the grapes of ralph: WINE ACCORDING TO RALPH STEADMAN By Ralph Steadman, Harcourt Brace, 224 pages Ralph Steadman is, of course, best known as the illustrator of Hunter S. Thompson's "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas." He has also splashed and scratched ink for the poet Ted Hughes and for the 50th anniversary issue of George Orwell's "Animal Farm." Now, with the publication of his irreverent and deeply funny "The Grapes of Ralph," he reveals himself to be an oenophile of the very first rank as well. It may be instructive to go further: Steadman, in late middle age, has brought the intellectual aesthetic of punk rock to the study of viticulture. "The Grapes of Ralph" isn't quite Iggy Pop speaking on the economy of South Korea on "The McLaughlin Group" -- but it's close. "Wine is far too noble, patient and even courageous for ... phoney elegance," Steadman writes in his introduction. And then he proves the point, with twisted satirical honesty of a sort almost never seen in the canon of tediously pretentious wine writing. Championing wine as it tears down those who take it too seriously, "The Grapes of Ralph" is extremely refreshing. "A 1989 Chardonnay," he writes of a bottle he had in Chile. "Very meaty." Enough said. The book has an interesting history. Commissioned by the British wine retailer Oddbins to illustrate a catalog, Steadman traveled with the firm's buyers all over the winemaking regions of the world, keeping diaries both drawn and written. "The Grapes of Ralph" is the result. With dispatches from Bulgaria, France, Germany, Portugal, the Canary Islands, Italy, Australia, California, Peru and Chile (what -- no Long Island?), he provides a fascinating mixture of fantasy, personal profile, history and impressions that together give a clear and intelligent portrait of the world of wine. Best of all are the caricatures: wine critics with long Dickensian noses and crazed pin-dot eyes; anthropomorphic Syrah grapes ("a mean little brute of a grape ... a tough-skinned urchin, small and tight and throbbing with hard-won juices") ripped from the vine by "uncouth hands"; maniacal Australian vintners smelling the first fermentation of their wine. But Steadman's prose isn't bad at all either. Although one can't entirely agree with his appreciation of California vineyards (it seems he didn't visit many), his opinion is worth the read: "Robert Louis Stevenson spent his honeymoon in the region with his new wife Fanny, and Calistogans declare with pride that he wrote 'And the wine is bottled poetry.' I think he actually said 'And their wines are bottled properly.'" A page later he includes a drawing of a vine-growing technique he calls "The American Way" -- the vines grafted to form the shape of a dollar sign. "Canopy protection is provided by Mexican workers who will stand around all day for next to nothing protecting the grapes from the sun's midday intensity," reads the caption. Which, if overblown, is true and funny as hell besides: Goya in Napa on a fellowship. "The Grapes of Ralph" is a joyous read, as enthusiastic as it is unflinching. It's the work of a happy cynic who happens also to be a sybarite and a wonderful artist. But as the author writes of wine tasting, "It is the sign of a real novice to make too many oohs! and ahhs! ... Simply observe the reverence and imagine you are taking Holy Communion." Yes, well. Steadman would put the church in the cellar. March 5, 1997 -- Sam Sifton Sam Sifton is senior editor of NYPress. P R E V I O U S R E V I E W S Jim Fobel's Caseroles by Dwight Garner (02/26/97) Cookbook Shelf Archive