Today we all are on a journey of perseverance. Our reigning Commander-in-Chief has put before us the challenge to pull up boot straps and get back to work. But I’m a freelance writer, so the way I see it, I just need to spend less money. For my contribution, I’m separating from my deepest, longest lasting affair. My rock. The love that has stood by in good times and bad, which has guided me in the dark, and made the bright times even brighter. I’m separating from Champagne. How does this help the problems at hand? I am maintaining control over my own personal economy, that’s how.

If my friends and family are reading this, they’ll think my mind has spun out of orbit. You see, I have long run with a pack who champions bubbly as an all-the-time pleasure. And I still do. My heartsick separation from Champagne has nothing to do with a dip in my eternal amour for the sensation of fresh biscuits and spiced honey percolating across my willing palate. It has strictly to do with economics. For the first time in my life, I’ve sat with pen and pad, hammered out expenses, and begun the unsavory process of strikethroughs. Among other biting cuts, my unjustly robust Champagne budget has taken a distasteful punch. Sigh.

So do I keep drinking my favorites and imbibe less often? Ha! No. Instead, I’ve had to find something I can love as much, for less. Which means I’ve taken a serious look at – and taste of – sparkling wines from other regions, made by other methods, and am relieved to have found a surprise solution in which this fickle bubbly snob can relish. In a word: prosecco. Or rather, prosecco!

I don’t mean to negate other sparkling wines. Spain’s Cava, made in the traditional method, can be quite satisfying and inexpensive, but for subjective reasons didn’t make the cut on my Great Champagne Replacement Hunt. Examples of domestic sparkling wine can be found towards each end of my “Top 20 Favorites,” but the price point of our countrymen’s fine craftsmanship doesn’t help the situation at hand. Prosecco is Italy’s answer to my woebegone cries. To be clear, Prosecco is not like Champagne. Nor does it strive to be like Champagne. And in this time of economic disaster, I’m not looking for a Champagne experience.

Prosecco, made from grapes of the same name (and a couple/few others on occasion), comes from northern Italy’s Veneto. Or it should, anyway. If you’re interested in a long-lasting love affair with prosecco, don’t buy offerings from countries that aren’t Italy. And if you can, stick to prosecco with the easy-to-spot DOC labeling around the top of the bottleneck. DOC is a designation given to wines that meet specific standards, like where the grapes are from (in this case Conegliano-Valdobbiadene, that is, the town of Conegliano, in the district of Valdobbiadene), how the wine is aged, and how much of the prosecco grape is in the bottle (must be at least 85%). Note that there are some fine Italian proseccos out there without DOC recognition.

Unlike the mousse of fabulous Champagne, a nice Prosecco has an effervescence I like to call frothy. In the best examples aromatics are subtle, but not simple. Citrus and melon fruits, and florals dominate, and the lasting mouth feel is clean and refreshing. The acidity will never be the racy version found in bubbly made in the traditional method. Prosecco is made in the Charmat method, which doesn’t require the lengthy bottle aging of the Champagne method. Prosecco is much softer, and shines when consumed young.

Prosecco caught my eye, and then my heart with its light, cheery attitude. It’s happy; it’s fizzy. It doesn’t shy away from my southern cooking. It’s a lively companion with brunch, lunch, and dinner. It’s the original fizz of the classic Bellini. It’s been around for ages, and never made a kitschy fuss for attention. I fell for prosecco because I can easily stay in the magic arena of under $20. In fact, since I live near a great wine shop, I can hover around $10. For all of that, my strikethrough budget rallies to a victory cry: Cin cin! See you on the other side, friends!