azing on the indescribable blue of the infinite Sea of Cortez at the southern tip of North America moves me to contemplate a bit. Among the many thoughts that the petty pace of a vacation allows is the noticeable void in the world of wine. The notion comes to me as I take a sip of a delicious Viognier made in the Guadalupe Valley of Baja, California, just as a gigantic wave crashes onto the beach a hundred yards away, which incredibly rocks the villa where I’m staying.