The Northern Rhône stretches 45 miles between Vienne and Valence and is responsible for just 4 percent of the total wine production of the Rhône Valley. The vignerons combat spring frosts, thick fogs, intense summer heat, autumn hail storms and winter cold on narrow, rock-strewn terraces and slopes of up to 60-degree grade.

The Mistral blows 150 days of the year and at speeds of 60 mph or greater. Although most vineyards have their "backs" to this wind, when the Mistral doesn't blow, the South Wind does.

I gazed skyward from the landmark chapel on Hermitage Hill and found a large bird of prey having no problem navigating the air currents. Below me were many vineyards worked by hand and horse.

The Northern Rhône exists somewhere between a wing and a plow.

It's this special combination of site and climate that makes the reds of the Northern Rhône what they are. They possess a unique terroir, and many vigneron fight very hard to preserve it.

"We use oak barrels," said Jacques Grange, of Delas Freres, "But you don't taste them. If I taste oak, it's not terroir; it's not the grape. If I source oak barrels from different origins, it's like adding aromas. This is not my job or my culture. Winemaking shouldn't make a difference; geographic origin should make the difference."

I was travelling with a group of wine educators on a French Wine Society study abroad trip to the Rhône. With each sip at Delas Freres, we internalized the message.

"The benchmark characteristics of St. Joseph are violet and graphite," Olivier Ciosi said at Cave de Tain. "The violet is more apparent when the wines are young, but as they age, the graphite becomes more pronounced. Typical characteristics of Cornas are fruit and spice with a wild element. Look for herbes de Provence. Côte Roties always possess a hint of leather."

"Terroir" was beginning to take shape. And the wines themselves were giving the word form.

We moved on to Hermitage and Crozes-Hermitage. The former is much more restrained than the latter. Hermitage also possesses notes of violet, but under this is a subtle core of dark chocolate and cherry. Crozes-Hermitage possesses a more malted chocolate with hints of chicory coffee. And throughout both, was a subtle hint of campfire and mineral.

The wines were liquid sorcery. We left the Northern Rhône on a plush magic carpet of smoke, convinced that there really was a genie in the bottle after all.

Day Three

We arrived at the University of Wine at Suze La Rousse, a lovely castle now transformed into a research and wine center. Philippe Dupond, enologist and professor, was our host and lecturer.

The pivotal point of his talk was the evolution of the Southern Rhône blend. Historically, the many grape varieties of the Southern Rhône were co-planted, co-harvested and co-fermented. As each grape ripened at different times, this proved challenging with regard to quality control.

These days, grape varieties are planted into individual vineyard blocks and picked when ripe. Ironically, greater complexity is still achieved when the different grape varieties are co-fermented.

It is common these days to pick early-ripening syrah late and late-ripening grenache early and co-ferment them. Other grape varieties are added into the initial blend later on, after separate harvests and vinifications.

"The earlier you blend, the better the wine will be," Philippe Dupond said. "Just like a stew composed of many things, warmed over time."

Warm. Yesiree. It was warm.

The mercury had run up the thermometer a few notches south of Montelimar, the entranceway to the Southern Rhône.

The days were quite hot and sunny, but the nights were cold. Valerie and Philippe Chaume, our hosts at Domaine Chaume Arnaud in Vinsobres, were quick to point out the extremes in diurnal temperature variation. "It can be over 100 by day and 50 degrees Fahrenheit by night," Philippe said.

We were melting in the heat as he spoke, and his words were drowned out by the gurgle of our water bottles as we tried to stay hydrated. After walking around in the equivalent of a pizza oven all day, none of us wore appropriate clothing when we set off to the mountain top town of Séguret that evening for dinner. After a day of sweat, sun block and an eyeball-searing glare that even prescription sunglasses couldn't mitigate, we found ourselves frozen stiff before dusk. We were dining al fresco. Trés fresco! Obviously, we needed to pay closer attention to our daily lesson plan.

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