My brother is rather fond of what we call "Willy Hill" wines. Being a devoted fan, he brought a bottle of the Napa chardonnay to the yearly family lobster feed we host at my house. Dinner was already running 45 minutes late, as is always the case when I'm cooking 20 lobsters with mussels, corn and sausages in a houseful of people who "help" by keeping my wine glass full (sometimes it takes a tag team of three to keep up). Anyway, as dinner was clearly still 20 minutes away (the lobbies were rattling the pot's lid), we in the kitchen let out an audible groan as the last of the "cooking" wine dribbled from the pinot grigio magnum into my glass.

Hearing the telltale groan from the other room, my brother instinctively sprinted to the cooler to remedy the situation he knew was playing itself out in the steamy kitchen. It's important to note that anyone-family or stranger-who pops into our thirsty midst with a chilled bottle of wine is well on their way to sainthood. If the wine is good, your canonization is a lock. Thank you, Saint Erle.

After the pinot grigio, the first golden-hued sip tasted like a bite of butterscotch cream pie. A swish and spit of club soda later, the dairy impression settled into the role of a dedicated companion for the apple-laced apricot flavors. A stealthy acid that had been absent in the front two-thirds of the flavor profile showed up at the end to dance a waltz with a soft toasty oak impression. Had it made it to the table, it would have been stunning with the sweet butter swaddled lobster.

Craig Pierce, clubhouse manager of Baker Hill Golf Club in Newbury, can be reached at This email address is being protected from spam bots, you need Javascript enabled to view it