LL no longer eats lamb or veal, so when she is traveling, on one night I’ll often buy lamb or veal chops and sit down with a phalanx of red wines to try with some of my favorite meats. She was out of town recently, so I got three small but thick loin lamb chops, sauteed them simply with rosemary, salt and pepper in a dab of olive oil (in the good old iron skillet), roasted a couple of potatoes and dutifully steamed a handful of green beans, which I actually ate, I promise.

Looking through the wine shelves and boxes at home, I grabbed six bottles, not really thinking about place or origin; I just wanted predominantly cabernet sauvignon wines. Turns out that two were from the Columbia Valley in Washington State, one from Australia’s Padthaway region and three were from the Napa Valley. Or without thinking about prices, which turned out to range from fairly expensive to outright expensive. On the other hand, the wines were excellent. While with one exception the alcohol levels were all above 14 percent (and what’s not nowadays), the wines were balanced and integrated, with none of the flamboyant toasty oak or excessive ripeness that render so many contemporary red wines questionable.

What is it about lamb and cabernet/merlot-based wines that makes them so amenable, so fated, as it were, to a marriage made in culinary heaven? Lamb is fatty, ripe itself in the way that good fresh meat can be ripe, a little earthy and gamy (it’s “wilder” than beef or pork) and, in the way that great beef has, it possesses a mineral quality that the heat of the flame brings out. Wines composed solely or mainly of cabernet sauvignon or merlot offer, in their own vinous ways, very similar qualities: the richness and ripeness, the “fat,” the mineral elements. Sometimes I like pinot noir with lamb, but most of the time, give me cabernet or merlot.

These wines are mentioned in the order of tasting.

*The blend of the Matthews Cellars Claret 2004, Columbia Valley, is 55% cabernet sauvignon, 22% merlot, 18% cabernet franc, 4% malbec and 1% syrah. The color is dusky ruby-purple; the bouquet wafts a seductive strain of lavender and licorice, ripe, fleshy, meaty and dusty black currant and black raspberry. The wine is dense and chewy, smooth and mellow, packed with smoke and spice and minerals; after a few minutes in the glass, it opens earthy layers of underbrush and forest floor, polished oak and fairly gritty tannins. It’s a lovely red wine, accessible and delicious yet capable of aging through 2014 or ‘15. Excellent. About $32.

*Notice how the combination of grapes on the Matthews Red Wine 2003, Columbia Valley, is similar to the blend of the previous wine but without the malbec and syrah; this is 53% cabernet sauvignon, 26% cabernet franc and 21% merlot. The first impression is of an incredible and heady smoldering heap of bitter chocolate, mint and eucalyptus, cedar and smoke, potpourri, lavender and sandalwood. Then the fruit comes up in a welter of macerated and roasted black currants, black cherries and plums. It’s a high-strung wine, taut with acid, energized by minerals, but still dense and cushiony, lavish with firm oak and grainy tannins that gain power and substance as moments pass. Try from 2009 through 2012 to ‘15. 823 cases. Excellent. About $60.

*Made from 100% cabernet grapes, Henry’s Drive Cabernet Sauvignon 2005, Padthaway, delivers the towering heft and darkness of a softly cloaked monument. This is a wine of piercing purity and intensity, huge and vibrant, deeply imbued with dusty oak and grainy tannins and seething with earthy, mossy, forest floor qualities and a resonant mineral element that lends the wine tremendous dynamism. Fruit falls into the realm of rich, ripe and fleshy black currants and black raspberries with touches of mint and eucalyptus and toasted Asian spices channeling licorice and lavender. For all its size and complexity, the wine is beautifully balanced and integrated. Try now, served with barbecue brisket or chili-rubbed pork chops and such fare, from 2010 to 2015 or ‘16. Case production was 1,150. Excellent. About $37. Great stuff.
The wines of Henry’s Drive Vignerons, which include Henry’s Drive, Parson’s Flat, Pillar Box and Dead Letter Office, are imported by Quintessential, Napa, California.

*Merryvale Vineyards no longer offers a “reserve” designation, under which this wine would previously have fallen. The level is now the “Signature Tier,” though that term does not occur on the label. In any case, the Signature Tier wines find a niche between the less expensive “Starmont” line and the top-of-the-line Profile and Silhouette.
The Merryvale Cabernet Sauvignon 2005 is composed largely of grapes that would have gone into the Profile, had Profile been made in 2005. Produced from 100 percent cabernet sauvignon grapes and aged 18 months in French oak, 32% new barrels, this feels like classic Napa Valley cabernet. It’s deep, rich and lush, dark as the night that covers us from pole to pole, a serious, intense and concentrated wine. The bouquet is woven from walnut shell and wheatmeal, mocha, cedar and tobacco and — give it a few minutes — aromas of tightly wound black currant and black cherry. The wine is huge in the mouth, notably tannic , earthy and minerally, bursting with spice, and yet for its size, it delivers a remarkable degree of finesee; it’s almost light on its feet. Of this group of wines, it’s the one that cried “Rib-eye steak, please, hot and crusty from the grill!” Drink 2010 through 2015 or ‘16. Excellent. About $50.

*My first note on the Bourassa Vineyards Symphony3 Proprietors Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon 2004, Napa Valley, is “Wow, what a mouthful of wine.” This producer believes in strenuous oak treatment, as in three years in French barrels (no indication as to the proportion of new to used), yet the wine is immaculately bright, vivid and vibrant, deliciously smooth and mellow. Notes of ripe, meaty and fleshy black currants, black raspberries and cherries teem in the glass, well-laced with smoke, spice and potpourri. Earthy, minerally tannins feel finely milled, as if they had been ground between giant rollers of iron-flecked velvet, while oak is powerful and polished and a tad debonair. This is, in other words, a wine of lively contrasts and happy resolutions. Best from about 2010 to 2015 to ‘18. Cases produced: 500. Excellent. About $60.

*Three years in French oak is also the regimen for the Bourassa Harmony3 Red Wine 2003, Napa Valley. The blend is 56% cabernet sauvignon, 23% malbec and 21% cabernet franc; the alcohol level is a mild-mannered 13.5 percent. What an absolutely lovely, vigorous, palate-pleasing red wine, pure pleasure! It offers wonderful balance and integration, great breeding and character, classic equilibrium of power and elegance, each element essential and inevitable. Yes, it does get pretty smacky, minerally and foresty on the finish, just as it should. I won’t say that I would choose this wine over the others on this page, because they’re all tremendously enticing, filled with depth and detail, yet this one seems special. Cases production: 450. Excellent. About $48.

The weather has been quite balmy, so we’ve been sitting out on the screened porch a lot, gazing at the backyard, watching the dogs gambol about, enjoying the paeans of birdsong and, after it gets dark, the thrumming of the tree-frogs. Until it gets unbearably hot, sometime in June, we’ll eat dinner out here.

Under the influence of such bucolic strains, what could I do at twilight this past Sunday but open a bottle of rosé, the first so far this year. This was the Forest Glen Magenta Rosé 2007, California, a well-known label from Fred Franzia’s Bronco Wine Co. The wine is made from syrah grapes.

The color is indeed a brilliant ruby-magenta-dark melon hue, with a slight blue cast at the center. It’s simple and tasty stuff, very strawberryish, with hints of cherry-berry, orange rind, candied melon and that ineffable element of Bazooka Bubble Gum. It’s zesty, a little sweet — more like soft ripeness than sweetness — and it finishes in classic style with touches of dried herbs and wet stones.

A great rosé? No, but a decent, satisfying rosé, yes, and we were happy to quaff it on our porch, while nibbling on flatbread, manchego cheese and almonds. I rate the wine Very good. And at about $8, it’s Good Value.

The label of the Clayhouse Vineyard Adobe Red 2006, Central Coast, tells us that the wine is intended for “that rebellious, hedonistic red wine lover inside of you.” Well, yeah, I guess that’s me all over, always the rebel, though while I don’t detect anything exactly rebellious about the wine, it is absolutely drinkable and delicious. You wouldn’t find a blend of grapes like this anywhere in the world except in California — 58% zinfandel, 17% syrah, 13% petite sirah and 12% malbec; the inspiration seems to be half southern Rhone Valley, half southern Golden State.

Smooth and drinkable, indeed, but with spice and sass, the wine features pungent aromas of ripe and intense black currant and black raspberry with wild plum, all permeated by smoke, tar, bitter chocolate and cloves. These qualities segue seamlessly into the mouth, where are added hints of cranberry and rhubarb, black tea, cedar and black olive. Tannins provide a firm structure, burgeoning on the finish with notes of moss, bark and underbrush. Now through 2010 or ‘11 should do the trick. I rate the wine Very Good+. At about $15, it ranks as a Good Value.

We drank this with pizza made at home for Movie Night. Toppings on the pizza were chorizo sausage, fresh tomatoes, chopped green pepper and radicchio with a few slices of roasted red pepper, a scattering of thyme, rosemary and oregano, and then mozzarella and Parmesan cheeses. Movie Night was disappointing. We were watching In the Valley of Elah, which was quite engrossing, when at minute 57 the DVD began stuttering and pausing and simply would not proceed. Very annoying. It goes back to Netflix for a replacement tomorrow.

The label shown here is for the version of the Adobe Red 2005, from Paso Robles; can’t wineries keep their websites up to date? Come on, it’s all about my needs.

Visit clayhousewines.com.

Randall Grahm, founder, owner and winemaker of Bonny Doon Vineyard, likes to stay ahead of the curve. He was one of the first winemakers in California to take up seriously the principles of biodynamic farming, in 2003. He now finishes all of his products, not just the inexpensive ones, with screw-caps. He actually sold part of his brands and vineyards in June 2006 so he could focus on the biodynamic Ca’ del Solo vineyard, reducing his production from 425,000 cases to 35,000.

The latest innovation from this dedicated, outspoken and sometimes eccentric producer can be found on the back labels on two recently released white wines from vintage 2007: a list of ingredients. That’s right, beginning with the whites from 2007 and the reds from 2006, all wines from Bonny Doon will indicate the ingredients therein. The wines so marked presently are the Bonny Doon Ca’ del Solo Vineyard Albarino 2007 (about $20) and the Ca’ del Solo Muscat 2007 (about $17), both from Monterey County, and both lovely, artfully-made wines, floral- and mineral-laced, swooning with soft, macerated citrus and stone-fruit flavors. The Muscat offers a touch of sweetness.

The principal ingredient in wine — at the risk of creating a “Big Duh” moment — is grapes. Well, one might think, there it is.

Grahm, however, in the interests of disclosure and consumer awareness and as a move toward “internal discipline,” includes on the ingredients list sulfur dioxide, indigenous yeast and organic yeast hulls, bentonite and cream of tartar (potassium bitartrate).

Now we already now that wine producers use tiny amounts of sulfur dioxide in white wines to prevent oxidation and bacterial growth. The federal government requires on every bottle of wine sold in the United States the words “Contains Sulfites,” because a small (or minuscule) portion of the population is allergic to sulfur. Yeast, well that’s a given, but is yeast actually an ingredient? Isn’t that rather like listing “heat” as an ingredient on loaves of bread? I mean, the point of fermentation is that yeast turns the grape sugars into alcohol (and carbon dioxide) and in the process largely disappears. The amount of alcohol in a wine is also mandated by federal law to be enumerated on labels (of all alcoholic beverages). Any yeast cells left in the wine would be removed by a light filtering.

Even more curious is the inclusion of bentonite, a clay, used to stabilize white and rose wines and remove proteins, and cream of tartar, used to remove tartrate crystals from wine. Racking wines and subtly filtering them remove the bentonite and the cream of tartar and the crystals from the finished wine, so none of these materials are left. So, they’re not ingredients, are they? The word “ingredient” derives from the present participle of the Latin ingredi, “to enter,” but after the bentonite and cream of tartare enter the wine, they, well, you know, they exit.

I don’t mean to make merry at the expense of Bonny Doon and Randall Grahm — well, I do a little — but what the labels on these wines really indicate aren’t ingredients but techniques, and not innovative techniques but long-established traditions in wine-making; historically, winemakers have used all sorts of natural substances, including egg whites and isinglass, to clarify wines. Grahm says in a Bonny Doon press release: “We hope other winemakers will be encouraged to also adopt less interventionist practices and rely less upon an alphabet soup of additives to ‘improve’ their wines.”

Bentonite and cream of tartar, however, aren’t “additives” and they’re not “interventionist”; they are purely natural elements that do their simple work and disappear from or are eliminated from the finished wine. Read the ingredients list on a package of Twinkies; there are some additives, and they’re all right there in the Twinkie. There are plenty of contemporary interventionist methods in winemaking to get hot and bothered about — micro-oxygenation, reverse osmosis, oak powder and so on — but dropping a handful of cream of tartar into a tank of white wine is not one of them.

No, of course, Grahm knows that bentonite is not an additive and what he’s really after is for winemakers to join in employing the most basic and natural methods in winemaking, but I think on these issues consumers need either a bit more or even a tad less information.

On the other hand — and there’s always an other hand — Grahm, while typically a fanatic (if not a fun-loving fantasist), is working today at an extraordinarily high level of purity and intensity in his wines. I am and will remain a complete skeptic about the efficacy or the necessity of the extreme forms of biodynamic farming methods, but I’ll put those caveats out of my mind while sipping Bonny Doon’s Albarino 2007, a supremely seductive (yet spare and slightly austere) wine that I rate Excellent and my favorite of this pair.

The strange objects on these labels, which look like condoms wearing little fur coats, depict the “sensitive crysallization” of the individual wines. The press materials don’t reveal how these “sensitive crystallizations” occur, but when Grahm writes, of the Muscat 2007, “well-defined vacuoles reflect the powerful aromatic potential” and “finely textured crystals reach out to the end of the periphery reflecting the vine’s connection to the soil,” I cannot help thinking that “sensitive crystallization” is a synonym for “smoke and mirrors.”

Visit bonnydoonvineyard.com.

You read that right.

KoeppelOnWine.com, which I launched on Dec. 12, 2004, is going inactive. The demands of constantly keeping reviews and commentaries going in six categories on that website plus keeping an ongoing stream of chatter, commentary, rudeness and reviews going on this blog, BiggerThanYourHead (as well as attending to a real full-time job at the newspaper), has for many months been producing pressure, stress, guilt and a tendency toward voluminous martini consumption.

I started KoeppelOnWine with high hopes, as if anyone inaugurates a project with low hopes, but despite the brilliant design (by Lucas Bond and Katherine Carr in Denver: bondcarr.com & boardpusher.com) and my efforts, readership never took off. And the site’s small subscription component never attracted many subscribers, though the few I had were very loyal, and I thank you for that, and I’ll be pro-rating your membership fees. On the other hand, PayPal, through some technical glitch, was bad about not letting people renew their memberships.

At this point, and for the past few months, hits on KoeppelOnWine have averaged about 1,100 a month; hits on BTYH average about 21,000 a month. (No, it ain’t YouTube.) It doesn’t take my high school math teacher, Miss Bridger — could she have had a first name? we didn’t think so — to figure out where my attention should focus. Since considering the demise of KoeppelOnWine, I have consulted with friends, relatives and colleagues, with marketing and PR people, asking their advice, and the answer has consistently been the same: “Go with the numbers.” So that’s what I’m going to do.

I’ll be moving the “Wine of the Week” from KoeppelOnWine to BTYH. I’ll be doing more reviews and commentary on the blog, offering more information and opinion (perhaps even wisdom) about wine and spirits, eating and drinking.

Regrets? Hell, yeah. KoeppelOnWine was a great site, a beautiful site, and it made me proud and happy every time I looked at it, but we have to grow and adapt and embrace change, right, at least that’s what everybody says.

Ruth, that’s what is was. Miss Bridger’s first name was Ruth.

This post is not exactly about strict “regular” and “reserve” wines but about three wines made from the same three grapes at decidedly different levels of achievement.

Depending on the wine and the region, Italy’s wine regulations sometimes favor 100 percent varietal wines for reds — sangiovese for Brunello di Montalcino, for example, and nebbiolo for Barolo — or permit blending, as in Chianti Classico, where a minimum of 75 percent sangiovese may be supplemented with the traditional red canaiolo grape, the nontraditional cabernet sauvignon, merlot and syrah, and two percent white grapes.

Another Italian red wine made from a combination of grapes is Amarone, a rare — it should be more rare — wine produced, in the Veneto region of northeastern Italy, from grapes that are dried in special boxes in temperature- and humidity-controlled chambers. (The grapes are no longer dried on straw or wicker pallets.) The drying process deepens the color, the flavor and the tannins of the wine; pressing the grapes and fermentation, which usually occurs in January after the harvest, takes longer than with typical grapes and wines. A great Amarone offers tremendous depth and body and intensity.

Traditionally, the grapes permitted in Amarone are (mainly) corvino, rondinella and (the least amount) molinara, though after 2005 the blend was required to be up to 80 percent corvino and corvinone with rondinella anywhere from 5 to 30 percent. Interestingly, the same grapes go into the usually simple and direct Valpolicella as go into Amarone, the difference being the site of the better vineyards in more amenable areas, meaning not on the plains.

So, today we’re looking at three wines from Sartori di Verona, a producer that frankly does not achieve the apotheosis of these wines — we’re not talking about Allegrini or Quintarelli — but that nonetheless makes wines that are thoroughly authentic and enjoyable; Sartori’s single-vineyard Corte Bra’ Amarone attains pretty high levels of quality. Prices for all three of these wines are very attractive.

To begin at the basic station, the Sartori Vigneti di Montegradella Valpolicella Classico Superiore 2004 — 50% corvina, 40% rondinella, 10% molinara — teems with notes of black currants and plums, potpourri and tar; it’s dense and chewy in the mouth, bursting with rollicking spice and vibrant acid, ripe and intense black fruit flavors permeated by black tea, orange zest and dried herbs. The wine ages 15 months in Slavonian oak casks, so the structure is firm without being sodden with woody elements. A terrific wine to drink with hearty red sauce pasta dishes, beef and game. I rate it Very good, and at about $13, it’s a Great Bargain. 1,064 cases imported.

The Sartori Amarone della Valpolicella 2003, which ages two-and-a-half-years in Slavonian oak casks, is deep, rich and spicy, dense and earthy and minerally, packed with spice and black currant and plum flavors with a touch of bitter chocolate and dried flowers. The flavors are ripe and roasted, a little raisiny; vivid acid cuts a swath across the palate for an invigorating effect. The wine is, it goes without saying, quite dry, almost formidably so, and the finish is long, spicy, substantial and austere. Drink now with robust fare or wait until 2009 or ‘10 to 2012 to ‘15. I rate this Very good+. About $34.

The single-vineyard Sartori Amarone della Valpolicella Classico Corte Bra’ 2001 — a great year in northern Italy — is almost port-like in its intensity, vibrancy and smoky, spicy character, though it’s not sweet, only super-ripe and dimensional. Black currant jam and plum marmalade flavors are infused with cinnamon and cloves, sandalwood and orange rind, lavender and licorice. The blend here is slightly different, with 60% corvina, 30% rondinella and the same 10% molinara. The wine ages a staggering four years in Slovenian oak casks and another year in small French barrels, yet the result is not a wine that’s over-oaked and woody but one that has absorbed that wood and remained firm and structured, powerful and dynamic. Start to drink this in 2010 and keep at it through 2015 or ‘18. Cases produced: 2,500. I rate this Excellent. About $41.

These wines are imported by Banfi Vintners, Old Brookville, N.Y. Visit banfi.com.

… but really, wine tends to take a truck or a ship.

A story in The New York Times Business Day section yesterday (Saturday, April 26), headlined “Some Carbon With Your Kiwi?” discusses the carbon-imprint of transporting food-stuffs around the world in an era in which Americans and Europeans consume fruit and vegetables from a variety of far-flung countries; thus, the notion of seasonality becomes obsolete and the carbon footprint expands.

For a chart depicting a comparison of carbon dioxide emissions, the story uses a bottle of wine shipped to New York from the Loire Valley in France and a bottle shipped to New York from the Napa Valley in California. Guess which shipment produces the larger carbon footprint?

That’s right, the bottle of wine send to New York from California produces more carbon dioxide.

Here’s the comparison:

At the cultivation level, there’s little difference, 210 grams of carbon dioxide per bottle in the Loire Valley, 214 in the Napa Valley; this involved the energy used in managing the vineyard. The fermentation process, which naturally results in carbon dioxide, is the same for both regions: 109 grams of carbon dioxide per bottle. Also the same is the amount of carbon dioxide produced by the operation of the winery in energy: 132 grams each. In the “Containers” category, however, the Napa Valley pulls ahead, mainly because the barrels that most wineries use to age their wines have to be transported from France; the comparison is Loire Valley 473, Napa Valley 633.

The biggest discrepancy, though, lies in transportation. Shipping one bottle of wine from California to New York produces 1,426 grams of carbon dioxide, because the wine is transported by truck. Sending a bottle of wine from the Loire Valley, on the other hand, produces only 447 grams of carbon dioxide, because most of the transportation occurs on a container ship.

The total is 1,371 grams of carbon dioxide to ship a bottle of wine from the Loire Valley to New York, 2,514 grams to send a bottle of wine from California to New York, almost twice as much.

Obviously New Yorkers who are thinking green ought to drink French wine, or European wine generally, and avoid wine from the West Coast. Californians should eschew French wines, not out of patriotism but because those wines have to be shipped from the East Coast by truck. Of course if New Yorkers really want to be green, they would drink the wines of their own state, a possibility that just about everybody in New York finds incomprehensible. You’ll find New York state wines on the lists of restaurants in New York City as often as you might find wines from Ukraine. Part of that problem, aside from snobbery and provincialism, is that the wines of New York state, particularly from the premium wineries on Long Island, which make very good wine indeed, tend to be more expensive than their counterparts from the West Coast, even factoring in the shipping expense.

As for those of us in the great heartland of the United States of America, we’ll just have to pay the price for the diminished dollar and the costs of transportation and the carbon footprints left all over the landscape by bottles of wine and the dismal future of humankind. Not to mention the tomatoes shipped by truck from Mexico.

Images courtesy of kenstrailersandtires.com and paradise.caltech.edu.

Reading about gewurztraminer wines doesn’t prepare you for their utter freshness and exuberance, their titillating rose petal-lychee-lime-grapefruit character, the scintillating, crystalline acid, the startling bitterness of the finish. At least I wasn’t really prepared for those qualities, all of which I had dutifully read about, when I tried my first example, this Clos du Bois Early Harvest Gewurztraminer 1979, from Sonoma County’s Alexander Valley. Of course what I had mainly been reading about were the classic models from Alsace, but I couldn’t find any of those.

We drank this on May 24 and 25, 1983, so the wine was already three-and-a-half years old, but it was completely fresh and vigorous, “fragrant, flowery, a little spicy, refreshing” (quoting from these 25-year-old notes). It went down easily with lunch: grilled sausages, tomato aspic, deviled eggs and cold broccoli with homemade mayonnaise. Notice the price: $7.84.

A few weeks later, around June 17-19, we tried another gewurztraminer with the first part of Father’s Day dinner, the Mirassou Harvest Reserve Gewurztraminer 1981, Monterey County. “Selected for a Limited Bottling” runs the legend on the white banner at the top of the label. This was ripe and robust, full-bodied and full-flavored, “well-balanced with a good finish … but not as spicy as the Clos du Bois,” which seemed, on the other hand, more delicate and fine-boned. Some of this wine accompanied a sherry-pea soup followed by filet of flounder with hollandaise sauce. Note the price: $6.89.

Other wines we tried between the last entry in this chronicle (the Grgich Hills Johannisberg Riesling 1979, Napa Valley) and the Mirassou Harvest Reserve Gewurztraminer 1981:

Cuvee Saint Andre Coteaux du Tricastin 1979 ($4.59)
Folonari Valpolicella NV(?) ($3.50)
Chateau La Cardonne 1978, Medoc (7.95)
Chateau Guiraud-Cheval Blanc 1978, Cotes de Bourg ($5.37)
J. Pedroncelli Chenin Blanc 1981, Sonoma County ($5.49)
Nicolas Croze-Hermitage 1977 ($4.58)
Domaine des Sauvignons 1981, Cotes de Blaye ($4.49)
Chateau Malijay Cotes du Rhones 1979 ($4.14)
J. Pedroncelli Gewurztraminer 1981, Sonoma County ($5.99)

I don’t know what the weather is like in your neck o’ the woods, but here in what’s called the Mid-South, the corner where Tennessee, Mississippi and Arkansas touch — well Tennessee and Arkansas don’t touch because this big-ass river flows between —
the weather is absolutely gorgeous (after inordinate rain), and I wish it would never get hotter, as vain a wish as humankind ever made, because by July here it will be insufferable.

Anyway, since the clime is mild and pleasant and enjoyable, I offer six white wines, ranging from about $9 to about $20, that will serve you well in this transitional season.

Let’s start with Twin Vines Vinho Verde 2007, from the sprawling Vinho Verde (”green wine”) region of northern Portugal, which, oddly, lies to the north (mainly the north) and south of the Douro river and intrudes between the port vineyards and the coastal town of Oporto that is the center of the port trade. So, after that little geography lesson, this Vinho Verde ‘07, made by the Jose Maria da Fonseca winery, is exactly what you want in this wine; it’s notably clean and crisp, slightly effervescent, light, delicate and refreshing in its lemon-lime, grapefruit and limestone elements with a hint of talc and gunpowder. Yeah, it sort of tickles the nose. The grape varieties are loureiro 42%, trajadura 39%, pederna 19%. A simple and charming aperitif. Good+. About $9. Palm Bay Imports, Boca Raton, Florida.

The Vino dei Fratelli Pinot Grigio delle Venezia 2006 is as good as many examples at twice the price. It’s quite dry and crisp, weaving a dominant lemon character with a hint of lemon balm, with cloves, almond and almond blossom and a bit of dried thyme and tarragon. The texture is attractively silky, almost powdery, yet the wine displays crackling acid for backbone and a tide of limestone on the finish. Very Good, and at about $9, a Great Bargain. Imported by Quintessential, Napa, California.

Here’s an unusual blend of white grapes. Pillar Box White 2006, produced by Henry’s Drive in the Padthaway region of South Australia, combines 66% chardonnay with 20% sauvignon blanc and 14% of the Spanish verdelho variety. The result is a wine that feels pale gold and green in every respect, in color, of course, but also (trying to perform a feat of synesthesia by translating color into smell) in its jasmine and honeysuckle scents accented by roasted lemon, lime peel, pink grapefruit and pear. It’s pretty heady stuff. A few minutes in the glass bring in notes of almond and almond blossom, yellow plum, damp stone. Incredibly crisp and deftly balanced, the acid chimes like a gong though the wine’s texture is dense, almost lush. This was terrific with grilled swordfish marinated with soy sauce, lime juice and zest, garlic and freshly grated ginger. Very good+, and at about $12, it’s another Great Bargain. Imported by Quintessential, Napa, California.

There’s a hint of coyness about the label of the Clayhouse Adobe White 2007, Central Coast. If you add up the percentages of the blend of grapes listed on the label — chenin blanc 34%, chardonnay 17%, roussanne 16%, viognier 11% — the keen-eyed among you will notice that the figures come only to 78 percent. The missing 22 percent is made of princess grapes, a variety not sanctioned as legal for making wine by the federal TTB (Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau). Will the grape ever be permitted on the roster of “real” wine grapes; one’s reaction could be, “Oh, who cares?” but the princess grape certainly lends this spare, almost elegant wine interesting touches of spice and fresh flowers, a sort of amalgam of cloves, roses and jasmine. The wine also offers orange blossom and pear, a hint of lush peach balanced by the slight astringency of grapefruit and a cool mineral element. A little sweetness comes across as juicy ripeness. The roussanne is given a little oak; the rest of the wine was made in stainless steel. This goes down almost too easily; LL and I drank the bottle standing in the kitchen, eating manchego cheese and flatbread while trying to decide what to have for dinner after one of those long days at work. Um, I’m not sure what we ever decided. Very Good. About $15.

I’m an unabashed fan of the X Winery ES Vineyard Sauvignon Blanc from Lake County. For 2007, the wine is tremendously clean, fresh and crisp, boldly spicy and flavorful without resorting to the brash vegetal and herbal excesses with which sauvignon blancs from New Zealand can sometimes assault us. Not that the X Winery ES Sauvignon Blanc 2007 doesn’t just jump from the glass with sprightly notes of pear and melon, lime peel and jasmine, hints of mango and grapefruit, and not that it doesn’t practically vibrate in the glass, it’s so ringingly resonant, but that vibrancy and resonance derive from the purity and intensity of the grape and its minimal treatment in stainless steel, its shimmery luster of minerality. Almost too exciting to use as an aperitif, this would be great with grilled shrimp or mussels or with trout served with lemon-butter and capers. Very good+ About $17.

I served the Hugel et fils Riesling “Hugel” 2005, Alsace, with a pick-up pasta of penne with roasted chicken, roasted red pepper, green olives and chopped kale. This venerable firm’s “Hugel” wines are not estate-produced but are made from purchased grapes derived from long-term contracts, and there’s not a thing wrong with that procedure. This riesling is very dry, crisp and clean, and its tasty lemon and lemon balm flavors, infused with lime and grapefruit, are bolstered with bastions of damp limestone and chalk. The wine is quite spicy, and it displays a hint of the grape’s requisite “petrol” character with touches of pear and, less distinctly, peach. Well-made and attractive. Very good+. About $19 or $20 is the usual price, though on the Internet I have seen a range from $16.50 to $22. Imported by Frederick Wildman & Sons, New York.

There’s a pretty funny story in The New York Times this morning, in the Business Day section, by writer Harry Hurt III, who attends a class at the New York Bartending School. The instructor, James Bumbery, is described as “tall and lean with round horn-rimmed spectacles and a dark green beret” who has “over a decade of hospitality industry experience.” Over a decade of hospitality industry experience! That’s a confidence booster! I think I would prefer to be instructed by a short guy named Guido who learned his craft in the brothels of Montevideo in the 1950s.

In any case, the article made me wonder what the criteria are for a great bartender, the kind of bartender who keeps you coming back to the same bar.

Of course a great bartender knows the recipes and techniques for preparing many cocktails and highballs, so a meticulous memory is essential, but the same quality applies to any bartender, whether great or ordinary. Any bartender should know the different glasses and garnishes appropriate for the range of cocktails and highballs; any bartender should know that cocktails with fruit juice are shaken, but cocktails without fruit juice are stirred (Are you listening?) No, there’s something more to a great bartender than merely the knowledge of the bright and gratifying panoply of cocktails and other intoxicating drinks. A chemist — or, dear god, a “mixologist” — can turn out a perfect Harvey Wallbanger.

The great bartender, on the other hand, must lightly balance a seemingly paradoxical set of qualities. He — or she, but I’ll get to this issue in a moment — must display tremendous speed and dexterity and power of focus while, at the same time, maintaining an effortless aura of congeniality and engagement that, on the other hand, must never seem too intimate, too confiding or cajoling. A bartender may be conversational, but he must never commit to a topic; a bartender may be sympathetic, but he must also be detached. The bartender is not your shrink, not your college room-mate. And in that sense, the customer must not ask too much of the bartender, must not entice the bartender to step across the line of service into the morass of servitude or, even worse, the skittish realm of Friendship.

The relationship between bartender and patron is cordial but formal; each party knows his duties and the pleasures that attend them. That’s what makes going to an excellent bar with a great bartender such a rewarding part of life.

I mentioned the issue of women bartenders. There’s no reason why women can’t be great bartenders except that most men, being congenital jerks, bounders and cads, won’t let them. Men react to and challenge women bartenders in ways that they don’t react to or challenge male bartenders, and that situation upsets what should be the comfortable dynamics of a bar. It’s rarely the fault of the female bartender; it’s usually the fault of the male patron who tries to impress her. Look, you’re not sitting in a bar to impress someone; you’re sitting in a bar to enjoy a drink, a contemplative moment, a conversation with friends. So no hitting on the bartender!

Guido wouldn’t put up with that shit for an instant.

Cartoon images from topshelfservices.com.