This is the geezer column I thought I never would write.

I was wrong.

I crafted a bunch of my world-famous (OK, Hall County-famous) hamburgers for the grill the other night and served up one of my bride’s favorite red wines — a Barbera D’Asti from the Piemonte region of Italy.

Full of fruity magic and smelling like a leather briefcase, it arm-wrestled the burgers to a tie. The brand of Barbera, by the way, was Ricasso, one of Italy’s respected labels.

This caused me to reflect on my many years in the wine biz, and on the many wines I have enjoyed back in the clouds of the past, but which no longer are made.

Too bad, so sad.

The barbera jogged my memory. One of the best California reds in the 1970s and ’80s came from the once family-owned Martini Winery of Napa Valley. Founded in the early 20th century by "Old Lou" Martini, this winery embodied the Italian heritage of California wine making.

These were the families that came to America with a dream — and wine-making know-how.

Think about the pioneer names in California: Martini, Mondavi, Pedroncelli, Indelicato, Foppiano, Parducci, Rafanelli, etc. Notice a pattern? The names all end in a vowel.

Old Lou was a smallish man with a largish ego — which you need to make wine. His heritage was reflected in the family’s barbera, and, despite the fact that it was not a big-selling wine, by damn, he was going to make it. And his son, Big Lou, a largish man with a soft ego, continued that tradition.

Sadly, over the years, the family dedication died out ... as did the barbera. Well before Martini was purchased by Gallo, the barbera faded into the mist.

And I miss it a lot.

Likewise the Mirassou Pinot Blanc. Back in the ’80s and ’90s, not many wineries were producing this crisp, flavorful white wine. But the Mirassou family liked it ... and made it. It was one of my favorite white wines during that time and, while my column was distributed nationally, I wrote feverishly in support of the Mirassou Pinot Blanc.

I was a voice crying out in the wilderness. Everybody back then was addicted to chardonnay. Even though over lunch with Dan Mirassou and his brother I exhorted them to keep making pinot blanc, this lovely white wine died a very quiet death.

A few weeks ago I received a sample of a dessert wine from one of my standby wineries, Valley of the Moon in Sonoma County. Sonoma County is one of the loveliest places in the world. If you think the wine country of Tuscany is grand, give Sonoma County a visit. You may change your mind.

Valley of the Moon is part of the Heck Family of wine producers, counting among them Korbel, Lake Sonoma and — until recently — Kenwood. Kenwood, sad to say, was sold to an Italian conglomerate ... and I’ll have more to say about that once I get reports from Sonoma.

But the wine in question is a Souzao Port. If you are of an age above 50, you may recall from the ’70s and ’80s a sweet dessert wine in a heart-shaped bottle called Souzao Port from Paul Masson, one of California’s legacy wineries. It was sweet, viscous, made in the style of the famed Portuguese Ports (Portos), and capped off many a succulent meal in classical Port style.

Paul Masson (the wine producer, not the person) was dissected during a series of corporate takeovers and essentially no longer exists. But the memory of the PM Port lingers.

Valley of the Moon has released a Late Bottled Vintage Souzao Port — in very limited quantities. Frankly, the chances you will find it in a Georgia wine shop are slim to none ... and I hate writing about wines my readers probably won’t see.

But this is such a wonderful offering, one which takes me back decades, that I can’t help myself. It is full of chocolate-plum flavors, is rich on the palate and is the perfect ending to a fine meal. Pour a few fingers of Souzao into a glass and your eyes may begin to glaze. Contented snoring may follow. Hold the cigars and walnuts, please.

This is the best time in history for wine lovers. There are more good and very-good wines available from more parts of the world than ever before. Still I reflect on the memorable wines I have tasted and loved and which are no more, and how they have shaped my likes and dislikes of today.

Randall Murray is a Gainesville-area resident. Have a question about wine? He can be contacted at murrwine@aol.com. His column appears on the first Wednesday of the month and on gainesvilletimes.com/life.