Cheap Wine... and a really good pizza

It was once a popular phrase, and it still carries meaning— living from paycheck to paycheck. More recently it has been the habit of many of us to live from cash machine to cash machine, as my cousin Rich once put it, which amounts to the same thing, I guess. And in the midst of it all, for some of us the seasons are also defined by another sequence of recurring events: we live from wine sale to wine sale.

However difficult the first two of these modes may be, the third has become increasingly easy, as competing wine shops offer promotions with ever-greater frequency. In my neighborhood, which is circumscribed by a triangle stretching from Haskells to Surdyks to Henn-Lake Liquors, a sale is often underway somewhere, and it's a rare time of year when there isn't one at least looming on the horizon in some corner of the bailiwick.

Several of the shops in question send out a sales brochures in the mail a few weeks before the event. I quit marking up these things a long time ago, when it dawned on me that I was merely highlighting the wines with the lowest prices. I also discerned that a very high percentage of the items I seemed to be interested fell into the category of “good with pizza.” I imagine this is connoisseur's lingo for “coarse, undistinguished, mouth-filling flavor. Also cheap.” That sounds OK to me.

Don't get me wrong. I am not an abject bottom-feeder. I have tasted my share of fine Burgundies, classed-growth Bordeaux, Brunellos, better-than-average Rhones, with perhaps a super-Tuscan or two along the way too. Needless to say, I have also enjoyed plenty of Australian and Pay d'Oc wines from the other end of the oenological spectrum. In the course of time I have developed a system based on what I call the three Ps. Depending on their quality, wines may be deemed potable , presentable , or ponderable . Nearly all wines are potable, though one occasionally meets up with an exception. Presentable wines are those with a degree of genuine interest. (Usually our guests are less impressed than we are, alas! But good taste requires that we restrain ourselves from informing them of what a good DEAL we got on it.) And ponderable wines are the ones that make us sit up and take notice, focusing our attention on the nuances within the glass, and within our heads, at the expense of the conversation going on all around us. They have complexity, depth, and finish. They are a testament both to nature and to civilization. They are an event in and of themselves.

If you want to explore the world of ponderable wines, buy a wine magazine. For daily fare, you will invariably find me exploring the upper reaches of the single-digit range. In fact, I have spent several decades on a Grail-like quest to find that elusive 8-dollar bottle of wine that tastes like a 28-dollar bottle. (I think back nostalgically to that Grand Puy du Casse for $4.95, that Marque de Riscal Reserve for $5.50. But that's ancient history) The quest continues.

When a sale arrives, rather than highlighting individual selections and wandering around the store with my nose to the list like a wine geek, I wait a few days for the crowds to thin and then simply wander from zone to zone, picking up items I've never heard of, with the aid of my vast (if spotty) command of European geography. All the while I do my best to maintain a sense of fiscal balance that allows me to take a chance on a 12- or even a 15-dollar wine after I've tossed a few that fall in the 5-6 dollar range into my cart. Spain, for example, or California's Central Coast, the Rhone Valley, Chile, South Africa, and anywhere in Italy from the Veneto to Puglia. There are certainly plenty of zones to explore.

Random suggestions?

Wandering Spain, we hunt out those simple, satisfying Riojas that can sometimes be had for under ten dollars. Montecillo and El Coto always seem to be available during sale-time. Occasionally Conde de Valdemar. (One Rioja that I have never been fond of, though it's widely available, is Marques de Caceres.) And some of the very cheap ones are dreadfully soft and peppery, though Penascal seems to come through with a drinkable rock-bottom red consistently. In recent times wines from other regions of Spain made with the temperanillo grape have become more common. From La Mancha, for example. Try them. Then read Don Quixote .

Meanwhile, from the tiny mountain district of Priorat (5000 acres) come thick wines from old vines made from the granache and carignane grapes, which are not highly thought of elsewhere. Find one and try it. Onix can sometimes fall into our budget range. Otherwise, take a chance. But open it for an hour before sampling.

The wines of Chile, I will admit, often taste a little funny. This may be a product of Andean terroir. Yet why not give these folks a try? Carmen vineyards makes an interesting cabernet and chardonnay. Santa Rita 120 Chardonnay is my choice in the under $5.00 category, and their Reserve Cabernet is still under $10.00. It's interesting, somewhat complex, even a little bit Bordeaux-like? Trapiche Pinot Noir from Argentina is dirt-cheap, and it has a simple “killer” taste. (A new wine category?)

Then we have the Primativos from southern Italy—the long-lost relative of the American zinfandel, though earthier in taste and without quite so much of that gamey raspberry sheen.

Among the whites, I find myself moving back and forth between the bland neutrality of cheap Italian whites and the cotton-candy tastes of cheap California Chardonnays. We buy the low-end white Burgundies—Macon-Village or simply Bourgoyne—hoping for a touch of distinction, often in vain. A move up to Macon-Vire or Les Setilles can sometimes be worthwhile.

Viogniers are always worth a try, French or domestic. And there are plenty of Pinot Grigio's that exhibit a degree of polish and zing . These expressions don't mean much, I guess, but that's about as far as I can go in describing my gustatory impressions.

One Pinot Grigio that I find appealing is Campanile. Maybe I like the label. Anyway, it was chosen by some magazine as a Best Bet. Here is how they describe it:

“The 2003 Campanile Pinot Grigio is a bright straw-yellow color. Floral notes with nuances of pear and honeydew melon fill the nose. Citrus flavors are evident on the palate, delivering complex flavors of green apple and a hint of lemon. The mouth feel is crisp, lively and full in structure, created by the excellent harmony of fruit and acid. The wine is light-bodied, with a long finish that reveals hints of citrus and almonds.”

Like I said—polish and zing.

Another version with lingering subtleties that are rather surprising for this variety and range is from Santi. One wine don put it as follows:

This classy Pinot Grigio is made in a traditional manner being vinified and aged solely in stainless steel. The end result is a bright straw yellow color with an unusual elegance. The bouquet is concentrated with exotic fruits, lemon and lime. It is rich in mouth feel with a long lingering after taste.

I agree totally.

The Sauvigon Blancs from New Zealand are old news, but the Albarinos from Galicia are appearing in increasing numbers in areas stores. They have a crisp tasty interest.

Hunting down good reds is less of a challenge. I avoid cheap California cabernets, which can be too full-bodied in a sludgy way, or laden with mint and oak tastes that seem to have been added after the fact in powder form. Oregon pinot noir is often delectable, but usually out of range. Petit chateaux from Bordeaux (often merlot-based) are seldom worth the price.

I recently had a Duxoup Syrah that was remarkably flavorful without being overwhelming. Rosenblum zinfandels. Various proprietal reds from Paso Robles and other places on California's Central Coast.

I recently purchased a few bottles of a lowly white, Verget Vin de Pays de Vaucluse, for $5.50 a bottle. Others have not been impressed, but I am repeatedly surprised, when I open a bottle, that it has greater interest than whatever the plonck was that I had been drinking. Lucky me.

Well, we all make our little discoveries from time to time. I can't say what bargain-bin selection will tickle your pallet. But when you find one, send me an email, and I'll give it a try. And remember the the sage remark of the Greek philosopher Heraklitus

It's difficult to hide our ignorance,
especially when relaxing over an amphora or two of wine.

But what about the pizza?

Bernadellos, Jack's, Tombstone, Red Baron. Take your pick! But be sure to put a few finely-chopped onions and red peppers on top before you put it in the oven. It makes all the difference.