Last week, I hopped in the car and high-tailed it outta 90-plus-degree Dodge (yes, I am still complaining about the heat, and yes, I do realize it is summer; sue me!) on assignment for Edible Manhattan. The story I’m writing (or, more appropriately, am procrastinating on writing, as here I am blogging instead) is about traversing Long Island Wine Country's outstanding vineyards—and, of course, drinking what I will unwaveringly deem its very good wine.  

Oddly, it’s taken a really long time—about 40 years now—for the region on the whole to be taken seriously. Not that it hasn’t earned some serious praise along the way—certainly, from its very beginning in the early 70s when Louisa and Alex

Hargrave took 66 acres, a U.C. Davis textbook, and a whole lot of faith, inspiration, and idealism to plant the first commercial vineyards out there, the wines were considered (and, even lauded) by the pen-scribbling wine cognoscenti. But still, even California had to struggle to be taken seriously (hello, Judgment of Paris!), as does any emerging wine region that attempts to grab for its place at the prime-wine-region table. [Sidenote to grape-curious: for some pretty great reading on either of those topics, check out The Vineyard for Louisa's account of being a young vine-crazy pioneer and Napa by James Conaway, which puts a whole lot in perspective, going back to the time when untouchable Napa was just a bunch of table grapes and nut orchards.]

This doesn’t surprise me so much—after all, once a particular wine is deemed at the very least to have been crafted with care and effort, it’s a subjective topic. I can tell you all, I like this, or that wine is fantastic and why I think so, but if you sip it and don’t dig it, well… then it’s not a good wine for you. I say tomato, you say tom-ah-to. 

But here's my point today: Why, when it comes to food and wine pairing, do so many diners call the whole thing off? The press gives restaurants a lot of flack for this, and while I agree that there are places that have a lazy wine program, I often hear another side to the story; that the “customer doesn’t ask for it.” I’m not saying we should all cease drinking our favorite bottles from the Rhone, the Russian River, and Rioja, but… would it kill ya to try the wine of your own area? You might be surprised; it might be great. I’ve found spectacular wine in Texas, Virginia, Arizona, Oregon, Washington, and New Mexico—seriously!  Pretty much every state is making vino these days. I’m stoked that so many of us are hell-bent on hitting up our weekend farmers’ markets and checking the provenance of our produce and meat and dairy choices; but don’t forget about the vino, folks. Those are grapes, after all. And they had to grow somewhere, too. What grows together, goes together.

Speech over. Go forth and eat something great! 

Have you tried the wine of your region, and if you have, do you dig it?

Long Island Lobster Stew a la Chef John Ross (from the book Long Island Wine Country)

Serves 4

• 4 1/4-lb lobsters
• 2 TBSP olive oil
• 1/4 cup brandy
• 1 cup diced onion
• 1 TBSP minced garlic
• 1 cup diced leek
• 1 cup diced red pepper
• 1 cup diced green pepper
• 1 sprig fresh thyme
• 1 bay leaf
• 2 cups heavy cream
• Coarse salt and fresh pepper
• 4 ears corn
• 8 small, red potatoes

Herb-butter garnish

• 1/4 lb unsalted butter
• 1 tsp minced garlic
• 1 TBSP chopped Italian parsley, plus more for garnish
• 1 TBSP fresh thyme
• 1 TBSP lemon juice

Split the lobsters and remove claws. Discard the head sacs and scrape out the tomalley and coral into a small bowl. Boil the claws in water until just cooked (about 10 minutes). Set aside.

Heat olive oil in a large sauté pan and place the lobster bodies in it, shell side down. Cook until the shells turn red and the meat is opaque. Pour brandy over them and ignite. Remove lobsters from the pan to cool, reserving pan and drippings.

Take meat out of lobster shells and claws and cut it into bite-sized pieces. Place all shells in a pan and cover with water. Bring to a boil and simmer for 30 minutes before straining. Reduce this liquid to about 1 cup.

To the pan with the lobster drippings, add onion, garlic, and leek. Saute until soft and add red and green peppers. Add the reduced lobster stock, sprig of thyme, and bay leaf. Simmer until peppers are tender, then add heavy cream. Add coarse salt and ground pepper to taste and remove from heat.

Shuck corn and gril the ears (over charcoal if possible). Scrape off the kernels and add them to the lobster broth. Boil the potatoes, cut them in half, and add them to the broth. Chop the tomalley and coral and add both to the broth. Bring back to a simmer and add the lobster meat.

To make the garnish, add garlic, parsley, thyme, and lemon juice to softened butter. Stir until combined and mold into a cylinder on a piece of aluminum foil. Wrap the cylinder and refrigerate until firm. When ready to serve, slice into rounds.

Ladle the stew into shallow bowls and top each with a round of herb-butter. Sprinkle with Italian parsley and serve with some nice, crusty bread.

Pair with a full-bodied, utterly delicious Long Island Chardonnay (or your favorite representation of the grape).

Amy Zavatto has been writing about wine, spirits, and food for ten years. Her work appears in Imbibe, Gotham, and Every Day with Rachael Ray, among others. She is the author of The Complete Idiot's Guide to Bartending and the co-author of The Renaissance Guide to Wine & Food Pairing.