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Now that it’s clear that cutting edge liquidity can’t be left in the hands of financial types, it’s time for those of us interested in the liquids themselves to take that edge back. Usually, hipster quaffing is left to the cocktail set, or to the world of craft brews. Wine has so much bourgeois baggage (words can’t describe my dismay at the number of times per week I hear, “oh, but I’m not a connoisseur”) that it’s chancy to praise bottles that run ahead of the pack.

But what the hell…

Jean-Paul Brun is a man who likes a good pun almost as much as he likes great Beaujolais. He’s managed both in his frothy “Terres Dorées” Mousseux “FRV100,” a light red sparkling wine made from gamay, the grape of red Beaujolais. (For those confused about the wordplay, say the last sequence of letters and the number in French.) It’s lightly sweet and fairly low in alcohol, with a burst of red berries and an excited-puppy appeal that just can’t be denied, though it probably won’t pee on your leg. Serve it with a light chill.

The appeal of the Ameztoi Txakolina, from Basque country in northern Spain, is definitely not its almost offensively lurid label. It’s the wine within, which tastes of ripe grapefruit and other zesty citrus (including the ever-exotic makrut lime), sugar crystals without any actual sweetness, vibrancy, verve, and a healthy dollop of fun. If you don’t like this, it’s possible that you don’t actually like wine. (By the way, it’s cha-ko-lee-nah.)

Whites from Jurançon in southwestern France aren’t new, but they’re virtually unknown in the States. Part of the problem is the range of styles, which range from dry to incalculably sweet; people don’t know what to expect. But the wines are full of site-derived flavor, tasty in their youth, age wonderfully, and remarkably agile with food. Two producers appear on local shelves, and I’ll concentrate on the dry versions. The first, Barrère “Clos de la Vierge” Jurançon Sec, moves me to fits of incomprehensible prose: it tastes of herbs in the humidity of a thunderstorm’s quiet coda, with the jittery, elusive quality of a song in some bizarre, undanceable time signature. You know, like King Crimson, but with extra parsley. The second, Ramonteu “Domaine Cauhapé” Jurançcon Sec “Chant des Vignes,” is heftier, with pine nuts and bitter almonds alongside grass, pineapple, and a little tsunami of green apple.

If pinot noir was hip in the aftermath of Sideways, it’s now well into mass-market ubiquity. Gamay, from Beaujolais or elsewhere, has pretty much never been hip. And a blend of the two from a region that’s not exactly world-famous for either? Crazy. From the heart of the Loire Valley in central France, the Augé “Domaine des Maisons Brulées” Vin de Table Français “Le Herdeleau” is just such a blend, and brings the best of each variety to the fore: : the brighter, racier red fruit of gamy with a deeper, blue-black berry component from the pinot. It’s sort of like a well-behaved older brother and a fidgety younger brother managing to peacefully coexist for a few hours. And it’s very tasty.

Part of trend-setting is being the first to see the hidden qualities in an awkward misfit. And few grapes have failed to fit in as much as pinotage, one of the most-derided wines in the world. While a few brave souls have transported it elsewhere, its past, present, and future lie in South Africa…a decision I’m sure they’d like to have back. When it’s bad (and it too often is) it tastes of varnish, paint thinner, and the sharp bite of tannic, acidic, and underripe grapes. But when it’s good, it’s absolutely fascinating; the sort of wine that makes people lift an Spock-ish eyebrow and ask, “what is this?” The Southern Right Pinotage from Walker Bay, which is just about as far south as South African vineyards go, turns that varnish into a benefit, polishing dark berries into a well-buffed glow, then adding fine structure and a little jig of complexity.

But that’s only drinking on the cutting edge. It’s possible to go farther: drinking on the bleeding edge.

On second thought, let’s leave that to vampires.

(First published in stuff@night, 2008.)