AS A WINE proletarian and a member of the vulgaroisie, I expected to be called out at any moment. Admittedly, I only had myself to blame. I'd agreed to attend a tasting of the Argentine wines of Familia Zuccardi Winery held at Zingari, an elegant yet cozy restaurant just upstairs from the Hotel Donatello lobby. Looking at a map display and discussing the Andean snowmelt that fed the region, I felt like a rookie narc on my first undercover assignment surveying the jungle lair of some coca kingpin. Perhaps, in a sense, I was ... Disguised as a "member of the press," wearing slacks, highly polished dress shoes, and a linen sport coat, I nodded sagely whenever the experts tossed out an obscure bit of wine lore. In short, I was an interloper.

Being raised in the Midwest formed my initial taste in alcohol. Like the farm economy of the region, my preferences were entirely grain based. Wheat, barley, and rye meant beer, whiskey, and vodka. Wine was an entirely different universe. Going beyond a basic knowledge of the innumerable varieties of wine throughout the world and understanding the nuances of their differences is a serious undertaking. Don't get me wrong – I'll be the first person at the bacchanal, but Bacchus was a boozer, not a talker. I love wine, but not enough to double the cost of my meal and not enough to pore over topographic maps discussing the minutiae of elevation and soil composition. Such things can be important in the production of wine, but I prefer to let the wine speak for itself. I'm a wine drinker, not a wine worshiper. I tend to be inclusive rather than exclusive by nature, and I eschew those who indulge in frippery of any sort.

Upon arriving at Zingari, I was introduced to José Zuccardi, son of the founder of Familia Zuccardi Winery, Don Alberto Zuccardi. An irrigation specialist, Don Zuccardi founded the winery in 1963 when he bought a small acreage and planted a vineyard to demonstrate his system. It was a fortuitous event for all because the area around the Mendoza region (primarily desert land at the foot of the Andes) is reliant on irrigation for farming of any kind. Italian by birth, Zuccardi had a passion for wine, and soon the vineyard began to grow to its present size of more than 1,200 planted acres, with more on the way. In 1985, José joined his father after training in chemical engineering and enology and took over the day-to-day business of what has become one of the largest and most technologically advanced family-owned wineries in Argentina. All fruit is handpicked and the wines are all estate grown and produced, and there are plans afoot to have it all done organically within the next several years.

The nine wines I tasted were bottled under the Santa Julia and Familia Zuccardi "Q" labels and showcase the varied history of Argentina's winemaking and the European influences of its French, Spanish, and Italian grapes. José Zuccardi claims Argentina is traditionally a wine-drinking culture but allows that the production, consumption, and wider appreciation of fine wines in Argentina is a relatively recent phenomenon.

The Santa Julia bottles are all affordable, ranging in price from $7.99 to $9.99. Admittedly, I'm more of a red wine drinker, and it's tough to go wrong with either the 2001 Santa Julia Malbec Reserva or the 2002 Santa Julia Malbec, though the additional aging of the Reserva makes it a bit mellower and $1 more expensive. Originally a French grape, the Malbec has thrived in Argentina and has yielded some of its most consistent wines. In a nod to Zuccardi's Italian heritage, there's also the 2002 Santa Julia Sangiovese, which is a bit lighter than the Malbec, with tastes of raspberry and red fruit. Then there are the adventurous Santa Julia whites: Torrontes, Viognier ("Vee-on-yay" had me stumped the first time, too), and Chardonnay, all 2002. Although name recognition will likely sell more Chardonnay in the U.S. market, check out the others, especially the Torrontes. Like the red Malbec, the grape of the floral-scented and fruity Torrontes has been in the region longer than some varietals and has consequently developed its own character.

Q wines are Familia Zuccardi's premium export offerings and are all in the $20 range. The two wines tasted from the Q label were both from 2000 and both reds, one Malbec, the other Temperanillo. Of the two, the Temperanillo stood out for its bold flavor. I had the chance to do a side-by-side comparison, and while the Malbec was a good drink, the Temperanillo was surprisingly rich and unique (likely due to its oak aging), with notes of chocolate and spice and a mouth-filling finish.

Finally, over dessert we tasted the 2002 Santa Julia Tardio (Late Harvest Torrontes). Zuccardi was the first Argentine winemaker to produce a dessert wine, and the Tardio, a blend of Torrontes and Viognier, is excellent. It is perfectly sweet and smells of pear and citrus, while on the tongue it has the consistency of warmed honey. Many dessert wines are pricey, but at $12.99 a bottle, this one is a great option.

There is no shortage of excellent, unpretentious wine out there. If you find yourself caught up in the lunacy of California wine culture, flee. Head out to Muir Beach for the sunset, uncork a reasonably priced bottle like the 2001 Santa Julia Malbec Reserva, relax, and pour a little out for the homies that ain't there. It beats bantering with the sommelier at Rubicon in a Thurston Howell accent.