It wasn’t just Sideways that gave merlot an image problem. Used as a supporting grape variety in most of the most famous Bordeaux blends, merlot has a long history playing second fiddle to cabernet sauvignon. Then, domestically, it was the go-to red at fern bars throughout the seventies, in part because merlot can yield a soft, round beverage that’s an easy-to-drink-alone substitute for a cocktail (but mainly because it’s easy for Americans to pronounce). By the time of Miles’s unforgettable Sideways hysterics — “If anyone orders merlot, I’m leaving!” — it already seemed the varietal had gone the way of Quaaludes and paisley bellbottoms.

That’s why it’s so great to drink a merlot made seriously, without shame, excuses, or as an afterthought. And besides Petrus, the great merlot of Pomerol in France, I strongly believe that the greatest merlot is now being made in, of all places, Italy.

For proof that the boot-shaped country is kicking butt in the merlot department, click here for more:

People don’t normally associate merlot with Italy. But ever since the rise of the so-called Super Tuscans, merlot has gained a solid footing in vineyards from Tuscany to Sicily. Some of the most famous Super Tuscans — which modern-minded producers make from French grape varieties, sometimes blended with the native sangiovese — are made from 100 percent merlot, actually, including Tua Rita’s Redigaffi and Ornellaia’s Masseto. I personally am a big fan of a wine called Montiano, which is made by a dependably great Italian winery named Falesco in the Lazio region, right outside of Rome.

What’s wonderful about these Italian merlots is that they’re completely unlike what most merlot from the U.S. has devolved into. Instead of being innocuous, these wines are filled with character. Instead of being able to pass as a fruity cocktail, they are dry, robust, and worthy (no, demanding) of being consumed with food. Not mellow and accessible, they are structured and capable of ageing.

But I have a new favorite, serious merlot. It’s called Pix, and it’s a pure merlot from a producer called Boccadigabbia in the Marche region of Italy, which lies to the east of Tuscany along the coast of the Adriatic. We ordered a bottle of Pix at an Aroma Osteria in Poughkeepsie, New York ($85 at the restaurant for the 2000 vintage, $45 retail for the 2003), and were blown away by how beautifully it combined the softness of a classic merlot with an imposing structure we usually associate with cabernet. This wine had a lovely, velvety mouthfeel, but it was no pushover: I tasted cherry and blueberry fruit, but also chocolate, peat, roasted coffee, and maybe a little tar (perhaps that’s because the name Pix, according to Boccadigabbia, is Latin for tar pit, and refers to a natural tar pit that used to lie near the vineyards), all draped over a solid frame of tannins and mouthwatering acidity.

In sum, this wine needs to be tasted immediately by Miles and anyone else who’s turned, for whatever reason, against merlot.