That's the term folks involved in the wine shipping wars call what they're trying to do up in Lansing. And it's not a good thing for most Michigan consumers and retailers.

Judges nationwide got the message from the Supreme Court's 2005 Granholm decision: state laws that discriminate against out-of-state wineries or retailers don't pass muster under the Constitution's Commerce Clause.

So politicos in state legislatures had to make a choice. They could "level up" - that is, treat wine like other commodities in the 21^st century economy, from autos to gun ammo, and expand their markets with appropriate licenses and regulations, while simultaneously letting Michigan's own businesses effectively expand to serve consumers, both locally and nationwide.

Or they could "level down" - take away the current rights of in-state retailers and consumers in order  to protect the state's powerful wholesaler distributors' cartel.

Given our state's economic track record in recent years, which direction do you guess they're taking up in Lansing? Hint: while Governor Granholm is in on an Israeli road trip, trying to import a few 21^st century businesses and jobs to Michigan, her party colleagues back home in the state legislature are busy propping up Prohibition-era beverage laws guaranteed to further damage our precarious economy.

How? The prime example is Winebuys.com, an online seller of wine. It's a high-tech internet startup - something we talk a good game about wanting to promote in Michigan. Started last year by two Detroit-area businessmen who anted up $1 million of their own money, it's one small step along the road that might someday wean Michigan off our auto-dependence. They project $10 million in sales next year, and plan to hire a few more employees soon.

It's a gutsy move to start a new Michigan-based business in this economy. Most of their online competitors are located in places like California, a state that's long encouraged retail wine shipping and, as a result, already houses a profusion of young, growing businesses in the sector.

But if the level-down law before Michigan's state legislature passes, the entire legal basis for their business - selling and shipping wine to retail consumers nationwide - will be banned in Michigan. Like too many other businesses before them, the folks behind Winebuys will have two choices: go out of business or move to another state.

By the way, you may wonder where Winebuys gets all this wine it sells online. You guessed it: from the same Michigan wholesalers whose well-paid lobbyists are diligently working Lansing's backrooms at the moment, to pass the law that will put their customer out of business.

You'd swear these guys have been taking business development lessons from the automakers.

Bob Epstein, one of the lawyers behind the wine shipping court cases, told me he calls the wholesalers' push to level down "vindictive", an act of retribution for their losses in court. The phrase I prefer is "collective punishment".

Either way, leveling down presents a pure "cutting off your nose" scenario. In order to protect their own monopoly status, the wholesaler cartel is willing to damage the retail businesses they supply and their ultimate end-customers, millions of Michigan consumers.

Unfortunately for the rest of us, they've given our state politicos more than 700,000 reasons to see things their way.

And when our legislators get around to thanking the wholesalers for all that campaign cash, I hope they remember that they won't be able to pitch some business to their local Michigan wine store by phoning up and asking it to send over a bottle of Champagne.

You see, that's one of the things they're getting ready to ban if this bill passes.

Howcum you'll find one small Michgan winery in store after store, while another of similar quality barely registers a blip?

After cruising the Michigan shelves at a half-dozen wine retailers for an Ann Arbor Chronicle column, that question kept nagging at me. Especially since several missing wineries have wholesale representatiion in the area -- in some cases, the same distributors as other wineries that appear repeatedly on local shelves.

So I called Scott Fochtman at Mitten Wine Logistics for some answers. He represents 15 small to medium-sized Michigan wineries, more than any other distributor in the state. Some of his labels appear frequently in local retail stores, while others nearly never show their faces.

Fochtman was ready to explain, in just four words. "It's a pricing issue," he said.

"The problem is a retailer getting $21.99 for a bottle of Michigan wine," he went on. "That's a tough sell. I have those wines in my book. Guys get there and flip right by them. It's too much money."

He mentioned that selling higher-priced Michigan wine was proving especially difficult these days in the Detroit and Ann Arbor markets.

I checked the notes from my Ann Arbor store visits. Sure enough, except for a couple of bubblies, I'd noted just one over-$20 Michigan wine anywhere I stopped.

So what's the best price for Michigan wines in a retail store? 

Fochtman says his sweet spot is $11.99 to $15.99; anything beyond that starts to present problems.

"There is so much good wine at these prices," he said. "For that same price, people will go and buy Australian or Chilean. That's what we're up against. If (a Michigan wine) is $24 at a retailer, you're going to sit on a lot of that wine."

I asked about one high-quality winery whose near-total absence in the local market puzzled me.

"He's a great winemaker," Fochtman agreed. "But his prices aren't competitive in a retail environment."

By way of contast, he mentioned a neighboring winery. "His wines are $5 less a bottle. That makes them much easier to sell."

Of yet another winery, he noted approvingly, "He'll call me and say, 'This wine isn't selling. Let's mark it down and clear it out.'"

Fochtman acknowledged that some smaller wineries are less concerned about retail store volumes because of their strong tasting room business. Wineries make higher margins -- and face less pricing pressure -- when they sell to tasting room visitors, as opposed to retailers.

Because the preferences and loyalties of winery visitors also differ from retail customers, wineries can sell different -- and differently-priced -- wines in their tasting rooms. "I asked (one winemaker) why he makes so many sweeter wines, and he said that he sells them out in his tasting room," Fochtman explained. "We can't sell those same wines at retail."

Next week, I'll speak with a couple of wineries that work with distributors to get their perspective on the same issues.

For the past few days, I've been doing field work.

Just to be clear, a wine writer's field work doesn't resemble that of an anthropologist. There's no digging up remains of ancient carafes and goblets, or conducting scientifically-valid surveys of wine preferences.

No, this field work consists of visiting wine stores around Ann Arbor to glean information for a monthly wine column that starts on Saturday, November 2, in the newish online paper, the Ann Arbor Chronicle. And the information has to do with the selection of Michigan wine available locally.

What I found was pleasantly surprising, with some caveats. So, in no particular order:

For the most part, Michigan wine selections are larger than I expected -- or would have found just a couple of years ago. Six of seven stores presented their Michigan wine in separate sections ranging from adequate to gargantuan. (The lone exception -- Trader Joe's, home of Three Buck Chuck -- uses a business model that isn't a good fit for most Michigan-made wines.)

The larger the chain, the larger the wineries.  At Meijer, which hands over the most real estate to Michigan wine, the state's three largest wineries (Chateau Grand Traverse, Leelanau Cellars, and St. Julian) dominate the shelves; I counted ten different flavors of St. Julian Sparkling Spumante, at $3.79 apiece, plus twelve of their other wines.

At small stores, the reverse is true. Village Corner, owned by Michigan Wine Competition judge Dick Scheer, offers just four short shelves of Michigan wine. But they're chock-full of gold medal winners and other interesting bottles from smaller wineries, while the "Big Three" barely make an appearance.

Several retailers volunteered that they've noticed increased numbers of customers buying Michigan wines. "We have a fair number of folks coming in and asking for them," said Whole Foods Market wine manager Audree Riesterer.

Small wineries from Leelanau and Old Mission have exploded onto southern Michigan shelves. I expected to find -- and did -- such strong marketers as Black Star Farms, Chateau Chantal and L. Mawby. But multiple stores also offered bottles from Bowers Harbor, Brys, Peninsula Cellars, Left Foot Charley, Bel Lago, Chateau Fontaine and Shady Lane. A couple of savvy retailers specifically credited Mitten Distributors with sparking the move to launch smaller up-north wineries in the Ann Arbor market.

Just the opposite seems true for the smaller wineries from Lake Michigan Shore. Except for the moderately-represented Fenn Valley and Tabor Hill, there's a real marketplace gap here. But nearby wineries Lone Oak and Sandhill Crane -- both of which self-distribute to Ann Arbor -- make a good showing, along with the odd bottle from Cherry Creek.

A surprising number of older vintages, particularly among dry whites, remain on the shelves. With most wineries now into their 2007 release cycle, or at least finishing up 2006, it was odd to find so many 2005 whites for sale in multiple stores. I didn't take the time to inquire if these have been sitting (upright) on the shelves for the past year or two, or if they're recently-arrived distributor stock. But it's difficult to recommend that consumers purchase three year old whites of unknown provenance, even from an excellent vintage.

Despite the recent announcement of its availability to retailers, no store yet stocks any of St. Julian's Braganini Reserve line. A couple are stocking Chateau Grand Traverse specialty wines.

The new Whole Foods Market offers an in-store tasting bar -- a first in the area -- along with a pledge to keep several Michigan wines on the list. When I stopped by, their four Michigan offerings came from Lone Oak and Leelanau Cellars. I noted that the latter don't actually carry a Michigan appellation, despite the "Taste of Northern Michigan" on the label.

Most ubiquitous wines: L. Mawby Cremant and M. Lawrence Sex. Larry is everywhere.

Arrogance. It's hard to come up with a better word to describe the behavior of Wine.com.

If you saw MichWine's top story, you know they've unilaterally and publicly decided to stick their thumb in the eye of Federal Judge Denise Page Hood and start shipping wine into Michigan.

The Wine.com folks aren't naive on the subject of shipping. Last holiday season, they ran a private "sting" operation against 29 online competitors they accused of breaking shipping laws -- and turned them in to state authorities. This vigilante behavior earned condemnation by both consumer wine writers and those in the industry. A number of people even called for a customer boycott against Wine.com.

Now they seem to have flipped 180 degrees, and decided their interests lie in becoming scofflaws themselves.

But their current approach -- much as I disagree with it -- stems from a legitimate frustration they share with Michigan consumers over the antiquated, protectionist laws that govern wine sales. Far more than Wine.com, those laws deserve our antipathy -- and efforts for change.

Why? Thanks to a Prohibition-era legal anachronism, in the year 2008 I can go online and legally purchase anything from a new car to bullets for a .357 Magnum --  but not a bottle of wine from a store in Illinois.

That's because Michigan's wine laws protect and enrich a single powerful group: the distribution monopoly known as the Michigan Beer and Wine Wholesalers Association (MBWWA). This would be the same MBWWA whose members -- surprise! -- donate hundreds of thousands of dollars annually to the campaign chests and private PAC's of our state's politicians.

As MBWWA Executive Director Mike Lashbrook recently told the Wine Spectator, their attitude toward Michigan consumers boils down to this: We think our wine selection is pretty good. If we don't sell something, you don't need it -- and you shouldn't have a legal way to get it.

Yet Lashbrook whines in the same article that countless Michigan wine consumers simply ignore the law to order wines they can't find locally from out-of-state retailers. Retailers like Wine.com.

You gotta wonder if this poor guy feels any irony (or pain) straddling both sides of the fence simultaneously: We bring in all the wines that Michigan needs. And what about all those people whose actions prove otherwise? They're just a bunch of lawbreakers.

That rises to a level of arrogance -- no, let's call it hubris -- in a totally different league from the folks at Wine.com.

And it hurts our state. As during Prohibition, our failure to appropriately regulate and tax interstate wine shipment costs Michigan untold dollars in licensing fees and tax revenues that our state can't afford to lose. Not to mention the lost respect for a "public be damned" lawmaking process that created the current situation and leaves it in place.

Or, as the Grand Rapids Press editorialized last week:

What public purpose is being served by preventing adults from buying wine from their favorite wine retailer outside Michigan, provided they pay any required sales tax? The Internet, in particular, has made shopping across state and even national borders for all sorts of goods easier and more efficient. There is no reason to exclude wine from out-of-state retailers from the list of goods available to Michigan consumers.

As pundits nationwide suddenly "discover" Michigan wine, most often our Rieslings, I can't help but contemplate how Native Americans felt about Columbus "discovering" America.

Gee thanks, guys, but we already knew it was here.

Nonetheless, state wine lovers don't often get to compare our own top wines side-by-side with some of the big boys from elsewhere, to see how we stack up. It's even less often that folks in west Michigan have the chance.

That's why my calendar has the weekend of November 21 through 23 blocked off for the first-ever Grand Rapids International Wine & Food Festival. (Yes, they even got their priorities straight and put the "Wine" first.)

Eighteen Michigan wineries will pour at the Festival, the majority from Leelanau and Old Mission Peninsulas. Michigan's three largest -- St. Julian, Leelanau Cellars and Chateau Grand Traverse -- plan to attend, but so do such less-frequently-tasted boutiques as Bowers Harbor, Brys Estate, Left Foot Charley, Peninsula Cellars and Round Barn.

I'm looking forward to a first sample from Circa Estate on Leelanau Peninsula. The winery isn't yet open, but they've booked a booth at the Festival and rumors abound about two vintages in the cellar, ready to go.

Here's the fun part: at last count, nearly 100 other wineries from around the world also plan to be there. (Did I mention this was a BIG show?) So for the first time, I can taste New York's Konstantin Frank Riesling next to Chateau Grand Traverse and Peninsula Cellars. Or how about Italy's Santa Margherita Pinot Grigio alongside Left Foot Charley? Not to mention L. Mawby taking on bubblies from Freixenet to Krug Grand Cuvée.

One of my favorite local micro-brewers, Arbor Brewing, will pour its prize-winning beers and ales. And Grand Rapids' own Bar Divani will put together very limited-quantity three-course food and wine pairings each day of the weekend.

When your tasting energy flags, head to the educational seminars at the food and wine stages, the latter emcee'd by Tasters Guild President Joe Borello. Michigan luminaries Larry Mawby (L. Mawby) on bubblies, David Braganini (St. Julian) on Reserve wines, and Brian Cain (Viviano Imports) on "The One Hour Wine Expert" will be onstage, along with presenters on regions from Australia to Italy. I may also stick around for talks by Chef Eric Villegas or Tony "The Wine Chef" Lawrence.

The way I understand things, your $15 admission gets you in the door of Devos Place with an empty glass and a program / floor plan of what's where. All wine and food tastings are additional, via tickets sold á la carte -- which is French for "bring lots of money".

Still, for the price of dinner out with wine, I wouldn't miss this one.

If you're looking for a post about some great Michigan wines or wine-related controversy, this is probably an excellent time to click a different link.

Because there's a reason this entry is late arriving. On Tuesday, I was at the funeral of one of the great wine lovers I've known: my father-in-law.

Lewis spent the bulk of his adult life -- about 50 years worth -- in South Africa. The first time I met him, already married to his daughter and arriving in Johannesburg for our religious wedding ceremony, he threw his arms around me and exclaimed, "Welcome to the family!"

And then, with his next breath, "You've got to taste this incredible Sauvignon Blanc I picked up to serve at the reception."

He was like that.

In those days, he knew most of the folks worth knowing in South Africa's small wine circles. He chaperoned my first trip to the Cape winelands, arranging an afternoon with old friend Tim Hamilton Russell, founder of the eponymous Pinot Noir producer.

Tim -- proud maker of the first South African wine to sell for 100 Rand a bottle -- loaded us into his Land Rover for a cross-country bounce through the feinbos to the edge of his property, a ridge overlooking the small town of Hermanus with the Indian Ocean in the background. While Lewis beamed beside us, Tim explained how he'd spent years locating the perfect terroir to grow Pinot Noir -- a far-south setting where all the experts told him he'd be crazy even to try winemaking.

Years later, visiting Chateau Margaux, our guide -- asking where we resided -- responded to his "South Africa" by saying they had a young South African winemaking intern at the Chateau. Dragged from the back where he was playing cellar rat, it turned out to be David Finlayson, son of Walter from Glen Carlou winery -- and Lewis proceeded to regale Finlayson fils and the rest of the company with tales of visiting his father back when David was a young child.

His great joy was the annual "Budget Tasting" he conducted for the South African Society of Wine Tasters (SASWT) a group he and my mother-in-law helped to found decades before. His eyes gleamed with pride whenever he could pronounce a wine both "excellent" and "only 10 Rand" in the same breath.

Several years before they departed South Africa for Ann Arbor, the SASWT inducted them both as honorary life members. Upon arriving in their Ann Arbor condo, one of Lewis's first tasks was to hang their award certificate just outside the basement closet he planned to convert into his wine cellar.

He was -- ummmm --  charitable in his attitude toward Michigan wines on his early visits. Back then, he and I strongly disputed the relative merits of St. Julian versus Fenn Vallley Chancellor, two of the state's better reds of the day, and agreed to lay down bottles of each for several years to settle the debate. Ultimately the contest resulted in a draw: neither wine was drinkable when we eventually uncorked them to settle up.

Fortunately, he lived long enough to see Michigan begin to make superb wines. His last winery visits came in late August, when he was already quite ill, to nearby Pentamere and Cherry Creek, and he expressed great admiration for several wines we tasted at each.

In his final weeks, we unfolded a card table in the bedroom so that we could enjoy dinner -- and wine -- together. Just a week before he died, he dragged himself to the table, took a taste of whatever cellar gem we'd uncorked for him that evening, and said -- with a glint in his eye -- "Ah! That does wonders for the optimism factor!"

So here's to you, Lewis. I hope you're in a place where all the wines score over 90, and the vintages are never difficult.