Wine

By Leigh Pomeroy

Every day the wine lover may face myriad choices on wine shelves: Corks or screwcaps? What's in a blend? What vintages to buy? How old is too old? And conversely, what wines should be stored for a later date? Must wines be laid down or left standing up? And what about box wine?

Ah … too many questions drives one to drink!

But don't fear. I have the answers, at least some of them.

With wine, screwcaps are the coming thing. At one time screwcaps were associated with cheap wines. Not anymore. In fact, certain wine regions bottle many, if not most, of their wines with screwcaps, like New Zealand and Oregon. Why?

The primary reason is that there is less stopper failure with screwcaps, less chance of leakage and zero chance of the wine being spoiled by cork taint.

But does a wine age the same with a screwcap as with a cork? For long-term aging, the jury is still out, but for short-term consumption, the consensus is "go with the screwcap" because of the advantages listed above. Plus, no fighting with a corkscrew: Just twist and pour.

What's in a blend? That depends on where the wine is from. If from certain regions of France, like Champagne, Bordeaux, Châteauneuf-du-Pape and Côtes du Rhône, what's in the blend is delimited by law. That's because, due to years of trial and error, the best grapes for those areas have been determined. Plus, those areas are looking for certain consistent flavor profiles. The same is true for certain regions of Italy, like Chianti, Soave and Valpolicella.

As for New World wines — those from the U.S., Chile, Argentina, Australia, New Zealand and South Africa — anything goes, though each region has its own preferences.

Many times what's in a blend depends upon what's available and surplus. For example, more merlot has been planted in Napa Valley than what the market can absorb due to the grape's rapid downfall in popularity. Thus, if you see a Napa Valley red blend, chances are that the majority of it is merlot.

Blends from major international corporate producers — for example, Apothic (Gallo), The Prisoner and Cooper & Thief (Constellation), 19 Crimes (Treasury Wine Estates) — are designed to appeal to a certain market taste. The marketing gurus of these behemoth producers first determine what the wine drinkers of a certain country want, then the winemakers fashion blends to appeal to that market.

This is totally backward from the way it used to be, when wineries produced the best wines they could from their vineyards, and customers would either buy them or not. In other words, most wines, even many of the expensive ones, are now no more than common consumer commodities, like canned peas or hot dogs.

Wine: to age or not to age? Most wines today are made to be consumed soon after they're bottled. For whites, within four years; rosés, two years; lighter reds, five years; heavier reds, eight years. Only a handful of reds are meant to age longer, for example: Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon; French Bordeaux and Châteauneuf-du-Pape; Italian Barolo, Brunello di Montalcino and Amarone della Valpolicella; and some Australian Shirazes.

There are, of course, exceptions everywhere. Zinfandel, for instance, can be an alcoholic mouthful, but in some cases its youthful, fruit-driven charm disappears into a muddled cough syrup mess if aged too long.

for a long time going to have a dried-up cork? Not necessarily. It used to be thought that good wines had to be laid on their sides in order to keep their corks moist. But recent research has shown that corks can retain moisture standing up, provided the wine is stored properly — that is, at a relatively cool, even temperature and away from light. That's because there's generally enough moisture in the headspace — the area between the wine and the cork — to keep the cork moist.

Nevertheless, it's always safer to lay a bottle on its side for extended aging. Of course, with a screwcap, it doesn't matter.

fact from my friends? Of course not! On my 2018 visit to the Dordogne region of France, our group stayed at a rustic auberge in a tiny medieval town. All along the way, we had chosen the house or an inexpensive wine, and we assumed the house wine here would be just fine. Actually, it was the only choice.

I envisioned the proprietor descending to the cellar to bring up liter carafes from barrels. But he reached underneath a counter in the dining room and filled the carafes with red and white from boxes.

When I expressed surprise in my halting French, he deadpanned, "It's the best. It's from our local cooperative."

And you know what? It was.