What happens when a wine falls from grace? You get a good bottle for $10.

Merlot, everyone's favorite red wine in the '90s, reached its trendoid apotheosis when it was name-checked not once but twice on Seinfeld ("The Rye," in January 1996, and "The Yada Yada," in April 1997, in which Kramer memorably uttered: "I live for merlot."). Yep, merlot was hot, it was happening, it was what we all wanted to drink—or what we all wanted to talk about drinking.       

But, oh, how grape expectations pop. Due to massive overexposure, merlot, a perfectly respectable and delicious wine, has hit the skids in recent years. Usually, I don't feel bad about toppling food trends. In fact, I worked on a story in the January 1997 issue of Food & Wine that put merlot on a "tired trend" list. But I did get upset when I heard the following from a friend: Just the other day, my buddy was dining at Lupa, a restaurant owned by Food Network superstar Mario Batali. He asked for a glass of merlot. "We don't have merlot," the waiter sniffed, rolling his eyes.           

Why the 'tude? How did a wine become a symbol of the passé? As someone who prefers '80s culture to '90s culture, I didn't jump on the merlot bandwagon when the stuff was hot; I was deep in unhip Chardonnay country, and I didn't care what anyone had to say about it. But after hearing my friend's story about the dissing of merlot, what I wanted to know was this: Does merlot really suck? Is it possible to get a good one? And, most important given these lean times, is it possible to get a good bottle of it for $10 or less?

But first, what is merlot? It's a red grape; in fact, it's the dominant grape grown in most of France's Bordeaux region. Merlot is often blended with other grapes to make wine, but sometimes it's left all alone. The most famous producer of French merlot wines is Chateau Petrus, whose 1990 bottling earned a perfect 100 score from Wine Spectator (it sells for about $1,700 a bottle).

Merlot grapes are also grown all over the world—with varying success—from California to Croatia, Argentina to Australia. The grape contains little of the astringent substance known as tannin that comes mostly from grape skins and, besides adding bitterness, helps preserve wine. Classic merlot has a fairly big body; its full taste generally needs strong food to stand up to it—lasagna, say, instead of sushi. Its taste should remind you of ripe red fruit.

Sometimes merlot has hints of smooth, chocolate flavor—usually what people refer to when they call it "velvety." Merlot is also often described as a "safe" wine, because its fruit is easy to taste and it goes well with many foods.

The Tasting

The setting: March, a restaurant awarded three stars by the New York Times, on Manhattan's Upper East Side. March is home to one of the city's most vaunted wine cellars, with more than 4,500 bottles.

The characters: Generously leading the tasting was Chuck Mason, general manager and assistant wine director of March. Mason looks a little like John McEnroe in a twinkle-eyed, spry way. Second was me. Third was my out-of-work friend Max, a comedy writer who never turns down the chance to drink. So, I had someone who knows nearly everything about wine (Chuck), someone who knows something about wine (me), and someone who knows nothing about wine (Max).

The method: Ten glasses per person, each labeled with a letter. Of those ten, two were from the United States (California and Washington), while the rest were international, hailing from Bulgaria, Argentina, Croatia, Chile, Italy, Romania, Australia, and France. Rose, the restaurant manager, hid corresponding letters underneath the bottles and then decanted for us. We tasters had no idea which wine was which as we sipped. First, we analyzed a merlot's color; next we swirled the wine in its glass to get an idea about its body; finally, we tasted … and then spat (well, most of the time). We didn't find out what the wines were until after we'd tasted and ranked them, at which point we discussed their relative merits some more.