Wine-lovers’ Paradises

By Frank Cotolo

Anyone who knows me knows I am a wine-lover, so I am apt to chase my passion to wine regions across the world.

I think kindly of Napa Valley, California, where there is superb wine and there are still women whose lovely feet dance upon the grapes that produce some of the finest Cabernet Sauvignon, even if a toenail floats to the surface here and there. There are hundreds of wineries in the area; I once counted fifty before blacking out. Also, the Mediterranean-like climate is perfect for producing Zinfandel, since it is the only region that produces grapes shaped much like Anthony Quinn’s head.

Tuscany, Italy, has recently become a popular area for wine, adding to it being the knife-fighting capitol of Europe. Tourists crave its Chianti and Montalcino, which is also the name of Tuscany’s most adored comedy team.

I quickly become a snob at Geaux Bordeaux in France. What a pure menu of reds and whites can be consumed there, where the cleanliness of the local whores is equally praised. It is the home to the most expensive bottles in the world, as well as there are inexpensive table wines you can lick off of inexpensive tables.

Few think of Australia as a healthy wine region but the Barossa Valley is a special spot, known for its robust varieties of red. Red-wine connoisseurs never leave here sober and are often arrested for being lewd with vegetables in its rolling, vine-covered hills.

My favorite spot is La Rioja, Spain, where the wine flows like … wine. It has three regions: Rioja Alta, Rioja Alavesa, and Rioja Baja, all from the Rioja family of adjectives. There are outstanding reds here. In fact, Jack Reed visited early in his career and became inebriated by an aging oak, almost choking on vanilla flavors.

Back in California, I love the Sonoma Valley, which author Jack London labeled the “Valley of the Moon.” When he realized it was too difficult a task to find a label large enough to paste on the area, London changed his name to Paris and left. I am just another one of the legendary writers who goes there to drink, dance, drink, have sex, and drink. To tell you the truth, I barely notice the moon on any given night.

Finally, I love Chile’s Valle Central. It is close to the Chilean capital, Santiago, among the Andes Mountains, adjacent to the Amos Mountains. The wine is thick, rich and Maipo Valley’s Cabernets are often poured by naked waitresses, as well as the Curico’s Chardonnays are great to suck from their bottles’ corks.