The broader social trend ostensibly being depicted in Cougar Town — namely, Americans’ increased consumption of wine, particularly in casual and unpretentious settings — is one that tends to receive applause from nearly every corner of the wine world. I find myself worried, though, that wine’s well-deserved reputation for complexity and intricacy is being lost in this nascent wave of empowered suburbanite bacchanalia. Wine is delicious, yes, and it’s good for getting you drunk, of course — but those two virtues must always be complimented by a healthy dose of context and understanding for all of wine’s enjoyment potential to truly be realized.

Although I must confess to never having watched the show, the compilation above makes it clear that Cougar Town portrays wine in a less than exhaustive light. Among the numerous offenses committed within this brief collection of footage:

Incorrect and inaccurate information is disseminated. If one drinks as much wine as Courteney Cox’s character seems to, you’d hope that she’d at least know the basics, but apparently not. “White wine has less alcohol” is perhaps the most problematically untrue statement uttered by her character; while some white wines certainly have less alcohol than some reds, plenty of other whites have more alcohol than many reds. Also, “wine kills plants” is not true. Kermit Lynch’s masterful book Adventures on the Wine Route includes a passage about a French winemaker whose robust houseplants subsist on nothing but wine. Are we to believe that as accomplished a boozehound as Courteney Cox’s character has yet to devour Lynch’s canonical tome?

Speaking of devouring…

Wine’s relationship with food is ignored. As a guy who’s been known to polish off a bottle of cheap, rustic, full-bodied goodness from the south of Italy in as much time as it takes to watch a pre-recorded Bulls game all by my lonesome, I’m one who fully appreciates the value of drinking wine on its own. However, the traditional pairing of wine with food is one that’s been appreciated for centuries — yet nowhere in these clips is there a depiction of a wine being matched with a complimentary comestible. This is an inexcusable oversight, and one that reflects a cavalier attitude toward enjoying wine in traditionally fulfilling ways.

And worst of all…

Wine philistinism is championed. At no point during all of these selected clips is wine discussed thoughtfully and analytically. Fair enough — after all, Cougar Town isn’t Sideways. (Hell, A Good Year wasn’t even Sideways. Burn!) But the prurient manner in which wine is discussed is positively stomach-churning. First, wine is requested by several characters solely by color (mostly “red,” it seems) with no regard to geographical origin or grape variety — a maddeningly unreliable way to pick a wine one will like, given the tremendous differences in character that exist between wines of roughly the same hue. Next, the arrival of wine at a party is celebrated by all, as though the palate of each of the attendees had just been calibrated to the same level of “thirst for alcohol bordering on the psychotic” (again, with wanton indifference toward the specific contents of the bottle). Finally, in a particularly telling moment at 01:10, Cox’s character remarks about wine that “if it takes the edge off, I am good to go.” Someone should tell her about this great stuff called grain alcohol, which she might find to be an altogether more economical way to satisfy her major prerequisite.

I guess this is all a long-winded way of saying that I’m disappointed by the show’s decision to portray a reality in which the massive quantity of wine being guzzled by these characters has somehow failed to result in a more quality drinking experience. I consider myself a fairly knowledgeable wine drinker, certainly, but the way in which I became such was by drinking a shit-ton of wine and gleaning information as I went. When one consumes wine in great quantities, it almost takes a deliberate effort, I feel, to avoid learning about it along the way. Vinous knowledge just sort of comes with the territory. The mere act of figuring out what grape variety you most enjoy is tantamount to a great act of self-discovery, one that’s typically aided by ingesting multiple examples of numerous candidates.

There’s a huge emphasis these days on “demystifying” wine, but I don’t think people would be nearly as interested in wine if it weren’t a bit mystical. I’m hard pressed to name any other item on the shelves of my local supermarket with as many subtleties to be understood, as much history to be processed, or as many nuances to be discovered. I find it hard to believe that people like these Cougar Town characters even exist, and I guess that’s because I can’t accept that anyone’s capable of drinking that much wine without getting bitten by the edutoxication bug. Wine may be delicious, but it’s not a cheap date. It demands to be understood.

The Young Winos of LA: edutoxicating Los Angeles since 2005.

Twitter: @YoungWino

First, go to the group The Young Winos of LA. In the upper-left corner, you’ll find a Notifications menu. Select the Notifications menu, make sure the checkbox is set for “On.” Then click Settings….

A Notification Settings box pops up that allows you to change your preferences. To make sure you get emails:

• Select the “Also send an email to:” checkbox. (If you only wish to receive notifications on Facebook, leave this box unchecked — you will NOT get email).

• Then, select the Notify Me About menu and choose “All Posts.” This will send you Facebook notifications (and email, if you chose it) about all items posted on the wall of The Young Winos of LA group.

• If you select “All activity,” you will receive other notifications, such as responses to wall posts, as well.

• If you select the other options, you will NOT receive the announcement emails!

If you’re still having trouble, or you have any further questions, feel to bother Jason here.

If we lived in Europe, that would undoubtedly be the case.  Local winemaking is a tradition that goes back hundreds of years in every part of the continent climatically amenable to viticulture.  It might’ve been the case in the US, too, were it not for Prohibition, a horribly destructive period in our nation’s cultural and culinary history.  Vines were torn up, fields replanted, wineries razed.  Following Prohibition’s repeal, cooperatives in California operated by Italian immigrants (Gallo, anyone?) flooded the market with jug wine, sweet wine, and cleverly marketed concoctions like Thunderbird and Ripple; later, the ’60s and ’70s would usher in a new breed of California wineries (Robert Mondavi, Heitz, Stag’s Leap, Jordan, etc.) devoted to achieving excellence in varietal wines, particularly Chardonnay and Cabernet Sauvignon.  Sadly, all of this was at the expense of nationwide local winemaking, which was slower to rebound from Prohibition and adjust to the changing palates of American consumers.

Today, however, there are thriving wineries in every state in the nation, many of which produce lesser-known varieties that aren’t often seen in wines from California, Oregon or Washington.  This coming Wednesday, the Young Winos of LA are embarking on a coast-to-coast tour of local wines, and we want to taste a bottle from your home state! Whether it’s Gamay from Georgia, Vidal Blanc from Vermont, or Tempranillo from Texas, do your best to make sure your state’s wine culture is represented. For my part, I’ll be bringing a Cabernet Franc from Pine Bush, New York, a mere thirty minutes from where I grew up. (The more local your wine, the better — we want to taste the earthy notes of the dirt you used to play in as a kid.)

California natives have it easy… wine from all over this state is plentiful and accessible.  If you’re from the Golden State, please do your best to bring a wine produced within an hour’s drive of where you grew up.  As always, attendees are welcome to bring a $10 no-bottle donation instead of wine.

We’ll be meeting at Aimee’s place in Brentwood.  The RSVP system functions like this: if you want in, you click on this link and tell me so (don’t forget your full name, e-mail address, and a cute message conveying to me your intentions), and I’ll send you a confirmation e-mail with the address.  Once you’ve received your confirmation, dig up that bottle of local vino you bought over your winter vacation — or simply bring ten dollars.  See you on Wednesday at 8pm.

As young winos begin their exploration of Spain, however, the number of regions producing top-quality juice can make the nation seem a bit geographically unapproachable.  Because most consumers are relatively unfamiliar with the Spanish regions and aren’t burdened with unfortunate prejudices about which ones are “best” (as is often the case with places like France, Italy, and California), wine merchants have little compunction about promoting the wines they like, whatever the region.  As a result, a trip down the Spain aisle might leave you with more questions than answers.  Where are Jumilla and Toro and Yecla?  What’s the difference between Rueda, Rías Baixas and Ribera del Duero?  How’s anybody supposed to differentiate between Cariñena, Catalunya and Calatayud? 

We could spend full meetings on all of these Spanish regions, and we’ll certainly attempt to do so before we’re too old to be in this organization anymore.  For this week, though, we thought we’d start at the top.  Spain has only two wine regions denoted as Denominació d’Origen Qualificada, the highest tier, a step above the more prevalent Denominació d’Origen ranking.  One of these, Rioja, has been the subject of Winos meetings in the past.  The other, to our horror (especially Jason’s, as he’s a big fan of the region), has not — and it’s high time we rectified that.  Please join us on Tuesday night to taste some wines from Priorat.

The rocky region of Priorat (or Priorato, depending on whether you prefer the Spanish or the local Catalán), comprises less than 50,000 acres in the northeast of Spain, a couple hours west of Barcelona.  It makes white wines and rosés, which are meant to be consumed young, as well as very serious and well-regarded reds, which can age for years.  The white grapes planted in Priorat include Grenache Blanc, Macabeo, Pedro Ximenez, and Chenin Blanc, while the reds are made out of Grenache, Garnacha Peluda (literally “hairy Grenache,” so named for its fuzzy leaves), Carignan, Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, and Syrah. (Here’s a great website with additional info about the region’s wines.) Priorat is a small area completely surrounded by the larger region of Montsant, which makes wines of similar character, so bottles from that region will be welcome as well.

Due to the season, Jason’s in a charitable mood, and he plans to open a couple of Priorats from his cellar.  However, two bottles does not a meeting make, so we’ll all need to contribute something.  Please bring a bottle of Priorat — these can be expensive, so feel free to split the cost of a single bottle with a friend of yours. Or, instead, you can bring a bottle of Montsant, which tend to be less costly. (Or, of course, a $10 no-bottle donation would be welcome.)

We’ll be meeting at Jason’s place in West LA.  The RSVP system functions like this: if you want in, you click on this link and tell me so (don’t forget your full name, e-mail address, and a cute message conveying to me your intentions), and I’ll send you a confirmation e-mail with the address.  Once you’ve received your confirmation, go find an interesting bottle of Priorat or a solid bottle of Montsant — or, as always, simply bring ten dollars.  Enjoy your newly purposeful trip down the Spain aisle!  See you on Tuesday at 8pm.

This Friday, join Young Wino beer guru (and co-author of The Craft of Stone Brewing Co.: Liquid Lore, Epic Recipes, and Unabashed Arrogance) Randy Clemens as he guides us through a tasting of specially curated dark beers, including several rare and vintage offerings, with a large focus on California breweries.  Here’s Randy’s description of this highly illustrious event:

In the world of beer, darker beers fall victim to a variety of misconceptions, the seemingly most prevalent being that all dark beer is heavy, or high alcohol, or (heavens no!) more caloric. The fact of the matter is, there are numerous wildly different styles of beer being unfairly lumped into the unfortunately nondescript “dark beer” category, sharing little to nothing in common excepting their noctiferous shade. Robust Porters, Imperial Russian Stouts, Black IPAs, Dunkelweizens, Rauchbiers, Schwarzbiers, Doppelbocks, oh my! Reject your preconceived notions of what dark beer is and come down to Noah and Sasha’s pad in Santa Monica on Friday, December 9th at 8pm.

Randy will be pouring us an inspired and unique lineup of seasonally-appropriate brews, including the Eagle Rock Solidarity, the Manzanita Where There’s Smoke, and the Eel River Organic Porter (along with a few barrel-aged rarities and awesome vintage bottles that shall remain surprises until Friday night).  Around ten beers will on the menu, and Winos don’t need to bring their own beers to this tasting — instead, we simply ask everyone to bring $10 to reimburse Randy for the brews he brung.

We’ll be meeting at Noah and Sasha’s place in Santa Monica.  The RSVP system functions like this: if you want in, you click on this link and tell me so (don’t forget your full name, e-mail address, and a cute message conveying to me your intentions), and I’ll send you a confirmation e-mail with the address.  Space is limited, so please RSVP early to guarantee a spot.

Once you’ve received your confirmation, you’re good to go — and remember, please bring $10 to pay for the beers. Can’t wait to see you yuletide youngsters on Friday at 8pm!

Although either white or red grapes (or both) may be used in the production of Champagne and the méthode champenoise wines it’s inspired worldwide, the resulting wines are usually white, the skins of the red grapes having been separated from the juice too early to impart any pigmentation.  Other bubblies are done as rosés, wherein the red grapes are allowed to leave just a hint of their natural coloring behind.  Both white and rosé sparkling wines of a certain price point (roughly $10 and up) carry some degree of respect: not everyone’s a rabid fan, perhaps, but no one finds them odd or funny-looking.

Red bubbly, on the other hand, has never received a whole lot of respect.  They’ve typically been shelved near the other “novelty wines” (i.e. fruit wines, wine in boxes, ChocoVine, etc.), consigned to the status of something you’d bring to the party to inspire discussion, or as a joke.  Even winemakers have been in on the jesting: according to this article, German vintners changed the spelling of their red bubbly from kalte ende (meaning “cold end,” reflecting the leftover wines from which it’s made there) to kalte ente (meaning “cold duck,” which is apparently the kind of phrase that Germans find comedic).  Well, joke no more, Klaus: this week we’re taking sparkling red seriously.  For Wednesday night’s meeting, please bring any sparkling red wine that looks interesting to you.  Here are some suggestions…

Sparkling Shiraz from down under. In recent years, Australia’s bubbled reds have largely become the category’s de facto standard bearer to young American consumers.  The good ones are dry, not sweet, and embody the best varietal characteristics of the Shiraz grape, i.e. fruit-forward, earthy richness.  There are a number of good producers in Barossa Valley and McLaren Vale, including Samuel’s Gorge, whose winemaker visited us a few years ago.

Lambrusco.  An Italian sparkling wine that enjoyed immense popularity (and ridicule) in the seventies and eighties, Lambrusco isn’t really on young consumers’ radars these days.  Ask your parents about it, though, and be sure to mention Reunite, the regrettable Lambrusco brand that described itself as “nice on ice” and was a fixture at every dinner party, despite the creepiness of its ad campaign:

Reunite notwithstanding, Lambrusco is a grape that produces delightful and complex red sparklers which run the gamut from light and acidic to rich and brooding.  Here’s an excellent article on Lambrusco that features suggestions of several bottles worth trying.

Elsewhere.  Red sparkling wine is made all over the world — Italy (i.e. Brachetto d’Acqui from Piedmont), France (i.e. Vin du Bugey-Cerdon from Jura), Portugal, and even Moldova.  Also, respectable red bubbly is made right here in California: Geyser Peak and Wattle Creek both make good ones, and we’re big fans of the Municipal Winemakers sparkling Shiraz from Santa Barbara, the 2007 vintage of which we reviewed on this site.

Please note: sparkling red, like other sparkling wines, is often priced to reflect the painstaking process of making it.  Good Lambrusco can be found for $20 or less, but good Sparkling Shiraz tends to be pricier.  As we’ve done in the past with other potentially expensive wines, I’d like to encourage members to split the cost of a pricier bottle between two people, in order to make it affordable to attend the meeting.  (Or, as usual, you’re welcome to bring a $10 no-bottle donation.)

We’ll be meeting at Emily’s place in Manhattan Beach.  The RSVP system functions like this: if you want in, you click on this link and tell me so (don’t forget your full name, e-mail address, and a cute message conveying to me your intentions), and I’ll send you a confirmation e-mail with the address.  Once you’ve received your confirmation e-mail, go find an interesting bottle of sparkling red — or, as always, simply bring ten dollars. Can’t wait to see you festive youngsters on Wednesday at 8pm!

And why wouldn’t I want to make converts out of all of you?  After all, Beaujolais is one of those rare wines that’s as beloved as it is reviled.  Usually a wine is either extolled by basically everyone (i.e. Napa Cabernet) or has a pervasively bad reputation (i.e. Lambrusco or White Zin), but Beaujolais has healthy collections of both fans and haters. On the positive side, Beaujolais has several worthy champions in the wine press, like Eric Asimov of The New York Times and Mike Steinberger, formerly of Slate.  Perhaps my favorite wine scribe, the legendary importer Kermit Lynch, includes the following passage in his masterful book Adventures on the Wine Route: “Beaujolais must be the most inspired invention in the history of wine.  What a concept, downing a newborn wine that has barely left the grape, a wine that retains the cornucopian spirit of the harvest past.  It even serves to remind us of the first time man tasted fermented grape juice and decided it was an accident of nature worth pursuing.” 

Sadly, Beaujolais also has plenty of detractors, but many of them are presumably just rebelling against the regrettable wine known as Beaujolais Nouveau — and rightly so.  Beaujolais Nouveau (literally “new Beaujolais”) is present-year vintage wine that’s specially bottled for the Thanksgiving season. Typically hailing from the least-celebrated vineyards in the Beaujolais region, the wine is harvested early (sometimes leaving it unripe), bottled, aged for about a week, and then shipped off to unfortunate customers all around the world. In most vintages, it’s pretty poor wine — and definitely not worth the $10 to $14 it commands.  (Absolutely essential reading for this week’s tasting is Mike Steinberger’s treatise on the horrors of Beaujolais Nouveau, which you can read here.)

This Thanksgiving, I’m going to once again encourage all Young Winos to skip out on the Beaujolais Nouveau marketing ploy, and instead embrace one of the other excellent wines that hail from this storied region. It’s no surprise that Beaujolais has traditionally been a November hit; its light fruitiness and earthy undertones pair perfectly with the ripe harvest flavors that dominate the Thanksgiving table. For our tasting this week, we’ll “say no to Nouveau” and concentrate instead on the region’s other winners:

Beaujolais is the basic red, and is made entirely from the Gamay grape. It’s meant to be consumed young, so try to find an ‘09 or ‘10. Beaujolais-Villages (the French word “villages” rhymes with “mirage,” not “pillages”) is a step up; these wines are from one of 39 villages designated as superior. Finally, there are ten Cru Beaujolais, each from an individual village from which the wine takes its name. These are the best and most interesting wines to be found in the region. They are:

Brouilly — fruity and grapey
Chénas — subtle and graceful
Chiroubles — very light bodied
Cote de Brouilly — heady and lively
Fleurie — floral and velvety
Juliénas — richly flavored
Morgon — purple and masculine
Moulin-a-Vent — hearty and balanced
Régnié — has two accents on it
Saint-Amour — silky and spicy

Be creative when searching for your bottle! Great bottles can be found for south of $20. Eric Asimov offered several Beaujolais suggestions in a recent column, while Mike Steinberger published a piece this year in which he calls the 2009 Beaujolais “required drinking” and lists several producers worth checking out. Also, you can click here to review our favorites from the ‘08 tasting! (Please note: the ten Cru Beaujolais above probably won’t say “Beaujolais” anywhere on the bottle, so you’ll have to look for the individual place names.)

We’ll be meeting at Wino HQ in Sherman Oaks, and this week’s meeting starts at 8pm. The RSVP system functions like this: if you want in, you click on this link and tell me so (don’t forget your full name, e-mail address, and a cute message conveying to me your intentions), and I’ll send you a confirmation e-mail with the address.  Once you’ve received your confirmation e-mail, go find an interesting bottle of Beaujolais, Beaujolais-Villages, or one of the Crus — or, as always, simply bring ten dollars. Can’t wait to see you ebullient youngsters on Wednesday at 8pm.

Other famous winos, though, accept the challenge anew every year.  Eric Asimov of The New York Times had terrific success picking out Thanksgiving wines two years ago.  According to Eric, the perfect wines for turkey n’ trimmings “must be modest but confident wines that assert their flavors in harmony with the food rather than trying to dominate the proceedings.”  When I think moderate yet confident, assertive yet harmonious, the American region I’d think of (after all, giving thanks is a primarily American custom) would be Oregon.  Next week we’ll get into some Beaujolais for tradition’s sake  — this will be the LA chapter’s fifth November Beaujolais tasting — but first let’s explore some offerings from our neighbor to the slightly north.

Oregon is an exciting location in the world of domestic wines. It’s a difficult place to grow grapes; the state has cold weather, a rainy climate, and a name that no one can figure out how to pronounce (is it “or-a-GON” or “or-a-GINN?” No one knows for sure). Oregon’s most important wine region is the Willamette (definitely pronounced “will-AM-ette”) Valley, which also has various sub-regions within it. Other regions include Rogue Valley, Columbia Valley, and Umpqua Valley. Reds and whites are both fair game for this meeting — as are sparklers, if you can find one.

Whites: on the blanc side, Chardonnay was the most widely-planted white grape as of the 2001 publication of my copy of The Wine Bible. However, this website claims that Pinot Gris is now the leader on the white side, which makes sense, as it’s definitely become the most celebrated white grape in the state. Besides the Chardonnay and the Pinot Gris, both of which can be excellent, also look for Pinot Blanc, Riesling, and Gewurztraminer.

Reds: Pinot Noir is the grape that’s really put Oregon on the map. According to The Wine Bible, Pinot is the “soul of winemaking” in Oregon, particularly the bottles from the Willamette Valley. A French agricultural journal did a study in which they compared the climates of the Willamette Valley and France’s Burgundy region — the classic European home of great Pinot — and discovered that the two locations mirror each other almost identically in sunlight, temperature, and average rainfall. The hallmark of both regions is a cool climate combined with high amounts of precipitation, resulting in slow-ripening, well-balanced Pinot Noir.  To quote Bible author Karen MacNeil: “grown where they are bathed in the hot sun, [Pinot Noir] grapes end up as a wine that tastes something like pureed prunes mixed with flat cola.”  In Willamette’s cool maritime climate, however, grapes “do not burst into ripeness but instead make their way slowly and methodically toward maturity.” Meanwhile, the warmer vineyards in the eastern part of the state are the source of some nice Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon.

The good people at Willamette Valley Vineyards have sent the Young Winos three bottles of Oregon wine to taste at this meeting.  Willamette Valley Vineyards recently had the distinction of being named one of Wine & Spirits Top 100 Wineries of the year, so hopefully these will be some tasty bottles that showcase the best traits of Oregonian winemaking.  For this meeting, please feel free to bring either a bottle of Oregon wine or a $10 “no-bottle” donation.

We’ll be meeting at Wino HQ in Sherman Oaks, and this week’s meeting starts at 8pm. The RSVP system functions like this: if you want in, you click on this link and tell me so (don’t forget your full name, e-mail address, and a cute message conveying to me your intentions), and I’ll send you a confirmation e-mail with the address.  Once you’ve gotten your confirmation e-mail, go out and find yourself a nice bottle of Oregon wine (or bring a $10 donation, if you prefer). We’ll see you on Wednesday at 8pm!

With regular Slate wine columnist Mike Steinberger presumably still rocking a nasty hangover from his indulgent survey of super-sweet German Rieslings last month, the “cheap wine” op-ed was penned by Slate contributor Brian Palmer, who’s lent his everyman voice to numerous topics (recent articles bearing his byline include “Can You Be Scared Enough To Pee Your Pants?” and “I Just Want an Escort — are there any who aren’t prostitutes?”).  Palmer attacks the sacred cows of the wine world with iconoclastic gusto, insisting that wine critics are about as useful as Latin instructors and no more relevant, that a wine’s price is no indicator of its quality, and that a wine’s quality is tantamount to its drinkability.  The Winos love a healthy dose of iconoclasm, and we love the idea that wine should be cheap.  What we don’t love, though, is faux-populist, simplistic and misleading tirades against the basic truisms of this delicious vice of ours.  (Might want to top off that humongous glass before proceeding.)

Palmer’s argument rests upon two rather dubious main points, the first being that people who say they prefer pricier wines to cheaper ones are unwittingly responding more to the price tag than to the juice itself.  This idea shares the condescending tone of a lot of these “gotcha” articles that are popular these days, which refer to studies in which people are tricked into thinking a certain wine costs more and then demonstrate more of a preference for it.  It’s not surprising that wine drinkers associate price with quality, though, since there exists a correlation between the two with which anyone who’s consumed a lot of wine is familiar.  Good wine is simply extremely hard to make on the cheap.  Highly inexpensive wines (i.e. $2 to $4) are by necessity mass-produced, and mass-produced wines typically have difficulty expressing the flavors, the nuances, the “sense of place” that even novice wine drinkers have begun to learn how to pick out; they also suffer from glaring faults like over-ripeness, fake-oakiness, general phoniness, etc.  (Predictably, the “price is no indicator of quality” argument was pretty handily torn to shreds in the heavily-trafficked comments section below the article.)

The more insidious claim, though, is an implicit one that has more to do with wine consumers than with the wine itself.  “Professional wine critics are quick to point out that they, unlike you and I … have gotten very good at sniffing out the traits that the wine industry thinks entitle them [sic] to more money,” Palmer writes, and then lists “cassis, subtle earthiness, and jammy notes,” as examples of these highfalutin’ traits, which he assumes “don’t interest you.”  Wait a second — why would he possibly think those don’t interest us?  Were we not reading an article about wine in a publication known for excellent wine writing?  Does Palmer really think that an interest in exploring the nuances of wine is one entirely foreign to the readership of Slate, which, by my approximation, generally consists of well-read, intelligent, young to young-ish people?  We’re not a great unwashed mass of indifferent hedonists, Brian.  We like a little thinkin’ with our drinkin’.

Palmer’s implication that the average person has no interest in drinking wine contextually and analytically betrays the degree to which he’s out of touch with the way in which wine is increasingly being consumed these days.  He sings the praises of “consistency,” a trait that’s anathema to anyone for whom wine is a process of discovery and surprise; consistency is fine in breakfast cereal and light beer, but wine should never find itself so regimented and commodified.  And he lionizes the “modern technology” that allows American producers to “crank out consistent wines, case after case” — when, in fact, more and more consumers, young people in particular, are rejecting wines that taste like technological triumphs (i.e. liquid-oak and grape juice concentrate), as so many of the cheap ones transparently do, and indeed are wary of any wine that can be “cranked out.”  “Wine is not art,” Palmer writes, in effect cementing his anti-snob soapbox to the corner of Smug St. and Populist Ave.  That’s the kind of clueless, pejorative sentiment that anyone who appreciates wine for more than its intoxicating qualities could never get behind.

As I said earlier, the Young Winos love our cheap wines.  When we find one that speaks to us, we buy it by the case, pour it for friends, and brag about what a steal it was.  Earlier today, a bottle at K&L in Hollywood caught my eye, the 2009 Castillo de Monseran Garnacha from Cariñena in Spain.  Having never tried a bottle from Cariñena, I resolved to open it tonight, and I made good on my resolve.  The nose smelled of leather sofa, prunes, and grape jelly; while the jelly dominated, a little ground pepper made an appearance, as did a bit of strawberry fruit leather.  On the palate, the Garnacha proved light and fruity, with a playful spice profile and cherry flavors in abundance.  The wine was not tannic, and might’ve even been well served by a slight chill prior to pouring.  Happily, the wine discovered its body as it sat in the glass, and it exhibited a nice bit of plumpness after an hour or so.  At $7.00, I’d call the Monseran a crowd-pleasing quaffer that I’d likely revisit.

The thoughtful, unhurried way in which I approached the bottle and considered its attributes along with its limitations is more familiar to today’s young wine drinker than Brian Palmer seems willing to believe.  There’s nothing wrong with hedonistic wine-drinking, of course, but my belief is that drinking a wine studiously and analytically actually enhances pleasure, rather than interfering with it.  We echo Palmer’s cry to “drink cheap wine,” but we implore you to do it the right way, the satisfying way, with a solid portion of context and critique as a chaser.  Of course, as true Winos, you already knew that.  Now stop reading and go refill that humongous glass.

The Young Winos of LA: edutoxicating Los Angeles since 2005.

Twitter: @YoungWino

Strictly speaking, Syrah and Shiraz are the same grape.  Which name it goes by is a matter of geography and tradition — and, more recently, stylistic preference as well.  The ancestral homeland of the grape is France’s Rhône Valley. In the Northern Rhône districts (appellations such as Côte-Rôtie, Hermitage, and Saint-Joseph), the reds are 100% Syrah, and are filled with “gamy, meaty flavors” and notes of “white pepper, forest, and leather.” (In the Southern Rhône, wines like Côtes-du-Rhône and Cheteauneuf-du-Pape are typically majority Grenache, so don’t bring one of those unless you’re absolutely sure it’s majority Syrah.)

In Australia, the grape is known as Shiraz, and is made into big, structure-driven wines filled with dark berries and tobacco.  Per the Wine Bible: “the best of them have almost syrupy plum, boysenberry, mocha and violet flavors, with hints of spice and black pepper.  By comparison, they are much more saturated with fruit than their parents, the Syrahs of the Rhône.”  In California and Washington (as well as a few other US states), the grape is usually called Syrah, and produces wines of depth, richness, and fruit-forwardness.  Some California producers choose to use the “Shiraz” moniker, often to indicate that the wine is crafted in an Australian style.  (To read an impassioned discussion between two wine experts about which name is more correct, click here.)

For Wednesday night’s meeting, please bring a bottle of Syrah or Shiraz.  (As always, you can bring a $10 no-bottle donation if you don’t have time to hit up the wine shop.)  After drinking everyone’s bottles, we’ll bring out two anonymous brown-bagged bottles — one Syrah, one Shiraz — and try to guess which is which based on what we’ve tasted thus far.

We’ll be meeting at Andrea’s place in North Hollywood, and this week’s tasting will start at 8pm.  The RSVP system functions like this: if you want in, you click on this link and tell me so (don’t forget your full name, e-mail address, and a cute message conveying to me your intentions), and I’ll send you a confirmation e-mail with the address.  Once you’ve gotten your confirmation e-mail, go out and find yourself a nice bottle of Syrah or Shiraz (or bring a $10 donation, if you prefer). We’ll see you on Wednesday at 8pm!