See if you can guess what wines are being considered in these reviews in the Wine Spectator, the issue of May 31.

* “Intense, with concentrated flavors of ripe pear, baked apple and apricot. Finishes with lemon curd and meringue.” Score: 90.
* “Muscular …, with rich, concentrated quince, peach, ruby grapefruit, guava and mango flavors.” Score: 94
* “Intense, with concentrated flavors of ripe peach, baked apple, apricot and spice. The long finish features lemon curd, spice and meringue.” Score: 90.
* “Full-throttle ….. Spicy and rich, with concentrated tropical fruit, glazed apricot and grapefruit flavors. Long, smoky finish, with plenty of creamy notes.” Score: 92.
* “Rich, ripe and exotic, with loads of mango, pineapple, ripe peach and guava. Viscous, with powerful, spicy notes that carry through to the long finish with plenty of hazelnut cream.” Score: 94.
* “A ripe, full-bore style, with golden raisin, baked peach, cream and spice. Shows lots of tropical fruit notes as well, including mango and guava. The rich finish features nutmeg and creme fraiche.” Score: 93
* ” … aromas and flavors of white chocolate, ripe apple, white pepper and grapefruit… The juicy finish is long, with hints or meringue and butterscotch.” Score: 93.

I know what you’re thinking: “FK, this is too easy. These are obviously reviews of huge, super-ripe, dessert-like, over-blown, over-oaked, malolactic chardonnays from California, the kind of chardonnay that the Spectator seems to adore but that millions of right-thinking men, women and children in America cannot abide.”

Wwwwrrrroooonnnngggg!!!!

No, friends, the wines given such ecstatic reviews here are not super-ripe, over-oaked, tropical chardonnays from California. They’re super-ripe, over-oaked, tropical grüner veltliner wines from Austria.

American wine drinkers had no more gotten used to the fact that the grüner veltliner (”grooner veltleener”) grape produces (or can produce) eminently refreshing, crisp delightful white wines that open to charming intimations of dried herbs (often with hints of celery and tarragon) and nose-tickling touches of white pepper, with scintillating acidity and a pronounced mineral element than producers of these wines decided that letting the grape do its job wasn’t enough. No, now they have to pump up the ripeness of the grapes and deploy every manipulative trick in the winemaker’s arsenal to infuse their wines with a sheen of artificial significance and trumped-up glamor, intended, no doubt, for some mythical “American palate.” It’s true that grüner veltliner wines can attain a smooth, subtle honeyed quality, but that may occur naturally through bottle aging.

Meringue and butterscotch? Hazelnut cream and guava? Bad chard, meet bad grüner.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Visit bonnydoonvineyard.com.

A bulletin recently published by the Office of Champagne and the Center for Wine Origins carries the title — or “hed,” as we call it in the Worshipful Company of Ink-Stain’d Wretches — “Poll Shows Majority of U.S. Wine Purchasers Against Misleading Labels.”

One would think that this issue would fall into the category of “It Goes Without Mention.” I mean, isn’t this rather like saying “Poll Shows Majority of Major League Baseball Players Against Random Drug Testing” or “Poll Shows Majority of Vegans Against Beating Baby Seals to Death”?

Anyway, according to the report, “79% agree that consumers deserve protection from deceptive claims on food and beverage labels.” Only 63 percent, however, would “support a law prohibiting misleading labels because they believe it is the best way to protect the names of wine regions around the world, including domestic names such as Napa Valley and Sonoma County.” (I love how pollsters word their questions.) You have to wonder who the 21 percent are who do not agree that consumers deserve protection from deceptive claims on food and beverage labels or the 37 percent who would not support a law prohibiting misleading labels because they believe it is the best way to protect the names of wine regions around the world etc etc. What are they feeding their children?

The Center for Wine Origins is based in Washington D.C. Financed by the European Union and the governments of France, Spain and Portugal, the CWO’s purpose is to lobby on behalf of the regions of Champagne, Sherry and Port against misuse of those widely-known terms, meaning that only products made in those regions should be called Champagne or Port or Sherry. How serious is the problem? Says the CWO: “47% of the U.S. sparkling wine market is dominated by products mislabeled ‘champagne.’” And: “4 out of every 5 bottles of ‘Sherry’ sold in our country are not products of Jerez, Spain.”

Now either the semantics or the logic is a little fuzzy here. If “47% of the U.S. sparkling wine market is dominated by products mislabeled ‘champagne,’” than 53 percent of the products are not mislabeled champagne, right? So actually the U.S. sparkling wine market is not dominated by mislabeled labels. Or am I missing the point?

But let’s get to the real point. Sparkling wine made anywhere in the world other than Champagne should not be labeled as such, and the same principle applies to Port and Sherry, as well as Chianti, Bordeaux, Burgundy, Brunello di Montalcino, Rioja and any other wine named after and associated with a definite place; those place names evoke a sense of history, tradition, technique and style that are inseparable from those places. In 2006, after years of negotiating with the EU, the United States agreed that no new labels of sparkling wine produced within our borders could use the term Champagne. The truth is that reputable producers of traditionally-made (that is in the Champagne manner of second fermentation in the bottle) sparkling wine in California, Oregon, Washington and other states had long ago abandoned the use of the name.

But large producers of bulk sparkling wines, such as E.& J. Gallo, Korbel and Cook’s, were grandfathered into the deal, so that millions of gallons of sparkling wines made in tanks and often selling for as little as $4 a bottle, as with Gallo’s Andre Champagne — the best-selling brand of sparkling wine in the country — were allowed to use the term.

By the way, urbandictionary.com lists (lower case) “andre champagne” as a verb meaning to pop open a bottle of sparkling wine, hit a girl in the eye with the cork and douse her with the foaming beverage, as in “Hey, dude, let’s andre champagne those babes!” I have simply got to get out more.

All right, let’s go ahead and say that it’s unfair that Gallo and Korbel and Cook’s are allowed to use “champagne” on their labels in defiance of the wishes of the EU and the ancient houses of Champagne. But before the CWO gets too much in a twitter, let’s remember that the person who is suddenly conscience-stricken and decides not to fling down four georges for his Andre Champagne because it is mislabled is not going to turn around and drop 50 big ones on a bottle of Pol Roger. It’s a matter of price and perspective. Pol Roger and Taittinger and Roederer and all the other venerable Champagne houses are just not going to capture the Andre market, no matter how the labels look or how they are worded.

On the other hand, a guy could be so bitter nowadays that even a bottle of Andre might look pretty good.

The announcement was made this month that the INAO, the institute that governs the appellation controlee system of vineyards and vine-growing in France, has authorized the expansion of the areas that may legitimately call themselves part of Champagne.

You must understand: This is a HUGE BIG DEAL. This NEVER HAPPENS.

The region in north-central France where the world’s best and best-known sparkling wines are made — and which alone should be entitled to the name “champagne” — was rigorously limited to 319 villages by the INAO in 1927. This recent addition of 38 villages or communes is unprecedented. The motivation lies in the increasing demand for champagne all over the world, but especially in Russia and China, those wondrous realms of new wealth. Between 2006 and 2007, sales of champagne increased 41 percent in Russian; in five years, sales of champagne have increased in China by 30 percent. There’s not enough to go around.

The INAO tentatively addressed the problem of supply and demand in 2006 by allowing, on an experimental basis, for the grape yield per hectare (about 2.47 acres) to increase from 13,000 kilos to 15,500 kilos, though the increase is supposed to be held in grower’s tanks in reserve in the event of disease, hail, frost or bad harvests. Still, evidence both historical and contemporary shows that in many cases increasing yields in vineyards (taking into account such factors as density of vines and canopy management) can result in lower quality wine.

As “TimesOnLine,” the website of The London Times said on March 14, “Permission to make champagne is almost a license to print money,” and not only because the luxurious effervescent beverage is so much in demand. Land that was previously outside the allowed areas of Champagne may increase in value as much as 200 times. Gilles Flutet, who is in charge of demarcation at INAO, was quoted in many sources as saying: “If your vines fall on the wrong side of the divide, they will be worth 5,000 euros a hectare. On the other side they will be worth a million euros.” License to print money indeed. We understand why communes have petitioned and filed law suits for years in their attempts to join the Magic Circle of Real Champagne Farmers or at least for the chance to sell their land. The fact that new law suits are being filed by land-owners and communes not admitted in the expansion — in other words, the losers — emphasizes how serious the fiduciary aspects of the situation are.

I hate to sound cynical. Obviously the INAO has spent a great deal of time researching the quality of the soil and the character of the land in the newly permitted communes, as well as the history and traditions and micro-climates of the anointed areas. In the United States, however, we have seen too often how political and commercial is the system that grants official American Viticultural Area status to regions that seem to have no real viticultural value other than the exigencies of local geography and the influence of local growers, winemakers and legislators. It would be a miracle if the INAO were immune to similar pressure. In all the stories I have read about the decision, no one is quoted as saying, “We’re doing this for the glory of our beloved Champagne region.”

It will be 10 years before grapes and juice from the 38 communes make their slow way through the traditional champagne method into bottles and thence onto the world’s retail shelves. By then, we might not care. Go ahead, throw a few more villages into the mix. Will the Russians and Chinese be able to tell the difference?

Image from istockphoto.com.

Many of the traditional grapes used to make white wine in Italy don’t take kindly to oak. Occasionally (or too frequently nowadays) one runs upon a wine that has been forced through a barrel regimen and come out like a torturous caricature of itself. You want to call Switzerland and see if somehow the Geneva Convention has been violated. The example of such a sad case is the pinot grigio mentioned below, but first take a look at a roster of completely charming, even intriguing white wines.

What’s intriguing in the bad way are the prices of several of these products. Apparently we’re seeing the reality of the dominant euro, stomping around in shiny black boots and kicking the bejesus out of the poor wimpy dollar, and the rise in the cost of oil for transportation, heating, electricity and so on. So, yeah, the first seven of these wines are terrific, but you pays yer money and you takes yer choice.

These wines are Marc de Grazia Selections, imported by Vin DiVino in Chicago. Visit marcdegrazia.com.

1. The Tavignano Verdicchio dei Castelli di Jesi Classico Superiore 2006 comes from one of Italy’s least-known regions. Marche or The Marches, occupies a long stretch of the coastal calf of Italy’s boot, between Emilia-Romagna to the north and Abruzzi to the south. Verdicchio grapes produce by far the region’s best white wines — Verdiccio dei Castelli de Jesi and Verdicchio Matelica — though that white variety is overshadowed by several reds, especially Rosso Conero, which must contain at least 85 percent montepulciano grapes. In any case, Tavignano’s Verdicchio dei Castelli di Jesi Classico Superiore 2006 is indeed a superior version. The wine is bright and clean and abounds with lemony accents that are spicy and a little roasted and buttery, though the wine balances this touch of lushness with brisk acid, bone-dryness, hints of slightly astringent dried herbs and, on the finish, a penetrating mineral quality. Delightful and versatile for spring and summer drinking. Very Good+. About $16.

2. If your memory of Frascati is of an innocuous and forgettable wine, this one may change your mind. The name is ancient and derives from the hill-town fewer than 20 miles southeast of Rome, the center of the province of Lazio (often called Latium in English). The grapes for Frascati are principally malvasia di candia, malvasia del Lazio and trebbiano bianco, with, for this wine, bombino, ottonese and cacchione; for those trying to join The Century Club of people who have experienced 100 grape varieties, Frascati offers you the chance to encounter some obscure examples.
Since 1981, Piero Costantini has worked to revive the reputation of Frascati. His Massarosso Frascati Superiore 2006 is dry and notably spicy; it’s a spare, crisp white wine, lithe and lively and supple. Scents and flavors of roasted lemon and lemon balm are infused with a strain of some astringent summer flower and touches of dried Mediterranean herbs. The finish offers more spice and layers of limestone. I’ll go Excellent on this one. About $16 and a Great Bargain.

3. The blend of grapes for the Palazzone Terre Vineate Orvieto Classico 2006 — Orvieto is a beautiful and fairly large hill-town in western Umbria — is 50% procanico, 25% grechetto, 15% verdello and 10% malvasia and drupeggio, the latter a local grape so obscure that it doesn’t show up in Oz Clarke’s Encyclopedia of Grapes. This is as pure and intense an Orvieto as I have ever tasted and also the most suave and elegant. It’s a lovely wine, delivering elements of lemon drop and orange rind, almond blossom and camellia, baking spice, hints of dried thyme and tarragon; it’s very crisp, dry and vibrant, yet smooth and slightly steely. It would be great with grilled trout or skate in a classic sauce of brown butter and capers. Excellent. About $18.

4. We go back to The Marches for the Bisci Verdicchio di Matelica 2005, a very dry, spare and sinewy wine that’s quite stony and earthy and briery, with a powerful limestone-damp granite component, scintillating acid and a finish that pulls in lemon peel and grapefruit astringency. A bit more demanding than thoroughly enjoyable, but should be terrific with fresh oysters and mussels. Very good+ About $19.

5. Perhaps the falanghina grape will make the break-through white wines of Campania, the region that extends north, east and south of Naples. Its less frequently seen name, falanghina Greco, may indicate origins in Greece. Cantina del Taburno is a significant association of 300 producers in the province of Benevento, which clusters around the city of that name inland and northeast of Naples. The Taburno Falanghina 2007 is a terrific example of the cantina’s craft. This is a lovely wine, seductive in its accents of jasmine and almond blossom, lemon and toasted almond and hints of dried thyme. In the mouth, the wine balances crispness and liveliness with a moderately lush texture, delicious flavors of roasted lemon, lemon balm and orange rind, all tied with a glint of limestone on the finish. A great bet for matching with grilled shrimp or mussels. Very good+ About $20.

6. The Serramarrocco Grillo del Barone 2006, from Sicily, 100% grillo grapes, is fermented and matured in old-fashioned concrete vats rather than stainless steel. It rated a “wow” as my first note. Shamelessly floral and spicy, the wine bursts from the glass in a welter of white flowers, dried baking spice, roasted lemon and a hint of grapefruit. “Haunting” is not a word I typically use in reviews, but this wine was strangely beguiling and intense, offering a flavor panoply of lemon in all its forms, with a touch of candied fruit, and a texture of pleasing heft and elevating powers, a combination of brisk acid and talc-like softness and a total permeation of chalk and limestone. A Great Effort. Excellent. About $26.

7. I’m sorry, but $29 is a boodle of money for any wine made from the vermentino grape, which normally produces wines that are charming and pleasant and drinkable. The Terenzuola Vermentino Fosso di Corsano 2006, from the Colli di Luna (”hills of the moon”) region of northwest Tuscany, is fermented in concrete vats and aged on the lees in stainless steel for six months, special treatment indeed, and the result is a wine of definite class and breeding. Made from grapes taken from vineyards 1,300 feet above sea-level, the wine is fresh and lively, lemony and spicy, with a sense of long-drawn-out acid and scintillating mineral elements, of balance and integration, that raise it above the usual product of the grape. O.K., it’s probably the best vermentino I’ve ever tasted, and I’d be happy to pay, oh, $18 for it. Excellent. About $29.

8. The Vie di Romans Dessimis Pinot Grigio 2005, Isonzo del Friuli, is a result of trying too hard in the winery to make a grape into what it is not. Even pinot grigio doesn’t deserve to be turned into a ringer for an over-oaked chardonnay, which is the effect this wine had on me. Barrel-fermented and matured seven months in French barrels, the Vie di Romans Dessimis Pinot Grigio 2005 is rich and ripe, glossy and roasted and slightly buttery, massively structured, stridently spicy, quite evidently oaky and overall grotesque. Poor innocent, unsuspecting grapes! I rarely do this, but I pin an “Avoid” rating on this mutant. Which shouldn’t be difficult for you to do, since the suggested retail price is about $44.

It’s no surprise that the current issue of Wine Spectator (March 31, 2008) is devoted to the spectacular vintage of 2005 in Bordeaux, which the magazine ranks with such legendary years as 2000, 1990, 1989, 1982 and 1961. It’s no surprise that eight of the top chateaux from Bordeaux’s renowned growing regions merited perfect 100-point scores, with many others in the mid and high 90s. Nor is it a surprise that prices for properties with glittering reputations and impeccable appeal are horrendous. Look at the figures that WS quotes: Ausone $2,000 a bottle; L’Evangile, $260 a bottle (the bargain of this group); Haut-Brion rouge, $930; Haut-Brion blanc $510; Lafleur, $2,000; Leoville Las Cases, $315; Margaux, $1,080; Latour, $1,110; Lafite Rothschild $850; Cheval Blanc $945 and so on. Chateau Petrus comes in at $4,975 a bottle, but before you unlimber your credit card to spring for one of those babies, remember that about $4,224.75 pays for water, while $750.25 pays for the stuff that makes wine, you know, wine. I’m just sayin’.

No, the surprise lies here, in this description, by James Suckling, WS’s longtime Bordeaux correspondent, of Chateau Caronne- Ste.-Gemme 2005, a $17 Cru Bourgeois wine from Haut Medoc. This is listed under the “Smart Buys” segment of the magazine’s “Buying Guide” section. Here’s what Suckling says about the wine, scoring it 91: “Offers raisin and dried fruit, with very ripe fruit aromas and coffee and oak undertones. Full-bodied, with velvety tannins and a long finish. This is pumped up, but I like the flamboyant character.”

“Raisins”! “Pumped up”! “Flamboyant”! What’s scary about these notices concerning Bordeaux 2005 isn’t really the prices — let the plutocrats and robber barons sort that out in their clubhouses and playgrounds — but that the Bordeaux critic for WS tasted a red wine from Bordeaux, described it in a fashion that makes it sound like a hot-climate zinfandel from Lodi, and liked it. Somewhere in there is a hint of the beginning of the end.

So, a few nights ago we’re at a fine-dining restaurant, and the way we know it’s fine-dining is because the place is a sea of snowy-white linen, the tables are set with multiple glasses and pieces of silverware; there are flowers and shaded lamps on the tables, the lighting is subdued, the chairs are upholstered in red velvet and the waiters wear those traditional short white jackets with ties. And entrees are $27 to $39. It’s very old-fashioned for a new restaurant, which it is, and on this week-night only three tables are occupied.

The waiter brings the menus and hands me a wine list and asks if we would like something to drink before dinner. As I usually do, I reply that we’ll look at the menu first and then order wine. The wine list is pretty high-toned, and I decide on a bottle of the Hendry Pinot Noir 2005, Napa Valley, at $78, a marvelous wine, as it turns out. But that comes later.

The waiter returns and we order dinner and the wine, and off he goes. We nibble bread, sip water, chat and so on. A few minutes pass and I’m wondering where the wine is, and then the waiter shows up with the amusette, you know, the little “free” offering before the meal that’s designed to show you how generous the chef is in a restaurant where entrees go up to $39. O.K., fine, it’s an amusing and tasty little thing, salmon, I think, but still we have no wine, and when the waiter clears the plates I say, “Could we get the wine soon?”

“Of course, sir, the manager is looking for it.”

Looking for it? This does not bode well.

More minutes churn their way into oblivion, and when the waiter shows up this time to change some silverware, I say, “We’d really like to have the wine.”

“Yes sir, of course, but — ” and here he lowers his voice a trifle ” — the manager is very busy right now.”

Very busy right now! In a restaurant where only three tables are occupied? LL and I gaze at each other with wild surmise, and large thought balloons bearing the words “What The Fuck??!!” appear over our heads. This is completely a new one on me.

“But,” the waiter continues — and he really is a nice and polite young man and none of this is his fault — “I know he’ll get the wine in just a minute.”

What happens in just a minute is that the waiter returns with the appetizers, sets them in front of us and rather furtively hurries away, trying to maintain his dignity. We sit there with arms folded. At this point THERE’S NO WAY IN HELL that we’re going to take one bite of food without the wine. Then a man, the manager, practically runs into the room and leaps in front of our table. “Ah,” he says gaily, “you want the wine!”

“Yes,” I say, “we would like the wine very much!”

“Of course,” the manager says, “I will be right back.” And off he scurries, and indeed returns in a few seconds with the wine under his arm. As he opens it he explains that he had to search for the wine upstairs, that it was the last bottle and difficult to find and so on, none of which explains WHY IT TOOK HALF AN HOUR TO GET THE DAMNED BOTTLE OF WINE.

Which, thank Bacchus and all his pards, turned out to be absolutely lovely.

Trade organizations exist to protect and promote the products of their members. In the world of wine, that means groups are dedicated to the purity of specific grapes or types of wines or to regional wines and traditions. In California, it would be difficult to find a county, a region or sub-region or valley that doesn’t have a trade organization out there trying to call attention to the unique attributes of its climate, soil and heritage. And while big-time grapes like chardonnay, cabernet sauvignon and merlot certainly don’t require promotion, lesser-known grapes like petite sirah and zinfandel have their official adherents in P.S. I Love You and Z.A.P. Does anyone remember the Charbono Society?

A new trade organization recently surfaced, one whose very inception embodies controversy, or at least some confusion. This is the brave little Sweet and Fortified Wine Association (website here), whose membership so far consists of Prager Winery and Port Works, Quady Winery, J. Pedroncelli Winery, Pessagno Winery and Belo Wine Co, all in California, and Glunz Family Winery and Cellar in Illinois. Hey, come on, all you wineries that make port-like and dessert-style wines, let’s show some support!

The problem, or, as I said above, the controversy or confusion, lies is legal terminology, because, according to agreements between the government of the United States of America and the European Community, the word “port” may not be used on the labels of fortified wines made outside of the designated port region of Portugal. “Port” is a protected term, in the way that “Sherry,” “Champagne” and “Chianti” are. These are wines that are firmly tied to the geography whence they originate, and it is right that they be protected. Just as producers of sangiovese wines in California may not label their wines as Chianti, so bottles of Le Montrachet may not assert that they’re “A Napa Valley-Style Chardonnay.” The principle works both ways.

Still, these practices make matters rather difficult for producers of fortified wines in the United States. The SFWA is aware of the dilemma and mentions on its website an inquiry sent to the TTB (ttb.gov), the federal agency that oversees the granting of COLAs (Certificates of Label Approval). In response, the TTB representative said: “It is my understanding that we would not allow (COLAs) for the use of the term ‘Port-Style,’ ‘Port-Type,’ etc. since those references would be in conflict with our commitment to the Agreement in Trade in Wine between the US and EC.”

So, no port or porto, no port-style or port-type or port-like, no portish or portiness or portly or purportedly (though that would be pretty clever), no “we-can’t-call-it-port-but-you-know-what-we-mean.” All right, fine. We’re all law-abiding citizens here. Obviously, the label for the Heitz Cellars Ink Grade Vineyard Port, released in 2003, would no longer be allowed.

However, the response goes on: “Also, the term ‘fortified’ or similar terms are not allowed on wine labels.” WTF, readers! The term “fortified” doesn’t even appear on labels of real Porto from Portugal! When was the last time you saw a Taylor-Fladgate or Fonseca label that said “Port: A Fortified Wine!” And port isn’t the only fortified wine in the world. There are sherry, madeira, vermouth, malaga, marsala and a few others. I find that ruling almost deliberately dense and prohibitive. One imagines a couple of pasty-faced bureaucrats in a windowless office in an anonymous suburb chuckling to each other: “Tee-hee, let’s see how they squirm out of this one!”

TTB helpfully offers “possible label options.” These include such colorful terms as “Dessert Wine,” “Grape Wine,” “Red/White Wine,” “Sweet Dessert Wine,” “Sweet Grape Wine, “Sweet Red/White Wine, etc … ” I particularly like “Grape Wine.” I mean, I like to know exactly what I’m getting in the bottle.

The French used to jeer at Americans for the health warnings required on the back labels of American wines and wines imported from other countries. “Zut alors,” they would sneer, “we are adults. We know how to drink wine. It is part of our French culture and heritage. You sissy American worry-warts!”

But ha-ha to you, Pierre, now the French, who are undergoing a national turmoil of political correctness — packages of snack foods in France carry directives to eat more fruit and vegetables — are seeing mandatory warning labels on the back labels of their wines.

Worse, though, far worse — and thanks to the vigilant Tom Wark at Fermentation for pointing this out last Thursday and providing links — is that a county court in Paris recently ruled that a story in the newspaper Le Parisien about Champagne, an editorial piece (not a paid advertisement) that offered recommendations, prices and details about the champagne houses, amounted to a form of advertising. The court said — I’m quoting a story by Oliver Styles on decanter.com for Jan. 10 — that the article “was intended to promote sales of alcoholic beverages in exercising a psychological effect on the reader that incited him or her to buy alcohol.”

A spokesman for the French National Association for the Prevention of Alcoholism and Addiction added, “Any communication in favour of an alcoholic drink, such as a series of articles in favour of Champagne, constitutes advertising and is therefore subject to the public health code.”

The implications of this move on freedom of the press are horrendous. Will newspaper articles about the drug industry and specific medicines have to carry long sidebars about proper dosage and possible side-effects? Will newspaper stories about the automobile industry be required to state: “Buckle Up for Safety: It’s the Law”? Must a piece about the merger of fast-food chains include a box with a black border that describes the dangers of trans-fats and childhood obesity?

And think about this. When you’re served a bottle of wine in a restaurant, the waiter shows you the front of the bottle but not the back. Are we entering a situation in which waiters will be required to display the front label — “Sir, Chateau Le Chien Perdu 2004″ — and then the back label — “And, the obligatory health warning, as authorized by Ordinance 2451.” Or the waiter dribbles a splash in your glass for you to evaluate, leans down and whispers confidentially, “Sir, be sure when you leave the restaurant not to operate any heavy machinery. Fork lifts, drill-presses, you know.” Or perhaps wine lists themselves will have to carry health warnings at the bottom of every page.

And then there are wine blogs. Oh, yes, do you think we will be exempt?

In order to forestall that eventuality — because all things are possible in this world — I will go ahead and provide the warning now:

The BiggerThanYourHead Warning Label

Warning:
1. This blog may incite you to purchase and drink wine, and that wine may taste to good you, leading you to purchase another bottle.
2. The wine that this blog incites you to purchase may match the food in your lunch or dinner so perfectly that you will be transported to a state of complete satisfaction.
3. This blog may inspire you to seek out many different styles and types of wines, leading you to expand your awareness, knowledge and pleasure.
4. Since you’re an adult and already know that drinking too much wine or other alcoholic beverages may result in temporary impairment or, in the case of desperately prolonged consumption, permanent health problems, this blog expects you to drink moderately, to behave yourself and not act like a freakin’ maniac and bring harm to yourself and others.

In the Nov. 15 issue of Wine Enthusiast — “We’re No. 2!” — editor and publisher Adam Strum writes in his editorial that “prices of wine have actually decreased over the past years while quality has definitely improved.”

Is this statement true?

Strum repeats that “prices for wine are going down while quality is increasing across the board.” He continues: “Think about the flavor, mouthfeel and balance of a $10 wine 10 years ago and today. I’ll be glad to answer for you: No comparison. It’s just as true at the $15 and $20 level. You can buy truly excellent, world-class wine now for $20 where 10 years ago that same amount would not have delivered the same quality.”

“The reason for this,” he says, “is competition.”

So, the issue doesn’t seem to be that prices for wine are going down, but that better wine is available in the $10 niche (or $15 or $20). It’s true that if one bottle of wine costs $10 and another costs $50, the average price is $30, while if four bottles of wine cost $10 and one bottle costs $50, the average price is $18. Those figures add up to more cheap wine on the market on average but not decreasing prices for wine in general. Of course Strum is writing in Wine Enthusiast’s “Special Value Issue,” so he has a bit of an ax to grind, and there’s not a thing wrong with that; it’s his magazine, and many terrific inexpensive wines are reviewed in this issue. I mean, I like to discover a great little cheap wine as much as the next person does.

Anyway, I disagree that inexpensive wines are necessarily getting better; some $10 and $11 wines from Australia actually aren’t as good now as they were 10 years ago; the specter of sameness and anonymity has fallen upon them. I do agree that we need to look to Spain, southern Italy and Argentina for the best values in cheap wines.

The truth, however, is that wine prices are going up, despite lots of cheap wine being available. If you’ve been buying wine or writing about wine for 20 years or longer, you know that this is the case. Just over the past decade, vineyard land has gotten more expensive, grapes have gotten more expensive and so have French oak barrels.

Perhaps one winery will serve as an example of the trend.

Morgan Winery was founded in Monterey County in 1982 by Dan Lee, who had made wine for Durney Vineyards and Jekel Vineyards. At first he concentrated on chardonnay, sauvignon blanc and several pinot noirs from Carneros and Monterey. Gradually, Lee turned Morgan into primarily an estate winery with the best wines derived from designated vineyards in what is now the Santa Lucia Highlands appellation. While I have quibbled from time to time about the amount of oak that might influence a particular wine — Lee is generally quite judicious with new oak — or feeling that a wine wasn’t up to the quality of its predecessors, I am usually grateful to try Morgan’s wines for their varietal purity, intensity and integrity.

Let’s look at the prices of a few wines from the Morgan stable for the past 10 years. I don’t mean this as a criticism of the winery but as an illustration of price trends in California.

The suggested retail price of the Morgan Sauvignon Blanc 1998 was $12; for vintage 2006, it’s $16, not a huge increase (33%) but still there.

When Morgan’s Cote du Crow’s Rhone-style blend of syrah and grenache debuted with the 2001 vintage, the wine cost $13; the price of the recently released Cote du Crow’s 2006 is $20, an increase of about 53% over five years. Morgan’s Metallico Chardonnay, which also debuted with the 2001 vintage, was originally priced at $20 and has only gone up to $22 with the 2006 version.

Morgan’s best pinot noirs come from Gary’s Vineyards, Rosella’s Vineyard and the Double L Vineyard. For 2000, their suggested retail prices were $38, $38 and $42 respectively; for 2005, the latest year, they’re all $55. (I’ll admit that I was startled when I saw those price sheets.) Now these wines are produced in very limited quantities, usually no more than 300 or 400 cases. Still over six vintages, they show an increase of 44% for Gary’s and Rosella’s and about 30% for Double L.

I realize that this comparison is not only simple but verges on simplistic. Still in a decade that has seen health-care costs and housing costs soar, it shouldn’t be surprising that it costs more money to make wine, considering the factors of land prices, maintenance, barrels (that damned euro!), marketing, wages and storage.

So, I think that Strum is optimistic when he says that prices are falling and quality is rising. If those conditions do come about, I’ll be first in line to toast to better days.