I was having a glass of Bethel Heights Oregon pinot noir at the neon-blue wine bar in Chez Suave and talking to Lefty, the bartender, about the whereabouts of Mr. Vino. No one had seen him for some time, and there were rumors that he was in Tibet meditating on some mountain peak. But who really knows? Mr. Vino has no address, no phone and lives out of a single suitcase. He lives with whoever loves wine and lets him stay.

I was finishing my glass of pinot when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and there was the short and handsome Mr. Vino, tanned and wearing a beautiful blue Italian suit. I gave him a bear hug and ordered a bottle of champagne.

As we moved to a table, he started to fill me in on his recent activities. “My friend, I have been meditating in vineyards and sleeping between the vine rows, with the cover crop as my companion and the soaring blackbirds and silver moon as my roof,” he said. “I was first in Champagne, France, and then in California in the Russian River Valley, living in vineyards of pinot noir and chardonnay.”

Lefty served us a bottle of Argyle Oregon sparkling brut and a cheese and fruit platter as I asked the obvious question: “Why, Mr. Vino?”

Mr. Vino waved his long finger. “To understand wine, you must know the vineyard and the soil under your feet,” he said. “The root system of vines is like an iceberg – most of it is not seen. But it is the root system that creates a lot of the quality of the wine.”

I took a sip of the Argyle, which was delicious, and said, “There is no question that the more well-developed the root system is – like most mountain fruit – the more tasty the grapes are and the better the quality of the wine.”

Mr. Vino smiled and went on. “Yes, the quality of mountain fruit is much better than the fruit from the valley floor because the valley vines have to struggle a lot more to get water and other nutriments to sustain themselves. It leads to the concept of vigor – the more vigorous the vine the poorer the quality of the fruit; the less vigorous the vine the better the grapes.”

Mr. Vino tasted the brut and I took a nibble of melon. “So why did you go to Champagne and the Russian River?” I asked.

He lifted his champagne glass and exclaimed: “I wanted to understand this – champagne and sparkling wines. Most of what is written about champagne is the production methods in the winery. But that is not the wine. Champagne, like all wines, is really made in the vineyards.

“Any wine grape can be made into a sparkling wine, like sparkling white zinfandel,” he continued. “But what grapes can be made into classic-style bubbly with a delicate fruit and nose, twitching bubbles, and hints of minerality and bread dough? For that, you must use classic grape varietals like pinot noir and its clone, pinot meunier – and, of course, chardonnay.”

I took another sip of the Argyle and interjected: “I often think of champagne as being a Burgundian wine, like a blend of Meursault and Pommard.”

“In a way that’s true,” Mr. Vino began as I poured him another glass of wine, “but the experience is so different. With champagne, the emphasis is on fruit and bubbles. With burgundy, it is the integration of fruit and oak to create weight and style. There is yin and yang to the wines – burgundy is the earth and champagne is the sky.”

I asked him a question I’d always wanted to ask: “Why, my friend, do you meditate in vineyards?”

There was a pause, a smile, and then Mr. Vino spoke. “One can meditate anywhere, with practice,” he said. “But with my meditations about wine, I want to be at the source. In that way, there is no separation; there is just one reality. The vineyards and I are sharing the same moonlight, the same breeze. There, I wait for the vines to whisper something in my ear. That is the way I learn.”

Interesting, I thought. “So the idea is that you want to feel a sense of oneness,” I said.

Mr. Vino took a large swig of champagne and said: “You are the wine and the wine is you. Then you are truly enlightened about wine. I know it sounds absurd to most people, but the truth often is.”

I agreed with him and pulled out a list of champagne selections for a new wine list at Chez Suave. Mr. Vino looked at the list with great interest and said, “I think the first order of business is to order another bottle of Argyle.”

Lefty brought us a fresh bottle and we got to work.