Joseph Phelps, that is. A few representatives of the Ladies Tasting Society, drawn by our long-time love of the winery, forked out $150 each for a special dinner paired with Joseph Phelps’s latest vintages. Two of us, having just returned from a week’s family vacation in a spot more known for its surf breaks than its wine lists, were intent upon having an “adult night.” The evening did not disappoint. We ate our way through five courses, drained our glasses of six wines, and considered ourselves reminded, thanks in some part to our host and national sales director KK Dirikson, of why it is we love Joseph Phelps.

But has Phelps switched allegiance from Bacchus to Mammon?

We love JP for more than the fact that in the seventies it was the first California winery to gamble on Rhone varietals like Syrah. It was also the first to bottle a Bordeaux-style red and give it a romantic, “icon” name. The gorgeous winery is awesome for visits. But most of all, the wines — all of them, from their $13 Provencal-style white to their $165 Insignia (the aforementioned cabernet-based blend, pictured above, which won Wine of the Year last year from Wine Spectator) — taste great.

But I have to say that I left the dinner a little worried about the future of this, one of my favorite wineries. The seeds of my concern were planted when we found out that the chardonnay we were enjoying was its last bottling. Why? Because (and I quote KK) “Napa is all about cabernet, so our winemaker has decided to focus on cabernet.” Cab will “bring us higher scores, more recognition,” and it’s “more lucrative.” So no more chardonnay (which kills me, since they make a delicious example, one I always use to tempt Anything-But-Chardonnay naysayers back into the fold), no more syrah, and only a little sauvignon blanc (not a significant loss, but you get my point).

Could it be that Phelps has gone Mondovino on us? Bad things happen, in my experience, to a winery when it chases markets instead of dreams (no matter how nutty they seem at the time). Bad things happen to the wine, too, when the winemaker decides to make wine for the critics instead of its loyal consumers.

So, say it ain’t so, Joe. I’m glad I’ll be able to splurge once in a while on Insignia, but I hope I can still turn to you for affordable, impeccably-made something, anything, to drink with my crab cake.