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.

Owner and self-taught baker Denise Cumming, armed with her family recipes, wanted to create delicious desserts for people with celiac disease, a digestive disorder that makes people unable to tolerate gluten, a protein found in wheat, rye and barley—and most regular baked goods.

“When my mom started to change her recipes to be gluten-free, every time we came home from school they would taste better and better. Now, I can’t tell the difference,” said Drew Cumming, Denise’s son, who assists his mom in the bakery when he is home from college.

When the Cumming family discovered their youngest child, Olivia, had celiac disease, they went through the difficult process of altering their diet. “It is a lifestyle change. We had to transform everything around us,” Denise Cumming said. “My daughter is very sensitive. Any contact with gluten would immediately make her feel sick.”

Since 2007, the family has adapted to the new lifestyle and eventually neither of the kids could taste a difference in their mom’s cooking. “That’s when I thought about opening a bakery,” Cumming said. “I knew I was moving to New York with my husband, my kids were away for college, and I thought I could make my hobby of baking into something bigger.”

Inspired by Olivia, Pip’s Place, at 1729-21 1st Ave., near East 90th Street, has been open for only two months but has already served 10,000 people. “It’s been bigger than I ever thought it could be,” said Cumming, though it requires complete dedication. Cumming opens the store at 7 a.m. and stays until 8 p.m. Monday through Sunday. Now, with the full-time help of her husband and a growing love for her regulars, Denise said she would eventually like to open a second Pip’s in another neighborhood.

The bakery offers cookies, cakes, muffins and bread. “I tried the recipe over 20 times before it actually came out the way I wanted,” Cumming said, proudly hoisting a loaf of bread. Her hope is to start selling gluten-free bread daily and to deliver to the people who want it and don’t live in her neighborhood, which she has come to adore. “I love it here. Everybody has been so nice. The fruit guy brings me bananas; other business owners come by just to wish me good luck. I couldn’t have hoped for more.”

But not everything is perfect. Some customers have asked Cumming to make her sweets for people with other types of food allergies. “These are my grandmother’s recipes; I do my best to make them gluten-free, but certain types of ingredients need to be there,” she said. “Pip’s is a gluten-free bakery. I am also offering some muffins dairy-free, but I cannot make too many changes.”

As the bakery’s popularity grows and Cumming begins to hire more staff, Pip’s is already full of regulars. Sonia Coletta, a real estate agent who lives in the neighborhood, said she loves the baked goods from Pip’s. “I buy it and I give it to my co-workers. They have great little boxes and it makes a great gift,” Coletta said. “I’m not gluten intolerant, but as I walk home, instead of stopping by at Starbucks I just come here. It is much nicer.”

While many applauded Mayor Bloomberg’s implementation of the restaurant letter grading system to bring transparency to a Byzantine health inspection process, it’s never held much sway for me; everyone knows the best restaurants are the ones most likely to inspire, at best, a grudging C grade and a passing glare from daintier patrons. Torn linoleum and stained Formica tabletops are tangible evidence a place has been frequented and loved by hundreds of regulars over time. Clean floors means the mom-and-pop staff have the time to spend their days mopping rather than churning out dishes for a steady stream of demanding, knowledgeable patrons. Got the time and money to install eight different sinks to satisfy those sanitation requirements? You’re either adding that extra buck to my bill or taking it out in low-quality ingredients.

Shanghai Café’s (100 Mott St., shanghaicafenyc.com) A grade, gleaming interior, groovy recessed neon lighting and polished dark wood booths should have scared me away faster than any laundry list of violations. Here, it seems, is a place you could safely take your local health inspector on a date.

Just don’t let him see the Kau Fu, off the cold appetizer list, a mound of ragged chunks of wheat gluten studded with black mushrooms, an abomination in brown that would look more at home in a subway grate than on your table. It’s delicious—brightly savory, the gluten that wonderfully dense texture of a meat substitute that’s not been forced to masquerade as “chicken”—but best left for more forgiving company. Wait till he’s out of sight, then order a dish of this and the pig ear, soy-marinated and sliced into thin, crunchy strips, and bask in the sidelong glances of disbelief you get from your fellow diners.

But back to your date. Lucky for you, much of Shanghainese cuisine is accessibly self-explanatory. Of course there’s xiao long bao, soup dumplings—the waiters are trained, in fact, to check all tables that somehow overlook them when ordering. “You want soup dumplings,” they say, more an instruction than a question. You should—they’re one of the best renditions of this classic in Chinatown, with skins that are acceptably thin but not puncture-prone and a rich, briny broth—but if you don’t, they won’t press the issue.

Shanghai rice cakes are slices of the world’s thickest rice noodle sautéed up with chicken, pork, shrimp and that holy trinity of Chinatown vegetable, onion, cabbage and carrot, in a savory brown sauce that doesn’t reek of white-guy takeout and despair. If he insists on it, rest assured you’ll actually find some flavor there.

Now that your friend is happy, get yourself something from the house specialties lists, traditional, harder-to-find dishes that are segregated from the rest of the menu. These are provided in rudimentary English, the translation an uncommon courtesy for most regionalized restaurants, which means that anyone willing to take a chance won’t be punished by the point-and-pray roulette gods that can bring some real gems or some unpleasant surprises.

Braised pork belly is everything you’d hope it would be, red-cooked to the point of melted, the tender meat just barely maintaining its shape, waiting for the touch of a chopstick to dissolve into shreds. Bean curd skin with preserved vegetable and green bean turned out to be flat, tagliatelle-like ribbons of chewy bean curd tossed with faintly salted greens and edamame. It’s an unexpectedly light, fresh preparation, and a daintily plated version could easily be passed off as the latest in Sino-Italian fusion in a Lower East Side hotspot.

Though the approachable grade and décor draw a decent stream of the tourist crowd, the dining room is invariably bolstered by great round tables of middle-aged men ribbing each other and passing cauldrons of fish head casserole, regulars who would be just as happy in Formica and linoleum. And if you look closely there, on the counter at the register, tucked between the toothpick dispenser and a plastic bonsai tree, a lone Siamese fighting fish floats belly up in his glass bowl. Finally, there’s that C grade spirit! Just don’t tell your date.

Luckily, there’s something about the sweltering summer months that foments revolution around the world; July and August are awash with national independence celebrations from all four corners. Let’s be honest: American patriotism is pretty easy to come by any day of the week, but when was the last time you got a chance to celebrate with some diehard Jamaicans? French? Here are a few other independence days coming up this month, and how to make the most of them.

Bastille Day celebrates one of the most iconic, if less than immediately successful, fights for independence in modern history—and the chicest by a long shot. French revolutionaries were distinguished by their rejection of all things aristocratic, including their clothes, and citoyennes (female revolutionaries) went corsetless while men were identified as sans-culottes, for their rejection of fancy breeches for Regular Joe pants. And while clamoring for a crust of bread sounds grim, it becomes a lot more understandable when you remember they were after perfectly crusty baguettes—maybe with a little Camembert to go with?

Celebrate the French way of life at the French Institute Alliance Francais’ annual block party on Sunday, July 15 from 12-5 p.m., on 60th Street from Lexington to Fifth Avenue. The city’s premier Bastille Day party, it’s guaranteed to have to most genuine French people—but may also have the most mimes. Buy a $20 all-access pass to the wine, cheese and cocktail tastings, and maybe by the time the roving mime makes her way to you, you’ll be willing to play along when she gets trapped in that darned box.

Jamaican independence was gained from the United Kingdom in 1962, after a slow, civilized process of governmental reform (take that, France!). The country still retains the British monarchy, and the head of state is technically the queen’s governor general, but all the power is wielded by the prime minister—just think of it as a Caribbean Canada, but with better music.

This year marks the 50th anniversary of the celebration, which means the normally ebullient festival is going into overdrive. The country itself is celebrating for an entire year—you’ve still got a few months to book a trip to experience the real thing—but in New York City, it’s a day of music, food, awards and cultural presentations in Roberto Clemente Park in the Bronx on Aug. 4 (go to www.jamaica50anniversary.com for tickets). The city’s entire Jamaican community will be at the star-studded party, hosted by the “Jamaican King of Comedy” Oliver Samuels; mix and mingle while you enjoy roving steel drummers and all the patties, ginger beer and jerk chicken your spice centers can handle.

Peruvian pride is celebrated at the end of July every year to commemorate the country’s victory in its 12-year-long war for independence from Spain. The country had served as a stronghold for Spanish royalists as they fought similar rebellions in neighboring Ecuador and Chile; finally, working-class and rural Peruvians had enough and began fighting the “Lima oligarchy,” as they were known. Now, the party officially lasts for two days, July 28-29, though most focus on the 28, the date victory was actually declared.

It’s celebrated with the country’s iconic food and drink, which just so happen to also be perfect for summer: pisco sours and ceviche. The refreshingly tart cocktail and cool seafood salad are made for enjoying a sultry day; give it a go at Mancora (99 1st Ave., at 6th St., 212-253-1101), where complimentary plantain chips and salsa are the perfect salty-rich counterpoint to all that lime. ¡Viva el Peru!

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.

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.

“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.