First, a lesson in wine geography and nomenclature.

Readers familiar with the official A.O.C. system — Appellation d’Origine Contrôlée — that governs grape-growing and winemaking in France probably know that there are basic wines from Bordeaux that can be labeled as such and basic wines from Burgundy that can be labeled as Bourgogne. The same is not true, however, for the Loire Valley region. Burgundy is minuscule in extent compared to Bordeaux, while Bordeaux is dwarfed by the Loire Valley, noted for being France’s largest and most diverse vineyard and wine-producing area. Grape varieties in Burgundy and Bordeaux, to stay with these handy examples, are limited and consistent; the Loire Valley is blessed — some would say cursed — with a dizzying array of grape varieties. If you picked up a bottle labeled Bourgogne Blanc, you could count on chardonnay being inside the bottle (well, yes, there’s a little pinot blanc in those vineyards); similarly, you would know that Bordeaux Blanc would be a blend of sauvignon blanc and semillon, perhaps with a touch of sauvignon gris or muscadelle. What would be inside a bottle labeled generically as Loire Valley Blanc, however, would be anybody’s guess.

This little disquisition leads to the Wine of the Week, the Pascal Jolivet Attitude Sauvignon Blanc 2009, which carries the designation Vin de Pays du Val de Loire. “Ah ha,” you crow, “there it is, F.K. ‘Val de Loire.’ Loire Valley.” Ah ha, yourself. Notice that this wine is a Vin de Pays, a “country wine,” and therefore a step below the A.O.C. wines in the French scheme of vinous things. Once known by the rather meaningless title Vin de Pays du Jardin de la France, the name was changed to Vin de Pays du Val de Loire in 2007, lending a regional identity which is still somewhat misleading, since this Vin de Pays encompasses 14 departments..

Now, here’s the interesting part. The grapes for this wine derive from two vineyards in the Touraine A.O.C., a Central Loire area rich in history and grand chateaux and a long heritage of winemaking. A Touraine Blanc A.O.C. does exist; the wine can be a blend of chenin blanc, sauvignon blanc, arbois and up to 20 percent chardonnay. There’s even an appellation for Sauvignon de Touraine. So, why did Pascal Jolivet elect to label this wine as VDP du Val de Loire rather than the A.O.C. Sauvignon de Touraine? The clue perhaps lies in the letters “I.G.P” after the VDP designation on the label. The initials stand for Indication Géographique Protégée — “protected geographical region” — and it’s part of a five-year modernization of wine regulations launched by the French government in May 2008. IGP will replace the VDP level of wines, and among other easing of the former rules, it will allow producers to make wines from whatever grape varieties they chose and to take grapes from two or more regions. (It also allows the use of wood chips instead of oak barrels.)

Anyway and finally, the Pascal Jolivet Attitude Sauvignon Blanc 2009, made all in stainless steel, is a charming wine with enough seriousness about it to demand some consideration. The color is very pale straw-gold. Aromas of lemon and lime are imbued with elements of limestone and flint and hints of grapefruit skin and apple skin. There is indeed a bit of “attitude” about the wine, evidenced in its bright spiciness and the boldness of its clean acidity. Flavors of roasted lemon, quince and ginger are bolstered by deep, pervasive minerality, a sort of chalk over limestone foundation, while the texture is both lively and supple. The finish is rounded with a bracing bell-tone of grapefruit pith. Alcohol content is an eminently sane 12.5 percent. This was terrific with seared sock-eye salmon, potato salad and chard. Very Good+. About $17.

Imported by Frederick Wildman and Sons, New York. A sample for review.

Yes, Oveja Negra means “black sheep” — the outcast, the shunned — but this quartet of blended wines from Chile should be insiders on your table this summer. The wines are thoughtfully made from sustainable vineyards by Rafael Tirado, they’re primarily tasty and approachable, and the price, as you’ll see, can’t be beat. They’re from Chile’s Maule Valley, which lies within the country’s vast and productive Central Valley, which also include the vineyard regions of Maipo, Rapel and Curicó. No new oak is used with these Reserva wines. The bottles are topped with screw-caps for easy opening.

The Oveja Negra Reserva Sauvignon Blanc Carmenère 2009 is absolutely delightful. The blend is 85 percent sauvignon blanc and 15 percent carmenère, which, the sharp-eyed among you will assert, is a red grape, so it’s picked early, slightly under-ripe for the acidity, treated as if it were being made into a rosé wine, with no skin contact, and then blended back. The wine is made completely in stainless steel. This is clean, fresh and delicate, with penetrating scents of grapefruit, crushed jasmine, talc, lime peel and lemon balm; that’s right, you could dab it behind your ears on a soft summer night. Vivid acidity keeps the wine crisp and lively, buoying light flavors of slightly leafy lemon with hints of cloves and new-mown grass. The wine is quite dry and a little chalky, and the finish brings in a note of damp limestone. One of the prettiest wines around. Alcohol content is 13.2 percent. Very Good+. About $12 and a Great Bargain.

I was not quite as enamored of the Oveja Negra Reserva Chardonnay Viognier 2008, a blend of 82 percent chardonnay and 18 percent viognier. It’s simply a stylistic matter; this is rather too boldly and brightly spicy and tropical for my taste, but it’s certainly well-made. Ten percent of the wine is aged eight months in used French oak; in fact, these Oveja Negra Reserva wines see no new oak at all. Roasted grapefruit, baked pineapple, lemon-lime and lemon balm, a hint of spiced mango (and in the bouquet a beguiling touch of honeysuckle from the viognier): juicy but very dry, quite drinkable but more florid than I like, even in an inexpensive white wine. If it’s to your taste, go for it. Alcohol is 13.7 percent. Very Good. About $12.

The aromas of black and red currants that waft from a glass of the Oveja Negra Reserva Cabernet Franc Carmenère 2008 — the blend is 70/30 — are not only ripe and seductive but intense and concentrated and permeated by elements of cocoa powder and cloves, briers and brambles; the wine is deeply spicy and peppery, earthy and minerally in a crushed gravel sort of way, and its luscious, almost velvety black and red fruit flavors (with a whisk of cedary blueberry) lead to a finish with a touch of leathery austerity. The oak regimen is this: 40 percent of the wine aged eight to 10 months in a combination of 60 percent French and 40 percent American used oak barrels; the majority of the wine remained in stainless steel. A lot of personality for the price here, and a natural mate with grilled steaks and hamburgers or hearty pizzas and pasta dishes. 14.1 percent alcohol. Very Good+, and a Great Bargain at about $12.

Fourth in this roster is the Oveja Negra Reserva Cabernet Sauvignon Syrah 2008, a 68/32 percent blend with the same oak treatment as the Cabernet Franc Carmenère 08 mentioned above. This is a sizable wine, dense, concentrated, chewy, smoky and very spicy; it’s packed with earth- and mineral-infused black currant, blackberry and plum flavors, and the finish is stalwart with grainy tannins and polished oak. A little closed-in now and showing not quite the immediate pleasure of the previous wine. Perhaps a year in the bottle will soften it. 14 percent alcohol. Very Good. About $12.

Imported by Vici Wine & Spirits, Coral Springs, Fla. Tasted at a trade luncheon.

“That’s perfect,” said LL, sipping from a glass of Girard Sauvignon Blanc 2009, Napa Valley. She was referring not just to the wine but to its quietly impeccable match with our dinner last night, an improvised dish of Fava Bean Risotto with Mint and Green Peas.

It’s always exciting to see fava beans in the markets in May and June, because I know that LL will buy a pound or so and turn them into risotto, an annual treat made more precious by its rare appearance. The younger and more tender the beans are, the easier they are to work with; they come double-clothed, first in the large pod and then in a tight, inner sheath. What LL made was really a combination of recipes from Alice Waters and Jamie Oliver; the Waters recipe called for asparagus, which we did not have, while Oliver included green peas and mint, which we did. The easiest way to deal with fava beans is to strip off the rather ugly pod, drop the favas in a pot of boiling water, turn down the flame and simmer them for one minute; then run them under cold water and either using your fingers or a small knife strip away the skin. Waters recommends cooking the fava beans for 15 or 20 more minutes, but these were so tender without cooking (except for that one minute) that LL just pureed them as they were, with olive oil and a handful of mint from the Memphis Farmers Market. She wasn’t going to use green peas, but relented at the last moment to give the texture of the risotto “some bumps,” to use her technical culinary term. The peas also came from the Farmers Market.

This made an absolutely wonderful dish, filled with the redolent and flavorful freshness of early summer made sprightly with the hint of mint.

Fresh and sprightly, too, was the Girard Sauvignon Blanc 2009, made all in stainless steel and seeing no malolactic process, so the acidity flashes like a bright, keen blade. The color is pale straw, the next cousin to the color of water, yet conveying its own subtle radiance. An utterly entrancing bouquet of lilac segueing to camellia, of talc and pears, of pine resin and sea-salt and some lemony-herbal tisane draws you in irresistibly; a few minutes in the glass bring in touches of hay, grass and lime peel. The wine is very dry, brisk and lively, deftly balanced between the spare-crisp-chalky median and moderately lush suavity. Flavors of roasted lemon and just a bit of some tropical element — pineapple and mango — are subdued in the finish by a tang of pithy grapefruit bitterness. The alcohol content is 13.9 percent. Winemakers for Girard are Marco DiGiulio and Zach Long. Excellent. About $16, a Raving Bargain.

A sample for review.

Last night we made the Orecchiette with Cauliflower, Anchovies and Fried Croutons from the May 2010 issue of Bon Appetit. The recipe is included in an article about the cuisine and wine of Puglia, the Achilles heel and actual heel of the Italian boot. Simplicity is the byword in that rugged region, and not much could be simpler than this dish. The most complicated part is dicing bread to make croutons and cutting a few zucchini into 1/3-inch cubes. The cauliflower is trimmed, cut into 1-inch florets and roasted in a 425-degree oven. There are garlic, anchovies, Italian parsley, Parmesan and Romano cheeses, and basically the whole thing comes together at the last minute before you add the cute, al dente orecchiette, “little ears.” This is a terrific pasta that needs no side dishes because your vegetables are already there! You could have a salad, of course.

I wanted something crisp and beguiling for the wine, and not anything overbearing or flamboyant — not the triteness of the brash New Zealand style — so I opened a bottle of the Gainey Vineyard Sauvignon Blanc 2008, from California’s Santa Ynez Valley, and got exactly what I wanted. Made from grapes derived from Gainey’s Home Vineyard, the wine is a blend of 75 percent sauvignon blanc and 25 percent semillon. It’s made completely in stainless steel, so its vivid freshness and vibrancy make themselves known immediately, yet beyond that aspect, the wine is a model of restraint, a tissue of nods and nuances. Aromas of pears, watermelon and grapefruit are highlighted by notes of thyme and tarragon and a bit of grass; the semillon makes itself known by hints of leafy fig and lemongrass. The wine is crisp and lithe, but not angular, and it layers flavors of roasted lemon and pear with spice, lavender and a resonant limestone quality that sweeps a tinge of grapefruit sass into the finish. The complete effect is of balance and integration, of each element permeating and permeated by the other elements, plus, the whole thing is damned delightful. The winemaker is Jon Engelskirger. Production was 1,450 cases. Excellent. About $15, a Raving Great Value.

A sample for review.

What, oh what to drink with fried soft-shell crab sandwiches?

The preparation couldn’t be simpler. Clean the little creatures, dip them first in milk and then in bread crumbs (with salt and pepper and maybe a squeeze of chili powder) and fry them in olive oil. We like these sandwiches with ciabatta rolls because they have a nice chewy texture and stand up well to any grease or drippiness. (And what’s a soft-shell crab sandwich sans a bit of grease and drippiness?) A dollop of remoulade sauce, layers of lettuce and tomato, and voila! mighty fine eatin’ as they say in Gay Paree.

I cast about looking at this wine and that wine, taking a sip here and a sip there, and finally settled on the Craggy Range Te Muna Road Vineyard Sauvignon Blanc 2009, from New Zealand’s well-known Marlborough region. This is a delicious and eloquent expression of the sauvignon blanc grape, but I’m as fascinated by its making as by its lovely qualities, so if it doesn’t totally geek you out, allow me to mention a few factors. The grapes ferment in a combination of French oak barriques and stainless steel tanks, 12 percent of the former, 88 percent (of course) of the latter. The oak barrels themselves are a combination of new barrels — a bare 4 percent — and “seasoned” barrels, that is, previously used, so they have largely lost their toasty character. After fermentation, the wine ages in these carefully chosen vessels for four months, on the lees of spent yeast cells.

So, what do we have?

A sauvignon blanc from New Zealand that avoids the excesses and exaggerations that we have come to recognize instantly in so many sauvignon blanc wines from that nation of narrow islands. The Craggy Range Te Muna Road Sauvignon Blanc 2009 displays fine balance between stone fruit and citrus fruit, meaning the lushness of peach and nectarine, on the one hand, poised with the zesty, lean and slightly bitter nature of lime peel and grapefruit on the other; a touch of apple blossom in the nose serves as a bridge to a hint of green apple in the mouth. Lively acidity, like a clear bell-tone, lends the wine sinew and nerve, while a prominent mineral element — soft as talc and sharp as limestone — builds the structure from mid-palate back through a clean, spicy finish. Now through 2012, whether with soft-shell crab sandwiches, sushi, grilled shrimp or fried trout in a classic brown butter and caper sauce. Excellent. About $22.

Imported by Kobrand Corp., Purchase, N.Y. A sample for review.

Most wineries in California are content to produce one sauvignon blanc wine. Some offer a “regular” sauvignon blanc and a “reserve” bottling. And a few make (or attempt to make) a distinction between a sauvignon blanc style and a so-called fumé blanc style. Only Dry Creek Vineyard, as far as I can tell, produces four wines from the sauvignon blanc grape.

First, a bit of history.

At one time, the sauvignon blanc grape was treated as a stepchild in California. If it was not used in blending to make innocuous jug wines, it was produced in a semi-sweet fashion to appeal to what was thought of as the rather simpleminded palate of American consumers. Robert Mondavi changed all that in 1966 by bottling a dry sauvignon blanc under the name “fumé blanc,” a take-off on the Pouilly-Fumé appellation at the eastern edge of the Loire Valley region, where the sauvignon blanc wines display a sort of smoky (“fumé”) aspect. Winemakers in California leaped on this term and immediately began to differentiate between two styles of sauvignon blanc wines, the “fumé blanc,” Loire Valley style and the more elegant and austere “sauvignon blanc” Bordeaux style. Often these distinctions were made visual by the package; fumé blanc wines were produced in the slope-shouldered Sancerre and Pouilly-Fume bottle, and sauvignon blanc wines were produced in the high-shouldered Bordeaux-type bottle.

As the decades progressed, these differences became more theoretical, and it seems that fewer wineries use the term “fumé blanc” or the Loire-style bottle these days, a hold-out being Ferrari-Carano, whose Fumé Blanc can be found on restaurant wine lists across the land.

So, does Dry Creek Vineyard need four wines made from sauvignon blanc grapes? That’s their choice, of course — practically and economically — but only if real distinctions can be made among the wines.
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The Dry Creek Vineyard Fumé Blanc 2008, Sonoma County, made all in stainless steel, is as fresh as a daisy and as clean as a whistle. Lively scents of kiwi and lime peel, fennel and grapefruit, with hints of melon and dried thyme and tarragon, make for an irresistibly appealing bouquet. The wine is very dry, crisp and snappy; flavors of smoky lemon are a little grassy, with a bit of leafy fig in the background, all encompassed in a texture that neatly marries the litheness of limestone minerality to a slightly lush quality. This sauvignon blanc carries a Sonoma County designation between the grapes derive from Russian River Valley and Dry Creek Valley. The alcohol content is 13.5%. Widely available. Very Good+. About $12, a Great Bargain.
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Where the Dry Creek Fumé Blanc 2008, Sonoma County, is brash and buoyant, the Dry Creek Sauvignon Blanc 2008, Dry Creek Valley (a new release for the winery), is restrained and elegant, at least in the nose. The color is pale straw with a faint green cast; intense aromas of almond blossom, orange rind, Key lime and jasmine gently unfold. In the mouth, the wine is dry and zesty and vibrant with crisp acidity; flavors of pear, melon and yellow plum contain a hint of leafy fig at the core, along with a touch of grass and hay. The finish brings in a little chalk and limestone to round out the effect of depth and elegance. Lovely texture and balance make this an extremely attractive wine, with pleasing personality and tone. The wine includes six percent sauvignon musqué, an aromatic clone of sauvignon blanc. Production was 9,649 cases. Alcohol is 13.5%. Excellent. About $16, Great Value.
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Next in the roster is the Dry Creek Vineyard DCV3 Estate Fumé Blanc 2007, Dry Creek Valley. Made from the winery’s original vineyard planted in 1972 (the first planting of sauvignon blanc in Dry Creek Valley), this wine of crystalline purity and intensity offers aromas of pear and melon, ginger and quince, lime peel and a sort of dusty chalky quality. Exquisitely textured, it’s a sauvignon blanc of pinpoint focus and clarity, with every element feeling locked into place yet generous and expansive. Flavors are dominated by grapefruit, pear and lemongrass lent scintillating effect by laser-like acidity and limestone-and-shale-like minerality. A beautiful sauvignon blanc, shapely yet elegantly spare. 394 cases were produced. Alcohol is 13.5%. Drink through 2011. Excellent. About $25.
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Here’s where I part company with Dry Creek’s quartet of sauvignon blanc wines. The Dry Creek Taylor’s Vineyard Musqué 2007, Dry Creek Valley, illustrates, at least to this palate, the inappropriateness of bottling the musqué clone on its own. Yes, as a blending grape it can bring a fine floral element to sauvignon blanc, but as a 100 percent varietal wine I find that it lacks vividness and verve. Sure the bouquet on this example is an appealing melange of peach and apricot, a little sweetly ripe and tropical, and yes, there’s a hint of jasmine and honeysuckle, but I would like a bit more zing in the fairly plush texture and a little less than 14.5% alcohol in the slightly hot finish. Pleasant in its way, but it doesn’t work for me as a model of balance or authority. 333 cases. Very Good. About $25.
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These wines were samples for review.
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Joan Didion was once asked to lecture on the topic “Why I Write.” Her response was something like, “Look at the vowels in those three words: I, I, I.” In other words, writing is all about me, myself and I, and writing on a blog is the same deal. Wait! No! Those are the other blogs! This blog is all about you, you, you, my readers! Just so, the title of this post, “Nine White Wines,” encloses those “I, I, I” implications, but is really about wine choices for you, though today I limit those choices somewhat by excluding wines made from the chardonnay grape. I’ve tried some pretty good ones recently but also some chardonnays that were sodden with oak, so that grape will get separate posts in a week or so, “a week or so” being such a comfortingly elastic expression of futurity. (I’ve never seen this photograph of Joan Didion before, from 1970; wow, what a dish! And one of my favorite writers and heroes for her courage, her unflinching gaze, her slashing prose! I’m on a project now of reading or re-reading all her books.)

Anyway, Nine White Wines (and a bonus at the end).
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Made all in stainless steel, the Dry Creek Vineyard Chenin Blanc 2008, Wilson Ranch, Clarksburg — in the Sacramento Delta region of Northern California — opens with whiffs of lemon balm and dried thyme, with tangerine and a hint of orange zest. This is an incredibly fresh and refreshing wine whose crisp acidity whets the palate and lays the groundwork for juicy citrus flavors touched with a bit of mango; lightness and delicacy are wedded to a moderately lush texture. The finish rounds out the wine with some lime peel and bracing grapefruit bitterness. The alcohol is a soothing 12.5 percent. Always a favorite for summer quaffing with grilled shrimp, seafood risotto or linguine with clam sauce. Closed (for the first time) with a screw-cap. Very Good. About $12, representing Great Value.
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The torrontés grape makes charming and delightful wines but not great wines, and that’s nothing for it to worry its pretty little head about; how happy we are, for example, to meet a person who is consistently charming, delightful and undemanding. Sort of like me. The Trivento Amado Sur Torrontés 2009, Mendoza, Argentina, however, blends 15 percent viognier grapes and 10 percent chardonnay with 75 percent torrontés. What, I thought, is this an attempt to pump up the virtues of a simple grape and turn it into something “important,” a “Super Torrontés,” as it were? The fact is, this is a terrifically appealing wine that offers scents of ripe peach, pear and quince with meadowy undertones and a whiff of camellia. It’s very dry, very crisp and mounts a limestone element so piercing that it’s almost poignant. Give the wine a few minutes and it becomes slightly honeyed (but not sweet), with notes of candied grapefruit and ginger, but there’s always that crystalline acidity and austere minerality to leaven the sensuousness; the finish brings in the forthright bitterness of grapefruit and lime peel. So, I suppose this is a kind of Super Torrontés and no worse for the bolstering. Very Good+. About $15, Good Value.

Imported by Excelsior Wine & Spirits, a division of Banfi Vintners, Old Brookville, N.Y. Trivento — “three winds” — is the Argentine outpost of Chile’s giant wine producer Concha y Toro.
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Bold in stone fruit, the Adegas D’Altamira Albariño Brandal 2008, from Spain’s northwestern region of Rias Baixas in Galicia, takes yellow plum and peach and blends them with dried thyme, sage and white pepper for a striking bouquet; in a few minutes you’ll notice touches of orange zest and lime peel, grass and hay. The texture is amazing, so plush that it feels talc-like yet cut with riveting acidity and a scintillating limestone quality. Flavors are more melon and pear than stone fruit, with hints of cloves and ginger, the whole package being dry, zesty and savory. The wine is made all in stainless steel and does not go through the malolactic process, so it retains buoyant freshness and concentration. I can hear it now, on its knees, begging, “Please, please, please, serve me with oysters right out of the sea!” Or mussels grilled with rosemary would be good too. 12.5 percent alcohol. Drink now through 2012. Excellent. About $18.

Imported by Quintessential, Napa, Ca.
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Winter’s Hill farm was established in 1961 by the Gladhart family in what is now Oregon’s Dundee Hills appellation within the Willamette Valley. Dundee Hills is where David Lett, Dick Erath and the Sokol Blosser family started their pioneering wineries in the 1960s and early ’70s, staking a claim for pinot noir. The Gladharts planted their first vines in 1990. The winemaker now is Delphine Gladhart, a Frenchwoman married to Russell Gladhart.

The Winter’s Hill Pinot Blanc 2007, Dundee Hills, delivers wonderful tone and presence while maintaining a fleetness and delicacy of effect that’s exhilarating. Mildly spicy pear and lemon scents segue into spicier flavors of pear, roasted lemon and melon, with a touch of almond skin. The balance and restraint here, the equilibrium and sense of elegance allied to a feeling of slightly repressed depth, are not only admirable but irresistible. So many wines could profit from this sort of decorum that never feels fastidious. Production was 840 cases, so mark this Worth a Search. The alcohol level is 14 percent. Excellent. About $18.
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The Guado al Tasso Vermentino 2008, from Antinori’s winery in Bolgheri, in southwestern Tuscany, is a sort of seaside wine; one feels the briskness and breeziness of the sea-wind, the snap of salt and crusted oyster shells. There’s the slight fragrant astringency of rosemary crushed in the hand, the richness of roasted lemon and lemon balm, a subtle note of honeysuckle and jasmine. Adding to the freshness are tingling acidity, a touch of spritz –this is all stainless steel — and heaping elements of damp limestone. So this is delightful and charming, but not simpleminded; there are serious bones here, the structure of elegance, an evocative whisper of Olympian distance in the austere finish. 13 percent alcohol. We drank this with roasted salmon with a potato and artichoke hash. Excellent. About $25.

Imported by Ste. Michelle Wine Estates, Woodinville, Washington.

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Yes, you’re reading this correctly: Pinot blanc grapes — a mutation of genetically unstable pinot noir — do grow in Burgundy, though they are found rarely in vineyards and even more rarely bottled as a single wine. (They thrive in cooler Alsace.) The venerable Domaine Henri Gouges, however, employs pinot blanc for its Bourgogne, and for 2007 produced a delightful example. Did I say “delightful”? Actually, the Domaine Henri Gouges Bourgogne Blanc Pinot Blanc 2007 is one of the prettiest wines I have tasted in dog’s years. This is wonderfully fresh, clean and pure, with notes of jasmine and chalk, macerated lemons and lemon curd with a touch of spiced pear and quince. Avid acidity flashes like a bright blade — man, I just freakin’ love alliteration! — enlivening a texture that inextricably weds crispness to slightly cushiony lushness. If this didn’t fall a tad short on the finish, it would be well-nigh perfect, though it’s still well-worth seeking out. Very Good+. About $26 to $32.

Imported by Vineyard Brands, Birmingham, Ala.

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Here’s what hard work and perseverance (and maybe being in the right place at the right time) will do for you. Damian Parker, director of winemaking for Joseph Phelps Vineyard, came to the winery in 1981 as bottle-line supervisor. Ashley Hepworth came to Joseph Phelps in 1999 to work the crush, after two years in the kitchen at Charlie Trotter, and in 2008 was promoted to winemaker. America is a great country after all!

Whatever the combination of knowledge and experience Parker and Hepworth represent, they got the Joseph Phelps Sauvignon Blanc 2008, St. Helena, Napa Valley, exactly right. While there’s nothing wrong (or not much) with the larky, snappy, blastingly citric and tropical sauvignon blancs that flood the market today, it’s nice to sip a sauvignon blanc fit for grown-ups. First, all things lemon are here, from roasted lemon to lemon balm and lemon curd, with an infusion of dried thyme and tarragon and a hint of dusty summer meadows. The wine is quite lively, sporting a keen edge of damp limestone and a tingling line of crisp acidity. The oak is subtle and supple, the result of eight months in new French oak puncheons — generally defined as holding 500 liters — and one- and two-year old French barriques, holding 225 liters or 59 gallons; in other words, the winemakers consciously decided to forgo the influence of new barriques for a more nuanced approach. What can I say? This is a sauvignon blanc of immense presence and authority that doesn’t neglect the elements of elegance and grace. Drink now through 2012 or ’13. The alcohol content is a sensible 13.5 percent. Exceptional. About $32.
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The Grosset Polish Hill Riesling 2008, Clare Valley, South Australia, delivers exactly what you want from a Clare Valley riesling: a classic bouquet of lychees and peaches, lime peel and petrol (or rubber eraser) and penetrating aromas of gunflint and damp shale. If you could drink such a bouquet you could stop there, but move along, please, to flavors of orange zest, grapefruit and mango ensconced in a very dry, very crisp and spare structure that makes it feel as if you’re drinking liquid limestone that dates back to the Ice Age it’s so pure and immediate, and yet, paradoxically, here comes a gentle whiff of rose petal and lilac. The finish, not surprisingly, is elegantly-wrought, all high cheek-bones and unblemished foreheads, very cool, pale, princesse lointaine, complete. The whole effect is beguiling and seductive, and I wish I had a glass sitting right here beside me (though I’m having a fine old time with this quaffable Domaine “La Garrigue” Cuvee Romaine Côte du Rhône 2008 that I’m sipping rather too much of at the present moment). Drink now through 2014 or ’15. Screw-cap closed. Exceptional. About $38.

Imported by USA Wine West, Sausalito, Cal., for The Australian Premium Wine Collection.
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What you need to know about the St. Urbans-Hof Piesporter Goldtropfchen Riesling Auslese 2007, Mosel-Saar-Ruwer, is, first (working backward), that it’s from Germany’s Mosel region; second, that it derives from the excellent and even better year of 2007; that’s the ripeness level of Auslese is pretty damn ripe and potentially sweet; that the grape is riesling; that the vineyard is the well-known, even legendary Goldtropfchen; that the commune wherein the vineyard resides is the equally well-known Piesport; and that the producer is St. Urbans-Hof. Got that? And they say that German wine labels are too complicated!

The color is shimmering pale gold; aromas of softly spiced and macerated peaches and pears are permeated by lime peel and cloves and by subtle earthiness, clean and damp, and pert slate-like minerality. The acidity is so tremendous that the wine practically vibrates in the glass, yet the faint sweetness, a subtle sense of honeyed and baked stone fruit, like brioche with peach and plum marmalade, cuts the acid down to layers of etched limestone. This is vital, resonant and lively, though the finish comes through with an aura of stately balance and integration. We drank this with roasted salmon accompanied by roasted potato salad in a cilantro/jalapeño vinaigrette. Yay, LL! Now through 2017 or ’20, well-stored. Excellent. About $55.
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Yer Bonus: Two sparkling wines from Vouvray, Loire Valley, meaning chenin blanc grapes. Each made in the traditional champagne method of second fermentation in the bottle.

The Francois Pinon Vouvray Brut (non-vintage) is all steel, limestone and shale, roasted lemons, quince and ginger; the color is pale straw/gold, the myriad tiny bubbles as uncountable as the galaxies in the heavens. Very clean and fresh and crisp, with touches of biscuits, baking spices and toasted almonds, with a faint whiff of almond blossom. We drank this while cooking dinner one night and snacking on flatbread slathered with dried tomato and walnut pesto. Charming and delectable. Very Good+, and a Bargain at about $17.

Imported by Louis/Dressner, New York.
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Maison Huet — “oo-ay” — has been among the best producers of dry, semi-sweet and late-harvest Vouvray wines since it was founded in 1928. You will notice that the Domaine Huet Brut 2002, Vouvray Petillant, is seven and a half years old, and at this point it is drinking to perfection. Pop the cork — I mean open it properly and gently — and you smell the fresh bread, biscuits and granite from a foot away. The color is medium gold; the “bead” is gently effusive — petillant implies lightly sparkling — and mildly effervescent. This sparkling wine, which ages four years in the bottle on the yeast, evinces the straw/hay quality of the chenin blanc grape but offers, also, touches of buttered toast, cinnamon bread and a hint of roasted hazelnuts and macerated lemons and pears preserved with cloves. I hope readers get the idea that the Huet Brut 2002 is not just “a reasonable alternative” to Champagne but a fine expression of a grape and a style of sparkling wine in itself. It should be consumed within a year or 18 months. Excellent. About $30 to $35.

Imported by Robert Chadderdon Selections, New York.
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Samples for review, except for the Domaine Henri Gouges Bourgogne Pinot Blanc 2007, tasted at a trade event in New York. Photo of Joan Didion, Hollywood, 1970, by Julian Wesser, Time Life Pictures/Getty Images. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________

The history of Rochioli Vineyards goes back to the late 1930s, when Joe Rochioli Sr, began buying land in Sonoma County’s Russian River Valley. He began planting vines in 1959; now the family owns about 118 acres, concentrating on sauvignon blanc, chardonnay and pinot noir. The winery is run by Joe Rochioli Jr., with his son Tom as winemaker. Production is about 10,000 cases annually. Besides the estate wines, Rochioli makes a number of highly coveted limited edition single-vineyard wines available through a mailing list that has a five-year wait.

Rochioli wines have a tremendous reputation, one that must be the envy of many wineries in the Russian River Valley, not to say the entire state. I have tasted the sauvignon blanc in the past, but not the chardonnay or pinot noir. While I found the pinot completely wonderful, in fact one of the supreme examples of the grape made in California, I was dismayed by the oak influence and lack of integration in the sauvignon blanc, particularly, and the chardonnay. I am distinctly in the minority in this evaluation; these wines receive ecstatic reviews. According to my palate, however, there’s an unaccountable issue of balance.
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Let’s start with the “No.”

You wouldn’t think that the oak treatment for the Rochioli Estate Sauvignon Blanc 2008, Russian River Valley, was heavy-handed. Indeed, only 20 percent of the wine was fermented in French oak and then spent 50 days, a hair over four months, in barrel; the rest was in stainless steel. Yet the oak kills the wine. Here are my notes, verbatim: “Such class & breeding — lots of structure — v. spicy — supple oak — definitely enclosed in oak — roasted lemon & lemon curd –just has more oak than the fruit can carry”. I stayed with this wine for an hour or so, and then wrote, in a different color ink, below my initial notes, “too much oak, robs the wine of charm & appeal”.

Indeed, my first impression was of suavity, elegance and smoothness, but that optimism was quickly tempered and then eradicated by the oak that masked what would have been the wine’s virtues. This is a shame; 40 percent of the grapes came from a 50-year-old vineyard and another 26 percent from a 24-year-old hillside vineyard. Obviously a great deal of thought went into the wine’s composition, but the “intense, complex and richly flavored wine” I should have encountered, according to the technical sheet, could not be felt through the barrier of wood. I expected more balance and integration. 1,300 cases. A disappointment. About $35.
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Here’s the “Maybe.”

The Rochioli Estate Chardonnay 2008, Russian River Valley, begins with a radiant mild gold color. Scents of classic grapefruit and pineapple are woven with hints of clove and ginger, with a touch of candied grapefruit (tantalizing and bright) and limestone in the background; the subtlest whiff of oak provides interest. So far, so good, but in the back of your month you feel the oak, and it expands forward, filling the mouth, and after a few minutes this chardonnay smells like oak too, woody and spicy and blond. “Too much,” say my notes, but the wine calms down in 30 to 45 minutes, and perhaps all is not lost, as it begins to smooth out. There’s taut authority here, vibrant acidity and some Chablis-like gunflint and earthiness, and a welcome sense of generosity in the spicy stone-fruit flavors. Yet a Burgundian chardonnay, the obvious model, would display its oak more judiciously, which is to say that oak would not be on display at all. This is, then, a multifaceted wine, a few of whose facets seem muted because of wood. Some of you may say, “FK, this is a stylistic argument. There are those who like to smell and taste wood in their chardonnays.” I think those people are wrong. Very Good+. About $50.
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Now, the “Yes.”

Having been Bad Cop so far in this post, I magically become Good Cop, because the Rochioli Estate Pinot Noir 2007, Russian River Valley, may serve as a pertinent example of what the pinot noir grape may accomplish at the highest level of purity, authenticity and balance. The color is an entrancing cerise with a hint of magenta at the rim; the bouquet teems with a remarkably intense melange of slightly macerated black cherry, mulberry and cranberry enhanced by penetrating elements of spice and shale-like minerality. It takes a few moments in the glass for the spiciness to resolve into cloves and white pepper, and indeed, the wine unfolds in leisurely fashion, revealing, after 30 minutes or so, a subtle note of dried lavender and rose petals. There’s nothing deeply extracted or forced here; one feels, instead, a nuanced marriage of power and elegance, a tissue of delicacies woven into a fabric of chaste animation. Oak — 15 months in French barrels, 35 percent new –gently lends the wine shape and gravity, allowing resonant acidity to enliven a lovely, satiny texture. Satiny, yet spare; this is not one of those opulent California pinots that drugs the palate with epic allure; not a full-blown concerto but a nocturne, played with commanding restraint. Toward the finish, this pinot noir’s black cherry and plum flavors take on the slightly roughed edges of briers and brambles, and the wine concludes with a touch of mossy, mushroomy earthiness. Drink now through 2014 or ’15. Production was 1,200 cases. Exceptional. About $60.
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Since I received these samples for review from Rochioli, the Sauvignon Blanc 2009 and the Pinot Noir 2008 have been released.
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We don’t buy catfish often. In fact, the last time we cooked catfish was probably 10 years ago for a dinner party, and that was a Charlie Trotter recipe for Wok-Smoked Catfish with Sweet-and-Sour Fennel and Kumquat Sauce, a terrific dish from The Kitchen Sessions (Ten Speed Press, 1999), one of the “easy” Charlie Trotter cookbooks, as opposed to the “really hard” original series of Trotter’s cookbooks. Anyway, the truth about catfish is that you can raise them in man-made ponds and nurture them on the most nutritious food, but the bewhiskered little fuckers still taste like bottom-feeders. Which, of course, is part of their unique charm. Which people north of the Mason-Dixon line and west of the Mississippi River probably don’t get.

Anyway, the fishmonger at the Memphis Farmers Market had catfish last week, and we thought, “Oh, what the hell.” So, LL dipped the catfish fillets in milk and then panko bread crumbs and seared them in a hot cast-iron skillet, and when they were nice and crusty and brown, she took them out and fried some slices of onion. I sliced a couple of ciabatta rolls, smeared them with remoulade sauce and put a slice of tomato on each. The catfish fillets went on top and then the fried onions. Definitely catfish and definitely delicious, though, yep, a little funky and earthy as only catfish can be. As LL said, as we were eagerly chowing down, “You wouldn’t mistake this for anything but catfish.”

I opened a bottle of the Clayhouse Sauvignon Blanc 2008, Paso Robles. Made almost all in stainless steel — a whisper of 2 percent is barrel-fermented — this wine is fresh, clean and lemony, through which qualities are woven hints of almond and almond blossom, quince and jasmine. Yeah, it’s pretty darned pretty. Totally dry, crisp as the click of a finger-snap, the Clayhouse Sauvignon Blanc 08 offers pear and melon flavors with a touch of leafy fig and lemon curd, whatever richness it shows off-set by the presence of some astringent floral aspect and the slight bracing bitterness of a finish infused with grapefruit and limestone, all of this wrapped is an appealing, close to talc-like texture, balanced, again, by that vibrant acidity, and could this sentence possibly be any longer? Real class and breeding for the price. Excellent. About $14, a Great Bargain.

The remoulade sauce on these catfish sandwiches was fairly spicy, and this wine handled that spiciness and the earthiness of the catfish handily.

The next morning, while LL was at work, I made a white bean and turnip greens soup, using a recipe from a book we have leaned upon for years, Chez Panisse Vegetables by Alice Waters (HarperCollins, 1996). The cannellini beans had already soaked overnight. It’s a fairly standard procedure, with garlic, onions and carrots, a piece of prosciutto, tomatoes, chicken stock and so on. You add the chopped greens about 20 minutes before serving and then garnish the soup with fried sage and shaved Parmesan cheese. It made a delicious lunch — we ate outside though it was a bit chilly — and finished the bottle of Clayhouse Sauvignon Blanc 08 from the previous night, which provided a satisfying accompaniment to the hearty, flavorful soup, particularly as a foil to the earthy, slightly bitter greens.