Say you’ve been really good this year, or pretty damned good, or you tried to be good and achieved the 80th percentile. I mean, that’s not so bad. It wouldn’t get you into graduate school on the GRE, but in terms of human behavior in a wicked world, even that level of goodness deserves some reward.

Or say that this was a year of good things. You ran the race, closed the deal, finished the book, beat the rap, and you want to give something impressive (but not a boat) to your trainer, your partner, your agent, your lawyer.

Look to one (or some, what the hell) of these “Twelve Great Wines” reviewed in this Featured Article on KoeppelOnWine.com. Prices go from about $45 to $350, so there’s a wide range of choice. The regions are California; Bordeaux, Burgundy, Champagne and the Rhone Valley in France; Tuscany and Alto Adige in Italy; and Hungary, in case geography plays any part in your selection. I’ve included two labesl here as a hint about the kinds of wines these “Twelve Great Wines” are.

What makes these wines great?

Well, the fact that they are unique, pure and intense expressions of a place and a grape (or grapes); that they embody every principle of balance and harmony and completeness along with some wild eloquence, some extra element of personality and character; the fact that they are downright delicious as well as profound, and it’s true that some of them won’t really be ready to consume for another five to eight years.

So go for it! Reward yourself! Make someone else happy! Isn’t it about time?

And on Friday will come, on this blog, a case of wine for Christmas giving or getting or drinking, 12 bottles each under 20 dollars. I’m working on that now.

For Ken & Terry.

So, finally we’re having seasonable weather in Memphis, after a horrendous August and a hotter-than-usual September. It’s a beautiful, clear, slightly warm Sunday afternoon, and we’re still on the screened porch, reading The New York Times and watching the dogs gambol about the backyard or collapse on the grass, as if fallen from an airplane, to snooze in the sun. Maybe a little lunch would be appropriate, not really lunch, but something halfway between lunch and a snack.

So I go into the kitchen and start putting things together. When we were in New York last month, we went to Buon Italiano in Chelsea Market and stocked up on meats and cheeses (and a jar of ravishing lime blossom honey). I slice some sopressata, some speck and some coppa, slice a baguette, put some nicoise olives and roasted red pepper on the platter. Pour some olive oil — the bright, rich Prato Lungo from Long Meadow Ranch Winery in Napa Valley — in a little bowl.

We need wine, of course, so I open a bottle of the Castello di Volpaia Chianti Classico 2004 (about $23).

This is pretty damned perfect. That’s the east side of our backyard, seen from the porch, with three tall, pale, slender sycamore trees that we love.

The salumi are wonderful, probably the best we’ve ever had. The speck is dense, almost lush in texture, like prosciutto in flavor but darker and more intense. The sopressata is hard, nutty, spicy; it’s great on pizza. The coppa is smoky, ripely meaty and earthy.

The Volpaia Chianti Classico 2004 is indeed classic, a delicious melange of vivid black currant, black raspberry and plum flavors with spiced tea, potpourri, lively acid and grainy, chewy tannins. The wine sees no new oak or small barrels, aging 14 months in Slovenian casks for subtle wood notes and a robust structure.

Back in June, I gave LL a birdfeeder for her birthday, which I set up near the west side of our screened porch. Watching the birds come to the feeder, observing their habits and manners and colors and the playing out of status — they’re like dogs that way — have given us hours of amusement and pleasure. We have house finches, cow-birds, red-bellied and downy woodpeckers, tufted titmice, Carolina chickadees, blue jays (the court jesters), mourning doves and so on. About the third week of September, though, most of the birds vanished. What’s up with that? I mean, they’re already south. How far south do they have to go?

We still had our two pairs of cardinals, though, the brash crimson males with their black masks and conical hats, the kings of our yard, and the softer, more muted females. They are monogamous and non-migratory.

Anyway, so here we are, a brilliant Sunday afternoon, a nice snack and wine, the newspapers.

Then there’s a commotion, over to our left, in some shrubbery. Four of the dogs — Tessa, the fifth dog, has to stay in her own yard because she and the boss-dog, Grace Slick, have terrible fights — are circling around, jumping back and forth, barking. Suddenly, LL cries, “Rosie, no!” and there’s Rose, the small black chow, running around, shaking something that looks like a limp red rag in her mouth. We rush out of the porch and run to where the dogs are watching Rose, who leaps back and forth shaking what is, of course, one of the male cardinals. Too late for the bird. I get a shovel from the garage, shoo Rose away — she doesn’t want to give up her prize — scoop up what is hardly recognizable as a bird now, and drop him in the trash bin.

Well, this is really sad. Now there’s a cardinal widow; what will she do? Somehow, considering this day, I can’t help thinking about Dutch still-life paintings from the 17th century, those intricate marvels of bountiful hedonism, overflowing with fruit and vegetables, meat, fish and seafood, carafes of wine, silver platters and goblets, heaps of flowers, unalloyed tributes to the pleasures of the body. But there’s always a tiny detail that gives us pause: A moldy lemon on the fruit tray; a fly, rendered in such exquisite detail that you can almost hear it buzz; a few wilted flowers in the bouquet, all serving to remind us that in the midst of life’s generous offerings and pleasures, decay, dissolution and death still reign supreme, that everything organic, living, material comes to the same end, including dogs, birds and us.

Still, until all the food is eaten and all the wine consumed, until all the lovely Sunday afternoons vanish, and dogs and cats and birds are forgotten, and music is silent and poems are unread, and we ourselves have vanished and are forgotten — until that day, we’ll keep on exactly as we are.

Castello di Volpaia wines are imported by Wilson-Daniels, St. Helena, Ca.
The website for the olive oil is longmeadowranch.com.

When we were in New York last month, it was unseasonably and oppressively hot for the first couple of days. Then, on Wednesday, it cooled off wonderfully, turning crisp and fall-like, a perfect day to tromp around Chelsea and look at art. Which we did until about 1 o’clockwhen, famished for lunch, we dropped in at Tia Pol Bar de Tapas, a narrow, deep store-front establishment where on this fine day that French doors to the sidewalk were flung wide open.

Chelsea may have been the center of New York’s contemporary art world for more than a decade, but it’s still tough to find a place to get a decent lunch. We have eaten at Empire Diner, right across the street from Tia Pol, many times and were heartily tired of it. Likewise Botino, the old stand-by of the Art Crowd.

So it was a great pleasure to take two stools at the corner of the marble-topped bar at Tia Pol, close to the open front of the restaurant, where we could sit and watch the world and the traffic and the walkers and their dogs go by. Turns out there’s a three-course prix fixe lunch for $16. We couldn’t pass that up! Since there were two choices for each course, we ordered everything. And glasses of sangria, red wine chilled with a few ice cubes and containing a modest amount of diced apple and lemon, so the sangria was completely not sweet and not overwhelmingly fruity. It was incredibly refreshing.

Now the $16 three-course lunch is, one understands, a simple affair. First, gazpacho or blistered gernika green peppers tossed with sea salt. Second, squid with rice in a squid ink sauce or a “po’boy” with crisp squid, aioli, tomato and lettuce. Third, a Fuji apple or a dish of ice cream. Simple, yes, but well-prepared and tasty all around, even to that fresh, crisp Fuji apple.

You can see it the top image that the gazpacho was an attractive reddish-orange color and that it was pureed almost smooth, except for a couple of pieces of tomato; it was delicious. The roasted and blistered peppers were hot, salty and earthy. Squid in its ink is not the most photogenic dish on earth, as you can see, but it was tasty (and fairly chewy), while the sandwich was pretty hearty and down-to-earth. The apple, the vanilla ice cream. Everything was delightful and well-worth the price.

Next time you’re doing the art tour of Chelsea — and don’t take that assignment lightly, we covered only two streets that day — treat Tia Pol as your canteen and oasis. I know that we’ll be back.

Tia Pol is at 205 10th Avenue. Lunch is noon to 3 p.m., Tuesday through Friday, 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. Saturday and Sunday; dinner is 5:30 to 11 p.m., Monday through Thursday, 5:30 to midnight Friday, 6 to midnight Saturday and 6 to 10:30 Sunday. Call (212) 675-8805 or visit tiapol.com, where the lunch and dinner menus are displayed.

Well, readers, friends, detractors, what-have-you, BiggerThanYourHead was launched in early December 2006. Nine months later, in the middle of last week, we passed the 100,000 mark for hits. In fact today, the hit-log stands at 105,555. I know, it’s not YouTube or MySpace or Gawker — or The Pour — but it feels pretty good to me. I wanted to say thank you to everybody who read and continue to read and especially to those who leave comments, because blogging is all about call and response. So keep those cards and letters coming in and tip up a glass of great juice in honor of all wine-lovers tonight. Cheers!

Six of us gathered last Tuesday for dinner at Falai, a small, sleek, irresistible Italian restaurant on Manhattan’s Lower East Side. It was my second visit, having eaten there back in March. The diners were LL and me, our friend Julie (with whom we stayed for part of last week), Terence Hughes of mondosapore fame and his longtime partner Ken, and Gabrio Tosti, the irrepressible owner of the fine little (mainly) Italian wine store De Vino, one block north of Falai on Clinton Street. We were joined later — hours later; it was a long riotous meal — by Gian Luigi Maravalle, proprietor of Tenuta Vitalonga in western Umbria, whose plane was late and whose luggage was lost.

Chef at the restaurant is Iacopo Falai, whose talent is for taking traditional ingredients of northern Italian cuisine, adding a sly inventive touch here and a sly inventive touch there and coming up with food that is delicious and memorable without being cute and tricky. After quite a bit of discussion and diplomacy, the table decided to order the prix fixe menu; here were the choices — Antipasto: Polenta Bianca (chicken liver, dried dates and wild mushrooms “Vellutata”) OR baby octopus with fresh celery, string beans, Granny Smith apples, American caviar. Pasta: Gnudi of ricotta cheese, baby spinach, brown butter, crema di latte, sage. Carne/Pesce: Manzo (petit filet, butternut squash and orange puree, blood orange fennel salad) OR Branzino (potato-wrapped sea-bass, leek, white asparagus, huckleberry sauce). Dolce: passion fruit souffle. Four courses for $55. Some members of our party tried to negotiate a menu without the gnudi, and the efficient, amenable and incredibly, infinitely patient manager Jiordona — pictured here with Terry Hughes (in his usual serious mood) — even offered such a deal at $50, but in the end, everyone got all the courses.

We began by quickly downing a bottle of the crisp, floral and delightful Ronco delle Betulle Tocai Friulano 2005 from the restaurant’s wine list ($44). After that, we consumed five bottles, two that I brought and three brought in by Gabrio. The first of Gabrio’s wines — and we pretty much scarfed this down too — was a new rosé, the fresh, delicate and tasty Whispering Angel 2006 — everybody who thinks that’s a terrible name raise your hand! — from Chateau d’Esclans in the Côtes de Provence; Sacha Lichine bought the property in 2006. This dry rosé offers whispers of crushed raspberries and strawberries and feathery hints of stones and dried flowers for pleasing effect. The high-concept label is attractive, the wine retails for about $22, and it’s the only rosé that Gabrio sells.

We drank these gentle opening salvos during talk and bread — Iacopo Falai is a former pasty chef, and the breads are excellent — and appetizers, of which the octopus got best marks. You can see from the image how great the plate looked. The baby octopus was exceedingly tender — it’s boiled first and then grilled — and the curl of celery and the slender batons of apple provided crisp contrasts in texture and fresh flavors. Not that the Polenta Bianca was any slouch. Indeed the combination of the creamy chicken livers and slightly crusty polenta with the sweet fruitiness of the dates and wild earthiness of the mushrooms was heady and flavorful, but the dish was definitely rustic compared to the finesse of the octopus.

Next came the gnudi, a carefully shaped oval-like nest of ricotto cheese and shredded, cooked spinach bathed in a nutty brown butter sauce with a touch of cream; leaning against this delicate construct was one sage leaf. Rich and creamy, these gnudi disappeared into our mouths in about three minutes, leaving us wishing that they had not vanished so quickly.

I picked up a bottle of Domaine Leccia Petra Bianca Patrimonio 1998 ($25) at Crossroads Wines & Liquors on 14th Street between Fifth and Sixth avenues at the suggestion of Nicolas Palazzi, who is French through and through yet bears the name of his father and honorable ancestors from Corsica. The Palazzi family owns Bordeaux properties in Cotes de Bourg, Entre-Deux-Mers and Graves, and Nicolas lives in New York nine months a year trying to market the wines. Anyway, he and I are email correspondents, and he, mindful of his Corsican heritage, had delved through the stock at the totally eccentric and treasure-filled wine store, found this wine and sent out a bulletin. “Petra Bianca” refers not to the wine’s color — it’s red, made from 100 percent niellucciu grapes — but to the chalky clay soil that nurtures the vineyards of Corsica’s Patrimonio region. The wine was imported by Kermit Lynch in Berkeley, Ca.

I’ll confess that I didn’t love the wine, though it was very interesting. It opened with whiffs of cedar and eucalyptus, scents of walnuts and walnut shell, dried spice and brown sugar, the sign of a mature red. In the mouth, the wine was dense and chewy, formidably tannic and sporting a startling hit of acid. It smoothed out and became more palatable in 15 or 20 minutes, but the whole time it was in my glass I kept thinking, “What happened to the fruit?” Of course, it’s nine years old; it would be instructive to try more recent vintages.

By this time, of course, our entrees had arrived. When I dined at Falai in March, I had ordered the manzo, asking for it to be cooked to medium rare, but what came to the table was medium or more. This time I ordered the beef rare, so it came to me at a perfect medium rare temperature and rosy-red color. The preparation at the end of the winter included parsnip puree, red wine-cooked shallots and wild mushrooms and a Marsala-truffle sauce; more in keeping with the season — and it was hot in New York last week — the petit filet came with a butternut squash and orange puree and a blood orange-fennel salad. It was a sumptuous yet completely balanced and appropriate presentation. I did not, alas — or I don’t remember, alas — tasting the branzino.

Next we opened the Rosso Ca’ de Merlo 1998 from Guiseppe Quintarelli, who is often called the “Master of the Veneto” or the “King of the Veneto.” This is the kind of wine that at first sniff and sip you say, “Well, here’s a once in a lifetime opportunity,” meaning that in completely the best way. This wine also came from Crossroads and cost about $76; it was imported by Robert Chadderton in New York. Despite the name, the wine has nothing to do with the merlot grape. It is, essentially, a sort of super-Valpolicella, made from corvino grapes (taken from a single hillside vineyard) in the traditional ripasso method in which the wine undergoes a second fermentation on the skins of the dried grapes used to make Amarone wines, thus providing additional strength and tannin. Nothing tannic here, however; the Rosso Ca’ de Merlo ‘98 was lovely, smooth and mellow, subtle and supple, composed of black cherry, currant and plum flavors deeply infused with dried spice, potpourri and black tea with touches of moss and clean earth. What a treat!

Not to be outdone, Gabrio rushed back to his store and returned with a bottle of the Merlanico d’Orta de Conciliis 2000, a Vino da Tavola (two-thirds merlot, one-third aglianico) produced by Lombardy’s Barone Giulio Pizzini Piomarta; the importer is Vignaioli Selections in New York. The price at Gabrio’s store is $150. This is, frankly, a stunning wine, deep and rich and flavorful, and it gets deeper and richer and more flavorful as moments pass. It opens beautifully, warmly in the glass, offering notes of cedar and tobacco, leather, toasted hazelnuts and wheatmeal, black currants and plums with hints of wild berry, earth and minerals. Retaining considerable tannins, the wine is dense and chewy, packed with spicy wood, yet generously supplied with black and red fruit flavors, that wane as the large and fairly austere finish takes over. And what a match for the medium rare beef filet!

By this time Maravalle had arrived, sans luggage and sans vino for us to try, so again Gabrio rushed over to his store to get something from Tenuta Vitalonga. He returned with a bottle of Terra di Confine 2004, a blend of 80 percent montepulciano grapes and 20 percent merlot. As Maravalle pointed out, this is a young wine from young grapes, planted only four years ago, so we were not surprised that the wine was bold and brash, wild and robust, bursting with currants, plums and dark-chocolate-covered raspberries nestled in dense, leathery tannins. Another wine destined for pairing with hearty red meat dishes, it sells for $25. I would try it from 2008 or ‘09 through 2012 or ‘14.

Were we finished?

With wine, yes, but not with dinner, because dessert came, a sumptuous, luxurious, yet light-hearted passion fruit souffle.

And then we gathered our gear, our notes, our bags and shuffled out of Falai, by far the last to leave, hoping against hope that we wouldn’t have hangovers the next day.

Falai is at 68 Clinton Street, near Rivington. Call (212) 253-1960.
De Vino is at 30 Clinton Street. Call (212) 228-0073 or visit de-vino.com.

The top image of the restaurant, shot from behind the small bar area looking toward the back, is by Jeremy Liebman for New York magazine. The rest of the images in Falai were shot by LL or FK.

A day is 24 hours, a week is seven days, but you know how they can seem longer. That’s how last week seemed, longer than it should have been. One of those weeks. Car trouble, tooth trouble, computer trouble; lots of stories and deadlines at the newspaper.

So it was a relief to be home Friday afternoon. I made a couple of bone-cold, bone-dry martinis (with twists), and we sat out on the back screened porch, finishing the New York Times, sipping those utterly transparent, heady concoctions and snacking on some Copper River sockeye salmon I had smoked over hickory wood Thursday night. I’ll confess that when we tried the salmon Thursday at dinner, I thought it was too smoky, but Friday afternoon, nibbled on a sesame flat-bread cracker, it seemed just right. Everything was very pleasant, with the dogs gamboling about, and the cats snoozing in the sun, and birds batting each other off the bird feeder, competitive little buggers.

We did that for about an hour, and LL said, “Well, that’s it, let’s go watch a movie.”

Two for the Road (1967), with Audrey Hepburn and Albert Finney had arrived from Netflix, so I cranked up the DVD player and we all gathered round to watch. It’s a pretty good movie. Hepburn is radiant and funny (and very well-dressed in cool and outrageous late ’60s haute couture), though weighed down with eyeliner and fake eyelashes, and I could do without one more peppy-sobby Henry Mancini score. Albert Finney is actually truculent and arrogant, but his character is supposed to be rather asshole-ish, but somehow lovable as far as Hepburn is concerned. The screenplay, by British writer Frederick Raphael, is sparkling and snappy and witty.

About two-thirds the way through the movie, LL said, “You know what I would like? I’d like some toast with olive oil and a glass of red wine.”

So we stopped the movie and we all trooped into the kitchen — the dogs muttering darkly, “So what the hell’s going on?” — and made some toast and drizzled it with olive oil. I went to look through the platoons of red wines standing at out beck, and saw a bottle of Caymus Special Selection Cabernet Sauvignon 2004 — still holding the price at $136, bless their hearts — and I thought, “Oh, well, jeeze, why not? It’s been a long week. We deserve it.”

So I opened the bottle and poured us each a glassful and we went back and watched the rest of the movie and ate our toast with olive oil and drank our Caymus Special Selection Cabernet Sauvignon 2004, which was fabulous, like drinking the whole history and geography and geology of the Napa Valley yet also wonderfully, monumentally flavorful.

And everything was pretty damned perfect.

Oh, the pressure!

The special present. The special flowers. The special dinner.
Special, special, special. Get it right, Bub. Or Bubbette.

Perhaps I might ease a bit of the pressure by recommending some wines to accompany that special, intense, romantic candle-lit dinner, wines that have, as it were, Valentine’s written all over them.

First, Bonny Doon’s The Heart Has Its Rieslings 2005, designated an “American Riesling” whose grapes hail from Eastern Washington, though the winery is in Santa Cruz, California. This offers a beguiling bouquet of rubber eraser and bubble gum — classic characteristics of the grape, I promise — lychee, peach and pear; it displays gratifying balance between sweetness of slightly over-ripe and spicy stone fruits with the bracing nature of lime and grapefruit and a stong limestone element. Charming and rated Very Good. Suitable as an aperitif or with spicy (but not fiery) Southeast Asian cuisine. About $14-$18.

Then, from Alsace, there’s Hugel’s Cuvee Les Amours Pinot Blanc 2004, a lovely wine, soft yet crisp, delivering tasty pear and melon scents and flavors touched with almond and almond blossom, and permeated by heaps of limestone and chalk for a dry and slightly austere finish. Try with fresh oysters or mussels or grilled trout. Very Good+. About $15.

We don’t see many rose wines from Bordeaux, but the style is allowed in the general Bordeaux appellation. The Oriel “Femme Fatale” 2004, made from 100 percent merlot grapes, is a dark melon-cherry color. It bursts with scents of fresh and macerated strawberries, raspberries and currants, to which, in the mouth, are added touches of spiced tea and orange rind. The wine sports a seductive satiny texture and a surprisingly substantial structure; it’s thoroughly dry and reveals on the finish touches of dried herbs and stones. I wouldn’t typically recommend a rose wine that’s more than two years old, but this will bring a great deal of pleasure through the end of summer 2007. Quite attractive and rated Very Good+. Try with roasted chicken, pate with crusty bread, an omelet whipped up at the last minute. About $20.

Of course we could not omit a wine with such an obviously Valentine-themed name as Saint-Amour. The area is the northernmost of the Cru Beaujolais wines, of which there are ten allowed to put the name of the village or commune on the label. The Saint-Amour 2005, from the ubiquitous Georges Duboeuf, is a striking deep ruby-purple color; it offers lovely scents and flavors of strawberries and blackberries with undertones of spiced stone fruits. It’s quite dry and minerally and is packed with a surprising amount of chewy tannins. Try with roasted chicken or veal. Very Good+. About $10-$14.

I could recommend dozens of champagnes with which to woo and wow, but I think what’s called for on this romantic occasion is something not obvious or heavy, something that doesn’t shout “Blockbuster!” but plies its winsome way more subtly. This would be Pol Roger’s Brut Vintage 1998, made from 60 percent pinot noir grapes and 40 percent chardonnay and a marvel of delectable elegance and balletic fervor. The color is an entrancing mild gold with silver overtones; the bubbles surge upward in the glass in a constant fountain. This champagne offers seamless integration of citrus and limestone, toasted hazelnuts and baking spice, a crisp, lively nature with a texture that approaches lushness, all this devolving to a finish of notable austerity. Excellent. About $83. Surely he or she is worth it.

Well, o.k., that’s pretty steep. Here’s a less expensive alternative, the Schramsberg Blanc de Noir 2003, a pinot noir (85 percent) and chardonnay (15 percent) blend and a glamorous California blond of a sparkling wine, elegant and spare, crisp and satiny, generously spicy and citrusy but with a formidable strain of limestone on the finish. Excellent and about $35.

Five days before Thanksgiving, my daughter got married, each occasion — the wedding reception and the annual feast — a welcome excuse for choosing wine to serve to family and friends, the difference being that we had 12 at Thanksgiving and 200 at the wedding.

Here are the wines I picked for the reception. My daughter wanted all French (there was sort of a French theme), and that’s what she got.

*Macon-Lugny “Les Charmes” Chardonnay 2004, Maconnais. About $10-$12. One of the world’s most dependable and tasty chardonnays.

*Les Tuileries 2005, Bordeaux blanc, a crisp and floral blend of 80% sauvignon blanc and 20% semillon. About $12.

*Chateau de Pennautier 2004, Cabardes, a robust blend of cabernet sauvignon, cabernet franc, grenache, merlot, syrah and cot, or malbec. About $10-$12.

*Le Pin Parasol Reserve Shiraz 2002, Vins de Pays d’Oc. About $10-$12. This syrah from the south of France, goofily called “shiraz” to entice consumers familiar with the inexpensive shiraz wines of Australia, was a softer and spicier counterpoint to the forthright flavors and rusticity of the Pennautier.

*Bailly-Lapierre Cremant de Bourgogne Chardonnay 2004. About $15-$19. A terrific sparkling wine with surprising character for the price; it belongs on every restaurant wine list.

Since Thanksgiving is a thoroughly American holiday and banquet, I always serve a variety of American wines, trying to appeal to a range of tastes. I wish that I could include wines from New York and Virginia and Michigan and so on, but outside of New York and Virginia and Michigan and so on, such wines are hard to come by. Anyway, here was our wine roster for Thanksgiving:

*Heller Estate Chenin Blanc 2005, Carmel Valley. About $22-$25. The best chenin blanc made in California.

*Trefethen Dry Riesling 2005, Napa Valley. About $16-$19. This scintillating and authentic riesling surprised me by being the hit of the dinner; people kept asking for more.

*Ridge Vineyards “Three Valley” 2004, Sonoma County. A blend of zinfandel (68%), carignane (11). syrah (10), petite sirah (7) and grenache (4) that boldly faced up to the Thanksgiving feast’s multitude of flavors, spices and textures. And it was great the next day with left-overs.

*Domaine Serene “Yamhill Cuvee” Pinot Noir 2004, Willamette Valley, Oregon. About $28-$33. A pretty damned perfect pinot noir (and Domaine Serene’s least expensive pinot), one bottle fine with dinner, the next wonderful with left-overs a few days later. Go figure.

*Beringer Nightingale 1997, Napa Valley. I had been saving this blend of 70% semillon and 30% sauvignon blanc since it was released. Its unctuous combination of roasted peaches and apricots, muscat-like floral elements and a sort of liquid bananas Foster quality were terrific with the pumpkin and pecan pies.

That measured out as a week and more of great eating and wine-drinking. And my birthday, Christmas and New Year Years are coming right up! One has to plan ahead for these things!