Cougar Crest Viognier 2005

6:30 p.m.
I may be a charlatan when it comes to wine, but I'm an authority when it comes to beer. And this, my friends, is the Rolling Rock of white wine.

Inoffensive, endlessly drinkable and totally boring, so far CCV 2005 isn't doing much for my wine-drinking education. Which is not to say I don't like it. I'm just waiting for something to happen. I guess I expected that awesome alcoholic tingle on my tongue, and there's just nothing. It's like I'm drinking milk, but it's made out of grapes.

7 p.m.
So now I'm having dinner. I made some store-brand mac 'n' cheese (you know, so the blandness of dinner could complement the blandness of the wine). But I think I was wrong about the CCV. I'm kind of digging it now. It's all fruity and complex, but subtle. How did I not see this before? Those people at Cougar Crest are on to something. Bottom line, if macaroni and cheese counts as pasta, then I recommend drinking CCV with pasta.

8:04 p.m.
So now that I've finished my second frosty mug, I gotta tell you: Best. Wine. Ever. Oh my God, the tingle has finally set in. Except it's not just my tongue—it's my whole face. Sweet, man. Sweet. I'm floating on a cloud of awesomeness, and that awesomeness is called Cougar Crest Viognier 2005.

8:26 p.m.
Is it hot in here? Yeah. It's hot in here.

PRICE: $20-ish
DRINKABILITY: Who am I kidding? This isn't even a question.
SNOB VALUE: So I met this guy, Chris, and he said some nice things about the Cougar Crest. So it must be pretty awesome, right? Cuz he'd know, right?
WHERE TO FIND IT: Cougar Crest Winery
FAMOUS LAST WORDS: Rrrrraawwwwrrrrrr!!! (Just don't forget your packet of powdered cheese.)

Tamarack Cellars Firehouse Red 2005

Never trust a wine you can buy in the grocery store. This is what my elitist friends say time and again. And I say it depends on the grocery store.

I grabbed a bottle off the shelf and dropped it into my basket between a block of organic extra-firm tofu and a sixpack of Miller Highlife tallboys. Life is about finding a balance.

To me, a big part of any wine experience is the sensation of being much more sophisticated than I actually am. So before I uncork this baby, I flip on All Things Considered. Then I pour a nice tumbler-full (did I mention I don't own any stemware?) and consider the color. This wine is reddish-brown. So far, no surprises. It smells the way that wine smells. I mean, it's a scent that doesn't exactly scream "drink me!" But it doesn't say "I am poison" either, so, gingerly gripping the lip of the tumbler to avoid warming the contents, I take a dainty sip.

This is the part of the show where my lack of wine vocabulary is going to slow me down. I can tell you that the label uses phrases like "smooth," "full-bodied," "surprising depth" and "fruit-filled." To me, these words conjure up Matt, who discovered during the course of our relationship that he was gay.

I actually drink this stuff all the time, both at restaurants and at parties thrown by good-looking, educated friends of mine. The name is easy to remember and I know I like it. And it's good with everything—steak, pasta, french fries, chocolate cake, PBJ, Ritz crackers, pistachios, seven-layer bean dip...

PRICE: I paid less than $20 for the bottle.
DRINKABILITY: I should be buying it by the case. It's practically a food group.
SNOB VALUE: Some. Aside from the grocery store provenance, it's actually a pretty swell table red. And it's wine, right? It's already a step or two up from what I usually drink.
WHERE TO FIND IT: Tamarack Cellars
FAMOUS LAST WORDS: Who needs a heterosexual boyfriend when you have a bottle of Firehouse Red and a stack of trashy romance novels?