Seghesio Zinfandel, Sonoma County, California, 2009

Zinfandel is burly, opinionated, up in your face, intoxicating and - in the end - pretty gripping company. I'm not talking about white Zinfandel. That stuff is mostly criminal. But true Zinfandel is satisfying and honest. Blackberry and strawberry patch. Surges of pepper, oregano, thyme. Moderate tannins. High, high alcohol and uppercuts of fruit. Zinfandel didn't originate in the United States, however. DNA testing has traced its origins to Croatia and has also revealed that it is the same grape as Italian Primitivo. The Seghesio Family is Italian. Piedmont Italian. Their California vineyards lie where three important Sonoma Appellations meet - Dry Creek Valley, Russian River Valley and  Alexander Valley - and the family has been making Zinfandel since the late 1800s. Some of the Sonoma's finest Zinfandels. Their 2007 vintage made the Wine Spectator's Best 100 Wines of 2008. #10 on that list. 

Pirramimma Shiraz, 2006, McLaren Vale, Australia

Longing. Hankering. Ache. Need. Lust. Call it what you like. I've been craving a big Australian shiraz alongside fillet mignon for about a week. I've made a point of ignoring this caveman call. I've staged rational internal point-by-point dialogues along the following lines: 1) You have enjoyed many of Australia's shiraz specimens. Try something else. 2) You're palate is supposed to be evolving - flowing from the jammy black fruit, chocolate, vanilla and pepper highlands to the quiet valley floor where subtle flavours of earth, fungi, barnyard and dry-aged meat frolic about in huge Burgundy glasses. 3) Look to your left, on the Blog List Bubble thing: the two largest words are BEEF and SYRAH. Don't be a wine heathen. People will question your character. I don't know about my character, but I believe my palate is a touch slow or maybe dyslexic. It could require professional tutoring.

Wunsch et Mann, Gewurztraminer, 2008, Alsace, France

The Super Bowl is history. Much like my ability to digest pulled pork. I need something light, aromatic, and exotic. Something that I might seamlessly intertwine with the characteristics of the fragrant Alsace Gewurztraminer I picked up last July after a few too many Lychee Martinis by the poolside. Nostalgia is a dangerous lady. Yes, I am old enough to recall the golden summers of lychee martinis.

Chateau de Gourgazaud, 2008, Minervois

I have a tier system for the wines in the closet: the daily (-$15), weekly (-$30), monthly (-$50) and - once I've made the necessary calculations and drawn the necessary diagrams - the sacred yearly wine. I don't particularly want to crack my bottle of 2005 Chateau de Beaucastle some dreary Wednesday night while watching a home renovation program on HGTV, gripping as these episodes can be. Witnessing some drama queen lose out on the perfect sink or wallpaper gives me more satisfaction than it should. Don't judge me. The point is this: in order to suffer such spirit-killing spectacles I need wine. Not spectacular wine. But good wine. Value wine. Wine that I would offer as a house wine if I had a restaurant. Wine that I can add to a pot while cooking with no qualms or hesitation. The 2008 Chateau de Gourgazaud is one of my daily wines.