Thirty years ago at a trattoria on the isle of Capri, I had a lusty homemade red that rocked my world. Ever since this "so that's what wine's all about" moment, I have been seeking similar experiences, always aiming to approach wine with an innocent eye -- and nose and palate. Along the way, I've learned that wine need not be profound to be meaningful and memorable, that it is a simple pleasure, and that it's best when shared with friends and other loved ones.
Most of all, I have learned that I have a lot to learn. And hey, if the lessons, lab work and homework in regular school had been this much fun, we'd all have Ph.D.s. Here are a few things I discovered in the past year:
Sometimes, it's what's on the back that counts. Having too many choices is preferable to having too few, but at the wine store it can prove overwhelming. Even Mensa members couldn't memorize more than a fraction of all the wine labels out there, much less their flavor profiles and vintage variances.
The best solution is and always has been finding a good merchant, someone who cares enough to get simpatico with your preferences and level of expertise. The next-best method might be to seek out a good importer, especially a not-so-enormous one that bears the imprimatur of an impassioned individual with a distinctive palate.
As with a winery, it's better to start with one bottle, as there's no guarantee that you'll be enamored of the "style" preferred by that importer. But if you like one, you'll probably like them all -- and will have found a nifty shortcut for some of your wine-buying outings.
If the names of one of these importers is on the back label of a wine bottle, I'm all over it: Terry Theiss, Kermit Lynch, Louis/Dressner, Jorge Ordonez and Neal Rosenthal's Mad Rose Group.
A mind is a dangerous thing to make up. Years ago, I determined that I didn't like chenin blanc, based on a few experiences with flaccid California offerings and a particularly bitter sampling from France.
A few months back, though, I was intrigued upon reading about the spot-on compatibility of a Vouvray and Humboldt Fog, my favorite American goat cheese. A merchant recommended a bottle for the pairing, which more than lived up to my grandiose expectations. What I had forgotten was that the wines of Vouvray, a sub-region of the Loire Valley, are made from, yes, the chenin blanc grape.
So everything I knew, at least about that grape, was wrong. Vouvray ranges from dry to sweet, with the ones in the middle (tendre and demi-sec) providing great flavors without being syrupy in the least. Meanwhile, efforts from California (try the Dry Creek) and South Africa (look for Rudera) are improving, but remain uneven.
White wine with dinner? Think Europe. Everyone at the two dozen Napa wineries I visited last winter talked about how "we're ratcheting back on the oak in our chardonnays." Even so, most California and other New World whites remain better suited for cocktail hour than for sit-down dinners. Being long on fruit and oak but short on acidity is not the best formula for food friendliness.
A riesling from Germany or France's Alsace region remains the go-to wine for a table at which several diners have ordered disparate dishes. Meanwhile, vast improvements in winemaking techniques and the Old World penchant for a bit of acidity have brought an unending bounty of bottlings suitable for dining in or out. Greece and Slovenia and (especially) Hungary are exporting more and more meal-worthy juice, but France, Spain and Italy remain at the forefront.
Last year, it wasn't just the company of the charming winemakers that made meals paired with Stefano Inama's lean, focused Inama Soave Classico and Patrizia Felluga's Zuani Collio (see Wine of the Week) indelible experiences: These Northern Italian whites meshed magnificently with everything from gnocchi to smoked salmon. A Spanish albariño from Martin Codax worked just as well with earthy scallops as with the spicy harissa in the 112 Eatery's signature bacon-and-egg sandwich. And who'd have guessed that white Châteauneuf-du-Papes (La Nerthe and Vieux Télégraphe) could meld in your mouth with sushi? Not me, until a memorable November night.
When locals land in Wine Country, they don't leave Minnesota Nice behind. It's almost impossible to go to Napa or Sonoma for a few days and not stumble across a few Minnesota expats.
Former Valspar exec Angus Wurtele (of Terra Valentine) has a gleam in his eye and a lilt in his voice, whether discussing old wines or the new Guthrie. He's a prince of a man, with no regal airs.
Duane Hoff of Fantesca bubbles with an engaging gusto, clearly relishing the good life he and his wife, Susan, have forged. Native sons and winemakers Dave Ready Jr. (of Murphy Goode) and Kent Rosenblum (of Rosenblum Cellars) bring an unabashed exuberance to both their wines and their frequent trips back to the home front.
Being with these people brings home what is the absolute best thing about wine: the communal enjoyment it brings. That's a lesson worth re-learning in this and every year.
Read Bill Ward's new wine blog here.
Bill Ward has been writing about food, wine and travel for more than a decade. He has yet to meet a grape he doesn't like.