I have a suggestion for novices who find themselves in possession of the wine list at a restaurant but at a loss for what to do with it. Before I break it down for you, though, I have three caveats.

First, my trick will only work at a certain kind of restaurant, that is, where somebody — the owner, usually, but perhaps the head chef or a partner — has put more than a thought or two into the wine. Fortunately, this sort of spot has become ubiquitous, even at levels below “special occasion” restaurants. You can tell you’re in the right place if the wine list has more than two pages, more than three wines by the glass, and lots of wine names you don’t recognize.

Second, if you’re on a date, and you’re stressed to impress, I recommend you conceal your strategy from your companion. You’ll see why in a moment.

Finally, you will need to decide first whether you want to drink a white or a red. If you can’t do this, I can’t help you. Otherwise, for my proposal click here: More

In a landscape of rolling, oak-dotted hills and vineyards producing loads of forgettable wine, one Sierra Foothills winery is determined to make its mark. It’s called Cedarville Vineyard and it’s run by “tech refugees” and UC Davis oenology graduates Jonathan Lachs and Susan Marks. (That’s me with Jonathan at their tasting room.) Cedarville’s acreage is well-positioned on a hillside at a slightly higher altitude than most of the area’s wineries, so the grapes are protected from late frosts and kept cool at at night. Just as importantly, the husband-wife team is keeping quality high by keeping quantity under control: low yields in the vineyard, hands-on attention in the winery, and a very small production. (They do less than 2,000 cases a year and have no plans to grow beyond that.)

For our special favorites from Cedarville’s current line up, click here: More

Normally the words “emerging wine region” should merit a wine lover’s attention. With demand (and prices) rising for well-known labels, emerging wine regions are often the source of easy-to-find, easy-on-your-wallet palate pleasers. Such is the case, for example, with South Africa or Languedoc-Roussillon in the south of France.

Unfortunately, the term can also refer to an area that is, on the whole, still struggling to get around some of the climate and soil issues that prevented it from being a prestige wine region in the first place. Such is the case, I’d argue after a recent visit, to the Sierra Foothills in California.

Also known as Gold Country because of the famous gold strike near Sutter’s Mill in 1848, the region lies mostly in Amador and Calaveras counties, about halfway between Sacramento and Yosemite. Many wild-wild-West remnants of the great rush remain, but these days in the Sierra Foothills it’s safe to say that red, white, and rosé is the new gold.

Not in the 14-karat sense, though. For my terrifying encounter with a junk-yard dog of a chard, click here: More

What if I told you that the best wine list I ever saw didn’t really exist?

No, it wasn’t in cyberspace or science fiction. It was at Fine’s Cellar, a smart restaurant in Phoenix, Arizona I visited not long after it opened last winter. Partly because the paint was just dry, but mostly because the owner Michael Fine is himself a wine retailer, at that point the bistro-esque spot had a printed list only of wines by the glass. If you wanted a bottle, you got to wander – really, on foot – through a small but very well edited store in the front of the building, pick one out, and drink it at retail cost.

We enjoyed a relatively hard-to-find, over-the-top rich, 2004 Two Hands’ Shiraz “Bella’s Garden” for a mere $47. We were severely tempted, too, by a 2003 Carruades de Lafitte, the prêt-à-porter version of Lafitte Rothchild, for about the same price. At any other restaurant, we’d have had to slap down a hundie at least for each.

For the secret to Mr. Fine’s fine idea, click here: More

I’ve had a lucky streak with barbera. Three standout glasses of this Italian-native varietal from two very different places made a recent impression on me; the samples I drank on a recent trip to the Sierra Foothills helped redeem an entire wine region. And unlike in “Goldilocks” no personal property was vandalized in my pursuit of satisfaction.

For my list, starting at the bottom with a rich red with roasted coffee notes, click here: More

For four days now, I’ve been subject to a very strange feeling: sobriety. As in total abstinence, not a drop of wine, for 90.5 hours and counting. It’s not a feeling that I’m used to, and certainly not one I’d bring upon myself willfully. (A long weekend-long bender of progressive July 4 parties put me out of commission in this case.) But my haplessly clear-headed state has led to a lot of thoughts about the importance of wine in my life.

Here’s something of a diary of my temporary teetotaling. Pray to Bacchus it passes soon. More

There’s no question that Napa rules when it comes to California — make that New World — wine, especially cabernet. No other region outside of France makes red wine as delicious, famous, and collectible as Napa.
That’s exactly why wine lovers should set themselves a challenge when they’re pondering a shelf or a wine list: Try something not from Napa. It’ll be a trip out of your comfort zone, for sure. And even if that touriga nacional from Portugal (for example) turns out not to be your new favorite, you will be changed. You will get a red with more native flavors, unmasked by heavy-handed oak flavors and proud of its local distinctiveness. I guarantee you’ll save money, too.

I gave myself an especially difficult version of this challenge at a fancy steak house recently. For what I bagged on my safari out of Napa, click here: More

This wine is the perfect pairing for a pulled pork sandwich. For a wine of its kind, it’s unusually dark in the glass — probably due to its hailing from an extra good, warm vintage in its somewhat northerly locale. Blue-black-red color, with aromas of sour cherry suckers, strawberry compote, and tell-tale green pepper. This is not a sipping wine. It is a food wine. Here, as in all great pairings, the food and the wine tease out hidden characteristics in each other and make them sing. First, the wine’s knife-like acidity cuts right through the sweetness of the barbeque sauce. Then, red and black stone fruit come through, with spice, roasted red pepper, and a certain appealing meatiness. Tight as a drum, but with a certain heft once it gets to wash down a bite of sandwich. Best of all, only $7 by the glass.

Email Wine Girl with your guess, or click here for the answer: More

One of my favorite California reds is a blend called Generations. It’s the flagship wine from Charles Krug, better known for making jug wine since the forties and ejecting Robert Mondavi in the sixties after he had a fist fight with his brother and co-owner. (Peter Mondavi, the recipient of the left hook, still runs Charles Krug and recently changed the recipe for the Generations, which is why I don’t buy it anymore, but that’s another story.) In the bad old days, Generations was a cabernet-based wine that tasted as good as some of Napa’s most famous reds — at about a quarter of the price, probably because of the low profile of the Other Mondavi.

Anyway, three generations of my in-laws celebrated father’s day last Sunday, so I brought over a bottle from the 1997 vintage that I’d lovingly cellared for almost a decade. Tasting it made me think: why do people keep wine? Should they at all?

For how I appalled myself with my own answer, click here: More

“A rosé? I’ve never heard of that.”

Okay: we were in West Hollywood, rooftop-poolside at our hotel, so I admit I wasn’t swimming in a deep demographic pool of enophiles. I’d been shocked all weekend, in fact, at how un-wine-savvy the Los Angeles scene is. Even at the popular sushi spot Koi I felt like a big thirsty fish in a little pond stocked with cocktails and sake, but not much in the way of fruits of the vine. All I could devise to drink with my jalapeno hamachi was a California sparkler, one of only two offerings by the glass. Not a riesling or a gewürztraminer in sight.

But to overhear a waiter say that not only did he not have any rosé but he hadn’t any idea what it was — click here to find out what I wanted to do. More