My late uncle was an artist of uncommon physical talents. Really, he was a near genius in his technical ability. But he never became, in my otherwise adoring opinion, a great artist because he lacked the courage of painful insight. Throughout his life people would look at, say, a Picasso and say to him, “You could do that.” He would reply, “If I could have, I would have.”

I think of this whenever I hear winemakers say they can make a better wine by blending. Upon hearing it, I know immediately that they are not in possession of a great vineyard growing a great grape.

Now, there are good commercial reasons for blending. On a large scale it’s a matter of ensuring sufficient supply. A single vineyard is hardly going to crank out hundreds of thousands of cases. Bigness demands blending.

Then there are climatological reasons. Bordeaux, for example, is subject to cool, rainy autumns, just when grapes are about to be harvested. You’re well-advised in Bordeaux to hedge your bets by growing several different varieties such as merlot, cabernet franc, petit verdot, and cabernet sauvignon, each of which ripens at a different moment. If your late-ripening cabernet sauvignon is harried by fall rains, it can be augmented by the rich softness of the more early-maturing merlot.

Above all, only a few grapes reward a solo act. They are so complete in their attributes that they’re actually diminished by another grape rushing to its aid. Blending such grapes – pinot noir, nebbiolo, riesling, cabernet sauvignon in the best sites – is like putting Pavarotti in the chorus. Blending is not merely superfluous, it’s blasphemous.

Most winemakers, like most artists, aren’t in possession of such rare goods to make such wines. Because if they could have, they would have.

HERE’S THE DEAL

RIESLING “CUVEE FREDERIC EMILE” 2000, TRIMBACH This is a dry white wine from an extraordinary vintage for which the word “thrilling” is not an exaggeration. I have probably tasted 30 vintages of Cuvee Frederic Emile, and I’m hard-pressed to think of a young version of this wine better than this vintage 2000 bottling.

Trimbach is one of the great names of France’s Alsace region. Like other shippers in the area, Trimbach offers a good-size lineup of wines, all worthy. But their best wines are, quelle surprise, the single vineyard – sometimes two contiguous vineyards combined – bottlings such as Trimbach’s signature riesling called Clos Ste. Hune ($150) and a superb gewurztraminer called Cuvee des Seigneurs de Ribeaupierre ($35; the 2000 vintage is glorious, by the way).

Trimbach’s Cuvee Frederic Emile riesling comes from two contiguous vineyards, Geisberg and Osterberg, both designated grand cru. The resulting wine is immensely stony-tasting and dense with classic dry riesling scents and tastes of citrus, honey, and what the British call “petrol notes.” All this is only just emerging now, six years after the vintage. And I can tell you that, based on older vintages, this wine will continue to grow more resonant and dimensional over the next 10 years.

This is a dry riesling that you can serve not just with fish, but with chicken, pork, veal, and many spicy sausages as well. It’s one of the greatest dry rieslings made today. The price, for such distinction, is improbably low: $35. Inevitably, there’s not much of a wine like this, but it’s well distributed at the moment.

PETALOS “BIERZO” 2004, J. PALACIOS One of the superstars of Spanish wine is Alvaro Palacios. Born into a Rioja wine family, as a young man Mr. Palacios studied winemaking at Bordeaux’s famed Chateau Petrus and returned to Spain determined to create truly great wine. And he didn’t do it in Rioja, either.

Instead, Mr. Palacios helped pioneer the Priorat district south of Barcelona, where his single-vineyard bottling called Clos L’Ermita (made from grenache) sells for $300 a bottle. After having triumphed in Priorat, he turned his sights to the northwest corner of Spain, specifically to the Bierzo district.

Bierzo is home to the mencia grape variety, a red grape that was effectively unknown to the larger wine world until very recently. What’s interesting about mencia is that it shows every promise of performing beautifully as a soloist, needing no support or augmentation from other grape varieties. That such a singularly luminous grape variety could have been hidden for so long under the bushel of obscurity is extraordinary.

Petalos is Alvaro Palacios’s entry-level mencia. Here we have a single grape variety sourced, in this case, from multiple vineyards rather than the pinnacle of a single great site. (Surely that’s coming.)

Made from vines between 40 and 90 years old rooted in slate-rich soil, this mencia wine is dense, suffused with a slightly medicinal, licorice-tinged flavor with an unmistakable mineral edge. It fairly begs for red meats. The texture is lush, with an almost liquorous mouth feel. This is an exceptional red wine from a superstar producer selling for what can only be called (given its quality and the fame of the producer) a surprisingly low price: $15.95. This is worth hunting down.