Some boxes are just classier than others, for instance those from Tiffany & Co., Birks, and Godiva. Now clap your eyes on the one from Pentâge, and push the package's pouring spout for some very tasty Pinot Gris of the 2006 vintage.

If you've browsed this corner of your newspaper for any length of time, you'll know that your correspondent is not one of those commentators who get hyperventilatory over $500 Bordeaux and the like. Give me a good 10-buck Bordeaux and let's talk. Which also means I don't have the slightest preference regarding screw caps over corks, boxed wines over bottled–whatever makes the wine taste better, keep longer, pour quicker, et cetera.

So when this one arrived I was all for it. A little boutique winery in Penticton overlooking Skaha Lake, Pentâge–owned and operated by Paul Gardner and Julie Rennie–doesn't produce a lot of wine (6,000 cases is its eventual target), so you wouldn't think it would go in for a boxed wine. Nevertheless, despite its small size it managed to produce 10 different single varietals or blends, including Pinot Gris, hence its just-released "Premium Wine in a Box"–a sleek three-litre black-and-silver-with-red-accents package.

Why? Convenience is factor one, for the consumer as well as the restaurant trade. Three months plus is the anticipated shelf life after opening; I can't imagine a reason you'd want to keep a wine undrunk that long, myself.

Environmental friendliness is factor two: the three-litre pack is 38 percent lighter than four glass bottles (which hold the equivalent volume) and has 98 percent filled-pallet efficiency, beating glass by 40 percent. The packaging takes a lot less energy to make as well as move, and it's as recyclable as glass.

And does it ever look good! Most wine boxes are squat, clumsy-looking (even though they fit in the bottom of the boat better), and covered with lurid colour printing–all functionality, not much design sense. Like, you wouldn't wear one to the Oscars. But with a slim profile like a coffee-table book, rectangular instead of square and squat, Pentâge's fits better in the fridge next to the milk, the juice packs, and the big jar of salsa. The spout has single-finger operation and pours in a nice easy stream, without a lot of fizzy bubbling.

Some of the Pentâge wines have been seen and tasted in astute restaurants about town–even Wild Fennel, my local on Mayne Island, pours it–but for some reason this new boxed Pinot Gris is the first wine from this label that's crossed my palate. And after the initial surprise and appreciation of the package came delight at the taste.

It's a cool, crisp, dead-clean Pinot Gris, that, despite its relatively high alcohol content–13.5 percent–is well-integrated and harmonious, with nothing out of place. It's refreshing and full, with plenty of rich fruit flavours like pear and apple; it even calls for traces of orange peel, which I couldn't find, but perhaps the super-garlicky stir-fried chicken and greens got in the way.

Price? You had to ask, didn't you? It's $67.80 per box, but consider that it's the equivalent of four 750-millilitre bottles (which cost $18 each, so it's actually a four-buck savings).

I can see this one sitting comfortably and handsomely on the summer dinner table, as well as on the deck, even in the backpack. And–not that I expect this to happen–if it could ever get down to $40 a box, I can see it sitting on my table most nights of the week.

Check your neighbourhood VQA store or the winery itself in the Okanagan Valley for your steady supply, and let's make a toast to the new word for class-act boxed wine: Pentâge.

Speaking of class acts, there's a new name behind the burners at Burrowing Owl Estate Winery's wonderful Sonora Room Restaurant, not far from Oliver. Not new to British Columbia foodies, but new at the winery, Bernie Casavant has come to town. It's no secret that one of the Okanagan's best wineries is home to one of its best little restaurants, and now one of the country's best chefs is stirring things up in a tasty way.

Owners Jim and Midge Wyse got to casting about for a new culinary presence for their place some months ago. They picked the right guy–if there's any single person who can be said to have created a culinary presence in Whistler, it has to be Bernard Casavant.

After many years there he was in the mood for a move, and Burrowing Owl made him the famous offer he couldn't refuse. The Sonora Room established a heady buzz from the day it opened in 2003; the Okanagan's the place for wine touring, and Casavant loves matching food with wine.

The chef's philosophy is as straightforward as it has always been: "Keep it simple, feel the food. Treat people how you would like to be treated, be humble, as after all, it is all about good food, good techniques, and good if not great staff." Add a whole winery full of good wine and you've got some serious combo. Can I get a table for four for the first sunny Sunday in June?

The Sonora Room has always been worth a visit, but now it's a must-stop during your wine-country summer touring; book ahead, since others have the same idea. While you're there eating all that great Casavant cooking, sipping all that terrific Burrowing Owl wine, and getting all lazy-afternoon philosophical, check out the little critters the winery is named for. The Burrowing Owl Conservation Society of B.C. is a most worthy and appreciative wildlife-conservation cause to get involved in. You'll find the society at www.burrowingowlbc.org/.