Simple sips

Searching for revelation in a bottle? Think small.

by Thor Iverson

LISTENING TO A bunch of wine geeks talk about their greatest experiences is pretty entertaining, if not exactly enlightening. The conversation is filled with 1961 Latour and 1900 Margaux this, '77 Fonseca and '45 Mouton that . . . and how many bottles of Turley zin did Bob serve with dinner? It's sorta like Classic Wine Radio -- all legends, all the time.

But all this talk of legends misses what's essential and real about wine. For most of us, the real enjoyment and pleasure of wine is not the Great Bottle, but the Perfect Bottle.

Semantic hair-splitting? No. A Great Bottle is an elusive treasure everyone covets, like a Van Gogh painting. A Perfect Bottle is a wine served in the right place at the right time. A wine that seems ordinary one night can turn into something remarkable with the right food, in the right setting, with the right people. After all, the most memorable dinners aren't necessarily memorable for the quality of the food, but rather because you shared them with a lover or a group of friends, or because they took place on the final night of a wonderful vacation. Wine is no different: its perfection comes from the moment, not from image or reputation.

Thus, the "perfect wine" could be a glass of fino sherry sipped while watching the sunset from a Mediterranean balcony, or a $5 bottle of Beaujolais-Villages quaffed with a little roasted chicken in a French bistro. Maybe it's a chilled bottle of Verdicchio with seafood fresh off a fisherman's boat, a glass of inexpensive Porto in front of a roaring fire, or a $12 bottle of zinfandel with steaks and potatoes on the grill.

There's a reason wine writers -- and other people who taste a lot of wine -- so often confuse bigger with better. In large-scale tastings of multiple wines, the ones that stand out are the wines that knock us out with more fruit, more tannin, more oak, more everything. Those "best of show" wines are what we writers take back to our columns, and what wine geeks spend lots of time bragging about.

But wine is endlessly diverse and adaptable, and if we're always looking for the big wine, the "great" wine, we're ignoring that diversity in favor of the very wines that don't adapt. Great wines demand so much attention that they can't share the stage with other wines, with food, or even with idle conversation. On the other hand, smaller wines -- "lesser" wines (though the word lesser is highly misleading) that don't have to scream for attention -- will likely be much better accompaniment for food and conversation.

Consider Alsatian riesling. A "great" riesling from a top producer and vineyard will cost at least $40 and take more than 10 years to develop. When it does, it will be an incredibly complex wine, the star of its own show, oohed and aahed over by appreciative wine lovers. The right food would be the finest Alsatian haute cuisine -- perhaps rabbit sautéed in a riesling and cream sauce with wild chanterelles, over lightly herbed spätzle. But what about a riesling for tonight's grilled chicken breasts over rice pilaf? A young riesling -- non-reserve, non-grand cru -- is the perfect choice. It's ready to drink right now, it will enhance the food, and it won't break the bank.

The same goes for a prosaic flank steak with some fried onions and peppers. One classic wine match for steak is a fine, well-aged Bordeaux -- but that would be completely inappropriate here. A wine of that breed demands a "finer" cut of meat, like a filet mignon served with shaved black truffles. For our everyday steak, the perfect wine is something simple yet flavorful, a wine that will enhance the food and be enhanced in turn. A young cabernet franc-based red wine from the Loire Valley, say from Saumur or Chinon, would be perfect.

Remember: wine is food. There's a time and a place for filet, and another for burgers on the grill. Similarly, there's a time and a place for '61 Latour, and another for a '95 Jadot Beaujolais-Villages. Understanding that is the key to truly appreciating the incredible power of wine as a simple beverage of pleasure, to be enjoyed every day and in every situation.

1995 Marcel Martin La Sablette Vouvray Clos des Madères ($8.95). Tangerine, peach, pear, and the unmistakable character of a fresh spring rain splash around in this off-dry white. A mélange of tropical fruit and underripe cherries is balanced by crisp acidity and a surprising weight on the finish. Serve it with a substantial hunk of flavorful fish sprinkled with herbs.

1995 Gilbert Alquier Faugères ($10.99). An unheralded appellation in southern France, Faugères produces tasty, uncomplicated wines that also have the ability to age. This one is delicious now, with chokecherry, black cherry, and minty tannins up front. Serve it tonight with a simple sauté of chicken and vegetables.

1995 Gini Soave Classico La Frosca ($14.99). Soave has a bad reputation, thanks to an ocean of plonk produced in its name. Ignore the image and take a big gulp of this refreshing quaffer. It tastes like -- and no, I'm not making this up -- orange-lime sherbet, coconut cream pie with whipped cream, and pineapple, with a good acidic layer of fresh green apples underneath. Despite the dessert-tray character, it's not a sweet wine, but it needs delicate poached whitefish in a simple sauce to avoid being overwhelmed.

1995 Boccadigabbia Rosso Piceno ($9.99). This Italian beauty tastes like a $50 wine. The nose is heavily truffled, with game and burnt-pork scents mixed with faint strawberry notes. On the palate, a huge wave of black cherry and basil is followed by a distinctly earthy character, and then some sharp tannin takes over on the finish. Air it out for an hour, and it all integrates into an astounding young wine. Serve it with sausage polenta.

Thor Iverson can be reached at wine[a]phx.com.