Did I ever tell you about how Wendy and I got engaged? It was in Italy, on the top of Mount Vesuvius.

It was her first trip to Italy (I had been to the region once before). We were visiting Sorrento, and, when the weather was right, we paid a visit to the top of Mount Vesuvius. You have to pick the day carefully since the top of the mountain is frequently shrouded in clouds; they get hung up there and block the view.

The mountain is still an active volcano, which last erupted in 1944. (After living through most of the war, the poor folks in that area must have thought the world was ending.)

The custom is to take a transport to a small parking lot near the top of the mountain, and then hike the rest of the way up a very step path to the crater. The road up the mountain is essentially a single lane: The first time, I went up in a very little, very fast taxi, that blew its horn incessantly all the way up to notify everyone that it was coming around the bend. This time, we took a tour bus form the bottom (more likely to win a head-on encounter).

Now, this is Italy, mind you, where a more devil-may-care attitude prevails in most areas of life. There's little in the way of guard rails on the way up, and the bus was one of those that swung way out over the edge on the sharp turns it had to make, so that each time it did, the ground beneath you seemed to fall away and you saw the the ever-increasing drop. I made sure Wendy got an outside seat, wanting her to be able to fully appreciate the view.

Part way up, the bus stops at the crater that was the site of the eruption that destroyed Pompeii, and everyone gets out for a look around. The door to the bus, is, of course, on the precipice side, and you have about three feet of ledge to stand on with your back pressed against the bus as you admire the view while your fellow tourists try to get behind you as they wander back and forth looking for rock souvenirs. Assuming you make it back onto the bus, it's up to the parking lot where the hike begins.

On the walk up, I took Wendy's hand and led her down a small side path that overlooked the bay of Naples — which, inexplicably, freaked her out (as if no one had ever strolled down a side path of an active volcano over a 3,000-foot drop to sit next to 6-foot tall seismograph before).

There I proposed, and there she said yes.

So, after her near-death experience, we made our way to the top of the mountain and around the enormous crater (it wasn't smoking that day as it had been last time). There was a little souvenir shop that was serving wine to thirsty hikers, and we had a glass of Lacryma Christi del Vesuvio. We also bought a bottle which we kept until our first anniversary.

Why do I mention these things? First, because the heat of the past few weeks made me recall that hot day atop the mountain. Second, it caused me to muse on wine and memory. Do you have a favorite bottle that reminds you of a special moment? And third, I unexpectedly came upon a bottle of Lacryma Christi at the Wine Studio in Manchester.

The name Lacryma Christi means “the tears of Christ” and this being Italy, there are a number of legends surrounding the name. One legend says that when Jesus ascended to heaven 40 days after Easter he saw the Bay of Naples on the way up, which prompted many tears of joy, which landed on Mount Vesuvius. Vines sprang up from the tears and have produced grapes ever since. The region has had official Italian DOC status since 1983

However they got there, there are a number of native varieties. The wine at hand today is a red made from the Piedirosso grape. Never heard of it? It takes a little digging to find the info. Piedirosso means “red feet,” a reference to the vine's red stocks. It's been around since the ancient Roman world at least and is attested in ancient literature. It's classic flavors are spice, smoke and wild berries. It tends toward medium to light body, with relatively low acidity

And now for the wine itself: 2010 Lacryma Christi del Vesuvio DOC, Italy ($24.99, The Wine Studio Manchester). 100 percent Piedirosso, grown in (guess what) volcanic soil on south-east facing slopes (everything there is slope, of course), and fermented in steel tanks. It's purple with a good dose of ruby, lighter at the rim. The nose is black fruit and a whiff of spice, mostly pepper. Between medium and light bodied, it's got pretty good acidity, medium tannin, medium alcohol (12.5%), well-integrated, and the flavor profile is dusty ripe cherry, plum, hints of smokiness, and spice that all remain through the finish. 88 points. The winemaker recommends that it be paired with meat-based sauces, polenta, and red meats.

It's not a spectacular wine, but a good one. You might think that a wine writer would demand that a special-occasion wine soar up over 90 points, but it isn't so. Wines that pair with memories can't be chosen. They just happen.

The moral of the story: It doesn't have to be a spectacular wine. It just has to be a spectacular memory.

Contact local wine and beer writer Jim Beauregard at regardingwine@aol.com.