But one commenter who wasn’t laughing was Paul Gregutt, wine columnist for the Seattle Times. He had this to say:

there’s little doubt that the most difficult cork pulling experiences in my life come when someone has slathered their weapon-grade wine bottle with a pound or two of faux wax. You need a chainsaw to drill through some of these things. It is not helpful to embark on what is supposed to be a thoughtful review of someone’s wine with blood all over the corkscrew, the bottle, the glass and the writer. Perhaps you will join me in an effort to dissuade wineries from using this stuff?

I’ve enjoyed quite a few wines–from Lapierre, Foillard, Vatan, and Lopez de Heredia to name a few–sealed with a wax layer on top of the cork. While they are annoying since they require an additional sweep of the counter, I’ve never shed blood as Paul apparently has. And I think they do add a nice aesthetic touch.

But what say you? Should wineries no longer use them as Paul suggests?

“I immediately assume that the wine is garbage if the punniness is high,” one of my friends said recently. Fair enough, as we have discussed before. But then there is the case of Johannes Leitz.

While many European labels can be confusing for New World consumers who are more used to varietal labeling, German labels crank up the degree of difficulty by adding terms such as Kabinett, Spaetlese, and–my favorite, linguistically–Trockenbeerenauslese. Although these terms express roughly the degree of sweetness, they only do so for the wine before fermentation (aka the weight of the must), so the level of residual sugar after fermentation may not be as sweet or dry as one might expect. Throw in some vineyard names on top of those terms and it makes running for Blue Nun understandable–from a purely linguistic standpoint.

Johannes Leitz, by contrast, makes some easy reading labels as well as tasty wines. He turned the Rudesheimer Drachenstein vineyard into simply “Dragonstone”–a cool label, easy name and easy drinking Riesling that I often recommend particularly as a wine for newbies. The single site, estate bottled wine is sweet in 2007 but obtains balance with some tangy acidity and minerality (find this wine). Pair with takeout.

New for 2007 is his multilingual punny “Eins, Zwei, Dry” (find this wine) The Riesling is, in fact, dry (well, 7 grams of residual sugar, barely above the threshold of perception). Dry Rieslings often seem to only come from the New World and Leitz only first produced this dry wine in the spectacular 2007 vintage (more details from the importer, Terry Theise’s page). The wine has more minerality and verve. I’d find this one most refreshing on a hot summer day with the Dragonstone one for the spring and the fall, when I prefer more richness.

Johannes Leitz has wit. And he makes clear labels good wines. He has my vote for federallabelminister! But I also think he is a rare exception, joining Rosenblum and possibly Bonny Doon, to the rule about puns and wine quality.

Do witty labels and good wine make a good blend? Or is the wine best left to do the talking?

The magazine has collaborated to put “iconic images on a new limited-run collectors’ wine series,” according to a press release. Limited runs of wines will be “hand-chosen” by “credible master wine sommeliers who also were tasked with selecting the magazine cover that they feel best represents the flavor and taste profile of each wine.” Yikes, what an assignment!

But these are old wines in new, airbrushed wine skins with about 60 percent markups: The Schug Heritage Reserve Cabernet 2003 is easily available for under $50 (where to buy?) but with their label it is $86; the St. Supery Dollarhide Cabernet Sauvignon 2003 (where to buy?) is available for about $70 but with their label it is $112.

Their label for the Schug is particularly, erm, revealing; how did they get this by those dour, green-visored regulators at the Treasury Department? The “peel away” label no doubt helped. And to think that 1993 Mouton label by Balthus, a line drawing, was too much for them to approve.

After the jump, if you dare, click through for a comparison of the banned Mouton label with the current one from Playboy wines!

1993 Mouton (where to buy?) labels: Europe on the left, USA on the right

An offering from the new Playboy wines

Here are the four “groan cru” (sorry, had to do it) wine names. Vote now for the worst offender! And remember, this isn’t for the worst label design, just the name, hence no finalist labels are shown to distract us.

poll now closed

Names, of course, don’t affect the taste. As the great wordsmith Shakespeare might have put it, a wine by another name would smell as dry with a hint of raspberry, leather, and garrigue. But sometimes the name can make us groan, roll our eyes, and not buy the bottle.

Consider Rosenblum Cellars’ Chateau La Paws Cote du Bone Roan red (about $14; find this wine). I’ve seen the wine on store shelves, groaned, and kept walking. But I recently tried it at a trade tasting and the heck if it isn’t purdy darned good! But I’d still never buy it. OK, maybe as a gift for my dog-loving sister-in-law. Once. Or for some other friends who are very into their adorable puppies. But only once then too. Moving on!

Which wines out there have the most groan-inducing names? (A Groan Cru, if you will.) Hit the comments with your thoughts. Next week, we’ll narrow the field and let the voting begin! And please note, this is for names only; the aesthetes had their say recently with the worst label design.

I recruited two judges to help whittle down the field to five labels and they are now available for your voting after the jump. But first, the judges: Steve De Long, known to many for his fine aesthetic work on the various products at De Long Wine Company; and Guillaume Jourdan, a partner at Vitabella, a PR and marketing firm in Paris who has consulted wineries on improving their labels. Since he’s foreign, I guess he’ll be our Simon Cowell. To the voting!

Cleavage Creek,
Josh sent this one in, saying, “I know Marilyn Merlot. Marilyn Merlot is a friend of mine. You, madam, are no Marilyn Merlot!”
Tyler: “Is that a flag pin?”
Steve: “Some things are so bad that they’re good but cleavage creek can’t make that transcendent spin. It’s embarrassingly bad. However it may be good for pranks like sending bottles through the mail to friends. A little like sending mail in envelopes marked “The Pornography You Ordered.”
Guillaume: “On the positive side, you immediately understand that this wine comes from America.”

Zeller Schwarze Katz
Mark sent this one in saying, “Zeller Schwarze Katz is a bad Mosel wine. (Zeller = from Zell, the town of Zell an der Mosel) It’s right up there with Liebfraumilch.” (Click photo to enlarge)
Tyler: “It made me laugh, it made me cry–but mostly cry.”
Steve: “Ding ding ding – we have a winner. Truly terrible. Is that Riesling Rose or a pink bottle?! And what about the white bottle? And the spelling, the spelling!”
Guillaume: “If I have to buy it, it would be for a friend collecting every kind of “cat shaped things” or for putting flowers in it if I suddenly broke my last “vase” before my guests arrive.”

The Prisoner, Orin Swift
Nancy sent this one in saying “It’s ugly, depressing, pretentious, and vulgar.” It sparked a heated discussion.
Steve: “In Europe, we’ve had a lot of coverage of the Austrian dungeon nightmare story recently so the prisoner theme resonates. Regardless of the talent of the artist, pain and suffering isn’t exactly a great way to start a party.”
Guillaume: “Does this mean that it is your last wine before going to jail or the last before you die? Painful is the adjective coming to my mind when looking at this label. Is it painful to drink this wine?”
Tyler: [Shudder]

Honorable mention:
Horse’s Ass, Herding Cats, Messina Hof “Tex Zin,” President Jacques Chirac Champagne (his favorite beverage is Corona!)

So right here, on this blog, we’re going to “out” the worst wine labels you’ve ever seen. Channel your inner graphic designer and post a link in the comments or send me an image of a label that has rubbed you the wrong way by next Friday. Then our panel of experts (yes, perhaps more than just me) will review them and put a list of finalists for your vote.

Send images–even bad cameraphone images such as mine above–to tyler at drvino dot com and, if necessary, say why it rubs you the wrong way.