Sometimes the story is almost as interesting as the wine. The wine in question is the Llai Llai Pinot Noir 2008, from Chile’s Bio Bio region, 300 miles south of Santiago and the southernmost of the narrow country’s vineyard areas.

Pierre Marchand, head winemaker for Bodegas Corpora, has been the winemaker for several prestigious producers in Burgundy, including Domaine Bruno Clair, Domaine Comte Armand and Domaine de la Vougeraie. In 1999, he joined the Boisset Group and went to work for the company’s joint venture in Chile with Corpora. When Boisset sold its share in the venture, Corpora took Marchand on as chief winemaker to oversee production for all its labels. Marchand does this while he continues to produce a negociant label in Burgundy under his own name. Making wine in Burgundy in one season and in South American at the following harvest must build up the frequent flyer miles. Winemaker for Llai Llai is Louis Vallet, another Burgundian who works two harvests a year, six months and many thousands of miles apart.

Despite their Burgundian orientation, Vallet and Marchard do not impose a classic (or trite) framework on Llai Llai Pinot Noir 2008, allowing for the individuality dictated by a rather exotic location for the grape. The wine sees some oak, but it’s a 50/50 combination of one-year-old French oak and stainless steel for 11 months, so any wood influence is persuasive yet gentle. The color is a lovely medium ruby with a magenta glow. The bouquet wafts a sweet exhalation of cloves and sassafras, dried red currants, tobacco leaf and spiced and macerated plums. This pinot noir is quite dry, lively and spicy, with flavors of red currants, cranberries and mulberries that unfurl a touch of cinnamon and a hint of briers and clean earth and enough tannin to make it slightly chewy. All factors are deftly handled, so the wine feels light without being tenuous and fleshed-out without being obvious. Alcohol content is 13.4 percent. Drink now through 2012. Very Good+. About $13, a Raving Bargain.

Imported by W.J. Deutsch & Sons, Harrison, N.Y. A sample from a broker.

Arnold and Alma Tudal planted vines on 10 acres of former walnut orchard north of St. Helena in the Napa Valley in 1974 and released their first wines in 1979. Big Tree Road is still pretty rustic compared to the circus that Hwy. 29 has become, a circumstance reflected in Tudal’s refusal to follow new-fangledness and fleeting fame or even, over the course of 30 years, to alter their winery’s logo or the labels on their products. This refreshing stance implies a becoming modesty of purpose but not of accomplishment; the pair of Tudal cabernet sauvignon wines from 2007 that I tried recently are among the greatest cabernets I have tasted this year. The wines are 100 percent cabernet sauvignon. Winemaker was Ron Vuylsteke, though he departed and has been replaced, as of the 2009 vintage, by Kirk Venge. These wines were samples for review.
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The Tudal Family Winery Clift Vineyard Cabernet Sauvignon 2007, Oak Knoll District, Napa Valley, offers everything that devotees of old-fashioned Napa cabernet look for: classic notes of cedar, tobacco and lead pencil; a solid structure based on abundant and vibrant acidity, dust-laden tannins (both polished oak tannins and a hint of slightly more astringent grape tannins) with the bass tone of granite-like minerality; and dark, rich, spicy black currant and black cherry flavors slightly tinged with black olive, briers and brambles. What makes the wine so exciting — LL said, “This is the best red wine I’ve tasted all year” — is that it’s packed with character and a sense of slumbering, brooding dignity as well as being beautifully balanced, clean, fresh and appealing. It feels like a supreme example of an impeccably-made country wine, so perhaps “exciting” is not correct, for this is, above all, a wine that resists trends of nervy raciness or sleek sophistication or blatant ripeness or heavy-handed extraction for the simple yet profound virtues of being natural and effortless and complete. 14.1 percent alcohol. Production was 490 cases. Best from 2011 or ’12 through 2018 to ’21. Exceptional. About $40.
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The Tudal Estate Bottled Cabernet Sauvignon 2007, Napa Valley, displays an entrancing dark ruby color with a magenta/blue rim. Blue, too, metaphorically, is its quality of blue fruit drenched with black; its piercing, bluey slate-like minerality; its cool yet smoldering blue flame of smoky potpourri, cassis and lavender. The concession to modern practice is the alcohol content of 14.7 percent; 30 years ago for this wine, 12.5 percent alcohol was considered just fine. (Cherchez le global warming?) Other than that factor, this is a solid, robust, uncompromising Napa Valley cabernet that shows more density and more concentration than its stablemate mentioned above. The finish adds to that austerity with loads of underbrush and forest elements and dusty, dry-leaf and leather tannins. One has to applaud this relentless and totally satisfying unstylishness. Production was 390 cases. Try from 2012 or ’13 through 2018 to ’22. Excellent. About $45.
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Vintage 2009 is being proclaimed as the best that Beaujolais has seen not only in many years but in the lifetimes of the oldest vignerons. The grape of Beaujolais is gamay, a cousin of pinot noir. Certainly this range of some of the many Cru Beaujolais wines produced by Georges Duboeuf that I tried recently displayed uncommon depth and resonance and will benefit from aging for eight to 10 years. Duboeuf gets a lot of criticism (including from me) for launching and sustaining the fad for Beaujolais Nouveau and for introducing the yeast — 71B — that imposes the repulsive scents of bananas and coconut on Beaujolais Nouveau and basic level Beaujolais; no, youngsters, those aromas are not “characteristic” of Beaujolais.

Duboeuf, however, through long-term contracts and relationships, also produces and markets the wines of a number of small estates or properties among the 10 Cru Beaujolais communes, as well as making his own Cru wines sold under his well-known flower labels. I tasted a selection of these wines recently at a trade event. The products of Georges Duboeuf are imported by W.J. Deutsch & Sons, Harrison, N.Y.
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Brouilly 2009 (Flower label). Enticing ruby-purple color; penetrating, almost startling, aromas of black currant, mulberry, cloves and shale, vibrant and refreshing; a deep, dark Brouilly, with tingling, beckoning acidity for backbone, spicy black cherry and black currant flavors (with a flare of red plum) for flesh, and a heart of clean, mineral-laced tannins. A remarkable performance at this level. Drink now through 2014 to ’15. Excellent. About $16, Great Value.
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Fleurie 2009 (Flower label). You could swim in the bouquet, dab it behind your ears, send it on an extraterrestrial voyage with a note that says, “Here’s what we smell like, lucky us” but, boy, after the panoply of generous black fruit scents, roses and violets, spicy and foresty elements, this is a pretty damned tight and closed-in wine, at this point rather overwhelmed by its tannic structure. Try from 2011 through 2015 or ’16. Very Good+. About $17.
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Clos des Quatre Vents Fleurie 2009. This Fleurie from the “Walled Vineyard of the Four Winds” offers aromas of spiced, macerated and roasted black currants, black raspberries and mulberries in a base of smoky plums and graphite. It’s large in scale and mouth-filling, even for a Cru Beaujolais, but doesn’t lose the gamay grape’s signature poignant notes of ripe red raspberry, rose petals and brambles. Drink now through 2014 or ’15. Excellent. About $19.
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Morgon 2009 (Flower label). A vivid assemblage of black cherry, red raspberry, baking spice, bitter chocolate, iron and shale, ensconced in a dark ruby-purple color. What more do you want? Very sleek and polished, yet the tannins are formidable and unexpectedly gritty. Still, black fruit flavors are ripe and juicy, and touches of rhubarb, licorice and a clean rooty element lend detail and dimension. Drink now through 2013 to ’15. Very Good+. About $15.
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Domaine de la Chaponne Morgon 2009. At first this estate Cru Beaujolais seems subdued and restrained, but that’s because it’s marshaling its considerable reserves of intense shale-like minerality, concentrated black (and blue-tinged) fruit flavors and finely-milled tannins. It envelopes the nose and fills the mouth and is, altogether, as powerful expression of the gamay grape as I have seen, yet does power equal integrity? This is also the most syrah-like interpretation of a Cru Beaujolais that I have seen, or at least among this roster, so, yes, it offers attractions but to my mind loses focus and purpose a bit. Try from 2011 or ’12 through 2015 to ’17 and see if it comes to its senses. On the other hand, I mustn’t forget that Morgon is typically the largest, the deepest of the Cru Beaujolais. Very Good+. About $16.
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Jean Descombes Morgon 2009. Back in December, I made the 2008 version of this wine my Wine of the Week. For 2009, it’s even better. Remarkable purity and intensity; wonderful depth and concentration and resonance. Dark and spicy black cherry and red raspberry fruit with a touch of tart mulberry — we have a mulberry tree in the front yard — and just a hint of violets; this is big, dry, deeply permeated by granite-like minerality and foresty elements, yet it doesn’t lose sight if its, um, site, that is to say in a commune noted for producing gamay wines of generosity and expansiveness. Try from 2012 or ’13 through 2016 to ’18. Excellent. About $17, representing Real Value.
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Juliénas La TrinQuée 2009. Juliénas tends to be my favorite of the Cru Beaujolais, perhaps from nostalgia, because on my birthday in 1984, we drank a bottle of Duboeuf Julienas 1983, or simply because it embodies all the virtues of Cru Beaujolais without the occasional extremes; it’s not too floral and spicy, not is it as tannic and structured as Morgon and Moulin à Vent can be. Juliénas La TrinQuée 2009 is a wine of particular purity and intensity, resonance and vibrancy. It offers, paradoxically, the warmth of ripe, fleshy, meaty black and red fruit flavors with the coolness of granite and peat. Immensely appealing, powerful without being forceful, elegant without being fragile. Now through 2015 or ’16. Excellent. About $16, Great Value.
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Juliénas Chateau des Capitans 2009. On the other hand, this is not my favorite Juliénas. Oh, it certainly displays tremendous purity and intensity — it practically vibrates in the glass — but in its wheatmeal-earthy-minerally nature, its rollicking spice and dusty, chewy tannins, I find it atypical of its grape and commune. It’s not enough merely to take the virtues of those essential entities and pump them up like sluggers on steroids. Or perhaps it just needs some time to find company manners, say from 2012 or ’13 through 2015 to ’17. Very Good+. About $20.
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Moulin à Vent Domaine de la Tour de Bief 2009. Ripe, roasted and meaty, with black cherry and cassis scents and flavors stirringly imbued with penetrating graphite-like minerality and a dark, earthy, spicy element. Quite vibrant and resonant, real presence, yet neither heavy nor obvious; actually graced with an inner sense of delicacy and balance. Still — always the qualifying “still” — this rather quickly takes on the trappings of seriousness in the form of underbrush, a mossy note and a finish freighted with dry, tannic austerity. Among the most complex Cru Beaujolais wines I have encountered. Try from 2012 or ’13 through 2016 to ’18. Excellent. About $18, a Bargain for the Price.
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Readers, this is the 700th post on BTYH since December 2006 when it started.
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The Regaleali “Le Rose” 2009, from the Sicilian producer Tasca d’Almerita, is among the most charming and refreshing rosé wines I have tasted all summer. Tasted? Nay, happily consumed in these Dog Days when the temperature is just, as we say in our house, stinkin’ hot. Today, for example, the mercury is supposed to reach 105, with a heat index of 115. Taint a fit day out for man nor beast. The grape for this wine is the nerello mascalese, indigenous to the island of Sicily.

The color is a radiant copper-salmon, midway between the classically pale of the South of France and the increasingly and unnaturally dark of “rosés” from Australia and California. Aromas of ripe and slightly fleshy raspberries and red currants are twined with hints of melon and peach and a slight sensation of earthiness. This is a lovely, supple and quite dry rosé that exhibits delicately spiced and macerated red fruit flavors imbued with traces of dried thyme and tarragon wrapped around a lean backbone of limestone and thirst-quenching acidity. The alcohol content is 12.5 percent. Very Good+. Prices range from about $10 to $14 around the country, but like an idiot I paid $18 at a store here in Memphis. Caveat emptor, indeed.

Leonardo Locascio Selections for Winebow Inc., New York.

You know how it is. It’s gin and tonic season, and you go to the grocery store and pluck a bottle of the usual tonic water from a shelf and there it is. One day, however, I was in Whole Foods, and I saw, on a bottle shelf, a four-pack of little bottles of Fever-Tree Tonic Water, so I bought a set and the next time I made gin and tonics of LL and me, I used it. Wow, what a difference! More effervescent, sharper, tangier, drier, chastely medicinal, great balance; tonic water for grown-ups. Next time I was at Whole Foods, however, the store was out of the Fever-Tree Tonic Water but had Fever-Tree Bitter Lemon. This is slightly yellower that the pale tonic water and a little cloudy from pieces of lemon pulp. It too contains quinine, the basis of tonic water, but the lemon component seems to lend more body and a citric tang that jazzes the dryness and slight bitterness without being puckery. I suppose one cannot call the cocktail of gin and bitter lemon (with a squeeze of lime juice and a slice of lime; a sprig of mint is good too) a gin and tonic, but it’s one of the most refreshing and summery cocktails around.

Fever-Tree was launched in 2004 by Charles Rolls and Tim Warrilow; Rolls ran the Plymouth Gin company. Fever-Tree, which is based in London, also makes ginger ale and ginger beer that I would dearly love to try. Fever tree was the name given to the cinchona tree from which quinine is derived. British officers in India began mixing quinine with water and sugar in the 1820s to ward off malaria, and it must work, because I’ve consumed about a billion gin-and-tonics in my lifetime and I’ve never had malaria. Fever-Tree products contain no preservatives, artificial sweeteners or coloring agents.

A four-pack of 6.8 fluid-ounce bottles is $4.99 at Whole Foods.

As faithful readers of this blog know — bless yer little pointy heads! — every feasible Saturday night it’s Pizza-and-Movie Night in the FK/LL household. This has been a steady occurrence for 15 years or so, and for most of that time I adhered to pretty much the same routine in making the pizza. Recently, though, I radically changed the way I make pizza, in terms of basic ingredients and technique.

The first inspiration was an article that ran in the food section of The New York Times on May 18 (and available online), called “The Slow Route to Homemade Pizza,” by Oliver Strand. Following the advice of a number of professional pizza-makers, the story advocates making the pizza dough and letting it rise at room temperature for 24 hours or at least overnight. Now I’ve always indulged in what I thought of as a slow rising of the dough at about eight hours, but overnight was new to me. I tried the technique soon after I read the article, making the dough on Friday night and leaving the bowl on the counter until the next morning. About 11 o’clock, I punched the dough down, kneaded it a few times, put it back in the bowl and set it out on the back porch. By the time I was ready to make the pizza at 6 p.m., the dough has been working for about 20 hours.

What happened next was remarkable. Usually, when you roll out the dough, you have to have do it a couple of times because the gluten is still elastic, so it has to rest for a couple of minutes and then be rolled again. With the new technique, I rolled the dough out and it immediately spread across the edges of the wooden paddle and onto the counter. Whoa! I actually had to trim the circumference because the pizza would have been too big for the stone. (Sorry I don’t have images of the process.) When we ate the finished pizza, the crust was thinner than I have ever achieved before, yet still chewy, not cracker-like, with a texture that had a little give and a rim that was slightly puffy. Fabulous, yes, but for me anyway, this technique is a little tricky, and over the past two months or so, I have had — it seems to me; LL is more generous –about a 25 percent failure rate, by which I mean that the crust was not up to a fine standard. I think I just have to keep trying to tune the method until I get it right.

The other change is that I began buying, at the Memphis Farmers Market, the hard white whole grain wheat flour from Funderfarm, a milling operation run by a young couple in Coldwater, Miss. The flour is not cheap — $8.50 for four pounds — but it’s ground the day before I purchase it, and it contributes wonderful texture and flavor to pizza. Now I can’t make a pizza with only the Funderfarm flour (the result is rather heavy), so I worked out a formula of about 40 percent Funderfarm hard white whole grain flour, about 50 percent King Arthur Bread Flour and about 10 percent rye flour from Whole Foods. All of these flours are organic.

We have also benefited from a bumper crop of local aubergines, including little globular eggplant; slim, tender baby eggplant; and pale lavender eggplant with faint white stripes. I slice these thin, marinate the slices in olive oil, balsamic vinegar, thyme and oregano, salt and pepper and then grill them briefly over hardwood charcoal. This is great on pizzas, especially in conjunction with pepper-cured bacon (as in the image above), and what’s interesting is that usually I can’t stand eggplant, it sort of
hurts my stomach. Ratatouille, yuck! I also like combining fresh tomatoes and marinated dried tomatoes on the same pizza, dribbling on a bit of the marinade as the final touch. (This image is of a small vegetarian pizza I made one Saturday when LL was traveling.) And recently I’ve been using four cheeses: mozzarella, feta, parmesan and pecorino.

Anyway, that’s what’s happening in My Pizzaworld. As far as wine is concerned, here are notes on the variety of wines we’ve had with pizza over the past few months. These were all samples for review.

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When Easton says “old vine,” they’re not kidding. The grapes for the Easton Old Vine Zinfandel 2006, Fiddletown, derive from the Rinaldi-Eschen Vineyard, some of whose vines date to the original planting of 1865, up there in Amador County’s Shenandoah Valley. Can there be an older vineyard still producing grapes in California? This is a beautifully balanced and integrated zinfandel, with loads of poise and character. The color is rich dark ruby with an opaque center and just a nod to cherry-garnet at the rim. Scents of macerated and meaty plums and red and black currants are permeated with smoke and cloves with a touch of leather and briers. In the mouth, the wine is rich and warm, displaying an intriguing combination of the savoriness of ripe, fleshy black fruit flavors with a sweet core of spicy oak and a touch of the grape’s brambly, black pepper nature. It’s quite dry, though, gaining a bit of dignified austerity and mineral presence on the finish. Nothing jammy, nothing overdone, and surprisingly elegant for an “old vine” zinfandel. Drink now through 2014 or ’15. Winemaker was Bill Easton, who also makes Rhone-style wines under the Terre Rouge label. Alcohol is 14.5. percent. Excellent. About $28 and definitely Worth a Search.
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The Grgich Hills Estate Merlot 2006, Napa Valley, asserts an individual character, unlike so many merlot-based wines that just taste “red” or like an imitation cabernet. From the winery’s Demeter-certified biodynamic vineyards, this intense and concentrated merlot delivers a bouquet of ripe black currants and black cherries etched with smoke and bitter chocolate and hints of lavender and Damson plum. A few minutes in the glass bring on a slightly roasted element, with flavors of black currants and blackberries permeated by cedar and dried thyme, all of these sensations cushioned by gritty, velvety tannins and fairly militant dusty, gravel-like minerality. The wine aged 18 months in a combination of French barriques and casks (that is, small and large barrels), some 30 percent of which were new. Such a regimen lends the wine shape, tone and seriousness without the frippery of toast or overt spiciness. Try from 2011 or ’12 through 2016 to ’18. Winemaker is Ivo Jeramaz, nephew of the winery’s co-founder and winemaker emeritus, Miljenko “Mike” Grgich. Alcohol is 14.5 percent. Excellent. About $42.
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The winery was founded in Australia’s Barossa Valley as Karlsburg Wines in 1973 by Czech winemaker Karl Cimicky; his son Charles changed the winery’s name to Charles Cimicky Wines when he took the reins. The blend in the Cimicky Trumps Grenache Shiraz 2007 is 55 percent of the first, 45 percent of the second. The wine spends 15 months in two-year-old French oak barrels that lend subtle spice and suppleness. This is a big, dark, rich and, yes, jammy red wine that bursts with aromas of ripe black currants, blackberries and plums swathed with licorice and lavender and crushed gravel. Despite the intense black fruit nectar-like ripeness, the wine is completely dry, even austere toward the finish, but it also just rolls across the taste-buds like liquid velvet couched in furry, chewy tannins. A little swirling unfurls notes of clean earth, new leather and smoke. This was terrific with the night’s pizza, but Lord have mercy, would it ever be great with a medium-rare, pepper-crusted rib-eye steak. Alcohol content is 14 percent. Drink through 2012 or ’13. Very Good+. About $15 to $18.
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La Mozza is jointed owned by Lidia Bastianich, her son Joe Bastianich and his partner is the restaurant business, Mario Batali. None of these celebrities — especially Batali — needs an introduction. (Mother and son also own a winery, launched in 1997, in Friuli Venezia Giulia, in the Colli Orientali Giulia D.O.C. region.) La Mozza was founded in 2000 and is located in Tuscany’s southwestern Maremma area. La Mozza Aragone 2006, Maremma Toscana I.G.T., could be called a combination of Italy and France; on the Italian side we have 40 percent sangiovese and 25 percent alicante grapes, and on the French side, specifically the southern Rhone Valley, we have 25 percent syrah and 10 percent carignane. The wine aged 22 months in 500-liter French casks; the standard French barrel is 225 liters, so theoretically, because of the greater mass of wine in proportion to wood, the oak influence with a cask is less, or at least more subtle. Not that the point matters tremendously for this dark, robust and vigorous red wine. Scents of red and black currants (and a touch of mulberry) are permeated by elements of graphite and potpourri, moss, briers and brambles and a bass note of mushroomy earthiness. Yes, there are intriguing, seductive layers in the bouquet, and if the wine is a bit more brooding in the mouth, that’s nothing that a little bottle aging won’t ease. The wine is well-balanced, but the emphasis is on dense but smooth, almost sleek tannins and rich, smoky black fruit flavors that need a year or two to develop. Try from 2011 or ’12 through 2016 to ’18. Alcohol content is a comfortable 13 percent. Excellent. A few months ago, the price range for this wine was about $38 to $42; today it’s about $28 to $35.

Dark Star Imports, New York.
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Yangarra Estate Vineyard, located in Australia’s McLaren Vale appellation, is part of the Jackson Family Wines empire. While the Yangarra wines are promoted as “100% estate grown,” the federally required designation on the back label mysteriously does not say “Produced and Bottled by …” but “Vinted and Bottled by …”; the implication is that the Yangarra wines (at least the ones shipped to the U.S.) are not made at the estate. Whatever the case, the Yangarra Mourvèdre 2008, McLaren Vale, is a wonderful, I’ll say it again, a wonderful expression of the mourvèdre grape. While a traditional component of the blended red wines of the Rhone Valley, Provence and Languedoc in southern France, mourvèdre is seldom bottled on its own except for a few instances in California and Australia. At first, this is all black: Blackberry, black currant, black plum, black pepper, black olive. Then a touch of dried red current enters the picture, along with sweet cherry and sour cherry, red plum, new leather. Give the wine a few more minutes and it turns into a glassful of smoldering violets and lavender, with overtones of bitter chocolate, espresso and dried thyme. The mineral element expands into layers of dusty granite and graphite that permeate the bastions of polished, chewy tannins. The wine aged 18 months in French oak barrels, only 15 percent of which were new, so the wood influence is sustained yet mild and supple and slightly spicy. This could mature for a year or two, so drink from 2011 or ’12 through 2016 to ’18. Production was 500 six-bottle cases; winemaker was Peter Fraser. Alcohol content is the now standard 14.5 percent. Excellent. About $29.

Sovereign Wine Imports, Santa Rosa, Cal.
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Just as the Yangarra Estate Mourvedre 2008 mentioned above represents a Platonic embodiment of the mourvedre grape, the Nickel & Nickel Darien Vineyard Syrah 2007, Russian River Valley, performs a similar service for syrah. Syrah was planted in Darien in 2000 and 2001, so the vines have reached a point of development that should lend rich character to the wine and continue on a plateau of quality for 50 or 60 years. There’s a whole truckload of crushed thyme, marjoram and Oolong tea in this wine, as well as baskets of blackberries and blueberries imbued with hints of prunes, plums, lanolin and leather and an all-over sense of ripe fleshiness. The color is inky with a faint violet/purple rim; the granite and shale-like mineral element feels/seems inky too. So add the caprice of lavender, licorice, bitter chocolate and potpourri crushed by mortar and pestle and scattered on a smoldering field of wild flowers and herbs. Yes, I’m saying that this is a syrah that reaches a level of delirious detail, depth and dimension, and the deeper it goes, the darker and denser it gets, until you reach the Circle of Austerity and the Chamber of Tannins and the Rotunda of Oak. (The wine aged 14 months in French barrels, 42 percent new.) Despite those fathoms, the wine is surprisingly smooth and drinkable, huge in scope yet polished and inviting. Production was 974 cases. Alcohol content is 14.9 percent. Drink from 2011 or ’12 through 2018 to ’20 (well-stored). Winemaker was Darice Spinelli. Exceptional. About $48.
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Desiring something probably less complicated and certainly cheaper on a subsequent Pizza-and-Movie Night, I opened the Estancia Zinfandel 2007, Keyes Canyon Ranches, Paso Robles. Estancia was founded in 1986 on the old Paul Masson vineyards in Soledad, in Monterey County. The winery is now owned by Constellation. Keyes Canyon is in Paso Robles, down south in San Luis Obispo. The wine is touted on its label as “Handcrafted” and “Artisan-Grown,” whatever those nebulous terms mean. As is the case with many of the products from wineries purchased by Constellation, this wine says on the label “Vinted and Bottled … “; check your bottles of Mt. Veeder and Franciscan, also owned by Constellation. Actually what the complete line on this label says is “Vinted and Bottled by Estancia Estates, Sonoma Co.” So the question is: Where the hell was the wine made?

Anyway, I didn’t like it. I tried manfully for 15 or 20 minutes to coax something out of the glass that might resemble anything to do with the zinfandel grape, but all I got was a generic sense of smoky, toasty red wine that could have been cabernet or merlot. Alcohol content is 13.5 percent. Winemaker was Scott Kelley. Avoid. About $15.

Finally, LL said, “Oh, just open something else. Something better.” So I went looking and found the next wine.
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Yes, as you know, I’m the kind of guy who will open a Jordan Cabernet to go with pizza, but, damnit, the movie was going and we were chowing down and I had to grab something. And of course I’m not implying that a wine that costs $52 is necessarily better than a wine that costs $15; the case is simply that every wine should perform up to or better than its price range, and the Estancia certainly didn’t do that.

Anyway, the Jordan Cabernet Sauvignon 2006, Alexander Valley, offers lovely balance, integration and harmony. The blend is 75 percent cabernet sauvigon, 19.5 percent merlot, 4.5 percent petit verdot and 1 percent malbec. Aging was 12 months in French (67%) and American (33%) oak barrels, of which 33 percent were new. The bouquet is first a tangle of briers and brambles, cedar, thyme and black olive with a background of iron and dusty walnut shell; a few minutes bring in the notes of black currants, black cherries and cassis. The wine is intense and concentrated, dense and chewy, with finely-milled tannins and polished oak enfolding flavors of spicy black currants and plums and a streak of vibrant acidity contributing a sense of purpose. A model of the marriage of power and elegance and a delight to drink. Try now through 2015 or ’16. The alcohol content is 13.5 percent. Winemaker was Rob Davis. Excellent. About $52.

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O.K., on the left side of the plate, a slice of olive-oil toasted bread piled with marinated red onions, roasted red peppers, roasted eggplant, roasted Portobello mushrooms and arugula; on the right side of the plate, another slice of olive-oil toasted bread with match-stick slices of hard salami and shredded feta cheese. Slap ‘em together, hold ‘em with both hands, and dive it! I think LL and I each said, practically simultaneously, “This is the best freakin’ sammich in the universe!” It was; they were. We had all these marinated and roasted vegetables on hand because we had arranged for the catering of a reception last week and brought home a tray of leftovers. I used some of the stuff on Saturday’s pizza, and more went into a simple pasta dish.

Still on the theme of Prosecco sparkling wines from the Cartizze region, with these glorious sandwiches I opened the Bisol Cartizze Prosecco Valdobbiadene Superiore, non-vintage; the producer also makes a vintage version. Again, as with Le Colture Cartizze mentioned a few days ago, the Bisol Cartizze is an extraordinary effort, especially compared to all the soft, sweet, vapid Proseccos that dominate the market. This is a very pale straw-gold color. Pungent aromas of ripe peaches and pears, orange zest and lime peel make an immediately impression, followed by a subtle strain of almond skin and apple skin, all making for a super-seductive bouquet. A touch of sweetness entices the palate, but this is a sparkling wine largely about structure framed by steely acidity that gives you a taste o’ the lash and limestone that sings the highest poignant notes of minerality. What’s so intriguing about the Bisol Cartizze is a paradoxical quality that combines slightly sweet lip-smacking “drink-me” viscosity with a spare, bone-dry savory character. As always with sparking wines, the alcohol level is low, about 11 percent. Excellent. About — ahem — $43 to $48.

I’ll admit that I would feel more comfortable with the Cartizze category of Prosecco if the price range were $25 to $30 instead of $35 to $45 or so. When the cost of these (granted) superior sorts of Proseccos crosses $40, then we’re in the realm of non-vintage Champagne, and comparisons may start to falter.

Vias Imports, New York. A sample for review from a trade group.

Let’s just get this said right up front: Frostie Root Beer is terrible. Certainly it’s a well-known brand, with its jolly, frosty little elf on every bottle. The brand was created in Catonsville, Maryland, in 1939. It was sold to Monarch Beverage Co. of Atlanta in 1979, purchased by Leading Edge Brands of Temple, Texas, in 2000, and bounced to Intrastate Distributors of Detroit in 2009. Frostie is like the foster-child of root beers.

The ingredients: “Carbonated water, high fructose corn syrup, caramel color, sodium benzoate (a preservative), citric acid, natural and artificial flavors.”

As far as the impression goes, the emphasis is on the adjective “artificial,” because Frostie is the most artificial tasting of the root beers I have tried since I began this root beer journal. However one wants to say it, artificial, synthetic, plastic, chemical, take your pick, but such terms as natural, delicious and appealing don’t apply. And it’s pretty damned sweet. A high note of vanilla packs no root beer punch and leads to no real character. There are too many better root beers on the market to bother with this one.

How much would you pay for a bottle of Prosecco? You’re thinking, $18, $20 tops, right? Or even less?

What if I told you that there is a segment of Prosecco that is positioning itself to compete, price-wise, with sparkling wines in the $30- to $45-range? These products are from a small area within the Valdobbiadene D.O.C. region (north of Venice) called Cartizze; examples are allowed the designation Superiore di Cartizze. How small is Cartizze? Within a triangle of steep hillsides defined at its points by three villages, the vineyard area amounts to 108 hectares, or about 277.5 acres. (In comparison, Chateau Lafite Rothschild, one estate in Bordeaux, covers 247 acres.) It is here that the Prosecco grape reaches (or supposedly reaches) its apotheosis. All right, perhaps that’s too strong a word for what’s going on, but I’ll admit that over the past few days I’ve tried several Prosecco Valdobbiandene Superiore di Cartizze, to give the full name, and they were miles better than 90 percent of the Proseccos I have had in the past.

One of these was Le Colture Cartizze, a non-vintage spumante made from an estate in Santo Stefano, one of the trio of villages mentioned above. The winery belongs to Cesare and Renato Ruggeri, whose family has owned it since 1500. Le Colture Cartizze opens with scintillating aromas of lime and pear with hints of lemon balm and jasmine, these strands resolving to steel and cloves. Myriad tiny bubbles are like feckless glints of silver in a pale gold column. The wine is crisp and lively, taut with steely acidity; this is not a creamy, dreamy Prosecco such as may come from further east, near the town of Conegliano, but an edgy, nervy thing inspired by the soil and exposure of the hills around Valdobbiadene. It’s pure lemon in all that fruit’s manifestations in the mouth: Spiced, macerated and roasted and charged with a tinge of tangerine and almond, yet these delights bow before the stark elegance of limestone and shale. No, readers, this is no ordinary Prosecco. Excellent. About $30 to $35.

Imported by T. Edwards Wines, New York. A sample from a trade group.

We continue to work our way through one of our favorite cookbooks, Jamie’s Italy (Hyperion, $34.95), by British chef and cooking personality Jamie Oliver. Many of the dishes he presents are eminently suited to the ferociously hot weather we’re enduring, that is, cooking is at a minimum (well, risotto takes some time at the stove) and the effects are light and delicious. We prepared these two meals on consecutive nights this week.

First was the Fennel Risotto with Ricotta and Dried Chili. This is basically a risotto, made the usual way, with minced onion and garlic (or shallot), white wine, a little butter, but halfway through, you add the thinly sliced fennel that you’ve slowly sauteed with pulverized fennel seeds, garlic and olive oil. You add ricotta, Parmesan and lemon zest before the cooking is finished and at the last minute sprinkle on the crushed — or “bashed up,” as Oliver says — dried red chilies, fennel tops and more Parmesan. This was a seriously tasty dish, bursting with sweet, earthy flavor and heat but not heavy or too spicy.

With the risotto, I opened a bottle of the Graham Beck Gamekeeper’s Reserve Chenin Blanc 2008, from the Coastal Region of
South Africa. Traditionally, the chenin blanc grape is called steen on labels, but that usage is becoming rare as the country’s wines are imported more widely into the United States. What a beauty this is! Scents of quince, yellow plum and pear are wreathed with crystallized ginger and cloves and a touch of honey. There’s more of a citrus tang on the tongue, like lime peel and grapefruit, with a hint of mango. The wine is notably crisp and lively, yet the lovely texture is neatly balanced between spareness and almost luxurious lushness. This aspect is tempered, as the minutes pass, by a tide of piercing minerality in the form of limestone and damp shale. At a bit more than two years old, the Gamekeeper’s Reserve Chenin Blanc 2008 offers an alluringly mature example of the grape. The winemaker was Erika Obermeyer. Alcohol is 13.5 percent. Drink through 2012 or ’13. Excellent. About $16, representing Great Value.

The wine was terrific with the risotto, the richness and fruitiness of the chenin blanc working well with the sweetness and richness of the risotto yet playing off the heat from the dried chilies.

Imported by Graham Beck Wines, San Francisco. A sample for review.
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The next night, we tried grilled swordfish with salsa di Giovanna, which could also be done with tuna. Giovanna sauce is really just a vinaigrette, but in addition to the olive oil and lemon juice, salt and pepper, it contains finely sliced garlic and chopped fresh mint and oregano. I mean, that’s it, but, mama mia, what a sauce it made for a wonderful, thick swordfish steak LL bought at Whole Foods. You just grill or saute the fish, and when it’s on the plate, dribble the sauce over it. Oliver gives credit to Giovanna, a cook at an estate in Sicily for teaching him this method. We tend to under-cook swordfish, so this was incredibly moist, tender and flavorful in the way swordfish can be when it’s not over-cooked, as it almost always is in restaurants. LL made roasted potatoes and bok choy sauteed in olive oil and garlic to go with the swordfish.

On this occasion, I opened the Margerum Klickitat Pinot Gris 2009, which carries a designation of “American.” That means that the grapes were grown in one state, in this case Washington, and the wine was made in another state, in this case, California. According to the TTB — Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau — you can make a cross-county wine and list the counties on the labels –as in, say, 65% Napa 35% Mendocino — but not so with an interstate wine; those have to be called “American.” “Klickitat” is a county in southern Washington named for a Native American tribe of the Yakima group. The winery is in the town of Los Olivos, in Santa Barbara County’s Santa Ynez Valley.

The Margerum Klickitat Pinot Gris 09 is a super-attractive wine on the model of the versions of Alsace, where the pinot gris grape can reach its apotheosis. Apple, lemon and pear aromas are woven with apple blossom and jasmine that develop, after a few minutes, lovely notes of tangerine and orange blossom. Plenty of flowers, yes, but the bouquet remains charming, balanced and compelling and not overwhelmingly floral. Spicy and herbal elements — spiced pear and lemon; dried thyme — make themselves known, both in the nose and mouth, and they increase their effect at the same time as the wine takes on more damp gravel-like minerality; while delicate in its constituent parts, the wine adds up to a substantial presence in its weight and lively, slightly lush texture. This all went down so easily, and it paired beautifully with the swordfish and Giovanna sauce. Winemaker was Doug Margerum. Production was about 1,450 cases. Drink through 2012. Excellent. Suggested retail price is about $16 (I mean at the winery), but here in Memphis, I paid $22.
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