Uncorked

Local vintners prove that a rosé is a rosé by any other name, whether it's made in France or the First State. So, snobby oenophile, get over yourself. Try drinking wine the way it was intended.

Pete Pizzadili of Felton refuses to make
or sell wine that is not the product of his
own land and labor. "If you want
California wine," he says, "don't look here.
Here is Delaware. I'm proud of that."

Photograph by Kevin Fleming
www.kevinfleming.com

Uncorked
Local vintners prove that a rosé is a rosé by any other name, whether it's made in France or the First State. So, snobby oenophile, get over yourself. Try drinking wine the way it was intended.

Peggy Raley wants to make history, and she's starting way back at the beginning.

We're in Gallery No. 2 of her winery, Nassau Valley Vineyards, which spreads over eight acres of low hills just south of the Five-Points bridge in Lewes. The vaulted corridor is lighted dimly and floored with the weathered planks of the Rehoboth boardwalk that was destroyed in the nor'easter of '92. Peggy reaches up to one of many dioramas, this one a map of the ancient world, that lead visitors through a self-guided tour. She traces the routes of the early dissemination of wine and viticulture throughout the world.

"It all began here," says Peggy, tapping a region in the far north of Mesopotamia. From there, explains Peggy in a voice that races easily through dates and fact, the Greeks got hold of it and sowed grape seed everywhere, passing it off finally to the Romans.

Peggy worked for les Amis du Vin for years. She knows her wine, and she gets intense when she talks about it, especially its historical, cultural and legal aspects. Her frame, just over 5 feet, straightens, and her blue eyes, conspicuous within the border of her long golden-rod hair, lock with her listener. She works her arms and hands like a Neopolitan talking opera.

This passion about wine and history is all part of Peggy's larger mission to convince folks in Delaware that excellent wine, like excellent produce, is made on the farm just down the road.

For those of you who just snickered, take a moment to consider what's going on out there in the world of wine, a world that is growing much closer to home than many of us ever imagined. And for those of you who just convulsed in indignation, involuntarily spitting your '61 Latour into a Three-Stooges-aerosol cloud, stay with me.

The history of Nassau Valley itself is only recent. Peggy and her dad opened it in 1993, having planted their first vines in 1987. As the vines matured, Peggy took on the Herculean task of changing state beverage control laws, which are notoriously, if unintentionally, hostile toward production of wine. She faced a difficult fight, but the winery was still years from its first harvest.

The problems stemmed from the fact that federal regulations and policies on wine are not managed by the Department of Agriculture, as logic might dictate, but rather by the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms. This relic of Prohibition translates into the partitioning of duties at the state level where, again, policy is designed not to promote, endorse or sponsor an agricultural product, but rather to regulate and control a vice. Some states have rewritten their laws, but most operate under archaic models. To complicate matters further, every state imposes different regulations on interstate shipping.

Delaware's laws were set up specifically to keep producers from selling directly to the public. This tiered system prevented monopolies, but in the case of a small winery, it also made business impossible.

That would have stymied a lot of would-be vintners, but not Peggy. She was ready for a good fight. She's got the pluck of a farm girl and the education, experience and confidence of a sophisticate. All she needed was a few friends in her corner. In 1991 Peggy successfully restructured Delaware laws regarding retail sales. She is still plagued, however, by restrictions on interstate wholesale and shipping.

And there is a larger, more difficult battle: the struggle of overcoming preconceptions about the origins of good wine.

Peggy and I are talking about that challenge in the winery tasting room, a bright, airy space that used to be her dad's tool shed. In glass cases stand bottles draped in ribbons and medals won at wine competitions.

"We're competing on an international playing field, but we can't get recognized here in our own state," says Peggy. "I can't even get the 21-year old manager at the local restaurant down the street to carry our wine because he thinks his customers just won't be interested."

Peggy's voice is rasping a little with frustration, and her arms are stretched out in the air, her palms to the heavens. "I mean, what do we have to do?" she asks.

It does seem daunting, trying to make a splash in the realm of wine by jumping in from Delaware. Why would anyone put herself through it? "I have several large holes in my head," Peggy says.

But the real reason, or at least one of them, is that she wanted to prove a point, that she could make good wine in Delaware and grow a thriving winery.

With the help of her father, her sister Suzette, and winemaker and vineyardist Jesse Pender, she has.

"This area is perfect for growing grapes," says Peggy. The soil gives excellent drainage, and the ocean moderates winter temperatures, which reduces damage to vines. Long Indian summers also lend themselves to ripening, especially in the case of late-harvesting varietals such as Cabernet.

"The only drawback," Peggy says, "is the humidity, which makes diseases like powdery and downy mildew a concern."

One of the first sights a visitor to Nassau Valley catches is a long row of rosebushes that flank the vineyard. Each trellised row of grapevines is capped with a crown of claret colored blooms.

"They're our yellow canaries," Peggy says. "They suffer from many of the same diseases that grapes do. Some days when there's no time to check the whole vineyard, you can just look at the roses. Plus, they're really pretty."

Another way of dealing with humidity is to grow a grape that tolerates it, namely, Chambourcin. The fungus-resistant hybrid is gaining in popularity in the East, and it produces excellent wines. Nassau Valley's Laurel's Red, (100 percent Chambourcin) medaled at the Finger Lakes International Wine Competition in 2006 and 2007.

We wander to the other side of the tasting room, where Suzette is pouring wine for visitors who are enjoying a picnic outside under silver maples that line the drive.

Jesse Pender, a winemaker and vineyardist at
Nassau Valley Vineyards near Lewes, inspects
his product.
Photograph by Kevin Fleming
www.kevinfleming.com

While Peggy runs to the cellar to steal a barrel sample of Nassau Valley's '06 Cabernet Sauvignon, Suzette pours a ros.

A good rosé is rare, and this one rises to that distinction. The color is natural with brilliant clarity, and the bouquet is fragrant with wildflowers. On the palate, the wine opens with delicate fruit, just hinting at sweetness, then lingers with a fine, dry finish.

The '05 Chardonnay shimmers with pineapple tempered by subtle endnotes of oak. The '05 Cab, blended with just a little Merlot and Cabernet Franc, shows finesse and elegance, and offers a great alternative to the sometimes heavy-handed meritage blends pouring out of California.

Peggy arrives back in the tasting room with a glass of the '06 Cab straight from the barrel. "It's still pretty green," she cautions.

Still, the wine shows off bright berries and backbone. The longer it breaths, the more it opens up, shows its luster.

Peggy describes her wines as "honest." Hers is a European style, dry vineyard. She does not irrigate, nor does she manipulate the soil with "chemigation."

"I have nothing to teach our soil," she says. "It has everything to teach me."

She wants a wine to reflect its own past, the season of its making. "We're purveyors of sunshine and rain," she says. "With what other drink can you pull the cork and taste history?"

There again is the idea of history. It's relevant to wine-and to understanding wine's enemy: snobbishness.

"Wine has been the beverage of the common man for 8,000 years," Peggy says, "but snobbishness has kept regular people at arm's length."

To understand this fully, one has to look back to 1919, when the 18th Amendment and the Volstead Act ushered in the era of prohibition. Illegal bathtub gin was much easier to make than illegal wine. The popularity of booze blew up like a bootlegger's still, and thus was born the age of "The Great Gatsby" and the mixed drink. By the time the 21st Amendment repealed the 18th in 1933, the economics of the Great Depression had made high-proof alcohol the cheap and easy choice of elixirs. Wine retreated into the cellars of the aristocracy.

Peggy explains how this history has made the prized libation of everyman the exclusive property of a few. "We are at this point because we did not listen," Peggy says.

Wine, in fact, was a big part of American life. It was the homegrown product of immigrant farmers. My own great-grandfather, Crescenzo Fimiani, squeezed 350 gallons of wine a year in his basement press. Most of it he drank himself, often from a large water glass he first filled with sliced peaches. My grandfathers also grew their own vegetables and made their own wine. The story is not uncommon.

It's a tradition carried on at Pizzadili Vineyards and Winery. Brothers Pete and Tony Pizzadili turned 110 acres of land in Felton into Delaware's second producer of wine. This year will mark their inaugural bottling of wine for sale to the public.

The winery, however, has been open for a while. Pete and Tony bought the land back in 1992. Since then, they have built a facility where they regularly host weddings and banquets. Delaware's Department of Tourism has called the winery the state's best-kept secret. Now, with the brothers' first vintage, their dream of marrying their catering business with their passion for wine is coming to fruition.

On a sweltering August day I visit Pete at the winery, and to my great relief, our first stop is the cool barrel room. The stucco walls within sweep upwards on the sides to meet at the peak of a high Tudor arch. At the base of each long wall lies a flank of casks made from American white oak. The air is still, and in the low ambient light gives the space the tranquility of a church. It's not hard to get the sense that something special happens here.

Pete leads me through other rooms filled with processing equipment and 500-liter stainless steel fermentation vats to a special cellar he calls the cave. I find myself in a plain room of stone and concrete, basically a deep blind arch. Opposite the door is a wall of bottles, reposed in maturation. A few barrels of Chardonnay rest on steel cradles.

The room is a tribute to Pete's roots. His father, a wine-maker, had just such a room carved into the living rock of the hillside in Sardinia where Pete was raised.

"I grew up in a barrel," he says, with a smile and a distinct Italian accent. "Really. My brother and I, we used to have to get into the big vats and clean them."

Our tour continues to the grounds outside, which are landscaped with ponds, pavilions and walkways. Everywhere grow signs of Pete's passion for the earth. An espaliered apple tree along the walkway bears pendants of two types of apple. He has hundreds of roses, peaches, nectarines and figs. Sage and rosemary are planted in the vineyard as well, and they give the grapes nearby a distinct character. His 17 acres of trellised grape vine are meticulously trained and pruned.

In spite of all this, Pete is modest about his winemaking. "I'm not a winemaker," he insists. "A winemaker goes to school and understands chemistry. I'm still learning."

But the study of oenology alone does not foster a winemaker, just as art school alone cannot create an artist. Books can't develop one's palate. Experience in the vineyard, and a life provided for by fresh food, good wine, and good land-these teach a winemaker to taste the possibilities buried in the soil, to nurture them from the vines, and refine them in the cellar.

Pete sees things in his land and grapes others don't, and he is creating singular wines.

At the end of a long table in the winery's banquet room, Pete and I sit down with a few bottles of unlabeled wine. He won't tell me what the bottles contain until I taste them.

The first is a dessert wine with a distinct aroma I can't place. "I like it," I say. "This must be the Delaware grape."

Pete nods his assent.

He had told me about this grape. It's done well in his soil and he's proud of it. "I'm in Delaware," he says, "I want to grow the grape with this name."

He pours a second white. It is dry and floral, with a subtle oak finish.

"The Seval blancé"

He nods again

"How about this?" he asks, pouring a nectar shimmering with golden hues.

The nose is pure orange-blossom honey. The semi-sweet wine bursts with fruit and a hint of citrus, all refined by delicate oak. And there is something I can't peg, something delightful in the aroma.

"Its fantastic," I say, "but I'm stumped."

The wine turn's out to be Seval, only this time it is animated and transformed by the addition of a little Niagra.

"The Niagra," says Pete, "has a personality you can't forget."

Pete's next two wines are red. The first had the characteristics of a great young Rosso di Montalcino: tobacco, spice and berries-austere and noble. I tell Pete his Italian roots are evident, and that I absolutely love the wine.

Pete doesn't grow Sangiovese, so it must be Chambourcin.

Pete nods.

"Like in Italy," Pete explains, "the grapes here, they have a little more acidity."

The last wine Pete pours is pretty clearly a Merlot. As I sip, he explains that he was not content with the wine as a straight varietal, so he worked a little magic, mingling other grapes to produce this superb blend.

"What do you think? Be honest," he prods. "You give me a six out of 10, then I'm happy."

If Pete had told me I was drinking a well-aged Saint Emillion, I wouldn't have batted an eye.

Pete seems pleased with what he and his brother have done. The winery is a garden and a retreat, a place to get married, have a banquet, or stroll among the vines and flowers while enjoying a glass of Delaware wine.

Pete loves Delaware soil, and he refuses to make or sell wine that is not the product of his own land and labor. "If you want California wine," says Pete, "don't look here."

"Here," he emphasizes, "is Delaware. I'm proud of that."

What California can offer, however, is a lesson in history.

Chaddsford Winery's Eric Miller is known among
fellow winemakers as "The Willy Wonka of Wine"
because of his viticultural vigor.
Photograph by Kevin Fleming
www.kevinfleming.com

"I can remember the '70s when people wouldn't think of drinking California wine," muses Lee Miller. She and her husband Eric founded Chaddsford Winery in 1982.

In the '70s, Lee and Eric were living in the Hudson Valley, where Eric was cultivating his winemaking skills at his father's winery, Benmarl. When Lee and Eric decided to break out on their own and went searching for ideal wine country, the couple settled on a parcel of land just a few miles over the Delaware line in Chadds Ford. There, they fought the same battles Eric's father fought in the '70s, when he had to change state law to earn New York's winery license No. 1.

First Lee and Eric changed Pennsylvania laws. Then they set about trying to sway public opinion.

"That fight is pretty much over," says Lee. "People finally are recognizing what's going on, and it is exciting."

The pair works in perfect symbiosis. Lee is the left side of the brain. Eric is the right. She takes care of business. Eric creates the wine. Lee is savvy, charming and practical. Eric is quintessentially an artist. He has a sort of wild enthusiasm when he speaks about wine, and his sentences seem to end either with exclamation points or question marks. His imaginative genius with viticulture has also earned him a nickname among fellow winemakers: The Willy Wonka of Wine.

Lee and Eric attribute their success to the land they chose. Lee and Eric consider themselves as producers of what they call the Atlantic Uplands. They even commissioned a poster, which hangs in the winery's dining room, depicting the piedmont of the "Appellation" Mountains sloping toward the Atlantic between New York and Virginia, ideal land for viticulture.

They make a lot of wine-about 35,000 cases last year-and they win a lot of awards. Some of their bottles have more medals around their necks than Mark Spitz.

At the winery's 25th anniversary celebration, I was fortunate enough to get in on a barrel tasting of two of Chaddsford's 25th vintage cuvées. Oenologist Jen Jones lifts a few ounces of Miller Estate Chardonnay from the barrel with a wine thief, an elegant glass tube designed to "steal" wine from the bung, then transfers the golden liquid into my glass. The young wine is a real charmer, tropical and balanced.

Standing guard over another cask and smiling in a tux, is cellarmaster Jim Osborn. He offers me the meritage blend, and, once again, the skeptic in me yields all reservations regarding Bordeaux wines not made in Bordeaux.

I move from barrel to bottle, sampling a Pinot Noir from the '98 vintage. Eric's Burgundean roots really show here. The wine has great complexity and bursts with characteristic black cherry. The highlight for me, however, is one of Eric's Italian wines, Due Rossi.

Now, with Italian vino, just in case you haven't figured it out yet, I tend to get a bit particular-alright, perhaps even snobbish. Nevertheless, Eric's wine floored me. It's an inventive marriage, or perhaps a mad-scientist's blend, of two-thirds Barbera (the austere strongman of the Piemonte) and one-third Sangiovese (the noble principessa of Tuscany). Due Rossi demonstrates that Eric's artistry in the vineyard is as broad and original as it is classically inspired.

Eric approaches his art with a sort of Bohemian daring and total obedience to his muse. "Eric is very fortunate that his life and wife have allowed him to express his art without any other real responsibility," Lee says.

The real achievements, however, are on a larger scale. Lee and Eric have led a populist wine revolution in the Atlantic Uplands.

"People want accessible wine," says Lee.

That term, "accessible," has taken on unfortunate connotations, but, in fact, it refers to a wine that is full of good flavor and complexity now, not later.

"It's appealing that we make wines to drink now," says Lee.

It's fairly European, too. It's the way things have usually been, with wine coming straight from the winery to be enjoyed in daily life. The true tradition of wine is not one of elitism. It is one of availability and local character. In a state built largely on family farming, this idea resonates, and the local producers who put great wine on our tables really are making history in Delaware.

Ten Wines to Try Now
Wines come in and out of vogue as quickly as shoes, and limited production or shipments can make the stars hard to reach. Here are 10 to sample while you can.

2006 Barone Fini Pinot Grigio Alto Adige
With a connection to winery owner Francesco Bonmartini, George Frizalone of United Distributors says this crisp white is characterized by citrus flavors. A refreshing finish rises above the name-dropping. $9.99

2006 Keller Riesling Trocken
Steve Kogler of Teller Wines in Lewes offers this as a great dry white with olfactory hints of lemon, grapefruit and melon. Critics have raved about its drinkability and affordability. $17

2005 Chaddsford Miller Estate Vineyard Chardonnay
Frizalone says that as one of the finest East Coast wineries, our neighbor had plenty to be proud of during its recent 25th anniversary. "They just consistently put out award-winning wines." The '05 Chardonnay stands out. $27.99

2004 Schramsberg Brut Rose
Made from Napa Valley Pinot Noir and a splash of Chardonnay, this sparkler tickles the fancy of Frank Pagliaro of Frank's Union Wine Mart. "Its tiny bubbles make up a creamy mousse that will put a huge smile on your face," he says. $39.99

2005 Tojo Lisa
The Portuguese ruby is perfect with your Thanksgiving turkey, says John Sands of Vino 100 in Wilmington, thanks to "fragrant cherry flavors and pleasantly fruity finish" from a blend of Castelao and Alicante Bouschet grapes. $13

Penley 2005 Sparkling Pinot Noir
Out of the ordinary, yes, but this in-house creation by Penley owner and winemaker Kym Tolley is special, raves Ciro Poppiti of NKS Distributors. Act fast, though. Of the 500 cases distributed worldwide, Delaware gets 200, thanks to Poppiti's deal making. $20

2002 Neyers Grenache
Bruce and Barbara Neyers met at UD, but they now create standout wines from their award-winning Napa winery. Aging 18 months in French oak provides a dense finish to this fruity red with berry accents up front, says Frizalone. $25.95

Jessie's Grove 2005 Earth, Zin & Fire
This Zinfandel from groovy Lodi, California, available at Teller, invokes your old hippie girlfriend with hints of pepper, berry, exotic spice and undertones of chocolate paired with long, smooth legs at the finish. $16

Wildekrans 2005 Cabernet Franc-Merlot
This oak-aged red from South Africa boasts a "spicy black and red fruit on the nose with a slightly vanilla finish," says Sands. $14.99

Red Guitar 2005 Tempranillo Garnacha
With its quality and affordability, this blend from the Navarra region of Spain should have a place on everyone's table, says Poppiti. $9

-Scott Pruden

Ten Great Wine Lists
We surveyed the wine media, local wine shop owners who love to dine out, and the distributors who help restaurateurs create their restaurant lists to identify 10 truly outstanding ones. Here are their picks.

The Green Room, Hotel du Pont
The grande dame of Wilmington has spruced up her list to keep up with the kids. Food and beverage director Thomas Hannum keeps the wines rooted in France and California to complement the French-inspired cuisine, but has ventured into New Zealand, Australia and Chile. Executive sous chef Patrick D'Amico suggests teaming the wild rockfish and caramelized pear with the 2005 Cakebread Cellar Chardonnay. $54

Harry's Savoy Grill
With big steaks must come big wines, so this North Wilmington classic is well aware of the demands its menu places on the list. Naturally, Cabernets are "the big gun," says manager Kelly O'Hanlon, but beverage director Ann Hood strives to offer a broad selection of varietals. Want a super-big Tuscan to go with that prime rib? Try Sassicaia. $215

Domaine Hudson Wine Bar & Eatery
At Tom Hudson's oenophile oasis in Wilmington, an expansive list guarantees you've got something new to try with tasty items from executive chef Jason Barrowcliff's menu. Max your credit line by pairing Dijon-crusted New Zealand lamb chop with roasted tomato and garlic sauce with Harlan Estate 2003 Cabernet Sauvignon. $695

Caffé Gelato
The selection of wines will increase significantly with the completion of the restaurant's new 1,500-bottle cellar in December. Items off the Cellar Selections list can run up to $200, but for a great value, owner Ryan German recommends the J Vineyards Pinot Noir, or, to pair with the rack of lamb, the 2003 Domaine Charbonniere Chateauneuf du Pape. Both $46

Espuma
"I try really hard to create a cohesive experience," says owner Jay Caputo. "What I do here is try to find stuff that is very food friendly and a little off the beaten path," with a good back story, organic ingredients or eclectic nature. Because many of Caputo's favorite bottles end up with limited allocations, "you've really got to take advantage of stuff while you get it." He likes the Rocket Science, a blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Syrah and Merlot, with steak and veal. $80

Vallé Cucina Italiano
Owner Frank Reno Jr. takes the philosophy of his father when choosing wines. "Everything on our wine list is something we've tried and liked," he says. "We put our name behind it because it's great wine." Naturally the list is heavy with big Cabernets and Italians, running from $25 to $250 a bottle, to match steaks and pasta. But look closely and you'll find hidden gems, like the rare but underpriced Chateau St. Jean Meritage '94, a steal. $110.

The Buttery
Chef Gary Papp and owner John Donato maintain a symbiotic food-wine relationship. Papp prepares delicacies like seared ahi tuna with coconut sesame and Hawaiian sea salt at the Lewes restaurant. Donato adds a broad range of wines to complement. The selection isn't the work of one man, though. Papp and his staff regularly taste wines to match the menus. The focus is good values that reflect the seasonality of the food. Papp's current favorite is the Olivier Laflaive Bourgogne Blanc les Sétilles. "That's a beautiful wine for $39. It's quite fabulous," Papp says.

Chez La Mer
With 24 years at the restaurant and a suitcase full of Wine Spectator honors stretching back to 1993, beverage manager Thomas Wayson isn't fooling around. The list at this Rehoboth classic tilts toward France and California, but, Wayson notes, "We're not looking at expense account diners," so prices are down to earth. The house pâté loves a dry Riesling. Though prices on the list head north of $300, Wayson suggests the Picket Fence Chardonnay at a low, low price. $34.

Fusion
Chef-owner Bill Karrow's list has evolved to reflect the restaurant's name, stretching into Spain, Argentina and Chile, while keeping the selections attainable. Though the seasonal nature of Rehoboth dining forces Fusion to trim its list when the leaves turn, keep an eye out for South American Malbecs and great pairings with the dense, lean (and fresh) Hawaiian fish he prefers. Feel like splurging a bit? Try the 1999 Franciscan "Magnificat" Napa. $72

Deep Blue
Manager David Talmo keeps the classic fish house offerings-such as cornmeal dusted rainbow trout with chilis, grilled scallions, haricot vert and prickly pear beurre blanc-firmly in mind when making his list, pursuing artisan winemakers whose bottles he has cold-shipped to preserve their integrity. He's been known to uncork the 1990 Poniatowsky Aigle Blanc, at $37 a bottle, for his own meals at the Wilmington restaurant, but the list doesn't disappoint meat eaters. Order the grilled dry-aged New York strip steak with white truffle mushroom mashed potatoes, broccoli rabe, piquillo demi-glace and fried onions to savor with your Road's End 2005 Pinot Noir from Oregon's Willamette Valley. $80

-Scott Pruden

Wine Clubs In and Around Delaware
Wine01
Kelly-Ayn Thomas, who owns an audio visual production company based in Wilmington, got tired of the attitude in other wine clubs, so she decided to start her own. Asked if her group is made up of "swallowers" or "swishers and spitters," she insists that no wine is wasted at any Wine01 gathering. Contact Thomas through the website at www.wine01.blogspot.com.

Delaware Valley Wine Club
Ann Suchta might live over the border in Avondale, Pennsylvania, but her regional group of wine lovers has grown into a formidable force. Private homes, wine stores and restaurants serve as venues for meetings, and members benefit from discounts at a variety of wine purveyors in Delaware and Maryland. The Wine Press newsletter keeps members informed. Email delvalwineclub@yahoo.com or visit www.geocities.com/delvalwineclub.

Meet Up
The social networking site MeetUp.com helps people to find others with similar interests. Established wine clubs include:

Uptown Wine, Philadelphia:
http://wine.meetup.com/241/?gj=sj6

African-American Wine Connoisseurs, Philadelphia: http://wine.meetup.com/422/?gj=sj6

Art, Craft & Wine in West Chester: http://wine.meetup.com/422/?gj=sj6

Metro Philly Wine Lovers, Philadelphia: http://wine.meetup.com/180/?gj=sj6

-Scott Pruden

Start Your Collection Now
So you're failing to distinguish the hints of cassis up front from the notes of currant at the finish. You still know what you like, and you want more of it. But where to begin collecting?

Take a look at the reflection in your wine glass. Now educate yourself.

Information on wines has exploded, thanks to growing interest among young drinkers. And that's a great place to start.

"There's so much material out there in bookstores or on the Web, and there's tons of resources that will teach you the lingo of wine," says John Sands of Vino 100 in Wilmington.

The wine media-publications like Wine Spectator magazine that aim directly at oenophiles-provides not only a monthly tutorial in wine, but also in-depth and up-to-date information on what regions are doing and what vintages and varietals have potential.

"Th