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:

The low note of our wine explorations was sounded, unfortunately, at a tasting bar near our bed and breakfast in Sutter Creek. When I walked in, a handful of visitors were involved in a heated argument over their favorite sample: was it the peach, raspberry, or pineapple sparkler they liked best? No, wait, it was the almond! Alarmed, I steered right over the sweet bubblies and landed on a 2003 chardonnay from Le Mulet Rouge ($18/bottle), which sports a mule on the label. (The winery’s take on the cute animal trend? Perhaps. In any case, it was my first taste of the area’s tendency toward homey humor.) “Junk heap,” my notes begin. “Smells like garbage, tastes like soap and rotten nuts.”

I should have run from this dog right then. But I got distracted by a decent 2006 viognier from Crystal Basin Cellars ($20), which had loads of pear and apricot on the nose, followed by some tropical fruits and a nice tangerine zing. But before long I was assaulted again, this time by Gold Hill’s Red Wine 2005 ($29/bottle!), which despite its cab-merlot pedigree came off as “a little thin, some good aromas of berries, but boring on the palate.” Off flavors, including one zinfandel’s “tinny” aftertaste, came up again and again. Overall, the wines from Crystal Basin fared best, with the exception of their 2006 malbec ($25), which the list described as having a “Houdini finish.” Thinking this must mean the wine had a complicated or surprising aftertaste, I asked for a sip. “No,” the bartender corrected me. “It means ‘disappearing.’” And he was right. But I’m still stumped as to why anyone would think this would be a positive attribute to a wine, worthy of advertising.

Later, at a fun dinner at the Imperial Hotel (a former whorehouse that’s now a legitimate hotel with an ambitious restaurant), we had a 2004 merlot from Stevenot. Its thin profile and short finish convinced us that wineries in the Sierra Foothills are still struggling with a shortish growing season, high temperatures, and soils that may not lend themselves to the most familiar and marketable varieties, like merlot.

Thankfully, we did taste some wine that I found recommendable. Stay tuned for a redeeming trip to Cedarville Vineyard and my first, long-awaited taste of a zin made from centenarian vines.