Most of the time, people ignore the “Dessert Wine” section of a wine list, either because they aren’t ordering dessert or they think they don’t care for sweet wines. But if you pass over that list every time, you’re denying yourself some of the world’s greatest wines, and sometimes some of the greatest wine values.

Port, for instance, usually ends up at the tail end of a wine list or on the dessert menu itself. That ensures that very few people will order it, which is a shame. I can think of few better ways to cap a meal than with a glass of port. It never fails to settle my stomach and engender a feeling of relaxed well-being.

I found myself in need of a good digestif after overdoing it at the Cosmopolitan restaurant in Telluride, and I was delighted to discover a real gem of a port on the menu — a 1988 Barros Colheita, priced at $16 a glass.

$16 may seem expensive for a glass of wine, and certainly that’s more than what I’m used to paying. But it seemed like a bargain for the opportunity to try a 25-year-old vintage port, which would easily cost more than $50 a bottle retail if you could even find it.

Good port tends to age quite well because of its relatively high alcohol content and ample tannins. In fact, many discourage drinking vintage ports until they’re at least 10 years old, because the tannins will otherwise be too tough. I don’t like to wait that long (or pay the high price of vintage port), so I typically purchase “late bottle vintage” port, which, like vintage port, is also from a single year, but ready to drink upon release. It’s also usually a heck of a lot less expensive, because vintage port is made only in “declared” vintage years, and only from the very best fruit of those years.

Colheita port is an even more complicated animal. Although it is a port with a vintage, it tastes very different from vintage port, which is typically concentrated, ripe and raisiny. Colheita is more akin to a tawny port, which can be anything from brown-tinged inexpensive port made from lighter grapes aged in wood, to port aged 10, 20, 30 or more years in fine oak made from high-quality fruit in undeclared vintage years. I think of tawnys as brownish in color, with caramel, oak and sometimes some oxidative sherry-like notes.

But Colheita port is a more clearly defined and restricted category than tawny port. The Oxford Companion to Wine offers this concise explanation of colheita:

Colheitas are best understood as tawny ports from a single year, bottled with the date of harvest on the label. The law states that colheita ports must be aged in wood for at least seven years, although most are aged considerably longer.

There are yet more styles of port besides colheita, tawny, vintage and late bottle vintage port. It’s a ridiculously complicated beverage. And yet so irresistible. The 1988 Barros Colheita Port had a reddish caramel color and a bouquet that expanded far beyond the rim of the glass. It smelled very enticingly of wood, dark-red fruit, caramel and vanilla. Though my eyes were wide with anticipation at this point, the flavor did not let me down. Kapow! The forceful, driving flavors of wood, apricot, dried fruit and zesty spice seemed remarkably young, especially considering that the port was a quarter-century old.

Lively, gorgeous and exciting — well worth the $16 price tag. More evidence that the wines on the dessert menu can be some of the best in a restaurant’s collection.

It’s weeks now after my visit to New Mexico, and I still can’t get over the quality of the wines that the state now produces. I recently wrote about how New Mexico could be an ideal home for Cabernet Franc here, but Cab Franc is hardly the only red variety which grows well in the state.

Many of the reds I tried had a brick-red color, perhaps due to the local soil composition, and many looked relatively transparent and light, like a typical Pinot Noir. But the color belied the ripe fruit flavors so often evident in New Mexican reds.

Here is a round-up of some of the best red wines I tasted while traveling through New Mexico (not including the Cabernet Francs). Most will be difficult to find outside of the state, making it all the more worthwhile to explore its extraordinarily beautiful landscapes yourself.

VIVÁC

A very fine winery located southwest of Taos, Vivác also has a cheerful tasting room in Santa Fe at the Railroad District’s twice-weekly farmers market, held Tuesdays and Saturdays (see the tasting room webpage for specific hours). Although Vivác makes some fine whites, it is better-known for its red wines, which I found to be generally delicious. It didn’t hurt that the tasting room served them in Riedel crystal stemware. Any of the wines below would be a fine value for the money.

2011 Vivác Dolcetto: Very little of this early-ripening variety is planted outside Italy’s Piemonte (Piedmont) region, and I most often see it in Dolcetto d’Alba. But here it was in the Southwest, with ripe up-front fruit, measured spice, well-balanced acids and a dry finish. A positively delightful Dolcetto — rich in fruit but light on its feet.

2009 Vivác Nebbiolo V. Series: Later-ripening Nebbiolo also traditionally grows in Piemonte, where it forms the base of famed (and expensive) wines such as Barolo and Barbaresco. This more affordable Nebbiolo is aged 12 months in used oak barrels, and the fruit comes from a single vineyard (hence the “V” designation). Despite the contact with oak, the aroma remained light and fresh, and the flavor was obviously fruity. Yet it felt dry, again with elegantly balanced acids, and some intriguing dried herbs underneath. I have a feeling it would have been easy to over-oak this wine, but by employing used barrels, the oaky notes were kept under firm control.

2009 Vivác Refosco: Yet another Italian variety, from the far eastern border with Slovenia, where it sometimes appears as Teran. With a handful of exceptions, most Slovenian Terans I’ve tried were mouthfuls of metal due to the iron-rich soil. Here the wine was free of metallic notes, offering instead an aroma of red fruit and fresh hay. I very much enjoyed the creamy texture and dark strawberry fruit, and the green undertones would surely make this wine a fine pairing with lamb or venison.

2011 Vivác Tempranillo: Vivác doesn’t only make northern Italian varietals — Tempranillo (the base of Rioja) made a lovely wine with ripe and dusky fruit, something a little herbaceous and focused, restrained spice. Lively, with a lovely texture.

2010 Vivác Cabernet Sauvignon V. Series: This classic Bordeaux variety made for a surprisingly refreshing wine, with bright acids, darkly raisiny fruit and well-balanced tannins. Certainly a fine pairing with red meat of any kind.

2008 Vivác “Diavolo”: An unusual blend of 40% Syrah, 30% Tempranillo, 25% Cabernet Sauvignon and 5% Merlot, this wine exhibited an herbaceous red-fruit aroma, a luxuriously rich mouthfeel, ripe red fruit and very bright white-pepper spice. Zesty and delicious. Bring me a steak.

2009 Vivác “Amante”: I am a real sucker for a good port-style wine, and the Amante put a giant smile on my face. Made with Tempranillo and local Don Quixote brandy (port is a fortified wine), the Amante had a luscious raisiny aroma with overtones of violets. Rich, raisiny fruit gave way to an unusual (and not at all unpleasant) note of hay, with a delectable finish of mocha. The texture was almost syrupy, but the ample acids somehow managed to balance it out.

ESTRELLA DEL NORTE

This winery lay derelict at the base of the High Road to Taos for years, its vineyards neglected and overgrown. The present owners did a magnificent job restoring the property, which now has a tasting room and a romantic outdoor event venue. The wines lived up to the idyllic setting.

2010 Estrella del Norte Barbera: Another northern Italian variety flourishing in New Mexico — I wouldn’t have guessed that northern Italian vineyards had so much in common with the American Southwest! This Barbera would be an ideal barbeque wine, with soft fruit and zippy black-pepper spice. Dené, who poured the wines, told me that this was the first Estrella del Norte wine she fell in love with.

NV Santa Fe Vineyards Tinto del Sol: This unorthodox blend of Ruby Cabernet (a cross of Carignan and Cabernet Sauvignon) and Zinfandel had a very jammy aroma, and it tasted fun, soft and a little sweet. I’ve been on the hunt for a red wine to go with spicy red meat-based dishes, and I suspect this one would do the trick nicely.

2008 Santa Fe Vineyards Zinfandel Port: With bold, spicy, raisiny fruit, this was one racy port. Big and attention-grabbing.

BLACK MESA

This winery is located in Velarde, about 30 miles southwest of Taos (Taos itself is too cold to grow grapes). Its tasting room in Taos is right between the Harwood Museum and the Blumenschein House, making it an ideal place for refreshment in the middle of an art-focused afternoon. The Hacienda del Cerezo recommended that I try the Black Mesa Chardonnay with dinner one night. I was disappointed neither by it nor the reds I later sampled.

2011 Black Mesa Syrah: What a beautiful aroma of jammy cherries and earth. This wine had a lovely texture, and it developed deeply and slowly. I loved the very sophisticated, tightly restrained black-pepper finish.

2010 Black Mesa Antelope: My notes tell me this is a 50/50 blend of Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot, but the Black Mesa website also lists Cabernet Franc. Whatever is in it, this wine is lovely, with a creamy dark-fruit aroma and big, bold flavors. The ripe fruit, zesty acids and hint of green would certainly make this Bordeaux-style blend an ideal match for lamb.

2009 Black Mesa Petite Sirah: This wine really seduced me with its sumptuous aroma of deep red fruit and tobacco. On the palate, the lush fruit moved into a burst of black pepper and a graceful finish of tobacco. Lovely.

CASA RONDEÑA

This winery on the outskirts of Albuquerque wouldn’t look out of place in Andalusia (the owner/vintner studied flamenco in southern Spain). The tasting room also serves as a bar, where guests can purchase full glasses of favorite wines to enjoy in the grand lounges or fountained gardens.

2010 Casa Rondeña Meritage: A lively blend of Merlot, Cabernet Franc and Cabernet Sauvignon, this wine had creamy fruit, bright acids and some pointy spice, with something meaty in the finish. “Could definitely have a few glasses of that,” I wrote in my notes.

2009 Casa Rondeña “1629”: This blend takes its name from the year the first vines were planted in the United States, not all that far from where Casa Rondeña stands today. A mix of Syrah, Cabernet Sauvignon and Tempranillo, the 1629 had a heady, alcoholic aroma of dark fruit. It tasted rich, jammy and spicy, and I can see why it’s a favorite of Cristin, who was pouring. Syrah, Cabernet Sauvignon and Tempranillo don’t often appear in the same bottle together, except in New Mexico it seems (see the Vivác “Diavolo” above). But hey, it works!

2006 Casa Rondeña Animante: I thoroughly enjoyed this Cabernet Sauvignon-based dessert wine, with its richly raisiny fruit, dry underbelly, brassy spice and tannic finish. It cut right through the richness of some chocolate fudge — an excellent pairing.

ST. CLAIR

About 10 minutes south from Casa Rondeña, on the edge of Old Town, the Albuquerque branch of this winery is more of a wine bar and bistro. The patio looked like a wonderfully relaxing place for lunch. I stuck to drinking, however, and discovered all sorts of delights.

2009 St. Claire Reserve Merlot: With a nose full of cherries, tart cherry fruit on the palate and a tannic finish, this was cherry pie in a glass. But oddly, it didn’t taste overly sweet.

2008 D.H. Lescombes Pinot Noir: This unusual Pinot Noir had a subtle nose of dusky fruit but little of the characteristic earth. It moved from tightly wound fruit to a bang of lemon/orange acids, finishing on a note of grape candy and white-pepper spice. For those who prefer their Pinots without a lot of earth, this is the one for you.

2008 D.H. Lescombes Cabernet Sauvignon: A pretty magenta, this Cab had an enticingly jammy aroma; big, full fruit; some well-balanced oak and a spicy finish.

2008 D.H. Lescombes Limited Release Petit Verdot: Originally a Bordeaux blending grape, Petit Verdot is seen more and more as a stand-alone varietal in various parts of the world (though not in Bordeaux). This expression had appealing notes of dusty raisins and black pepper, and an elegantly supple mouthfeel. This wine could hold its head high in any tasting of Petit Verdots.

See my round-up of favorite New Mexican whites here, and a review of a particularly delightful New Mexican Chardonnay here.

Drinking whiskey at a bar where Butch Cassidy once did

I’m currently traveling through the wilds of Colorado, and along the way. I’ve encountered a handful of surprisingly well-crafted wines, most notably from Sutcliffe Vineyards.

But when I stopped by a former mining town-turned-resort where the notorious criminal Butch Cassidy once drank, I decided it was time to order some whiskey. It just didn’t seem quite right to have a glass of Riesling standing atop Cassidy’s signature carved into the bar (see right).

I wanted something local, and Erik the bartender recommended Stranahan’s Colorado Whiskey. Stranahan’s distillery is located in Denver, and the whiskey is distilled exclusively from barley grown in the nearby Rocky Mountains. (The water also comes, of course, “from the snow-packed peaks of the Colorado Rockies.”)

Sampled neat, the whiskey had an appealing nose of corn and vanilla, but a generally dry character. It started smooth and oaky, followed by a blast of rowdy spice and a fascinating herbaceous and slightly bitter finish.

At 94 proof, this is a strong, serious whiskey that any manly mountain man would enjoy. I suspect even Butch Cassidy himself would have approved.

With elegant classical symmetry, the grand Schloss Johannisberg stands over vineyards sweeping down to the storied Rhein River. Some of Germany’s most famous wines come from these slopes in the heart of the Rheingau.

I’d had such fun tasting wines in the friendly Pfalz region, I couldn’t wait to try some Rheingau vintages. They’re hardly unusual or obscure, but heck, even I dip into the well-known stuff from time to time.

And therein lies the problem. The Pfalz, for example, doesn’t see all that many visitors compared to the Rheingau, where once-charming towns such as Rüdesheim teem with tourists seeking to experience some of the Rhein’s legendary glory.

In the Pfalz, we simply walked into delightful wineries such as A. Christmann and Bassermann-Jordan and asked for a tasting. The staff seemed more or less happy to oblige even before they knew I was a wine blogger.

Here, that wasn’t the case. You’ll note that I didn’t title this post “Wine Tasting at Schloss Johannisberg.” No wine tasting happens here. When we entered what appeared to be the tasting room — it was really the shop — and requested a tasting, the fellow behind the counter looked at me like I had just asked for a free case of wine. “Yes, you can have a taste before buying, if you like,” he replied with a raised eyebrow.

I had no intention of buying anything, what with the current histrionic rules regarding liquids in carry-on bags. “I would like to taste a number of wines,” I replied, “and I would be happy to pay for a tasting.”

“We don’t do that sort of thing here,” was the brusque response. With hauteur worthy of the archetypal Parisian sommelier, he continued, “You won’t be able to taste wine that way in Germany.”

Worn out glasses at Schloss Johannisberg

First of all, that’s not true, and second, is that something to be proud of? I could have pulled the blogger card at this point and perhaps he would have softened, but I had no intention of tasting anything with this irritating shop clerk. We walked instead to the restaurant, with admittedly lovely panoramic views down to the Rhein, and ordered two half-glasses of wine.

I enjoyed both the fresh and spicy 2011 Rotlack Riesling Kabinett Trocken and the lush and gingery 2007 Grünlack Riesling Spätlese, but I can tell you I won’t be purchasing either of these wines any time soon. There are too many wonderful Rieslings in Germany to bother with wines from this snobby Schloss. Instead, consider a single-vineyard Riesling from the friendly Pfalz, or perhaps a finely crafted wine from the ever-reliable and equally friendly Dr. Loosen in the Mosel Valley.

Leave Schloss Johannisberg to the tourists.