• by Larry Dobrow , Featured Columnist, March 8, 2006

With next Friday's double hit of St. Patrick's Day and the first round of the NCAA Tournament a mere 188 hours away--not to mention two family weddings looming in the months that follow--I clearly need to bone up on my binge drinking. Newsstand on the corner, whaddaya got for me?

Not much, darn it. If investors are sinking gazillions of dollars into Waterworld-ish concepts like Inspired Homewrecker or Rat Fancy or Radar, how is it possible that the industry hasn't devoted a few shekels to, say, Cheap Beer Monthly or Tara Reid's SHOTS? As Ray Davies once sang: give the people what they want.

In the absence of low-minded boozing titles, I got onto my tippie-toes and jerked a copy of Decanter, which understatedly bills itself as "the world's best wine magazine," off the top shelf of the mag rack. A UK publication with worldwide distribution, Decanter doesn't dilly-dally. This isn't a "wine lifestyle" title akin to Cigar Aficionado; you won't find related products (wine glasses, velveteen ponchos for tasting excursions, teeth-whitening paste for post-Burgundy oral hygiene, etc.) on its pages, nor anything vaguely resembling a personality. Wine nuts, it appears, are not a particularly jaunty lot.

While this tonal consistency may prompt enthusiasts to hoist their carafes in snooty admiration, it renders Decanter borderline lifeless to everybody else. On the enormously rare occasions most of us purchase a bottle of wine, we go down to the corner liquor store, find something that looks relatively classy, then scrape off the $6.95 price tag before presenting it to our gracious hosts. When Decanter readers want to do the same, however, they apparently must research their purchase extensively, buy it from a merchant who wears sweater vests, and hide it in the cellar for six or seven years. Where's the fun in that? I want to be drunk now.

The March Decanter does best when it hits the road. Despite the glut of grinning-vintner snapshots, the feature on under-the-radar Australian wine producers shines light on a community better known for its toothless beer drinkers and crocodile dundees (or is it "crocodiles dundee"? Mr. Safire, can we get a ruling?). Equally informative, if dry, are pieces on Bulgarian wines (lots of good 'uns there) and Sonoma ones (yup). Each of the geography-centric stories is appended with lists of key players, new releases and best values--the latter one of the mag's few concessions to wine novices.

Decanter starts to lose momentum with its "Magnificent Mouton" cover story. Allowing a winehead to taste 61 years' worth of Château Mouton-Rothschild goodies is a terrific idea in theory. Sadly, the writer describes this once-in-a-lifetime experience with all the fervor of a toll-booth attendant. Film producer Simon Ralph's description of "My Passion For Wine" ain't exactly lusty, while the interview with third-generation wine scion Noël Ramoret is hamstrung both by rote responses and descriptive passages best described as sad ("Noël Ramoret was born in 1962--not on Christmas Day, as you might think, given his name").

The recap of a recent Decanter wine summit comes across as incredibly self-serving, and that's before one gazes upon the two pages of zombie-like event photos. On the other hand, at least it's relatively timely--as opposed to the "Stateside" look at Kentucky's status as an up-and-coming winemaker, which could have been written 30 months ago. The mag gets bonus points for assigning it to a writer unfamiliar with the state's peculiarities: "Kentucky, the home of bourbon, beautiful women, fast horses and bad weather, has joined the American rush to plant vineyards." Beautiful women? Bad weather?

I was fortunate enough to attend a college that offered its seniors the opportunity to take a taste-testing-tastic "Introduction to Wine & Spirits" course. In it, I learned to distinguish between glib Gewurztraminers and piquant Pinot Grigios; separately, I also passed out a lot before prime time. But even had this course prompted a lifelong love affair with the grape, I can't imagine Decanter would be occupying a prized spot on my coffee table. An enthusiast title assembled without much enthusiasm--no thanks.