So, horrid visualizations aside, let's talk a little vino. I've been mad silly about Spanish wine lately. This country grows TONS of grapes...2.9 million acres under vine (source: wikipedia.org). You guessed it: Spain has more vineyard acreage than ANY other country out there. Behind France and Italy in wine production, Spain is #3, and it is the #1 exporter of wine in the world (source: my brain, fool! You wanna step to this, cool breeze?). Alright, I'm doubting myself on the exporting thing. Please correct me if I'm wrong.

Big time producer, right? But Spain's clearly not flossing the notoriety of its neighbors. Look at it from a comedic perspective (it's about time we had some comedy on this stinkin' blog): France is the Eddie Murphy...ruled the world back in the day, incredibly talented, a pricey ticket, but a real pretentious ass when interviewed. Italy is the Andrew Dice Clay: old school, rough-around-the-edges, but will always command a high dollar, because no one gets sick of Barolo, Brunello, or dirty nursery rhymes. Spain...ah, Spain is the Rodney Dangerfield. Tons of talent, no respect.

But people are noticing. Big time. Sort of like after Caddyshack, or- in my humble opinion- after Back to School...Dangerfield and Oingo Boingo together in one movie? 'Zounds. That's all I can say. 'Zounds.

And when people start noticing, the price goes up. So go out and find some Spanish values while you can!

The latest Iberian grape getting me bug-eyed and sweaty is Garnacha (aka "Grenache" most everywhere else in the world). I'm a huge fan of wines from France's Rhône Valley, particularly Syrah-based gems, but as the weather (c'mon weather) starts to warm into Spring, I'm jonesin' for something a little lighter than the war-hammer-to-the-temple power and structure of Syrah. This is where Garnacha comes in. It manifests in wines that are much lighter, less-extracted, and lower in tannin than its more-notable Rhône bedfellow. That being said, Garnacha is no pillow-pusher. The wines are almost always characterized by two thumbprints: intense aromas and flavors of strawberries, and substantial alcohol that makes you want to start shouting things en Español. ¡Dios Mio!

So, if you're gonna give Spain some respect, give its Garnacha some love, too. One well-worth the under-$15 price tag is the 2007 Atteca Old Vines Garnacha. Pretty, but subtle (an "old world" attribute) bouquet of a bowl of fresh berries: strawberries, blackberries, raspberries on the nose. In the mouth, more blackberries, pepper, spice, and a hefty, but not offensive, kick of heat on the back end from the 14.5% alcohol. Tart (but not really acidic), jammy, easy-drinking delight. I think I paid $13.99, and I've drank a LOT worse for that scratch.

2007 Atteca? Garnacha? Spanish Wine? Easy money, my friends. Easy money. How's that for respect, Rod?

...and, yes, I'm completely ruining my tidy wrap-up of this post, but I just got to thinking, what with all the Oingo Boingo-talk: why are parties in 80's movies so much better than any party...ever? I'm just sayin'...

Ah, self-effacing humor. It's become sort of a theme.

Anyway, if you haven't checked out any wines from Spain (some notable regions that would be printed on the labels are Rioja, Ribera Del Duero, Priorato, Navarra, etc.), you may be missing out on some of the best QPR (quality-price ratio) juice on the market. Granted, there is some pricey stuff from the above-mentioned regions, but the country is heavy loaded with values.

Beyond the fact that Spain has (relatively) recently made incredible strides in quality wine production, thus spurring more efforts in the realms of marketing and exporting (including aggressive price points to break into new markets), some of the production laws create incredible deals.

So, what you get with these wines is a bunch of aging (which costs money to do) at a price point of those that don't get this heartwarming brand of fuzzy T.L.C. Take, for example, my wine. It had lost much grip of tannin, had very smooth, integrated flavors of fruit, earth, and oak...everything mingling together in perfect balance. Gone was a lot of the deep purple color seen in a younger wine, leaving a pretty, light ruby hue. Oh, and I forgot to mention: this was a 1996. Given was an opportunity to taste a wine from a not-terrible vintage with 14 years of age on it. What would you pay for this in France? $100? $200? Well, you're not going to pay $200. Or $100. You're not going to pay $90, or $80 (how's my Ron Popeil impersonation going so far?). The price of this wine? $29. Incredible value, and this is a brand that can be easily found and enjoyed.

And to many, $29 is not a reasonable price. You can get a Crianza or Reserva around $10-15. There are also some exciting non-DO wines (table wines without the stringent production laws) that are fantastic, and steals as well.

So, if you're wanting to keep knocking back great juice, but don't want to fork out the dough, do as your friendly neighborhood wino does: give Spain a try. Give the expensive California Cab a night off and go with something from the Iberian peninsula. Then, take the extra cash and buy some real shampoo. You may salvage your coif, unlike me.

(Bacchus' teat?! It's been a long week.)

Anyway, thanks to Raelinn Schmitt ( @raelinn_wine on Twitter and head honcho of Wine Ophelia), the simplistically brilliant idea of the Cheap Wine Challenge was created. The rules were minimal:

1) The wine can be found nationwide

2) The wine retails under $10

And so, the gauntlet was thrown down. I wanted in on this action. I was raised on the mean skreets of Carlo Rossi, son! But the Central Valley of California was not where I suspected to find gold dust. These days, when I think of value, I go straight to the Iberian peninsula, otherwise known as Spain and Portugal.

My pick- less by choice and more by necessity (I was out of town, but desired Iberian wine)- was 2007 Bodegas Luzon Jumilla. Jumilla is a region in southeast Spain. The red wines are most likely made from Monastrell (otherwise known as Mourvèdre), Cencibel (otherwise known as Tempranillo), and Garnacha (otherwise known as Grenache). This wine (otherwise known as vino) was purchased at an impressive Columbus, GA package store (otherwise known as southwest Georgia) while I was traveling for work (otherwise known as being a sucker). It retailed for $8.99 (otherwise known as 899 cents).

The nose was an all-out Battle Royale of raspberries, smoke, olives, chocolate, pepper, veggies, licorice, and mint. But the madness spilled out of the ring and into the crowd, aka, my mouth (what a terrible wrestling metaphor, but screw it, it's late). Decent, subtle fruit, earthiness, and acidity led to a smooth finish with a little bit of heat from the alcohol. I managed to acquire a nasty stuffed nose right after I opened the wine, so my senses were a little off. That being said, it tasted like it drank beyond the meager $9 pricetag.

In the end, it was nothing earth-shattering, but for $8.99, I will proudly submit it for approval in the Inaugural Cheap Wine Challenge. And, like a wrestler hopped up on too many performance enhancers, "I CHALLENGE YOU, BROTHER, TO BRING YOUR WINE TO THE TABLE AND SEE IT EXPERIENCE THE PAIN AND HUMILIATION OF THE 'DESTEMMER', BROTHER!"

Okay. I'm going to bed. This is ridiculous.

A beachside feast of redneck proportions. No, it's not the Franzia "Chillable Red", but the (sarcasm font) Vintner Select Merlot really had a boozy goodness that paired exquisitely with the cheddar-flavored goop, high in tasty fats. But were there Triscuits? You bet your sweet ass there were Triscuits (not pictured).

And so went beach-day Thursday. The canned wine phenomenon was in full effect, as my friends and (shamelessly- this was an experiment) myself indiscriminately consumed boxed wine from cans, allowing for maximum flailing of limbs and expressive hand-gestures...wine in a standard glass simply would not weather such flamboyance. Furthermore, a gaggle of out-of-shape guys playing horseshoes on the beach with glasses of wine in hand is- needless to say- disturbing at best. We were living a secret life of class and sophistication, slipping in and out of the fraternity of unsuspecting, beer-drinking beach dwellers.

Eventually, such significant disregard for personal well-being in this manner led to a need for sustenance beyond what a singular can of cheese whiz could provide. Having in my possession a 16" Lodge cast iron camp oven, a bag of fresh-caught red snapper from a friend, and a repressed urge to create, I went to work on a paella (or sorts) for the troops:

Seafood (Sort of) Paella:

2 lbs. Linguica, Chourico, or any other spicy cured sausage, in 1/2" slices

1 T Olive Oil

2 large Yellow Onions, chopped

3 Red Bell Peppers, sliced

8 cloves Garlic, minced

3 lbs. Red Snapper filets, or any flaky white fish

Blackened Fish seasoning

8 Plum Tomatoes, seeded an pureed

1 cup Dry White Wine

32 oz. Seafood Stock

2-3 tablespoons Spanish Paprika

2 lbs. Yellow Saffron Rice

2 lbs. 20-25 Shrimp, peeled and deveined

3 dozen Littleneck Clams, scrubbed

1 cup Italian Parsley, chopped

Salt and Pepper to taste

4) Add the fish (which has been coated in blackening seasoning) and brown in the hot fat for a minute or so on each side.

5) Add the wine to deglaze the pan. Scrape the tasty bits off the bottom with a wooden spoon.

6) Add the stock, tomato puree, and paprika. Bring to a boil.

7) Add the rice, parsley, clams, and shrimp, return to a boil.

8) Lid the pot, kill the heat, and let the rice steam for 20-25 minutes. DO NOT OPEN THE LID FOR ANY REASON!

9) Once the liquid is absorbed by the rice, fluff with a fork. Salt and Pepper to taste, and enjoy, my friends!

So, the reason I'm hesitant to call it "paella" is mostly because of the cooking technique. By nature, paellas are made with any sort of ingredients. But the namesake of the dish is based on the word for the pan itself. Usually, the rice on the bottom of the special pan is supposed to be a little burnt, creating a crunchy texture for the dish. Not having the pan handy, I improvised. Let's face it: everyone had been drinking canned wine all day. I didn't exactly get shaken down for bastardized technique.

For the wine, we thankfully put the Franzia on the shelf for a while and went with some Spanish whites:

René Barbier Catalunya Mediterranean White NV: a crisp, clean, high-acid white from the northwestern corner of Spain. Likely made from a combination of Macabeo, Parellada, and Xarel-Lo grapes, it citrus, mineral, and stone fruit flavors were refreshing. Oh, and it retails for about $6 (this is what I used for cooking as well)

Marqués de Cáceres 2007 Rioja: from the Rioja region of Spain (known for Tempranillo-based red wines), this white made from Viura grape (another name for Macabeo) had similar flavors, but with a little evidence of possible oak influence. The pricier of the two (barely), it retails for around $9.

Full of good food and good wine, the crowd naturally progressed to an inevitable dance party. The dance party- anchored by the funky sounds of Herbie Hancock- evolved into the "Gettin' Weird" dance off. At this point, would you expect anything less?

To gettin' weird: Cheers, Sláinte, L'Chaim, Salud, Prost, Skål, Konbe, Kampai, and Laissez les bon temps rouler!