'Wine country' is anywhere in the country

By Robert Scheer

I got a tweet recently asking for a recommendation on places to go in "wine country."

My gut told me that the person meant Napa Valley in California, but I couldn't be sure. With wine now being made across the U.S., what does "wine country" even mean?

Last month, I met with my regular wine-tasting group. We try a bunch of wines blind, in brown bags and then pick a winner. Sometimes winners cost $3 or $4, sometimes $60 or more.

My favorite of that evening was a wine called Outlaw Red, made by Castle Creek Winery in beautiful Moab, Utah. It sells for $13 online, and I thought it was delicious. The label has a painting of a bronco rider on it, and the website describes it as a working-man's wine, built for a steak or bologna sandwich. Not exactly high-brow marketing.

The stuff was tasty. Ripe and fruity, it had enough acidity for me, and was easy drinking and smooth. Grade: B+.

But the group's overall winner was an Ohio wine — Himeros from Mon Ami Restaurant and Winery on the shores of Lake Erie. While I liked a few other wines better, I was blown away by how balanced and complex it was. Grade: B.

I've written about Indian Springs wines in the past, in particular the Syrah. A couple of years ago, I popped for a case of its 2007 Syrah, and finished it up over the next year and a half. If anyone has been to Nevada County, Calif., it's known more for pine trees and gold-rush mystique. The wine crowd usually skips this part of California and heads to Napa Valley, two hours southwest. Grade: A-.

I've had a few glasses of wine from Arizona Stronghold, a funky winery in Cottonwood, Ariz., that I'm seeing in Indiana stores. Recently, I tried the 2010 cabernet sauvignon and 2011 Nachise, a mish-mash red that's a field style blend, containing syrah, petite sirah, grenache and a couple of others. I liked the Nachise blend enough to give it a B+ grade.

It tastes riper and smoother after being open for a day, and I think it would benefit from a couple of years in a cellar. If you're in a hurry, pour a little out of the bottle, re-cork, and give it a good shake. Or you can pop it in the blender and pulse it for a few seconds to give it some air in a hurry.

If you're sensing a theme here, it's because you're as smart as I know you are. Not every good wine comes from a pedigreed area like Napa Valley or Chianti, Italy. I guarantee there are people in California who will mock me for recommending Indiana wines.

About six months ago, a few friends and I went to Tonne winery in Muncie. After tasting through about a half-dozen offerings, I bought a bottle of its riesling. It was delicious, smooth and rich, with just the right amount of sweetness. It had a wonderful apricot and honeysuckle flavor that good rieslings have. I also tasted lychee, which is a delicious southeast Asian fruit my mom used to bring home when I was a kid. Look for it at Saraga grocery or any good Asian market. I picked up a touch of that petrol smell that German rieslings can have, too. Some people call this a flaw, but I kind of like it. Grade: B.

I'll be out in San Diego next week to photograph the Colts vs. Chargers game and will poke around for a bottle of L.A. Cetto petite sirah, which I've never seen in Indiana. It's a Mexican wine from Baja California that can be stupendous.

If you have travel plans, don't be afraid to stop into that little Colorado or Georgia winery you've never heard of before. Sure, you can keep buying and drinking the same safe wines year after year, but finding a killer bottle in a weird area? How cool is that?

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