A crazy quilt round-up of this month’s wine-ing. No transitions provided.

Texier 2004 Vieilles Vignes Châteauneuf du Pape Blanc ($36) - I won’t kid yous guys, I never can see paying the money for CDP white. This is one of my wine blind spots and the one Frenchie category where I can find something as tasty for much cheaper from the new world. I know, big words. But… the buttery, round, rich/light flavors of this wine almost make me a believer.

Texier 2004 Côtes du Rhône Rouge ($12) - Mainly grenache, pretty and juicy and plenty of tart strawberry. I like my wines from this region to taste like real fruit, not Jolly Ranchers. Real fruit (red and black) is mostly not sweet, blackberries, raspberries, plums. Elementary, I know. But you’d be surprised.

Texier 2004 Brézene Rouge ($15) - All syrah, a medium heavy flavor of dark plum and black cherry, soft acidity, and balanced tannins across your tongue from start to finish, like fingertips on velvet.

Texier 2004 St. Gervais Côtes du Rhône “Cadinnieres” ($19) - Old vine grenache, I mean ooooooooold. All those long tentacles of vine, cracking through all those nooks and crannies, picking up all sorts of adjectives that fall in the category of minerality. But on top, you still get that luscious red strawberry/raspberry perfumed fruit.

Texier 2004 Vieilles Vignes Côte-Rotie ($58) - Mmmm, I smell bacon. And pepper. And, is that fennel? As boisterous as this wine is aroma-wise, it’s nothing but soft furry kittens upon entry. Not that I eat kittens. It’s just soft like kittens. But it still tastes like berries. Uh, you get the idea. Eric said, “It’s only 12% alcohol, and very old school. So probably a 55 or 56 points from Parker. (beat) Maybe 57.” I love this guy! I give it a 95, it’s got a great beat and I can see eating some big game with it.

Texier 2004 Châteauneuf du Pape Rouge ($36)- In the very best way, this wine reminded me of a high-end fancy Valpolicella I had recently. Maybe it was the full-figured red cherry and tar spiked fruit. Maybe it was that dusty, soft earthiness that you barely catch a whiff of each time you sip.

Texier “Ô Pâle” Mout de Raisins Partiellement Fermente ($20) - Sooo, partially fermented Roussanne grape juice: unripe banana, baked nectarines, honey, all the crazy things that are flowering in my backyard right now, almonds, did I say honey? An off-dry, no sweet, wine that has a core of acid to hold it all up. (Texier wines from Louis/Dressner Selections

Pay a visit and read my most recent little dittie in the Seattle Weekly, about Long Drinks. I talk about rethinking your mixer, offer a few tweaks for high octane cocktails, and share my beverage choice for summer 2006. Let the season of ice cold beverages begin.

I hit the Sauvignon Blanc hard this time of year. I don’t often have the funds to partake, but I find Sancerre one of the most beautiful whites in the world, this 2004 Domaine Vacheron (imported by North Berkeley Imports, $21) in particular. I like thirst quenching whites. I know that’s a base term when it comes to wine, but no less apropos. 2004 in Sancerre was a more typical year than the 2003 vintage which produced uncharacteristic fruit bombs from this chilly, fringe region.

Sancerre should smell and taste like high acid fruit: grapefruit, green apples, or lime. It should smell minerally–like wet stones, chalk, flint or celery. (This is a good thing, trust me. LIMEstone soils cause this.)

This wine tastes of pink grapefruit when you first sip it, then causes the back of your mouth to water from its acidity. Wine words to describe it: bright, racey, clean, mineral-laced.

A wine like this goes best with foods that have acid, but it can balance out rich food too. Think goat cheese or a lemon caper sauce on one hand, or buttery scallops and cream soups on the other.

I think it goes best with my patio.

I sat on my clean porch, looking at my freshly shorn yard and opened a bottle of Librandi Duca Sanfelice ($16), from the Ciro region of Italy (just past the ball of the foot, the instep actually). The grape is gaglioppo which I consider to be like Piedmont’s Nebbiolo, only with a suntan. Dried black cherry and little, teeny whiffs of smells you might find on an antipasti tray: olive, rosemary, cured meats, and a bit of peppery spice. This is a lipsmacking red. You want to keep smelling it, it’s free and easy and interesting and natural and makes you feel good, like a beautiful Italian woman sitting next to you in a piazza laughing at all of your jokes. It makes me hungry. (Librandi imported by www.winebow.com)

I hate antibiotics.