Slate finds good bottles from Texas, Missouri, and other Republican strongholds.

The election is over and the commentariat's verdict is in: It is those of us in the blue states who are narrow-minded and ignorant. In at least one important respect, this is true. Few blue-state wine buffs are aware that Middle America includes some fairly dynamic wine regions. It is, of course, considered obligatory to serve American wines at Thanksgiving, and in the spirit of national reconciliation, we at Slate thought this holiday would be an appropriate moment to reach out to our red-state neighbors by tasting their wines.

As it happens, several red states—Texas, Virginia, Missouri, and Ohio—have long and noble winemaking traditions. In Virginia, for instance, winemaking dates back to the early 17^th century and the settlement at Jamestown. Virginia can also claim as its own the greatest oenophile this country has yet produced, Thomas Jefferson, who expended enormous effort trying, mostly in vain, to cultivate world-class wines on his native soil.

But Texas can claim a figure of perhaps even greater consequence to the wine world: T.V. Munson, the renowned horticulturist who rescued the French wine industry in its bleakest hour. In the mid to late 19^th century, the phylloxera root louse was decimating the great vineyards of France. It was Munson who conceived the idea of exporting phylloxera-resistant American rootstock to Europe and grafting it onto local grapevines, which proved to be the silver bullet that brought a halt to the devastation. For his efforts, Munson was awarded the Chevalier du Mérité.

For all his heroics on behalf of the French, Munson was powerless to reverse the damage inflicted on American viticulture by the Civil War and, later, the prohibitionists. But over the last three decades or so, winemaking has enjoyed an impressive revival in the flyover states, and there are now dozens of growers in Ohio, Texas, Missouri, and Virginia. Even more impressive than the number of wineries is the diversity of grapes and styles. French, Italian, Portuguese, and native varietals, along with quite a few hybrids, are being used to craft a dizzying array of dry, off-dry, and sweet wines.

So how are the wines? I sampled more than 40 reds and whites. Most were clunkers, but that was to be expected. Amid all the mediocrity, however, there were several very creditable wines and a few that truly grabbed me. The Virginia contingent acquitted itself particularly well; the whites and reds from Horton, Barboursville, and Linden all demonstrated real character, complexity, and finesse. Jefferson, I suspect, would have been pleased.

Below are tasting notes for the wines I can recommend. Ordinarily, I would include notes for all the wines I tried, but given that this tasting was undertaken as a form of outreach, an attempt to bridge the red state-blue state divide, it would be unsporting to include notes for wines I didn't like. The only exception I've made is to include tasting notes for the two wines I sampled from Becker Vineyards in Texas. The Becker wines were of particular interest to me because they are evidently among First Lady Laura Bush's favorites and have been served at White House functions. The Becker Cabernet and Viognier were both fairly disappointing; I found several wines from another Texas producer, Llano Estacado, much more convincing. But maybe its proprietor is a Democrat.

WHITES

Stone Hill Winery Chardonel 2003, $9.99 (Missouri)  
No, that's not a typo; the grape is actually called chardonel. It's a hybrid of chardonnay and an obscure varietal called Seyval. Lean, lemony, and refreshingly crisp. A nice wine; consider it compensation of sorts from the state that gave us John Ashcroft (I'm allowed one cheap shot here).

Debonné Vineyards Pinot Gris 2002, $10.99 (Ohio)
Pinot gris is nothing if not adaptable, but northern Ohio? On the shores of Lake Erie? Apparently so. You catch the scent of apples, pears, flowers, and vanilla, along with a hint of Earl Gray tea. It's pleasantly austere, with a slight bitter edge to the fruit. (The bitterness is perhaps a bit more pronounced if you're a Democrat.)

Horton Vineyards Viognier 2001, $20 (Virginia)
This wine lets off an unmistakable whiff of peanut brittle—a Virginia thing, perhaps—along with more classic Viognier aromas: peach, melon, and acacia flowers. Tastes of peaches and apricots, supported by excellent acidity. The turkey could do a lot worse than this wine.