It wasn’t all that long ago that I had to beg people to try wine from South America. I almost felt like a snake oil salesman giving them a spiel that, in the end, I always worried would overhype their expectations.

But it never did, and the reason was twofold: 1) South American wines are delicious and 2) South American wines are, by and large, cheap.

South America has been one of the rising stars of the wine world for the last two decades. Unlike Australia, however, the prices of most South American wines have not risen significantly. Chilean merlots began showing up in North American wine stores decades ago, and they remain bargains, while ultra-expensive wines like Australia’s Australis are becoming more and more common.

Even more of a Mecca for bargain vino than Chile, however, is Argentina. Many international grapes like chardonnay and sauvignon blanc thrive there, especially on the sunny, fertile plateau of the Mendoza area. These grapes, which were originally grown to produce California-style wines are now coming into their own, and an Argentinean chardonnay now tastes like…well…an Argentinean chardonnay. Softer and riper, with tropical fruit flavors, the white wines of Argentina are a sure bet when you need something refreshing and inexpensive.

As far as reds are concerned, however, one grape rises above them all in Argentina: malbec. It has traveled a long way to get to where it is now considered king, however. A hundred years ago, malbec was used much more prominently in the blending of red Bordeaux wines. While it is still legal to use small amounts of malbec in Bordeaux, it is very rarely done. At the same time, south of Bordeaux in the Cahors region, malbec was being blended with the rustic tannat grape to make the namesake “black wine” of that area. Once it traveled across the Atlantic to Argentina, the grape took on a softer, less tannic, riper flavor profile.

The typical Argentinean malbec can be anywhere from medium to full bodied, but it will always have dark fruit up front and a little spice on the finish. Not as jammy as a warm-climate syrah or shiraz, spicier than merlot and less tannic than cabernet sauvignon, it has a character all its own.

A great place to start, if you’re a first-timer with malbec, is simple and inexpensive. Enrique Foster Ique Malbec 2010 ($10.33 at Park Avenue Liquor, 292 Madison Ave., betw. 40th and 41st Sts., 212-685-2442) is a fantastic basic malbec that won’t throw your palate or pocketbook for a loop. On the lighter side of the grape, it starts with ripe cherry and plum fruit. The finish balances out the fruitiness with notes of cinnamon and pipe tobacco. It’s great all by itself, but it’s even better with a chicken empanada.

The malbec grape has a dark side to it, as I mentioned before, even in sunny Argentina. When allowed to ripen to its fullest and spend time in oak to mature, you can wind up with a serious wine that has bigger and bolder flavors. The Punto Final Malbec 2010 ($12.95 at Sherry-Lehmann., 505 Park Ave., betw. 59th and 60th Sts., 212-838-7500, sherry-lehmann.com) is darker and more muscular than the Ique. With baked fruit flavors of black currant and blueberry, the intensity follows through the middle with smoky notes and finishes with a hefty dollop of black pepper and vanilla. While there’s a lot of fruit up front on this wine, it definitely fares better with food—preferably something grilled that was, at one point, attached to a mooing animal.

If you’re entertaining and you want to share your South American find with your friends and family, the Astica Malbec 2010 ($12.99 at 67 Wine and Spirits, 179 Columbus Ave., at 68th St., 212-724-6767, 67wine.com) comes in a party-friendly magnum. Remarkably full on flavor for the low price point, this malbec has the signature dark berry-driven fruit up front and zing of spice on the finish, but with a slightly less smoky oak.

For a grape that once played second fiddle in Bordeaux, this storied berry needs absolutely no help being delicious and inexpensive south of the equator.

Follow Josh on Twitter: @joshperilo.

And some things don’t go together at all.

My friend Ben sat across from me at our favorite Thai restaurant. He went with his whim and ordered a glass of a Napa Valley cabernet sauvignon with his green curry chicken. I reserved any comment as he followed his first bite of food with a large gulp of wine. There was no need for me to say anything. The look on his face spoke for itself. After four or five more bites and sips, he finally pushed the glass of wine away from him, glaring at me with a stank-faced scowl.

“I figured that cab wasn’t going to work well with that curry.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” he huffed.

“Drink what you like!”

“Well, I don’t like this!”

The thing about spicy food and wine isn’t so much “what should I drink?” as “what shouldn’t I drink?” The first thing to avoid is a red wine that is high in tannin. Tannin is the chemical that gives you that distinctive mouth drying effect after swallowing. While this is great for balance when you are eating something that has a high fat content, with spicy food it just makes the wine taste abrasive and smashes any lighter, more nuanced flavors in the food.

Something else to think about when matching wines with spicy fare is alcohol content. The higher the alcohol in the wine, the hotter the finish is going to be. When the heat from the food combines with the heat from the alcohol, it’s one time when two flavors don’t cancel each other out. You won’t taste anything but fire.

Wines that are heavily oaked don’t tend to fare all that well with hot and spicy food, either. Oak is a flavor that matches well with subtler, creamier foods. With two big, bold flavors that have little in common battling it out on your tastebuds, all you’re going to get is a garbled mess and a discombobulated palate.

That being said, there are some easy go-tos to remember if you’re stuck making the big vino decision for the table. For my friend’s Thai quandary, I would have recommended a gewürztraminer. This grape has its roots in Germany and the Alsace region of France but is now being grown everywhere. Usually fermented leaving a touch of sweetness, this grape produces wines with complex floral and lychee notes, accenting the complex flavors of Thai cooking perfectly. The 2008 Chateau St. Michelle Gewürztraminer ($10 at Astor Wines, 399 Lafayette St., at E. 4th St., 212-674-7500, astorwines.com) from the Columbia Valley in Washington is a great example.

American Mexican food tends to go spicy, often using tomato as a base. It’s good to match that acidity with a little acidity in the wine, as well. A New Zealand pinot noir like the 2007 Brancott Vineyards Pinot Noir ($21.99 at K&D Wines and Spirits, 1366 Madison Ave. betw. 95th & 96th Sts., 212-289-1818, kdwine.com) is light enough on tannin that it won’t mess with the spice, but sports a refreshing tang that will mingle well with any tomato involved.

The Korean delicacy (and maybe my favorite condiment of all time) kimchi is tricky to match with a wine. One of the few things I’ve tried that really works is Portugal’s vinho verde. It is crisp, low in alcohol and slightly fizzy and acts as the perfect foil to the intense and bold flavors of kimchi. A great example of this light, fun wine is 2009 Casal Garcia Vinho Verde Branco ($9.99 at Yorkshire Wines and Spirits, 1646 1st Ave., at 85th St., 212-717-5100, yorkshirewines.com)

My friend ended up dropping an extra ten-spot on a glass of gewürztraminer in order to salvage his meal. It’s so rare that I’m right about anything that I just sat back and enjoyed the hot and spicy victory.

“Oh, a little of this,” I said, staring at my shoes, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed, “A little of that.”

“Like what? What’s one of the things you get paid to write about?”

“Wine.”

My single-word answer was followed by an unconscious frown from the gentleman I had just met. Indeed, he now knew all he needed to know about me, and he excused himself to grab another drink.

“It’s going to be a beer,” he sneered as he walked off. “Hope you don’t think less of me for that!”

I don’t blame the guy. I hate wine writers, too. We’re smug and arrogant and we assume that we know more than regular guys. The only thing my so-called wine knowledge has really got me is a handful of trivia answers about vinification and European geography.

I have always said, and I maintain, that the most important idea behind wine appreciation is “know what you like.” The more you drink, the more you know, and the more you know, the more you know what it is exactly that you like. All of the fancy-shmancy wine talk in the world can’t convince anyone that a crappy wine is anything other than a crappy wine.

So today I would like to feature the seven stupidest descriptors that wine writers use when describing the fermented juice. If I can encourage just one oenophile to refrain from using even one of these words, I feel this column will have served the greater good.

Barnyardy. Mmm, nothing like the smell of horse manure, rotting hay and moldy barn wood to whet the appetite for a tasty red from the south of France. Believe it or not, this is meant to be a compliment for a fuller-bodied, rustic wine, like those that come from the area of Cahors. But, honestly, the idea of it kind of makes one want to throw up in one’s mouth.

Foursquare. In case you were wondering, no, your bottle of wine has not decided to check in at the local Irish Pub on its smart phone. This meaning of foursquare is the one that Webster’s College Dictionary defines as “marked by boldness and conviction.” Oh, you mean “bold”? This snotty adjective was popularized by the king of snotty wine adjectives, Robert Parker Jr.

Pencil Shavings. While we’re bashing Mr. Parker, let’s address the No. 1 confounding “positive” descriptor that he uses when talking about older Bordeaux. Perhaps he had some kind of unnatural graphite fetish when he was in middle school, but for the majority of us, a good bottle does not remind one of sucking on a No. 2.

Biscuity. I know that there are droves of sommeliers who will disagree with me, but I have never sniffed a sparkling wine that I thought smelled like a biscuit. Yeasty, perhaps. Doughy or bready, sure, but KFC or Popeyes have never crossed my mind. And if we’re talking about biscuits as in cookies, then just say cookies. We’re not in bloody England.

Playful. Wines are not playful. I’ve never had the occasion to toss a ball back and forth with a pinot noir, nor have I engaged in a game of disc golf with a sauternes. This adjective is a cop-out for a wine writer with a crappy palate. It means “this wine is light and people tell me it’s good, but I don’t really get it.”

Quince. Now I will concede that this adjective is incredibly accurate for describing some wines. There are a handful of whites from specific areas that definitely have the taste of quince, but let me pose this question: When was the last time you ate quince? Using it to describe a wine is like telling a normal person (anyone who hasn’t had quince in the last five years) that the wine is too sophisticated for their palate.

Pipi du Chat. ‘Nuff said.

I will admit that I am guilty of using these descriptors from time to time. But hopefully now that we’ve admitted that the emperor has no clothes, we can all sip with a little less apprehension.

Follow Josh on Twitter: @joshperilo.

I want to get it out on the table: I am just as confused as any of you are by many of the popular trends in wine today. And it isn’t just the often hilarious terminology (I could write an entire post on that), it’s the absolutism and lack of gray areas that seem to prevail in the wine community’s opinions on certain things.

It seems that once a high-profile wine professional has decided that he or she likes or doesn’t like something, the rest of the wine community follows like lemmings off a cliff. It is this very behavior that has turned me into a difficult, fussy contrarian.

I don’t set out to be difficult (though my wife may beg to differ, especially while we are watching TV). But for some reason, whenever there’s a consensus about one popular thing being plunked down into a solid “good” or “bad” category, it immediately raises red flags for me and I’ll usually take the opposite position, just to try and even the score.

Now, I will be the first to admit that I am not immediately drawn to a chardonnay that has been either fermented or aged excessively in oak. This was a style that caught on in the late ’70s and grew in popularity through the ’80s, until the market was saturated with this style of chard in the ’90s. Then came the backlash.

It started with wine geeks who, rightfully, hated the cheaply made, “oaky” chards that tasted like a stick of butter nailed to a two-by-four. These wines were often not even made using oak barrels, which are very expensive. Instead, oak chips were (and still are) dumped into a stainless steel vat of wine to add oaky tones. Sometimes, even sawdust is used.

These are terrible wines. You will get no argument from me about that.

However, there has been a hysteria over the last decade or so about chardonnays that have any oak flavor at all. Any use of oak is looked down upon and thought of as bourgeois. This is an incredibly ignorant point of view that has, unfortunately, become the norm now in the oversaturated world of faux wine connoisseurs.

Oak is good. Oak can be amazing, actually. It takes more talent to use oak correctly in winemaking than to not use it at all. When done the right way, the end product is breathtaking.

For a tremendous example of what the new world can offer along the lines of well-made, oak-laden chardonnays, look to Arcadian Vineyard “Sleepy Hollow” Chardonnay 2006 ($36.99 at Astor Wines, 399 Lafayette St., at E. 4th St., 212-674-7500, astorwines.com) from California’s Central Coast. This wine is both fermented and aged in French oak barrels. The result isn’t an over-the-top, wet particle board smackdown; instead, it starts on the nose with ripe oranges and notes of French bread. On the palate, the super-ripe citrus continues with pineapple through the middle. The end has flavors of honey, white pepper and even a hint of caramel. This vino is a meal all by itself, but would be the ultimate match-up for lobster and drawn butter.

The old world has plenty of good, oaky chardonnay to bring to the table, as well. The Chateau Fuissé Pouilly-Fuissé “Les Brûlés” 2007 ($60 at Sherry-Lehmann, 505 Park Ave., at 59th St., 212-838-7500, sherry-lehmann.com) from Burgundy is a touch lighter, but no less intense. There are massive amounts of ginger and crème brûlée scents. The palate is all about vanilla, white peach and spice. The finish has hints of cinnamon, allspice and quince. This wine is a masterpiece.

So, break off from the mob and open your mind. Try tasting a truly great wine that is made, if not to please the masses, at least those for who appreciate expert craftsmanship.

Follow Josh on Twitter: @joshperilo.

Obsessing over the uniquely Italian wine

It goes without saying that Italy is a wine-obsessed country. It makes perfect sense that they are; every area of Italy is a wine-producing region. Every single one. And it’s all, for the most part, really great.

In addition to the culture being centered around wine, there is a “waste not want not” attitude that the country’s winemakers have toward the grapes themselves. Nothing goes to waste in the winemaking process. And that is, more or less, where grappa comes from.

Grappa can start fights. You either love it or hate it. I love it. My wife hates it. Anytime we’re out at a nice Italian restaurant, I make a point of having a glass at the end of the meal, while my wife enjoys a glass of limoncello.

While I love grappa, I certainly understand why some people don’t. It is, most definitely, an acquired taste. But those who drink it don’t merely like it. They obsess over it. Those who are truly fanatical are called tifosi di grappa, which literally means “I have a fever for grappa.”

Grappa was made, originally, out of necessity. After a wine is made, there is a tremendous amount of waste. All of the skins and seeds (and sometimes even stems) are left over in the fermentation tank after the wine has been either bottled or put into barrels. At some point, an ingenious Italian winemaker decided that it was a bad idea to keep throwing all of this stuff out. So he decided to make something out of it.

By pressing the leftovers (the pomace), a liquid is obtained that is then distilled. This results in a very pure, very clear liquid that is much higher in alcohol than any wine. Because it takes so much to make so little, it is also very expensive. That exclusivity and uniqueness is celebrated in the bottles that are made to hold the liquor. Often long, thin, hand-blown glass bottles, the containers are as much a work of art as the stuff inside.

Grappa had a bad rap for a long time, though. Up until the 1990s, most of the grappa imported into the United States was made from a mixture of many different types of grape pomace. This made a liquor that was, at best, often strong and peppery. At its worst, it was a bit like drinking lighter fluid.

Real grappa drinkers knew that the best grappa is made from single varietals, though. Just like the wine made from those grapes, that grappa would vary in flavor and character depending on what it was made from. The fever caught on in the United States, and now it is relatively easy to find great single varietal, or monovitigno, grappa.

My favorite type of grappa is grappa di moscato, made from the pomace of the moscato grape. One of the best available in the states is the Marolo Grappa di Moscato ($8.99 at K&D Wines, 1366 Madison Ave., at 96th St., 212-289-1818). The harshness of the distillation process is balanced by the natural mildness of the moscato grape. You can taste the sweet, floral quality of the varietal and even get a hint of the signature peach and nectarine flavors present in many great moscato wines.

If, however, you are bolder and your tastes run more on the adventurous side (or you just have something to prove), try the Bertagnolli Grappa di Amarone ($36.99 at 67 Wine and Spirits, 179 Columbus Ave., at 68th St., 212-724-6767). Amarone wine is made from grapes that are dried before pressing, so it goes without saying that whatever is left over from those already shriveled grapes is going to be strong, indeed. While the grappa has some of the characteristics of an amarone (dried fruit flavors and hints of coffee and chocolate), the main event is the peppery mouthfeel and the…shall we say…“warming” finish.

Whatever your tastes are, give grappa a try before you dismiss it completely. You might be pleasantly surprised.
Follow Josh on Twitter: @joshperilo.

The farmer’s market around the corner from our apartment is a humble one, to be sure. Unlike the Union Square market, our outpost is only open from mid-spring to early fall. But the produce they bring in is out of this world. In the summer, I switch from heavier fare that has me slaving over the stove for hours to lighter, vegetable-based dishes. The less our oven stays on, the cooler our apartment is. Besides that, vegetables, to me, are the flavor of warm weather.

So I must switch to drinking sangria and beer come summer, right? Wrong! Although many people are frightened by the prospect of matching vegetables with wines, it’s really a natural pairing. If you think about it, the grapes used to make the wine and the vegetables you are cooking (or not cooking) have more in common than a cabernet and a sirloin steak. You might be surprised what some of the great match-ups are.

One of my favorite things to make when entertaining in the summer is an easy asparagus side dish that is great served at room temperature. Using about a pound of trimmed asparagus, I heat two or three tablespoons of olive oil in a sauté pan on low heat with five thinly sliced garlic cloves. After the oil has heated the garlic through, I add four or five roughly chopped sun-dried tomatoes. Once the mixture has cooked for five minutes, I bump the heat up to medium high and add the asparagus, cooking for another five to seven minutes.

This is amazing with a New Zealand sauvignon blanc like the  ($18.99 at Elite Wine, 558 3rd Ave. at 37th Street, 646-658-7548). The crisp, citrusy flavors of the wine compliment the green, grassy flavors of the asparagus perfectly.

Vegetarian cuisine doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll walk away from the table hungry. If you want something hearty that will stick to your ribs, a ratatouille is the perfect summer stew. Start by sautéing a chopped onion, four minced garlic cloves and a diced zucchini in a medium pot with olive oil. After everything has softened and you’ve flavored the mixture with salt and pepper, add a can of crushed tomatoes and a handful of chopped Kalamata olives. Let it simmer for a half hour and match it with a pinot noir like the Cooper Hill Pinot Noir 2010 from the Willamette Valley in Oregon ($20.99 at 67 Wine and Spirits, 179 Columbus Ave. at 68th St., 212-724-6767). The acidity from the tomatoes and the natural acidity of the grape will cancel each other out and point up the fruity qualities of the wine and the richness of the ratatouille.

The perfect summer pasta dish is always primavera in my book. Mine always starts with sautéing six garlic cloves and a tablespoon of red pepper flakes in olive oil over low heat. After that has steeped, I add chopped summer squash and roughly chopped artichoke hearts. While I’m boiling the pasta, I turn up the heat and add purple cauliflower florets, broccoli rabe and a little salt and finish the dish by throwing in the pasta and adding a handful of grated pecorino off the heat.

This deserves a wine with a lot of fruit and personality, like the Cline Viognier 2009 ($13.99 at Beacon Wines and Spirits, 2120 Broadway at 74th St., 212-877-0028). The richness and slight fruitiness of the pecorino matches amazingly with the full-throttle tropical fruit in the viognier.

You don’t have to give up the meat completely for summer. Where would this great country be without hot dogs and hamburgers grilling on the coals? But if you decide to lighten up and turn down the heat in your kitchen, you’ll still have plenty of drink options besides a watery beer with lime.

Follow Josh on Twitter: @joshperilo.

Jewish wines that are delicious and complex do exist

Passover has come and gone already this year, but if there’s one question that I get more than any other from my fellow Jews, it is this: “Why is kosher wine so bad?”

It could almost be added as the fifth question in the Passover haggadah.

Wine is a central part of Jewish culture. It is prayed over during the weekly Shabbat, drunk under the chuppa during the exchange of vows, and sipped with relish during many festivals. It would stand to reason that, given how much vino we are required to drink, Jews should probably make the best wine there is.

This is, very sadly, far from true.

Well, I am here to Let My People Go …or at least their palates. Kosher wine doesn’t have to taste like the remnants of a Smucker’s grape jelly jar. It can be drinkable and, yes, even delicious and complex.

The fundamental thing to know about kosher wine is that there are two basic types: mevushal, and non-mevushal.  It is usually the mevushal wines that have given kosher wine a bad name. The process of making a mevushal wine entails flash pasteurization. In a nutshell, due to the intricacies of rabbinic laws concerning kosher diet, any wine that is made and handled by a gentile (or a non-Sabbath-observant Jew), cannot be considered kosher. The wine, however, can be “purified” by boiling it. It only need boil for a split second, but boil it must. After that, it can be served by a gentile and still be considered kosher.

This would all be well and good if heat weren’t wine’s number one enemy. Raising the vino’s temperature to that point, even for a split second, drastically changes the flavor of the wine and robs it of most of its unique characteristics. Drink a little bit of this stuff, and your taste buds will feel as repressed as the protagonist of a Philip Roth novel.

Non-mevushal wines, however, are made completely by Sabbath-observant Jews. By doing this, there is no need to “purify” the wine. Strict kosher observant Jews will only allow other Sabbath-observing Jews to serve this wine to them, to avoid breaking kosher law. If you are serving this wine for a Jewish holiday, however, this will most likely not be an issue.

Making non-mevushal wine is much easier to do in Israel, where keeping kosher is not only a way of life, but the norm. And it just so happens that grapes have been grown and wine has been made in Israel for thousands of years.

One of my absolute favorite producers in Israel is Tishbi. Their Tishbi Cabernet Sauvignon / Petite Syrah, 2010 ($11.99 at Crush Wine & Spirits, 153 E. 57th St. btwn. Lexington and 3rd, 212-980-WINE), rivals any Cali-cab I’ve had in the same price range. It has tons of pipe tobacco and leather scents, with big, bold cherry fruit flavors, and the 30 percent Petite Syrah gives it a peppery finish.

If you’re looking for a bold kosher white wine that can hold its own, look no further than Golan Vineyards’ eponymous Golan Chardonnay, 2010 ($15.99 at Beacon Wines & Spirits, 2120 Broadway btwn. 74th and 75th Sts., 646-213-0776). This is a no-nonsense chardonnay with just enough spice, vanilla and tropical fruit flavors. For those who love the unctuous mouth-feel of Napa style chardonnay, you will absolutely fall in love with the flavor profile on this great white.

For something sweet and light to finish off any Jewish celebration, try Dalton’s Sweet Muscato, 2010 ($12.99 at www.hudsonvalleywinesandliquors.com). From the Galilee area of Israel, Dalton’s slightly fizzy Muscato shows that kosher wine can be sweet and interesting at the same time.  Ripe peach, tangerine and honey flavors are balanced by an effervescence that keeps the sweetness from being overbearing.

Above all, always make sure to check that the wine you are buying is a non-mevushal.  Many producers make both mevushal and non-mevushal versions of their products. While this is by no means an epicurean stamp of approval across the board, it will at least ensure that it hasn’t been boiled.

Now, if we can just do something about that gefilte fish.

Follow Josh on Twitter: @joshperilo.

We’re in that weird period now in New York City weather; it isn’t cold, but it isn’t hot. In most areas of the country, the weather professionals would refer to this as “spring.” That season, however, does not exist in New York City. Instead, we have an odd handful of weeks that swing wildly from the upper 80s to the lower 60s, sometimes within the same 24-hour period.

This is the time when I start seeing white wines fly off the shelf with a little more regularity. I, however, hold off on drinking whites for a bit longer. It isn’t that I have some kind of “no white after Labor Day”-type rule for my booze—I just want to hold onto my red wine as long as I can.

The reds I drink at this time of year do tend to be a bit lighter, though. I have some friends who have a sensitivity to tartrates (a chemical that is present in a higher concentration in white wine than in red wine), so they drink these lighter reds throughout the summer.

So for those of you out there who aren’t ready to make the full transition to white wine yet, like myself, or for those who may have an adverse reaction to white wine, I would like to offer a selection of red wines on the lighter side. They are just as refreshing poolside as any New Zealand sauvignon blanc or Northern Italian pinot grigio.

Many light reds benefit from being served under room temperature, or slightly chilled, and the one I’m starting with is no exception. I can’t recommend the Gelsomina Lambrusco 2010 ($10.49 at Red, White and Bubbly, 211 5th Ave., at Union St., Brooklyn, 718-636-9463) enough. In the ’70s and early ’80s, lambrusco became synonymous with the brand Riunite and the bubbly, sweet garbage they peddled. In truth, most really good lambrusco is actually fermented to near, if not complete, dryness. It is slightly fizzy, and is drunk in the Emilia-Romagna area of Italy like Coca-Cola.

As I mentioned before, it is best when served slightly chilled. The Gelsomina bursts with ripe, black cherry aromas and more sour cherry and blackberry jam flavors on the palate. You won’t need anything to pair this with to enjoy it to its fullest extent…but if you must eat, it’s the perfect pairing for a roasted veggie panini.

Moving slightly closer to room temp, the Domaine Chassagne Morgon Cotes de Ruillieres Beaujolais 2011 ($17.00 at Park Avenue Liquor, 292 Madison Ave., betw. 40th & 41st Sts., 212-685-2442) is a go-to summer sipper. Another area for wine that has been marred by cheaply made product, Beaujolais has suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous winemaking for decades.

The swill that washes ashore each November for “Nouveau Week” is almost always terrible, tasting like barely fermented grape juice. Because of this, Beaujolais is one of the most underappreciated regions of French winemaking. Situated at the southern tip of Burgundy, its wine is made exclusively from the super-fruity Gamay grape. The Chassagne is an excellent example of how this underdog can soar, with ripe strawberry and raspberry notes that make this a great red to match with salads and other light summer fare. Be sure to serve it under room temperature, but not cold.

Proving that not all summer reds need time in the icebox, the Zaccagnini Montepulciano d’Abruzzo Riserva 2010 ($15.99 at 67 Wine and Spirits, 179 Columbus Ave., at 68th St., 212-724-6767) does just fine right at room temperature. From the middle of Italy’s East Coast, the Montepulciano is and always will be my No. 1 wine pick for margherita pizza. Its slight acidity balances the acidity of the tomato sauce, and the fruity flavors of blackcurrant and cherry preserves cut right through the fresh mozzarella of any pie.

So the next time you arrive at your friend’s rooftop soiree, bring a bottle of red instead. You never know who might be in the mood for red, or who may not be able to drink white wine. You’ll probably make a friend or two in the process, as well!

Follow Josh on Twitter: @joshperilo.

We walked, Natali, our Yorkie Phin and I, down Prospect Park West after a sunny and relaxing day watching kite flyers and picnickers. As we cleared the corner and started toward 7th, where our car was parked, a familiar smell wafted through the air; a smell that I had almost forgotten existed, having been born in the Midwest and moved to New York.

“That’s a smoker,” I said, licking my lips.

“I think it’s a fireplace,” corrected my wife.

“Nope,” I smiled, nodding. “That’s definitely a smoker.”

I tipped my imaginary hat to the person or persons illegally smoking meat in their backyard and officially clicked my internal clock from winter to summer.

While you can, obviously, smoke meat at any time of year, there is something unmistakably summery about the smell of barbecue. And now, with so many decent barbecue joints here in the city, there’s no reason to leave it to the Midwest and the South.

Now, for a wine to match!

“Wine,” you say. “Wouldn’t you rather have a beer with your ribs?”

Actually, no. I have never understood why beer is so inexorably linked to barbecue. Barbecue is heavy, so what sense does it make to drink something that is, itself, also heavy? In addition to the fullness factor, there are so many red wines that have flavor notes that are so perfectly matched to those in barbecue that it seems a crime not to pair them together.

So let me offer you a couple of wines to pair with a couple different types of regional barbecue (all available at many different places throughout the five boroughs).

Let’s start with a Kansas City-style burnt ends sandwich. This is a smoky beef brisket sandwich slathered in piquant sauce. I can think of no better match up for this behemoth than the Seghesio Zinfandel Sonoma County 2010 ($28.99 at Beacon Wines and Spirits, 2120 Broadway, at 74th St, 212-877-0028). It starts with ripe plum fruit notes and finishes bold with pepper, clove and cinnamon flavors that do battle nicely with any piece of smoked beef you can throw its way.

If you are feasting on the very different, but equally tasty, North Carolina-style pulled pork, you are eating a sauce that is not tomato-based but is, instead, vinegar-based. While vinegar can be a bit of a challenge to match wine with, a perfect flavor pairing for this lighter style of barbecue would be the Willm Riesling Reserve 2011 ($11.95 at Sherry-Lehmann, 505 Park Ave., at 59th Street, 212-838-7500). You heard me right: I am recommending a white wine with barbecued pork.

While Alsatian-style rieslings tend to be a touch less sweet than their German cousins, this particular wine still maintains a touch of residual sugar on the finish. The sweetness will counter the spiciness of the marinade, but the natural acidity of the riesling grape will actually cancel out the overly sour qualities of the vinegar in the sandwich. The pork will taste richer and the smokiness of the sandwich will become the main event.

In St. Louis, it is pork ribs braised in a sweeter sauce that are then returned to the grill that take center stage. I am going to recommend something that may sound crazy, but if you try it, you too will be a convert. Fonseca Ruby Port ($18.99 at PJ Wine, 4898 Broadway, betw. 204th and 207th streets, 212-567-5500) is an unusual but mind-blowing match-up for these sticky, caramelized ribs.

The sweetness from both the port and the ribs will cancel each other out, and you will taste the subtler flavors of the smoky meat and the fruitiness of the port in a way that is impossible should you taste the two independent of one another. Let us also remember that port is a red wine and, like all red wine, has tannins. The tannins will cut through the fattiness of the ribs and make them even more succulent than they were before.

So the next time you hit your favorite barbecue joint here in the city or elsewhere, check out the wine list before you fill up on suds!

Follow Josh on Twitter: @joshperilo.

Follow Josh on Twitter: @joshperilo.