And so we have come, dear reader, to the end of the road. Yes, I am sad to report that you are reading what is to be the final installment of Penniless Epicure published by Manhattan Media. I don’t know if I’ve actually picked up any regular readers over the three-plus years that I’ve been writing this column. In my fantasy I imagine hordes of smartly dressed oenophiles rushing to the nearest Our Town or West Side Spirit receptacle every Thursday morning, pushing each other out of the way to get at the first, fresh copy of my droplets of wine-wisdom.

The reality is probably more along the lines of: every once in a while someone who has picked up the paper in order to read about some local news decides, “Hey, what the heck—I’ve always wanted to know what they put on the last couple pages of this thing.”

So, whether this is your first time reading this column or your 150-something’th, thank you!

Now … I suppose I should write a little bit about wine for my final column, right? But what exactly does one write about such an insanely vast subject, knowing that this is the last bit of info that they’re tossing onto the pile?

A list of my all-time-favorite wines? A rant about the rudeness of New York City restaurant patrons? A rant about the apathy of New York City wait staff? Hmm …

What I think I’ll try to do is be as simple and basic as I can and talk about what I think are the most important things to remember when drinking wine:

Read … and drink while you read! There is so much literature about wine. There’s probably more literature about wine than there is wine itself. And that’s a good and a bad thing. It’s good because no matter what you’re drinking, someone has written about it. It’s bad because it’s confusing. So read up, but drink while you read. It’s the only way you’re going to understand which wine writers you agree with and which ones you think are completely full of crap.

And go all over the place. Don’t just read Parker and Oz Clarke. Give some of the little guys a chance, too. You never know. You might realize that your favorite wine writer works for some obscure neighborhood paper on the Upper East (or West) Side of Manhattan.

Don’t spend too much (except every once in a while, when you should spend a lot). It’s been the trend for the last decade and a half, so I know I’m not blowing anyone’s minds here, but value wines are some of the best wines in the world. You don’t (and shouldn’t) have to spend a mint to have a great bottle of wine with dinner. Argentina, Chile, South Africa, and even areas of France and Italy all have plenty of wonderful, low-priced selections that will blow your mind.

That being said, you should definitely buy expensive wine. You deserve it! Not every week. Maybe not even every month if you can’t afford it, but you should treat yourself every once in a while. Partially because it just feels kind of cool to lay down that kind of cabbage in public for a luxury item. But also because, as a serious wine drinker, it’s a reference point. Take notes, compare and contrast, and you’ll probably enjoy it immensely and also realize all the things those cheaper bottles have going for them.

Drink what you like. Period. End of sentence. This is all you really need to know. Don’t let others judge you for what you’re drinking, and don’t judge yourself. Also: drink what you like with what you like. Have a chardonnay with that steak! Gulp some merlot with that flounder! If that’s what you dig, then that’s what you should consume. Any “wine rules” are really just suggestions. Try them out, and if you like it better your way, then do it your way!

I’d like to thank Jerry Portwood for hiring me, Charlotte Eichna for being my editor during my first year with the company and Allen Houston for putting up with me for the last several years. Thanks for reading!

Follow Josh on Twitter: @joshperilo.

Many years ago, when I moved to New York City, I was forced to earn my living from temp work. I say forced, but really I was lucky to have a job, with the limited skill set that I had. Unfortunately, though, it meant I was often placed into the positions that were the most monotonous.

Every once in a while, I caught a break.

I was lucky enough to land a long-term receptionist gig at The Standard Bank of South Africa. “Why would you be psyched about that?” you ask? Well, in South Africa, it’s all about Friday afternoons.

The first Friday I worked there, everyone suddenly disappeared at 1 p.m. I assumed the staff had gone home early, until I heard a noise from the kitchen. I popped my head in and saw the entire office sitting around getting wasted on South African wine.

Aside from my shock at a ritual that was, what I soon learned, the norm in South Africa, I had no idea that there was such a thing as a South African wine. My world was about to be rocked. Wines have been made in South Africa since the 1600s, but it wasn’t until the late 20th century that South African wines came into their own and began being exported in any significant amount.

If there is one grape that is more famous (and infamous) than any other in South Africa, it is pinotage. This grape was invented in 1925 by crossing the cinsault and pinot noir grapes. Pinot noir, being too fragile to grow in South Africa’s hot climate, was bolstered by cinsault’s hearty character in a plant that should have been a supergrape. Instead, it became the laughing stock of South African wine for decades to follow. Pinotage was almost always overly earthy on the palate with burnt, charcoal-like flavors. Any fruitiness tended to be underripe and sour.

Today, more and more truly great pinotages are being made, however. The Golden Kaan Pinotage 2010 ($14 at Garnet Wines and Liquors, 929 Lexington Ave., betw. 68th and 69th Sts., 212-772-3212, garnetwine.com) is an excellent example of just how far this upstart grape has come from its laboratory beginnings. This hearty red starts with smoky and leathery scents. The fruit flavors are bold, with mouthwatering dried cranberry notes and a spicy, smoked bacon finish. This is a great red all on its own but is even better with a plate of baby back ribs.

Chenin blanc, or “Steen,” as it is nicknamed there, is the grape that most exemplifies the South African white wine taste. Unfortunately, South Africa has failed to make a significant foothold in the international wine market. This has led many producers to panic and uproot their older, more intensely flavored chenin blanc vines and instead plant younger sauvignon blanc and chardonnay vines, in an effort to compete with these better known varietals from South America, Australia and New Zealand. This is unfortunate, because a great chenin blanc, like the Rudera “Teddy Hall” Chenin Blanc 2010, with its signature flavors of apple, pear and stone fruit, is inexpensive, delicious and uniquely South African.

Not only is sparkling wine being made in virtually every wine-producing area of the world, it is, in many cases, being made very well. Graham Beck Brut NV ($16.99 at Sherry-Lehmann Wine and Spirits Merchants, 505 Park Ave., at 60th St., 212-838-7500, sherry-lehmann.com) is a nonvintage sparkling wine made using the same grapes used in Champagne (in this case a 54 percent chardonnay, 46 percent pinot noir mix) and the same method used to make Champagne, but at a sliver of the price. With rich citrusy flavors of orange and vanilla, this will make you feel like a high roller without having to peel off too much cabbage.

By the end of my short tenure at the Standard Bank of South Africa I had gained little in physical possessions, but my interest in South African wines had been piqued. It was definitely the most enjoyable temp job I ever had. Without a doubt, I never looked at the phrase “casual Fridays” the same way again.

Whatever your politics are, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that there are some pretty huge problems inherent in the current business of agriculture. Way back in the 1920s, before anyone was yammering on about corn subsidies or crop rotation, an Austrian scientist named Rudolf Steiner developed a revolutionary treatise concerning the growing of grapes for wine. Though he didn’t coin the term “biodynamic” himself, his ideas are the basis of this school of thought. His philosophy centered on the idea of natural balance—specifically, the symbiotic balance of the soil with not just the air here on Earth, but the entire cosmos. He thought that if man, nature, soil and the cosmos were in balance, the Earth would be healthier, and, in turn, the grapes that grew from that soil.

These ideas penetrate every part of the grape growing cycle, starting with the farmers timing every activity in accordance with the position of the moon and stars. The fertilization of the field, pruning and harvesting are all mapped out, not only to the day, but down to the hour that is the most favorable in the eyes of the universe. The farmers who practice biodynamism claim there is a marked difference in the plants come harvest time: The leaves are healthier, the grapes ripen earlier and the grape skins are thicker.

As in organic wine making, chemicals of any kind are out of the question. In biodynamics, however, the type of fertilizer used for the vines is so specific that they must use a different type for each part of the plant. Regular old cow dung compost is used for the soil. For the roots, however, horn dung is used. Finally, for better photosynthesis, horn silica is used. This is a mixture of pulverized silicum that is mixed with water in the horn of a cow (a mixture that must be stirred in a specific pattern to adhere to—you guessed it—the cosmos) then buried for several months to cure.

At this point, you are no doubt thinking, “These people sound crazy!”

If the wines made by these moon-dancing lunatics were no better than wine made by anyone using typical modern wine making techniques, I would completely agree. But many of them aren’t just better. They’re the best.

M. Chapoutier, arguably the most well known producer in all of the Rhone Valley, uses biodynamic techniques in most of their wines. Many of Chapoutier’s Rhone wines are prohibitively expensive, but they have a handful of less expensive offerings that are just as good, including Chapoutier Bila-Haut 2008 Côtes de Roussillon ($13.99 at Morrell & Co., 1 Rockefeller Plaza at Fifth Avenue btwn. 49th and 50th, 212-688-9370). Grown south of the Rhone, this robust red still uses the typical Southern Rhone grape varietals Syrah, Grenache and Carignan. It is spicy up top with baked strawberry fruit through the middle and a cedary, cinnamon-laden finish.

Nicolas Joly is the last word in Savennières, the complex white wine that hails from the central Loire Valley in France’s northwest. Producing full bodied whites that can go toe to toe with most high-end white Burgundies, Joly also implements fully biodynamic practices. Nicolas Joly “Les Clos Sacrés,” 2006 Savennières ($48.99 at Beacon Wine and Spirits, 2120 Broadway at 74th Street, 212-877-0028) may be a bit more pricey, but it is worth every penny. Right out of the bottle it gives tons of green apple, pear and honeysuckle, but once it has opened for a half hour or so, it begins changing. Scents of wildflowers and notes of burnt sugar, tropical fruit and a nutty finish on the palate make this one of the most interesting white wines I have ever tasted.

Whether you are a convert of the ideas (and ideals) behind biodynamics, it is difficult to argue quackery when faced with amazing wines such as these.

Anyone who knows me knows that I cheer for the underdog—especially when it comes to wine. And when I was a wine director, I would often try to convince patrons to branch out and try something new. Some people called my methods sneaky. I argue that I was just giving them an unsolicited experience.

“Mmm,” the woman at table 10 cooed, “This is the best North Fork chardonnay I’ve ever had.”

“It’s better than that,” I replied, “because it’s not even from the North Fork.”

“Where is it from?”

“Seneca Lake,” I clipped back at her. “Upstate New York.”

I only got in trouble for my little trick once. But it was worth it!

Grapes for winemaking have been grown in the Finger Lakes area of Upstate New York for over 100 years. That’s decades longer than the Russian River or Napa Valley. The white wines from the Finger Lakes are exceptionally underrated and always have been; not like the wines from the North Fork of Long Island, which are, for some reason, much more popular and expensive.

There are a handful of Long Island wines that are good, but there isn’t the consistency of quality that you’ll find with the whites from Upstate.

And it really just boils down to one thing: experience. Those vineyards on the North Fork were potato fields only a handful of years ago. I suppose it’s kind of cool that you can drive by P. Diddy’s mansion and a vineyard full of cabernet franc within the same 45 minutes, but is it worth the price tag?

In my opinion, no, it is not. That is why I am placing on their rightful pedestal the white wines of New York’s Finger Lakes. They are delicious, of a consistent high quality and very inexpensive.

One of the pioneers of the Finger Lakes growing area was Dr. Konstantin Frank. He was the first viticulturist to make a real impact in the area, and the wines from the vineyard he started still bear his name today. The Dr. Konstantin Frank Semi-Dry Riesling 2010 ($18.99 at Gotham Wines and Liquors, 2517 Broadway at 94th St., 212-932-0990, gothamwines.com) is a stellar example of a classic Finger Lakes-style riesling. As the name suggests, it does have a touch of residual sweetness on the finish, but the natural acidity of the riesling grape counters that nicely. It is a refreshing wine, full of easy to enjoy apricot and orange flavors, and is just as good by itself as it is paired with something spicy like pad Thai.

Another local gem from the Seneca Lake area is the Lamareaux Landing Chardonnay 2010 ($14.99 at America‘s Wine Shop, 398 3rd Ave. at 28th St., 800-865-0982, americaswineshop.com). This is an excellent and less expensive alternative to a typical oaky California-style chardonnay. The Lamareaux Landing has a touch of oak flavor, but doesn’t make it the main event. Instead, the wine focuses on peach and tropical fruit flavor notes, making the oak taste a subtle backdrop. This is a serious enough chardonnay to stand up to lobster tail with drawn butter, but is also fruity enough to be sipped all by itself.

I know I said I was going to focus on white wines from Upstate New York, but one of my absolute favorites from the area is actually a rosé. Chateau Lafayette Reneau Pinot Noir Blanc 2010 ($10.99 at Garnet Wines and Liquors, 929 Lexington Ave. at 68th St., 212-772-3212, garnetwine.com) is a rare treat that the folks from Chateau Lafayette Reneau make only a handful of times a decade. If the pinot noir crop yields are high enough, the extra that isn’t used to make their regular pinot noir is made into a light pink, strawberry-laden nectar. Dancing just on the edge of semi-dry, the pinot noir grape gives this deceptively complex summer sipper a boatload of ripe, red fruit and a kick of citrus to balance the whole package out on the finish. Buy it by the case!

So the next time you want to take in the bounty that New York State has to offer, head due north instead of east. The real estate is cheaper and the wine is more delicious.

Confused?

So are most people when trying to buy Italian wine. The number of grape varietals grown throughout Italy is staggering (estimated at over 2,000), and the regions are just as prolific. Unlike Germany and France, every area of Italy grows grapes that are used to make wine. The best-known are, of course, the Tuscan areas of Chianti and Montalcino and the Piemonte area of Brunello. There are hundreds more, however, that make both well-known and little-known wines. That’s where it can get super confusing.

When navigating the tangle of vines that make up the Italian wine landscape, the most important thing to help you is the label. This may sound simplistic, but if you remember the basics about how the Italians label their wines, it will make it easier for you to track down something you like…or at least know the right questions to ask the salesperson or sommelier.

Like France and Germany, Italy has wine laws that require producers to include specific grapes in wines that feature only an area’s name on its label. For instance, if a wine is called Barolo, that means that it is from the area of Barolo (a subregion of Piemonte). It also means that, due to Italian wine law, this red wine is made exclusively from the nebbiolo grape.

The reason for this naming practice is the same as it is in France: quality. The idea is that if a specific Italian wine is so spectacular as to be known the world round, it should be associated with the specific area that it is made in and not with the grape it is made from. Nebbiolo can be grown anywhere, but Barolo can only be made in Barolo.

What about all the wine made in places that don’t have names like Barolo, Chianti and Montalcino? That’s where wine naming in Italy becomes unique. In these other areas, the name of the wine will actually tell you everything you need to know. Take, for instance, the white wine trebbiano d’Abruzzo. What the name of a regional Italian wine like this tells you is what the wine is made of (the trebbiano grape) and where it is from (the Abruzzo region).

Now that everything‘s clear, there will never be any reason for you to be confused when purchasing Italian wine ever again. Right?

Sadly, this is not the case. As with the riddle I posed in the opening, there will always be strange and confusing conundrums in the Italian wine world. This is the result of an ever-evolving language forged from different regions that, until the 20th century, had little to do with each other aside from proximity. Montepulciano the grape grows throughout central Italy, but most famously in the area of Abruzzo. There, it is made into the popular montepulciano d’Abruzzo. While there are many delicious montepulciano d’Abruzzos made with style and finesse, most are considered, by and large, quaffing wines for the masses.

Montepulciano, the area, on the other hand, is a medieval village in the region of Tuscany. There, a wine called Vino Nobile di Montepulciano has been made for hundreds of years. This wine isn’t made from a grape called Vino Nobile (it is made from a clone of sangiovese called prugnolo), but the name comes from the noble reputation of those who drank it. Once considered on par with its Tuscan brothers Montalcino and Chianti, Vino Nobile di Montepulciano’s status as one of the three great wines from Tuscany has fallen a bit in recent years.

The main thing to remember when you are tasting Italian wine is geography. Take notes on what wines you like from specific Italian regions. This will help you the next time you are in a wine store or at a restaurant and are confronted with nothing but a name staring back at you.

Follow Josh on Twitter: @joshperilo.

“No, you are not spending $65 on that teeny, tiny bottle of wine,” said my wife, arms crossed, hands on hips.

“You don’t understand,” I said, cradling the bottle like it was a baby, “it’s ice wine!”

I left without my ice wine that day, but my passion for it was not deterred.

“It’s just a dessert wine,” she said later. “We can get a bottle of Moscato instead.”

I gasped audibly. How could she? The two had as little to do with each other as a cabernet sauvignon and a chenin blanc.
Dessert wines get a bad rap, in general. If they aren’t all getting lumped together, they’re being dismissed as sissy drinks or unsophisticated, simplistic backwash. I couldn’t disagree more, especially when it comes to the super-rare and ultra-expensive ice wine (or eiswein, if it’s German).

Ice wine is amazing, and not just because it sounds like a beverage from Game of Thrones. The reason the flavors in ice wine are so intense, and the cause for its extreme price, has to do with how it’s made.

In Germany, the growing areas tend to be relatively cool, so the growing season is longer. The Germans classify their grapes for wine by how late into the harvest they are picked. A Kabinett is a wine made from grapes picked at normal harvest time. If it’s a good year and the grapes are ripening slower, then Spatelese (“late harvest”), Auslese (“select harvest”) or even Beerenauslese or Trockenbeerenauslese (“select berry harvest” and “dried select berry harvest,” respectively) are made. While those are a mouthful and extremely rare, even rarer is the once-a-decade jewel in the crown of any Riesling grower: eiswein.

If the grapes are allowed to stay on the vines all the way to the first frost, eiswein can be made. The traditional way to harvest these berries is before dawn after the first frost, with gloved hands so as not to warm the chilled berries with your body heat. The grapes are then crushed before they have a chance to thaw and the water rises to the top in the form of ice. The ice is removed and the tiny amount of juice that is left is made into wine.

What does this incredibly complex process yield? One of the most seductive, complex and nuanced beverages you will ever have the privilege of sipping…if you can afford it, that is. Often packaged in half-bottles, new vintages of German eiswein often average around $150 to $200. So how can a normal person get hold of some of this amazing stuff? One solution is to go north. Canada, while not the ideal climate for most wine grapes, is the perfect place to produce ice wine. There are dozens of reputable producers of ice wine from our northern brethren, but my favorite has to be Inniskillin Riesling Icewine ($79.95 at Sherry-Lehmann, 505 Park Ave., at 59th St., 212-838-7500). At half the price of what you would pay for the same quality from Germany, you get the complex flavors of honey, overripe peach, wildflowers and bracing citrus.

If you’re looking for something even less expensive, Inniskillin makes an ice wine from the North American grape vidal that is not as complex but is still delicious and intense.

Another way to get the ice wine flavor without the cost is by buying what is known as a “freezer wine.” These wines are made by freezing the grapes after they’ve been picked, then taking away the excess water and fermenting from there. While most freezer wines are vastly inferior in taste and many purists regularly lobby for them to be outlawed outright, there are a few that are worth trying. The Bonny Doon Muscat Vin de Glaciere ($20 at First Avenue Wines & Spirits, 383 1st Ave., at 22nd St., 212-673-3600) has all of the sweet honeyed stone fruit you could ever ask for in an ice wine, plus a sucker punch of spice on the finish.

Don’t let the heavy price tag of German eiswein put a chill on your dessert plans. There are plenty of alternatives well within your monetary means that will keep you in sweet wine bliss indefinitely.

Follow Josh on Twitter: @joshperilo.

Well, I’ve already checked into the summer rental in my mind. I’ve already tucked away my trove of heavy reds and invested in at least a case-worth of refreshing and light summery whites. And there are thousands to choose from. But, when I think about my ideal summer sipper, I almost always turn to one area first: France’s Loire Valley. In the northwestern corner of France, this area is often underestimated and overlooked, but it has an amazing array of versatile offerings. At over 600 miles in length,the river offers wines that vary greatly in style, but all subregions contribute to the great summer white wine collective.

Starting as far inland as the valley extends, we find the area of the Loire that encompasses the famous white wines of Sancerre and Pouilly-Fumé. In this neck of the woods, Sauvignon Blanc is king, and it is argued that most great Sauvignon Blancs made around the world attempt to duplicate the flavor and nuance of these great wines. Because Sancerre and Pouilly-Fumé are so well known, they tend to be the most expensive wines that come from the Loire. While only a Sauvignon Blanc made from grapes inside the strict confines of the Sancerre or Pouilly-Fumé areas can carry this prestigious name, wines made from Sauvignon Blanc from just outside of these areas can be just as good without commanding the same price. Henri Bourgeois Sauvignon Blanc 2010 ($12.99 at Yorkshire Wine and Spirits, 1646 1st Avenue at 85th Street, 212-717-5100) falls into this category. Grapefruit flavor and scents of fresh-cut grass and flint make this a pitch perfect Loire Sauvignon Blanc.

In the Central Loire, the areas tend to have more distinct personalities from subregion to subregion.
While the flavor profiles may change as you travel, Chenin Blanc is almost always the grape that dominates the white wines of these collected areas. Chenin Blanc is a chameleon grape that can taste as full bodied and complex as a Chardonnay from Burgundy, or as light and sweet as a German Riesling. The best-known incarnation of this grape from the Central Loire is Vouvray. Even within this area, Chenin Blanc is made
into different styles of Vouvray, from sticky sweet to austere and bone dry. The best examples tend to straddle the line between the two extremes. A great example of this is Domaine de Vigneau- Chevreau Vouvray Sec 2010 ($21.00 at 67 Wine, 179 Columbus Ave. at 68th Street, 212-724-6767). Lots of white peach and apricot flavors burst onto the palate, and a veritable bouquet of wildflowers are present on the nose. This is the absolute best that the Central Loire has to offer at this price point.

The westernmost area of the Loire sees the river empty into the Atlantic and the terrain turn from fertile to rocky. This is where the lean and minerally Muscadet wines of the Loire are made. Contrary to what the name suggests, these wines are not made from the Muscat grape, but from the obscure Melon de Bourgogne grape. The best examples of these light white wines are the ones that are left to mature on their spent yeast cells (or lees) after they ferment. This gives the otherwise flimsy wine more body and character. When choosing a Muscadet, always look for the words Sur Lie on the bottle to ensure this. Domaine de la Batardière Muscadet Sèvre et Maine, 2010 ($11.99 at Beacon
Wines and Spirits, 2120 Broadway at 74th   Street, 212-877-0028) is a perfect example of this style of Muscadet. Almost as light as the ocean spray, but with just enough creaminess to match perfectly with any raw shellfish, this is a must have for any summer seafood feast. So, when  searching for light summer whites of any style, look to the north of France for inspiration. There’s enough variety to keep you trying something new every week till it’s time to put that seersucker suit back in mothballs.

Follow Josh on Twitter: @joshperilo.

After my article last week about syrahs from northern Rhone, I had a friend ask me a question that I’ve fielded numerous times about that region and many, many others: “If Syrah and Shiraz are the same,” he asked, “why don’t they taste the same?”

It is the question that has haunted sommeliers since the 1970s: Old World vs. New World. No phrase is as bandied about as those five words in the world of wine. Is it really a “vs.” situation? Is one better than the other? And what is the difference—if there is, indeed, a difference at all?

The concept of Old World/New World didn’t really exist in the early 1970s. Respectable wine came from France, straw-bottle chianti came from Italy and Gallo came from California. Then the revolution happened. Innovators like Robert Mondavi and landmark events like the Paris Tasting of 1976 changed the landscape forever.

The new world of wine emerged, and for the next several decades, wines began to fall squarely into two camps: Old World and New World.

The first thing that distinguishes whether a wine is Old World or New World is where it is made. Areas of the world that have been important in winemaking for hundreds of years tend to fall into the Old World category—Bordeaux, Burgundy, Rhone and the Loire Valley regions of France; the Piemonte, Tre Venezie and several other smaller regional spots of Italy; Germany; much of Spain; and Portugal are all considered Old World. The United States, Australia, South America, New Zealand and South Africa are considered New World.

There are confusing areas, however, like the Languedoc-Roussillon area of southern France and the Rioja area of Spain, which make wines that can be considered, taste-wise, both Old and New World.

Which brings us to the second category that distinguishes the two types of wine: taste. Generally speaking, New World wines are what wine snobs call “fruit forward.” What that really means is that when you take a sip of one of these wines, the first thing you taste is bold fruit flavor. Old World wines may have a fruitiness to them, but it may not be the main event, so to speak. There are many other earthier, spice-driven, herbal flavors that are hallmarks of the Old World-style wines.

Also, while New World wines are simpler, easier to drink on their own and, by some accounts, more immediately accessible, Old World wines are more complex and are oftentimes better to pair with food.

Another very important part of what differentiates Old World wines from New World wines are climate and soil. Old World areas tend to have soils that are less fertile and are sometimes downright rocky. This may sound terrible for growing grapes, but the struggle the grapes go through to grow in these areas produces a lower yield and, therefore, more intense grapes with a stronger flavor. Very often, these regions also have cooler climates, which also prolongs the growing season, adding to the complexity.

In many New World areas, the soil is fertile and the climate is warmer. This produces a higher yield of grapes that ripen quicker, making a wine that is, very often, simpler, fruitier and higher in alcohol.

The final component of what differentiates New World from Old World is winemaking technique and philosophy. This is part of the reason New World-style wines can be made in Spain and the south of France. With New World wines, new American oak is often used, which imparts a stronger flavor and smell than French oak. With Old World wines, the emphasis is often put on making wines that are complex and layered. Oftentimes, wines are made that aren’t meant to be opened until many years after they’ve been released.

To get a good idea of how Old World and New World wines compare, get two wines made from the same grape but from different areas, like the Domaine Carneros Pinot Noir (New World) and the Chateau de la Maltroye Bourgogne Rouge (Old World). Both are pinot noir, but the difference will astonish you and your palate will be illuminated.

Follow Josh on Twitter: @joshperilo.

About five or six years ago, it was on the menu of every high-end restaurant in the city. The now defunct Chanterelle actually had a tasting menu that paired seven courses with seven different types. Sherry-Lehmann had an entire section devoted to them exclusively.

People who had always made fun of and ridiculed the stuff were suddenly fair-weather converts, praising its unique qualities and gulping it by the bottle. And now, it is once again difficult to find anyone anywhere who has a serious enthusiasm for it.

I am referring to the often misunderstood star of the southern Spanish wine world: sherry. Once one of the most drunk beverages in the world, this shy little quaffer is now exiled to the back of most liquor stores, often displaying a generous coating of dust. Then, when someone actually buys that ancient bottle of fino and tries it at home (probably at room temperature), they end up throwing it out, declaring, “I’ll never understand how anyone can drink this!”

To understand why someone might drink it, it’s best to understand how it is made. Unlike port, which many people place in the same category as sherry, this product is not all that sturdy. Port was designed for travel. High alcohol and high sugar make it a durable commodity. Many sherries are very delicate.

All sherry must come from one of three small towns in the southwestern area of Spain: Jeres de la Frontera, Sanlúcar de Barrameda or El Puerto de Santa María. Back in the day, wine was stored in barrels that were turned on their sides and stacked on top of each other, three or four rows high. Two-thirds of the wine was taken from the bottom barrel and bottled, then the remainder was filled from the row above. This was repeated until the top row of barrels was refilled with the new wine from that year. This was called the solera system and is still used to this day. Because of this, there are no vintages of sherry. It is all multi-vintage.

But the solera system is only half of what made sherry unique. Sherries themselves were radically different depending on what city they were from and even which part of those cities the wine was made in. This was all because of humidity and yeast. In the towns that were more humid and closer to the ocean (Sanlúcar de Barrameda, in particular), the yeasts would “bloom” and form a skin on top of the wine in the barrel. This would keep the wine from being exposed to oxygen and thus make a lighter, crisper, drier wine. It was also a much more fragile wine, because as soon as it was exposed to the elements, it would begin to deteriorate. These dry sherries were given the classification “fino,” and the driest of the finos was called manzanilla.

These, like the “La Guita” Manzanilla ($7.99 at 67 Wine, 179 Columbus Ave., at 68th St., 212-724-6767) with sea air and raw almond flavors, must be served cold and fresh. This isn’t a bottle you want to age.

With the sherries that did not benefit from the yeast’s bloom, the resulting product was richer, nuttier and more complex. Amontillado is the name given to the style of sherry that had oxidized only a little bit. Amontillados like the Valdespino Amontillado “Contrabandista” ($26.99 at PJ Wine, 4898 Broadway, betw. 204th & 207th Sts., 212-567-5500), with flavors of hazelnut, orange peel and butterscotch, still retain a bit of the crisp flavor profile that the finos have, but are definitely in a class by themselves.

There are other sherries, though, that are allowed to completely oxidize and are made from a sweeter, more robust grape. Pedro Ximénez sherries are dark as molasses and extremely sweet—so much so that a traditional dessert in Southern Spain was a scoop of vanilla ice cream with a drizzle of a PX like the Osborne Pedro Ximenez ($17.99, also at 67 Wine) on top.

Don’t be afraid of the bottles in the back of the store! Try a sherry the next time you want an inexpensive trip to the Spanish coast.

Follow Josh on Twitter: @joshperilo.

This is the case with last week’s Penniless Epicure column and the one the week before. I began by discussing the unfair reputation that screw cap wines have had to shake here in the United States and in many parts of Europe. That led me to talk about the very reason why screw caps are a great idea in the first place: the inefficiency of cork. The main reason for cork’s inefficiency is that it allows for the two most common kinds of wine spoilage, which are oxidization and corkage (or TCA, for all you chemistry students out there).

How exactly does cork lead to spoilage in the case of oxidization, you ask? Inconsistency in storage temperature. The cooler it gets, the more the cork contracts and vice versa. This leads to the cork’s airtight seal becoming compromised and oxygen being allowed to seep in, which basically puts the wine’s aging process in fast forward.

All of this led to my wife asking, as I poured her a glass of champagne on Valentine’s Day, “How come we drink white wine cold and red wine at room temperature?”

I opened my mouth to respond and realized I didn’t have a really great answer. I thought about it long and hard and realized that the reason I don’t have a great answer is because we, the American people, by and large do not drink our wines at appropriate temperatures. Our whites are too cold and our reds are often far too warm.

How did this happen? Let’s take a trip back in time to the middle of the 19th century.

The 19th century was an important time in the history of wine. French wines from Bordeaux and Burgundy were beginning to be recognized as truly world-class outside of the exclusivity of the very, very rich. The Bordeaux Classification of 1855 also happened, which basically declared that all wine was not created equal. This is the period we take many of our wine habits and rituals from, one of them being the temperature at which we serve our wines.

The cellars of castles were underground caverns hewn from rock. They were a perfect place for general storage and an even better place to store wine, because these catacombs were always the same temperature, year-round; they were dug so deep into the earth that the air in never got far above 60 degrees Fahrenheit. It just so happens that 55-60 degrees Fahrenheit is exactly the appropriate temperature for long-term wine storage.

Because there was no refrigeration, 55 degrees was as cold as the serving temperature ever got for wine. So when a white wine was served “cold,” it was actually served at cellar temperature, not at the arctic depths we serve our whites at today.

On the other hand, there was also no central heat in the massive castles and estates of the day. There may have been a fireplace or two, but dining halls tended to be colder and draftier than we are used to. When a red wine was served, it was brought up to room temperature, and because the rooms were cooler, room temperature was rarely above 70 degrees Fahrenheit.

Think about some of the hot and stuffy rooms you’ve served your merlot or cabernet sauvignon in—the temperature in those rooms probably topped out at above 80 degrees Fahrenheit. It’s no wonder that red wine is “too heavy” for some people.

My rule of thumb for all wine is: hug the middle. For whites, take them out of the fridge 20 minutes before serving. For reds, put them in the fridge for 10 minutes before serving. Try this at your next get-together and I guarantee you’ll have a more pleasurable wine drinking experience!

Follow Josh on Twitter: @joshperilo.