Maryland wineries have grape expectations

FREDERICK COUNTY, MD. -- Before touring the wineries of Frederick County, my wife, Jan, and I mull two potential hazards: the drinking and the driving.

Though we are not snobs, we know the difference between good wine and bad. Our first concern is that the wine might taste dreadful. We live in Maryland, but we know zip about the state's wines or its wineries. Crabs, yes; cabs, no.

Our second concern is how to sample the wares at one establishment and drive soberly to the next. We solve that by making an overnight of it at a Frederick motel and by taking very, very small sips of various wines, buying bottles of the ones we like and saving them for choice moments. Maybe uncorking one later in the evening, when we are reading Pablo Neruda's "Ode to Wine" together: "Day-colored wine,/ night-colored wine,/ wine with purple feet/ or wine with topaz blood."

The newly emerging wine country east and northeast of Frederick, 50 miles northwest of Washington, is rolling and lovely, even in the gray drear of winter. There is a romantic poetry in the starkness, leafless trees and omnipresent birds silhouetted against the sky. And because the wineries are open year-round, there is more time to learn about the craft. Besides, wine can warm the coldest heart.

Our first stop of the day is Linganore Winecellars near New Market. Joanne Lachance, the amiable, unpretentious tasting-room manager, tells us of the vineyard's first planting in 1972 by Jack and Lucille Aellen and of the traditions that have been handed down. The tasting room is a spacious, well-lighted, remodeled part of a giant old peg barn that also houses the company's winemaking and bottling contraptions.

We stand at a counter while Joanne pours tiny fingers of the dry White Raven into one glass and a sweeter Terrapin White into another. Here and there are plates of oyster crackers for palate-cleansing. Through picture windows we can see some of the 300 or so barrels where the reds and the chardonnay are aging. As we taste, other people flow in and out. One woman samples the merlot, which won the 2005 Maryland Governor's Cup for best wine. The wines range from $10 to $24 a bottle.

The White Raven, Joanne says, "is really a semi-dry. Not as dry as a chardonnay."

She's right. She rinses out my glass and pours a deep red. Jan likes the dessert wines. On the tasting sheet she checks Steeple Chase Red, a softer wine.

Joanne says it goes great with chocolates. Take a swig and "you'll forget about any troubles you ever had."

Never use ice cubes to chill wine, she says. Use frozen grapes.

We feel like frozen grapes as she shows us the vast vats in a chilly room in the back of the barn. This is the aging room where the fruity and sweet wines are stored. We stand beneath a row of towering, shimmering stainless-steel Albrigi tanks. Some hold 13,200 liters each. We pass a pallet of 50-pound bags of sugar. Joanne explains the winemaking process. The company buys most of its grapes from area growers and gets the rest from the nearly 50 acres of its own vines on the premises.

Joanne has premises to keep, and we have miles to go before we sleep. So we buy a bottle of the cabernet sauvignon and a Terrapin White and ask for directions to Loew Vineyards, a few miles away on Route 26.

Ahead of the curve

Things are changing in Maryland. By the end of the year, there should be more than 20 wineries open in the state. By contrast, Virginia has nearly 100. But we feel like we may be ahead of the curve by discovering Maryland wines before they become cool.

The Nobel laureate again: