Don't Mess with France

For a long time I barely drank American wine at all. I never wanted to try new bottles for fear of ending up with something that tasted like a piece of Quaker furniture had been blended into it. Or if not that, then some other out-of-key note that calls attention to the winemaking process at the expense of the wine. My West-Coast friends might find it worthwhile to navigate this minefield (though I notice none of them drink California Chardonnay), but as a New Yorker I have as-good or better access to European wines. Not that European means better. It's just that the French/Italian/Spapnish/Portuguese/Greek/etc. table-wine traditions jibe better with my personal wine values.

My major exception is Pinot Noir from Sonoma's Russian River Valley. Almost every one I've tried conveys the humble majesty of grape and soil. Things between me and this Californian category were going so well that I got bold. I decided to branch out to Washington State, and to spend a bit more than I usually do for an American wine I know nothing about. Benton Lane Pinot Noir ($19.99) was the choice. I didn't like it. Too much oak on the nose, and on the palate. When it fades and the fruit finally comes through, the note is cranberry, which I like, if it's not quite so tart. I guess 02 was a cold summer in the Pacific Northwest.

I aimed to rekindle my love for Pinot Noir a few nights later. I guess I could've gone back to the Russian River, but I really wanted to stack the odds in favor of ignition. Thus: Burgundy. Parent's is $2 cheaper than the Benton Lane and about twice as satisfying with a steak. There's less of that playful raspberry note you get with the Sonomas, and none of the rich earth you get in Burgundies with names of villages on the label. Just light-bodied ripeness and a comforting bit of dust.

Parent Bourgogne is available at Olivino and online at Main St. Wines.