Here's one for the ABCs
Any one grape can be represented in so many different ways that while you're ordering your Chardonnay you may as well ask the waiter how long is a piece of string, and pay corkage for the pleasure.
Just consider the wine world's two most popular (or common) grapes at their worst: it might just be a choice between being clobbered by a fat-arsed bloke in a duffel coat (Chardonnay) or slashed by the piercing acid burn of sauvignon blanc...
All right, before you think I've finally flipped, such prejudice is a bit on the extreme side but it makes no less sense than the very common habit wine-drinkers have, of pledging themselves to just one grape or another.
Apart from the joy of having a whole repertoire of good taste sensations to match your food or your mood, being open to a range of different varietals not to mention different styles made from it is the nearest thing we've got to ensuring some degree of biodiversity on our shelves.
Chardonnay, for instance, for all the variety, does seem to be coming scarily close to being the default choice of many fans of wine, who are matched in their determination only by the ABCs, the Anything But Chardonnay brigade.
Happily, there appear to be enough wine-drinkers with a wandering palate to make an impact where it matters, back down at grassroots level in the vineyards.
One grape in particular which has seen an extraordinary renaissance is Viognier, capable of making gorgeous dry white wines. The keywords: aromatic, floral, peachy, soft, dry.
In the mid-60s, there were apparently only a mere eight hectares of the Viognier grape being grown in its natural home, Condrieu, a tiny appellation in the northern part of the Rhône which is devoted exclusively to the grape.
It's a bags of a grape to grow, apparently, and the growers there just laugh wistfully at the appellation's rules on maximum output per hectare which is intended to guarantee quality. If only we could successfully grow so much, they'd say.
The grape's relative rarity, combined with a tiny but avid international fan club with lust in their eyes and money in their fists, has kept prices prohibitively high.
But interest in the Viognier plant internationally and elsewhere in France has seen remarkable growth in planting. The uptake of the grape by winemakers in South Australia and California has, perhaps unwittingly, paved the way for wineries in the south of France to begin to make it a speciality and it's taking off.
You'll see it turn up with ever increasing regularity in blends from the south (and southern) France such as Guigal Côtes du Rhône (from Barry & Fitzwilliam); Perrin Reserve Côtes du Rhône (Allied Drinks) or in a starring role on its own in Domaine Fontanelles Vin De Pays d'Oc (Bubble Brothers).
But there are two closely related producers with particularly good examples of what the grape can do on its own.
Henri Miquel's Domaine Cazal-Viel Viognier 2001 (Tesco, 10.87) is gorgeous and flowery with a distinct undercurrent of oak characteristic sense of sweet apricots in honey cinnamon.
Or skip a generation and check out Laurent Miquel's Nord Sud Viognier 2001 (Dunnes Stores, 10.99). It's even more intense on the nose and certainly drier and firmer, leaning towards crisp apples and pears. In both cases, there is a deceptive fruit-sweet rather than sugary sweetness.
Dunnes also carry Laurent Miquel's splendid Chardonnay Viognier 2001. Coming in for just 7.99, this wine's big texture and subtle balance belies its entry-level price.
