They’re the best and the worst glasses for the very same reason: they fully reveal the character of a wine. This is a desirable attribute when the wine is first-rate and a decided drawback when the wine is simply okay.

As one who drinks both kinds of wine - though sadly more of the latter than the former – I tend to drink from my “regular” wine glasses: the Riedel Ouverture Magnums. These are good all-purpose wine glasses that cost a third of their Zalto counterparts ($25 versus $75) and the difference is discernible when I compare the wine in each of the two. A passable wine proves much more palatable in the Riedel – its shortcomings less starkly showcased - while the wine in the Zalto is unforgivingly revealed. Often as not in the Zalto glass I’d find aspects of the just-okay wine I didn’t particularly like.

Wine professionals I’ve talked to over the years (all diehard Zalto fans) have confirmed my impression - and noted it as one they’ve experienced themselves. A top New York wine director once described wine glasses to me as “speakers for wine” when I noted my findings. His analogy seems apt if you consider how a glass can accentuate both stellar qualities and flaws. Perhaps that’s why top sommeliers love Zaltos, as they certainly drink great wines more often than I do.

The accuracy of the Zalto glass is attributed to its design: its bowl is precisely tapered at an angle said to mimic the tilt of the earth. Named after revered wine guru and Catholic Priest Hans Denk, the Denk’Art Zalto Universal glass is produced from hand-blown, lead-free Austrian crystal that is delicate yet dishwasher-safe. I prefer to put my Zaltos in the dishwasher rather than wash them by hand- fearful I might accidentally snap off a stem.

There is one fact about the Zalto Universal glass that has long puzzled me. While its name suggests this glass could flatter any wine, the Zalto website suggests otherwise. In fact, there are several wines specifically noted as best suited to the Universal Glass.

One of the wines cited by Zalto that gets my vote as the most “universal-ish” is Grüner Veltliner, the de facto national grape of Austria that is famously flexible with all kinds of food including hard-to-pair artichokes and asparagus. Grüner certainly seems a lot more universal in its appeal than the other wines Zalto cited as suited to its Universal: “Riesling, mineral-edged Chardonnay, Chianti and complex sparkling wines.”

The Grüner I selected for my Zalto Universal – the 2025 Ott Fass 4 Grüner Veltliner ($30) - was made by Bernard Ott, a first-rate biodynamic winemaker based in the Wagram region of Austria who focuses exclusively on Grüner Veltliner.

Katja Scharnagl, an Austrian native and the Portfolio Ambassador for Austrian, German and Slovenian wine at Skurnik Wines & Spirits in Manhattan told me that the Fass 4 bottling is “something of a calling card for the estate- a wine that sits beautifully between everyday Grüner and the more serious single vineyard wines.” A crisp white marked by aromas of herbs, citrus and spice that were both lifted and precise, the Fass 4 was as much a joy to drink as my Zalto glass was a joy to (be) hold.

I don’t know if there is really such thing as a universal wine or for that matter, a universal wine glass. I guess “universal” is in the eye – and the mouth - of the oenophile. It’s certainly more marketable - and more succinct - than what I call “An Amazing Wine Glass.”

I’ve been a big Aligoté fan for a long time. This second-place (though not second-class) white grape of Burgundy delivers delicious drinking at a reasonable price. Marked by a trademark bright acidity and notes of citrus and green apple, Aligoté is especially memorable when it’…

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I’d met Brittney a year or so ago and was as impressed by her knowledge as I was her passion for wine. Brittney practically bounced between bottles as she pointed out her favorites, one after another. In her role of category manager at Gary’s Brittney buys wines from a wide range of places - from Germany and Austria to Beaujolais, France and all South America – which means she has many favorite wines.

Brittney also spends time in the store helping customers choose bottles, and that’s where I found her one recent Saturday morning. Brittney was helping a customer named Roger who confessed he drank a narrow range of wines until Brittney widened his world. Roger held up the two bottles that Brittney had just selected for him: the 2021 Château Bourbon la Chapelle and the 2024 Mastroberardino Lacryma Christi del Vesuvio (the rosso). “I’ll be back next week,” Roger declared.

I explained to Brittney that a young man had approached me for guidance and I wondered if she had some advice I might share. Brittney’s suggestions echoed my own: find wine-passionate friends, open bottles, try wines. “Having a community is super important,” she said - although Brittney, unlike me, counts many wholesale wine sales reps as her friends.

Like me, Brittney reads lots of wine books but unlike me she also consumes a lot of social media too. She told me Instagram is an important source of information for her as well as her wine professional friends. A few of her favorites include @christy.frank.wine, @doreenmwinkler, @brianneday, @vomboden and @winewithjimmy, the account of wine educator Jimmy Smith who had been of great assistance to Brittney with her wine studies.

I knew some of the people Brittney cited but didn’t follow them on social media so I decided to have a look. I found pictures of beautiful places and bottles and in the case of Jimmy Smith, an educator who was as entertaining as he was informative.

Jimmy Smith reminded me of Brittney as I watched him bound from one place to another, one bottle to the next - as wildly enthusiastic as he was boldly clad. For an example of Jimmy’s style, check out his June 12th Instagram post from Chianti Classico in Tuscany. Flashily attired in an orange bow tie, patterned shirt and suspenders bedecked with badges, Jimmy exuded both impressive energy and sartorial dash.

I’ll be following Jimmy and a few of the others that Brittney recommended and will suggest to the young liquor store employee that he consider doing the same - along with reading wine books and opening bottles with like-minded friends.

In the meantime, no visit with Brittney would be complete without buying a bottle of wine that she recommends. Brittney had more than a few in mind that I should try but I chose the Markus Molitor Riesling Sekt Brut ($17), an ultra-dry German sparkling wine from a pioneer in his country’s sparkling wine production. Marked by notes of pear and spice, it was a very light, very attractive aperitif that I poured for some very appreciative friends. I might not have noticed the wine at all had it not been for Brittney. Like Roger, I will doubtless be back for more of Brittney’s wine selections and sound advice.

When Roger met Brittney his world of wine grew exponentially larger. Roger and Brittney with two of her most recent Roger-specific wine recommendations.

I thought of his assertion this past weekend on a quick trip during which I visited two restaurants where wine was clearly an afterthought. The first restaurant, located in New York’s Hudson Valley, was billed as the locals’ favorite while the second, in Litchfield, Connecticut, had a lovely lake view.

The wines by the glass at the Hudson River Valley establishment were not on a list but delivered verbally by the server: “Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc, Pinot Grigio, Rosé and Cabernet.” I chose the Pinot Grigio - which turned out to be the 2025 Le Rime Toscana Pinot Grigio ($10 a glass) - to accompany my surprisingly good plate of fried fish. Soft and simple, it was the ultimate expression of an innocuous wine.

At the Litchfield, Connecticut restaurant, located in a lakeside hotel, I opted for a glass of Aichenberg Grüner Veltliner Niederösterreich ($8) which my server said was a particularly popular choice (there was no vintage listed and my server did not know the year). It was drinkable but also so neutral that I briefly forgot it was wine.

These wines served as a reminder that there are many mediocre wines produced and sold - and regularly poured - in restaurants all over the world. They are wines that fill a certain (fiscal?) niche but are forgettable at best. And yet, with just a bit more effort on the part of restaurateurs, their customers might enjoy better versions of both.

For example, instead of Le Rime Pinot Grigio, the restaurant owner might have chosen the similarly-priced Elena Walch Pinot Grigio from Alto Adige –a lovely crisp version of the grape. Instead of the Aichenberg Grüner, the hotel owners might have poured an excellent Schloss Gobelsburg Kamptal Grüner Veltliner for just a few dollars more.

But when such superior options aren’t exercised, I have a piece of advice should you happen to dine at a restaurant featuring less than thrilling wines by the glass: go for the most popular wine since the bottle has probably been opened recently and therefore, it’s more likely to be fresh. But if the restaurant has a particularly spectacular view, all bets are off.

The view from that lakeside restaurant is lovely; the wine not so much.

On a more upbeat note: Here’s my new favorite summer red

2024 Domaine Fontaine-Gagnard Bourgogne Passetoutgrains ($30)

This vivid blend of Pinot Noir and Gamay from star Burgundian winemaker Céline Fontaine is produced from a parcel planted in the 1970s by Ms. Fontaine’s grandfather in a vineyard just inside Chassagne-Montrachet. It’s a lithe and decidedly savory delight that’s pleasantly low in alcohol too. I bought as many bottles as I could find.

(Stay tuned Paid Subscribers for my new favorite summer white!)

According to a Wine Analytics report by NIQ Data in Wine Business News this past June, wine in glass bottles declined nearly 5% while sales of box wines priced over $4 were up 3% and total box wine sales were up 1%. And while these sales weren’t broken down by state North Dakota may be at the top of the list; I’ve seen the photographs.

The photographs (see below) were taken at Happy Harry’s Bottle Shops - Fargo and Grand Forks - where there are multiple long aisles of box wines. I was so impressed by the magnitude of the selection I called Happy Harry’s President and CEO Dustin Mitzel to chat.

Box wines have been big at Happy Harry’s for some time said Mr. Mitzel but they took a big upward tick in the post-pandemic years. While Black Box leads the category at his stores, he also does a brisk business with Franzia and Bota Box and recently received a request for Gratsi, a pricey box wine that costs $39 but it isn’t distributed in North Dakota – at least not yet.

Coincidentally, I received samples of three Gratsi wines in red, white and rosé in the past month - some of the first samples I’ve tasted in my post-Wall Street Journal life. I was impressed first and foremost with Gratsi’s packaging – the color and shape of the boxes - all pastel shades and snazzy typeface. The wines inside were pretty good - a zingy white that tasted like Sauvignon Blanc and a light-bodied red that was soft like Merlot, but the pink was my favorite - a bright, lively light-bodied thoroughly drinkable wine.

Unlike many box wines, the Gratsi boxes do not sport the name of a country or grape though I found out the fruit is sourced from Languedoc, France (and the white is in fact Sauvignon Blanc). Each box contains the equivalent of four bottles of wine. The price - $39 per box – makes it a definite outlier among its box peers, most of which cost a fraction as much.

Was the high price a challenge when it came to selling the wines? I asked Gratsi’s CEO and founder Stephen Vlahos whom I reached at home in Alabama. On the contrary, Mr. Vlahos replied. The pricing was deliberate. “I didn’t want to compete with Bota Box. I almost wanted there to be sticker shock,” he added.

Mr. Vlahos wanted drinkers to feel a certain amount of pride when they brought an (upscale) box wine to a party- but he also wanted the wine to be accessibly styled. His model was the simple wine he drank in taverns and simple restaurants in Europe where drinkers don’t know the wine’s origin or name of the grape.

The sticker price of Gratsi clearly hasn’t been shocking: sales and production of Gratsi have climbed steadily upward since its launch in 2021- from 2,000 boxes the first year to over 500,000 boxes today, with the expectation of hitting 1 million next year. Most sales so far have been direct to consumer although the company now has a growing list of wholesale distributors in multiple states- and North Dakota may soon be on the list.

My state (New Jersey) is among those where Gratsi is distributed although it wasn’t easy to find at my local store – shelved in a small section of wines that included low-calorie, low-sugar and no-alcohol options under the dubious title “Lifestyle Wines.”

Since I don’t drink wine on account of my “lifestyle” (I don’t even know what mine might be labeled) and I don’t want to drink the same wine over and over again (the wine in the box, once opened, is said to stay fresh for a month when it’s refrigerated) I gave the rest of the Gratsi wines to my friend Tom who had a big family gathering planned at a beach house in Rhode Island.

Upon his return home Tom reported that the wines had been a big hit (particularly the red) with his family. The convenience, reliability and sheer amplitude of supply made everyone happy. Maybe I will suggest those descriptors as a selling point to my local retailer. They sound more compelling than “lifestyle wine” don’t you think?

A Good Non-Box Wine

Another sample wine I received and liked: Simonnet-Febrve Crémant de Bourgogne Brut- a creamy Champagne-method sparkling wine from a long-established Chablis domaine. It’s made predominantly from Chardonnay with a bit of Pinot Noir and priced around $20. Although I received this wine as a sample, I’d definitely buy a bottle or two.

A word about samples: The wines that appear in this column are wines that I’ve purchased unless otherwise noted.

That was the thought that occurred to me during my recent very brief trip to Long Island’s North Fork. This scenic peninsula sandwiched between Long Island Sound and the Peconic Bay is a region whose brilliant light has inspired generations of painters and whose soil has nurtured generations of farmers – and more recently generations of winemakers too.

I lived on the North Fork for some years before it became a fashionable destination- long before anyone would think to label it “the ‘other’ Hamptons” except as a joke. Today’s North Fork -- a mere 100ish miles east of Manhattan -- teems with tour buses and tourists and the McMansions far outnumber ranch houses among the new builds. Its roads and winery tasting rooms are crowded with day trippers from Brooklyn and beyond.

I’m glad on behalf of the region’s vintners for this development although it’s a far cry from the place I first visited and later lived years ago. It’s even more greatly changed from the time when Louisa and Alex Hargrave famously planted the first vinifera grapes on the North Fork.

When the Hargraves arrived in 1973 Louisa said that the North Fork was “a place largely hidden from the consciousness of most New Yorkers.” It was also a place that (most) people thought was entirely unsuited to growing grapes.

Louisa and Alex Hargrave came to the North Fork with a great deal more hope than hands-on winemaking experience. The region was chiefly famous for potatoes — not the sort of crop that inspired tourism, as Louisa pointed out.

The Hargraves planted grapes such as Pinot Noir and Cabernet Sauvignon and not only achieved recognition for their efforts but inspired other winemakers to follow suit. And now, some fifty years on, I wondered how did Louisa feel about this seeming glut of tourism that she had possibly helped to inspire?

Louisa wasn’t surprised. “It’s a sign of our success and something I anticipated for years,” she said, adding that the recent arrival of small farmers to the region was also a boon- farmers who didn’t harvest grapes but garlic and mushrooms.

I first met Louisa some twenty years ago- well after she and Alex had divorced and sold their Cutchogue-based winery to the Borghese family who renamed the winery after themselves. Although Marco and Ann Marie Borghese have since sadly passed away their son Giovanni Borghese carries on, overseeing both the winery and vineyard and Louisa still lives in the same lovely Cutchogue farmhouse, cultivating a garden of flowers instead of grapes.

If you want to read more about Louisa and the history of winemaking on Long Island, I highly recommend her wonderful and sometimes heartbreaking book: The Vineyard: The Pleasures and Perils of Creating an American Family Winery (published in 2003).

Russell McCall also has deep roots in the North Fork; his family has owned land in the region for well over 100 years although his winery, McCall Wines, is a more recent endeavor. The first McCall vintage was 2007 (which I had the pleasure of tasting) and the McCall tasting room - a charming repurposed barn - opened in 2010.

I’ve been a fan of McCall Wines from the very beginning – from their Pinot Noir to their Sauvignon Blanc and the 2025 McCall Marjorie’s Rosé ($24), a blend of Syrah and Merlot that I drank with a dear friend on the deck of her North Fork home. Soft with a slightly savory quality, this blend of Syrah and Merlot is weightier than a wispy Provençal pink - its balance between ripe fruit and bright acidity is, to me, the very essence of a good wine from the North Fork.

The first book was the 50^th anniversary edition of Hugh Johnson’s Pocket Wine Book 2027 with General Editor Margaret Rand. I have been a huge fan of Hugh and his guides, both reliable sources of information, long before there was an Internet.

Hugh published his first pocket guide in 1977 while also publishing full-size guides about gardening and wine. When I interviewed Hugh (I called him “Hugh” and not “Mr. Johnson” because I’d known him for years) in my Wall Street Journal column on the 45^th anniversary of his pocket guide, Hugh told me that the “pocket” size was his publisher’s idea. The publisher, Mitchell-Beazley, challenged him to cram all the important stuff he knew about wine into a pocket-size guide. “And 12 months later he came back and wanted another,” Hugh said, referring to the next edition. “I trapped myself into an every-12-months task.”

The 2027 guide is the same diminutive size but as mighty as its 49 pocket predecessors and is likewise printed in the same tiny typeface and crammed with up-to-date information about wines, wineries and cheese with lots of fun asides in (small) red type. Sample: “The Pago de los Balancines winery in Spain is a must-visit for lovers; they breed ‘huge mastiffs.’”

There is even a vintage guide to wine regions which proved useful in a debate that I had with a friend about the 2022 versus 2023 vintage in Chablis. I employed Hugh’s guide to prove my point: On 2023 “Summer oscillated between heat/rain. Challenging; results generally gd.” And 2022? “Well-balanced wines in gd volumes, despite heat and drought.” (Yes, I was and am pro 2022 wines.)

The only thing missing from this petite, but profound book is Hugh himself. The forward, “Agenda 2027,” is written by the very capable Margaret Rand.

The second book How to Drink Natural Wine by Rachel Signer was one that I turned to when I tasted a bottle of natural wine - the 2022 Domaine Glinavos “Paleokerisio” - a semi-sparkling Greek orange wine that I’d purchased before and liked- but that greatly disappointed the second time around.

The previous bottle had been a spritzy, off dry spicy delicious drink while the second smelled like a barn and tasted like wet hay. What had happened between the first and second bottles? Perhaps How to Drink Natural Wine could explain it to me?

I thumbed through the pages of the nicely designed book (also petite though not pocket-size) until I came to the chapter “Natural Wine & Potential Flaws.” That seemed like a good place to start though the opening line read like a warning: “There’s a reason that enologists started adding commercial yeasts, sulfites, and so on to wine in the first place: stability. These products ensure that a wine will turn out untransmutable and consistent, no matter what the vintage provides.” That sounded like a good argument for sulfites to me.

And yet, Ms. Signer said, “What’s enticing about natural wines, however, is that they reflect the peculiarities of a certain year, telling a unique story about a place and time, without any kind of veil to hide behind.” Though she noted the various flaws a drinker might encounter in a natural wine (oxidation, mousiness, volatile acidity and reduction), Ms. Signer also noted that natural wine drinkers might be somewhat tolerant when it came to wine flaws: “In conventional wine culture, a flaw makes a wine totally undrinkable and unsellable. Within natural wine, we can be a little more forgiving.” She even suggested it was all part of the fun. “The gamble is part of the pleasure.”

So perhaps the weird wet hay wine wasn’t the problem. It was my non-gambling non-flaw-forgiving self. As Taylor Swift sang “It’s me. Hi, I’m the problem. It’s me.”

This week’s (non-natural but certified organic) recommended wine:

Kuentz-Bas Crémant d’Alsace ($20)

I am a big fan of the wines of Alsace, including their traditional-method (aka Champagne-method) sparkling wines labeled “Crémant.” (Wine made by this method outside of Champagne may be labeled “Crémant” with the region of origin attached.) This delightful blend of Pinot Auxerrois and Pinot Blanc is a rich slightly creamy slightly toasty sparkling wine from a terrific Alsace producer that left me and my friends wanting more.

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Lisa’s decanting zeal was greeting with disbelief bordering on outrage among oenophiles on a certain now-defunct wine forum. These oenophiles (all of whom were male as I recall) actually maintained an ongoing thread about the wines that its members said Lisa had decanted. I was equal parts intrigued and impressed. Who was this remarkable young woman possessed of such decanting passion?

And so it came to pass that the next time I was in Napa (interviewing Francis Ford Coppola for my Food & Wine column) I made it my business to drop by the restaurant where Lisa worked. I ordered a white wine- it was so long ago I can’t recall the exact wine- but it was something light and bright (i.e. not one that most soms would decant). Lisa asked if I wanted her to decant it. I replied: Yes. (Of course.)

It wasn’t that the wine “needed” decanting for the usual reasons (e.g. to aerate the wine which softens the tannins and/or releases the aromatic compounds of a wine). It was that Lisa, like me, loved the act of decanting- removing a wine from a “regular” wine bottle and pouring it into something even more beautiful to behold.

Indeed, the beauty of the decanter is a(nother) factor in my decision to decant. My (late) father was in the glass business and his love of beautiful glassware is a passion he passed down to me. Like my father I don’t just own all sorts of glassware but many different types of decanters as well.

I have conventional wine decanters from Riedel, cut glass decanters from classical glassmakers like Waterford Crystal and a bunch of decanters of unknown origin that I’ve picked up from estate sales or yard sales over the years. (Tip: the best place to buy a beautiful decanter is at an estate sale. Estate sale managers don’t seem to prize decanters overmuch and they’re almost always bargain-priced.)

While I’ll employ the “serious” decanters like my Riedel “O” for serious reds that need real decanting for the classical reasons (see above) I’ll turn to my beautiful less practical decanters for all the rest- especially whites and rosés. One of my favorites of this type of decanter (depicted) is one that my husband or I picked up at a yard sale.

Indeed my husband and I both love this particular decanter so much we both claim credit for its discovery - and we’re equally happy to put it to use- as we did just the other night. The wine that I chose to decant- a simple young Grüner Veltliner- may not have tasted different thanks to decanting but it was that much more enjoyable to view poured from beautiful glassware. My father would have approved.

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Such was the vinous puzzle that came to mind after I tasted four wines that were virtually indistinguishable from one another. Aside from slightly different labels and varying bottle shapes, the four Provençal pinks that I purchased proved remarkably uniform in color and taste. Indeed, my tasting notes featured the same words on repeat: pale peach to pinkish salmon colored, soft textured with mild aromas of florals and red fruit. It was as if some Provençal winemaker had crafted a winning formula and shared it with his local peers- though the truth behind such uniformity likely owes more to marketing than to winemaker fraternity.

The wines I tasted ranged between $15 and $25 a bottle and included some of the most popular and widely distributed pinks: 2025 Chateau Minuty Prestige Côtes de Provence Rosé ($20); 2025 Chateau Peyrassol Les Commandeurs Côtes de Provence Rosé ($25); 2025 Mas de Cadenet Côtes de Provence Cru Sainte-Victoire Rosé ($18) and 2025 Roseblood d’Estoublon Coteaux de Varois en Provence Rosé ($15). This last wine was packaged in a much more distinctive flagon-like bottle than the other three although its taste profile was very much the same.

While I registered small differences from one wine to another—one wine was a bit lighter, another slightly more aromatic—these distinctions seemed incidental, even irrelevant. They were wines of a certain style and place. They were wines intended to represent an idea of a wine rather than a wine itself and while they were all perfectly acceptable and easy to drink they were completely forgettable by the following day.

After this rather less-than-thrilling endeavor, I decided to buy two other French pinks from another part of France, namely the Loire Valley. Both wines were made by producers whose non-rosé wines are some of my favorite Loire bottlings – red and white - and both were wines I’d definitely buy again.

The 2025 Lauverjat Moulin de Vrillères Sancerre Rosé ($20) proved to be a toothsome bright 100% Pinot Noir wine from one of my favorite producers of well-priced Loire wines. Indeed, the Lauverjat Menetou-Salon is one of my favorite Sancerre-alternative whites (although the Lauverjat Sancerre is very good too).

The 2025 Olga Raffault Chinon Rosé ($24) is a Cabernet Franc from another producer whom I’ve long admired and visited (too) long ago. A big, juicy delight of a drink – bigger and pinker with greater depth of flavor than the rosés of Provence - it was particularly good with a wide range of food.

Two delicious Loire Valley pinks

Bonus Pink: My last favorite pink isn’t from France but from faraway Australia: the 2025 Alkoomi Rosé ($15) is produced at a family-owned estate in the Frankland River region Western Australia. A Malbec-dominant blend of several red grapes, the Alkoomi (whose name means “a place we chose” in Aboriginal language) may lack the whispery delicacy of a Provence pink and it’s a tad higher in alcohol but it delivers a decidedly delicious Aussie-style punch.

COMING SOON: The best piece of practical advice I received from a (late) great wine writer. For paid subscribers only.

Take, for example, the Chablis I brought to a dinner with friends last week: the 2023 Domaine Gilbert Picq et Ses Fils Vauclaire Chablis ($32). Produced by one of my favorite Chablis domaines, this wine was not only a textbook example of a terrific Chablis (beautifully balanced with racy acidity, a wonderfully savory minerality and a finish that went on and on), but it came with a poignant backstory too.

Located in the tiny Chablis village of Chichée, Domaine Gilbert Picq et Ses Fils is a family-owned domaine founded by Gilbert Picq and now run by his sons Didier and Pascal and their sister Marilyn. The Picqs’ “basic” Chablis AOC is a staple in my cellar- a wine I buy year after year after year – it’s that reliably good. It’s also very reasonably priced although the price, as with the price of all white Burgundies, has crept up a bit. It’s now around $30 a bottle- which is still a (relative) bargain to me.

In addition to their AOC Chablis the Picq family produces other notable wines including several premier cru Chablis, an old vine (Vielles Vignes) Chablis and the Vauclaire bottling. Vauclaire is one of the 12 vineyard parcels that are blended into the Picq AOC Chablis. But in 2022 the Picqs decided to begin bottling it separately as an homage to Didier Picq’s good friend and neighbor Jean-Louis Subtil.

M. Subtil was a great taster and a great fan of Chablis from the Vauclaire parcel and when M. Subtil, who split his time between Paris and Chablis, died in a tragic bike accident, Didier Picq made the separate Vauclaire bottling in his friend’s honor.

The 2023 vintage I tasted and loved will be succeeded by the 2024 vintage which will be in the market this fall according to Michael Daniels, a partner of Vintage ’59 Imports. Mr. Daniels noted that the Picq family will continue to produce the Vauclaire bottling as long they believe they can do so “without compromising the quality” of the basic AOC Chablis.

As I read more about the Picq family on the Vintage ‘59 Imports website I discovered yet another great backstory: Didier Picq is a devoted equestrian who likes to ride his horse all over Chablis - an idea that thrilled this horse-mad journalist. And when I requested further details, Mr. Daniels responded with a picture of Kiowa, a beautiful chestnut Arabian- thereby shifting this backstory into the realm of a beautiful dream.

Have you tasted a wine recently that came with a great backstory? If so, please share.

Knicks Captain Jalen Brunson and dad after the Knicks clinched the championship.

Above: Didier Picq’s beautiful horse Kiowa (photograph by Didier Picq). Below: Picq’s terrific Chablis.

While couples may routinely splash out on music, flowers and food, when it comes to choosing a red and a white to accompany the wedding dinner, the decision always seems based on economics, i.e., the wine must be cheap.

I’ve been served some of the worst wines of my life at weddings: Bulgarian Merlot, Connecticut Chardonnay (yes, really) and more cheap “California” appellation Chardonnay and Cabernet than I care to remember, not to mention some very dodgy Sauvignon Blanc.

Why newly married couples choose to celebrate the happiest day of their life with wines sure to give their friends and family migraines is beyond my comprehension. Why is this true? I’ve asked over and over and the answer is always some version of the same two words: Nobody cares. Nobody but nobody- not the bridal couple, nor their family or friends. No one is thinking about the wine in their glass, I’ve been told by wedding planners, catering professionals and even some sommeliers.

I’d posit that far more people care about wedding wine than wedding flowers. In fact, I’d say the number of flower-focused diners is likely far eclipsed by wine drinkers like me who would just like a glass of something drinkable to accompany the wedding chicken, meat or fish.

I’ve experienced some exceptions to the bad-wedding-wine rule: the wine at my wedding(s) and those of a few oenophile friends. And much more recently I attended a wedding at the elegant The Fearrington House Inn in Pittsboro, North Carolina where the now-happily-married couple served a very good Champagne – Lanson Le Rosé Creation 67 -in liberal amounts to a large and happy crowd.

The Lanson wasn’t on the Inn’s wine list but one that the bridal couple had chosen themselves- something that happens “maybe once a year,” according to Fearrington Village Wine & Beer Director Troy Revell. “90% opt for Mirabello Prosecco,” said Revell.

Was there a story behind the selection of Lanson Champagne? I asked George the groom, and newly married husband of my cousin Christine. Indeed, there was, said George who happily recalled how, on a trip to Italy a few years ago, he and Christine were drinking Lanson. “That was the first time I told Christine I loved her.”

Needless to say theirs was not only one of the best wines I’ve ever been served at a wedding- but one of the best wedding wine stories as well. And their wedding flowers? They were fabulous too.

Here’s to happily ever afters with (lots of) great Champagne!

The doctor’s implication was clear: only cheap wines are closed with a screwcap and a freelance writer could only afford to drink bargain-priced wines. “I drank screwcap wines when I had a job,” I imagined informing this new-to-me doctor but decided to educate him a bit about screwcap wines instead.

Did the good doctor know that most of the wines from countries like Austria and New Zealand are closed with screwcaps – from their cheapest offerings to some of their very best bottles? Did he not realize that screwcap wines are produced by great winemakers all over the world- from California to Argentina to Burgundy to the Finger Lakes in New York? These wines weren’t mass-produced plonk but even included three-figure Napa Cabernets. For example, Plumpjack Winery in Oakville has long produced a top Cabernet Sauvignon under both screw and cork. “I’m not much of a wine drinker,” the doctor said.

It’s certainly a very different screwcap situation than it was 25 years ago when a group of New Zealand winemakers launched their “New Zealand Screwcap Wine Seal Initiative” advocating widespread use of the closure. I was in New Zealand soon after the initiative launched and I witnessed (and was occasionally drawn into) many a heated discussion about the closure. The group eventually triumphed and today some 90% of Kiwi wines are closed by screwcap.

I’m a big believer in screwcap wines – especially white and pink wines intended to be consumed within a year or two of bottling. I probably drink at least one screwcap wine each week- especially when I’m going somewhere BYOB and don’t want to worry about the possibility of bringing a wine that is corked.

How many (non-cheap) screwcap wines do I actually own? After meeting with the non-oenophile doctor I went down to my cellar to potentially rebuke his point. What I found was, well, some cheap screwcap wine. Not truly cheap but no wine that cost more than $25 a bottle – and many much less though I did find good wines that I’m happy to recommend. Here are four favorites:

2025 Domäne Wachau Grüner Veltliner Terrassen Federspiel $19

This crisp slightly spicy medium-bodied Grüner is produced by a top cooperative winery in the Wachau region of Austria. It’s a wonderfully versatile wine with food- especially with hard-to-pair vegetables like artichokes and asparagus (I paired it with both).

2023 Günther Steinmetz Wintricher Geierslay Riesling “Sur Lie” $20

This delightfully refreshing wonderfully citrusy white (think fresh-squeezed limes) is one of several wines bottled under screwcap at this well-regarded family-owned winery in Brauneberg, Germany. I guess you could say they’re (also) screwcap fans.

2025 Stefano Massone Masera Gavi $13

This Piedmontese dry white is one of my favorite bargain wines year after year from a reliably good Gavi producer. What it may lack in complexity it (more than) makes up for in easy-drinking deliciousness.

2023 Domaine Servin Chablis Les Pargues $25

This bottling from Domaine Servin is one of just a few Chablis that I’ve found bottled under screwcap. I wish there were more such wines but I was glad to find one as good as this dry, minerally white from Domaine Servin.

Addendum: I purchased all of the wines referenced in this (and previous) Substack columns although I recently – and for the first time in more than fourteen years- accepted a few samples that may appear (and will be duly noted) in this column at some future time.

J

I find words like “focused” and “soulful” which some professionals use to describe wines are not only confusing but often downright absurd. Furthermore, I’d wager most wine lovers don’t understand their meaning when applied to a bottle of wine.

I decided to note five such words- including the aforementioned “focused” and “soulful” as some I find particularly irksome and/or confusing. Perhaps, dear readers, you’d care to share some terms you find irksome and/or confusing too?

“Focused”

What is a “focused” wine? Or better yet, what is a wine that lacks focus? The definition of the word “focus” (“operating with a clear, defined purpose”) doesn’t seem to make sense in a vinous context. And yet it shows up repeatedly in many wine writers’ notes. “Focused” seems better suited to describe the taster him or herself and not the wine they’re tasting. For my part, I think a wine’s chief “purpose” is to taste good. Is that what a “focused” wine does? Could “focus” be a synonym for deliciousness? I certainly hope so.

“Intentional”

This word is often employed in tandem with the word above. A wine that is “focused” is often “intentional” too. Every wine that a critic has the opportunity to taste has been produced, bottled and sold, therefore could it not be described as “intentional”? For my part, I’d prefer an “inadvertent” wine -one that its producer didn’t intend to make but that somehow got to the market – a bottle that they just put a cork in and said, “What the heck?!” The unpredictability seems like it could be lots more fun.

“Soulful”

This word appears often among critics not just of wine but also of music and art. It’s presumably an emotional response to something that touches the reviewer’s soul. Or perhaps said reviewer has somehow managed to identify the soul of the music, wine or art. I’m not sure where all this soulfulness resides. Is the wine/music/art the possessor of the soul or is it the one who is drinking it, aka you or me? I say Please keep your soulfulness to yourself.

“Driven”

I’m driven to distraction teetering on rage when this word is applied to a wine. It’s almost always employed in conjunction with another word such as “mineral” or “acid” or “fruit” – those seem to be three favorites – as in “a mineral-driven” wine or a “fruit-driven” wine. Why does it have to be “driven?” If by employing the word “driven” the taster means that the wine is dominated by one aspect or flavor why not say so?

“Curated”

My final peeve is a word which has been overused just about everywhere. Everything everywhere has been “curated” these days including and especially restaurant wine lists. No one simply selects, buys and (over)prices wines on a restaurant wine list; instead a sommelier or a wine director or some ambitious staffer bent on greater recognition is said to have “curated” the wine list. Do restaurant patrons prefer to choose a wine from a curated list rather than from a list whose creation (or creator) is unremarked upon- one that doesn’t include this precious word? I know that I do.

The Promised Pretty Good Definitely Cheap Pink

2025 Kirkland Côtes de Provence Rosé $9

The current Kirkland pink hit my local store a couple of weeks ago and I bought a couple of bottles as I was curious to taste the most recent Kirkland iteration. The verdict? It’s pretty good. A blend of Grenache, Syrah, Cinsault and Vermentino, the 2025 Kirkland Côtes de Provence Rosé is a juicy pink that’s slightly tropical, slightly floral, pretty dry and yes, cheap. It’s a wine to buy for a backyard picnic, a beach afternoon (though it does require a corkscrew) and while I could not detect whether or not it had a soul, I did determine it should be served (very) cold.

Coming Soon for Paid Subscribers: Three Good Pinks

The flyleaf of my father’s college dictionary which was my trusty aid in the writing of this column …

My favorite of all the wine books I wrote whose title says it all.

A wine that may not be soulful or driven but is most certainly intentional.

How often have you visited a city that you didn’t want to leave? That’s how I felt when I visited Portland, Maine last week.

Drawn by its scenery, wine and food, my friend Sheryl and I took a whirlwind trip north. Yes, we saw lighthouses, yes we ate lobster rolls (actually just one that we opted to share given its $50 price) and yes we drank Chablis. But mostly I wondered what it would be like to spend time in a state whose license plate proclaims itself “Vacationland.”

We had plenty of good meals not all of which included wine. There was eclectic lunch fare at the modestly-monikered minute-sized Luncheonette (shout out to the curry chicken sandwich and the cabbage salad) and superb croissants from the Standard Baking Company -which I visited two mornings in a row, arriving early to secure my place in the queue.

Both had been recommended by my friend Peggy Grodinsky, the longtime Food Editor of the Portland Herald Review. Peggy had sent a long list of things to do which included a slew of dinner options. I chose three restaurants: Scales, Leeward and Wayside Tavern. Of the three Leeward had the best wine list. (I opted for the 2024 Vincent Dampt Chablis.)

All three restaurants were favorites of Peggy’s primarily for the food but they became favorites of ours too not just for the quality of the dining but for the bonhomie of the staff as well. Are people in Portland just naturally nice or is it because they live in a city with incredible views of Casco Bay and within an easy drive of the most iconic lighthouse on the East Coast?

One place Peggy didn’t mention because she’s more of a food than wine person (by her own admission) but I wanted to see was Maine & Loire, Portland’s first (and best) natural wine store. Founded in 2015 by former New Yorkers, husband-and-wife team Peter and Orenda Hale who arrived in Maine the year before, the store is home to an array of natural and biodynamic wines in an airy former warehouse space.

The Hales used to have a restaurant (Drifters) as well but running a restaurant was incompatible with family life noted Mr. Hale. The couple now operate a wine bar next to the store but its hours are much more reasonable than those of a restaurant. The wine bar closes promptly 6 p.m.- plenty of time to get home for dinner. “We call it ‘a wine shop you can drink in,’” said Mr. Hale.

The 6’8” tall Mr. Hall was not only the tallest wine merchant I’ve ever met but one of the most congenial. (Perhaps these New Yorkers were already Portland Nice?) The wines were often displayed with informative or encouraging signs, lettered by the artistic Mrs. Hale. For example: “At 10.5% this glassy groulleau is ‘glou glou.’” I’ve never called a wine “glassy” before but made a mental note to soon co-opt the term.

Although I’m not much of a natural wine drinker (as readers of my old WSJ column may recall) there were lots of wines in the Maine & Loire store that I have tasted before and loved- and others I’ve never tasted but wanted to try based on snappy labels alone. “Pork Soda” anyone? (See photo below.)

Mostly I just wanted to stay in Maine longer- a week perhaps even a month- hang out at the wine bar of Maine & Loire, take another few laps around Peaks Island on a bike and dine at the adorable new restaurant Chérie that wasn’t quite open at the time of our visit.

Indeed, Chérie owners Melody Medina and Quinn Williams were putting finishes touches on the menu/wine list when Sheryl and I walked by late one night. I knocked on the window and Mr. Williams opened the door. At my request Ms. Medina handed me the menu/wine list and I was pleased to see such dishes as Maine Halibut, Roast Chicken and Leeks Vinaigrette and wines like François Chidaine Sauvignon Blanc and Moreau-Naudet Chablis on the opposite page. “Come back tomorrow for the opening!” they said.

Alas we were scheduled to fly home the following morning “I will be back!” I said- a promise I have every intention of keeping as soon as possible- maybe as soon as next week?

The iconic Portland Head Light is an easy drive from downtown Portland where (sadly) no wine is available but there a Bite Into Maine (lobster) truck!

Fun wines at Maine & Loire wine shop

Chérie owners Melody Medina and Quinn Williams at their almost-open restaurant

I met Mr. Lynch the younger for the first time at the Kermit Lynch Wine Merchant store in Berkeley, California last week. Although the store is closed on Mondays, it was my last day out West and Mr. Lynch was kind enough to open the store so we might meet. It was an imposition, I said apologetically. But Mr. Lynch gamely insisted it was no trouble at all.

Although the name and the spirit of Kermit Lynch loom large both in his own store and in stores all over the country featuring Kermit Lynch wines, his son now plays many of the roles his now-retired father once held. “I’m picking up a lot of what my dad was doing- on the supply side meeting with producers,” said Mr. Lynch whose formal title is Sourcing and Content Manager. He never actually intended to enter the wine business. “I thought I’d work in the store while I figure my life out,” said Mr. Lynch who began working full time for the company in 2012.

The life that he led - moving between California and France with his family and studying Italian in college - set Mr. Lynch up perfectly for a role in the business. Fluency in both French and Italian is a decided boon to a company specializing in first-rate Italian and French wines. Indeed, the list of wines imported by Kermit Lynch reads like a roll call of the greats: Tempier, Ostertag, Clape and Quintarelli- just to name a (very) few of the (very) many legendary names on the Lynch roster. It’s why wine lovers trust the Kermit Lynch name. My husband (unbidden) recently told me whenever he sees the name “Kermit Lynch” on the back of a bottle, he buys the wine. “I don’t know a lot about wine, but I trust Kermit Lynch wines,” he said. It’s a sentiment I’ve heard expressed by many wine lovers many times.

I’ve known the elder Mr. Lynch for decades– not only as an importer and retailer but also as a writer. His book, Adventures on the Wine Route: A Wine Buyer’s Tour of France, is a classic and a must-read for wine lovers and wine professionals alike. Indeed, his talent as a writer nearly eclipses his reputation as an importer. When I was the Executive Wine Editor of Food & Wine, I assigned Mr. Lynch stories every now and again. We corresponded - author to editor – via fax in those days.

Years later during my tenure as the Wall Street Journal wine columnist I interviewed Mr. Lynch a few times including at Balthazar restaurant in New York. Over glasses of late-morning Muscadet, Mr. Lynch faux-lamented having written his Wine Route book. “I made a huge mistake commercially; I wrote a book explaining what I do,” he said. I don’t believe that is true but I do think he may have inspired other wine importers to try their hand at writing as well since several subsequently wrote similar books of their own- though none as good as the Lynch original.

Today Anthony Lynch writes and edits the Kermit Lynch Wine Merchant newsletters, which he noted could be a bit daunting, considering his father’s reputation as an author. “It’s a lot of pressure; he’s a great writer,” he said.

Mr. Lynch the younger has also taken over blending duties for some of the custom wines the company produces. Might he put his name on a label one day? Would there be an “Anthony Lynch Selection?” There would not. “My dad had the merit of creating a brand that wine drinkers can trust, and if I can uphold that through my own work, offering ‘Selected by KL’ bottlings is the greatest honor,” Mr. Lynch replied.

Anthony Lynch may be the most modest scion I’ve ever met. The business his father built is clearly in very good hands.

Anthony Lynch in the Kermit Lynch Wine Merchant Berkeley store; the 2025 Charles Joguet Chinon Rosé ($27) one of the first rosés his father ever imported- a delicious pink from Chinon in the Loire Valley that I purchased and shared with Berkeley pals who declared upon tasting it “We need to up our rosé game.”

I was in Cute Town One ever so briefly last week to celebrate the landmark birthday of a friend– which meant I spent more time in the cute town than I did in vineyards or winery tasting rooms. In addition to a celebratory meal at the ever reliable the girl & the fig in the town of Sonoma, we opened sparkling wines at a dinner at her home.

My friend loves all kinds of sparkling wine - she once worked at a California sparkling wine company. One evening she opened two bottles of sparkling wine with a pair of specialty sparkling wine pliers obtained from Piper Sonoma, the California sparkling wine house.

First, she opened a bottle of Mumm Sparkling Brut Rose ($20) a pleasantly creamy fruity frothy wine then another California sparkler I’d never heard of before: Breathless Blancs de Blancs ($22), a slightly toasty, light-bodied pleasant-enough sparkler made by a trio of sisters in Healdsburg. Its label—an old-fashioned pin-up girl astride an exploding cork – was more memorable than the wine itself. However mine may be a minority view- according to the Breathless website this particular wine was named “Best in Class” although both class and voters went unnamed.

More notable than either of the wines were my friend’s well-utilized sparkling wine pliers- a tool I’ve never owned. My friend explained that she had trouble opening bottles of Champagne and the pliers – which looked much like a regular pair of pliers- made removing Champagne corks a snap. Actually it was more like a pop than a snap since the pliers made the cork explode in a locker-room like style.

How is it I have lived so long and consumed so much Champagne without having ever employed a pair of Champagne pliers or seeing a sommelier putting said pliers to use in a restaurant? Did professionals employ such tools? I decided to ask a couple top pros.

Master Sommelier Pascaline Lepeltier, Partner and Beverage Director of Chambers restaurant in New York, told me that she has a pair of these pliers but rarely utilizes them save for when the cork “is really slippery and tight” while Carlin Karr, the Wine and Beverage Director of Denver-based Frasca Hospitality Group, like me, has never seen Champagne pliers before.

Since I do encounter particularly tight Champagne corks every now and again perhaps I should consider investing in said Champagne pliers one day- but right now I’m thinking more about the identity of that third Sonoma town. Travelers and fans of Sonoma care to weigh in?

Next Up: A chat with the scion of a California-based wine importer and merchant.

Scenes from my recent Sonoma sojourn

For most pink wine buyers the color comes first. Place of origin isn’t important (though Provence is preferred) and the grape is mostly irrelevant (ask someone to name the grapes of Provence). The shade – preferably a pale peachy salmon- is paramount. And a cool package is a plus.

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The charming Mr. Ax (whom his guests call “Manny” so I will too) poses musical questions to his equally charming, equally talented guests who are by turns thought-provoking and playful. Although the podcast debuted only a few months ago, Manny has already amassed a roster of boldface musical talent among his featured guests. Recent guests include superstar cellist Yo Yo Ma (Manny’s dear friend); Nicholas Britell, the award-winning composer who wrote the stunning soundtrack to Succession as well scores for The Big Short and If Beale Street Could Talk; and David Hyde Pierce aka Niles Crane from Frasier with whom Manny plays a game called Animal or Instrument.

The conversation is casual – it feels like you’re eavesdropping on a chat between two friends- if said friends happen to be musical superstars. The duo will play music (the Manny and Yo Yo duet was my favorite) and field questions from listeners with queries such as “How do pianists with small hands like Alicia de la Rocha handle the really big pieces that need big hands?” and “If I like John Williams’s music what concert pieces might I enjoy?” Both host and guest supply answers. To the latter question Britell suggested Elgar and Holst while Manny chose Strauss.

As one might expect of a show with “Happy Hour” in the title Manny asks his guests to name his or her favorite drink. A few cite wine while a surprising number, including composer Gabriela Ortiz, choose Mezcal although Ortiz also likes a “good dry white.” Britell is a fan of “red wine- French reds, Italian reds- Bordeaux, Barolo.”

For his part, Manny loves the wines of John Kongsgaard, the Napa Valley wine producer as famous for his support of the classical music world as for his Chardonnays, Syrahs and Cabernets. When musicians play at the Kongsgaard estate they are paid in wine, Manny noted in an email. “We love his fantastic Chardonnay, and he has made other whites, which we also adore- a Sauvignon Blanc, an Albariño, and a new blend that is just starting out.”

Manny enjoys less expensive wines too (Kongsgaard wines can be pricey) and named a couple highly affordable wines such as La Vieille Ferme rosé, which costs about $10 a bottle and Cava, the sparkling wine of Spain. “We like a lot of Cava,” he said.

Since Manny didn’t name a specific brand, I decided to do a bit of Cava shopping myself to see if I could find a wine worthy of a musical superstar. I stopped by one of my favorite New York stores -the modestly-monikered “Some Good Wine” where proprietor Jeremy Block, a classical music lover, suggested the Amaltea de Loxarel Brut Nature Reserva Cava ($21) a crisp, minerally biodynamic sparkler that was zippy and bright – not unlike Manny himself!

www.wnycstudios.org/podcasts/classical-music-happy-hour

Photo: Emanuel Ax photographed by Nigel Parry

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