Cabernet Sauvignon, Chardonnay and Pinot Noir are royalty among the world's grapes. Then there's Muller-Thurgau.

Never heard of it? Well, you've probably drunk it, perhaps in your youth. The wine writer Jancis Robinson once described it as "decidedly mediocre but gruesomely popular."

More recently she has toned down a bit, simply calling it "the bane of German wine production." It was New Zealand's most widely planted grape just 15 years ago, until winemakers there came to their senses and replaced just about all of it. In a world where easy pronunciation and cute labels are becoming more and more important, the name is pronounced something like mew-lehr toor-gow, with emphasis on MEW. Trips right off the tongue, doesn't it?

So here's the question: Why in the world did we bump into one Muller-Thurgau from Oregon recently in a suburban wine store and another at a fine Greek restaurant with an excellent wine list? The answer says something about some of the odd wines and good values everywhere for consumers willing to take a risk.

Muller-Thurgau was developed in Germany in the late 19th century by a Dr. Muller from the Swiss town of Thurgau, though considering the reputation of his invention, he might as well have been Dr. White from the town of Zinfandel. He wanted to make a grape that was as good as Riesling but as reliable as Sylvaner, so he crossed them (though it turns out he might have accidentally used a different grape than Sylvaner). The result was an early-ripening, prodigious grape that winemakers everywhere quickly embraced because they could produce a lot of it at low cost. The problem was that the wine made from the grape tended to be dull. Remember the Liebfraumilch of your youth? Oh, go ahead, admit it. Well, chances are Dr. Muller was hiding behind that Blue Nun.

This isn't unusual. Some of the world's most widely planted grapes are types you may have never heard of because they're used as filler to add bulk or as an ingredient in inexpensive blends. The top three red wine grapes in California in terms of amounts crushed in 2005, for instance, were Cabernet Sauvignon, Zinfandel and Merlot. What was fourth? Rubired, which adds color. So when we saw an Oregon wine with the tongue-twisting Muller-Thurgau name proudly displayed on the label, we figured it was worth a closer look.

We started with what we'd heard is the current gold standard of Muller-Thurgau: wines from the hills of northern Italy, especially the Trentino-Alto Adige region. These aren't easy to find. So we headed to a fancy Italian restaurant in Manhattan with a great wine list. We had seen online that the restaurant had an MT, so we figured it would be a good one. (OK, no one calls Muller-Thurgau MT.

But until the past few years not that many people in the U.S. had even heard of Austria's Gruner Veltliner and twice in the past month salesmen in stores have urged us to try a "Grun Velt," so we're trying to get a little ahead of the trend here.) Indeed, on the list was a 2004 Muller-Thurgau from Kofererhof in Alto Adige. Now, for anyone who has ever written to us to tell us they worry about pronouncing the names of wines, imagine having to say, "We'll have the Kofererhof Muller-Thurgau." It cost $36 and it was a revelation. Our notes: "Flinty, with some melons and dirt but brighter than we had expected. Earthy but not heavy, with real vitality. Surprisingly juicy, with some white pepper."

The downside: The sommeliers treated us like we'd ordered Two-Buck Chuck. They worked so hard at avoiding our table that they seemed to be concerned that the wine had cooties. One even asked if we knew anything about the grape, a polite way, we guessed, of asking, "Do you know what you're doing?" When we said yes, he fled. That wasn't the reaction we would have expected.

Later, in stores, we found several more Muller-Thurgaus from Italy and, one after another, they were very good. The best was 2004 Pojer & Sandri "Palai" from Trentino, which was lively, with a nose of gardenias and earth, great minerals underneath, plenty of lychee and kiwi fruit and a light finish. The minerality of the wine reminded us of seashells and we thought this would go great with seafood, especially at an outdoor summer event. Here's the best part: It cost $14.99, a true bargain for such an interesting and tasty wine. (Like all of these wines, it is rare. Two good places to look for any wine are wineaccess.com and wine-searcher.com.)

It was time to check out the Oregon offerings. Oregon has shown a little more interest in Muller-Thurgau than other states. Around a dozen wineries make it from 100 acres or so. They tend to be inexpensive -- almost always under $10 -- and the wineries recommend them for simple summer quaffing. (Muller-Thurgau took the prize for productivity among Oregon wine grapes in 2005, with 3.8 tons per acre, almost twice as much as the average of all grapes.)

We finally found eight of them and conducted a tasting. Unfortunately, we'd have to report that, based on our small sampling, we wouldn't guess the Oregon MT trend is likely to spread much. The wines, in general, tasted fairly bland. Some had been left sweet, but they didn't have enough acidity to pull it off, making them somewhat ponderous. There were a couple of exceptions, however. Airlie Winery's was nicely made, pleasant and easy to drink, with clean tastes and some nice flavors of white peach. It was a good deal for around $7. Our favorite was 2004 Chateau Benoit, which is a good thing since it also appears to be the most widely available. "Fruity, with lots of white peach and kiwi," we wrote. "Fleshy and juicy, with some minerals. Real fruit and good acidity." It cost $8.75.

Chateau Benoit, which is owned by Pinot Noir specialist Anne Amie Vineyards in Carlton, Ore., makes 4,000 cases of Muller-Thurgau from an old vineyard that has been attacked "quite badly by phylloxera," which kills vines, general manager Craig Camp told us. Of the 20 acres planted by the first owners of the winery, Fred and Mary Benoit, only six acres of the vines have been grafted onto roots not infected by phylloxera, and are therefore safe. The others are being replanted and a new label is in the works to make the MT "a tribute wine to Fred and Mary," Mr. Camp said. The wine is distributed in 24 states and sells out every year, he said, explaining: "There's a very loyal market for it. It's a very pretty little wine."

He added: "Muller-Thurgau only gets so good, so we try to make it as good as it will get."

So the bottom line of our little tasting is that if you happen to see a Muller-Thurgau on shelves, especially from northern Italy, don't let the name put you off and don't worry about trying to pronounce it, because we'd guess the wine merchant can't pronounce it, either. Will it be a great wine? No. Will it be a more interesting, memorable wine than most Chardonnays and Pinot Grigios you will see at the same price? You bet. Our larger point here, though, is that there are all sorts of unusual grape types out there that are worth trying because they're different, potentially very good -- and often good deals because they're not popular. One of the best wines we've had in our real, off-duty life recently was a Cinsault, an unusual red, from Frick Winery in California. We'd bought it at the winery last year and opened it a couple weeks ago and we were delighted. Cinsault is sometimes notable for a burnt-rubber quality, but this had none of that. It was clean, crisp, deep and highly drinkable. Some American wineries now are making wines from Pinot Meunier, a dark-skinned grape best-known for its role in Champagne. From time to time, we see Petit Verdot and there's more American Malbec all the time. Try something new. It's fun.

Unusual stuff: There's always something new on shelves from other countries, too. Wines from Lebanon seem somewhat more available these days. We've often written about our old favorite, Chateau Musar, from the Bekaa Valley. Then, a couple of months ago, we were at an Indian restaurant where, to our surprise, they were pouring Chateau Kefraya, another old friend, by the glass. Just a week later, we were in a wine store and ran across a Lebanese label that was new to us, Massaya "Classic" red wine, for just $10.99. We picked it up -- it's a blend of 70 percent Cinsault and 30 percent Cabernet Sauvignon -- and it was excellent: light on its feet, with blackberry characteristics, plenty of earth and a notably dry finish. It was a drink-now, informal wine and an excellent deal -- yet another indication that the best buys in wine are often the unusual ones.