The next time you feel like complaining about the weird laws surrounding alcohol in the Mountain State, be thankful you don’t live in that land of plenty just to the north of us.

To say that wine, beer and liquor laws in Pennsylvania are complicated and restrictive would be an epic understatement.
In fact, getting a bottle of hooch was probably easier and less complicated during Prohibition than it is in the Keystone state today.

But now bureaucrats in Harrisburg have devised a new method of getting wine (which, like liquor, can only be purchased in state stores) to thirsty Pitt and Penn State fans. They’re making it available in vending machines in selected supermarkets. Sounds great, right? Here’s how it works.

After selecting a wine from among the more than 50 bottles available in the machine, customers must insert a driver’s license into the kiosk proving they are at least 21 years old. Next, a camera in the machine verifies their identity via video link with a state liquor control board official. If that’s not complicated enough, customers then must blow into a breathalyzer to make sure their alcohol level is not more than 0.02, or just one quarter of the legal limit for driving.

Why not require a birth certificate, immunization card or, at least, a note from your dentist attesting to fact you don’t have trench mouth? Our brethren from Pennsylvania have taken a pretty neat customer convenience idea and complicated it to the point of bureaucratic absurdity.

The French, however, have added a true wine customer convenience device that I would like to see here in the good old U. S. of A. sometime soon. They actually are installing 500 and 1000 liter wine self-serve tanks in supermarkets around France. The tanks look like gasoline pumps where consumers fill their own reusable bottles and jugs (or they buy containers at the store), and then use the self-serve hoses to fill them up.

It’s pretty simple too. You just select your wine type (red, white or rose), pump it into the container and take the printed receipt to the checkout counter where you pay. Now, obviously these pumps are not going to be dispensing Chateau Lafite, but for everyday sipping, in a country that takes its wine drinking seriously, this is about as good and convenient as it gets.

French Wine Dispensing Tank

Until we get vending machines or wine dispensing pumps, we’ll have to settle for the old tried and true method of purchasing our wines from shops and grocery stores. Here are some bottles you may wish to acquire in this traditional method.

2007 Masciarelli Montepulciano ($10.99) Soft and supple, this red will marry nicely with pizza topped with fresh tomatoes, olive oil and fresh mozzarella.

2009 Paitin Langhe Arneis ($18.99) One of the most famous white wines of Italy’s Piedmont region, arneis is delicate, somewhat spritzy and fruit forward. Try it with mussels poached in some of the arneis along with a little chopped garlic.

2007 Cantele Primitivo ($15.99) Full and rich, this zinfandel-like red will match up nicely with lasagna in a spicy red sauce.

2008 Alois Lageder Pinot Grigio ($19.99). This pinot grigio is a fuller-bodied version of this popular white from northern Italy. With flowery and somewhat spicy notes, try it with penne pasta in a basil pesto sauce.

Since I am able to trace one-half of my ancestry back to southern Italy, I am prone to wax poetically from time to time about the tasteful treats emanating from that remarkable boot-shaped peninsula bisecting the Mediterranean and Adriatic Seas.

And while it would be a gross oversight to disregard Italy’s contributions to art, culture and, indeed, Western civilization, my interest in the country has always been squarely focused on food and wine, along with the warm and talented people who produce those exceptional products.

My maternal grandparents landed at Ellis Island in the late 19th Century, following others from their home state of Calabria to north-central West Virginia. After more than 15 years working in the mines, my grandfather built a bakery in the North View section of Clarksburg that, to this day, my cousins continue to operate.

Sunday family dinners at my grandparents’ home, replete with dozens of cousins, aunts and uncles, are happily and indelibly seared in my memory. Those Calabrian-inspired feasts, washed down with jugs  of home made red wine, would begin shortly after noon and proceed until early evening.

Once the multi-course meal was completed, the adults would insist that we children provide the postprandial entertainment. As our elders sat sipping vino or grappa, we would sing, recite poetry and/or perform little skits to our always appreciative audience.

Grandma, Grandpa and the Sunday dinner clan

One of my occasional duties on those Sundays decades ago was to descend into the earthen-walled, dark, dank and spooky basement to fetch a jug of wine from one of the oak barrels in my grandpa’s cellar.

I would rush down the steps, open the door to wine cellar, and pull the string on the single hanging light bulb to illuminate the room. Then I would turn the spigot on the barrel, quickly fill the jug and hurry back upstairs, hoping to avoid any contact with creepy crawlers or poltergeists.

Once, in my haste to complete the task, I inadvertently filled the jug from the wrong barrel – one containing vinegar. My grandpa, anxious to toast that day’s meal, poured himself a glass, uttered the words “Salute” and took a big sip of the vinegar.

Suffice it to say, the next words out of his mouth were  unprintable, but I was no longer asked to fetch the wine on Sunday.

We still keep the tradition in our family of gathering for Sunday dinner and many of the recipes I’ve recounted to you over the years have been versions of meals from those halcyon days. I’ll even open a bottle or two of my home made wine on occasion.

And while I do not (intentionally) make vinegar, some not so subtle individuals, after tasting my home made wine, suggest that  I have killed two birds with one stone!