Concannon 2009, Central Coast Riesling ($9.99): At ten bucks this wine doesn’t act like a cheap date. It’s just a little sweet but deeply complex—in a “this evening could end up fun” kind of way.    

Winter Wines

Is there such a thing as a winter wine? Technically the best wine for the occasion is whichever one you want to drink. However, because we tend to gravitate toward specific foods in the winter and during the holidays, we also tend to gravitate toward the wines that go so well with them. Below I’ve listed a few of my favorite wines to drink during the winter months.  

 Cabernet Sauvignon–The setting: This wine is perfect for a winter night right after the plow leaves that mountain of snow at the bottom of your driveway. Wait until your neighbor with the new snow blower arrives home from work. Just as he’s pulling into his driveway, make your way to the mailbox with a fake limp and your grandfather’s old cane. Smile, wave, and go back inside and pour a glass of Cabernet. Then watch from the window while he clears the obstacle for you. He’ll feel good because he’s helping someone in need. You’ll feel good because it’s so warm inside.

 Cabernet Franc–The setting: Keep a bottle of this wine on hand for when a relative brings lutefisk to the holiday meal. As you pour the wine into your glass, adopt a pained expression and explain that unfortunately lutefisk doesn’t go well with Cab Franc but you look forward to eating it tomorrow when leftover lutefisk is a holiday tradition after ice skating. True, you haven’t skated since you were four years old and the dish won’t make it out of the refrigerator until it has to be thrown away but your relative is left happy knowing that they’ve contributed to your holiday tradition. You’re left happy drinking delicious Cab Franc.

 Merlot–The setting: Choose Merlot when it’s time to wrap gifts. Tell your husband/wife you’ll get some cheese and crackers and pour some wine and will be right back to help. Stay in the kitchen while they get lost in the task at hand. Pour two glasses and begin to sip. Periodically clink glasses together and yell “Are we out of Brie?” Sip some more. Open and close a few drawers. When gifts are wrapped, return with two glasses while complimenting his or her progress.

 This week’s recommendation is a blend of all three of these wines.  

 Hook & Ladder 2007, The Tillerman ($17.99): Delicious and perfect with hearty stews and other big winter meals. Also a perfect wine to enjoy while not gift wrapping, shoveling, or eating lutefisk.

What Do Ninjas and White Figure Skates Tell Us About Merlot?

When I was twelve, my best friend had a little brother. Being an eight-year-old little brother is about as cool as trying to be a ninja when you’re thirty-five. Of course, when you’re twelve, it’s a cosmic truth that no eight-year-old is going to seem cool, but this kid didn’t do much to alter that truth either. Here are some pointers I picked up from that eight-year-old about trying to fit in with his brother’s twelve-year-old friends:    1) If you’re the only kid on the hockey rink with figure skates, be sure they’re not white. 2) Bear in mind that any group of twelve-year-old boys who spent the last week playing army will not be favorably disposed to crawling under the ping-pong table to play rabbits.           3) When your middle name is “Neil” and your last name is “King,” repeating the phrase “Kneel before the king! Kneel before the king!” is not even remotely cool. There are more but those are a few of the big ones.

 As the years passed and the difference in our ages became less of a factor, I noticed some things. For one, at seventeen his jump shot was better than his older brother’s. At twenty three, he was always the guy at the end of the evening with the phone number of the hottest girl at the party–something his brother could never do. At twenty six he was working as an engineer—and not the train kind either. I eventually learned that he could show his own variety of cool that was unlike his brother’s.

 Cabernet Sauvignon has a dorky little brother too–Merlot. It grows in the same areas and has many of the same flavor profiles as Cabernet but it’s a mistake to think less of him for not doing what his big brother does so well. For example, he often doesn’t go with that thick steak as well as Cabernet. He does, however, work better with roast chicken. Merlot is often fruitier than Cabernet (as in real fruit, not the dorky kind of fruitiness encountered by playing rabbits under the ping-pong table) so it tends to not overwhelm food like his big bro. This week’s recommendation displays the best of Merlot’s unique and un-Cabernet-like qualities.     

 Artesa 2005, Merlot ($22.99): The light oak and tannins in this wine are completely supported by the soft fruit; much like a hockey stick completely supports a kid on two white figure skates.

What Can S’mores Tell Us About Wine?

In an effort to make the standard s’more a better choice for a camping snack, I attempted to improve or substitute all three ingredients–graham crackers, chocolate, and marshmallows with something healthier. The new packages listed all kinds of benefits. Below are the changes or substitutions I made and a brief description of how they differed from the original.  

 The graham crackers: Substituted with whole wheat and trans fat free graham crackers. This is the only snack whose flavor profile is based on gravel.

 The chocolate: Replaced with carob. Carob is a substitute for chocolate in the sense that Will Purdue was a substitute for Michael Jordan.

 The marshmallows: Substituted with sugar free marshmallows. They leave a persistent chemical taste stuck in your head that is more difficult to get out than that song “Muskrat Love.”

 I roasted the new marshmallows using the same formula we all do: 1) Starting slowly and holding them near the fire so they turn that golden brown color. 2) Losing patience and moving them directly into the fire. 3) Urgently jerking them back out when they burst into a hissing ball of flame. 4) Frantically blowing on them hard enough to burst an ear drum so as to extinguish the aforementioned hissing ball of flame.      5) Deciding the one tiny white corner that is still not a charcoal colored cinder can be turned to a delicious golden brown by again patiently holding the marshmallows near the fire. 6) Sticking them back in by the fire to begin the entire process all over again.

When they were done, I slopped the molten, ash filled cream on the Will Purdue/gravel cracker sandwich and placed another gravel cracker on top. I then bit into something about as pleasant as an African civil war.

 In spite of the improvements listed on the ingredients’ packaging, the changes could not be considered an upgrade to the s’more’s good name (unless increasing the price to $12 each is an improvement).

 Wine has similar upgrades on its packaging to be wary of. The terms “Old vine” or “Reserve” on a label does not necessarily mean it’s an improvement. Although it can be a step up for some producers, the terms have no legal or agreed upon definition. This week’s recommendation uses no such terms.

 Dry Creek Vineyard 2006, Cabernet Sauvignon ($21.99): Packed with coffee, tobacco, and chocolate covered cherries, it sort of reminds me of some of my camping trips in college.

Wine Critics and Romanian Moonshine-Be Skeptical of Both

When traveling through Romania in the early nineties, I had the opportunity to try Romanian moonshine. This drink was  . . . how can I put it? . . .yes, that’s it—bad. The locals brewed the mix in wash tubs in their basements with plums grown in their own yards. Without industry standards for consistency (or health and safety, for that matter) the drink was typically strong enough to warrant donning a hazmat suit when handling it. The distilling process was far from perfect as evidenced by the errant hair or lint or gnat floating pickled in the fluid. Wide mouthed mason jars and long-necked orange soda bottles were filled in back alleys when a fresh batch was ready for distribution. The array of bottle shapes and styles gave them all a kind of matching similarity, in a strange Twilight Zone sort of way.

One evening, a village official invited us to a little welcoming party. The party was the perfect showcase for the locals to show off their brew—kind of like a wine tasting, except maybe one organized by Satan. To my surprise, a number of local moonshine experts uniformly preferred a brew made by one of the townsfolk (Vlad the beet farmer). These critics were men whose opinion the rest of the village respected, men whose vast experience provided them with unique insight and expertise. These experts then goaded, pressured, and otherwise bullied me into trying a shot of their village’s pride.

I tipped the shot glass back and in a flash I wondered if I would ever be able to use my lips and tongue again in a meaningful way. I think I also briefly saw Jim Morrison of The Doors speaking with Genghis Kahn in the corner. The drink’s full potency hit me in the back of the head like my cousin’s numchuck hit me that day he tried to demonstrate his “chucknique” in grandpa’s basement. In that moment, my skepticism of drink critics was born.

With this week’s recommendation, I disagree with an expert as vehemently as a shot of Romanian moonshine disagrees with one’s gastrointestinal tract.

Trapiche Broquel 2008, Malbec ($15.99): This wine received a rather tepid score from a well-respected national critic. In a strongly worded letter, I told him of a small Romanian village in need of a good moonshine taster. I believe Trapiche is one of the best Malbecs on the shelf.

Lots of Wine but no Relief at the Wine Show

Last week I attended a wine tasting hosted by a large local distributor. The show was huge. Every varietal, every country, and every price point was represented. Below is a rough outline of my evening.

 7:00: I sign in. The woman at the table informs me the restrooms are toward the back. I make a mental note to hit them later. I taste at table one.

 7:05: One of the first tables is tasting beer. A small group of guys stands nearby talking about football. I’m tasting wine tonight. I move on, keeping one eye open for a restroom. I taste at table nine.

 7:15: I am at a table tasting Pinot Noir where a group of men describe tasting “hints of forest floor.” I leave to find the beer guys again. I taste at table fourteen. A restroom would be nice.

 7:15-8:15: I taste at tables fourteen to fifty five. None of them know where the restrooms are. I begin to doubt one exists. I’m feeling good.

 8:43: For the first time, I have pronounced all Bordeaux wines on one of the French tables correctly. I wonder if sampling so many wines has given me super powers. I taste all the wines at the French table.  

 8:45: I return to the Italian table and try to pronounce “Montepulciano.”  I can not. I do not have super powers. I taste all the wines at the Italian table and ask about a restroom.

 8:45-9:10: I taste at tables fifty five to sixty two. So much good wine to try. I glance at my tasting notes; they appear to have been written in a cross between Sanskrit and Portuguese.     

 9:15: The one functioning neuron in my frontal lobe tells me to eat something. Apparently this neuron was not working when I decided I would simply use the restroom later.

 9:16: The guy at the food table says the restrooms are toward the front. I create a heap of food on my plate that embarrasses the people I’m with.

 9:45: I stop at table seventy four. The light refracting through a Chardonnay bottle creates a vision of Bacchus the god of wine. It’s beautiful. I ask it if he’s seen the restroom.

 10:05: I’m not done but the lights are blinking. I hand my car keys to my friend and climb in the car without using the restroom.

 This week’s recommendation:

 Dante 2008, Cabernet Sauvignon ($9.99): At a meager $10, this wine was a standout in a huge room full of wines. A map of the event’s floor plan shows its table was right next to the restrooms.

Too Much of a Good Thing Ruins the Show

Years ago a friend of mine, Mike, got a ticket to the concert where Bob Dylan shared the stage with the Grateful Dead. He was so excited he could barely speak. As the night of the show approached, Mike was determined to make this the best evening ever. To fit in with the Dead Heads at the show (the group that follows the band for an entire tour by setting aside petty annoyances like jobs) he dug out some old hippie beads and borrowed his sister’s tie-dyed shirt.

 Upon arriving at the concert, Mike pushed through the turnstile, ran straight past his assigned seat, and headed for the best view of the show possible. Once on the floor, he figured why stop there, and with a light hop, vaulted over the three foot, wimpy fence that tour organizers somehow thought would hold back tens of thousands of rabid groupies. Everything he did just kept making the show better. That is, until Buford the security guy decided he would single-handedly restore order.

 Buford wore a crew cut and a pair of zebra patterned Zubas and was moonlighting as a security guard so he could open his own martial arts studio in the suburbs. He didn’t like hippies or their music and no hippie was going to hop the fence on his watch. He grabbed Mike, and like a wolf carries a squirrel, escorted him to the exit and unceremoniously deposited him on the sidewalk outside. Just as Mike heard the first notes of “Sugar Magnolia” playing, the door swung shut.

 So what happened? Why did the whole evening turn out so wrong? Simple: Mike went too far. He added one too many good things and by doing so the entire event was ruined. Wine makers do this all the time only instead of hopping a wimpy fence, the culprit is the addition of too much oak flavor. The oak comes from the barrels that the wine is aged in and is delicious—to a point. Time and again, however, the juice is kept in those barrels too long and it ruins the wine’s complexity. This week’s recommendation is aged in steel barrels and leaves oak out of the mix entirely.

 Mallee Sands 2006, Chardonnay ($12.99): Think of oak as makeup: a little can be good but we can’t always go walking around looking like KISS. With the oak left out of this wine, a natural beauty is exposed underneath.

Grenache: A New Cool

I had a friend in college who was a blast to party with. I think everyone knows somebody like this. They walk into the party and the room lights up. They’re boisterous, a bit over the top, edgy, and maybe even a little vulgar in a way that makes them endearing in a bad boy sort of way. With this person at the party, the evening will likely end with a bed or closet set on fire and the rest of the party-goers beating on pots and pans as they dance around the blaze. You want to be just like him, and with a couple drinks down your throat you make a silent promise to yourself not to take life so seriously from now on. You’re going to quit the internship at the accountant’s office and look for a crew that needs a helping hand lassoing crocodiles in Australia. You’re going to ask not just one, but both cute girls from the mail room out; maybe on the same night. Yes, your life should be bigger and bolder–just like your popular friend’s.

Then, by the end of your senior year, something changes. His stories don’t capture you the way they used to. You’ve heard most of them before. He seems a bit too loud for the situation. Yes, he’s still popular but the way he still refers to himself in the third person (usually by a nick-name like “Big T” or a misspelled word like “Rude Boi”) is a bit over the top. Some nights just seem to call for more subdued company. You find different people at the party to talk to. These new people are more refined. Maybe they don’t climb mountains but they do stuff like rebuild old cars, and that’s pretty cool too. Before long, you find these new people fascinating and a better fit for your taste.

This is exactly how I discovered Grenache. I just had a few too many nights in a row with the “Rude Boiz” of the wine world. It got old drinking wine where too much of a good thing was crammed into the juice. It got to be too loud, not right for the occasion, too over the top–a bit like drinking jam or syrup. This week’s recommendation is a Spanish Grenache.  

Etim 2006, Grenache ($16.99):  Etim is not the loudest guy at the party. With balanced flavors and a great aroma it has a quieter respectability–like the guy you don’t mind when he asks out your sister.

A Quest for the Worst

When you expose yourself to classic works of art or literature, somehow you make yourself better. You become richer, fuller, more well-rounded. Does the opposite happen when you expose yourself to bad works of art? Are you somehow hurt or damaged? And furthermore, does this phenomenon carry over to wine? This week I wanted to know what the worst possible wine on the market is. I chose them by either price or reputation. Below are my tasting notes from bad to worse.

 Boone’s Farm, Strawberry Hill ($2.99): This was the best of the bunch, although here that’s a little like being the smartest kid on the short bus. At 7.5% alcohol, this was nothing more than a wine cooler: a bad wine cooler, yes, but a wine cooler. The strawberry flavor was less like fresh fruit and more like Frankenberry cereal. I could drink this if my boss ordered it at a business dinner and I needed to brown nose.

 Silver Satin ($3.99): I could put up with this like I can put up with a mild sunburn. It smells good in a way that bad things smell when the manufacturer adds good things to mask or overpower their natural scent. Believe it or not, this is easy to drink because it doesn’t have much flavor other than the 19% alcohol and slight cough syrup finish. I price shopped three stores for this and all three asked me if I was going to pickle fish.

 Night Train Express ($3.99):  Now we’re getting deeper into the swill forest. Night train is the child of the E & J Gallo wine company (although their web site makes no mention of Night Train the way some parents make no mention of their crack-head child). At first the taste is palatable, like some kind of over-the-counter lung medicine, but once it’s down your throat, a chemical aroma permeates your entire head. In a blind taste test I would guess this to be a product of Dow or DuPont. NTE logs in at 17.5% alcohol. 

 Richard’s Wild Irish Rose ($3.25): I’ve just crossed the line from heinous to satanic. The nose smells identical to the sawdust-like stuff the janitor sprinkled on vomit in elementary school. On the palate, a weak taste of fruit quickly dissipates and is immediately overpowered by more sawdust stuff and a momentary battle with my gag reflex. RWIR sports 13.9% alcohol. I can’t believe a drink can get worse.

 MD 20/20 ($4.99): It does. It’s funny how tastes and smells can momentarily whisk you away, back to another time in your life. Fortunately, my life has never been this bad so instead, I was whisked to someone else’s life. I think he was a plumber in New Jersey. MD comes in a flatter, flask-like bottle, presumably to make it easier to sneak it into the theater or your AA meeting. If this is not something you’d force down to kill a parasite, it’s something you’d sit in to remove a tattoo. The weak grape flavor quickly morphs to a sensation of standing inside a wet garbage can. MD is 13% alcohol.

 No recommendation this week. I’m sticking to water for a little while.

Just What IS the Difference Between American and European Wines?

What is the difference between American and European wine? That’s like trying to describe the difference between American and European people: it can only be done with broad, sweeping generalizations. For example, men in America generally aren’t seen wearing berets (outside of a poetry reading), but in France, it’s commonplace. Women in America tend to shave their legs, but European women seem to prefer the more natural leg-warmer look. Drivers in America tend to use an organized system for navigating the streets, while drivers in Italy, well, let’s just say the automobile is probably something the Italians never should have been told about. Yes, these generalizations tend to be true but at the same time, there are plenty of exceptions. Generalizing about wines from the two continents is exactly the same, that’s why it’s so difficult to describe them; just when you think you’ve got it nailed, you find a wine that smashes the stereotype to pieces like your buddy showing up at the football game in a beret. In spite of all the exceptions, I’m going to take a stab at it.

 Wines tend to take on the personality of the land they come from. Therefore, American wines tend to be larger-than-life bold. European wines are often more subtle, more old-world refined. American wines show the boldness of a delicious fresh fruit salad while European wines resemble the understated complexity of an herb potpourri. In European wines you taste the earth; in American wines you taste the sun. Think of it this way: one is Pam Anderson while the other is Kate Winslet. Both have attributes that are desirable, but each displays them differently.

 When you grow up drinking one style (at least from the age of 21), it is sometimes difficult to make the change to the other. It’s kind of the taste bud’s equivalent of trying to change to the metric system. For that reason, I chose this week’s recommendation. It uses elements of both styles as seamlessly as a hotdog fondue.   

 Santa Duc Les, Vieilles Vigne 2007, Cotes du Rhone ($15.99):  This is France’s version of a Cadillac. SDL keeps all the old-world character and charm of a Citroen Duck but it’s got the big, bold, in your face charisma of an Escalade. I tasted flint and graphite and it’s a testament to a winemaker who can make those flavors (flavours?) taste delicious.

When Good Winemakers Go Bad

Cleaver Bill carefully lifted the plastic sack from behind the toilet. Removing the towel the bag was wrapped in, he wondered if the butterflies he felt were a result of his excitement or the fact that he caught the faintest whiff of the sludge inside. It didn’t matter. Now he had to concentrate. Using his prison issue boxers as a facemask, Bill removed the twisty from the top of the sack and peered inside. A cloud of warm gas flowed from the bag and over his shaved, tattooed head. Even through the shorts, his eyes burned and he knew better than to breathe.

 The mix looked different today. Gone was the color of crushed cafeteria oranges, replaced by a tepid gray. Gone too, were the chunks of bread crust he added for yeast, dissolved into the fermenting liquid. One by one, Bill lifted the thirty ketchup packets, the last additions to the concoction, and squeezed their contents into the bag. He had already ripped open each packet corner (he liked that part) so he could hold the bag with one hand and squeeze ketchup with the other. Omitting this step caused him to spill the sauce, making embarrassing stains on his orange jump suit. This was the good stuff–Heinz. He didn’t use the lesser generic brands which make the recipe taste kind of cheap. Those were the shortcuts the hacks down in cell B used.

 With unmistakable pride, Cleaver Bill resealed the bag and warmed it under the sink. He rewrapped the bag with the dirty towel, knelt by the toilet, and with reverence, placed it once again in its hiding spot. Bill didn’t care about the respect he would earn in the courtyard, he was just happy to be making the best hooch this block ever tasted.

 So why the ballad of Cleaver Bill? Because believe it or not, Bill is a good winemaker. He only considers using the best ingredients available and he strives to make the best product possible. Winemaker Gregory Graziano is a little like Bill except he has some of the best grapes from Mendocino County available for his wine. With this week’s recommendation, he skillfully integrates four Italian varietals and gets them to work together seamlessly like he was the Big House kingpin.

 Monte Volpe 2007, Prima Rosa ($11.99): Delicious and complex. Ripe blackberries and plums pop in and out doing short time while soft tannins lazily hang out on the palate like lifers.

Debunking the Rose Conspiracy Theory

My wife prefers to drink whites during the summer months. I’m always a bigger fan of the reds. Finding something that we can both agree on has sometimes been a quest as difficult as locating Big Foot. We find ourselves searching for that rare and elusive compromise–something that has the best characteristics of each. But is there really such a thing? Really? I asked the local liquor store clerk, and he pulled out some old blurry photos of a bottle he saw somewhere near the rear of his store back in ‘87. Through a toothless grin he told me he believes more bottles are probably still back there if I just hiked back far enough.

            “Those photos are fake!” blurted one of the customers listening in.

            “They are not,” chirped another. “I heard a critic from Napa review that wine just last week.”

            “That critic was born in Kenya!” shouted the first.

            “I heard there was a second critic on the grassy knoll.” chimed in a third.

             I left them there arguing and continued my search. I wandered the store, hearing rumors of sightings. One guy with a southern accent and a badly stained flannel shirt said he was abducted and forced to take a ride in a delivery truck that carried this mysterious wine and that all remaining bottles had been tucked away in a top secret, military facility somewhere in the desert. Another guy said he saw Elvis buy the last bottle just a few days before. I didn’t know what to believe.  

 Turns out, there is such a beast and it’s not all that rare. Rose has gained enormous popularity lately partly because it shares the best qualities of both red and white wines. When you taste this week’s recommendation, the fruity crispness of a white wine is front and center, but at the same time rare peeks of complexity and bolder red-like flavors rise to the surface like a camera shy dinosaur that’s hiding in a Scottish loch.

 Crios de Susana Balbo, Rose’ of Malbec ($11.99): With Crios, you get the best of both worlds–Sort of like a cat that can also flush birds or a dog that can use the litter box. Rose is meant to be drunk young and is at its best slightly chilled. Twenty minutes in the fridge should do it.

Petite Sirah. What’s in a Name?

When I was in junior high I joined the gymnastics team. To this day I don’t know what the appeal was. I don’t follow the sport, I wasn’t raised by former gymnasts, and I don’t particularly like wearing tights in front of people. Perhaps even at that age I had an appreciation for the art of such controlled strength (although at 5’9” and 115 lbs. my build was a rather imperfect medium to display that art). The rings, in particular, held my interest. In fact I worked so hard on them that the team dubbed me “Ring Man.” Soon the time came for our first meet where all the parents were invited to watch, and when my turn came to do my routine, the entire team hoped “Ring Man” would score well and put us ahead.

 I was lifted to the rings by the coach and all eyes in the gym were glued on me. The problem became apparent immediately. Rather than concentrating on the routine, Ring Man let himself become distracted by his buddy off to the side who was trying to make him laugh. Using all my efforts to hold it together, I had nothing left for anything more than just hanging on to those rings and the seconds awkwardly passed. Eventually an ugly, silence filled the gym. Everyone waited. There was no routine, no maneuvers, no movement at all; just a skinny kid hanging from the rings shaking with laughter. After an eternity, I let go, dropped to the mat, and with a red face saluted the judges. To my surprise a loud, robust applause erupted as the team and the parents showed their appreciation for the effort. They all saw what was happening off to the side, and while it wasn’t a good gymnastics routine, it was a memorable performance.

 So what’s the parallel between that story and Petite Sirah? Here it is, and it’s a weak one: Petite Sirah has no more to do with being petite or Sirah than Ring Man had to do with being an ace on the rings. Both were misnamed. Rather than showing petite, light, delicate flavors, Petite Sirah displays bigger, bolder, darker characteristics. Unlike Syrah, Petite Sirah displays a fuller body, heavier structure, and is often more tannic. While the two are often blended together, they are distinctly different grapes.

 Although different than Syrah, this week’s recommendation still gives a memorable performance. For the price, it’s a gold medal contender.

 Concannon 2007, Petite Sirah ($14.99):  Dark chocolate and pepper hang suspended on the finish like a laughing gymnast.      

Pinot Noir: The Randy Moss of Wines

Drinking Pinot Noir is like watching Randy Moss play football. Play after play I’d sit and watch, waiting to see what Moss was capable of on the field. Play after play I was disappointed. When he became frustrated he used to check out of games, not even trying for long stretches. He got into trouble with unsportsmanlike behavior during end zone celebrations. Once, during a loss, Moss left the field before the end of the game abandoning the team as he wandered off toward the showers like a cow heading to the trough at feeding time. Injuries seemed to hang on him for entire seasons. Off the field, he got busted for, and admitted to marijuana use. Once when trying to make an illegal turn in traffic, a control officer tried to stop him. Rather than complying with annoying little things like following the law, Randy found it easier to simply push the officer aside with his car, knocking her to the ground. Yes, he did so many things wrong.

Then, just when I thought watching Randy Moss became tedious, he would perform something unbelievably, amazingly beautiful. Fans would leap to their feet, buckets of popcorn were kicked across the room and leather sofas got covered in spilled beer. With a seventy-yard, one-handed acrobatic reception against the big division rival, Moss showed us just why we kept watching. When he did it right, it was truly amazing.

Pinot Noir is exactly the same. Its grapes are difficult to grow and consequently is usually expensive. Pinot Noir is also hard to work with and requires a very competent winemaker. Furthermore, Pinot’s thin skin makes it susceptible to disease. If it’s grown in unsuitable areas it produces the most heinous of swill. Again and again Pinot disappoints. So why do we keep buying it? Because when it’s done right, it’s so good you just want to pour the bottle over your head. When it’s done right, it has all the power and complexity of the bigger, darker wines but keeps those qualities tucked within its lighter body. It has power without weight like a flyweight boxer packing a Mike Tyson punch. It shows traits ranging from light red fruits to the darker mochas and coffee-like flavors, often within the same sip.

This week’s recommendation is a great example of what this problem ridden but talented grape can do.

Sebastiani 2007, Pinot Noir ($17.99): Sebastiani is like a Pinot Noir highlight reel showing the grape’s best plays while making no mention of its Prima Donna-like problems.

Wine Pairing Made Easy

Walking into a wine store without knowing what I want can be as bad as walking into Blockbuster without knowing what I want. It’s always the same: After forty five minutes of doing isle laps, I pick a bottle with a good looking label and pray I haven’t chosen the wine equivalent of Leprechaun 4: In the Hood. Then, after the store clerk tells me my wine will only pair with Kazakhstani lutefisk I get the sinking feeling that drinking this wine with the pizza I had planned for tonight would be the pairing equivalent of showing the kids Reservoir Dogs.

 In the past I’ve used “red wine with beef, white wine with chicken and fish” as my pairing compass but I can’t continue to attempt brain surgery with something as crude as a wrench. A new tool is needed to help with this challenging dilemma. I need something more complex with more options to address the subtleties of hundreds of spices and grape varietals.

 Natalie MacLean, wine critic and sommelier, has the answer: The tool is called “Food & Wine Matcher” and is on her site here. With two or three clicks of the mouse I can now narrow my choices to a short list of wines that go with my dish. Tonight, for example, I’ll click on “Pizza” and a list of options appears. From those options, I then click on “Combination” and behold, there’s my short list of wines to drink with my combination pizza. For something so robust, the tool is very simple. The matcher will also go the other way where I can start with the wine and after two or three clicks have my short list of dishes to serve with it. 

At this time Natalie does not have a movie/wine pairing feature on her matcher. I’m sure having one would have spared me from Earnest Goes to Camp. However, by using the matcher I did learn that this week’s recommendation is extremely food friendly.

 Hook & Ladder 2008, Chardonnay ($17.99): This wine reminds me of a high school kid that has their act together: It’s youthful, fresh, crisp, and has a Sprite-like lemon-lime taste but at the same time it uses a refined amount of light oak to lend it a degree of sophistication.

Major League Wine at a Minor League Price

I like surprises. I don’t mean the kind where you arrive home to find your back woods in flames. I mean the other kind where you’re bumbling along and something unexpectedly good happens: Your blind date turns out to be hot, you get home five hours later than usual to find that your dog indeed has waited for you, you review your finances to find you really do have the money to take that trip to France (okay, this one hasn’t actually happened but I’m still hoping). That kind.

 My most recent wine surprise happened when I got a recommendation from a wine store clerk wearing a Metallica t-shirt. Not that 80’s era rock band t-shirts necessarily disqualify someone as a knowledgeable wine critic but I was in a hurry and it’s all I had to go on.

 “It’s like totally complex and everything,” he said. Hearing those words reminded me of past girlfriends where being described as “complex” was another way of saying “problematic”. Not wanting to appear as if I completely rejected his recommendation, I took the bottle. What the heck, it was only nine bucks. I brought the bottle home, placed it in my cellar next to my other cheap wines reserved for weeknights and promptly forgot about it. Weeks later when it was the only bottle left, I decided to open it in the spirit of discovery and exploration (Or desperation. It was the only one left).

 “It’s like totally complex and everything,” I blurted after the first taste. After discovering Luzon, I now I know how the junior high school coach feels when he discovers he’s got a future pro hall of famer on his team who so outclasses his peers as to make them somehow appear inbred. This was simply the most complexity per dollar I could ever remember. For anyone looking for a good entry into a “European styled” wine without the need to see your banker first, this is an excellent candidate.  

  Luzon 2008, Jumilla ($8.99): Tasting Luzon reminded me of a group of kids in the Scared Straight program: Licorice, mint, raspberries, smoke, and all the other characters were in attendance but none of them dared take a step out of line. After a little more research, I discovered the 2007 vintage was named Wine of the Year by Wine Enthusiast magazine. Luzon is a great example of balance and complexity.

Canadian Wines Get Their Chance

“Well, what are you looking for?” asked Bradley. I knew his name was Bradley because he wore a nametag saying “Bradley”. That’s a hard question in a wine shop. It’s not like going to a store that sells, say, buckets, where you can say—“I’m looking for a bucket” and the clerk will happily point one out that’s virtually the same as all the other items in the store. And I couldn’t state the obvious—“I’m looking for a good wine,” either as I doubt any shoppers enter the store and ask for a delicate little wine that is bad to perhaps only slightly sub par.

 So in the end, and in the interest of saving time, I said, “Something I can take to a party that nobody has tried before and I can be sure won’t embarrass me.” Without hesitation the clerk led me to the back of the shop where a small group of Canadian Wines sat. “Canadian wines?’ I thought. In my mind I already saw how the party would go: The other party guests who got their recommendations from sommeliers and other enlightened Swamis would receive copious accolades for the bottles they brought while I spent the evening in the kitchen hiding behind the garbage can wondering why I just hadn’t stuck with California.

 “Trust me,” said Bradley. “If they don’t like it I’ll give you your money back.”

SOLD! I wondered if I could just blame the selection on my wife.

 Later that night, as the host opened the wine, I anxiously looked toward the exits. I still had time to visit Bradley for a refund. I imagined a wine from Canada would be something like an Amish electrician: good enough to service the locals but not really ready for the big-time. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Party goers loved it and quickly refilled their glasses as I began spewing the few facts about Canadian wine I learned from Bradley at the register.

 Canada has produced wine for over 200 years. The Niagara Peninsula in Ontario is about 100 miles due West of New York’s Finger Lakes region and currently hosts more than 70 wineries. The wine below is a perfect example of their quality.      

 Vineland Estates 2008, Semi Dry Riesling ($14.99): Sweet, yes but it’s kept in check by a hint of minerality that reminds me of tasting a wet stone. There’s also pear, grapefruit, and honey…..eh? 

A Fresh Start for Australian Wines

In some ways the Australian wine industry is like the pro athlete who in one week, gets caught with a hooker, punches his coach, inadvertently fires his illegal firearm in public, tests positive for eleven of the twenty something substances banned by his sport, tears a hamstring, and drives his car into a parade float–all while having a performance slump.

 Right now wines from down under are reeling from both bad luck and bad decisions. Recent droughts, hot summers and unfavorable exchange rates with the Australian currency create real obstacles for the wineries.  In addition, large multinational corporations pumping out swill rather than building a better brand with their finer wines have wreaked havoc with Australia’s reputation. Finally, the trend in wines has been away from the bigger, bolder juice that Australia has become known for. One in every six wineries in Australia is unprofitable today as prices have been slashed, and the surplus of wine creates a problem for selling their newer vintages.

 Although Australian wines have taken a few hits recently, they’re also a lot like the All-Star Wrestler that keeps getting up again and again in spite of the beating he takes. If the wine’s problems seem like a terminal diagnosis, tasting the wines I recommend below gives me new hope for the region, like a doctor saying: “Yes, the prognosis is correct, you have four months to live. Oh…. Wait…I’m sorry. I was looking at the wrong test results. Your results look fine.”

 Now many Australian wineries are diversifying to new styles of wine offering an option to the flabby, heavier fruit bombs that were so popular a few years ago. There is a broader showcase of terrific regional wines emerging that promises to pull them from their own NBA rookie-like public relations nightmare.

 Yalumba 2008, Viognier ($11.99): Peaches, citrus, spice, apricots and all the other flavors work together in this wine for the greater good. No prima donnas here to spoil a great team effort.

 Small Gully 2004, The Formula Robert’s Shiraz ($16.99): The Charles Barkley of wine:  A little flabbiness doesn’t matter if it’s doing everything else right . Just when you think it will be another over-the-top example of what Australia was doing wrong, structured flavors of mocha, dark fruit, and menthol arrive to give it game. 

Wine and Nerds: A Good Pairing

Some friends and I were hanging out at a buddy’s house when we started giving him a hard time about his collection of action figures he kept on his bedroom shelves. He’d been buying and selling them all his life. There they sat, still in the box he purchased them in, unused and protected in their special place. After looking at one I put it back on the shelf, apparently in the wrong position because he immediately scooped it up and placed it back in its original hallowed spot. It seemed crazy to me that someone would just keep them almost hermetically sealed and pristine for so long. Some of them even carried a signature from an actor who played a role on the TV series the figure came from. He almost went ballistic when a friend suggested we open one to see it more closely. It was crazy.

He tried to defend himself by turning to me and asking me how many bottles of wine I had tucked away in my cellar. I wasn’t following his point. He asked if we could open one of my Conn Valley Cabernets. Indignantly I told him he was mad to even think of already opening something from the 2005 vintage. He then suggested we open a 2004 Cerbaiona Brunello.

“Maybe in ten years,” I retorted, laughing.   

“How about a Chateau Branaire?” he asked.

“Sorry, man. Those are in their original wooden box. I might sell them someday,” I replied (years ago I bought those at a great price and I’m sure some adoring fan would be happy to have them).

“Then let’s have your bottle of Dashe Zin,” he continued.

“Michael Dashe signed that!” I cried. “Are you crazy?”

“Oh, that’s right,” he said. “You keep that right under the Nebbiolo, correct?”

Jeez, was this guy insane? Everyone knows you don’t keep a full bodied California Zinfandel in the medium bodied Italian varietal section.

 Don’t get me wrong. He’s a nice guy. He’s just a little over zelous with his collection. And recommending that we open my signed bottle of Dashe? Honestly!

 This week’s recommendation is for the nerdier wine enthusiast.

Marquis de Fonsequille 2007, Vacqueyras ($17.99): Vacqueyras is a little known and under-appreciated appellation in the southern Rhone region of France. MdF is big and tannic, yet structured and balanced. It has a meaty gaminess wrapped up in a medium body: A great match for red meats.

Crazy Eddie’s Used Wine Lot

Completely uneducated, I went to a used car lot to buy my first car. The first clue telling me I chose the wrong dealer was when I looked in the rear view mirror and saw the salesmen high-fiving each other as I drove the car off the lot. By the time I owned the car for a year I created a new way to drive that involved holding the window up with my elbow, holding the dash in place with my knee, and keeping a list of which accessories shorted out the entire electrical system. Thinking back, that dealer did not have my best interest in mind. For my next purchase, I needed to not only educate myself but find a new place to shop for cars.

 With wine, a little education and the right place to shop can also make a big difference in the quality of the product you end up with. For an education, there is a great new book out by wine critic Carolyn Evans-Hammond called Good Better Best Wines. It’s kind of a Consumer Reports for wines where she rates the popular big brand name wines under $15. The reviews are complete with tasting notes and clear photos of the labels. The book is available through Amazon and like the wines she reviews, is under $15.

 For a place to shop, look for more wine-focused liquor stores where the staff is passionate about wine. France 44 in Minneapolis, for example, has free wine tasting every Friday and Saturday. It allows you to “test drive” the wine before you buy. Shakopee Wine Cellars offers an interesting twist with its video coupon. You sign up, and then once a week you receive a short video via email featuring the owner’s smiling mug announcing a special deal available only to those on his email list. He often talks about the featured wine so it’s a great way to learn about what you’re buying. Unlike my car dealer, he’s not trying to get rid of the lemons. Rather, the owner finds a wine he likes and then charms the distributors for a super price that he can use for the video.  

 This week’s recommendation:

Souverain 2008, Alexander Valley Chardonnay ($15.99): This wine is the purple Buick of the wine world: It’s big and it’s smooth and doesn’t apologize for lumbering along in the left lane with its huge, delicious flavors of oak and butter.

With Wine, Trust Your Own Palate

“Who are three people who have never been in my kitchen?” replied Cliff Clavin, the know-it-all character from the sitcom Cheers, during his appearance on Jeopardy. This was not the answer host Alex Trebek was looking for when the he asked the contestants to identify the three names listed on the board. Technically, Cliffy’s answer was correct; the three never once stepped foot in his kitchen.

            “But that’s obviously not what we were going for here,” said Trebek after hearing Clavin’s technically correct answer.

            “Obvious to whom?” replied Clavin, again making a legitimate point.

            Cliff’s answer was right yet in the end, the response was ruled wrong and Mr. Clavin lost all his prize money.

 Tasting wine differs from Jeopardy because with wine there are no incorrect answers about what you experience. How can somebody else possibly tell you what you taste, what you like, and why? So many times people believe, incorrectly, that they need to have the same experience as the critics. They’re told which wines they should like or dislike. This is exactly why such a culture of snobbery surrounds wine. Here’s my point: Tasting wine is not like completing a history test or filling out an IRS form; you can put whatever answer you like and it’s still right. When your friend at a wine party describes “hints of forest floor” in a wine, your description of, “tastes like those little plastic green army men I used to play with,” is no less valid. If it tastes like plastic toys to you, nobody can, or should, tell you otherwise.

 To prove my point, a highly regarded wine critic recently admitted that his palate changed when he scored a wine 91 points. He said he would have rated it at 89 if he tasted it 18 months earlier. C’mon, what math teacher has ever said, “The answer for this problem is 42 but last week it was 18”?  

 So next time you’re in a situation where someone is telling you what you should obviously taste in a wine, think “obvious to whom?” Then see if you denote a nuance of those little plastic army men. Like Cliffy, you’d be correct. Below is this week’s recommendation.   

 Cline 2008, Cashmere ($15.99): This wine is very smooth. No hints of forest floor but I do get a very unique mix of burnt marshmallow on the nose and graham crackers on the palate. Remember, that doesn’t mean you should too.

The Great White Wine Migration

I can tell it’s spring again because the white wines are returning. One by one they show up, back again from whatever home they make for the winter, and settle into their summer grounds on porches and at picnics. As more and more arrive they begin to drive out the reds. With the warmer temps and longer days I start to spot the first Pinot Grigios here and there shortly after the snow is gone. Then, a few weeks after the last wind-chill advisories, the first Chenin Blancs appear. A friend of mine recently told me he spotted a Rose’ downtown someplace but that may just have been a fluke; one rogue glass that arrived too early and way ahead of the others. Or maybe my friend got it confused with a cranberry juice; the two have a very similar appearance.

The last to arrive are usually the Sauvignon Blancs. To attract them, try putting some goat cheese or feta on a small serving plate outside on a picnic table on a warm, sunny day. Last week my wife and I were excited to find a nesting pair in our refrigerator door so we expect to see a lot more of them this summer. Rieslings are attracted to almost anything but it’s still fun to see them show up. Chardonnay is one white that stays throughout the entire winter. To attract Chardonnay put out some Brie. I still have not spotted the more elusive Viognier or Gewurztraminer. I typically see them arrive with the summer salads, gathering around light fish and spicy Asian foods.

Although it varies greatly, around our household the whites stay in larger numbers through the summer months until the colder temperatures bring the reds back again. Following the great white migration is a great way to learn more about the variety and diversity represented within the world of wine. 

Below are a few whites that are easily spotted at local picnics and back porches on warmer weekend days.

Hermann J. Wiemer 2006, Dry Riesling ($17.99): This variety of white is easily identified by its lemon-lime mid palate. A complex specimen, it also has a unique eucalyptus element on its finish.

Kim Crawford 2009, Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc ($15.99): This white was introduced from New Zealand but large populations are doing very well competing against their relatives from California. Its grassy nose makes it easy to distinguish from other Sauvignon Blancs.

Wine With Screw-Caps: The Verdict

Some things have a bad reputation, and deservedly so. For example, you wouldn’t expect to go too far on a Ukrainian motorcycle. When at the bookstore, you don’t see magazine racks filled with editions covering British cuisine. In Vegas nobody’s lining up to place a large bet on Detroit to win the Super Bowl next season. It’s not that any one of these examples couldn’t turn out well; it’s just that their reputations keep us from reaching into our wallets and giving them a vote of confidence with a few of our hard-earned dollars.

 There are times, however, when reputations are undeserved. For instance sometimes a slider from White Castle hits the spot far better than any food from a five star restaurant. Sometimes Pitbulls are wimpy, meek little lambs. Sometimes Toyotas don’t accelerate wildly into that obstacle in front of them. Lord help me for writing this, but sometimes I’ve even tapped my foot pleasantly to a Miley Cyrus song.  

 Screw-caps on wine bottles are another perfect example. For years only low-end swill was bottled with a screw-cap and it became a classic case of guilt by association. Over time, though, more and more wineries use screw-caps on higher-end wines. Not only are the caps more cost- efficient bottle closures for wineries to use, they also eliminate the estimated 2-3 percent of wasted wine due to bad corks.  Ruling out a wine simply because it has a screw-cap closes the door on many well-made, high-quality wines.

 So next time you’re watching that Tom Green movie on your Kazakhstani DVD player while eating pizza from Iceland, try one of these screw-cap wines. You won’t be disappointed. At least not with the wine.

 Pine Ridge 2008, Chenin Blanc/Viognier ($13.99): Take half a grapefruit, sprinkle it with fresh-cut summer grass, pour some cream on it, and drop it into a can of pears. The aroma of this wine is exactly that.     

 Trentatude 2006, Old Patch Red ($12.99): A blend of five varietals, this wine is packed with flavors of ripe blackberries. Drinking this wine reminds me of listening to one of those eclectic college radio stations. Just when the fruit is getting too soft like a triple play of Air Supply, Green Day shows up in the form of strong, solid tannins to keep everything in check and give it some backbone.     

Blue Chip Wines for the Special Occasion

You’re ready to pull out your wallet and shatter the lid on what you typically spend for a bottle of wine. You’ve picked the special occasion worthy of breaking the bank and you love the idea of finally experiencing a world-class bottle. But for all the promise, for all the hype, and for all the anticipation, you just can’t pull the trigger on the purchase because you fear the Greasy Grosshauser Effect. The Greasy Grosshauser Effect happens when something falls way short of its huge expectations. (For one example of the GGE, Google “Herschel Walker trade”). The name stems from a kid in my elementary school: Greasy wore his dad’s clothes by the age of eleven and could remove lug nuts from cars with his bare hands. His older brothers and sisters each held a state record or two in various sports.

The problem with Greasy was that for all his athletic potential, he had the coordination of a giraffe in a potato sack race and the killer instinct of a sponge on Quaaludes. In addition, after half a lap around the track, Greasy was easily distracted by pretty butterflies. Coaches and teammates could only shake their heads.

Expensive wines can burn you with the GGE too. Nothing is more frustrating than dropping a huge bundle of cash on a bottle of wine only to have it leave you shaking your head like you just watched it miss a layup. Although some brands have a stellar reputation and history, none are immune to making a bad bottle on occasion. For that reason I have compiled a short list of high-end, special occasion wines that leave me feeling like a winner and are worthy of their high-end price.

Rombauer 2007, Chardonnay ($32.99): The creaminess in this wine creates a perfect pairing with Brie cheese. Just try to calculate the points you would earn by having them waiting for your husband/wife after work.         

Domaine Serene 2005, Evenstad Pinot Noir ($59.99): Sour cherries, wet earth and cigar box linger throughout a long finish. Wet earth? Yes, in this wine it’s delicious.        

Continuum 2005, Cabernet Sauvignon ($125.99): After the Robert Mondavi brand was bought out by a huge conglomerate, the family now runs the Continuum Winery. Balance is the key word here. Cherries, red fruit, cola, and oak are delivered on a silk plate. A big investment, yes, but still not as much as popcorn and candy for the kids at the theater.

Tasting Wine Smackdown Style

When I took the Pepsi challenge I discovered one cola, Pepsi, tasted bigger and fresher than the others. By comparison, Coke seemed weak and thin. I needed to experience both of them right next to each other to really taste the difference. It was the same with Hostess Ho Hos and their leading competitor, Little Debbie Swiss Rolls. When comparing them at the same table, in the name of science, I discovered Ho Hos to be moist, rich, and aromatic. By comparison, the Swiss Rolls, tasted like waxy sawdust, only not as delicious. The point is, I drank Coke and ate Swiss Rolls for years without knowing they weren’t my first choice. It required a side-by-side, head-to-head smackdown to really learn how one compared to the other. It went on from there. I began testing other things next to each other and can now tell you exactly why I prefer Vietnamese cinnamon to Ceylon cinnamon, Columbian coffee over Ethiopian, and don’t even get me started on why I prefer the AMC Gremlin to the Dodge Aspen.

Tasting two wines next to each other in the same way is a great way to learn what you like in a wine and why. Pop the cork on two different bottles and pour a glass of each. Start with two different grape varietals. Notice the differences in their aromas. Do they feel different on your tongue? Do the flavors of one wine stay with you longer than the flavors of the other? Push the cork back in and try them again the following day. They’ll last for a day or two. Have they changed after breathing for a day? For a tighter competition, try two wines of the same grape varietal next to each other.

Performing tests like this accelerates your wine knowledge quickly. Below are two good side by side tests to give you an idea of where your tastes lie with both reds and whites.

Oyster Bay 2008, Sauvignon Blanc ($11.99) vs. J. Lohr 2008, Chardonnay ($12.99): One of these is fresh, crisp, and loaded with citrus, while the other is rich, creamy, and loaded with butter.

Mark West 2008, Pinot Noir (13.49) vs. Ave 2007, Malbec ($12.99): Again, these wines stand on opposite sides of the isle when it comes to flavor profiles and body weight. One is driven by fruit and has a lighter body while the other sports bigger flavors of oak, cedar, and tobacco.