So, my wife and I were out in Arizona to see the Georgia Bulldawgs- spelling is correct- beat up on the Sun Devils (back before the season went spiraling into mediocrity...oh, to remember when optimism flourished). The Sunday after the game, we decided to roll up to Sedona and mess with the vortex people or eat a patchouli burrito or something. I must say, the scenery was INCREDIBLE (picture surely doesn't do it justice). The town, however...well, it reminded me of a Southwest version of Helen, GA, only lose the Bavarian kitsch and replace it with Native American/hippie kitsch.

However, as tempting as all the turquoise and silver were, we were delighted to find a wine tasting bar. The place was called The Art of Wine, and the guy who helped us out was very friendly (can't think of the name). The wines, to our surprise, were all produced locally, that is, in Arizona. Not exactly the cooler climate associated with many classic varietals. However, we were willing to give it a try...there's some decent wine in Georgia, so why not?

The first few we tried...well, they sucked. I'm not trying to protect the names; I just can't think of them. They tasted how you would expect grapes grown in such a hot climate would taste: overripe, unbalanced, with not enough acidity or structure. They were trying Rhone grapes here, but the Syrah didn't have the finesse or structure of some of France or California wines. In fact, I recall one wine being so ripe, it literally smelled like my trashcan...just a rotten-vegetable, sickly-sweet decay smell. You know the one if you've ever spent some of your less fortunate years sleeping in a dumpster.