Although it’s the most widely-planted red wine grape in Italy and serves as the main ingredient in Chianti, sangiovese is a really misunderstood piece of fruit. Part of it is the fault of Chianti, actually, since many people think it’s a varietal made of the chianti grapes. Actually, there’s no such thing: Chianti is not a grape but a region in Tuscany, and like many European wines, Chianti takes its name from the place it comes from. And although Chianti does consist mostly of sangiovese, a vast majority of Chiantis are blends, with all sorts of other varieties allowed, some of them (like canaiolo) fairly obscure.

For my tasting group’s complete evaluations, including a winning wine with a Kelly Moore bouquet, click here:

Add to this that sangiovese is notoriously difficult to grow, nearly impossible to cultivate outside Tuscany, and totally tricky to pronounce (try “san-gee-oh-VAY-zee”), and you have a serious underdog situation. Even the Italians seem to be having trouble throwing their complete support behind their traditional, flagship grape. First you had the rise of the Super Tuscan, where winemakers in Tuscany began widely blending French grapes like cabernet and merlot into their wines. Then last summer we saw “Brunellogate,” where winemakers in Montalcino were accused of sneaking illicit varieties into Brunello di Montalcino, which is supposed to be 100 percent sangiovese.

The Ladies Tasting Society decided to narrow our focus straight on to pure sangiovese, and to compare a handful of Italian selections to a couple of Californian versions. Finding the wines wasn’t easy: most sangioveses coming out of Italy are (like Chianti) blends, though there are a few delicious exceptions, including the aforementioned Brunello; Brunello’s little brother, Rosso di Montalcino; Rosso di Montepulciano; and the rare but worth-it Vino Nobile di Montepulciano. In California, the problem lies in both quantity and quality. Not much sangiovese is planted in Napa and Sonoma — in fact, many of the old Italian houses (the most tragic example being Charles Krug/Peter Mondavi Family) are pulling up acres of ancient sangiovese vines and replacing them with cab and merlot. The few brave souls who are still trying to cultivate and make wine out of sangiovese in California find themselves struggling with a climate that that’s too perfect, soil too rich, and rain too predictable for this crabby, contrary fruit.

But we managed to find seven bottles and overall, it was an interesting blind tasting, in the best sense of the word. Although we weren’t always charmed by them, the classic characteristics of sangiovese shined through: violet-scented aromas, medium-bodied weight, fresh acidity, softly bitter cherry flavors, and tell-tale notes of leather, herbs, and even tomatoes.

After the labels were revealed, we found our favorites tended to be from Italy, confirming the rumors that this grape is hard to have success with in the New World — until we pulled the brown bag off a wine we were thinking of as the “sangiovesiest” of all, which we were sure was from Tuscany because of its classic profile, only to discover it was actually the Frey Vineyards’ “Masut Vineyard” from Mendocino County (also our Best Value at $16). “House paint, celery salt, and V-8 juice,” my notes start out. “Tomato juice. Great mouthfeel, light, fresh, and with a long finish. ‘I taste flowers,’ says one Lady. ‘Spaghetti sauce and oregano,’ says another. Later, raisin flavors emerged.” Hard to believe that a wine that smelled like Kelly-Moore would top on my list, but the Frey was so interesting, and so sangiovese-esque, I couldn’t resist falling for it.

The clear group favorite, though, was a Brunello di Montalcino from Sesta di Sopra ($45), a tiny winery on the south below Montalcino that produces only about 350 cases a year. The wine is made very traditionally with pure sangiovese and no new oak in the ageing process. “Very complex nose,” read my notes. “Lots of fruits, smoke, and earth. Then, mmmmm. Dried cherry, cedary flavors, good fruit, supple mouthfeel with a little tomato.” Other Ladies commented on the wine’s depth and appealing licorice notes.

In the end, we agreed that more sangiovese, especially in the form of Brunello, was worth drinking in the future. And we definitely felt the love for this cranky underdog.

Sangiovese: Italian meets Californian

Best of Tasting
Sesta di Sopra Brunello di Montalicino 2003 (Italy) $45 ****
This wine won over the group with its supple mouthfeel, depth of flavors, and complexity. Even though it’s not made with small, new-oak barrels, it had plenty of smoky, cedary characteristics. Great red and cherry flavors, licorice, and earth. Long finish.

Best Value
Frey Vineyards Sangiovese “Masut Vineyard” Mendocino County 2006 (California) $16 ***
House paint, V-8 juice, and celery salt were some of the comments that flew out of our mouths as we smelled this wine. Herbal and tomato noes announced that we were in the land of sangiovese. A couple of tasters were put off by “wierd” tastes, others loved its typicity.

Sesti Rosso di Montalcino 2006 (Italy) $27 ***
Ruby-red and rusty colored, this wine just shouted “sangiovese.” Cherry and blood orange on the nose, some pepper and plum. Tart, perrpery, brambly, dusty, loads of dried cherry and white pepper, with a long finish. One Lady said, “I smell puppy’s breath,” which we decided was better described as “meaty.”

Petroni “Rosso di Sonoma” Sonoma County 2006 (California) $24 ***
Cigar box, smoky tobacco, pepper, and dark fruit aromas introduce this agreeable wine. Although I felt it was well-made and I liked its ripe, black cherry flavors, it wasn’t my favorite because it didn’t taste like sangiovese — indeed, some cabernet and syrah help flesh things out here.

Podere Brizio Brunello di Montalcino 2000 (Italy) $49 **1/2
Ruby-colored, this fragrant wine smells like a field of violets. More fruit on the nose than the Sesti, but not as complex on the palate. Softer mouthfeel, but some ladies detected chemical and “synthetic” flavors.

Capezzana “Conti Contini” Sangiovese Toscana (Italy) $12 **
This wine has some body, and some interest on the nose, with a bit of barnyard and dark fruits. But overall it’s a disappointment: acidic, tannic, and with a clipped finish that made us think it was ill-made.

Altamura Sangiovese Napa Valley 2005 (California) $36 **
A darling of the wine press (Robert Parker gave it a 91, Wine Spectator a 92), this wine disappointed us. It had a nice, bright color, but then a sweet nose and sweet flavors on the palate were just too much — some Ladies were even reminded of Port. “Sweet and simple,” I wrote. Some cinnamon and clove on the finish. But this did just not taste like a sangiovese.

“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.

It took all the self-restraint I have not to stand up and shout, “It’s a WINE! And it would be perfect for this man who’s standing chest-deep in the water!”

Poor rosé. Already it must struggle to transcend the evil associations many of us still have with “pink” wines like white zinfandel or (going way back here) Lancers. That’s assuming we even know what it is. Here, I was witnessing a rosé trying to bloom in total obscurity.

I’ve said it before, but I will say it again: a real rosé–that is, a blush wine made from red grapes (usually grenache or pinot noir), fermented completely dry, and hailing ideally from France–is one of the wine world’s greatest, cheapest, and most refreshing joys. It’s not sweet, so it’s delicious with food and thirst-quenching in the heat of summer. And the best of it is not an afterthought: it’s made with the same care a winemaker puts into her whites and reds.

My recommendations? Any rosé from the south of France. Languedoc, Bandol, and Lirac are some areas that are known for exceptional rosés; wineries to look out for include Chateau La Roque, Domaine de l’Hortus, Gros ‘Noré, and Tempier. (Caveat emptor, though, in the case of the Domaine Tempier rosé. This year’s release of this benchmark, very distinctive rosé will set you back around $30, which twice what I think anyone should spend on a rosé.) Californian versions tend to be too full-bodied for my taste, but I won’t turn down a Vin Gris de Cigare from Bonny Doon or a Ramona Rosé from Nicholson Ranch. Finally, the Goats do Roam from South Africa is a lip-smacking steal for $9.

Just in time for tax season, here’s a list of my ten favorite wines that cost less than, well, a lot of stuff, including a bouquet of flowers, three trips across the Golden Gate Bridge — even Madonna’s new CD. To make it easier to find the wines, I’ve listed the four reds, one rosé, and five whites by type, and then supplied a particular example from a producer I’ve grown to love. So if, say, you’re inspired to cop a highly-recommended cheap thrill off a pinot bianco from Italy, but can’t find my favorite from Terre di Gioia, trust me. Pretty much any pinot bianco in this price range will do the trick. For less than $3 per glass on the average, these wines will also take the edge off that check you’re writing April 15 to the military industrial complex.

For this year’s list of top ten wines less than $15, click here:

Grenache from Spain
(Borsao “Tres Picos” Garnacha, Campo de Borja, $13)
When it’s picked right and comes from older vines, grenache (“garnacha” in Spanish) can make a rich, round wine with loads of sweet cherry flavors. Examples coming out of obscure pueblos like Borja can be amazingly low priced.

Petite Sirah from California
(Bogle Petite Sirah $11)
Remember Gallo’s “Hearty Burgundy”? It’s no surprise this satisfying jug wine had nothing to do with real Burgundy. But did you know that a key ingredient was petite sirah? Bogle’s bottling is as ubiquitous as it is tasty.

Sangiovese Blend from Italy
(Falesco “Vitiano” Umbria $10)
Forget Chianti. Look outside this famous region for innovative, well-priced riffs on its main grape sangiovese. Falesco’s is fleshed out with merlot and cab but still packs a spicy, food-friendly punch.

Red Table Wine from Portugal
(Symington “Altano” Duoro $7)
Drink up these big, dry, earthy bargains before the rest of the world catches on. Altano, a blend of tinta roriz and touriga franca from the great Port producer Symington, is a little tannic but a whole lotta fruit-forward too.

Dry Rosé from France
(Domaine de l’Hortus “Bergerie l’Hortus” Pic St. Loup, Rosé Saignée $12)
Perfect for a hot summer afternoon when you just can’t stomach a red, real rosé has made a comeback recently. L’Hortus’s is delicious proof that pink can mean crisp, refreshing, and a tad interesting — not sweet, cloying, and simple.

Fume Blanc from California
(Chateau St. Jean Fume Blanc $13)
“Fume Blanc” is what Robert Mondavi renamed sauvignon blanc to make it more marketable. He also aged some of it in oak to give it a touch of creaminess. Chateau St. Jean’s is one of the best — and cheapest — examples of the style.

Pinot Bianco from Italy
(Terre di Gioia Pinot Bianco $11)
When they hear “white wine from Italy,” most people think pinot grigio, not pinot bianco. But the latter has been like a lifeboat thrown into the mediocre ocean of the former. The name of the winery Terre di Gioia is easy to remember: just think “joy.”

Vouvray from France
(Champalou Vouvray Sec $14)
Vouvray comes from the Loire River valley and is made from the wondrously versatile grape chenin blanc. So it can come dry, sweet, still, sparkling, and everywhere in between. Whichever, it’s appley, minerally, honeyed, and great as an apéritif.

Sparkling Wine from Spain
(Jaume Serra “Cristalino” Cava Brut $8)
Many bubbly fans don’t realize that Spain makes an amusing sparkler called Cava. It’s not got any of the steeliness or complexity of Champagne. And xarel’lo, one of the grapes it’s made of, is no chardonnay. But at less than a ten-spot, Cristalino’s got some dough (and some tangerine, grapefruit, and toast flavors, too).

Gewurztraminer from Anywhere
(Navarro Gewurztraminer “Cuvee Traditional” Mendocino $14)
Poor gewurztraminer. It’s the most overlooked varietal in the wine world. But lucky us; we can get damned good gewurz for very few greenbacks. Navarro’s makes theirs in a dry style, but with all the floral and spice notes you need.

You’d think that Tablas Creek’s remote location, more than a half hour’s drive into the oak-dotted hills from Paso Robles, would deter people. But no. In fact as we drove up, a stretch limo was disgorging a leesy troop of bachelorette-partiers; I worried they might be examples of the wine tasters gone wild phenomenon. Indeed, they were a symptom of a tasting room crowded with warm bodies getting warmer by the glass.

I shouldn’t have been surprised. One of the first large-ish wineries to set up shop in the area — France’s Beaucastel in Chateauneuf du Pape teamed up with its American importer to buy 120 acres in 1987, the Pleistocene Age in Paso terms — Tablas Creek now produces about 22,000 cases, and is pretty recognizable thanks to savvy marketing and kind associations on the part of Rhône wine lovers with Beaucastel and its owners the Perrin family.

Why am I glad I didn’t turn around and flee? Click here to find out:

Especially after having just visited Justin Vineyards around the hill, whose recent growth has I’m afraid negatively impacted the quality of its wines, bustling Tablas Creek was a comparative breath of fresh air. Or, in the case of their whites, by which I was very pleased, a whiff of fresh, floral aromas. With the sole exception of the rosé, I liked every wine in their 8-wine tasting lineup — and even loved a couple. Here are my notes:

2006 Côtes de Tablas Blanc (mostly viognier and marsanne, $22): Light and fresh in mouth, preceded by a rich honeysuckle nose. Very attractive aromatics.

2005 Esprit de Beaucastel Blanc (mostly roussanne with about a quarter grenache blanc, $35): Bigger in the mouth than the Côtes, with pear and almond flavors. I wasn’t crazy about the slightly cloying finish, though.

2005 Roussanne ($27): Great! Better knit and a cleaner mouthfeel than the Esprit Blanc, with classic pear and almond roussanne flavors.

2006 Rosé (mostly mourvedre and grenache, $27): Like the rosé experiment at Kaleidos, this was the only wine at Tablas Creek I didn’t like. Similarly, it’s a little sweet. Surprisingly so, considering the French influence at this winery and Perrins’ orientation toward mourvedre, the dominant grape in this blend. I expected at dry, earthy Bandol knock-off, especially at this price, but got a candied, simple, Cali pink. Is Paso as of yet unable to master the art of the good dry rosé?

2005 Côtes de Tablas Rouge (grenache, mourvedre, syrah, $22): Delicious. Fruity, but with pepper and some seriousness. For this quality, a bargain.

2005 Mourvedre ($35): A true mourvedre, with a deep, dark color and loads of black fruit. Very earthy and brambly for a California red! A touch of that tell-tale diesel flavor I associate with mourvedre. Loved it.

2003 and 2004 Esprit de Beaucastel: the Perrin’s effort at a twin brother to their famous Chateauneuf du Pape (about half mouvedre, plus grenache and syrah, $45), the server let me taste these two vintages side by side. I preferred the 2003 because of its pure blackberry flavors and brambly notes. Seemed very balanced to me.

2004 Tannat ($35): Big, black, and tannic. The server said it might soften with some time in the bottle.

2005 Vin de Paille ($65/375 ml.): This spiffy dessert wine was the surprise favorite of the visit. The grapes are picked at regular ripeness (so it’s not a “late harvest” wine). But then they’re dried on straw mats and fermented. Wow. Impressive harmony between the sweetness and a thin streak of acidic backbone. Orange marmalade, Meyer lemon, and very ripe pineapple. Lots of deliciously well-defined flavors, and an endless, silky finish.

Pink wine from California is usually off-putting. Either it’s too sweet, as in a white zinfandel. Or the pink is too, well, red — as in too fruity and alcoholic, and lacking the earthy notes and refreshing acidity of a rosé with a good European pedigree.

But I was won over recently by a Sonoma County rosé from a relatively new winery in Carneros called Nicholson Ranch.

This wine, which Nicholson calls “Ramona,” was ruby-colored, weighty, and complicated like a red. (The fact that it’s made from Pinot Noir may have something to do with its complexity.) But it had the citrus snappiness and flavor profile of a white, including apricot, peaches, and a little mandarin orange. And although the wine was totally dry, I was done in by the taste of cherry pie and cream on the finish.

A glass of Ramona set me back $8 at Red Grape in Sonoma, to which I will definitely return, not only because the wine went perfectly with my Cajun chicken sandwich, but because the restaurant let me sit out front with my puppy. (He looks coincidentally similar to the Nicholson’s dog pictured above.)

Dear Wine Girl:
Thank you for bringing that rosé wine as a housewarming gift. You told us not to save it, but to enjoy it young and fresh, so we did. We had a friend visiting who is an aficionado and he was really blown away. You told us it a special bottle and that it has a story … can you let us know more about it?
–Your neighbors Mark and Tony

Dear Good Neighbors:

I’m really glad you enjoyed the rosé (and that it got me points with your enthusiast friend!).

The wine was a Bandol from the south of France (Bandol is a fishing village on the coast between Marseilles and Cannes; behind it are some dramatic hills and vineyards comprising the appellation called Bandol.). It’s made by Domaine Tempier, a winery that was discovered and made semi-famous by the Berkeley importer Kermit Lynch. He was the first American importers to appreciate and promote the winery, the region, and the grape (mourvedre) they use to make their rosés and reds. As opposed to most “blush” wines which are generally sweet and made as an afterthought, the rosés from Bandol are dry, refreshing, and serious about themselves as a wine. Plus they’re great with most any food, especially BBQ or roast chicken, any kind of fish, charcuterie, olive tapenade, even watermelon by the pool.

Sometimes you’ll see Tempier’s Bandol rosé in good wine stores (I snagged the last one at Whole Foods yesterday on my way to a picnic!), but your safest bet, as Bay Area guys, is to go to Kermit Lynch’s shop in Berkeley on San Pablo Avenue. (Readers can order online.) My only complaint is that this particular wine has got pricey over the years. With my discount at Kermit Lynch, mine came to $25. Ideally I don’t like to spend more than $15 on a rosé. But Tempier’s, with its distinct blood orange and earthy notes, is worth the exception.

This week, the first official week of summer, has also been a week of sparkling rosé discoveries. First there was the Bugey-Cerdon, the off-dry, pink bubbly from the Savoie in France. Then, another pink came out of the blue the other night. The sommelier recommended it with this pistachio, mascarpone, and cherry sorbet construction I ordered, and not thinking it was going to be fizzy and not white I said, sure. Then out it came: a little glass of dark carmine wine called Brachetto d’Acqui, with bubbles somewhere between the full liveliness of a champers and the slight frothiness of a frizzante. Unlike the Bugey-Cerdon, the Brachetto fully embraced its sweetness, and its residual sugars, along with its fresh cherry and raspberry flavors, made it a perfect match with my dessert. (At only 5.5% alcohol, it didn’t make me sleepy during the opera afterward, either.) It turns out to come from Piedmont in Italy; the winemaker is Giacomo Bologna, and this particular bottling called “Braida” from the 2005 vintage retails for about $23.

But a dry, full-bodied, red, served cold — with bubbles? For my reaction to this unusual suspect, click here:

This bottle I bought on the insistence of my favorite local wine merchant and I have to admit it sat for a couple of months before I dared open it. I mean, it’s not every day you say, “You know what? I think I’ll have an Italian red with some bubbles.” But sparklers-on-the-red-spectrum seems to be the theme this week, and I came home from Iphigénie en Tauride hot and thirsty, so took the plunge. Now this wine, an Oltrepò Pavese “Viti di Luna” 2005 from the Cantine Francesco Montagna in Lombardy in Italy ($14), was a definite departure from the pink sweeties I’d been exposed to lately. Made from bonarda, a native variety very similar to Dolcetto, the Oltrepò Pavese was a dark red wine, dry and tannic, but with the added fun and refreshment of bubbles and a chill. I am not ashamed to admit that I fully enjoyed it with a plate of really garlicky sundried tomato pesto.

One of the many reasons I love wine is that I’ll be going about my day, secretly confident that I’ve tasted or at least read about every type of wine there is, and then bam. A bus will come roaring down the boulevard of wine experience and take my complacent ass out.

This happened to me yesterday as I was snacking at a gourmet food court in a mall (only in San Francisco). I spotted on the wine list a sparkler I’d never heard of before, and to hide my ignorance and impress my smart friends I made a joke: “Look, they’ve got Certain Botox on the wine list.”

Really, the list said “Bottex Cerdon, $8/glass.” Discover, as we did, one of the world’s most amusing unknown wines by reading more here:

Turns out, as the waiter told us breathlessly, the Bottex Cerdon is a really tasty sparkling wine from France, made of gamay. I recognized the main ingredient of Beaujolais, so I asked incredulously if it were red. “No! Rosé!” he erupted, “You have to try it. It’s fun, it’s fruity, and it goes great with our food,” which happened to be Vietnamese fusion.

There was no ordering anything else. So three glasses of a deeply pink, pettilant liquid appeared on our table. We tasted. We reared back. Fun, yes, and fruity too. Full of strawberry and cranberry flavors. But definitely off-dry. I would have opposed the sweet temptations of Certain Botox until I remembered being rejuvenated by a red Lambrusco, another fun and inexpensive bubbly this time from Italy, by the pool on a hot day years ago.

The full name of the wine is Bugey-Cerdon, which is the area (Bugey) in Savoie and the village (Cerdon) where winemakers practice the “méthode ancestrale” of letting their pink wines ferment a second time in the bottle. This process leads to the bubbles. (Bugey, as the wine merchant Kermit Lynch points out, is where Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas waited out the Occupation during World War II.) The winery is Patrick Bottex, and this particular bottling “La Cueille” retails for about $20.