1. Box it up. There are some good box wines out there (even the New York Times thinks so), and ounce for ounce, they represent a great value. Serve it up in this adorable “vin de maison” carafe so people will think you’re charming, not cheap.

2. Ditch the glass. Yes I know, many restaurants have amazing wine-by-the-glass selections. But how many times have you gone out with a friend, drunk a few glasses between the two of you, and realized you could have gotten more wine, for less, if you had just ordered a bottle? Find a happy compromise on a wine you’ll both enjoy and opt for the full bottle.

3. Put a cork(age) in it. Bring your own bottle and pay the restaurant’s corkage fee, usually around $25. Of course, this makes the most sense when you have a pricier bottle to share. If you want to bypass the corkage fee, I’ve found that Asian and Middle Eastern restaurants are pretty flexible about letting you bring  your own booze. Another option: scout out brand-new restaurants that don’t have their liquor licenses yet.

4. Try something new. A lot of the wines at the fringes of the wine store (ie, not California, France or Italy) can offer really great values. Portuguese whites are cheap and super-refreshing, and sherry is, pound for pound, one of the best value wines around. It’s also high in alcohol and served in smaller portions, so if you’re entertaining, a little goes a long way. Grab that can of Planter’s peanuts in the cupboard, fish out those olives from the back of the fridge, ask a friend to bring over some dried sausage or cheese, and call it a tapas party.

5. Be honest. Now is not the time to pussyfoot around. Tell the wine store salesperson or the sommelier exactly how much you want to spend. You may feel cheesy about it, but being straightforward will actually make their job a lot easier.

6. Free tastings. Every wine store worth its salt has ‘em. They’re a great way to new wines and avoid disappointment. (Even a $10 wine is a crappy value if you don’t like it.) If you taste something you like, make sure to tell the salesperson, so she can recommend similar wines in your price range.

7. Befriend a pregnant or nursing wine blogger. OK, so this one is a little specific. But when I was pregnant, and during my brief breast-feeding phase, I was mostly tasting, rather than drinking. I relied on friends to finish the bottles. I’m just sayin’, don’t be afraid to be opportunistic.

1. Get organized. I’m a little scattered when it comes to keeping my tasting notes all in one place. I just downloaded an iPhone app called Drync Wine, which lets me take notes and store label photos of what I’m drinking–and flag wines that I’m interested in trying next. I’ll let you guys know how it works out. Not to sound like your mom, but I’d encourage you to figure out some simple way to track your consumption and preferences, whether it’s an iPhone app, an Excel spreadsheet, or a little notebook. No need to get too fancy about it — just figure out an easy, unobtrusive way to record your thoughts. It’s the single biggest thing you can do to improve your wine knowledge.

2. Try something new. Once a week, I’m going to try a wine that falls outside my default France/Spain/Long Island/California repertoire. Tannat from Uruguay? South African Chenin Blanc? Greek Xinomavro? Bring it on. If you’re very serious about this — and really, what better thing to be serious about? — check out the Wine Century Club, which is open to people who have tasted at least 100 grape varieties. There’s a spreadsheet on the site you can use to track your progress. (I’m at 114, but who’s counting?)

3. Drink more sherry. I make this one every year, and each time I fall short. I love sherry, and it’s surprisingly versatile — and well-priced. One of my favorite Christmas presents is the Moro cookbook, from the Spanish/Mediterranean restaurant in London of the same name, so I’m hoping this will inspire me to cook even more sherry-friendly dishes. In June I’ll be taking my sherry/port/Madeira and sparkling wine exams as part of my never-ending diploma studies, so that will force me to do some more sherry drinking too.

Enough about me…here’s what I’m hoping to see from the wine world overall in 2010:

4. For prices to go down and everyone to get more for their money. As I mentioned before, we’re already seeing a welcome return to sanity in some California pricing. And I think that the overall quality of wines from Argentina and Chile, two sure-fire value destinations, is on the rise. Sauvignon Blanc fans, take note: there are some really strong examples of this wine coming out of Chile’s Leyda Valley that can go up against  New Zealand Sauvignon Blancs for half the price.

5. For Australia to regain its footing. After its huge success with value wines in the 1990s, Australia lost its way a bit — right now it’s saddled with a reputation as a producer of cheap, undistinguished wines when the world is craving more sophisticated flavors. Recent environmental crises, like droughts and forest fires, haven’t helped. I have a soft spot for Australia for two reasons. First, those Australian wines of the 1990s — cheap, fun, fruity — were my on-ramp to the world of wine. That’s all I could afford, and the flavors (and, let’s be frank, sugar) were easy and welcoming. Second, Australia makes some incredible wines from Syrah and Riesling, my two favorite grapes. True, the style isn’t always to my liking, but I appreciate the diversity.

6. For the term “wine snob” to disappear. Yes, some people can be insufferable prigs about wine. But there are plenty of a-holes out there when it comes to a lot of things that take time and effort to master– say, woodworking — and you never hear anyone talking about carpentry snobs. Wine can be expensive, and there are elements of it that can be intimidating to the neophyte. But the snobbism comes from the person, not the beverage. There’s a lot of mysticism and romance surrounding it, but at the end of the day it’s a drink made from fermented grape juice that, when taken in moderation, makes our food tastier, our company livelier, and our evenings more convivial. Here’s wishing you and yours many tasty, lively, and convivial evenings in 2010!

Quick chemistry lesson review: the sugar in grapes is the precursor of alcohol in the finished wine. So a very simplified equation for fermentation would be sugar + yeast = alcohol + carbon dioxide. The riper the grapes, the more sugar you have, and the higher alcohol wine you end up with. This explains why big reds from hot regions in Australia, Spain, or California, for example, have higher higher alcohol levels than wines from France’s Loire Valley, Germany, or our very own Long Island. In some cases, producers making a “dry red wine” will actually leave a little sugar in there. That makes the wine softer, rounder, and easier to appreciate, particularly for the American sweet tooth. (No judgement: I’m eating a bowl of brown sugar ice cream as I write this.)

The truth is, many people like slightly sweet wine, and that’s OK. They go down easy, and sugar adds a seductive, luscious quality to many wines that’s hard to resist. Sugar helps to balance out high acidity (think of making a glass of lemonade), an equation that works well in sweet German whites. Sugar also helps to mask flaws, distracting from excessive levels of tannin, for example.

Often in my classes I find that when people say they like dry wine, especially when they’re talking about whites, they mean they don’t like very aromatic wines that smell like sweet things (pineapple, honey, and the like) but are actually dry. It’s no knock against them — it took me a while to figure this out, too. When you bring a glass of Alsatian Riesling or New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc to your nose, the smells can be overpowering: kiwi, lychee, passion fruit, nectarines, candied lemon peel … all things that we know from experience taste deliciously sweet. We assume then that the wine itself is going to taste sugary, even if that’s not the case. Remember, you can’t really smell sweet: stick your nose in your box of Domino sugar if you don’t believe me. Sweetness is something we taste, so the proof is on your tongue. You can have wines that smell like a perfectly ripe peach but are actually dry (e.g., Albariño from northern Spain) or wines that smell like lemon and minerals and are perceptibly sweet on the palate (some German Rieslings). When evaluating the sweetness of a wine, and deciding what you do and don’t like, it’s important to think about what you’re smelling vs. what you’re tasting.

I’m a big fan of sweet wines. German Rieslings, Port, sweet Chenin Blanc from the Loire Valley, Banyuls, a dark and luscious wine from the Roussillon in Southern France near the Spanish border, syrupy Pedro Ximenez sherry…in my dream cellar, I’d have a case or two of each. Aside from the Pedro Ximenez, which makes an incredible topping for vanilla or coffee ice cream, I usually prefer them on their own. Unless you’ve perfectly matched the sweetness levels, either the wine or the dessert ends up overshadowing the other.