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In our last issue I extolled the obscure, talking up the surprises – and monetary benefits – of wine frontiers. But now it’s time to head in the other direction. Towards shameless conformism, yet with just enough of a hipster edge to remain ahead of the proletariat.

(Um, what? We’re still talking about wine, right?)

There’s an unquestioned wine nobility; great names of the past (though to be honest, we’ve mostly borrowed this caste system from the English) that remain sought-after to this day, with their ranks swelled by a few nouveau riche interlopers. Champagne, Burgundy (white and red), Bordeaux, Barolo, Rioja, Sauternes, Napa cabernet, etc.

Just below that level are wines that may be discovered and established, but aren’t on the tip of everyone’s tongue; perhaps they’ve swallowed and moved on to the next sip. What they aren’t is on every supermarket shelf, which leaves their qualitative reputations intact. Once a wine hits the tabloids, there’s only trouble ahead.

One key member of this sub-royalty – we’re talking the Duke of Luxembourg here, not Queen Elizabeth – is the Rhône Valley. Its wines have quite a history, and more than a few bottles have long been considered among the world’s best, but despite that reputation they’ve been largely under the radar of the name-dropping wine crowd, which used to make them great values. That is, until fairly recently. A few high-profile critics took an extreme liking to the region, and so in a relatively short period of time, prices skyrocketed. That said, the wines are still fairly priced given their quality, especially if one turns away from the true prestige names.

We’ll be talking about the reds here; whites are rare and, for the uninitiated, a little difficult. But first, some geography: the Rhone’s wine regions are roughly split into north and south. In the north, syrah is king, and essentially the only grape in the wines of Côte-Rôtie, Hermitage, St-Joseph, Cornas, and Crozes-Hermitage.

The south is dominated by grenache, but blends (with syrah, mourvèdre, and a bunch of grapes you probably haven’t heard of) are the rule rather than the exception. Châteauneuf-du-Pape is the king, with its court made up of dozens of appellations: Gigondas, Cairanne, Séguret, Beaumes de Venise…a complete list could fill this column. There’s also the peasantry, in the form of Côtes-du-Rhône, which can come from anywhere and be made from just about anything. You can fairly reliably judge the effort put into one of these latter wines by the price; cheaper versions are meant to be easy-drinking quaffers, while anything crossing the $20 barrier has ambition.

They key to understanding Rhône reds is that they’re not about “fruit” as it’s commonly understood. There can sometimes be blackberries in the north, or strawberries (and a strangely appealing bubblegum note from the grenache) in the south, but that’s simply a youthful indiscretion. As they age – and other than everyday Côtes-du-Rhône, these are definitely wines that age – they shed anything resembling a berry, leaving their true essence exposed: the herbal, dusty aroma of the Provençal garrigue (underbrush), leather, and above all a meaty…occasionally more-than-meaty…quality.

Enough talk. Here’s a (far from all-inclusive) shopping list:

Côtes-du-Rhône: Texier, Kermit Lynch, Alary, Mordorée, Coudoulet de Beaucastel, Mas de Boislauzon. All these producers, except for Lynch and Texier, make wines that are drinkable right out of the gate, but reward short-term aging. Texier (who also makes excellent wine from many other Rhône appellations) works in a higher-acid style, thus the wines often need aging to show their best.

Beaumes de Venise: Durban, Domaine de la Brune. In contrast to most of the rest of the southern Rhône, these wines are dominated by a quartz-like minerality.

Séguret: Laurence Féraud. A bargain, and though you don’t have to drink it now, I doubt you’ll be able to wait once you taste your first.

Gigondas: Stehelin, Cayron. The former is forbiddingly tannic and requires much aging, the latter is less difficult but still rewards aging.

Châteauneuf-du-Pape: Beaucastel, Vieux Donjon, Clos des Papes, Pégau, Vieux Télégraphe, Bosquet des Papes. Though I could list a dozen more, those will do for now. They taste best either in the first flush of youth, or at about ten-plus years of age.

Cornas: Allemand, Voge, Verset. Truly striking; the most brooding and muscular of all Rhônes. Age is a must.

Crozes-Hermitage: Alain Graillot. Producers of Crozes regularly under-perform; Graillot is one of the very few who doesn’t.

St-Joseph: Chave, Gaillard. The former makes two bottlings, a slightly modernized version called “Offerus,” and a much more authentic bottling with great aging potential. The latter’s wines are in a fruitier, somewhat oakier idiom.

Hermitage: Chave (very expensive), Faurie. Structured, solemn wines for the very, very long haul.

Côte-Rôtie: Jasmin, Jamet, Ogier. Seductive and floral, akin to great red Burgundy or Barolo, but deceptively ageable. The latter producer works in a bigger, more modern style.

(First published in stuff@night, 2008.)