It is that time of the year when everyone is giving advice about which wines are to be recommended for the Christmas family feast and the usual end of the year celebrations. Of course, these are special times, so special wines are often talked about, usually rarities, those bottles one has had in the cellar for that special occasion. There is always that temptation to bring out a wine that has been maturing for a long time, that has been developing those wonderful flavors aging can provide, and which is meant to be a particular pleasure well beyond the table wine one usually serves. Old Bordeaux or Burgundies can finally see the light of day. But at times like these, there is, I think, also a tendency to try to impress others with such wins. As a host, it is natural that you will want your guests to know that you have reserved something particular for that roast or ham or turkey.

Well and good, but the question arises as to whether others will appreciate what you have taken the pains to serve. If you are surrounded by wine aficionados, there is naturally nothing to worry about if the bottle is not faulty. But for guests who appreciate wine but drink it only moderately, would that special bottle really please? I ask because not everyone is equipped to delve into the multi-dimensional aspects of really good wine. That is not a put down or snobbism: certain wines, like certain meats or fish, are not to everyone’s liking. I have had the experience where my host brings out “that special wine” that he thinks will impress, but frankly doesn’t. Because it is touted, high-priced, rare, or old does not necessarily means it will titillate everyone’s taste buds. My advice is to be sensible: the really good wine you serve with the holiday meal is the one you enjoy most and will taste wonderfully with the meal. Now that’s a good bottle, no matter what the ratings are, who the producer is, or from where it comes. And yes, avoid choosing a wine solely on the basis of its super rating by one of the wine journals. The super-guru Hugh Johnson recently gave a lecture in Geneva in which he said he was incapable of knowing whether a wine was a 90 or a 95 point wine, but he knew what was good and very good and why.

That seems to me to be the point. When I choose a wine to go with a festive meal, I try to think of who is going to drink it. To make sure that it will go with my plans, I open it before the guests arrive; I taste it; I retaste it several hours later before deciding to serve it with the meal. It may sound touchy, but would you serve meat to a vegetarian or fish to someone who does not eat seafood? When you think of holiday wines, think of your guests with the same attention you would in preparing their meal. Otherwise that superlative bottle you have been waiting to uncork will not necessarily be appreciated by those for whom it is intended.

I remember clearly the first time I ever tasted a wine from South Africa. Many years ago, the founder of Nalvina, Jean-Stéphane Szijarto, had brought a bottle of Klein Constatia Chardonnay with him when I invited him to dinner; the vintage eludes me. Klein Constatia, by the way, is the oldest winery in the country, producing wines since 1689. While I had known of the abundant wine industry in South Africa, wines such as this were often boycotted in Europe during the apartheid years and rightly so. When we tasted the wine, we were hardly surprised by its rich flavors and mineral tastes, but we wondered what other riches we were missing now that South African wines were becoming more and more available. Since that dinner, a friend served a Glen Carlou Chardonnay at his wedding party, an astonishing choice since the party was in the heart of the greatest Swiss vineyards. I made great headway into South African wines, although my tastings have been limited because of inadequate distribution in Switzerland. Nonetheless, I am convinced that South Africa has strong wines that should not be overlooked.

There is a specialty of South Africa that is unique to it—Pinotage. It is a red wine bred from a cross between Pinot Noir and Cinsault, the latter common to the south of France. Developed in 1925, Pinotage became to be widely planted because it was easy to grow. It has a curious feel to the mouth that is best tasted young, but it can offer a lively change of pace. Of late, South African winemakers have been using it to blend and vines are diminishing. But good Pinotage can be a flavorful quaff with interesting properties associated with its component parts. It can be well paired with meaty dishes and does not shrink in the face of spices. Try it with lamb or pâté, but my experience with pizza shows that the two do not go together. My favorite way to serve it is slightly cooled, not chilled. Kanonkop is a very reliable producer, as is Delheim.

Another particularly of white South African wines is Chenin Blanc. This variety, sometimes called Steen there, is actually the most widely planted white grape in the country, having been introduced here by Dutch settlers at the end of the 17^th century. It is a fairly neutral grape and therefore takes on much of the characteristics of the terroir where it is planted. The South African variety is different from its cousin in the Loire Valley in that it is often sharper, but less acidic to my mind. Some of these wines have a sweet touch that is not to my liking, but to each his taste.

Other than these particularities, South Africa produces all of the other international grape varieties, making great headway with Syrah. I have yet to taste a Pinot Noir from the country, but I am told that these are very likeable, if not to be compared with the Burgundy variety. I have, however, tasted some delightful Sauvignon Blancs from Thelema Mountain Vineyards, the last in 2010. Very much what one might expect, but with a strong melon aroma mixed with floral tastes in the mouth, despite a relatively high alcohol content—almost 14%. On the whole, it was delicious during the heat of summer. I have also enjoyed several bottles of Mulderbosch Vineyards Cabernet/Merlot blend called Faithful Hound. Of medium weight, there is plenty of fruit in the wine with spicy flavors coming out that are delicious to roll around in the mouth. This is fine sharp cheese wine produced by Mike Dubrovic that can be cellared for several years. Now with more South African wines coming into Europe, I can only wait to taste other riches to confirm my feelings that South Africa should be high on the wine map.

Photo: Vines at Paarl, South Africa

Most of our wine consumption of wine is divided into two main groups: an aperitif to whet the appetite and stimulate the taste buds, and then the what we drink with a meal. From my experiences, most of my friends do not go beyond that. Although sweet desserts in all variety generally follow a meal, wines often do not. Possibly we are already sated, or simply we don’t have the tradition to continue the wine experience after the main meal. If our sweet tooth desires usually crave something sweet to complete the meal, usually salty, why not wine as well? There are numerous after dinner wines, generally mid-sweat to sweet, that do about the same thing, although they satisfy the palate differently. I admit that my personal taste in wine does not often go for sweet wines—“stickies,” as they are poetically called in England—but if I feel the urge, especially on a cold night, my choice would be for Port.

I doubt that there are as many drinkers of Port as there are consumers of table wines. Outside of England where Port is king, the wine is associated with stuffy old gentleman at their club discussing Conservative Party politics in front of their fireplace with their fine, aged Port in hand. If you have ever been invited to a gentleman’s club in London, you will know that the image is not already false. But apart from this Victorian image of stuffiness, Port can be enjoyed by all and should be.

What we call Port is really Vinho do Porto, a fortified wine that got its name in the 17^th century from the seaport in Portugal, Porto, on the mouth of the Douro River. It is in fact the oldest protected appellation of viticulture, the name guarded since 1756. The grapes used to make Port is often, but not exclusively, Touriga Nacional, which is also used to make fine table wine, now more than before. What is distinctive about Port as opposed to a table wine is that it is fortified with natural grape spirits (aguardente—meaning fiery water, which it certainly is), which stops fermentation, leaves residual sugar, and ups the alcohol level. Usually the alcohol content in most Port ranges between the 18% to 20%. After the process of fortification, the wine is aged in wood in the cave.

Port can be rather complex, but in essence there are two styles that are generally marketed (I exclude Ruby Port which is very young and often wimpy): Tawny Port and Vintage Port. The first lives up to its name. It mellows in storage, oxidizes a bit, and when finished gives a golden-red color from which the name Tawny comes. It is often very smooth on the tongue, lively on the taste buds, and delicious with certain cheeses. The sweetness is a bit subdued because the wine has been aged in wood—the bottle will tell you how long, but often 10 years as a minimum; the longer the aging, the higher the price, and the more mellow the taste.

Vintage Port, on the other hand, is altogether another story. For most wine drinkers, vintage simply means the year when the grapes were harvested, indicated as such on the bottle. For Port, vintage implies not only the year, but also an extra quality. What is important to note is that the Port producer himself will announce a Port as “Vintage Port.” Samples are sent to a control board who approve or not, and if the quality is high enough, a vintage is officially “declared” for that producer, but not necessarily for others. Usually this happens only a few times per decade if the quality is high enough to meet the standards. When you buy Vintage Port, so named on the bottle with the year, you are in fact being guaranteed that the quality is high.

Although Port goes well with certain cheeses and fruity desserts, I don’t particularly find it necessary to pair it with any food. A small glass of fine Port..that’s all you need—is enough to finish a satisfying meal with a warm, delicious feeling that goes to one’s heart rather than the stomach.

Photo: Warre’s Port

Drinking wine is a simple thing, isn’t it? Pull out the cork, pour, sniff, drink, enjoy. Of course, in a formal setting, say when the boss and his wife are coming to dinner and you want to impress them, the service will be different. You’ll bring out the best china and probably the best wine in your cellar to be served in your best glasses. I really don’t see myself as a snob, but there is a way to serve wine, even on informal occasions when several friends are hanging around for a drink and some talk. To me, formal or informal is no criteria on how I serve wine. More often than not, we don’t give enough attention to this, as, alas, restaurants don’t either. As a unique product with very unique characteristics, you are not going to serve wine as you do beer or coffee or juice. Here are some things you might want to keep in mind the next time you open that bottle so that you get the most enjoyment from it.

First: The Proper Stemware. Is this really important? Can’t one enjoy wine in any glass? Yes you can and no you can’t. Yes, wine can be enjoyable in any glass, but it will be more enjoyable, much more, in a glass designed to bring out all the flavors. I prefer very large glasses for reds and whites; these should be tulip shaped so that the aroma is directed upward to the nose at the top of the glass. The larger volume of the glass permits me to swish and swoosh—thus getting oxygen in to help release the flavors—so that these aromas emerge directly to my nose. Friends who dine with me in restaurants can testify that I will ask for larger glasses if they are not already provided. There is no need to spend a great deal for good stemware, particularly as it will inevitably break at some point. But shape and size do count.

Second: Pouring. For me the rule is to pour not more than a third of the glass; never more than half. Again, the reason is that you want to aerate the wine by twirling the glass—not as difficult as it appears to be; it’s all in the wrist—before putting you nose in the glass. If you pour more, there is the risk that half of the wine will wind up on your or your guest’s shirt when you twirl the glass. And by the way, pour slowly so that small bubbles appear in the glass; it helps in bringing out the flavors.

Third: Emptying the Bottle. I always let about a half inch of wine at the bottom of the bottle, never emptying this into a glass. The reason is that it is here that the deposit, if there is any, will accumulate. That’s why you should stand the bottle upright after you’ve taken it from the cellar. You really don’t want to taste this deposit, which is bitter and acrid and will spoil what is left in your glass. Naturally, this rule does not apply if you decant the wine first, as you can let the deposit remain in the bottle; the decanted wine will be free of any disagreeable foreign substance. I, incidentally, decant more and more, young wines and old alike, partly because I like to have my decanter in front of me on the table, but it is a question of choice.

Fourth: A Reserve Bottle. I try, whenever possible, to bring up two bottles of the same wine I am going to serve and consume. This is not because I am a glutton, but because it will insure having another bottle ready if the first bottle is corked, and at the same time have the second bottle ready at the temperature we want for a second bottle. This might be a bit of a luxury because the assumption is that you have a wine cellar and have a stock of favorites. Nevertheless, don’t forget to plan ahead in case of a faulty wine, or that seductive desire for another bottle.

None of these rules are difficult to follow and all of them will help you taste your wines better, and with greater enjoyment,

Each year at this time, Decanter Magazine, the leading wine journal in Britain, publishes their Decanter World Wine Award (DWWA) issue. This is, to some extent, a very important event for them, the magazine weighing three times or more its usual size with results after results in different categories, prices, varieties, and wine regions. Presumably, the judges find the “best” wines for you to buy and enjoy. But the DWWA is a curious event: it is in fact, as the magazine notes, not really a tasting, but a competition with trophies as awards and stickers to be placed on the bottles of the select few. That immediately sounds strange to me because in effect wine is put on the same level as a sporting event. Whoever is the fastest, highest, longest, etc is proclaimed the winner, as if Usain Bolt is running for Red Burgundy. How can one really place wine on this kind of level, and why do we do it? The tasters judge these wines blind, but according to groups, country, region, grape variety, and price. About 80 wines are tasted per day in a room that, as the magazine says, has no distractions. The wines are provided by the producers or their agents—4 bottles of each wine—so that corky bottles can be tasted in another round from another bottle, or tasted again later if the wine advances in the competition. As it is world wide, a huge range of wines are tasted—over 10,000 of them—by dozens of judges from 23 countries.

As one who enjoys wine, you will no doubt be swayed by the results, either by curiosity or because a judge has proclaimed this or that wine the “best.” Before you go out searching for that great International Trophy designated by the DWWA as the “best,” think about the judging itself. First, the very fine wine producers do not generally submit their wines to such competitions because they don’t have to in order to maintain their reputation. There is no Château Margaux or Yquem or the likes, and why should there be? The panels are bound by what is there sent by the wineries, rather than what certain producers did not send, so the selection is large but jaded. Secondly, such a huge numbers of judges, however accomplished they are in their tasting notes or sensitive to the flavors of wines, are inclined to have hugely different opinions. Consider too that each judge is trying to evaluate a wine for its qualities of terroir and individuality, while tasting dozens of similar wines on the same day. That is hugely difficult to do, even for the best of them. I am hardly in the category of a great taster, but in wine tasting sessions I attend, there is a point of saturation where wine n° 6 tastes oddly like wine n° 13, and I can no longer distinguish the qualities of wine n° 2, which I think I liked. And further, we tend, in wine as elsewhere, to prefer what we know or what we like or even what we are used to, those little pleasure memories that wine impales on the neurons. So inevitably I have my doubts about the results; I am simply skeptic about this kind of “competition” in which the results are hyped as the best, the brightest, and finally the most exciting wines in the world.

Every year there are surprises beside the usual suspects who garnish awards. Of course, familiar wine regions in Europe, America, and Australia reaped plenty of accolades, but not always. Some of the awards were given to weird choices to wineries so little known only years before. Would you have guessed that the Red Bordeaux varietal—that is, a Cabernet and Merlot mix—trophy over £10 would be won this year by a Chinese wine? It is called Jia Bei Lan from a winery in Ningxia province and if you are tempted by the encouraging tasting notes to purchase a bottle, know that for the present, it is only sold in China. A Domaine Helan Mountain white also from China won tributes and raves. There were also glowing reports of a Sula Vineyards Sauvignon Blanc, from (would you have guessed it?) India. Have you ever tasted an Indian wine or even been aware that Indian wines exist? Also, the Granmonte winery Syrah and Cabernet from . . . Thailand got good notices. In one of my last blogs, I wrote about trying new wines outside your normal comfort zone, and I suppose I would be hypocritical if I said that I would not like to try these. But the truth of the matter is that 1) I am in no hurry to do so because there are so many other wines from important viniculture regions I have not yet tried, and 2) how would I ever get a hold of these rarities if I were tempted to want to sip them with my dosa (tiny crêpes stuffed with vegetables) or my Thai Tom yam kung nam khon?

Not yet for me when there are so many wonderful Italian, French, Spanish, Portuguese, German, and American wines to try. Comfort zone or not, my adventures in tasting still have frontiers.

There is more to Switzerland than banks, chocolate, cheese, and mountains. When I first came here almost three decades ago, I had no idea that the Swiss also made drinkable wine, and in substantial quantities, but I was quickly alerted to the fact when my hosts and I dined in Cully, virtually in the vineyards. We ordered local fare and drank some delicious Swiss white from the vineyards that were in sight. I remember commenting on the wine as a delicious accompaniment, sipped, as I recall, in small glasses with no stems. There is no shame in not having much knowledge of Swiss viticultural production, since most of the wines never leave the country. By recent estimates, about 98% of the wine produced within the Swiss borders are consumed in country. That is one reason why these easily enjoyable wines are unknown in Europe and America and remain a great surprise to wine lovers when they encounter them.

All of the 26 Swiss cantons have wine producing vineyards, but the best are in the canton of Vaud, where I live, and the Valais, the next canton over to the east. Almost all of these vineyards are on extremely inclined slopes overlooking the Lake of Geneva—really the Lac Léman in local parlance—so vertiginous that one wonders how they can be harvested. Because of the geographical conditions, the harvest are almost by hand, which makes labor costs high, and the price of the wine equally high. The most planted grape is the Chasselas which accounts for a huge proportion of the white wines and is peculiar to the area; more than 4,000 hectares are planted to this variety. You can find Chasselas elsewhere but never in quantity: in France, in the Loire valley, but it is almost never vinified by itself, but rather used as a blend with Sauvignon Blanc, or as a table grape; in New Zealand some of it is made into a sweet wine; and recently it has even been introduced into England in the idea that the soil and climate in the south are suitable. The grape itself is a rather neutral tasting one, which is fine, because one of the characteristics of this neutrality is that these grapes will easily absorb the terroir, providing regional differences that are quite marked. These wines are perfect as an aperitif, with white fish, and, of course, with fondue. Be careful however in regard to labeling: in the Valais, the wine is called Fendant (meaning “melting”), while in the Vaud the label does not generally indicate the grape variety, only the name of the domain. In the German part of Switzerland, it called Gutedel.

Red wines in Switzerland are still, to my mind, a work in progress. Virtually all of the traditional varieties are grown, but few are as distinctive as the whites. In the Valais, the best are called Dole, an assemblage which must contain at least 85% Pinot Noir and Gamay, with 15% left to the vintner’s choice, often Diolinoir, a cross between Diolly and Pinot first introduced here in 1970. These wines are usually very light, lusciously fruity, and go well with any food that is not too robust; I love it slightly chilled. There are also local varieties, such as Humagne Rouge, which is spicier and more rustic, and healthy plantings of Syrah, some which can be extremely fine, but are very different from the Rhone variety. But the top reds in Switzerland come from the Italian part of the country, the Ticino, where Merlot is king. These are always deeply colored, racy, and delicious to drink young. With the polenta that is often served there—with a thick slab of blue cheese melting in it—there is nothing better to wash it down.

When I have taken some bottles of Swiss wines to friends in America and England, I am always delighted with the reactions. None of my friends has ever been disappointed, but all have been a bit startled by bottles from a wine region that remains in my opinion a still undiscovered pleasure. You’ll have trouble finding any Swiss wines in New York or London but don’t let that stop you. The next time you come to Europe, don’t forget Geneva or Zurich or Basel and order a bottle of the local wine. Get ready for an enjoyable quaff that is unique, delightful, and often an enchanting drinking experience.

As everyone must already know, the 2009 Bordeaux offerings have reached atmospheric prices. I just received an offering of Bordeaux futures—these are offers of the wine well before the actual release of the product for public consumption. When you subscribe, you are buying wine that is not yet finished or in bottle, or even tasted; you buy by reputation to insure that you will have stock of a particular wine before it goes on sale commercially at a price already set. Most people who buy wine this way are collectors and speculators: buy a case of Château this or that for a few hundred dollars and them sell it at auction for two or three times that when the critics rave about it and all of a sudden the market demands make the wine hugely expensive. Anyway, that is the hope.

I can’t buy wine this way for several reasons. First, it is against my grain to buy for investment, although I enjoy making a profit as much as anyone, because for me wine is to drink, not a commodity to trade like gold or real estate. Second, I have always found it difficult to buy a wine I have not tasted. A wine may have a huge reputation, top scores, incredible recommendations, and simply not be to my taste. And third, I can’t afford the really fine wines that are offered. Most of the time, there is a price limit to my wine spending, but to take advantage of the lower prices of these 2009 Bordeaux wines I would have had to spend a fortune. Look at the figures for the first growth Bordeaux wines, of which there are five. Take a look, say, at Haut Brion, which goes for about $900 . . . a bottle. If we consider that an average bottle of wine (75 ml or about 25 ounces) yields about 6 glasses, that comes out to about $150 . . . a glass. Go one step higher to Château Margaux and you find the selling price at about $1,200, which comes to $200 a glass. Even second wines from top estates—younger vines and generally not deemed the quality of the big ones—are in this stratospheric range. The second wine of Lafite, Carruades de Lafite, 2009, will sell for about $450, or a little more than about $75 per glass. Let me put this into perspective: I still have a bottle of Carruades de Lafite, 1995, in my cellar, which I bought in 1998 for under $30 for the entire bottle. Can anyone really believe that the price of farming, picking, and vinification of the wine at these first growth estates is a reflection of such greater quality and higher costs necessary to produce it?

So, is anyone going to open a bottle that will cost more than $100 a glass? The answer is yes. Millionaires; people who want to impress others; and of course the ever growing Asian market where top labels are even more status symbols than in the west. Collectors probably won’t open many of these bottles because if they had paid such prices, they’ll hold on to them for a decade or more when the supply automatically diminishes and therefore higher prices can be demanded when they sell. That is the old justification of demand and supply, which drives the market, but at the same time it puts people like you and me who love wine in the majority who will probably not have the chance to taste these marvels.

Should we give up on Bordeaux? No. There are several producers I buy each year because the price is right, because they are satisfying wines, and because—very simply—I really like them. Here are three you might consider to quench your Bordeaux thirst:

Château Belle-Vue, Haut-Médoc. Every year, a very gratifying wine. The last I tasted was the 2007, a mix of 50% Cabernet, 27% Merlot, and the rest Petit Verdot. All the grapes are handpicked from vines that are about 25 years old, but some date from plantings in 1907. About $20, or a little more than $3 a glass.

Château Chasse-Spleen. It is impossible to go wrong here. Again, I last tasted the 2007, which was very fine indeed. More Cabernet than Belle-Vue, with a richer feel in the mouth of cherries and blueberries. Very long lasting both in the mouth and in the cellar. About $25.

Château Lilian Ladouys. Located in Saint Estèphe, this wine is very typical of the region, unctuous with meat and wholly enjoyable from the first sip to the last, every year. Even with the price increases of 2009, a bottle can be had for about $20.

There are many more wonderful wines in the Bordeaux in the reach of all of us who love these wines. Because the very top wines sell for outrageous price is no reason to give up drinking, or giving, a fine bottle of Bordeaux.

Photo: Château Chasse-Spleen by Benjamin Zingg