When I first plunged into wine writing, I came from a food perspective. My career began 30 years ago as a food writer and restaurant reviewer. Wine was a literal afterthought on both my editor’s and my part.

Before taking on my new job as food columnist and restaurant reviewer for a small weekly on the West Coast, my wife and I went bicycling in Europe for three months.Upon my return,I stopped into the editor’s office for a “Hi, honey, I’m home” greeting.

“What do you know about wine?” he asked.”Not a thing,” I replied.”It comes in red, white, and pink. And, really, that’s all I know.”

I wasn’t kidding. I don’t think I had literally ever pulled a cork from a bottle up to that moment.The wine we drank in France after a day’s cycling was exclusively the sort sold in groceries identified by the alcohol level: douze degres, treize degres.The stuff with corks was too expensive and, we figured, qualitatively beyond us anyway.

“Why are you asking me this?” I inquired suspiciously.”We did a mockup of the new food page and we put in something called Wine of the Week,” the editor said. “Advertisers liked the idea. So you’re writing it.”

“But I don’t know anything about wine!” I protested, quite accurately.

“That’s all right,”came the breezy reply.”Neither does anyone else.”

This is how I came to wine. I was one sip ahead of some readers and gallons behind others. But I learned fast because, especially back then, wine wasn’t so complicated. A quick swot, as the Brits would say, about grand and premier cru Burgundy, classed growth red Bordeaux, how the French made Champagne (no one else did, effectively), and voila!, you were a wine expert. California was only just inventing itself and Italy was still epitomized by a bottle of Chianti in a woven straw wrapping.

They were simple times (thank heaven). And in the provincial reaches where I worked, where the chilled salad fork was seen as the height of dining refinement, I was safe.

Later, after devoting myself exclusively to wine, I was surprised to learn that my fellow wine writers did not come from the food world. Many of them, in fact, were former sports writers.This was a shocker. They talked (and wrote) about wine as if they were trading baseball cards.

There’s still, to this day, a major divide between the food and wine worlds.You might be astonished to discover how little many food writers (and chefs) know about wine.And how little many wine writers know about food.

This, of course, is a pity. And I shall try to redress it this week with – brace yourself – a simple recipe.See what I mean? It’s almost shocking to find a recipe in wine column. But I promise you, the pairings I propose are delicious – and the dish is a breeze to make and a perfect summer appetizer.But please, no chilled salad fork.

HERE’S THE … RECIPE

PEPERONE ROSSO CON RIPIENO DI TONNO (Sweet Red Pepper with Tuna Stuffing)

When I lived in Piedmont, researching a cookbook, this became one of my favorite dishes. It’s simple to make, plumped with flavor, and I’ve yet to have a guest who didn’t love it.

Here’s what you do: Figure on one large sweet red (or yellow) pepper per person. Trim the stems and place the pepper, stem side down, on a baking sheet. Bake in a preheated 375-degree oven for 45 minutes. Remove from the oven and let cool completely.

When cool, peel the skin completely from the pepper (it comes right off, like a week-old sunburn). Carefully open one side of the pepper so that it lays out flat. Remove all the seeds. Set aside.

Take a large can of solid white tuna fish (the best you can find), drain it, and put the tuna in a food processor or blender. Add one tablespoon each of butter and good olive oil, and a grind of black pepper. Process for three to four minutes until the texture is velvety. Taste for salt and process again if necessary to blend.

Place the pepper flat on chopping board. Divide it in half vertically so that each section is vaguely rectangular. Plop a tablespoon or so of the tuna puree on each section and roll it up to create a tuna-stuffed cylinder. Trim any ragged edges. Place on a plate and refrigerate to firm up the filling. Serve cool, but not cold. Finish the dish with a simple sauce of finely chopped fresh basil mixed with good olive oil. Spoon the sauce over the top of each roll. Serve two rolls per person.

Now, what to drink? Red wine is the ticket. All sorts work. Last week I served this with a great dry Lambrusco. (Yes, Lambrusco can be great.) Look for one called Concerto 2004 from Medici Ermete. It’s spectacularly good, with intense color and substantial fruit, yet remains utterly dry and restrained. Serve it cool, but not cold. $18.

Barbera d’Alba or barbera d’Asti are always winners. Look for barberas from Vietti, Giacomo Conterno, Aldo Conterno, Bruno Giacosa, Elio Grasso, Giorgio Rivetti, Renato Ratti, and Vajra, among others. Serve slightly cool.

Also, a good cabernet franc from the Loire Valley would be ideal. Or a good rose. But nothing too fancy, OK? This is a summer dish and the style should be easygoing, even adventurous.