A Closer Look at California’s Fine Wines

Up until my recent and first visit to the Napa Valley, I thought, if I thought about it at all, that there were only two wines, red and white. I even thought all wines were named after a grape, thus Chablis and claret were certain kinds of grape.

Such ignorance in a native Californian in his 65th year, in a state that produces more wine than any other area of the world and whose residents consume more wine than any other state in the union, is deplorable.

The only excuse, I suppose, is that I was a child of the Great Depression and of that tragic experiment in teetotalism, Prohibition. Heavy drinking of questionable, highly alcoholic beverages was the legacy of Prohibition. The healthful drinking of wine in moderation, with its time-honored rituals and the knowledge of its long history, were largely denied those of us growing up in that melancholy era.

Prohibition nearly succeeded in destroying the vineyards and the art of the wine maker. If it weren’t for the church keeping alive the making of sacramental wines, our great wine valleys of Napa and Sonoma would have taken longer to recover from the blow dealt by Prohibition, not to mention the blow to civilized drinking delivered to my generation.

Now these valleys are flourishing as they never have before, with more acres of grapes under cultivation that ever before. The art of wine making equals, if not exceeds, that of the ancient wine-growing regions of Europe.

My wife and I, upon our return from our vacation in the Napa Valley, attended a wine tasting at the Bouzy Rouge cafe in Newport Beach the other evening, during which some of California’s best red wines were compared to some of France’s best reds. It was our first such experience, having been christened as wine neophytes in the Napa Valley and our interest aroused in the fascinating history of wine.

To our untutored palates and our natural sense of provincialism, we came away from that maiden tasting experience convinced that California varietal wines could hold their own admirably against their French counterparts.

The highlight of that tasting was the sampling from a $60 bottle of wine from the Napa Valley, which, I pronounced aloud, to my wife’s chagrin, to be a ridiculus price for a bottle of Napa Valley red wine. Admittedly it had a nice smooth fruity taste--a subtle complexity, as the experts say--but so did a $1.99 bottle of Trader Joe’s merlot wine we drank at home that night with our spaghetti and pesto sauce. Well, Trader Joe’s merlot wasn’t quite as smooth or complicated, I think, but that was more than compensated for by its gentle effect on the pocketbook. Trader Joe’s merlot grapes were grown in the Napa Valley, too.

Merlot is the name of a variety of grape. It is a varietal wine, as against a generic wine. Varietals are named after the grape used to make them, as opposed to generic wines, which use names borrowed from the wine regions of other countries. Some of the most popular varietals are Cabernet Sauvignon, zinfandel, pinot noir and chenin blanc. Generic California wines are Chablis, claret, Burgundy and Rhine. They may be made from any grapes the winery chooses, and, it is claimed, are inferior to varietals.

This we learned from a charming Irish woman who was our guide at the Inglenook Winery, Napa Valley. What’s more, she carefully instructed our party in the correct ritual for accepting (or rejecting) a bottle of wine served at a restaurant. Briefly, the proper steps are: 1) Read the label, making sure it’s what you ordered. 2) Test the cork to see that it’s still damp, but don’t smell it. 3) When the wine is poured in your glass, hold it up to the light to check for sediment and color, then, lastly, sample it after swirling it in your glass and sniffing it.

The part I liked the best was checking the wine in the glass for sediment and color.

“If the light is poor in the restaurant, hold the glass aloft, slightly aslant, against the white surface of your table napkin,” advised our guide.

I can hardly wait to try that in a restauraunt--to, I’m sure, my poor wife’s chagrin and to Bob Balzer’s amusement, should he be there.