“It is the only wine that takes light when a flame is applied to it” —Pliny the Elder

Lurking in the shadows of specialty wine stores, a bookish-type of wine geek methodically marks an “X” over each conquest on De Long’s table of 184 wine grape varietals. Some students of the vine have made a passion out of collecting obscure drinking experiences—Romorantin anyone?

Confessedly, I too occasionally buy wines solely based on their novelty. I find those initial sips and sniffs of an unusual wine comparable to cracking open the first pages of a new novel: I anticipate both the mystery of the story and the talent of the author. Ultimately, though, I prefer to believe that at the heart of wine appreciation is the satisfaction that comes from drinking and sharing them with friends.

Mindless drinking is never a good thing for myriad reasons. The potentially dangerous effects of consumption, i.e. overindulgence and alcoholism, are well known, but our purchasing power also has consequences. Our consumer dollars have a domino effect that extends far into the realm of socially viable issues such as vineyard worker’s rights or how winery waste affects the water table. What we buy drives the market and sends producers scrambling to the vineyards to plant more of whatever may be the grape of the day.

Contemplate, if you will, the consequences if everyone were to drink only chardonnay and cabernet sauvignon. The hundreds of other varietal wines would soon shrink from retail shelves, recede back into the shadows of their homelands, and Bacchus forbid, fade into oblivion. As an act of preserving viticultural diversity, I beseech all wine lovers to take up the gauntlet and fill your glass with something you’ve never tasted before.

When recommending wine to someone for the first time, I try to gauge his or her willingness to experiment in order to avoid a selection disaster. Only when I think I understand their likes and dislikes do I steer them away from the old standards. For example, frequently I am told by many white wine drinkers that, although they enjoy pinot grigio, they have recently become tired of the predictability. In the beginning, PG inspired them to plan romantic trips to Italian villages, but now it just feels like a wine for hanging out the wash. June, once a startling beauty, finds herself weepy over the “grey” grape—a bedraggled oenophile badly in need of a splash of color.

Pinot grigio (Italian) or gris (French for “grey”) is the mutant sister of pinot noir and derives its name from the hue of its pinkish brown to grey-blue skin. Pinot gris from Oregon and Alsace, France, tend to be bolder, slightly fuller-bodied versions of their Italian counterparts. For many white wine drinkers, Pinot grigio is a workhorse—the macaroni of wines. If a customer tells me that they readily enjoy pinot grigio or the spaghetti house red, Montepulciano, then I might suggest further exploration of the grapes of Italy.

Italy, notable for its breathtaking number of grape varieties, leads the list of wine regions to seek out for a break from the ordinary. Producing red and white varieties of particular distinction is the Campania region in southwest Italy. Renown in the ancient world for the greatness of its wines, Campania was home to the much-coveted Falernian, a costly white wine, enthusiastically imbibed by the Roman elites who could afford its hefty price. Pliny the Elder, author of the encyclopedia Natural History, dedicated an entire volume to wine in which he refers to the high alcohol content of toothsome Falernian: “It is the only wine that takes light when a flame is applied to it.”

Falanghina is the ancient grape that once comprised the base of Falernian. While not recommended as a substitute for lighter fluid, I wholeheartedly endorse drinking this refreshing white wine. Falanghina is, amazingly, still produced in Campania; although not found in great numbers, it is widely available in retails stores across the US.

On the “Wine Lovers Page,” a web-based wine journal, Robin Garr attractively describes his tasting of a 2004 Falanghina from the adept producer Feudi di San Gregorio: “Clear light gold in color, this classically styled Falanghina offers attractive aromas of white fruit, banana oil and toasted almonds. Fresh and full, good body and texture, flavors follow the nose with mouth-watering acidity to provide texture.”

Peach, lemon, and apples are also typical flavors found in a young, vibrant Falanghina. While some whites are best aged, the rule of thumb, especially when trying a wine for the first time, is to seek out the freshest vintage available. Other reliable producers, providing worthy expressions of this grape, are Terredora, Cantina del Taburno, and Villa Matilde (Fallerno del Massico Bianco). Also good news—the prices range from $10-20 for a top-notch bottle of Falanghina.

As long as we are extolling the fruits of Campania, I will mention one other “F” word for you to flaunt on the next visit to your local wine store. Fiano d’Avellino, “vine beloved of bees,” is also grown in the volcanic soils of Avellino just a short distance from Mount Vesuvius. Fiano is a substantial dry white wine, gratifying to those who prefer a fuller style, similar in weight to California chardonnay. Age-worthy and less delicate than pinot grigio, Fiano coats the palate with its honeyed texture and tantalizing flavors reminiscent of spicy, roasted nuts or nutmeg laced piecrust. Creeping up a bit in cost, Fiano, from one of the producers previously mentioned, tends to cost $15-30 a bottle. Well worth the price tag, Fiano d’Avellino and Falanghina afford one the novel opportunity to sample wine made from ancient varietals.

For a slightly more voluptuous style, try Campania’s beautifully aromatic Greco di Tufo. Greco is generally a full-bodied white with an abundance of tropically perfumed flavors—apricot, pineapple, and juicy, ripe pears. With a more opulent texture than Campania’s two “F” wines, Greco works particularly well with yellow Thai coconut curry dishes.

Primarily a white wine region, Campania is not without its celebrity reds. Aglianico is a powerhouse of a wine and may be southern Italy’s greatest red. Greek in origin, until the 16th century Aglianico was known as “Ellenico.” Sometimes referred to as the “Barolo” of the south, Aglianico is inky-black in the glass, a full-bodied wine built for long-term aging. This spicy red delivers the flavor of dark cherries coated in bitter chocolate. Aglianico is often noted for its earthy elements: smoke, black pepper, graphite, iron, and other dark, dark things.

Taurasi is the best known area for Aglianico, although other good examples are produced in Basilicata and carry the name Aglianico del Vulture. Prices start around $10 and go upward. World-renown producer Mastroberardino has been a driving force in the revival of the ancient vineyards of Campania. Rather than pursuing internationally trendy wines like merlot or chardonnay, Mastroberardino and other traditionalists replanted ancient varieties in the volcanic ash spewed out by Mt. Vesuvius some 2,000 years ago. The debris that once covered the city of Pompeii now provides extraordinary soil for grape vines. Mastroberardino’s flagship wine, Radici, is a benchmark example of Aglianico. In addition to the previously mentioned producers, Vestini and Caggiano are also reputable names.

Now that you’ve filled your basket with alternative wines from Campania, one of Italy’s most unpretentious wine regions, may I interest you in a glass of the star-bright Roussette de Savoie? Or maybe an aromatic red like Mencía from Bierzo, Spain? You may rest assured that your interest in the obscure will not go unnoticed. When the sale charts are tallied and retailers make their buying decisions, perhaps there will be an extra Falanghina or two between the rows of pinot grigio.