There is a discernible dip in temperature, leaves are falling from the trees and pumpkins are popping up on porches throughout the neighborhood. Fall is finally here. There is just something about the onset of autumn that resets my palate, sliding the meter on my taste buds from white wines to reds. The varietal transformation is complete the moment my wife changes the sheets on the bed to flannel. It’s as if I have some sort of oenophilic Pavlovian response to our down comforter that makes me crave red wine.