Grapevine: Drop the safe

Safety is an admirable goal. It's what motivates us to inhabit cozy homes, to strap on our seatbelts, to step away from that grizzly bear. There's safety in numbers, of course. There's even a Safety Dance. For American wine producers, there is safety, too—in Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon, or Oregon Pinot Noir. (Heck, these days, Pinot Noir in and of itself is a vinous Fort Knox.)
The problem with safety, though, is it usually isn't very exciting. Safe and exciting usually translates into scintillatingly expensive, like a BMW M3 or a bottle of 1982 Lafite—both of which are beyond my means. So I don't play it safe. This month I want to fete a trio of unsafe American wines, made by folks who make wine because it's their passion, not because it's orthodox or a sure money-maker.
For makers of California white wines, the surest bet has historically been our old friend Chardonnay. The trip up the wine-ratings ladder tends to be boosted by generous doses of new oak, or buttery malolactic fermentations. Thankfully, these days, all of you dear readers seem to be looking for something less heavy and more adaptable to the diverse range of cuisines and flavors available to us. And so you may be interested in the Tangent Albariño 2006 ($19, A Vintner's Selection).
Tangent Winery makes a range of Chardonnay antidotes, but this Albariño captivates with its fleshy pear and peach notes, citrusy floral nose, and racy, refreshing acidity. It is a tasty, balanced breath of freshness that will delight your summertime table.
As an antithesis to such crispness and lightness, one might be tempted by the strength of Cabernet Sauvignon, or maybe the lushness of Merlot, but I'm here to suggest bringing a bottle of Chameleon Cellars Charbono 2003 ($26, Cult Wine Group) home. Charbono's origins are a bit of a mystery, thought to be related to northern Italian varietals, but certainly planted in California since the late 1800's. It is hardly made there anymore though, much of it having been ripped out in favor of things that are easier on the tongue. This wine bursts with blueberry, plum, violets, and a suggestion of pipe tobacco. It is a wild, exotic bottle of red that manages to remain mid-weight and versatile, unburdened by a truckload of oak barrels. Try it with a heaping plate of lentils or roasted wild boar on a pike.
And so I'd like to raise a toast to all those producers across the land struggling with Mourvedre, Tempranillo—and to our own crop of Maryland growers of delightful oddballs like Chambourcin and Vidal. What to toast with, though? How about sparkling wine made by former residents of Champagne who set up shop in Albuquerque, New Mexico because they couldn't afford land on the West Coast? Gruet Brut Rosé NV ($15, A Vintner's Selection) is the result of just such a scenario.
There's nothing like a desert for warm days and cool nights, and the result is absolutely delightful stuff, juicy and full-bodied the way rosy bubbly should be, but with finesse and sophistication that is truly an homage to the best Champagnes.