The New York Times ran a disturbing article on Buckfast Tonic Wine, an appalling-sounding brew of fermented grapes, sugar, and caffeine that’s being blamed for a national crisis of highly-wired inebriation in Scotland. The government is considering controlling the vile substance, but local fans are responding with protests to the theme of “Don’t Ban Buckie!”
 
If you’ve tasted “Loopy Juice” (as they say in Glasgow) let me know if you were seized by intent to vandalize. And click here for the thoughts about my alcoholic WASP heritage that this story inspired:
 
I’ve been thinking a lot about the role of alcohol in my cultural heritage, in part because I had to do a “cultural sharing” for a class I’m taking, and when I sat down to think of things that symbolized my WASP (with the Anglo-Saxon part being mainly Scottish) background, the first thing that came to mind was a martini glass, since everyone in both my father’s and mother’s extended families broke every day at 5:00 pm, and occasionally at lunch, for gin cocktails. My mother’s family called it Happy Hour, but I’ve heard other WASPs call it Arsenic Hour. The happy part of this tradition is the laughter, the group solidarity, and the end-of-the-good-protestant-workday it brought about. The poisonous part is the alcoholism it fostered in many of my father’s family, especially. (My great uncle Fred, for example, drank himself to death in his early thirties.)
 
I also brought a bottle of wine to my cultural sharing, because I think in many ways my love of wine has been (among other things of course) a way for me to “manage” my alcoholic inheritance. I come from a long line of big Presbyterian drinkers, and I will indulge in the occasional cocktail. But I prefer wine. That’s because with wine, drinking isn’t (for me at least) about getting drunk; it’s about having something delicious to imbibe with food. It’s about gathering friends around the table. It’s an intellectual exercise for me, because I like to learn, think, and write about wine.
 
The exception to this rule about wine may be Buckie. I can’t see any reason anyone would drink this foul potion except to get potted. Your thoughts, whether you’re WASP or not?

 
With the exception of an occasional mimosa — and only when the sparkler destined for adulteration isn’t one of my favorites — I’ve never been much of a wine-cocktail drinker. Oh, and then there’s the sangría we serve every year at our Fourth of July pool party (again, made with zinfandel of a quality that wouldn’t highly recommend itself for savoring alone).
 
That’s because wine, to me, already represents a finished work of art. In my opinion, the ultimate mixologist is the winemaker: she worked hard to source the best ingredients, blend at the perfect levels, and serve in a pretty package. Why would I want to muck up her creation by throwing soda pop at it?
 
But I surprised myself last night not only by serving “Late Harvest Wine and Campari Cocktails” before a dinner party, but by improving the recipe with a stealth ingredient. For my recipe, click here:
 
The surprise deviation from the recipe was a bottle of Moscato d’Asti I had in the fridge. This off-dry, slightly effervescent sweetheart of a deal (the Tintero “Sori Gramella” cost me $9) had all the residual sugar needed to replace the late harvest riesling called for by the recipe. Plus, its fizz made this refreshing drink even more thirst quenching.
 
3-1/2 cups Moscato d’Asti
2-1/2 cups OJ
1 cup Campari
 
Mix, chill, and serve over ice in a tall glass. Cheers!

Used to be that when one heard “Rhône,” one thought, “red.” That’s because 90 percent of the wine that comes from France’s Rhône River valley — and all the really famous stuff, like Côte Rotie — is indeed red. Châteauneuf du Pape, although it can come “blanc,” is hardly ever seen in stores or on wine lists as such, and most people would be hard-pressed to name one grape variety that’s used to make a white Rhône.
 
The other reason whites from the Rhône are so underappreciated is because, for a long time, they deserved it. A red winemaker’s afterthought, they suffered from all kinds of horrible-sounding blunders including volatile acidity, oxidation, or just plain old funky flavors.
 
All of that has changed. Partly thanks to new winemaking technology like stainless steel tanks, winemakers in the South of France are making crisper, more balanced, delicious, and fragrant white wines. More importantly perhaps, American drinkers are increasingly fanatical about grapes native to the Rhône such as syrah, mourvedre, and viognier (“anything,” as the so-called Rhône Rangers put it, “but chardonnay”), and more people are looking to the original whites of the Rhône — Condrieu, Châteauneuf du Pape blanc, Côtes du Rhône blanc — to escape the ennui induced by having to order one, more, glass, of, pinot grigio, please … zzzzz.
 
The Ladies Tasting Society popped the cork on a pile of white Rhônes, with divided results:
 
Some ladies were delighted with how different the wines tasted from the whites we’re used to: these tasters noted floral aromas, flavors of apricots and tropical fruit, minerals, and a pleasant waxy feeling on the palate, especially with the wines that were made with marsanne in the blend. But a couple of us were expecting an even more dramatic departure. We ended up being disappointed, mainly, with the high level of oak treatment some of the wines had clearly received. One of us complained that overall, the wines lacked “typicity,” that is, the characteristic flavors lent by the grapes they were made from or the regions they came from. “This could be a California chardonnay,” said one lady of the Guigal Condrieu 2005 ($52), “it’s jacked up on so much oak, I can’t tell what’s lying underneath.”
 
Interestingly, we all agreed that the more inexpensive, “every day” examples were the most delicious. Perhaps this is because for $7.99 — the price of our much-loved Perrin Côtes du Rhône Réserve 2007 — the winemaker can’t afford to be throwing brand new oak barrels at it. Also, these less pricey blancs are intended to be drunk young and fresh, and sure enough we tended to unite behind bottles from the 2007 vintage (which is also happens to be a very highly rated one by the critics).
 
In the end, we didn’t see any reason to discontinue this growing interest in the whites of the Rhône, despite our minority crankiness. So be brave and go with a Côtes du Rhône blanc the next time you’re in the store — especially if it’s cheap. It’s not often I have the pleasure of giving that advice.
 
Best of Tasting
Le Vieux Donjon, Châteauneuf du Pape Blanc 2006 ($42) ***
Sweet jasmine and honeysuckle aromatics, followed by a rich, though balanced, palate full of apricot, melon, and citrus flavors. Some mineral notes. “The most restrained,” said one lady appreciatively; “complexity without flabbiness,” said another. A blend of grenache blanc, clairette, and roussanne.
 
Best Value
Domaine de la Bécassone Côtes du Rhône Blanc 2008 ($13.99) **1/2
This domaine (owned by the quality Châteauneuf du Pape producer André Brunel) makes only white wine, which is very unusual for the region. The focus pays off: loads of pear and apricot flavors are draped over a mouthwatering, racy frame. “Young, almost effervescent!” said one lady. One of us knocked it for a short finish, but what the hey. Roussane, grenache blanc, and clairette.
 
Perrin, Côtes du Rhône Blanc Réserve 2007 ($9)
“Crazy fruity!” enthused one lady. Indeed, this yummy quaffer was very memorable for its vivid, fresh flavors of peach, melon, flint, and lemon. Some of us detected a little wax on the mouthfeel, so characteristic of marsanne. Altogether, we pronounced it delicious, typical, and (when we discovered the price) buyable by the case. 50 percent grenache blanc, 20 percent viognier, the rest marsanne and roussanne.
 
Château Grande Cassagne, Costières de Nîmes Blanc 2007 ($12) **1/2
Okay, Nîmes isn’t technically in the Rhône. But it’s close. And we were so seduced by this golden-colored, lavender-scented nectar, we were happy it was on the table. Because of its richness, some of us thought it was a viognier from Condrieu, but no, the soft mouthfeel and notes of vanilla are worn well by this roussanne-marsanne blend.
 
Domaine Belle, Crozes-Hermitage “Les Terres Blanches” 2006 ($30) ** 
This light-to-medium bodied, fresh white pleased everyone more for what it was not (overly oaked, too rich) than what it was (a delicately apricot and melon flavored, pleasant wine). Again, some nice minerality and a tiny bit of vanilla spice. Marsanne and roussanne.
 
F&D Brunier Châteauneuf du Pape Blanc “Telegramme” 2007 ($40) **
The second wine of the famous Vieux Télégraphe, this straw-colored wine turned out to have big, vibrant middle palate full of apricot and melon flavors. Lots of vanilla and oak on the nose and finish, though; perhaps a little time will calm that down. 40 percent roussanne, 30 grenache blanc, 20 bourboulenc, and 10 percent picpoul.
 
Paul Jaboulet Aîné, Crozes-Hermitage Blanc “Mule Blanche” 2005 ($20) *1/2
Crozes-Hermitage comes from the northern end of the Rhône, and is like the little sister to the big, rare, expensive Hermitage blanc. Emphasis on “little” with this example from Jaboulet Aîné: “reserved nose, apples, lemony, crisper, with a juicy mouthfeel,” read my notes, but not enough to sink our teeth into. I should note that I opened a bottle of this same wine in preparation for the tasting, and it was oxidized.
 
Guigal, Condrieu 2005 ($52) *1/2
It pains me to write this tasting note. Guigal is one of my favorite producers in the Rhône; we’ve visited the brothers Guigal’s château; and the most exquisite bottle of wine I’ve ever tasted was the 1990 Guigal Côte Rotie La Landonne. But this Condrieu was so oaky, creamy, and jammed with vanilla and nutmeg flavors I felt like I was drinking a shake. I got none of the peach and apricot flavors I expect from viognier, and none of the structure I associate with French wines. Viscous finish.

Despite the attacks waged by Wine Dictator magazine on poor Dry Creek Valley, after visiting 10 standout Dry Creek producers a couple weeks ago during their Passport party weekend, I remain thoroughly charmed. Although the chief California editor believes Dry Creek lacks a signature varietal, I think it’s clearly zinfandel–in fact, two zins and a cab blend made from grapes from the Rockpile AVA at the northern end of the valley were favorites of the day, so I’d even go further and say that Dry Creek has a signature grape and at least one premier cru-ish terroir. Finally, the Wine Dictator insists the valley lacks a flagship winery, too, but after tasting our way through up-and-coming Mazzocco’s delicious line-up, I’d say that even if it’s true, it won’t be for long. Or was it just the belly dancers? I’m not sure.
 
For our faves of the weekend, click here:
 
Seghesio Family Vineyards’ “Rockpile” Zinfandel 2007 ($36)
A serious zinfandel! Smokey nose, raspberry-black cherry palate, definite tannins, and a long, long finish. Soft white pepper notes, structured for a zin. **1/2
 
Mauritson Wines’ “Rockpile Ridge” Zinfandel 2007 ($35)
A huuuuge zin, more on the hedonistic side than the Seghesio. Ripe, black cherry and blackberry flavors, strong notes of chocolate and vanilla. This wine tasted so good with sliders a la Charlie Palmer, we came back Sunday for more. **1/2
 
Mauritson Wines’ “Buck’s Pasture” Red Wine 2007 ($50)
We tasted this cab, cab franc, petit verdot, and malbec blend (all fruit from the Rockpile Ridge vineyard) from barrel, and were extremely impressed with the young wine. Powerful and graceful at once, with big blackberry, cassis, and other classic Bordeaux flavors like tobacco and earth. Oak very present now but should relax. **1/2
 
Other faves of the day:
 
All of Mazzoco’s 2006 single-vineyard zinfandels:
 
Lytton ($29) A real step up from the Sonoma County cuvee, this was the most accessible zin Mazzocco was pouring. Nice nose, with loads of fruit and pepper. Beautifully integrated dark-fruit flavors. **
Stone ($29) The darkest, sweetest of the bunch. **
Warm Springs ($32) The most serious zin we tasted here, very structured, with definite tannins, delicious fruit, chocolate notes, and a long finish. **
 
Ridge “Lytton Springs” Zinfandel 2006 ($35)
A darker fruit profile, notable balance, a classy zin with dusty tannins. From 115 year old vines. (My friend Jen and I are standing in front of them in the photo above.)
 
Sbragia Family Vineyards’ Home Ranch Chardonnay 2007 ($26) 
A full-throttle California-style chard, with plenty of vanilla notes and some creaminess on the texture. But balanced, with lots of tropical fruit flavors and good structure. Delicious with the seafood bisque the winery was serving up. **
 
Mazzocco Chardonnay Stuhlmuller Reserve 2006 ($36, but on sale at Passport 50% off per case)
I had to laugh at myself: after a full two days of the big red wines of Dry Creek, I went home with a case of chardonnay. I just couldn’t resist the beautiful tropical fruit flavors and spicy complexity (nutmeg, clove) of this chard–not to mention the sale price. I like how only half this wine saw new oak, and only 40 percent underwent a second fermentation. It’s like you got the best of both chardonnay worlds, the big creamy California style versus the crisp fruity Chablis style.
**1/2

I confess that gewürztraminer is not a go-to white wine for me. It’s not because of its reputation for being sweet; there are plenty of dry gewürztraminers out there that are fresh and non-cloying, but still pack the grape’s trademark, tropical fruit punch. Nor is it because gewürztraminer is hard to pronounce (just belt out, “geh-VERZ-trah-meener”) or impossible to interpret, even when the label is in German.

The real reason I don’t drink gewürz more often is because it’s just too much. As in, too much of a good thing. A beautiful, but decadent perfume of honeysuckle, rose, pineapple, and Asian spices; a full-bodied blast of fruit compote, starring lychee, on the tongue; a lingering finish with exotic flavors — who can take all that in a glass of wine?

I’ll tell you when I can: Easter.

That’s because I think a good dry gewürztraminer is the perfect accompaniment to baked ham, the Easter staple in my house, especially if the ham has a honey glaze. I especially like the gewürztraminer coming out of Mendocino county in California (try Navarro’s 2007 Anderson Valley for $19) or Alto Adige in the northeast corner of Italy (Cantina Cortaccia’s estate bottling is great and can be had for less than $20).

And if you really want that gewürz to perform — it may be its only chance this year — serve your ham with this delicious spiced pear relish I make every Easter. Have a happy one!

I love this wine because it reminds me of the sea. Indeed, the part of the world it comes from enjoys a strong maritime influence: warm summer days, but cool nights, with lots of fog and rain. (This region gets so much precipitation, actually, that in many of its older vineyards the vines are supported by trellises made of granite, because the weather will rot wooden stakes.) The example I’m drinking speaks clearly of its cool-climate, coastal origins: it’s a pale yellow, green-tinged, light-to-medium-bodied wine, full of refreshing, bracing acids, complete with a palate-cleansing wash of lemon and juicy summer melon flavors. In the mid-palate, I get honeydew, apple, and a distinct briny note, like the vineyard it came from looks out toward the Atlantic in the distance. This wine’s reasonable price makes it even more perfect to stock up on for the coming warm weather.

What could it be? Email me with your guess or click here for the answer:

Clearly this is a white wine, and its origins on the Atlantic coast help us zero in: only a few regions with any significant winemaking history border the Atlantic, including Bordeaux, Long Island, and … Rias Baixas, along the northeastern coast of Spain, just above Portugal. Bordeaux isn’t known for its whites or its constant rain, and with its hot days, warm nights, and strength in merlot and cab franc, Long Island doesn’t seem right either. (Nor are either of these regions known for bargains.) But Rias Baixas (say “REE-ahs BYE-shahs”) has an ancient tradition of making fruity, refreshing, affordable whites from the albariño grape. And perhaps no other wine expresses its maritime terroir — or goes better with fresh shellfish by the way — than a clean, cold, minerally Rias Baixas. Bingo, that what I’m drinking: a 2007 Brandal Albariño from Adegas D’Altamira, $16.

Riesling, the rich white native to Germany, is one of the most underappreciated wines of all time. There are two reasons for this: the common (and mistaken) impression that all riesling is sweet, and the indecipherable labeling on most Old World examples. Lucky for white wine lovers, a superhero has stepped forward to save this wine from total obscurity. Its name is Australia and its secret power lies in dry, simply-labeled rieslings that also happen to be appealingly priced (though that was never a problem with this underdog varietal).

For two Aussie rieslings, one to quaff and one to avoid, click here:

D’Arenberg “The Stump Jump” McLaren Vale 2006 ($11): This fruity, kitchen-sink concoction (mostly riesling, with sauvignon blanc, marsanne, viognier, and chardonnay) is a widely available, all-time favorite value. It’s got all the apple, peach, and lime flavors you’d expect from a good riesling, all propped on a decent structure provided by the sauvignon blanc. Rich, but completely dry. I love the Stump Jump with take-out sesame chicken, pad thai, or any grilled fish or pork. And how many wines have you tasted named after a plough?

Pikes “The Merle” Riesling Reserve, Clare Valley ($29): We were talked into this wine by the sommelier at Waterbar, a splashy new seafood restaurant in downtown San Francisco. She explained she’d already priced the Merle on her list thinking she was getting a case, but when the distributor delivered she realized she’d ordered a mere six pack. Her goof may have been our gain financially, but gastronomically we felt like we were stuck with a close out. What really threw us was an odd, smoky taste, a flavor we’d associate more with a red wine aged in oak. Lots of pro tasters have been making a big deal out of the “minerality” of the new Aussie rieslings, and sure enough there were plenty of earth and stone notes in this wine, but it was as if they had been exaggerated to comic levels. Clipped finish, not fruity, and just plain weird.

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:

2006 Viognier ($20): Full of apricot and melon flavors and flashing a pretty, flowery aroma, this viognier has good fruit but also a fresh mouthfeel. I was really impressed with its structure; so much viognier from California turns out flabby, but Cedarville’s is sinuous and silky. Jonathan Lachs says he’s aiming at Condrieu, the gorgeous French white made from viognier, and it shows.

2005 Syrah ($25): This syrah is programmed for pleasure. It’s loaded with sweet black fruit flavors and tinged by chocolate and black pepper notes. It just tastes so well done, like all its parts are put together in perfect harmony, but with an emphasis on enjoyment. Soft mouthfeel, viscous texture, everlasting finish. We regret giving one of our purchases to our neighbors who babysat our dog.

If you visit Cedarville, be sure to make an appointment. The owners, practically bursting with pride, will take you on a loving tour of their four-room winery, every ingenious detail of which they planned out themselves. I’ve never seen cement culverts put to such noble use.

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.

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.