The Abandoned Wines, Vol. 1

The world is full of neglected wines. And it's a damn shame. All over the globe, dedicated farmers slog through the worst conditions possible to nurture vitis vinifera, one of the most fickle plant species ever to exist; harvesters endure literally backbreaking conditions to bring the ripened fruits of the farmers' labor to wineries; and once there, winemakers toil and think, reasoning their way around vagaries of chemistry and terroir to make grapes turn into delicious wine. And then, some of the best of those wines sit on store shelves, unopened, bottle-aging to perfection until one day they pass their prime and just sit there, fading into obscurity, because you and I are not drinking them.

This must stop. Today is the day to go out and discover (or re-discover) a varietal you never drink, a wine you long ago dismissed, or a wine you never knew about. Where should you start?

Today, think about Chianti. I know, I know, Chianti has immediate joke status. In the sixties and seventies it was a piss-poor, thin, quaffable but characterless red that came in raffia-wrapped bottles that you bought more for the bottle and its use as a drip-candle holder than for the juice inside. In the nineties Chianti was the wine Hannibal Lecter sipped while he ate a census taker's liver. (In the book, it was Amarone, which is far better with liver than Chianti, but who had ever heard of Amarone? In fact, how many of us have enjoyed Amarone? Less than half of those of you reading these words; and even the wine aficionados among us can rarely afford it.)

But Chianti is much, much more than a cheap shot. Do avoid the ones in the straw-wrapped bottles, because they still suck. Spend a few extra dollars and get a decent bottle, like Gabbiano or Santa Margherita. Be forewarned, though, for Chianti is nothing like the reds you drink on a daily basis.Owing to a diverse range of factors including soil chemistry and winemaking technique, Chianti has an almost salty note that falls under the category of "umami", that elusive and utterly satisfying fifth, savory flavor that encompasses such diverse sources as soy sauce, sherry, and cheese.

Why, you rightly ask, should I drink a wine that tastes like that? There are a lot of reasons. The "classic" pairing for Chianti in Italian-American cuisine is tomato sauce. This is anathemic to most authentic Italian cuisine, where tomato is paired with dry but fruity white wines; in fact, the sauce Bolognese that is the basis for American "spaghetti sauce" is almost always made with white wine rather than red. But Chianti works with tomato, and works beautifully, because its faint iodine, sea-salt flavors counterpoint with the acidity and sweetness of tomato like nothing else. Don't believe me? Try it and see.

In Chianti's homeland, however, this jewel among wines is most often coupled with a huge slab of dry-aged, grass-fed beef. Just tonight, my family enjoyed round steak, seared in a cast-iron skillet with sea salt and a dash of olive oil, and we drank a 2006 Chianti alongside. The marriage of wine and meat was ecstatic, to say the least. And yet we spent less than $30 altogether on the meal and the wine. Yes, Chianti is challenging; its aromas are old-book musty like many good European wines, and its flavors have not even a touch of the residual sweetness we good Americans like in our reds. But when it hit the palate after a rich bite of beef, no sane mind could wish for more. So what are you waiting for? It's a new year and a new era. It's time to expand your horizons. It doesn't matter if you buy Chianti or not. Go out and buy something you haven't tried before. If you have questions, ask someone whose palate you trust. At the end of the day, it is our duty as wine lovers to insure that no category of wines, no matter how inaccessible or challenging, falls by the wayside. I wish you well, and bid you keep drinking only the good stuff.