It’s easy to fall into a rut. And ruts are not all bad. Part of making a home, of settling in, of building community is forming habits. I enjoy certain repetitions, look forward to picking up a half-dozen speckled eggs from the butcher every Friday, or peering into the vintage shoe boutique on my way to work, or folding laundry mid-week to the sound of NPR.

But habits can also become blinders, keeping us from straying into something new and completely wonderful. So I appreciated Eric Asimov’s column on Savennières greatly. The more wines you taste, the more they begin to remind you of each other, even when they bring in a new element or level of complexity. They are delicious reminders, reminders of places you wish you’d never left and bottles you wish were never emptied. But it becomes increasingly rare and refreshing to find something that is wholly unfamiliar.

We’ve picked up two Savennières so far. Both are delightful, distinctive wines unlike any Chenin Blanc I’ve tasted before. We will thoroughly enjoy becoming familiar with them, because though may lose their novelty, they will lose neither their inherent appeal nor their complexity.