Most evenings, around six, Susan and I stand in the little nook off the kitchen that we call the cellar, though it is really just a stretch of north-facing wall with two pine racks I built the summer we moved into the barn. I will pull a bottle, hold it up to the light, and say something Susan has heard a thousand times: this one or this one. We have been doing this for forty-four years. And I will tell you a small secret. After thirty years of importing wine for a living, after sitting in cool cellars in Chinon and Barolo and walking rows in the Mosel, the question I get asked most often is still the simplest one. How do I pick a bottle.
So let us walk through it the way a friend would, not the way a wine list would.
Start with weight, not color
The old rule, white with fish, red with meat, is not wrong. It is just too narrow. The better question is the weight of the food on the plate. A poached sole is light. A pan-roasted chicken thigh with mustard sauce is medium. A short rib braised three hours in red wine is heavy. You match the weight of the pour to the weight of the food, and the color almost takes care of itself.
A lightly chilled Pinot Noir from Oregon or the Cote de Beaune will sit beautifully with that mustard chicken. A glass of unoaked Chardonnay from Macon or a producer in Sonoma Coast will not embarrass itself next to a roast pork loin. If you remember one thing from this piece, remember this. Weight first, color second.
Dry, off-dry, and sweet
People use the word dry as if it means good, and sweet as if it means cheap. Neither is true. Dry simply means there is not much residual sugar in the bottle. An off-dry wine, like a German Kabinett Riesling or a Vouvray from the Loire, has a kiss of sweetness that is one of the great pleasures of the table, especially with anything spicy or with a salty cheese. If you have written off Riesling because someone told you it was sweet, you have been missing out for years. Find a Mosel Kabinett from a producer like Selbach-Oster or Donnhoff and pour it slightly cold with a takeout Thai dinner. You will write me a letter.
Reds, briefly and honestly
Among the reds you are most likely to see on a shelf or a restaurant list, here is a quick map.
- Pinot Noir. Lighter body, bright acidity, smells of cherry and forest floor. Burgundy is the heartland. Oregon and the Sonoma Coast do honest work for a fraction of the price.
- Merlot. Plummy, soft tannins, friendly. Suffered a reputational hit twenty years ago that it did not deserve. A good Pomerol or a Washington State Merlot is a serious pour.
- Cabernet Sauvignon. Bigger, structured, tannic when young. Built for steak and lamb. Napa is the famous address, but Coonawarra in Australia and the left bank of Bordeaux make wonderful versions too.
- Syrah, or Shiraz down under. Pepper, dark fruit, a meaty edge. Northern Rhone is the reference. The new wave from Sonoma and the Santa Barbara hills is doing fine work.
- Sangiovese. The grape of Chianti and Brunello. Sour cherry, leather, tea. Made for tomato sauce in a way that almost nothing else is.
- Zinfandel. California's adopted son. Big, jammy, sometimes a bit hot. A producer like Ridge keeps it honest.
Whites, just as briefly
- Sauvignon Blanc. Crisp, grassy, almost sharp. Sancerre is the model. A glass with goat cheese is one of life's reliable pleasures.
- Chardonnay. The chameleon. Lean and mineral from Chablis, richer and oakier from Napa or the warmer parts of Burgundy. Know which kind you are buying.
- Pinot Grigio. Light, clean, often forgettable. Look to the Alto Adige or Friuli for the versions that justify their price.
- Riesling. See above. Do not skip it.
- Chenin Blanc. A South African specialty and the soul of Vouvray. Honeyed, lively, ages beautifully.
Region matters less than the producer
If you take only one piece of unsolicited advice from a retired importer, take this one. The name on the label that matters most is not the region. It is the producer. A modest Cotes du Rhone from a careful producer will outdrink a flashy Chateauneuf from a careless one. I have a $14 Cotes du Rhone from a small house in Cairanne that has been on our weeknight table since the early 2010s. It is honest, it is alive, and it makes a Tuesday pasta feel like Sunday.
This is also why the great wine countries you may not think of, Chile, Argentina, Portugal, and increasingly Greece and Croatia, are worth your attention. A Douro red from a thoughtful producer is a remarkable value right now. Spanish Garnacha from old vines in Calatayud is another. Ask your wine merchant who they are excited about. A good shop will have someone whose face lights up at that question.
About vintage
Vintage matters more for the top end than for the everyday bottle. For wines you intend to drink within a couple of years of purchase, you do not need to memorize charts. That said, since the question comes up: 2019 and 2020 were both strong years in much of Bordeaux and Burgundy, 2021 was cooler and produced leaner, more classical wines that some of us prefer to the riper years, and 2022 in France was a heat-stressed but high-quality harvest, particularly for reds. California's 2020 was disrupted by smoke in a number of places, so look at producers individually rather than at the year as a whole. None of this should keep you awake.
The 2026 landscape, plainly
A word on what has shifted since I started in this trade. The non-alcoholic and lower-alcohol category, the de-alcoholized wines, has grown into something real over the past two or three years. Some of it is genuinely well-made now, particularly in the sparkling category. If you are cutting back, you do not have to drink seltzer. The orange wines and the pet-nats are still around and still fashionable in the wine bars, and some of them are interesting. Many are not. Try one before you buy a case.
Practical takeaways for a Tuesday
- Find one neighborhood wine shop and become a regular. Ask the same person every time. Tell them what you ate last week and what you liked.
- Keep a $12 to $18 weeknight red and a $12 to $18 weeknight white on hand. That is the workhorse zone, and it is full of joy.
- Do not chill your reds to numbness or serve your whites at refrigerator temperature. About sixty-two degrees for most reds, fifty for most whites, is the rough target. Twenty minutes out of the fridge for a red, twenty minutes in for a white, and you are close.
- Open the bottle a little earlier than you think. Even modest reds benefit from a half hour in the glass.
- If you do not love it after two sips, put it aside. Life is too short, and there are too many good bottles waiting.
The right wine, in the end, is the one in your hand at a table with the people you like. The rest is footnotes. Pour something tonight, and pay attention to what it tells you.