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.

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.

Photo by Shawn Hoke

By Paul Bisceglio

Never fear, New York. In the words of McSorley’s Old Ale House’s facebook page, the city’s oldest continually operated saloon “aint going anywhere.”

Rumor spread on Monday that McSorley’s was on its way out when Jeremiah’s Vanishing New York posted the following report from an artist friend who went to the 7th St. alehouse to photograph it:

“There were about 4 or 5 guys out front in a group and one off to the side. The guy to the side asked me why I was taking photos of the place. He said that he was the owner of the building and had been trying hard to sell the place. Said he was tired of the city and wanted to move up to Albany.”

Jeremiah Moss, who runs the blog, posted the story on the McSorley’s Old Ale House facebook page with the note “Say it ain’t so.” To the relief of the alehouse’s many devotees, McSorley’s responded that it wasn’t.

McSorley’s “liked” Moss’s post and wrote, “No worries. We, and especially Matty [owner Matthew Maher], aint going anywhere. Especially not to Albany.

McSorley’s has been a downtown staple since 1854, and its old-timey charm, celebrity patrons and unique history have inspired works by numerous artists and writers, including the poem “I was sitting in mcsorleys” by E. E. Cummings, the painting “McSorely’s Bar” by John Sloan and several New Yorker articles by Joseph Mitchell.

Vanishing New York noted that the alehouse’s closure would not have been entirely unexpected. McSorley’s has wrestled with city regulations in recent years that banned its resident cat and forced them to clear dust off the delicate wishbones that hang above its bar.

Who the person actually was who said that McSorley’s was being sold and why he said it has yet to be uncovered. Stay tuned for details.