The Rake Magazine

It has a refreshingly prosaic name -- CMS Red -- and a label that reminds me somehow of industrial equipment, with a stamp certifying it's been approved by the Washington Wine Quality Alliance. But this wine is, in fact, a canny blend produced by Hedges Cellars, a mom-and-pop shop located on Red Mountain in Washington's Yakima Valley, that sells locally for $9-12 a bottle. CMS stands for Cabernet (39%), Merlot (57%), and Syrah (4%) -- an acronym of an appellation. And there's an equally basic white version, as well (CMS White, what else?) that's made from Chardonnay (44%), Marsanne (2%), and Sauvignon Blanc (54%).

I haven't tried the white, but CMS Red is one of those wines I keep on hand as back-up. It's big and fruity, full of blackberry and cherry, vanilla, clove, caramel and cassis. The quality of the flavor is very young: there's no mysterious alchemy of dusty cigar box and oak here. But the finish is respectable, leaving a hint of anise in its wake. I wouldn't serve CMS at a formal dinner party, but it's perfect for a 4th of July barbecue. And if you have a few bottles left over, stow them for a year or so. Peter Hedges' notes claim this blend was specially formulated to age well. Given his track record with finer wines, I believe it.

It is a sad fact that every year Heartland, the restaurant and wine bar on St. Clair Avenue, closes its doors for two weeks in summer. This is because owner Lenny Russo (formerly the executive chef at Cue) and his wife, Mega Hoehn (the wine maven), work non-stop the other 50 weeks a year -- also, because there's a death-like lull in our region's food service industry during cabin season.

What it comes down to is this: you have only two more days to get into the Heartland Wine Bar -- arguably the best little boîte in St. Paul -- for a glass of something truly unique and great. Along with your wine, you'll enjoy the eclectic musical selections of manager Christa Robinson (from The Floaters to Brenda Starr), and the evening's amuse bouche: a tiny ramekin containing chilled carrot mousse with fresh dill or duck confit and grilled ramps on a homemade wheat cracker.

Then, on July 1, Heartland will close for two weeks, reopening at 5:30 on July 17. So if you have time this warm, sunny, summer weekend, I heartily suggest you stop by to try one of Mega Hoehn's hand-picked whites:

Von Schleinitz "Slatestone" Riesling 2004 (Mosel, Germany) -- Sweet on the middle of the tongue but tart around the edges, this wine is full of honey and orange zest; it's also thicker than you might expect a Riesling to be, filled with wild flowers and the taste of warm sunshine. I recommend this wine with light food such as pasta, risotto, or broiled whitefish. (10% alcohol)

Domaine de la Racauderie Demi-Sec Vouvray 2004 (Loire Valley) -- This buttery golden wine has an astonishing bite that's all sweet onion and chive; but its lingering flavor is slightly citrusy, grassy with a hint of marigold, and very sturdy. The extra-long finish makes this Vouvray a red drinker's white. Drink it with shellfish or salmon, paella or pork. (12% alcohol)

Marqués de Cáceres Rioja 2005 (Rioja) -- Who knew a Rioja could be so white? This wine is a confetti of lemon and musk and a weirdly satisfying hint of roquefort cheese. Crisp, smooth, and very dry, with firm fruit and a lingering finish on the back of the tongue. A white that can stand up to pork, lean meat such as bison, or cave-aged cheese. (12.5% alcohol)

I attended a wedding over the weekend -- one of the loveliest I've ever seen, with a rose petal-strewn Japanese garden and a chuppa-like arbor under which the couple was joined. Topping off this perfect event was an exquisite wine: a delicate, slightly dry Pouilly-Fuissé from the house of Bouchard Aînés & Fils. If you think of Chardonnay as a bland, butter-colored liquid that went out of style in the '90's, give this a try. Pouilly-Fuissé is made from 100% Chardonnay grapes but takes its name from the Burgundy region in which they are grown. The Bouchard Aînés & Fils 2003 is a balance of gentle fruit -- apricot, apple, and lemon -- and mineral qualities, plus just a touch of honey. It was an ideal summer wedding wine: refined, light, and, from what I heard, universally liked. Also, it received 90 points from Wine News. I've searched the big wine vendors in town and found few that carry it, but it is available at Lakeside Fine Wines & Spirits, in Long Lake; and according to the distributor's website, it can be sourced through Paustis & Sons in Plymouth. (13% alcohol)

It's time for us to have a little talk about the appropriate temperature for serving wine.

A delicate white, such as a Riesling, should be served downright cold: 45-46 degrees. A heartier white, a Chardonnay or Sauterne, may benefit from a 48- to 52-degree environment in which it can mellow a bit. Lighter reds (Beaujolais, for instance) are best when served on the chilly side, around 55 degrees. And finally, rich reds -- everything from Zinfandel to Shiraz to Bordeaux -- are at their best when between 59 and 65 degrees.

But under no circumstances should an open bottle of, say, Cabernet Sauvignon, be stored near a sizzling kitchen in an 85-degree room, then served in a glass still warm from the dishwasher. And I wish someone would run right now and tell the entire staff at Minneapolis's newest trendy wine bar, Spill the Wine.

I went there tonight, not intending to write about the place. It was simply an evening out with my husband -- and a preview for me. But the experience was so abysmal, I decided I owe it to every patron in the Cities who cares one whit about whether their wine is oxidized, watery, sharp-tasting, or brown, to say something now.

First off, if you're going to enter the oenophilic field in the Twin Cities, competing with wine bars such as Lucia's, Heartland, and even Cafe Barbette, you should hire people who know a little something about, um, wine. . . .We asked our server two questions about the offerings, which was enough to know she had no idea what she was talking about. I ordered the White Knight Viognier (a wine I'd never heard of) and found that though it had a nice, bright opening flavor, the finish was dull and slightly bitter.

I switched to red even though it was 90 degrees outside (and not much cooler at our table): first, a glass of the Estancia Cabernet. I've drunk this several times -- it's a not-spectacular but perfectly serviceable dinner wine. The glass that arrived, however, was warm to the touch. And what was inside simply wasn't drinkable. It was roughly the temperature of the inside of someone's mouth and had the distinct off-taste that occurs only when a bottle is poorly handled: thrown into the trunk of a car on a summer afternoon, stored next to an oven, or left uncorked for a day and a half.

I rarely do this, but I sent the Cab back and asked once again for a recommendation. The polite but clueless young woman shrugged. So I went with the Parker Station Pinot Noir, another lackluster wine but one, frankly, that's hard to screw up. This pinot is simple and its flavors quite pliable. The glass, when it arrived (about ten minutes later) was barely passable: lukewarm and thin-tasting, but forgiving in its sweet berry qualities, as I'd hoped.

My husband drank a glass of the Trivento Malbec, a thick Argentinian wine, which he deemed mediocre and. . . .it was the theme of the evening where reds were concerned. . . .far, far too warm.

We ordered a light dinner -- the Waldorf salad for him and a Cobb for me -- and though neither was bad, each was so uninteresting, we easily could have made a comparable meal at home by opening a package of Dole pre-washed lettuce and squeezing the dressing that came with it out of a little plastic tube.

Our bill for this underwhelming adventure: $43.

I worry about places like Spill the Wine. I worry about the fact that an artsy little location -- just east and south of the Guthrie, and only blocks from the West Bank -- tin ceilings, black napkins, and an assortment of funky glassware, will convince some people they're getting their money's worth and experiencing fine wine the way it was meant to be consumed.

Not so. Someday, this could be a nice place: it has the cool old building, just-outside-downtown vibe, and proximity to the river road, where we enjoyed a nice walk after our meal. But I respectfully suggest that the managers of Spill the Wine should call up someone like Mitch Spencer at Haskell's, or Bill Summerville at La Belle Vie, and ask for a few basic lessons.

You? Right now, you're better off buying some nice salads at D'Amico & Sons, stopping at the liquor store for an $11 bottle of McManus Viognier or Bogle Old Vine Zin, and having a casual dinner in the comfort of your own home. Serve the wine at the right temperature and it doesn't really matter if you don't have a set of matched goblets. Jelly glasses will do.

My last experience with the Riverview Theater was when my mother took my sister and me to see a movie called The Other Side of the Mountain. It was the true story of a skier who plunged off a cliff while training for the Olympics and was paralyzed from the chest down. She rode around in a motorized wheelchair, learned to paint, and fell in love with a downhill medalist named Mad Dog, played by Beau Bridges.

So it's a cool, windy June evening nearly 30 years later and I'm sitting in the Riverview Wine Bar, staring at the theater marquee and remembering the scene where she sobs and tells him she's never had sex. He pulls out a handkerchief, wipes her nose for her, and says something like, "Don't worry about it. Sex isn't all it's cracked up to be," then strides off and promptly dies in an airplane accident (isn't that how all 70's love stories end?).

My mother and sister were weepy for days. I was unnerved. Imagine my relief, years later, when I discovered Beau was only being kind. . . .

I have plenty of time to muse about this, because I'm waiting for Johnny Hodges -- the manager, a spiky-haired musician in skin-tight striped pants who could be Billy Idol's little brother -- to create a flight for me. It's a wonderful thing, this service: you go into the Riverview wine bar, tell Johnny what you like, and he'll dream up a tasting for you. Four two-ounce pours that match your yearnings. Nine and a half bucks. What a deal.

I'm a woman who loves a big red, on the dry-ish side with tons of fruit and a very long finish -- particularly on an unseasonably chilly night in June. So after working the room and making recommendations all around, Johnny pulls out a card and makes some cryptic notes. Then he pours my four miniature glasses.

The first one is a big miss. Johnny describes Villa Carafa Sannio Aglianico D.O.C. 2001 (Italy -- 13% alcohol) as "like a Chianti that has all the things I love and none of the ones I hate. . . .plummy and raisiny with a nice, tart finish." I, however, find this wine bitter, shrewish, and empty, with no finish but for a lingering tongue-curling taste. And at $40 a bottle and $10.25 a glass, it's on the pricey side -- especially as I drink only a couple sips, leaving a good ounce and a half to be poured down the sink.

But Johnny's second selection, Chateau Couronneau Bordeaux Superieur 2004 (France -- 13.5% alcohol), is a great antidote. Smooth and round and big, tart around the edges of the tongue with a body of oak and wild strawberry, this wine is drinkable and versatile. It's great alone, but I can easily imagine having it with cheese, artichokes, or the crisp, fragrant Margarita pizza that's being enjoyed by the people at the next table. A full bottle of the Chateau Couronneau will set you back $34, but a glass is only $8.75.

The third, Sobon Estate Fiddletown Zinfandel 2005 (California -- 15.1% alcohol), is "hot": the vapors coming off it as boozy as rum. This wine is big, too -- full of flavor that marches through the mouth, blackberry, cherry, a little butter, licorice, pepper, and meat. I will rarely say this, but the Fiddletown is so weighty, it's not for drinking solo. This Zin requires food to balance it out, some chewy bread soaked in olive oil or an antipasto platter with plenty of peppers and smoked meats. It's $39 a bottle and $10 per glass, but given the alcohol content, you can't drink much.

Finally, there is the Mas de Gourgonnier 2004 (Provence -- 12.5% alcohol), a lush red that takes my breath away. "So earthy, you could stick a pitchfork in it," Johnny tells me. And he's right. This wine is warm and soft and jammy, with a hint of mushroom and peat. Drinking it makes me think of fresh rain in the morning; the rhythm of horse hooves at a canter; black soil and yellow sun and blue sky. Plus, it's a bargain! The Mas de Gourgonnier sells for just $28 a bottle and $7.25 a glass. I could drink this one all evening and, in fact, I do, sipping slowly, gazing at the marquee across the street, thinking of movies, mountains, and the well-intentioned lies men may tell.