Nyarai Cellars, Veritas, 2007, Niagara Peninsula VQA

Conventional wisdom states that Niagara is home to serious emerging wines - Rieslings, Sauvignon Blancs, Pinot Noirs, sparkling and ice wines. Mainly those varietals that thrive in Northern France. Canada has many good things. Its weather is not one of them. Following this logic, if you swear by California Cabernet Sauvignon or Australian Shiraz you should probably veer away from Ontario Bordeaux blends or, god help you, shiraz or cab franc blends. Green and tannic come to mind. But what do you expect? There isn't enough sunshine or a long enough growing season to produce big lush wines in the new-world style. You can't squeeze deep, full-bodied reds from five month snow-drifts. Well, that's not necessarily true. An exceptional wine maker in an exceptionally warm year can shatter conventional wisdom with well placed rabbit-punches.

Rocca delle Macie, Chianti Riserva, 2006, Tuscany, D.O.C.G

Italy is a demanding wine region. As a modern nation-state, Italy is just a bit older than Canada. It's an incredibly diverse, complex and slightly illogical cobbling together of micro-regions with distinct idiomatic dialects, cuisines, hand gesturing, blood vendettas, hairstyles, virgins and wine-making styles. Schiopettino. Uva de Troia. Nuragus. Ribolla Gialla. Pignolo. These are neither diseases nor dead Emperors. These are grapes. Varietals that dominate pockets of the country. Having said that, Tuscany is what most people picture when the word Italy is lobbed into a conversation - villas, hilltop monasteries, cyprus trees and those cool straw-cased bottles that you can find in the basement kitchens that Italian mothers cook in so as to avoid wearing out the nice main-floor kitchen.

Osoyoos Larose, Le Grand Vin, 2006, Okanagan Valley

I was in an elegant financial core restaurant a few days ago. At a corner table sat a some businessmen. Not any kind of businessmen. Expense account gladiators. A slowly dying breed. Some deal had been reached. Some return on investment coupe or other tax sheltered conquest. Their hands smacked down on the reclaimed wood table. When the check was dropped, a wrestling contest with corporate credit cards ensued. None of them would back down. Each insisted that their company's shareholders would be taking care of the bill. Ordering another bottle diffused the conflict and ended the questionable groping session. I did like what they were drinking. They were on their third bottle of the 2006 Grand Vin from Osoyoos Larose. It was being decanted and I caught the deep toasted chocolate and sunny black fruit curling over me in muscular waves. I decided that I had every right to try this wine. I didn't order it and swallow the 200 percent markup. There's no need to be foolhardy while getting into imaginary entitlement contests with white collar workers. Pick your battles, is my philosophy. I found the Grand Vin at the LCBO. At $45.00 CAN, Osoyoos Larose isn't the cheapest option, but it is a flagship Canadian wine - one that should be tried whether you're from Kamloops or Bordeaux or Napa.

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.

Clos de L'Obac, 2004, Priorat

Gratallops is a Catalan village at the heart of Priorat. L'Ermita by Alvaro Palacios, Clos Mogador by Rene Barbier and Clos de L'Obac by Charles Pestrana are some of the heavy hitting vintages that have made the likes of Robert Parker do bare knuckle push-ups in the middle of the night from sheer anticipation. Priorat is a beautiful place with steep terraced vineyards that fold and buckle up to this mountain-top town. Gratallops is a bit sleepy in the wintertime but what are you going to do? Drink wine and invade the vines of these world-class winemakers is what I did last February. [...]

Luca Malbec, 2008. Mendoza, Argentina

Me and my buddy Jared were over at the Prohibition Gastropub on Queen St. East - a place best known for grafting duck confit onto Quebecois-style poutine - when I asked him what would come to mind if I shouted 'Malbec!'

     "Argentina"

     "What else?"

     "Big."

     "Big how?" 

     "Big fruit."

I forgave Jared his blunt answer and the possible innuendo associated with that 'big fruit' comment. There was duck confit poutine involved. It tends to narrow the visual focus to a circumference about the size of a poutine ramekim and atrophy the vocabulary. [...]