Another glass of white. . .

Three times in the last week, in general-news stories, there have been passing mentions, usually scene-setting, of white wines. Once upon a time, the reference would have been Chardonnay; now, suddenly, it’s Pinot Grigio. A harbinger, or a benchmark?
       In advance of the royal wedding, The New York Times ran a story on English sparkling wine, noting the remarkable success of Ridgeview, which won an overall gold medal at last year’s Decanter World Wine Awards. It seems that global warming is creating real possibilities for the future.
       Meanwhile, I’ve discovered another: Coddington Pinot Gris, which could also have been called “Pinot Grigio,” as that’s a legal option. The vineyard and winery, established just over 25 years ago, are in Ledbury, just a bit northwest of Cheltenham. They sell by mail order and to a few restaurants. The Pinot Gris is in the style of Friuli, dry and lightly peachy, crisp and lovely. I wish the sparkling-wine producers well, but I’d sure like to see more of this, too.

News: What the world needs now. . .

The Bronco Wine Company announced today a new Pinot Grigio from a patented clone discovered in 2001 in its Tehachapi vineyard. "We noticed a separate genetic variation with lighter color, found that it made a fuller, better-tasting wine, and grafted it in the vineyard," said Bronco president Fred Franzia. The wine is being released as Forest Glen Tehachapi Clone Pinot Grigio (suggested retail price $11.00).
       Ed. Note: For those unfamiliar with California’s geography, Tehachapi (pronounced Tee-HA!-chapee) is about 100 miles north of Los Angeles.

IN ITALY, PINOT NO-NO

On vacation in Italy last August, we were in Liguria, on the coast south of Genoa, an area so devoted to fish that the only meat I saw was prosciutto—and white-wine country. Obviously, this was the place to discover what sort of white wine Italians like to drink. The local wine is mostly made from the Vermentino grape, which was almost the new Pinot Grigio a couple of years ago, but couldn’t quite get there. Still, it’s tasty enough, especially when you’re on vacation, eating grilled fish and gnocchi in the sunshine, in the place where pesto sauce was invented. Every wine list we looked at led off with plenty of Vermentino, and some Pigato, the other local grape. None bothered with Gavi, the over-priced white wine of neighboring Piedmont, nor Soave. Here and here, we caught glimpses of Verdicchio.
       What most restaurants and the one upscale wine shop had from outsiders was Fiano from Campania, and a whole lot of different wines from Friuli, source of most of Italy’s best whites. And, of course, invariably, Pinot Grigio (though not always from Friuli, where Italy’s only distinctive versions come from).
       And everywhere we went, to the exasperation of my wife, I interviewed the waiters: What do people here mostly drink? The local wines, I was told. Do they drink Pinot Grigio? The reply, invariably, "Oh yes, signore." Italians? "Oh no, signore—the Americans, the English, the Germans, the Swiss--it’s very popular with them."