In tasting newly released wines, I try to be a proxy for you, the reader. But last week, I failed in that role. It happened, during a tasting of Italian wines selected by the importer Marc di Grazia. My Waterloo was the preview of the Barolo 2003 vintage, due to begin arriving in April. At any age, Barolo, one of the two greatest wines of Italy, typically displays an austere splendor. It roams the mouth with a plenitude of acids, tannins, and a range of flavors than can range from camphor to essences of an autumn forest floor. Barolo is slow to mature and even in old age, it is never a wine to be met with frivolously. In youth, it can be downright assaulting. These 2003s went on a searchand-destroy mission reaching to the rear guard of my gums. Young red Bordeaux can also be tough to taste, but it might as well be nectar compared to young Barolo. You’ll have to look elsewhere for an early tasting report on these 2003 wines. I cut and ran.

Actually, I ran only as far as it took to sample a trio of the newly arriving Riservas of the 2001 vintage of Italy’s other great wine, Brunello di Montalcino, which is equally slow to mature. Unlike the Barolos, these Riservas, which must age five years before release, seemed surprisingly ready to drink. Equilibrium was the byword for this vintage’s wines, which unlike those from the ghastly hot and dry 2003 growing season, enjoyed ideal conditions. The Brunello di Montalcino 2001 Riservas from Collosorbo, Le Macioche, and Livio Sassetti Pertimali each delivered waves of bright, yet deep flavor ranging from June cherries to October mushrooms. In theory, these Brunello Riservas should have been too young to offer pleasure now, but they did. They will command prices upon arrival of between $80 and $110 a bottle, and they’ll be worth every dollar.

BEAUJOLAIS BARGAINS

It’s easy to take Georges Duboeuf for granted. The King of Beaujolais, as he is called, is scorned by many “serious” wine buffs who can’t forgive him his enormous commercial success with Beaujolais Nouveau. “Beaujo Nouveau” is a grapey quaffer more likely to douse rather than fan epicurean flames. It’s a shame that this wine is emblematic of the sexagenarian Mr. Duboeuf, because the man quietly makes a spectrum of other Beaujolais wines, which, at their best, ennoble the normally workaday gamay grape.

Contrary to its reputation for being best in its heedless youth, Beaujolais of the “serious” sort can last for a long time and even gain finesse for many years. These ageworthy wines are mainly from 10 crus, nine of which are villages in the large Beaujolais region south of Lyons. The 10th cru, comprising 1,600 acres, is named after its windmill (Moulin-a-Vent) set on a hilltop amidst the vineyards. Moulin-a-Vent is reputed to age best of all the crus. To make the point, Mr. Duboeuf’s son, Franck, hosted a tasting of 10 vintages of the family firm’s Moulin-a-Vent at Restaurant Daniel last week. The oldest wine, from vintage 1995 (no longer available at retail), sung softly with delicate strawberry and vanilla flavors. It was a beauty of a wine, and my favorite of the day.

A decade from now, however, the memory of that 1995 may be surpassed by the 2005 Moulin-a-Vent “Carquelin” ($19 at Zachys), a wine ablaze with brilliant mixed berry fruitiness. It was atypically big-bodied even for this appellation. From a vintage that seems to have excelled everywhere in France, this wine is just beginning to come into its own. For a Moulina-Vent at its apogee, try Duboeuf’s 2003 “Prestige” label (a steal at $9.62 at Pops). The Prestige designation is used for wines sourced from vineyards singled out during the growing season for their superior fruit. The grapes get special attention while on the vine and in the winery as well, and they have enough concentration to benefit from oak aging.

Even Mr. Duboeuf’s top bottlings get little respect from certain wine mavens who believe they are doomed to be inferior to small production, “artisan” Beaujolais. One such self-appointed authority at the tasting told me with certainty that Duboeuf uses commercial rather than natural field yeasts during fermentation, and therefore the wines can’t be all that good — a fashionable but questionable judgment. Another maven insisted that Mr. Duboeuf is “killing” the small growers of Beaujolais because, as the largest grape purchaser in the region, he can dictate the price of their grapes. The sad fact is that Beaujolais is glutted with grapes that, if not purchased by Mr. Duboeuf, might well end up rotting on the vine.