Over the last couple years, I’ve done a fair amount of book reviews on this site (and for what it’s worth, I have read every last one of these books). But in homage to the good old days of college life, I’m going to offer my review of “The Hedonist in the Cellar” without actually having read the book. Of course, I would never have included this detail on a college midterm, but I have no issue with divulging that info here. To that end, I should point out that I have read about one-third of the book. When I say that I didn’t read a lot of my textbooks at UCLA, I really meant that I just didn’t finish them. For the most part, I would read enough of the book to develop a sense of the writer’s style, but then my midterms would always arrive sooner than I would’ve liked, and I’d have to resort to CliffsNotes the night before the test.

And so that’s kind of where I am with “The Hedonist in the Cellar,” which I was breezing through fairly quickly until I decided to prepare for my CSW exam last year. As I resolved to begin studying more seriously, I decided to put the book on hold, and it’s been collecting dust on my nightstand ever since. Of course, since Jay McInerney’s book is actually a collection of essays, the text itself doesn’t demand to be read in any particular order, or within any sort of time-frame (what I like to call a good “bathroom reader”). Frankly, I’m fast-tracking this book review because I really wanted to comment on McInerney’s recent appointment as the new Wall Street Journal wine critic. Given the portion of “Hedonist” that I have read, I find this development very interesting and appealing.

To me, the WSJ has always been a unique wine resource, having built much of its reputation under the husband-and-wife duo of Dorothy Gaiter and John Brecher (sidenote: “Open That Bottle Night” is on February 27th this year). The happy couple had penned their column in the Journal since 1998, which takes me back to a time in which I knew very little about wine. I feel that the “can’t-miss” economics of the dot-com boom prompted much of Generation X to begin reading the WSJ, at least occasionally, as “IPO” soon became the acronym on everyone’s lips. Subsequently, I think Gaiter and Brecher exposed many newly affluent Americans to the idea of wine as an approachable luxury, even if their advice may have been grounded in value. For me, the tandem certainly offered a unique voice, and Jay McInerney should as offer something similar.

The essays that I have read in 2006′s “Hedonist” have usually reminded me that McInerney is very much a writer first and a wine critic second. Perhaps his upcoming column in the Journal might take a different tack, but I sure hope not. It’s refreshing to read someone who eschews the 100-point system (I assume) and who approaches his craft with a little more gonzo creativity. McInerny has a great way of putting wine into a vivid context, which is something you almost never see in publications like Wine Spectator. Many of the leading wine magazines — with their alleged blind tasting panels and their ubiquitous point scores — remain somewhat clinical (if not influential) in their approach. Rarely do they pen wine reviews with any sense of character or panache. On the other hand, McInerny wields a style that often reflects elements of P.J O’Rourke and Ernest Hemingway.

Many folks may criticize McInerny for not having enough credentials as wine critic. But I say, so what? With the wide range of wines that “Hedonist” covers, McInerny has certainly invested many years into the subject, and who’s to really say that his opinions and observations are not every bit as valid as Robert Parker’s or Jim Laube’s? With any luck, I see McInerny as someone who has the potential to offer some new perspectives on wine and who will hopefully deliver a little much-needed levity along the way.

Although “The California Wine Book” can no longer offer too much modern insight, the scope of the book is interesting in itself. Today, no single book could ever cover California wine in any meaningful detail, and I doubt that many present-day authors would even attempt to cover the entire Golden State in just one single volume. The explosion of California’s wine industry now demands increased focus and specialization, and there are nearly a dozen California wine regions that warrant an entire book unto themselves. But despite the wine industry’s profound evolution, “The California Wine Book” does provide an interesting snapshot of a very different era. What I find especially fascinating is that the book captures the Napa Valley at a very pivotal moment in its history, just months (or perhaps only weeks) prior to the legendary Judgment of Paris.

For those who might be rusty on their Napa folklore, the famed “Judgment of Paris” established a profound paradigm shift within the Napa Valley, as two Napa wines topped the very best French wines in an international blind tasting competition (an eonological “Miracle on Ice,” to be sure). The two wineries responsible for this historic victory — Stag’s Leap Cellars and Chateau Montelena — are both acknowledged in “The California Wine Book,” although neither winery receives any special recognition (if the authors only knew what revelations were looming on the horizon). In this context, “The California Wine Book” offers a great depiction of the Napa landscape right before the big shift, before the phrase “cult wine” was coined, before winemakers became rock stars, and before Napa Cabernets hit triple (or even double) digit prices.

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The Napa Valley chapter of “The California Wine Book” organizes the wine industry into (a) The Big Seven and (b) all the others. I found this division particularly interesting, since some of those “Big Seven” wineries (Bealieu, Beringer, Christian Brothers, Inglenook, Charles Krug, Louis Martini, and Robert Mondavi) no longer exist. Among those missing today, the authors noted that Christian Brothers — which was pushing 2 million cases of wine annually in 1975 — refused to vintage date any of their bottlings. This practice really struck me as odd, but apparently, the winery (owned by the Catholic Church) had made a devout commitment to offer super-affordable wine. Christian Brothers winemaker, the legendary Brother Timothy, employed very complicated “fractional blending” techniques, much in the way a Port producer would use the “solera” system. The book acknowledges that this unique approach was an anachronism, even in 1976.

Among the Big Seven producers, it’s revealing to note that by 1976, three wineries had already been purchased by large corporations, proving that big business was already sniffing out potential profits in the wine sector. Hublein Corporation, which introduced then-executive Andy Beckstoffer to the Napa Valley, was responsible for the purchase of Inglenook and Bealieu, while Beringer had been sold to Nestlé in 1971. Many other food-and-beverage corporations, including Pilsbury and Coca-Cola, made similar acquisitions in the years following the Judgment of Paris, but with very little success (and some colossal failures). The Napa Valley still features plenty of corporate ownership these days, although alcohol-related entities currently prevail (Fosters Group, Constellation Brands, Diageo, and the rest).

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Of the 30 “other” Napa Valley wineries that “The California Wine Book” mentions, the authors subdivide this list into two further categories: “Small” and “On the Brink.” Some of the “Small” wineries include such stalwarts as Heitz Cellars, Stag’s Leap, Chappellet, Joseph Phelps, Stony Hill, Sterling, Franciscan and Chateau Montelena. Among this group, some of these wineries have remained family-owned over the years, while other wineries have been absorbed by large corporations. Most recently, Stag’s Leap was purchased by Italian-based Antinori in 2007, while Chateau Montelena was almost sold in 2008 (ultimately, the deal with Cos d’Estournel fell through by the year’s end, as the U.S. economy also took a dramatic turn for the worse). These days, Montelena is no longer up for sale, and the estate has now been owned by the Barrett Family since 1972.

Perusing through the entry for Chateau Montelena, I wondered if Mike Grgich would receive a mention as the winemaker, since it was his Chardonnay that prevailed at the Judgement of Paris. The authors of “The California Wine Book” do mention Grgich, and his profile is actually a dominant portion of the Montelena entry. At the time “The California Wine Book” was published, Grgich was still an partner at Chateau Montelena, perhaps just weeks before his relationship with the Barrett Family would ultimately unravel. After putting Montelena on the world stage at the 1976 Paris Tasting, Mike Grgich would soon leave the winery to launch Grgich Hills in 1977 (backed this time by Austin Hills, the heir of Hills Brothers Coffee).

Among the list of “On the Brink” wineries, I was amused to find “Silveroaks Cellars,” which had not yet released a single vintage at the time of publication (Silver Oak did have a wine program dating back to 1973, however, and was it due to make its debut either in late 1976 or early 1977). I also noted an entry for Diamond Creek, another legendary winery in its very infancy. As with Silver Oak, Diamond Creek also launched its campaign with the 1973 vintage, soon to become California’s first recognized cult wine (I believe that Diamond Creek Cab still retails for $175, if you can even find it). Silver Oak, on the other hand, has since emerged as a 100,000-case-per-year juggernaut (you can find this wine anywhere), with its Napa Valley Cabernet fetching $100 per bottle (don’t do it).