For folks like me, those who are devoted to drinking and exploring Napa wine, “ABC” usually means “Anything but Chardonnay.” This quippy, yet dismissive critique of Napa’s most prominent white wine may seem surprising to some, especially since Chardonnay still enjoys both pedigree and popularity the world over. However, the “ABC” philosophy does have some merit in regard to local wine. On one hand, the Chardonnay alternatives are few and far between here in the valley; for most Napa wineries, Sauvignon Blanc represents the only other local option for white wine (Chardonnay accounts for almost two-thirds of Napa’s total white wine production, while Sauvignon Blanc accounts for about one-fourth). But for the “ABC” camp, it’s not so much the fact that Chardonnay dominates the white wine landscape — it’s more the idea that California Chardonnay, despite its overall popularity, simply lost its taste appeal to many wine drinkers.

The local backlash against California Chardonnay began to build in the late 1990s, following an era when many local producers used to treat Chardonnay with a heavy regimen of new oak, coupled with heavy malolactic fermentation (often referred to simply as “malocatic” — or even “ML” — this secondary “fermentation” is actually bacteria-based, and isn’t a true yeast-based fermentation). With Chardonnay, heavy oak plus full ML typically results in the oaky-buttery style that many folks still enjoy (Rombauer Vineyards is the poster-child for this particular approach, and Rombauer will probably always bear the oaky-buttery torch). In the 1980s, this heavy-handed style became the vogue for many (perhaps most) Napa Valley winemakers, and the result was that Chardonnay eventually began to taste less and less like the grape, and more and more like the process. Taste, of course, remains subjective, and inherently, this particular style of winemaking wouldn’t necessarily present an issue, except that it began to make lots of Napa Chardonnays all taste the same.

Indeed, Chardonnay is widely known as “the winemaker’s grape,” a canvass that can lend itself to plenty of tweaking and manipulating in the cellar. As author Freddy Price acknowledges in his brief introduction of “Reisling Renaisance,” the Riesling grape is the complete opposite of Chardonnay. Classically, Riesling is rarely aged in oak barrels and the use of ML is non-existent. As Price also points out in his introduction, Riesling expresses its terroir more clearly than any other wine. Terroir, or what I would colloquially call” the taste of place,” is the notion that no grapevine grows within a vacuum. For better or worse, nature’s elements are bound to have an influence on the vine, and farming techniques are also bound to play a role in a grape’s flavor development. For serious wine drinkers, this idea of terroir is what allows experts to identify a wine’s origin simply by its taste, smell and appearance.

“Reisling Renaissance” is invaluable for anyone who wishes to gain a deeper insight into the world’s Riesling production. Price has spent more than 50 years pursuing his passion for the grape, and his knowledge of Riesling certainly shines. The book is divided into regional chapters, leading off with the most important, Germany, and then delving into sections on France, Austria, Australia, New Zealand, and the United States. “Riesling Renaissance” features great maps, concise and insightful histories, and lists of the top Riesling producers for each wine-growing region. Unfortunately, here in the Napa Valley, Riesling is all but absent, even though the grape was extremely popular before Prohibition, and also during the 1960s and 1970s (today, Riesling accounts for a little more than 1% of Napa’s total white wine production). To be fair, however, Napa is generally too warm to grow world-class Riesling on a large scale (Washington State has since become the domestic leader in Riesling production).

“ABC” has become a tough bet for Californians who wish to drink locally, but a few wineries have continued to produce Riesling with some success. Among the California wineries in consideration, Price highlights Bonny Doon, Greenwood Ridge, Navarro Vineyards, Smith-Madrone and Trefethen. Although it is noteworthy to point out that Bonny Doon sources its juice from Washington State and Germany’s Mosel, the other four wineries do grow and produce a true California Riesling. Trefethen and Smith-Madrone are the only Napa representatives on the list, although personally, I would also add Stony Hill Vineyards, since they’ve been producing an admirable dry Riesling in Napa Valley for more than 50 years now.

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In Vivienne Sosnowski’s 2009 book, “When the Rivers Ran Red,” the Prohibition Era is examined through the lens of Napa and Sonoma Counties, with several anecdotes from the children, now in their 90s, who witnessed Prohibition first-hand. With surnames such as Foppiano, Cuneo, and Domenichelli, these were the early pioneers who first established a nation-wide market for wine in America, thanks in large part to the Transcontinental Railroad, which connected the East and West Coasts in 1869. For those who might be unfamiliar with California’s early wine-making history, the statistics may seem surprisingly robust: At the California wine industry’s height in 1920, the same year that Prohibition went into effect, the state boasted more than 700 total wineries, with 256 in Sonoma County and 120 in Napa County (I’ve always found it interesting that Sonma wineries outnumbered Napa wineries by more than 2-to-1 before Prohibition).

Although Prohibition itself may have seemed liked a devastating turn of events, according to Sosnowski, only six California wineries closed within the first two years of legislation. As it turns out, the fallout from Prohibition wouldn’t be immediate, since the Volstead Act permitted up to 200 gallons of homemade wine per household per year. In an strange twist, Prohibition actually created a new market for fresh wine grapes, which allowed many Napa and Sonoma wineries to stay afloat for several years. Unfortunately, this early silver lining wouldn’t last: A string of tough vintages, the logistics of shipping perishable fruit, in-state competition from Central Valley grape growers, and (of course) the Great Depression were some of the key factors that proved insurmountable for most Napa and Sonoma wineries.

Among the wineries that successfully weathered the 13 years of Prohibition, those that actually prospered, such as Beaulieu Vineyards, held lucrative contracts to produce “sacramental” wine for the Catholoic Church. Meanwhile, many smaller and less-connected wineries simply bootlegged to the eager and thirsty population of San Francisco, only 50 miles away. It may not be surprising that the enforcement of Prohibition was neither effective nor well-thought out, and thus fostered an ideal environment for organized crime. As the laws were rushed into place, Prohibition agents were hired quickly and without discretion, meaning that many were crooked, while many others were simply inept (Sosnowski reports that when the Department of Prohibition was required to take civil service examinations in 1927, a woeful 59% of its employees failed).

With a terrible track record and organized crime on the rise, Prohibition lost support from all but the most ardent Drys, as the Wets also seized a new opportunity for Repeal with the election of Franklin D. Roosevelt in 1932. Just over one month into his presidency, FDR finally established the groundwork for change on April 7, 1933, by allowing the manufacture and sale of beverages with 3.2% alcohol or less. Although some wineries marketed spritzers in order to capitalize in the short term, the ban on all alcohol would be lifted by December, and the Bureau of Prohibition would be officially dissolved on June 30, 1933. After 14 years of attrition, the Noble Experiment was ultimately put to rest.

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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.

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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).

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Basically, this little piece of Highway 29 is the wine-tasting epicenter of Napa Valley, and the traffic on this road can be significant, especially since Highway 29 has just one single lane running in either direction. During the summer months, the best way to avoid the rat race is to journey beyond that infamous stretch of Highway 29. In fact, the best move is to abandon Highway 29 as early as possible, cut east to the Silverado Trail, and drive north to Calistoga. Once you get just beyond the Calistoga city limits, you will actually be diverted back to Highway 29, although to a much different version than the southern stretch.

When I visit Calisotga, I usually make sure to drop in to Vincent Arroyo Winery, my favorite place in the Napa Valley for Petite Sirah. I stopped by yesterday and was lucky enough to taste some barrel samples of their 2006 vintage. Arroyo’s 2006 wines are set to be bottled pretty soon, so the wines that I tasted were pretty much the finished products, which is nice to know. Here’s how it transpired:

• I began with bottle samples of a couple of the current releases, the 2005 Nameless (that’s actually the name of their once-feral, now-tame cat) and the 2005 Bodega (that’s the name of the chocolate lab who roams the premises). Both are labeled simply as red table wines, although they do both fall into the Bordeaux category. I liked the Bodega the best out of the two. Vincent Arroyo also bottles a wine called J.J.’s Blend (named after another lab), but that wine was sold out.

• I then tasted four barrel samples, the 2006 Entrada (a Syrah blend), the 2006 Petite Sirah Greenwood Ranch, the 2006 Petite Sirah Rattlesnake Acres, and the 2005 Petite Sirah Winemaker’s Reserve (this one has seen some serious barrel time). I enjoyed them each tremendously; they all had an inky, nearly-opaque color with plenty of dark fruit on the palate (and surprisingly low alcohol levels). My favorite of the four, however, was the Greenwood Ranch (what they refer to as the GWR in the tasting room). The Entrada was particularly noteworthy as well (I had purchased their 2005 bottling last fall).

• Next, I revisited the selection of current releases, this time with a sample of the 2005 Petite Sirah, which is Arroyo’s regular, work-horse, blended Petite Sirah (and a very worthwhile wine). The final taste was the 2006 Petite Sirah Port (again, out of the barrel), which they dose with 191-proof distilled grape spirits (in lieu of the typical addition of brandy). I can usually care less about Port — so my opinion should mean even less in this matter — but I really liked Arroyo’s version. Their Port lacked the hot, alcoholic finish that I usually encounter (and despise), so I was surprised to find out it was 18% alcohol by volume (14% residual sugar). I probably would’ve purchased a bottle, if there were any.

All told, barrel tasting kept me out of trouble, for the most part. The best wines I tasted today are officially off the market, and out of my reach for now. I did take home a couple bottles of Arroyo’s current releases, though: the 2005 Petite Sirah and the 2005 Bodega. The Petite Sirah is just really pleasant, fruit forward, and approachable — not as attention-grabbing as some of the single-vineyard Petite Sirahs, but not as expensive, either. The Bodega is a really nice, complex Bordeaux blend of Cabernet Sauvignon (a bit more than 50%), Cabernet Franc (enough to definitely taste), Petit Verdot and Malbec.

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