Well, darnit, it’s a gloomy, drippy day in our neck o’ the woods, and I hope the weather is better wherever My Readers find themselves. In recompense or hope, I offer a delightful, inexpensive white wine from Spain’s Rioja region, If this one doesn’t lift your spirits, you have a heart of stone, and I’m unfriending you right now. The CVNE Monopole 2015 is made from the indigenous viura grape, not a grape we tend to rave on all night about but one that certainly performs handily when treated with thoughtful simplicity. (CVNE, by the way, stands for Compania Vinicola del Norte de Espana, is often written as CUNE, and is pronounced “koo-nay.”) The color is very pale straw-gold; aromas of green apple, roasted lemon and lime peel are highlighted by notes of jasmine and honeysuckle, acacia and almond skin. The texture is sleek and silky, buoying tasty stone-fruit and citrus flavors, animated by bright acidity and touches of limestone minerality and brisk salinity that foreshadow the wine’s appropriateness with fresh seafood or with shrimp or chicken salad or, in general, with all sorts of lighthearted picnic fare. 13 percent alcohol. This vintage marks the 100th anniversary of the production of this wine, the first made in Rioja. Drink now through 2017. Very Good+. About $13, marking Excellent Value.

Imported by Skurnik Wines, New York. A sample for review.

Pat and Joe Campbell founded Elk Cove Vineyards in 1974, establishing them among a handful of Willamette Valley, Oregon, pioneers such as Erath, Ponzi, Amity, Sokol Blosser and Adelsheim, also launched in the 1970s. The winery focuses on pinot noir as its red wine and two other “pinots” — gris and blanc — as their whites. Winemaker since 1995 has been Pat and Joe’s son Adam Campbell. Our foray today, in this 15th entry into reviewing one wine every day, is the Elk Cove Pinot Gris 2014, carrying the Willamette Valley designation. Seeing only stainless steel, with no oak influence, this pinot gris offers the pleasing paradox of delicacy and prettiness embodied in blazing purity and intensity. The color is pale straw-gold; finely-knit aromas of jasmine and almond blossom, spiced pear and lime peel are highlighted by notes of grapefruit and damp limestone; the stony factor becomes a dominant motif on the palate, in the form of chalk and flint elements, while shivery acidity cuts a swath through a lovely talc-like texture and spare tones of pear and grapefruit. The austere finish — savory, saline, chiseled — resonates with touches of grapefruit rind, almond skin and limestone. 13 percent alcohol. The first thought regarding this wine is fresh oysters, succulent and briny; the second thought is grilled scallops or mussels in a mignonette sauce. Drink now through 2016 or ’17. Excellent. About $19.

A sample for review.

Dear Readers, you have surely noticed, doubtless with mounting alarm, the absence of this blog from the airwaves. This hiatus will continue for an indefinite period of time due to a broken arm that I stupidly acquired last weekend. That appendage being the right arm, I find myself in the position of neither being able to open a wine bottle nor lift a glass of wine nor take notes. Anyway, my medications all forbid the consumption of alcoholic beverages. I am by the way writing this bulletin with one finger of my left hand; you could watch an episode of Games of Thrones in a shorter span. I hope to have cast off and stitches out soon, but I don’t know when I will return to serious work. Bear with me. Cheers!

I have used Wordsworth’s lines so often — “The world is too much with us, late and soon, getting and spending, we lay waste our powers” — that I won’t allude to them on this occasion but merely issue an apology and assert that sometimes I just can’t keep up with tasting and writing. In fact, this post is probably the first in a series of “mea culpa” catch-up entries that I will issue over the next few weeks — if I have time. Ha-ha! These wines, a miscellaneous dozen from California, 11 red, one white, were all samples for review.

Amapola Creek Monte Rosso Vineyard “Vinas Antiguas” Zinfandel 2011, Sonoma Valley. Winemaker Dick Arrowood mixed 5 percent petite sirah to this zinfandel derived from one of Sonoma County’s legendary vineyards, where the zinfandel vines are 118 years old. The wine aged 15 months in a combination of new and used French and American oak barrels. Generally, I have been a fan of Arrowood’s efforts at Amapola Creek, rating everything I have tasted either Excellent or Exceptional. The exception, however, will be this example, because the heat and sweetness from 15.5 percent alcohol tip the wine off balance and render it into a clunky blockbuster. That’s a shame, because such details as its melange of ripe and spicy black currants and blueberries, cloves, sandalwood and smoked fennel and a chiseled granitic quality would have been gratifying in a different package. Production was 310 cases. Not recommended. About $42.

Amici Pinot Noir 2012, Russian River Valley, Sonoma County. There’s an aspect of darkness about this (nonetheless) winsome pinot noir: a dark ruby color; a certain dark shading in its spicy elements of cloves and sandalwood; the smokiness of its black cherry scents and flavors hinting at currants and raspberries; the earthiness of its brier-brambly structure. The lovely texture, though, is all warm satin, while bright acidity keeps it lively and quaffable. Alcohol content is 14.8 percent. Production was 1,300 cases. Very Good+. About $35.

Bonny Doon Vineyards Le Cigare Blanc reserve 2011, Arroyo Seco. The blend for this highly aromatic wine is 62 percent grenache blanc and 38 percent roussanne, from the Beeswax Vineyard; the grapes were fermented together in stainless steel and aged in five-gallon glass carboys, also called demijohns or bonbonnes, of the sort typically employed in home brewing and winemaking. The color is very pale gold, and it seems to shimmer in the glass. All of the lemon kingdom has assembled here in its guises of roasted lemon, lemon balm and lemon curd, highlighted by notes of quince and ginger, lanolin, lilac and camellia. It’s a savory and saline wine, spare, lean and supple and quite dry yet generous with its citrus flavors that delve a bit into stone-fruit. The entire package is animated by crystalline acidity and crackling limestone minerality. Alcohol content is a pleasing 12.5 percent. Production was 480 cases. Excellent. About $54.
Daou Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon 2011, Paso Robles. The wine is a blend of 79 percent cabernet sauvignon, 7 percent cabernet franc, 5 percent merlot and 9 percent petit verdot that spent 19 months in French oak barrels, 80 percent new. The color is very dark ruby-purple, almost opaque; seductive aromas of spiced, macerated and slightly roasted black cherries and raspberries are permeated by notes of graphite, cedar and tobacco and a hint of rosemary’s brash resiny quality; a few moments in the glass bring in touches of black olive and loam. This is a solid, tannic, granitic-based wine, spare and dusty and quite dry but with plenty of ripe black and blue fruit flavors; fairly rock-ribbed presently, it needs a lot of air to unfurl its attractions. 14.2 percent alcohol. Try from 2016 or ’17 through 2021 to ’25. Excellent. About $56.

Davies Vineyards Nobles Vineyard Pinot Noir 2012, Sonoma Coast. This pinot noir, which aged 15 months in 41 percent new French oak barrels, originated from an area of the Sonoma Coast region recently designated as the Fort Ross-Seaview AVA. Don’t be surprised if in the coming years we see more segments of the vast Sonoma Coast fragmented into smaller AVAs; Petaluma Gap, anyone? The color is a beguiling medium ruby hue, though that limpidity is belied by the wine’s sense of power and muscularity; this is intensely spicy, bursting with ripe and macerated black cherry and plum fruit, while a few minutes in the glass bring up pungent notes of old leather and pomegranate. It’s a fairly dense and chewy wine, displaying incisive graphite minerality and acidity that I can only call flaring and buoyant. Quite a performance on pinot noir’s dark side. 14 percent alcohol. Production was 550 cases. Drink now through 2018 to 2020. Excellent. About $55.

Davies Vineyards Ferrington Vineyard Pinot Noir 2012, Anderson Valley, Mendocino County. Here’s a pinot that’s a bit more to my taste than the Davies Vineyards Nobles Vineyard Pinot Noir 2012 mentioned above, at least in terms of style. This spend 15 months in French oak, 22 percent new barrels. The color is a transparent medium ruby, and the first impression is of the earth, with rooty and loamy aspects under briers and brambles; then come black and red cherries and currents segueing to dusty plums, smoky sassafras and exotic spices like sandalwood and cloves. Within this sensual panoply expands a core of nuance — lavender, violets, a bare hint of beet-root — and clean bright acidity. 14 percent alcohol. Production was 400 cases. Drink now through 2018 to 2020. Excellent. About $55.

Dunstan Durell Vineyard Pinot Noir 2011. Sonoma Coast. The color is dark ruby with a mulberry tinge. I would say that this pinot noir displays glorious purity, intensity and clarity, but “glorious” implies an emphatic nature that I want to avoid; let’s say, instead, that it’s perfect and adorable in the expression of those qualities. Aromas of red and black cherries and currants are imbued with notes of cloves and sandalwood, sassafras, rose petals and violets, with undertones of briers, brambles and loam, all amounting to a seamless marriage of elegance and power. The texture is supremely satiny, rolling across the palate like liquid money, but the wine’s ripe and spicy black and red fruit flavors are buoyed by slightly leathery tannins and back-notes of polished oak, the whole effect enlivened by fleet acidity. 14.5% alcohol. Excellent. About $55.

Gallo Signature Series Pinot Noir 2011, Santa Lucia Highlands, Monterey County. Gina Gallo employed grapes from the family’s Olson Ranch Vineyard to craft this well-made but not compelling pinot noir that aged eight months in a mixture of new and used French oak barrels. The color shades from dark to medium ruby at the rim; aromas of black cherries and cranberries, smoke and loam, cloves and pomegranate characterize the attractive bouquet, while on the palate the wine is satiny smooth and supple; a few minutes in the glass bring out pretty floral elements. 14.2 percent alcohol. Drink now through 2016 or ’17. Very Good+. About $35.
Pedroncelli Mother Clone Zinfandel 2012, Dry Creek Valley, Sonoma County. The “mother clone” of this wine is a vineyard planted to zinfandel vines since 1904; some of those grapes are included here. Other parts of the vineyard represent the second generation of vines cloned from the original plants, all blended here with six percent petite sirah grapes. The wine aged 11 months in American oak, 30 percent new barrels. The color is dark ruby with a magenta rim; pungent aromas of black currants, blackberries and blueberries feel warm and spicy but with edges of graphite, briers and brambles. Bright acidity brings liveliness to dense dusty tannins and a slightly chiseled granitic minerality that testifies to the wine’s origin in an old hillside vineyard; however, black fruit flavors are equally bright and faceted, gradually opening to touches of lavender, licorice and bitter chocolate. Alcohol content is 14.8 percent. Drink now through 2018 to 2020. Excellent. About $18, representing Great Value.

Sanctuary Bien Nacido Vineyard Pinot Noir 2012, Santa Maria Valley. This is a beautiful pinot noir in every sense, from its lovely transparent medium ruby-cherry hue, to its bouquet permeated by notes of spiced and macerated red and black currants and cherries, with hints of rhubarb and cranberry, tobacco leaf and cigarette paper, to its subtle undertones of loam and moss and brambles, to its seductive satiny texture. 14.5 percent alcohol. Production was 841 cases. Drink now through 2017 or ’18. Excellent. About $40.

Silverado Vineyards Mt George Merlot 2010, Napa Valley. This classically balanced and structured wine is a blend of 77% merlot, 19% cabernet sauvignon, 4% malbec, 1% petit verdot. (Yeah, that’s 101 percent.) The color is very dark ruby-purple, verily, verging even unto motor-oil black; it’s quite pungent, unleashing penetrating aromas of ripe, meaty and fleshy black cherries and raspberries bursting with notes of cassis and black olives, bell pepper and tobacco. Chiseled and polished graphite rules the day, with hints of iodine and saline qualities, earth and loam; the texture is supple, lithe, dense and chewy, yet somehow refined and elegant, never forgetting its obligation to beautiful but not showy black and red fruit flavors. 14.9 percent alcohol. A terrific, finely-honed and tuned merlot that displays great character. Drink now through 2018 to 2022. Excellent. About $35.
Steven Kent Winery Cabernet Sauvignon 2011, Livermore Valley. The blend here is 88 percent cabernet sauvignon, 5
percent each petit verdot and merlot and 2 percent cabernet franc; the wine aged 24 months in 60 percent new oak barrels, mostly French with a small portion of American oak from the Appalachians. A dark ruby hue transcends inky purple; the bouquet is clean and fresh, very cherry-berry with some raspberries and their sense of faint raspiness, briers and brambles in the background, with an intensifying element of violets, lavender and potpourri. This panoply of sensual pleasures doesn’t quite prepare your palate for the rush of dusty tannins, the wheatmeal and walnut-shell austerity, the espresso and graphite elements that characterize the wine’s passage through the mouth. Still, coming back to it in an hour or so reveals its expression of a more approachable side, so give it a chance. A nicely manageable 13.5% alcohol. Production was 983 cases. Excellent potential, 2016 or ’17 through 2020 to ’24. About $48.

In June I spent three days in North Yuba, a sub-appellation of the Sierra Foothills, about an hour’s drive north of Sacramento, for a brief immersion into the situation of Renaissance Vineyard and Winery and the other wineries and properties in the area. The first task of my visit was devoted to a day-long tasting of RVW library wines, a fairly astonishing collections of thousands of bottles going back to the early 1980s. Not surprisingly, the winery would like to sell these wines, which themselves are a pretty astonishing reflection of quality, integrity and single-minded devotion to an ideal. The winery staff was quite open in its expectation for my visit and looked to me for recommendations about how to market these wines and for the direction RVW should take to make their products more appealing to consumers. This sort of consulting work is not typically the position I find myself in when visiting a vineyard and wine region, but I felt that I had to take these expectations seriously. Here, by the way, are links to my two-part posting on the tasting: Cabernet-based reds and White table and dessert wines.
(Image of Sierra Foothills counties from 1916, courtesy of quarriesandbeyond.org.)
How is the winery going to divest itself of this tremendous store of library wines dating back to the early 1980s? By conveying a sense of a narrative that focuses on the winemakers, the terroir of the property and the quality and character of the wines. It’s a truism of today’s wine market that consumers, especially under the age of 35, are attracted to wines that possess a back-story, whether it’s a unique history or location, whether there’s an interesting aspect to the personalities involved or to the winemaking process. To reach to the contemporary audience, Renaissance needs to do what it has never done in its almost 40-year chronicle: Hire an outside marketing agency to craft this narrative and package the wines for sale to a particular stratum of restaurants and retail outlets. The advantage for restaurants would be that they could offer aged wines on their lists without having to serve them before they’re ready to drink or store them for a decade, the latter a prospect that few restaurants have the space for or can afford. Imagine being able to recommend the Renaissance Late Harvest Sauvignon Blanc 1989 or the Riesling 2002 or the Estate Cabernets from 1994, ’93 and ’91, all drinking perfectly now, to discerning palates.

This marketing agency could create, indeed with no embellishment, a fascinating narrative about a succession of fanatical winemakers dedicated to low alcohol content, little or no new oak, Old World techniques and organic methods. Imagine the appeal to collectors of a package that included cabernet-based wines from the 1980s, 90s and 2000s made by original winemaker Carl Werner; his wife Diana, who became winemaker when Werner died in 1988; and Gideon Beinstock, winemaker from 1994 to 2011, or of the winery’s late harvest dessert wines. The ability to taste such wines and compare them is invaluable. The fact that Carl Werner’s cabernets from years such as 1983 and 1984 are just coming round to a drinkable state, having shed their considerable tannins, creates a unique opportunity in California. It doesn’t hurt that Renaissance is located not in Napa Valley or Sonoma but in North Yuba in the Sierra Foothills, a region that may lack the glamor and recognition of better-known areas but offers the attraction and authenticity of laboring in obscurity and even a tinge of stubbornness.

A variety of ways exist through which a wine-savvy marketing agency could package and promote these wines to retailers and the restaurant trade, but Greg Holman, president of RVW, and his staff would have to be receptive to suggestions and new ideas and willing to make the financial outlay necessary.

And what about the future?

First, trim the line. RVW offers four cabernet sauvignon or cabernet-based wines — the “regular” cabernet sauvignon, a Reserve bottling, the Claret Prestige and the Vin de Terroir — and four Rhone-inspired red wines, a single-variety syrah and the blends La Provencal, Mediterranean Red and Granite Crown. Asking consumers to understand the differences among these wines and their motivations leads to confusion and indifference. Perhaps limiting these labels to a regular and reserve cabernet and one Rhone-style blend in addition to the syrah would clarify matters.

Second, engage in a major label revamp, another task for a marketing or design firm. Let’s face it, while the Renaissance label may be dignified, it’s also stodgy and bland. I don’t advocate changing a label design whenever the vagaries of fashion seem to dictate, and I admire wineries like Grgich Hills, for example, for staying with an uncluttered, elegant and easily identifiable label. The retention of the Renaissance label, however, feels more like habit than devotion, and I would say that it’s time for a shake-up. Keep the initial “R,” or a version of it, with its hint of antique finery, but clarify, simplify and modernize the rest.

Third, update the winery website with better graphic elements, a more compelling design, pictures of the winery and the estate, and, speaking selfishly, a section for Trade & Press where images and technical information can easily be obtained. A website and an active blog increasingly are part of a winery’s story.

The Jameson brand represents the largest-selling Irish whiskey in the world. The company was founded in Dublin in 1780 by (of all things) Scotsman John Jameson. Its parent entity is Irish Distillers Corp, formed in 1966, which in turn was acquired by Pernod-Ricard in 1988. Pernod-Ricard encompasses 36 spirits and wine brands that include Absolut, Chivas Regal, Ballantine’s Scotch, Beefeater Gin, Jameson, Kahlua, The Glenlivet, G.H. Mumm and Perrier-Jouet. Let me know if you haven’t heard of any of those names. The company owns 96 production sites in 23 countries, according to its annual report for 2012-13. Total assets currently are $8.72 billion, according to Market Watch. Pernod-Ricard is, in other words, a company that possesses worldwide depth and breadth, mega-clout and the dinero to back up its claims.

Jamieson Ranch Vineyards is a winery located in the Napa Valley, in fact the southernmost winery in the appellation. Formerly known as Kirkland Ranch Winery and Reata Vineyard, the company changed its name to Jamieson Ranch in 2013; it happens to be located on Jameson (not Jamieson) Canyon Road. The history of the property is tangled, involving dubious business decisions going back to the late 1990s and bankruptcy filings, but it is owned now by Madison Vineyard Holdings of Greenwood Village, Colorado, a company involved in myriad enterprises including high-end art storage in New York. Jamieson Ranch produces about 35,000 cases annually under its eponymous label, retaining the Reata name for some pinot noirs and chardonnays, and uses the Light Horse brand for inexpensive products. Prices for the Jamieson and Reata wines range from about $24 to $60. Assets of Madison Vineyard Holdings, according to the company’s website, are $250 million.

Early this year, Irish Distillers sent a cease-and-desist letter to Madison Vineyard Holdings, asserting that “Jamieson” is “confusingly similar” to “Jameson” and is “likely to cause consumer confusion and/or the appearance that your client’s business originates from or is endorsed or authorised by Irish Distillers,” the use of which is likely to dilute the mark “Jameson.” Madison Vineyard Holdings responded by filing suit against Irish Distillers for declaratory relief, a term that is totally meaningless to me but I assume implies that there’s no danger to Jameson Irish Whiskey from Jamieson Ranch Winery and that Jameson should leave Jamieson the hell alone.

It seems to me that only people who lack the intellectual prowess to tell the difference between, say, Lady Gaga and Little Lulu — meaning lawyers — would find the labels, intentions and products of Jameson Irish Whiskey and the wines of Jamieson Ranch Vineyard “confusingly similar.”

Let’s examine the evidence.

Jameson Irish Whiskey is a distilled spirit made from grain. The alcohol content is 40 percent. It’s a rich amber-brown color. It looks and tastes nothing like wine.

The products of Jamieson Ranch Vineyards are fermented from grapes. Alcohol contents tend to be about 13.5 to 14.5 percent. Colors range from ruby-purple to pale gold. They look and taste nothing like Irish whiskey.

Additionally, distilled spirits and wine are stored in different sections of retail stores, none of which want to muddy the waters by keeping whiskey next to wine. I cannot conceive that any person would set a bottle of one next to the other and think, “Oh ho, these brands must be the same.” Despite these factors, lawyers for Pernod-Ricard are tallying the billable hours in going after a harmless gnat with a baseball bat. This rigamarole makes as much sense as a case I mentioned three years ago in which the giant Anheuser-Busch InBev went after a tiny winery in Argentina called Budini because their label would “dilute” the effect of Budweiser. The result was than Budini became Bodini. Money counts, as if you didn’t know.

Readers, today marks the 30th anniversary of my first wine column in The Commercial Appeal newspaper in Memphis. That’s right, it was July 11, 1984, and I was still a full-time college English teacher living in a dry county in Mississippi, just south of Memphis. The rest, as they say, is history but a very special and meaningful history. Thanks to Jan Smith, librarian at the newspaper, for digging up that column on microfilm and sending me a copy.

Under the headline “Wine connoisseur’s palate goes public” — I was anything but a connoisseur — I introduced myself; explained the purpose of the column, which was to appear monthly but quickly went weekly and five years later national; and provided reviews of a series of wines including several examples of vintage 1981 in Bordeaux and a group of miscellaneous products. My choice for the best price-quality ratio among the Bordeaux wines was Chateau Lynch-Moussas ’81, a wine of “balance and breeding” priced at $10 to $13. I also liked the Silverado Sauvignon Blanc 1982, Napa Valley (about $9); the Mount Veeder Late Harvest Zinfandel 1980, Napa Valley (about $10 for a half-bottle); the Domaine de la Tour d’Elyssas Vin de Syrah 1981, Coteaux du Tricastin, in the southern Rhone Valley (about $5); the Simi Cabernet Sauvignon 1979, Alexander Valley (about $9); and the Shadow Creek Brut Cuvée No. 1 (about $10).

I leapt into wine reviewing with the same approach that I take today, though I hope that 30 years have honed my palate and technique. Here’s what I wrote about the Mount Veeder Late Harvest Zinfandel 1980:

This wine is a beautiful deep purple, almost opaque; the nose is tannic and fruity and just slightly sweet; deep, complex and mouth-filling, almost thick, grapes and berries, hints of chocolate and vegetal undertones. Magnificent! Drink this with a wedge of English cheese after dinner. It should last and improve for decades.

Not bad for a beginner, I guess.

Writing about wine, first for the newspaper and the Scripps Howard News Service for 20 years, then on my old website and since December 2006 for this blog, has certainly given me the chance to taste and drink countless numbers of fine wines as well as afforded me the opportunity to travel not only to wine regions in this country but around the world. Most important, though, are the trust and the friendship that I have developed with so many people, from my local retailers and distributors to importers, producers and winemakers, public relations and marketing people and other writers and journalists — I see many of you almost daily on Facebook — to the consumers I see out and about who come over and say, “Hey, just read about this wine on your blog and went out and bought it.” All of you make this effort worth while. The awards don’t hurt either, so thank you for the confidence that those many votes expressed.

Tasting wines occurs under many circumstances and in many venues, all of which have advantages and disadvantages. Best, though, is to sit down with LL to a dinner that she cooked or perhaps we prepared together and I open a bottle of wine and pour it and we clink glasses and take a sniff and sip and say, often together, “Oh, yeah, that’s good.” I dedicate all this to her.

We’re dining with a friend tonight at an excellent restaurant, and, as is my habit, I’ll take a bottle of wine from home. “But wait!” you say. “Doesn’t this restaurant have a wine list?” Indeed it does have a wine list, and a good one, but not a great or adventurous one. I’m happy to pay a corkage fee to bring a bottle in that gives me the opportunity to try it with a variety of foods and to take a few notes. “Brown-bagging,” as the procedure used to be called, is a time-honored tradition in eating out, and while restaurateurs may grumble, it’s a way of keeping patrons happy, especially high-ticket customers that own collections of lovely old vintage wines. (Full disclosure: I’m not one of those.)

Let’s face it, most restaurants don’t store large quantities of older wines because they don’t have the space and because the wines are expensive, and they don’t buy young wines with the potential to improve with “laying down” because they can’t afford to tie up capital while the wine is aging. Depending on the state or municipality, restaurant owners can institute rules about bringing in wine but not necessarily forbid the practice. In this state, for example, according to an opinion filed on June 14, 1977, by Tennessee assistant attorney general William C. Koch Jr., “the practice of ‘brown-bagging’ is legal under state law,” and “‘brown-bagging’ is permissible as a matter of state law in all parts of the State.”

If you want to take your favorite wine or a special wine to a restaurant, though, certain forms of etiquette apply. I mean, there’s no sense in antagonizing a restaurant owner or manager just to get your way. Look at it this way: A bottle of wine brought into a restaurant by a customer makes an interruption in the (one hopes thoughtful) synergy between the cuisine and the menu, unless that customer is very knowledgeable about the menu and the wine list. Act accordingly. Here are some aspects to consider:

1. Don’t take a wine that’s on the restaurant’s wine list. That’s just tacky. Most restaurants nowadays post their menus and wine lists online; check it first.

2. Don’t take a wine that insults the restaurant. If you’re eating at a fine dining establishment that features an award-winning menu and a great, imaginative wine list, leave your plonk chardonnay and Beaujolais-Villages at home.

3. Don’t take too many wines or burden your waiter with a table loaded with your wines, as if you’re promoting your own tasting. Two bottles should be the limit, unless you have made arrangements with the manager and, preferably, occupy a private room.

4. Buy a bottle from the restaurant’s list for every bottle you bring in. After all, the restaurant needs to make something from this transaction.

5. If you’re bringing in a rare old bottle, offer a glass to the sommelier and chef or owner. If it’s Mouton-Rothschild ’29 or the like — you should be so lucky — call the restaurant and inform the manager. Don’t spring a legendary wine on the restaurant as a surprise.

6. Pay the corkage fee willingly and graciously.

7. Tip for the bottle or bottles you brought in. The waiter or sommelier made an effort to accommodate you.

8. If there’s a little wine left in the bottle, leave it for the staff.

9. Don’t actually put the wine in a brown paper bag.

Image from worldmarket.com.

In the past three days, the friendly, if not incredulous, UPS and FedEx drivers have traveled numerous times to my threshold, delivering wines for review. Almost five cases in fact. A similar circumstance prevailed last week. That’s a lot of wine, and I’m sure you understand that there’s already an enormous amount of wine in the house.

It’s easy to understand why so much vinous product is being sent to me now. The weather is perfect, neither frigid nor torrid, so wine will not be ruined during its passage, typically from the West Coast or the Northeast. I’m certain that wine reviewers exist who receive more wine than I do, but I’ll admit that the amount of wine currently stacking up chez Koeppel is overwhelming. I know, I know, unsympathetic readers are muttering, “Oh, gee, poor guy, having to drink all that free wine,” as if I actually consume the contents of every bottle and as if every wine delivered to my door is a Grand Cru Burgundy, First Growth Bordeaux or vintage Champagne. (Full disclosure: It never is.)

The idea, of course, is to taste the wine, not scarf it down, though I tend to save the best or most interesting wines for dinner. The sordid truth is most of the wine gets tasted in the kitchen, in a fairly rigid swirl-sniff-sip/spit-swallow-spit ritual and the rest of the product gets poured — oh, the horror! — into the sink. That’s the way it’s done, folks.

How do I decide what wines go through the process? As with most matters in life, there’s a hierarchy. Here, then, is an outline of how the wines I taste and write about are arranged on the priority scale. Pay heed.

1. The wines I give most attention to are those that are sent after a winery or importer’s representative or marketing person sends me an email asking if I would be interested in tasting such and such wines and may they send them to me. It helps that the wines in question embody great quality or reputation or have an intriguing geographical, historical or personal background or story. (I don’t need the whole story in that email.)

2.Second in priority are wines that arrive, whether after inquiry or not, from wineries or producers with whom I have a long record of tasting and writing about their wines.

3. Third in line are wines that arrive unheralded but that seem promising in terms of their history, heritage, geographical significance or grape make-up or that fit into whatever my present wine-tasting mode is. Yes, friends, it’s a crap-shoot.

4. Finally, down here, is the slough of plonk that makes me wonder if people who send out wine ever read this blog.

Will every wine I receive be reviewed on BTYH? Nosiree, the world does not hold enough time and space for me to accomplish that feat. In fact, I encourage people who submit wines for my perusal to remember that just as newspapers do not review all the books they are sent, so do wine writers not review all the wines delivered to their doors. Book reviewers plead eyesight; we plead the health of our livers.

I’ll admit that it’s gratifying to open a wine sent anonymously, as it were, and discover true greatness or, alternatively, true decent quaffability. In an ideal world, though, I’d like prior notice.

My Readers — I’m pleased, O.K., thrilled, to announce that BiggerThanYourHead won Best Reviews on a Wine Blog from the annual Wine Blog Awards for the third time, adding 2013 to the awards of 2009 and 2010. I’ll admit that I was becoming cynical about my efforts, my talents and writing abilities, just because, I suppose, there are so many blogs out there that review wine and assay commentary on the wine industry, that the whole endeavor, bloggers as well as audience, is getting younger, and because I thought my voice was too well known to merit much interest. So I’m doubly thrilled that people voted for this blog and for the concept of what I do here, and that is to write about individual wines and groups of wines in a way that peels back the wine to get at its essence, its heart, and to place that wine (or those wines) as much as possible in a historical, geographical, personal and technical context. Heartened by this award, I will continue to produce the same kinds of reviews and stories that I have written since this blog was launched in December 2006 and since my first print column was published in July 1984. Yep, I’m a veteran, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t love wine and all the ideas and nuances that surround each great bottle. Here’s to you, My Readers, for your confidence in me, your patience and your appreciation. Cheers, and remember always to drink sensibly and in moderation.

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