How to interpret a wine label

Here's a wine I bought based on the label. It's a Cheverny. I interpreted that to mean that it would be a Sauvignon Blanc varietal, the type of refreshing and appetizing wine that's affordable, serviceable and, these days, quite crowd-pleasing.

After noting the wine's designation, my eyes went to the year of vintage. It was 2005, which played in its favour, if for no other reason than it was fresh and not past its peak. (Many say that 2005 was a great year all across France and for white wines in particular so that was another consideration in my purchase.)

At this point, I wasn't quite ready to buy the bottle yet. In addition to the price tag, my eye would be drawn to one other place on label that most people ignore: The percentage alcohol by volume. A weird place to look when you first are picking up a bottle but it's natural for me. I go from wine designation, to vintage, to alcohol level.

This is because I don't like "hot" wines, not because I'm inclined to getting a quicker buzz when I drink. Those wines that have alcohol measuring 14% and above (even alcohol of lesser proportions in white wines) have a greater potential to seem hot. That's not to say that heavily alcoholized wines like Zinfandel and Amarone can't be balanced -- I'm just always on the lookout for that percentage captured in the lower corner of the wine label.

GETTING THE FACTS UP FRONT

The Oxford Companion to Wine says the labeling information for alcoholic content that appears on a wine label is usually stated as a percentage followed by '% vol' but may be expressed in degrees (°) or, in Italy in particular, as gradi.

For the wine pictured at right above (click for a larger view of its label), the typical percentage measurement was given, coming in at an expectedly light 12% alcohol -- at the low end of the scale but certainly well within the norm for white wines of this type. I made a mental note, and by virtue of this, plus the vintage and designation, I went for this bottle.

When I finally opened it, I knew there was some mistake. It was as if this odd shaped wine label had its grayish circular frontspiece peeled away to reveal a bright red octagon -- STOP! (Just take another look at the shape of the label...)

This 12% Sauvignon tasted like its 14.5% cousin produced by Grand Marnier in Chile's Valle del Rapel. It was incredibly hot, with the alcohol expressing itself in a searing, unpalatable, and thoroughly unbalanced way. I was amazed that a 12% wine could taste this alcoholic.

It was at that point I checked the percentage again. This time the label said 14.2%. I did a double take. But how could that be?

A ROUNDABOUT WAY TO TRUTH IN LABELING

It turned out the back label indicated a level of alcohol more than 2% higher than the front label (see image at left). From tasting this wine, it was clear that the back label was correct and the front label was lying. But I bought the wine based on what the front label said, as one could expect.

I had to refer to the Oxford one more time. It said: Alcohol tolerances vary considerably and can be as high as 2 percent alcohol in the US.

Although this wasn't the US, I could tell that this wine's labels were playing fast and loose with the tolerance standard, a rule that ultimately would allow having two different readings for a single wine and have them vary by an industry-accepted margin of error, and still have each of them be considered accurate!

I won't buy 14%+ alcohol Sauvignon so I took this bottle back outright.

THE MORAL OF THE STORY

A bottle of wine can have one, two, three or even four separate wine labels affixed to it. Any one of them can carry pertinent information and it pays to look at each of them before making a purchase.

Tomorrow: How to interpret wine labelers!

First taste of South African Sauvignon: Spier 2005

This is my first taste of South African Sauvignon. South Africa produces Chenin Blanc of some renown, and its Chardonnay is in no short supply. But it is the less widely-available Sauvignon grape variety that I was interested in trying this summer to see how it would compare to the other refreshing everyday wines I've been drinking lately.

A disclaimer first: The SAQ liquor agency in Quebec stocks very few white South African wines -- a couple of dozen at best with only five Sauvignons in its catalog. I bought this bottle at the LCBO in Ontario, an agency that clearly has a greater focus on developing wine regions like Stellenbosch. The LCBO distributes 80-odd different bottles of South African wine white, an impressive number though unfortunately this particular one is only available in the city of Markham at the moment.

TASTING THE S.A. S.B. (SOUTH AFRICA SAUVIGNON BLANC)

Mineral aspects of this wine stand out the most, which is slightly surprising since I was expecting a fruit-flavoured onslaught. The whole thing amounts to a lovely profile that also features strong notes of fresh herb and citrus.

I am not a fan of typically big New World fruit but here the fruit, though tropical and exotic, is rendered in a pithy style comes through with a bitter finish and bracing pucker. Not exactly a fruit bomb.

This bottle might have been better in its absolute youth. The 2005 vintage in South Africa is actually going on three years in age since it is a southern hemisphere wine region and gets the jump on most other wine regions by six months. I felt that after a little while this bottle seemed to start to wither and its attack carried a syrupy impression.

For the amount I paid for it, it's a promising wine. I would definitely keeps my eye out for more of it as it is produced and leave the remaining 2005s alone. Click the bottle image at top for more information about its listing in the LCBO catalog.

Annandale Road, Stellenbosch, South Africa. 12.5%.

Mixed-Bag Blogging Monday: Domaine de Montcy Cuvée Clos des Cèdres, Domaine Claude Lafond "La Raie" & Joseph Balland-Chapuis Coteaux du Giennois 2004

Like the mixed bag of inclement weather hitting the Atlantic Coast and Northeast, today's post presents a bit of a mixed bag. (By the way, news on the next Wine Blogging Wednesday, which is happening on this site, is just around the corner -- for now, see the final round-up entries as Billy wraps up WBW #32.)

Before the greatness that is Wine Blogging Wednesday, there is always a Mixed-Bag Blogging Monday to get through. But as far as today's MBM goes, things could be worse. (None of the wines in this mix came close to being as unforgiving as today's soggy and awful forecast.)

Back in early March, I set out on a bit of Sauvignon Blanc spree, focusing in on what France's Loire Valley has on offer. I think a similar pursuit with New Zealand Sauvignon inspired me to do this. So over a couple of weeks, my friends and I sampled three of the region's Sauvignons, some with Chardonnay blended in, some without.

We were surprised that the bottle which got the least praise (three stars in Michel Phaneuf's Le Guide du Vin) outshone by far the other two bottles (which had garnered four stars apiece). This was even more surprising considering that we all were in agreement and that we drank the exact vintages that were rated. They were all 2004s, a lovely and auspicious year for this refreshing, compelling style of wine.

At the top of the pack was the Domaine de Montcy Cuvée Clos des Cèdres Cheverny 2004. It was the bottle we described as "perfect" -- it perfectly delivered all we were looking for in a nice appetizing Sauvignon. I've already bought three more bottles of Montcy's Clos des Cèdres since last month's uncorking. And I intend to get more while supplies last.

The first time I tasted this I got bright citrus flavours. The second time, weeks later, which obviously was influenced by memory and expectation, I was more immediately struck by reediness and minerality that had a touch of wood. The burst of citrus I was prepared for was still there. (But you know what they say about first impressions -- or rather is it something about never being as good as the first time?) In any case those delicious grapefruit edges provided some interesting character and this wine scores, every time.

Montcy's Loire winemaker displays a descriptive profile which indicates linden and I guess I'll buy that tasting note -- it's definitely more than just zest because there are some vegetal and herbal components that are well integrated too. It's a winning package that serves up the refreshment and nice raspy edge you expect from a Sauvignon out of the Loire (Cheverny is just northwest of Sancerre, by the way).

Perhaps this winner of a cuvée has a secret in the form of its 30% Chardonnay in the mix.

Domaine Claude Lafond "La Raie" Reuilly 2004 was the one we called the "appley" one. (Click on the image at right for more details on this wine.) Raie, which is the French word for skate, as in the funny-looking plate-like fish, was much flatter than the other wines. Hey, this cuvée is well named! This Sauvignon actually verges on pear and that was quite unexpected. This was my first experience with a Reuilly wine and my first experience with this producer (Claude Lafond) so maybe lush fruit is a characteristic I should've been expecting. In any case, we were all surprised as it is, after all, Sauvignon Blanc. Definitely a subject for further research.

It came off like heavy wet snow, didn't tingle or brace our palates much as we ramped up to dinner. Not bad overall, but not the Sauvignon that we seek out. (That would be the bottle you see at the very top of the page -- click on it for more details.)

Joseph Balland-Chapuis Coteaux du Giennois 2004 was the final of the three we tasted and we labeled it the "grassy" one. (Click on the image at left for more details on this wine.) More similar to the first bottle than the second -- ain't nothing wrong with grass, especially when it comes to Sauvignon, but this was just not quite as good at the first bottle. It was a touch on the tart and unforgiving side.

Just like today's sleet and snow, it could sting in just the slightest way and it could definitely make you make faces.

R. et S. Simon, La Porte Dorée, Cheverny, France. 12%.

Clos Roche Blanche makes my favourite wine of the year (at 3 BYO's)

And meals at three worthwhile corkage-free restaurants in New York help prove it!!

Around this time last year, I picked an excellent wine and called it my favourite of the year. Now that the first week of 2007 has already gone by, this post seems a little late. (Almost all of my time blogging has been spent migrating to the new version of Blogger. Though I actually threw the switch for Blogger 2.0 at the end of December, tweaking my new template and labeling 219 blog posts has been a time sink -- I spent the entire first weekend of 2007 on it and will still likely be playing with it for some time to come).

Though my brain is currently rather fried, I have notes in front of me taken from clearer-headed days -- days when I uncorked one of the many bottles of 2005 Clos Roche Blanche Touraine Sauvignon that I've been enjoying this year (and buying without a moment's hesitation). Without further ado then is my explanation of why this is a wine of the year, i.e. a wine I could picture drinking virtually every day of the year.

There are three main reasons really, and they apply to last year's winner too. One: it's very affordable so I could actually afford 365 bottles of it. Two is that it has classic lines, and therefore something I wouldn't soon get sick of, whether served as a refreshment or as a complement to food -- though eliminating red meat completely from my diet might be in order should that come to pass. And finally, the third thing is that it is simply delicious. A citrusy, star-anise attack. Herbal and zesty elegance in a bottle. Not only is it a lovely expression of Sauvignon Blanc, but as wine is it is a triumph with nice echoes on the finish and a bouquet of flowers, lemon peel and spice.

Just during my vacation in the second half of December, I opened three bottles of this stuff. I was in New York so I elected to take them to some of the city's great restaurant establishments that charge no corkage fee. Here's how that went down.

ANGELICA KITCHEN

Organic and vegan fare in the East Village (Second Avenue and East 12th Street) with a great ambience and an earnest staff, who kindly open bottles with a smile. Every time I've gone the roomy dining area is tee totaling by a strong majority but that's because people flock there for the sui-generis cooking: intelligent with local ingredients and a keen sense of flavour and balance, and very modern. In this food context (the scrumptious Greek lasagna with "soy" dairy, for instance), a Sauvignon like the Clos Roche Blanche is a natural. If it's lunch, skip over to Ninth Street Espresso (between Avenues B and C) for coffee and a treat.

AFGHAN KEBAB HOUSE

In the heart of the Theatre District dining strip (Ninth Avenue and West 50th Street), a very narrow room serves Afghan cuisine. (Another location does the same cross-town from Hell's Kitchen). In this restaurant, Sauvignon, or in fact any white wine is not exactly wise planning. I brought it anyway I love this juice so much. I order a shrimp kebab, carefully taken off the spit for you, and a simple salad and was happy with that. But bread and appetizers are quite large and indelicate affairs calling out for big reds. Yet some, like the Boulanee, are deep-fried and a smart Sauvignon cuts through the grease nicely.

MÉLI MÉLO (en route to lunch in Greenwich Village Connecticut)

The bright and colourful Méli Mélo at 362 Greenwich Avenue, a block west of the train station in downtown Greenwich (that's the state of Connecticut, not the Village), is just 45 minutes door to door from Grand Central along the New Haven line. This is a wonderfully French crêperie with great coffee and friendly service and despite the cramped conditions (its dining room is even narrower than the Kebab House's). Pre-drinking is definitely in order since there are no reservations and it's a wee spot that's quite popular. Queues form outside. So though we drank Clos Roche Blanche at our Greenwich host's house before setting out for the little resto, it would've fit perfectly on the menu should any Sauvignon have remained by the time they let us in.

C. Roussel & D. Barrouillet, Mareuil-sur-Cher, Loire, France. 13%.

Musings on what a Kiwi cost me

Usually my reviews look at one particular bottle. Not this review though. It has four.

Since the Quebec market is quite deficient in Marlborough Sauvignons, I'm doing this in an effort to get myself up to speed. So to get a better handle on New Zealand's most famous bottled export, I went toe to toe with four bottles. All Marlborough 2005. All Sauvignon Blanc.

Could it be that they're all overpriced too? Or at least the high cost of drinking these trendy bottles was what struck me time and again. Except for the best-of-field Isabel Estate cuvée, which soundly delivered what I would call a $20 experience, the three others clearly fell short in terms of the price to value ratio.

That's not to say the Cloudy Bay isn't a remarkable wine. It is delicate, integrated, and wonderfully vinous in a way that recalls fine French winemaking. But at prices reaching up to and exceeding $30 CDN, I wonder what exactly is going on.

Blind to the pricetag, I actually preferred the Isabel bottle anyway. I favoured it if only for the fact that it is brilliantly complex: showcasing the celebrated Kiwi flavour profile of exotic fruits while maintaining strong mineral underpinnings. Isabel best approaches the Loire touchstone of Henri Bourgeois or Château de Sancerre with green reed, grass and herbal components. Delicious. I will likely seek out more. The 2005 should be able to gracefully face a little ageing.

West Brook makes an entry in the same price range as the above but is entirely missing complexity. It's all pineapple and citrus zing. The difference is like night and day yet the pricetag doesn't flinch. To me, this was even more confounding than the Cloudy Bay.

Babich produces the bottle that cost the least. You won't do too badly with it. It's a fairly good Marlborough example but doesn't stand up to much scrutiny. Very quaffable though; I quite enjoyed it as an aperatif.

Bottom line: Not including Isabel, I can think of many interesting Sauvignon blends from Bordeaux that more reward your palate for less money (actually, I'll be talking more about that in this space tomorrow). In my mind, Marlborough at its best can successfully substitute for Sancerre, but it's at such steep price that I'm not sure the charms of those exotic fruity flavours convince enough for me to stray from the Hexagon.

Isabel Estate Vineyard, West Brook, Babich, and Cloudy Bay. 12.5 - 14%.

WBW #22 Lite reds: Château Cahuzac 2003

Ultra zoom and the focusing in on a very very light 12%

For this month's WBW, which is being hosted wonderfully by Winecast, drinkers are asked to keep the alcohol to a minimum. Find a red wine that has no more than 12.5% and write about the impressions that this "once-traditional" level of alcohol has on wine and its flavour.

I think this is the most brilliant topic yet for this event. In many cases, it forces us to look beyond our usual everyday wines, which is always a good thing. But even better than that, Tim from Winecast is encouraging us to grapple with the idea that wine is more than the sum of its parts. Because, you see, alcohol does not have a taste. Yet no one can doubt its impact on wine when you drink the stuff.

So while you cannot taste alcohol itself, its proportions very much do make wine taste differently. There's a sensation or a bigness lent to a wine with high alcohol that you can definitely sense.

In a total coincidence, I tasted Casa Lapostolle's Sauvignon Blanc as apertif to the WBW festivites last night. My friends and I were preparing dinner and decanting my low-alcohol red, when it hit me: a whopping 14.5% white wine attack. This is an interesting wine, to be sure, but Sauvignon cannot support that kind of heat in the bottle. Despite all its flair and craft, Casa Lapostolle Sauvignon Blanc 2005 tastes too much like a distilled bar drink for my liking. (Did I mention that the Casa is actually run by Grand Marnier?)

But then, I am probably the least likely of all the bloggers in the WBW 22 sphere to drink 14%-plus wines on a regular basis. I opt primarily for Old World wines, and often lighter red ones, so it is not uncommon to see 12.5% reds populating the pages of Weingolb. A brief foray down my sidebar index reveals many of these "lite reds", and even a delightful French vin de pays with only 12% alcohol to boot.

How low could I go, I wondered, as I went off to purchase a bottle for today's event? Finding a 11.5% red was not too difficult. Both Marcillac and Côtes du Forez, which are French regional wines, are in that range. Since I didn't have a firm grip on the style in which they are made or the from which grapes they are blended, I decided against them. I didn't want to judge the success or failure of low alcohol by holding up for scrutiny a wine for which I had no comfortable point of reference.

So I found a wine called Château Cahuzac L'Authentique from food-friendly Fronton, a town north of Toulouse in southwest France. This is the area from which my absolute favourite bargain red originates: Le Montauriol tends to have about 13% in most of its vintages, but I never gave the number much thought. Until now, that is. I wondered whether lowering that percentage would in turn lower my opinion of this fresh and deft style of wine. Would the 12% value in my newly found Frontonnais infringe on enjoyment?

The 2003 Château Cahuzac Côtes-du-Frontonnais has nice ripened and mûr jam flavours. It is harmonious and smartly punctuated by a slightly bitter finish. Like the bottle says, warms tones of licorice and pepper are delivered. Nice balance, faint nose, not tremendously pigmented or extracted but not seemingly lacking anything. Pleasing all around. But I didn't find that this was the case at all upon my first tasting. I had just come off the searingly hot Lapostolle, and after clearing my palate with some bread, I found that this little red was sapped and dreary. It was like a faint echo of a wine, as if it had been watered down and painted on with fruit.

MORAL OF THE STORY: ARRANGE TASTINGS BY VINTAGE, BODY, SWEETNESS, AND... LEVEL OF ALCOHOL

Later, long after dinner was served, I returned to the wine. It wasn't faint or treacly at all. It even has what I would call medium body -- just less of it than the preceding white, which was whopping. And perhaps that's the greatest lesson of all in WBW 22: minimal alcohol is not necessarily equated with light body. And alcohol does not carry balance or concentration in a wine. It is more elusive than that. Yet it is there to jump out and bite you. Especially if your flight moves from a 14.5% white wine to a 12% red!

Tarn et Garonne, France. 12%

Acid test: Matching seafood and Sauvignon (Dourthe No. 1 2004)

White wine often makes a nice apertif. Sauvignon Blanc is no exception. In fact it is the perfect before-dinner drink. Zippy and refreshing, this grape does a good job at waking up your tastebuds and getting them ready for meal that lies ahead.

There is a reason for this. Sauvignon Blanc can pack dangerous astringency -- both in the form of citrus flavours and heightened levels of acidity. It is the kind of combination that can often grind to a halt the enjoyment of creamy and rich courses. (You'll be disappointed if you blindly pair this wine with fish -- a salmon-based rosé sauce on pasta, for example is a screamingly bad partner for most Sauvignon. I know because I tried it.)

WINE AND FOOD RATIONALIZATION

That does not mean that Sauvignon Blanc should be removed from food settings. There are so many great matches for it. You are just advised not to match it with your creamier dishes. Cheese can work and work well, especially cheese on a pizza. The tomato sauce will complement the acidity in the wine. I recommend a seafood pizza in particular. The crab-meat, shrimp and scallops will make your meal sing.

And here is the song: Dourthe No. 1 2004. From Bordeaux, this wine falls under the general Bordelais appellation (AOC). This means it's a good value (click on the bottle image for retail information).

NO-RISK DRINKING

Vignobles Dourthe has always been a reliable bargain-priced producer of international grape varieties. This 2004 vintage, which for the first time is indicated as a Sauvignon Blanc varietal on the front label, is no different.

The 2004 Dourthe No. 1 is a pale golden colour. On the nose, hints of brioche and yeast emerge while luscious white fruit and a touch of spice are clean and crisp on the palate. There's a slightly racy edge to it but everything remains well-balanced. Its bracing mouthfeel is replete with starfruit banana-like fruit notes. It's got a bit of toast to and a nice even finish.

Parempuyre, France. 12%

Backwash
Blogger's been a bad boy.

Last time it was my own boring drivel that prevented a timely update. This time it was a Monday post turned into a Tuesday-at-two, I'm-at-work-but-now-that-I've-finally-got-a-blogspot-window-I'd-better-upload-on-company-time. Zut alors!

Today's post: "Sauvignon Blank"

This space is devoted to reaction to the recent claims of Mike Steinberger, who wrote that the Sauvignon Blanc "grape is a dud, producing chirpy little wines wholly devoid of complexity and depth ... limp, lemony liquid that grows progressively more boring with each sip."

Winter whites... a flash in the pan, but only if you want them to be: Fortant de France 2003

In the middle of February, summer just couldn't seem further away. Yet here I am sipping more Sauvignon than ever. It may be great preparation for summer, but clearly these whites are no more "summer" wines than seafood is a dish you would only start ordering after April has passed.

Just this weekend, for a special birthday occasion, we uncorked the Château de Cruzeau Pessac-Léognan 2000, an André Lurton wine. It was such a delightful rendering with a noticeable dollop of Sémillon you need no season to enjoy it. A cilantro-infused bouillabaisse with heaps of tiny scallops loves this wine at any time of year.

Just below the Lurton in quality and way below in price is the gem of a bottle shown above. I bought the Fortant de France Sauvignon Blanc 2003 upon recommendation. It was last fall when the 2003 vintage was being replaced on store shelves by the 2004. After tasting all the wonderful European whites that the 2004 vintage has been bringing to the table, I'm sure I'd like the current Fortant offering just as much.

This varietal's nice heady bouquet imparts promise. The nose is similar to well-made and sharply-etched Soaves. In this package, which heils from the Midi, Fortant's Sauvignon doesn't have the finest of finishes but lovely aromatics and pungent pine-apply grip on the palate still make this a tremendous value. If you are at all fond of the cépage, I would encourage you to try out this extremely affordable, simply delicious and thoroughly quaffable wine. It's another strong contender for your everyday wine dollar produced by the Skalli family. (Perhaps I could offer no greater compliment than to write about a two wines in as many weeks from a single producer.)

And if you are accustomed to dousing yourself with Sauvignon as a way to find refreshment on a hot summer's day, think instead about uncorking it now. Bottles like these don't necessarily keep, and when they're next to an inviting dish like this, you wouldn't want them to, no matter what month it is.

Sète, France. 12%.

Lots of red hearts, two elegant whites, one burning question

My tech-writing friends Susan and Frank had me over for a very special dinner on Sunday. I had brought chocolate-orange hearts and a bottle of Château Haut-Bertinerie Premières Côtes de Blaye 2000 (below), a sophisticated Bordeaux from a stellar year. It was made uniquely from Sauvignon Blanc and harvested from vieilles vignes.

But from out of the fridge, Susan was handling another serious white: the
Vieilles Vignes du Domaine Langlois-Château Saumur 2002 (right), a Chenin Blanc varietal benefiting from the Loire's more recent spectacular vintage.

It was an embarrassment of riches. And seeing as I earlier recommended that Frank pick up the Langlois while it was on sale, I was asked to make the choice. Which should we open first? I knew they were baking trout and that they had prepared a salad to start, but the fourth dinner guest had not yet arrived. We would need a nice aperatif now.

I had had the Langlois as a aperatif before. I was among other friends at the time and none of us was very familiar with Chenin Blanc. We were a bit perplexed by its off-dryness and I thought that a grape with such body would do well with some rich food. Susan and Frank's fish was prepared without a sauce -- the richness that Chenin gravitates to -- and instead topped by herbs and caviar, but a lovely rich scalloped potato dish perfumed the room and it was signaling a potential pairing. So I opted to save the 2002 Chenin and go for the older, drier Bertinerie to start.

It was an immediate hit. It tasted even better than I remembered. Vineux, deep tones, excellently balanced. Yes, some Sauvignons can come across this confidently in room full of Chenins and Chardonnays. That 2000 vintage really was remarkable.

Nevertheless, as I drank my aged Sauvignon, I thought that a 2002 Chenin would prove to be no slouch either, and besides, it was not that much younger anyway. While it is rare to progress to younger bottles during a flight of wine, I remained sure of my ordering. The hosts, upon opening their Saumur, were not. They liked the Loire Langlois for its exotic, fruity aromas and noted its superb consistency, but Susan was a straight-shooter: "I'd have to argue that this kind of wine would do so very well on its own, while the smokiness of the Bordeaux would've been an excellent match with the fish."

She was absolutely right on this -- the oak in the Bertinerie was practically custom-made for her oven-cooked trout. Myself, I felt from the first sip of the Saumur that the difference in age actually was palpable, even though only two years separated them. Impossibly, the Chenin seemed lighter and more youthful than the Sauvignon, making my decision on which was the more alluring aperatif a bit off-base. Furthermore, thought the Bertinerie was indeed wonderful to enjoy on its own, when it was followed by the Langlois, the added sweetness of Chenin was not announced as loudly as I was expecting. I could have -- and should have -- reversed them. My worry of progressing to a sweeter wine was clearly unfounded.

But it was a great dinner with great wines -- no real complaint could be made. Instead, what could be made are orders for more of the Bertinerie, to be served with another meal of delicious fish.

Château Bonnet, Entre-Deux-Repas

What a difference a meal makes. In his 2006 wine guide, Michel Phaneuf gave this Bordeaux white from André Lurton a Grappe D'or. So I pick up the Château Bonnet, Entre-Deux-Mers 2004 and wait for the fireworks to go off. I could hardly sense any of them with tuna steak, grilled zucchini and beets as an accompaniment. I thought cooking this arrangement of food would make the white meet its full potential. It didn't. As it turns out, with seafood pizza, it really sings. Practically a miracle transformation. I say that as if I'm lost in the clouds but I'll insist on trying to get this fantastic turnaround in taste down to science...

The thing is that sometimes you think the food you're eating is ruining your wine but you're not 100% sure if it isn't the wine that is off. So I analyse the situation. I had thought beets would be nice with the Bonnet. Why? Well, I make my borscht with a little white wine and it turns out great. And tuna -- how can you go wrong with fish and sauvignon blanc? The zucchini, done Nigella Lawson-style with lots of seasalt and lemon did indeed render itself an excellent complement to the wine. But I wouldn't do either of the other two again. I'll admit for the tuna that I overcooked it and it turned into a dry burger that ended up with virtually nothing fishy about it. My fault. But the beets, what did I do that you let me down? I give you chives, I give you butter -- you make me spit out the Bordeaux from the mouth as I drink it! Subject for further research. Pizza Donini to the rescue. Order their Di Frutti do Maro gourmet pizza for $11.49 sometime. It makes your unoaked white wine sing. Gauranteed. Or rather, guaranteed to indicate that your off wine has got to be sent back.

Grézillac, Gironde, France. 12%.