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.

Here’s the second installment in a series that examines the real or perceived differences between a winery’s “regular” bottling of a particular wine or grape and its “reserve” bottling. Actually, today we look at three offerings of chardonnay from two far-flung wineries: Rodney Strong Vineyards in Sonoma County and Pierre Morey in Burgundy. This essay does not mean to compare Rodney Strong and Pierre Morey, anymore than you could compare the geography and culture of California and Burgundy.

We expect that a reserve wine merits that designation — which is completely unregulated on local, state or federal levels — because the grapes come from a particularly well-regarded vineyard or section of a vineyard; that the wine may represent the best of the barrels that composed the final blend; or that the wine received special care in the winery; perhaps a combination of all three potential criteria is the case. We assume, for these reasons, that a reserve wine will cost more than a regular bottling, though it often seems that the cost isn’t justified.

Rodney Strong Vineyards produces three chardonnays: 1. the “regular” and widely available Sonoma County version, one of the most reliable chardonnays made in California in its price range, about $15; 2. the Chalk Hill Chardonnay, made from the estate vineyard originally planted by the winery’s founder, Rodney Strong, in 1965, another dependable wine that sells for about $20; and the Reserve rendition, a limited production wine that gets more oak treatment than its cousins, about $35.

*The Rodney Strong Chardonnay 2006, Sonoma County, is partially barrel-fermented (40 percent) and partially stainless steel fermented (60 percent); the 40 percent continues in French and American oak to age for nine months and goes through considerable (84 percent) malolactic conversion, a completely natural process that transforms crisp malic (”apple-like”) acid to lush lactic “(”milk-like”) acid. Sorry to throw all these percentages at you, but I want readers to see how careful handling in the winery can lend character to a basic, inexpensive wine. The result here is a chardonnay that nicely balances clean crispness and vibrancy with moderate lushness and richness for liveliness and a pleasing texture. Scents and flavors of green apple, pineapple and grapefruit are bolstered by hints of dried baking spices and chiseled minerality. You feel the oak a bit in the finish, as a flush of spicy wood. Drink now through 2009. Very Good+, and a Great Bargain. This should be a no-brainer on every restaurant’s wine-by-the-glass program. About $15.

*The difference between the previous wine and Rodney Strong’s Chalk Hill Estate Chardonnay 2005, Sonoma County, lies in the firmness of the body and texture and in a tone of unabashed resonance and vividness. Ninety-seven percent of the wine was fermented in French oak barrels (27 percent new) and went through the malolactic process. Despite what could have been heavy-handed treatment, the wine does not display the flaws that commonly result from so much oak and malolactic — candy-like flavors and over-creamy lushness; instead, this wine reveals admirable balance and integration and lovely suppleness in texture. To classic pineapple and grapefruit flavors, it adds touches of pear and orange rind and limestone; the bouquet opens to offer hints of jasmine and damp rocks, while the wine as a whole delivers notable purity and intensity. Drink now through 2009. Excellent. About $20, a Great Price.

*Back in September, I wrote on BTYH, “Oak should be like shoes of invisibility, transporting one miraculously but nowhere in evidence.” Opposed to that point of view are many winemakers in California who see grapes as raw material upon which to exercise their wills. I’m not saying that Rick Sayre, longtime winemaker for Rodney Strong and now vice president and director of winemaking, believes that necessarily, but he’s certainly an advocate of putting a wine through its paces, oak-wise. Over the years, I have criticized many wines from Rodney Strong, especially reds, for bearing too heavily the stamp of the oaken vision.

That assertion is prelude to the Rodney Strong Reserve Chardonnay 2005, Sonoma County, a wine that is 100 percent fermented in French oak, goes through complete malolactic and ages for 20 months in barrels. This is still a wine of tremendous brightness and vivacity, of vibrant fruit and stirring acidity and minerality, but you smell the oak and you taste the oak from beginning to end and if oak influence had color and voice, you would see it and hear it as well. I know that there are many experienced wine drinkers and reviewers who relish the smell and taste of oak in wine, but I don’t; I think that overt oak character, that presence of toasty oak, is an aberration.

My conclusion, then, is that this wine is not for me, though it possesses sterling qualities, and it qualifies as a reserve wine because it obviously receives singular attention in the winery. Still, I rate it Very Good+. Drink now through 2010 or ‘11. About $35.

For information about the winery, visit rodneystrong.com.

The situation is somewhat different with our three white Burgundy wines. First, as you will see, there are the prices. Second, the term “reserve” is seldom used in France, so what we are looking at here are a “village” wine, a village wine from a designated vineyard (lieu-dit, “named place”), and a Premier Cru wine, all three from Meursault. Unlike nearby (just to the south) Puligy-Montrachet and Chassagne-Montrachet, with which it forms a triumvirate of ultimate chardonnay-dom, Meursault possesses no Grand Cru vineyards, though its Premier Cru vineyards are justly famous. Pierre Morey is winemaker for the distinguished domaine of Olivier Leflaive. The Morey wines are biodynamically grown.

*To be a “village” wine in Burgundy, the grapes may come from anywhere in the named village, in this case Meursault, where vineyards are allowed; that is, they can’t just be grown in someone’s backyard. It happens, in lesser years, that producers will downgrade their Premier Cru wines to village level because the quality is not commensurate with the reputation of the vineyard and producer, but 2005 was a superb year. The grapes for the winsome Meursault 2005 from Pierre Morey derive from rows of vines in three parcels in Meursault owned by Pierre Morey and planted in 1986. Though the wine aged 18 months in oak barrels, it is completely unfettered by perceivable or palpable oak influence, which is relegated to the foundation and framing of the wine rather than contributing overtly to its nature.

The wine smells slightly waxy, with touches of lanolin and sweet white flowers. Flavors of roasted lemon, pineapple and grapefruit are permeated by smoke, limestone and chalk, clove and ginger. Balanced by the ripeness of its fruit and the liveliness of its acid, the wine is very dry, but not austere. The finish is long, stony and spicy. Drink now through 2010 or ‘12, well-stored. Lovely and irresistible as it is, however, it lacks true heft and balletic power, so I give it Very Good+. About — gack! — $75-$90. Yes friends the effect of the euro, the currency named for a whole continent — imagine if we called dollars “North Americans” — certainly makes itself known here. 300 cases imported.

*The Pierre Morey Meursault Les Tossons 2005 comes from a 2.2-acre village vineyard; the name means “the shards,” referring to the fragmented nature of the vineyard’s soil and rocks. The color is pale straw; the bouquet is an adorable weaving of roasted lemon, lemon balm and grapefruit, jasmine and limestone. In the mouth, the wine offers seductive depth and body, pulling you in with its buoyancy and lustrous powers, its flavors of spiced and macerated stone fruit; it’s boldly dense and chewy, almost powdery, an effect off-set by crackling acid and mineral elements. Drink now through 2011 or ‘13, well-stored. Excellent. 200 cases imported.

*Morey-Blanc is the name of Pierre Morey’s negociant side that makes wine from purchased grapes; Blanc is Pierre Morey’s wife’s name. Don’t turn you nose up; most of the important domaine winemakers in Burgundy also produce full lines of negociant wines, principally from long-term contracts with growers they trust. The Pierre Morey Meursault and Meursault Tossons are domaine wines, that is, the vineyards are owned by the company; our third wine is the Morey-Blanc Meursault Boucheres Premier Cru 2005, a negociant wine and an absolutely splendid example of what Meursault Premier Cru from a great year should be.

My first notes were “Wow. Lovely, perfect.” I suppose I could stop there, but I’ll add (anyway) that the wine is crystalline in its ringing acid and pure minerality, that its resonant and vibrant intensity completely imbues flavors of candied ginger, lemon-lime and grapefruit, pear and baked apple. A talc-like scent, a powdery texture and a hint of jasmine remind me of my mother’s dressing table, with its silver compacts and drawers lined with satin, though the finish is like strata of damp limestone and shale. The wine is, in a word, Exceptional, and lovers of white Burgundy or chardonnay in general are urged to buy a case, if they can find one, since only 70 cases were imported. Drink from now through 2012 to ‘15, well-stored. About $110. The importer for the Pierre Morey wines is Wilson Daniels, St. Helena, Cal.

Visit wilsondaniels.com or morey-meursault.fr.

What a relief to drink a nice, clean, fresh, crisp Saint-Véran after the California white wines I’ve been trying for the past week. I don’t mean just chardonnays, the dead horse that I flog relentlessly, because most white wines from California tend to be bigger, bolder and brighter than their European counterparts, and I’m talking about the examples that I like.

I was fortunate, for example, to taste more white Burgundies than usual last year, mainly from 2004 and 2005, and no matter how rich they were, no matter how deep and layered and textured, none of them was over-wrought, none of them was sodden with the excessive oak and tropical fruit and dessert-like flavors that make many chardonnays from California so cloying that they’re undrinkable. And those are the kinds of wines — at least some of them — that I tried last week, though there were also a few that were beautifully, impeccably made, by which I mean, naturally, that they displayed perfect balance among all elements: fruit, acid, oak; flavor, texture, structure. You can read reviews of 12 California white wines — ratings vary from Excellent to Avoid — here.

Anyway, as I was saying, after some of these hard-hitting white wines, it was almost thrilling to drink a bottle of the Domaine Perraud Saint-Véran Vieilles Vignes 2005 with a simple Italian chicken soup with pasta, spinach and Parmesan cheese and a beaten egg whipped into each bowl. I guess that qualifies as Italian egg-drop soup. The wine combined many elements of lemon — fresh lemon with touches of roasted lemon and lemon curd — along with a hint of jasmine, a touch of spice and loads of limestone that practically vibrated from the vigorous acid that kept the whole package taut and lively. I immediately want to take back the word “taut,” though, because that makes it sound as if the wine were not also dense and smooth and silky, which it certainly was, the point being that as with most enjoyable white wines the slight tug-of-war between crispness and density was exhilarating. This is the second bottle of the Perraud V.V. Saint-Veran ‘05 that we’ve had in three months, and both times it was delightful. North Berkeley Imports, Berkeley, Ca. I rate it Very Good+. About $18-$20.

Here are two more wines from Saint-Véran that I tried last night.

The Saint-Véran 2006 from the Cave de Prissé delivers a bouquet that you want to swim in or dab behind your ears. Apple, pear and lemon, lime peel, limestone and jasmine and a touch of smoke combine for a boundlessly appealing beginning for this wine. It’s crisp and lively and notably earthy and minerally, with roasted lemon and grapefruit flavors set into a bracing and austere limestone and shale structure. In the mouth, actually, this Saint-Véran doesn’t quite live up to the promise of its bouquet, but it’s still an attractive and tasty accompaniment to grilled fish and fresh seafood. William-Harrison Imports, Manassas, Va. Very Good. About $16.

The venerable house of Joseph Drouhin offers a Saint-Véran 2005 that’s unusually bright and lively, with lemon, lime and pear scents and flavors etched with beguiling notes of clove and ginger. The wine is very dry and crisp, quite earthy and minerally, and so pure and intense that it feels crystalline. The finish is stony, steely and austere. Imported by Dreyfus, Ashby & Co, New York. Very Good+. About $12.50-$16.

Saint-Véran, to touch on geographical matters, lies in the southernmost reaches of Burgundy, between Mâconnais and Beaujolais. Only the chardonnay grape is allowed. The wines are best consumed within one to three years of the vintage. Pouilly-Fuissé, which produces wines of greater character and longevity, is a separate appellation within Saint-Véran.

Sometimes it feels as if I have been condemned to a Circle of Hell, a mild circle certainly, compared to the more ingenious and punitive arrangements further down, but still one in which I am enjoined eternally to taste millions of Napa Valley cabernet sauvignon and chardonnay wines that all seem alike. The cabernets feature heaps of toasty new oak, super-ripe fruit, cushiony textures and alcohol levels of 14.5 to 15.2 percent; the chardonnays feature heaps of toasty new oak, super-ripe fruit, cushiony textures and alcohol levels of 14.5 to 15.2 percent. Such wines are professionally-made, well-intentioned and boring. Wait, this is no mythical Circle of Hell; this is my life!

Then there are the cabernets and chardonnays of Smith-Madrone Vineyards and Winery, perched atop Spring Mountain west of the town of St. Helena in the Napa Valley. Now when I say that Smith-Madrone makes wines that purists could love, I don’t mean snobs or elitists or geeks or nerds; by “purists” I mean consumers who favor wines that focus on fruit and structure, that allow us to taste and feel where the wine came from and where it’s going, what it’s make of and how it sustains itself. That is the kind of wine that Smith-Madrone makes.

The winery was founded by brothers Stuart and Charles Smith, who purchased 200 acres on Spring Mountain in 1971. The wines are made from the same vines planted 32 years ago, for the cabernet, and 34 years ago, for the chardonnay. The steep vineyards with their volcanic soil, lying at elevations from 1,600 to 1,800, are dry-farmed, that is, they are never irrigated, relying only on what rain falls according to nature.

I recently — I mean on Wednesday and Thursday — tried the Smith-Madrone Cabernet Sauvignon 2003 and the Smith-Madrone Chardonnay 2006, Spring Mountain District, both current releases. The winery also produces a well-regarded riesling, but the last vintage, the 2006, quickly sold out.

The Cabernet 2003 is a blend of 82 percent cabernet sauvignon, 10 percent merlot and 8 percent cabernet franc. This is a great, old-fashioned mountain-side cabernet, deep, rich and spicy, a construct of sinew and muscle and bone. Bright cassis and black cherry flavors are permeated by dusty, leathery tannins, briery, brambly elements and profound earthy and minerally qualities. The wine aged 22 months in American oak barrels, yet it didn’t come out of that process with any bitterness or austerity — American oak has to be used carefully — but absorbed that wood for a firm, supportive structure to which keen acid lends vibrancy. Despite its size and seriousness, however, the wine is a sensualist’s delight for its delicious black fruit (with a hint of cedar and wild berry), for its lacy etching of lavender and bittersweet chocolate, for its impeccable balance between elegance and power. You could drink a bottle tonight with a medium rare strip steak, hot and crusty from the grill, or let it age through 2013 to ‘15. The alcohol level, by the way, is only 13.8 percent. Production was 2,302 cases. I rate the wine Excellent. The suggested price is $40.

The Smith-Madrone Chardonnay 2006 is a model of purity and intensity. Though the wine was completely barrel-fermented and matured 11 months in French oak, the effect is so subtle that any wood influence is almost imperceptible; it’s more a matter of the oak serving as invisible framing for the wine instead of becoming a tangible or obtrusive factor, as is the case with so many Napa Valley chardonnays. The bouquet offers notes of pear, melon and pineapple with touches of grapefruit and peach, all of this packed with limestone and gunflint. There’s absolutely nothing tropical or dessert-like about this chardonnay; rather, it’s notably clean and fresh and resonant. As with the cabernet, you feel the structure, the muscles and bones of the wine, and yet, paradoxically, for all its substance, this chardonnay feels almost effortless in its crisp attack and moderately lush flowing through the mouth. The alcohol, a surprising 14.2 percent, is totally integrated. Production was 1,171 cases. Here’s another Excellent rating. Suggested price is about $28.

The annual portfolio tasting mounted by Martin Scott Wines of Lake Success, New York, is so vast that participants must limit themselves in some rational manner and mount an agenda-based attack or else wander aimlessly, trying wines here and there. Held on several levels of the lobby of the New York State Theater at Lincoln Center, the event offered almost 900 wines, of which I tasted, between noon and 5 p.m., Monday, about 120. Yes, that’s 24 wines per hour, one wine every two and a half minutes, and that’s counting taking time to chat with people and snatch cheese and bread from the snack tables and gulp it down.

I decided to limit myself mainly to pinot noir and chardonnay, because Martin Scott’s portfolio is rich in wines made from those noble grapes, being deep into Burgundy and small producers from California and Oregon. Most of these wines were from vintage 2005, a fine year for vineyard regions practically everywhere in the world, and, indeed, these wines did not disappoint. Interestingly, however, I found the examples from Burgundy bigger, more structured and more tannic, sometimes searingly so, than the models from California and Oregon; they also possess the potential for long aging and development, some perhaps not coming into their own until 2015 to 2018.

For example, I use phrases such as “Whoa, huge tannins!” or “Holy shit, staggering tannin” for wines like the Gevrey Chambertin 1er Cru “Les Corbeaux 2005 from Domaine Heresztyn (”like drinking the vineyard”), about $88; and the Nuits-Saint-Georges 1er Cru “Clos de la Marechale” 2005 from Domaine Jacques-Frederic Mugnier (”you can smell and taste the limestone”), about $80; and the Volnay 1er Cru “Les Chevrets” 2005 from Domaine Henri Boillot (”wonderful purity and intensity”), about $100. The point, though, is not that these wines, and others like them, are merely stout and tannic, but that they are deep and powerful and exhibit profound clarity and purpose. Some are more approachable now than others, of course, and I’ll get to those wines and the other Burgundies when I write out full reviews in a full days, either on this blog or over on KoeppelOnWine.

The California pinots that showed size and structure similar to their Burgundian counterparts for 2005 included the Ketcham Estate Pinot Noir 2005, Russian River Valley (”great but quite serious”), about $55; the Pisoni Vineyards and Winery Pinot Noir 2005, Santa Lucia Highlands (”what power!”); the Fiddlehead Cellars “Cuvee Seven Twenty Eight” Pinot Noir 2004 — note the year — Santa Rita Hills (”deep, intense, powerful”), about $43; and the Adrian Fog “Savoy Vineyard” Pinot Noir 2005, Anderson Valley (”spare, elegant, fills the glass, wow!”), about $83. No, friends, these are not cheap wines, mostly being made in limited quantities.

Generally, however, the pinots from California and Oregon conveyed a sense of earlier drinkability and younger balance and integration than the wines from Burgundy for 2005, and just for the record, let me add that among the loveliest, most elegant and classic Burgundian-style pinots I have encountered from California is the Inman Family Wines “Olivet Grange Vineyard” Pinot Noir 2005, Russian River Valley, about $45. Pinot noir lovers who value nuance and finesse over power and size should search for this wine relentlessly.

So, we’re leaving for La Guardia in a couple of hours, and we’ll we back in Memphis this evening. I just wanted to give readers a preview of what would be going on in my (our) world of wine for a while.

Jim Clendenen is undoubtedly a fine wine-maker, and he has made Au Bon Climat, founded in 1982 in Santa Barbara County, into a great source for powerful, eloquent and sometimes eccentric versions of chardonnay and pinot noir wines. Clendenen’s best work goes into small lots of vineyard-designated pinot noirs that have a way of satisfying and defying expectations simultaneously. In their rarity and cost and as bold expressions of a personal vision, they’re not for neophytes.

But I come today not to speak of such high-toned matters but to expound on Clendenen’s basic red wine, the Au Bon Climat Pinot Noir that carries a straight Santa Barbara County designation. The year in question is 2005. The price is generally about $25.

I was in my friendly neighborhood wine and liquor store last week and came across this wine. I picked up a bottle, and I said to the floor manager, “You know, I haven’t tried this in quite a while. I think I’ll get one of these.”

“Look at the label,” he said wisely.

“O.K, sure, what?”

“It’s not 100 percent pinot noir.”

I looked closely. Mon dieu! The wine contains 18 percent mondeuse grapes!

Let me backtrack for a moment.

Most grapes fit for making wine may be used alone (100 percent varietal, as they say) or blended with other appropriate grapes. The procedure depends a great deal on geography, climate and tradition. In Bordeaux, for example, the red wines are blended from various combinations of cabernet sauvignon grapes, merlot, cabernet franc and petit verdot (malbec is little used nowadays). In the Loire Valley, however, cabernet franc makes its own wine, with no blending. You can find 100 percent cabernet sauvignon or merlot wines all over the world. Going back to the Loire, the white wines of Sancerre and Pouilly-Fume are made from 100 percent sauvignon blanc grapes, but in Bordeaux, the white wine is always a blend of sauvignon blanc and semillon and sometimes muscadelle. The most blended of all blended wines is Chateauneuf-du-Pape, which tends to be primarily syrah, grenache and mourvedre but may contain amounts of up to 10 other grapes, In other parts of the world, however, you find syrah, grenache and mourvedre bottled on their own. You get the idea.

But of all the so-called “noble” red grapes, pinot noir has been sacred. Pinot noir, either in Burgundy, its homeland and apotheosis, or in Oregon’s Willamette Valley, several regions in California and increasingly in New Zealand, the grape is considered to possess such distinctive characteristics, such pure and intense inevitability (or, ideally, such inevitably purity and intensity) that it is never blended, unless, let me add, unscrupulously.

But here we have a widely-known and available pinot noir that includes 18 percent mondeuse grapes. Mondeuse is found in small quantities in the vineyards of France’s Savoie region, an alpine area just west of Switzerland. Most of the wine produced in Savoie is white, but the mondeuse grape is supposed to produce the best reds, which all accounts describe as spicy, peppery, deeply flavored, robust and rustic. So what’s it doing in pinot noir, which ought to be a model of suavity and subtlety and satiny texture?

To my palate, the mondeuse element in the Au Bon Climat Pinot Noir 2005 acts like coarse sandpaper to a fine piece of handmade wood furniture, roughening the surface and lending anomalous rusticity, turning — to extend the metaphor, which, given the chance, I will do nine times out of 10 — a sleek Bauhaus chaise into an Adirondack chair. Not that the wine isn’t pleasant and enjoyable. It’s dark, spicy, exotic, wild, earthy and bold, more like a combination of a zinfandel and a Cotes-du-Rhone than a pinot noir. If that’s what Jim Clendenen wants, who am I to object?

Except that I am, of course. It’s difficult to believe that Au Bon Climat’s basic pinot noir needed “pepping up” in 2005, an excellent year. Why not just let the grapes and the wine speak for themselves? What’s interesting is that nowhere on the Internet, not on the site of any wine retailer, not even on the winery’s website (AuBonClimat.com) is there a mention that the wine is not 100 percent pinot noir. So, readers, you’re saying, “Fer crissake, F.K., if nobody else cares, why do you? Yer making all this fuss about one damned wine!”

Well, readers, that’s just me, and on this blog, I’m the boss of you. It’s my substitute for being Boss of the World. In any case, every wine counts, every wine is an experience (not always good), an education (not always edifying) and an opportunity (not always to be missed). And it’s not that I’m against experimentation or wines inspired by individuality; such wines are often the treasures that we remember above all the other wines.

But pinot noir, my pinot? Leave it alone.

… transporting one miraculously but nowhere in evidence.” That’s what I say in one of the reviews on “A Case of New Releases” page that I just posted on KoeppelOnWine.com, expressing my dismay that some of my favorite pinot noirs from California are showing more oak in 2005 than they did in previous years, a sad device that interferes with the purity and intensity of the grape. The reviews cover a dozen pinots from the Golden State, mainly from Carneros and Monterey’s Santa Lucia Highlands. There’s a metaphor somewhere on the page about the resemblance of Jean Harlow’s slinky satin dresses to the irresistible texture of pinot noir wines. My favorite of the 12? Sure, I’ll go ahead and tell you. It’s the Donum Estate Pinot Noir 2004, Carneros, which at $60 is hardly cheap and at 800 cases is hardly in wide circulation, but if you’re a devotee of brilliantly made, classically balanced and proportioned pinot noir, it’s definitely Worth a Search.

The issue is high alcohol levels in California wines, a phenomenon increasingly noticeable over the past decade. Winemakers are certainly allowing more hang-time for grapes so they achieve greater ripeness and higher sugar levels, resulting in more alcohol, perhaps in an effort to produce wines that make an immediately super-ripe and powerful impression on critics and impressionable judges. On the other hand, some producers assert that high alcohol levels in California wines are the result of global-warming, hence, there’s nothing they can do but go with the climate.
Routinely now we see alcohol levels of white wines in California reach 15 percent and higher, while the scale for red wines, even pinot noir, can soar to 16 percent and higher. How do those figures compare to ages past?

I happen to have, sitting on my desk, a notebook from 1983 in which I kept labels from the wines I tasted; I had to give that up soon after, of course, because there were too many wines and the whole effort was too much trouble. Look at the alcohol level on some of these wines: Silverado Sauvignon Blanc 1982: 12.8 percent. Acacia Chardonnay 1982: 13 percent. Simi Cabernet Sauvignon 1979: 13 percent (lord have mercy, what a great wine that was!). Simi Pinot Noir 1974:12.5 percent (still one of the best pinots I have ever tasted!). Mayacamas Sauvignon Blanc 1980: 13.5 percent. Inglenook Cask Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon 1980: 12.5 percent. Ridge Cabernet Sauvignon 1981, Mendocino: 12.9 percent (and it cost $10!).

Perhaps we should mention, briefly, what alcohol does for wine.

Alcohol gives wine its heady, intoxicating (and potentially dangerous) qualities. Alcohol is the flavorless essence and spirit of wine, “the genie in the bottle” (as Hugh Johnson and James Halliday say in the dedication to The Vintner’s Art), the invisible factor. But a high level takes alcohol (in a table wine) out of invisibility and may turn it into an intrusive element, making the wine taste sweeter than it is, making it “hotter” on the finish and, ultimately, clunky and unbalanced.

Notice that I say “may.” I thoroughly sympathize with the backlash that is mounting against high alcohol levels in California, and I agree with the notion that balance is the most important element in the overall character of a wine, but I think we need to be careful not to issue a blanket condemnation; after all, over-oaking wine is at least as serious a problem in the Golden State.

I would encourage an attitude that accepts what seems natural to California, that is, climate and geography, at least in some of the state’s grape-growing regions, that allow slightly higher alcohol levels to occur naturally, without the manipulation of extended hang-times that strive for cloying super-ripeness. There’s nothing wrong with using Bordeaux as the model for cabernet sauvignon and merlot or Burgundy as the example for chardonnay and pinot noir — in fact I would endorse that proposition to a great extent — but there’s also nothing wrong with letting California be what it is. It’s simply untrue, as I read on a response to a blog post last year, that “any high-alcohol wine is unbalanced.” More factors than alcohol are involved, namely fruit and acid, oak and tannin.

And I deplore the idea that sophisticated wine-drinkers insist that they have a “European palate” or a “California palate” and never the twain shall meet. How parochial and provincial can you get? Surely it’s best to develop a palate that appreciates all legitimate types of wine, from a subtle and nuanced Bordeaux from St. Estephe to a full-throttle Dry Creek Valley zinfandel made from 100-year-old vines. That’s called — how shall I put this? — being a grown-up.

Anyway, here are reports on the five bottles I mentioned briefly in a post last week-end about high-alcohol wines.

*Logan Sleepy Hollow Vineyard Chardonnay 2005, Monterey County. 14.7 percent alcohol. Well, this was just flat-out lovely. Yes, it’s bold and bright, rich and spicy and lush, but these elements are balanced by a flood of crisp acid and undercurrents of limestone and shale. The only oak it sees is neutral — that is, used barrels — so the influence is quite subtle. The wine is so beautifully balanced that if you didn’t look at the label, you would never think, “Whoa, man, this is 14.7!” Logan is the second label of Talbott Vineyards. The suggested retail price is $18; I have seen prices that go up to $25.

*Tablas Creek Grenache Blanc 2004, Paso Robles. 15.3 percent alcohol. Tablas Creek is a collaboration between the Perrin family of Chateau de Beaucastel, in Chateauneuf-du-Pape, and the importer Robert Haas of Vineyard Brands. This opens as a perfect California rendition of a southern Rhone white, all roasted lemon and lemon curd, dried spice and camellia, slightly astringent yet generous, but from mid-palate back it feels a little blocky, and the finish is heavy, a bit awkward. One longs to know what the wine would have been like at 13.5 percent alcohol. 560 cases made. About $22 to $28.

*Grgich Hills Cabernet Sauvignon 2003, Napa Valley. 14.7 percent alcohol. This level of alcohol is scarcely radical for a red wine from California nowadays, but what actually worries me here is the wine’s excessively earthy nature. I opened this and tasted it at 5:30 this morning and, while writing. kept the glass on my desk, working with it for an hour. It never lost that quality of uncouthness. Frankly, I’m worried about this venerable winery. The white wines are glorious; the Fume Blanc 2004 was one of my “50 Best Wines of 2005,” and the Chardonnay 2004 made the list for 2006. But the red wines I have tasted recently, including the Zinfandel 2004 and the Merlot 2003, showed similar signs of excessive earthiness. I don’t know where the problem lies, but it needs to be fixed. About $58.

*St. Clement Oroppas Cabernet Sauvignon 2004, Napa Valley. 15.6 percent alcohol. This huge wine is the most syrah-like cabernet I have ever tasted. (The blend has 15 percent merlot.) Or it’s the most zinfandel-like cabernet I have ever tasted. Whatever the case, the towering alcohol content does this wine no good and actually turns it into a parody. About $55.

*Mazzocco Vineyards Stone Ranch Zinfandel 2004, Alexander Valley. 16.9 percent alcohol. Yep, that’s right, 16.9 percent, meaning that it’s about two degrees shy of a fortified Port. This is made in the classic, old-fashioned, Sonoma County fashion, with its incredibly ripe, spicy black fruit flavors and amazingly voluptuous texture balanced by walloping tannins, ringing acid and a backbone of iron. No, darling, it ain’t elegant, but it somehow manages not to be exaggerated. Pure California. On the other hand, what do you do with it? About $24. Read a full review of this wine and three other zinfandels (and a chardonnay) from Mazzocco at http://www.koeppelonwine.com/A_Case_Of_New_Releases.asp

On Wednesday, Tom Wark at “Fermentation: The Daily Wine Blog” — http://www.fermentation.typepad.com — referred to a recent article in Stephen Tanzer’s International Wine Cellar newsletter in which Tanzer, a highly respected and astute wine reviewer and commentator on the wine industry, said that he thought that alcohol levels in California wines were coming down.

It would be good if that tendency were true. High alcohol levels, the result of long hang times for the grapes so they achieve a sort of monster ripeness, have produced a whole generation of hot, sweet, unwieldy and one-dimensional wines. We have seen alcohol levels soar to 14.5 percent, 15 percent, 15.5 percent, not only for zinfandels, many of which have a reputation for hugeness, but for cabernet sauvignon, syrah, petite sirah and even pinot noir. Even white wines commonly now top out at 14.5 percent alcohol. The notion that a wine ought to be balanced, that a wine ought to reveal integration of all it essential qualities seems to have been forgotten. The typical alcohol levels of the past — about 11.5 to 13.5 percent — now seem almost naive.

So if Tanzer, who tastes thousands of wines a year, is correct, I would rejoice.

But look at the alcohol levels of these wines that I plucked from my shelves and the refrigerator this morning:

*Logan Sleepy Hollow Vineyard Chardonnay 2005, Monterey County: 14.7 percent.

*Tablas Creek Grenache Blanc 2004, Paso Robles: 15.3 percent.

*Grgich Hills Cabernet Sauvignon 2003, Napa Valley: 14.7 percent.

*St. Clement Oroppas Cabernet Sauvignon 2004, Napa Valley: 15.6 percent. (For a cabernet!)

*Mazzocco Stone Ranch Zinfandel 2004, Alexander Valley: 16.9 percent.

Not exactly a representative sample, perhaps, but enough to tell me not to hold my breath until alcohol levels in California wines really start to tumble.

On the other hand, it’s unfair to dismiss these wines merely because of the alcohol content. I’ll try them and post another entry in a few days to tell you how they perform.

Much sound and fury have been expended recently by respondents on Eric Asimov’s blog “The Pour” — http://thepour.blogs.nytimes.com (look at the posts for Jan. 9 & 11) — about whence come the world’s best cheap wines, the consensus being that Spain, Italy and France (Argentina, Chile and Australia receive little credit) produce the best, the most authentic cheap wines and that California, basically, sucks.
The idea seems to be that those picturesque European countries are filled with homey, little mom-and-pop wineries where the wines, made from ancient vines nurtured with love and craft passed down through family generations, not only epitomize the acme of terroir but the empyrean of dignity, nobility, honor and sincerity, while in California multinational corporations pump out millions of gallons of anonymous swill and unload it, via dazzling marketing campaigns and goofy critter labels, on an unsuspecting public.
That’s hardly fair.

I mean, if you have never sat down in some countryside cafe in France or Italy to a carafe of the locally-made vino rosso de la casa or the vin rouge de la maison, took a sip and said, “Whoa, man, I can’t drink this shit,” then you’ve been lucky indeed. Ever try to work your way through a tasting of Muscadet? Soave? Valpolicella? Never had a Cotes-du-Rhone that attacked your tongue like sandpaper? Never had a Rioja that tasted like shellac? Never had a $15 Bordeaux in which oak and tannin held a party but didn’t put fruit on their dance-cards?
Good wine and great wine; bad wine and decent wine; bland, innocuous, serviceable and forgettable wine: Friends, they’re made everywhere.

It’s true that California has not always set the best example, and indeed some of the blame must rest on the largest producers, with their “Founder’s Estate” cheapies that have nothing to do with the winery’s founder or his estate or their “Proprietor’s Reserve” wines that call into question the ludicrous term “reserve” because they make 500,000 cases and the “proprietor” is CEO of a bi-continental conglomerate. Yes, we’re familiar with all these factors, and the quality of a great deal of this wine — bland, innocuous, serviceable and forgettable, as I mentioned above — won’t turn soft-drink-and-iced-tea-guzzling Americans into a nation of thoughtful, considerate wine-drinkers. Perhaps — and here the dark, cynical pessimist in me erupts like Grendel from his loathsome lair — nothing will.
But let’s shake those lurid shadows from our shoulders. I taste tons of $5 to $15 wines from California, and much of it is, sadly and predictably, B.I.S. & F., but how bad can life be when we have cheap wines from Rosenblum, Foppiano, Cline, Bonny Doon, Castle Rock and Bogle to choose from?

To whet your thirst, here are six cheapies from California I tasted and reviewed recently that should satisfy just about any palate: Happy Camper Merlot 2004, California, about $9 (I know, the package is way high-concept slick); Lockwood Chardonnay 2004, Monterey, about $10-$12; Hook & Ladder Gewurztraminer 2005, Russian River Valley, about $12; Shannon Ridge Wrangler Red 2005, Lake County, about $14 (a limited production blend of cabernet franc, syrah and barbera and Worth a Search); Bennett Family Reserve Chardonnay 2004, Russian River Valley, about $15; Hess Collection Artezin 2004, California, about $15 (94% zinfandel, 6% petite sirah).

And, to take the opposite tack, here’s a link to the “Refrigerator Door Wines” page on my website — http://www.koeppelonwine.com/Refrigerator_Door_Wines.asp — where yesterday I posted reviews of a dozen wines — five from Argentina, four from France, two from Italy and one from Spain — priced from about $7 to $15. Enjoy.