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Preparing for a UNCG wine class, I pull cork from a 2005 Marques de Caceres Rioja Crianza.

I'm folding Marques de Caceres into the lineup because it was my first introduction to Spanish wine. I remember the year was 1984 because the wine label glued in my wine log book is a 1981 Marques de Caceres Rioja Crianza. And -- as almost no one knows -- Crianza Rioja hits the market three years after vintage date.

I dabbled in Rioja because The Wine Spectator, a fledgling trade magazine at the time, was raving about Marques de Caceres. And based on other Rioja wine labels pasted into my wine log book for that year, I can safely say: This was "My Spain Year." I was on a Tempranillo high for some time.

The Tempranillo grape is the primo grape of Rioja (the Spanish name their wine by region because of French influence). Think about French labels: Bordeaux, Burgundy, Loire, Alsace. Good luck picking out the grapes from those regions without some inside information.

My wine log books -- dusty, tattered, bulging with labels soaked from bottles -- are visible reminders of my wine journey, of times when a young reporter struggled to understand wine regions. On a dreary, rain-soaked weekend, I haul out those old books, and they bring a smile at the highs -- and lows -- of that journey.

I ask myself: What's up with all these wines from Hungary, Yugoslavia, Romania and Bulgaria? Then I remember. On a police reporter's salary, this is investigative journalism on a budget. I call these "My Transylvania Years."

Another wine log holds "My California Years" -- pre- and post-California visits. The pre-California mirrors every knock-off white and red blend from wineries that had no vines but had juice and a bottling line.

The post-California visits are reflected in Napa Cabernets, Sonoma Zinfandel, Mendocino Gewurztraminer -- wines that grew in soils outside the wineries visited.

Among "My California Years" is a subgenre, "My Wall of Shame Years" -- the Smothers Brothers and Pat Paulsen blends. Fortunately, I weathered that phase before Marilyn Merlot and Elvis wines hit.

I'd like to tell you about "My Chardonnay Years" and "My Burgundy Years." But looking at my wine log books from the '80s, I just didn't like Chardonnay and Pinot Noir.

What was I thinking?

There are also "My Bordeaux Years," a source of great surprise. Labels suggest brilliance -- and amazing ignorance. Hmm, live and let learn.

On a police reporter's salary in Raleigh in the early '80s, there are purchases that defy the family budget, when I paid $12 to $13 for Bordeaux. That was high cotton. And I have evidence of this in my wine log book: Chateau Cantemerle, Chateau Pibran, Chateau Grand-Puy Lacoste, Chateau Simard, Chateau Coufran, Chateau Greysac and Chateau Gloria Julien.

There is also Chateau Palmer Margaux, reminding me how my wife once bought $30 Bordeaux for my birthday. The wine, price, gesture -- and taste -- took my breath away.

One lone label of 1970s Chateau Latour was brought back from France by my brother, a captain in the Navy with more francs than sense.

In my salad days, the Chateau Gloria Julien was a favorite on romantic weekends around a hibachi grill. In subsequent wine log books, I see Chateau Gloria labels from the 1976, 1982 and 1985 vintages. Not only was I drinking good Bordeaux, I was drinking great vintage years through recessions in the early '80s and again in the early '90s -- all this on a reporter's salary.

Now, in Total Wine, I'm hunting wines as a thank-you to friends. I buy them the good stuff -- in the $15 range. For myself, I'm looking for something cheap and serviceable.

I discover Total Wine's newest release of Chateau Gloria Julien -- an old favorite. It costs $59.99.

Mentally calculating my earnings growth over a quarter-century and balancing it against my 401(k) roller-coaster ride, I walk past that Bordeaux -- and reach for a $3.99 bottle of Double Dog Dare Merlot.

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Not since I was an 8-year-old boy in a toy store with retro Matchbox and futuristic Hot Wheels cars had I felt the way I did in Trader Joe's in Chapel Hill the other week.

Count on Trader Joe's for wacky, off-the-beaten-path brands that will never be brands.

I paid less than $100 for a case and a half, which came to about $5 a bottle. My odd lots included an $8 Michel Leon Gewurztraminer from Alsace, a $6 Chateau Des Cleons Muscadet Sevre Et Maine, a $3 Amaicha Torrontes from Argentina, a $5 Ruggero Di Tasso Nero D' Avola from Sicily and some $6 sparkling rose from the Veneto region of Italy.

I grabbed some French rose -- oddly enough it was the most expensive at $5.99 -- because, well, French rose is how I got my start.

Trader Joe's is off U.S. 15-501 in Eastgate Shopping Center. Call (919) 918-7871.

Contact Ed Williams at williamsonwine@aol.mail