I DON’T think I’ve been any place where drinking sparkling wine is as ritualistic as in Italy. Meals with even the slightest claim to ceremony must begin with spumante, even if it is pushed aside after a few sips. They often end with something sparkling and sweet as well, like a bright moscato d’Asti, likewise ignored after a couple of tastes.

Italy also has its tradition of vivace reds: fresh, effervescent wines that are consumed throughout a meal. These wines, unlike the prelude and finale, are gulped with gusto. Many are regional curiosities, like Gragnano, a fizzy red from Campania, but one of these red sparklers is more widely known, and deservedly so: Lambrusco.

Yes, Lambrusco. Hey, relax! I don’t mean the candied, fizzy wine that sold so many millions of cases annually in the United States in the 1970s and ’80s, consigning the term Lambrusco to that special place of contempt otherwise reserved for wine coolers and fortified street wines. I mean real Lambrusco secco, dry, earthy and slightly bitter yet joyous and refreshing, beloved by millions in Emilia-Romagna.

I have been on a genuine Lambrusco kick for some years now, and I’ve been delighted to see delicious evidence of its rebirth here in New York. Restaurants dedicated to the hearty, rich cuisine of Emilia-Romagna, like Via Emilia and Osteria Morini, offer extensive lists of Lambruscos and an opportunity to drink it in a reasonable approximation of authentic conditions. Where five years ago I would have been hard pressed to find a handful of Lambruscos in stores, now I can easily put my hands on a few dozen different bottles.