Wining with Chris

The Wine Narrative

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You don’t realize it’s a trap right away. It’s not until you get sucked into the wine narrative as part of the larger discussion about alcohol does the penny drop with a thud. It’s a seemingly impossible debate of observational studies, conclusions, and statistics.

There is no way to say one way or another that science has proven alcohol is safe.

Science doesn’t prove anything. It merely makes conclusions about what it observes. Anyone suggesting otherwise doesn’t understand science. And remember the statistician’s mantra: Correlation isn’t causation. It wouldn’t be ethical for scientists to conduct experiments with any possibility of adverse health outcomes to test the potential negative effects of alcohol. All we have is observational data.

However, getting into an argument about whose numbers are better than the other’s isn’t worthwhile, either. We should be talking about our ace up our sleeve, instead. Focus on what wine brings to the table.

The Social Element

Perhaps wine’s greatest value isn’t necessarily its impact on physical health but our collective mental well-being. Scientists have long recognized the need for social interactions as we age. It improves our quality of life and helps to maintain good mental health. The fact remains that wine has a social history that doesn’t exist in the same way as other alcoholic beverages or, dare I say, pot.

Our reimagined wine narrative can home in on these unique elements. Consider wine’s role in history. The ancient Eg y ptians appreciated wine, with it playing a dominant social, medicinal, and religious role. Likewise, the Romans embraced wine and led the charge to the modern era of wine production and consumption. Let’s not forget Pliny the Elder’s wise words on the subject: “In wine, there’s truth.”

The Catholic communion sacrament places the ultimate reverence on wine as the blood of Christ. It figured in miracles, further demonstrating its importance. Collectively, these facts speak of wine being on a different plane than other alcoholic beverages. It’s been our companion on this journey called life for roughly the last 10,000 years.

Nature’s Way

Additional evidence for a new wine narrative lies in Nature. Remember that wine can literally create itself without human intervention. Yeast existing on the berries and vines can catalyze fermentation. It’s not an accident that animals consume fermented fruit without an evident ill effect, including chimpanzees. After all, humans share 98.8% of their DNA with these primates. The evolutionary distance isn’t that far apart.

Evolution has an excellent way of getting rid of elements that don’t belong or compromise fitness. The fact that humans and other animals can consume and digest alcohol is compelling evidence. Scientists have documented fermented fruit consumption in birds, elephants, shrews, black bears, and bats.

For humans, there hardly hasn’t been a lack of pressure to change due to the ill effects of overconsumption and alcoholism. Yet, we still consume alcohol.

Risk and the Wine Narrative

Life is a risk. There is nothing you can do that doesn’t involve taking chances. Granted, some are greater than others. However, even water intoxication is possible if you drink too much H2O. That brings us to the often-quoted saying of the Father of Toxicology, Paracelsus: “The dose makes the poison.” It also makes a strong case for moderation, which wine writers embrace.

None of us gets out of this world alive. Wine is a social lubricant and has fulfilled this role through the centuries. Perhaps we can go as far as Edward Slingerland suggests about the dangers of a sober society without it. The Latin phrase, in vino veritas, doesn’t exist without a good reason.

Think about how you enjoy wine. Maybe you share a bottle with friends you’ve invited to your home. You clink glasses of sparkling wine at a wedding. You might order a special wine to celebrate a birthday or anniversary when going out to a restaurant with your significant other. They are positive experiences, enhanced with wine. And what’s wrong with indulging in something enjoyable?

The point isn’t to make a case to drink alcohol. It’s about recognizing the otherness of wine. It doesn’t exist in the same way as it does with spirits and beer. Its story has taken a different trajectory. Perhaps that’s what we enthusiasts should cultivate as our wine narrative. Let’s stand up for what it is and not what it isn’t.

Wine is part of our history. Its associations have given it a special place. For all that it has given us, we should embrace the wine narrative that aligns with its story.

Photo by Klim M u salimov on Unsplash

Why Wine Is Worth the Effort

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Many of us join the wine world because of an ah-ha moment of extreme pleasure tempered with a feeling of having found something extraordinary. It’s as if a switch has flipped, illuminating a new world of taste and smell. But you may wonder, is wine worth the effort?

The answer is an emphatic YES! Consider what wine brings to the glass.

History Swirling in the Glass

People have been enjoying wine in some form for roughly 8,000 years. It didn’t go away. It flourished through the centuries of war, disasters, and economic upheaval. It’s a survivor. A glass of wine has a story to tell of the land that nurtured the vine, the people tending the vineyard, and the winemaker crafting the elixir.

A Universal Beverage

The diversity of people imbibing makes wine a global drink. It’s part of many cultures, religions, and even cuisines. Some foods, like French and Italian, evolved with wine. Thus, it is part of the community of sharing a meal or lingering afterward. It brings us together all year long and not just in October. What other beverage has this gravitas?

An Inspirational Drink

Wine has inspired poets, musicians, and artists. They have been drawn to its magic through the ages, praising it for all it is—a part of the life experience. Thomas Jefferson said, “Wine brightens the life and thinking of anyone.” Louis Pasteur reminded us that “A bottle of wine contains more philosophy than all the books in the world.”

How can such praise not sway you to at least check out what it may offer?

Welcoming to Everyone

You needn’t spend a fortune on a bottle to experience wine. That isn’t what wine is about. It celebrates with us, comforts us, and makes us happy. It doesn’t judge. Eleanor Roosevelt is often credited with saying, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” That includes the appreciation of wine being a special club, complete with a secret handshake and sayings.

It’s not.

Wine is a labor of love, from the grower pruning his vines to the harvesters toting bins of grapes to the winery to the winemaker deciding this wine is ready. It’s about sharing stories and laughter over a bottle. It’s about making a meal taste better, even if it’s just buttery popcorn with a glass of Chardonnay.

Wine brings new experiences to the table in a way no other beverage can. The so-called rules come from people but not the drink. A new world awaits anyone willing to uncork the magic.

Photo by Art Institute of Chicago on Unsplash

Savoring the Harvest

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Wine writer Jamie Goode, in his book “The Science of Wine,” put it best when he expounded on the miracle of plants creating themselves out of seemingly nothing but air, water, light, and nutrients from the soil. Take that mix of raw materials and chemical processes times 1,368, and you can appreciate the singularity of the vine.

However, sometimes, the vine needs some help when Nature challenges it. That’s how Marquette was born, a blue-black hybrid of Ravat 262 and MN 1094, themselves hybrids. The University of Minnesota developed this grandchild of Pinot Noir in 1989 to endure the harsh northern climate. The winters are the deal-breakers, with the average January low hovering around 10℉.

Hybrid grapes have suffered a bad rap, yet they still take it on the chin and keep producing. Otherwise, we Minnesotans might not be able to know the joy of growing regional grapes and making local wine with a sense of place. My connection with Marquette is an intimate one that I don’t share with any other grape variety. It’s a relationship cultivated by being there when a wine is born.

The Local Wine Experience

Our little neck of the woods is blessed with three local wineries. Each has similar offerings, with a tasting room and events. One implemented something different with its call for volunteers to harvest the berries.

My husband and I signed up with no idea of what to expect on that misty September morning. All we knew was that we were going to pick Marquette grapes. Fortunately, we brought gloves lest we get a crash course on anthocyanins. An employee gave us a tool to cut the bunches and a bin to collect them. We were told we could eat as many grapes as we wanted.

Marquette has smallish berries, but that doesn’t detract from their flavors of black fruits and spice with pleasing acidity. If you’ve never picked grapes, you should try it at least once if just to more fully appreciate the wine in your glass. It’s challenging work that will test your back. Shout out to all the people who help during the harvest!

Three hours and five bins later, we took a break for lunch, feeling a good kind of tired. The staff had piled our take in giant containers. Seeing your hard work is a unique feeling of accomplishment and kinship, as we all snapped photos of them. My relationship with Marquette deepened as I sipped a glass in the tasting room overlooking the vineyard.

Knowing my efforts would appear in subsequent vintages made me feel proud, even if the morning dew had soaked my socks and jeans. The work was hard, but I felt a connection to the grape and its wine as I looked into its inky color. I had never known this feeling. I had helped to make a future vintage. I became part of the wine’s story. And it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship I knew I would always cherish.

Another Harvest, Another Glass of Wine

There was no hesitation in signing up for the harvest the following year. I had to see how the grapes were doing. The year before struck my rookie’s eye as a tough year, with some bunches of rotten and shriveled berries. I came to the vineyard well-prepared with a raincoat and boots this time.

I walked directly to the trailer, picking up a tool and a bin. We picked the early-ripening Marquette again, much to my delight. I was ready to bond once again with my vinous friend. The berries looked big, bursting with flavor. The density of bunches was remarkably greater. It would be a good harvest, judging by the taste of the grapes. While I knew what to expect, it didn’t feel like work as much this time.

The wine tasted even better when we finished for the morning and enjoyed lunch. I bested my five bins with seven this time, making the reward of a meal and a glass of Marquette that much sweeter. We strolled through the rows of vines later as the staff carted the berries to the winery. I realized I knew this wine from the beginning of its journey to the glass. I witnessed its birth.

Marquette had introduced me to a new side of wine. I understood it better, noting the vine’s struggles to make it into the glass. Patches of downy mildew had taken a few, but the others endured, a testimony to their hardiness and all created from the simplest of ingredients. Marquette is a survivor with a promising future. The vines and their wine were indeed miraculous.

As we neared the end of the row, I stopped and touched the rough surface of the vine I had worked on only a few hours before. I was glad we decided to volunteer. The experience was a worthwhile stop on my wine journey. I would never look at a glass the same again. And Marquette had given me that gift of insight and understanding. No other grape had given me a raw glimpse into its soul.

I studied the vine, noticing the canes relieved of their burden and the scattered grapes on the ground for the waiting birds. Their calls filled the air as they anxiously sat perched in the nearby trees. I bent down to gaze into its canopy as I stroked its leaves, still damp from the morning dew. “I’ll see you next year,” I whispered.

Photo by Vindemia Winery on Unsplash

Wine and Its Curse of Knowledge

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The best and worst thing you can say about wine is that it’s complicated. Some relish its intricacies and mysteries. Others see it as a barrier. Usher in its curse of knowledge. The term describes the kerfuffle people often fall into when they throw themselves into a topic. They can’t get enough of it, learning everything they can about it.

Some call them experts. Others call them bores.

Wine writer Jamie Goode, in his book “The Science of Wine,” put it best when he wrote of the miracle of the vine, seemingly developing out of nothing. We can say the same of every living thing. It’s when we try to learn and, more importantly, try to explain it that we get into trouble.

Yes, wine can be complicated if you delve into the viticulture, to say nothing of wine law, geography, geology, climate, and winemaking. As writer Terry Theise puts it, “Wine doesn’t care how much you know about it.” It’s people who lead the way down a myriad of rabbit holes.

The Curse of Knowledge and Wine

When someone becomes passionate about a subject, the natural response is to learn more. It’s easy to do with wine, especially as you hone your tastes and discover the stories. Then something curious happens on the way to Rome. We lose our perspective as a newcomer. We become another victim of the curse of knowledge.

A wine enthusiast may seek out others of the same ilk to talk about the deeper matters. They don’t share these thoughts with casual wine drinkers because it may take too much explaining. Instead, they ruminate about terroir and tradition with fellow enthusiasts. Then, one day, they can no longer speak casually about wine.

Wine’s Need for Ambassadors

It’s not difficult to understand why wine might face headwinds. It’s had to deal with COVID, the rise of seltzers, RTDs, and CBD-THC drinks. That’s saying nothing about the war on anything traditional. Wine laws suddenly morphed into stereotypes. Let’s not even mention the confounding factors, such as climate change and the economy.

The fact remains that wine needs ambassadors. After all, it’s been a part of the human experience for thousands of years. It has been there during Mass, celebrations, and solace. It’s always been there to provide whatever comfort or support we’ve needed. It’s ingrained in our culture.

Breaking the Curse of Knowledge

Our growing knowledge of wine has been its saviour and curse. Learning more has helped people produce better and tastier products. Yet, it has also created barriers. Breaking down these walls is paramount to ensuring its continued existence.

Communication is the solution. We mustn’t assume when speaking to someone new to wine. Recently, I struck up a conversation with someone dipping their toes into the wine vat. When I mentioned the blueberry aromas I was detecting in a shared glass, he asked me why they added the berries to the wine.

I was reminded of Richard Feynman’s Technique. True understanding of a subject means being able to explain it in its simplest terms as if to a child. If you can’t, you may not understand it fully yourself. The ability to explain the presence of different aromas in a glass of wine qualifies as a topic to grasp fully before telling someone else about it.

Start with the basics. Don’t dive into secondary and tertiary aromas. Save the jargon and terminology for later, if at all. Remember that knowledge isn’t going to make the wine taste better, although it will help one appreciate it—when they’re ready.

A newcomer’s perspectives are often enlightening. I appreciate the acidity in wine, but it may taste of vinegar to someone not used to drinking it. Likewise, they may pick up on different aromas that I may have missed, like the faint smokiness of a toasted barrel.

Perhaps the greatest challenge to overcoming the curse of knowledge is letting go of having to share too much. Small bits work just as well. You don’t have to expound like the wine ~~snob~~ expert. Let the wine do the talking. It probably can say it better if given the chance.

Photo by Jaredd Craig on Unsplash

“Sleepy Thing“

Original watercolor on offer on eBay

Wine Writing and Qualifications

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A post by Henry Jeffreys about whether wine writers need qualifications to establish their cred. He cited the supposed unwritten rule by one reviewer that the WSET 3 is the minimum an individual should have to write in this field.

And as Jeffreys pointed out, tell that to Oz Clarke or Robert Parker.

Nevertheless, it’s an intriguing question. Part of the issue is the non-exclusivity of both fields. Many writers are experts in other fields. And not all wine afficiandos write about their passion. They may pursue it in other ways, such as speaking, reading, or research. “Yeah, honey, this bottle of wine is research.”

However, as any serious wine love will tell you, it’s often hard to put our passion into words. Let’s talk about what it takes to making a living with wine.

Job Qualifications

The debate reminds me of the catch-22 of applying for jobs. Some employers pick someone with a degree and no experience over a candidate with loads of experience but no degree. Which is more important for wine writers?

This question can lead to a debate of the benefits of the sommelier (via the Court of Master Sommeliers) or industry professional (via the Wine & Spirit Education Trust) versus the educational perspective of the Certified Wine Specialist (via the Society of Wine Educators) or wine scholars (via the Wine Scholar Guild).

I can’t speak to the sommelier route, although the WSET delved into food pairing right from the start. On the other hand, the CSW jumped head first into history, culture, and wine laws. The French Wine Scholar (FWS) went straight for the deep end of the pool on these fronts.

I have the WSET 3 manual. I remember being aghast at not having to know what appellations are part of the Côte du Rhône zone of production versus those outside of it. It was integral to the FWS. Of course, it’s a matter of time and the breadth of the material when covering the global scene versus one country. However, the CWS managed to dig deeper into each country and region.

The Focus of Wine Writers

Wine writers who have taken the educational path learn a lot about culture, geology, and geography. Much of it is heady stuff or as writer Felicity Carter puts it, “too much expertise.” Yet, we can rattle off the 13 permitted grapes for Châteauneuf-du-Pape or the number of times with dates that Alsace went from Germany to France and vice versa.

It may seem arcane and yes, nerdy, but it has value. It puts wine in a greater context. You can understand why Bourgogne (Burgundy) wines can be so expensive if you know how fragmented the vineyards became in the 19th century. You can appreciate the importance of vintages in Bordeaux when considering the climate and geography—and wine law.

Many wine writers focus on the wine, with little discussion about the bigger picture. Perhaps that’s fitting for a reader who just wants to find a good bottle to share with friends. Of course, that’s fine, but I’d like to take it a step further.

Understanding Wine Stories

The wine industry’s marketing focus has moved to the personal side. People want to hear from the individuals growing the grapes and producing the wine. They want it to be real instead of a mere product. But where do these stories begin?

It depends on the industry’s place in the country and history. California is a relative newcomer, with commercial success beginning in the 1960s. France’s story gets underway around 600 BC with the arrival of the Phocaeans. Many families have been making wine there for hundreds of years. These facts broaden the scope of the stories.

Many wine writers choose to live in the moment, providing detailed tasting notes for today’s bottles. Others want to know how and where the wine came to be. Qualifications are certainly one pathway to either goal. It depends what you want to get out of your wine experience.

Wine critic Alice Feiring looks to the soil for intel in the book “The Dirty Guide to Wine.” You won’t look at that glass of Pinot Noir the same way. This perspective allows you to experience the importance of place or terroir by sampling bottles from different areas.

Final Thoughts

Wine is more complicated because of the many decisions made in the vineyard and winery. That’s what makes digging into these stories so fascinating. While qualifications aren’t imperative for wine writers, they bring new insights to the table. Experience and travel to various locations are another way to get more out of that glass of wine.

Wine has been our companion for over 8,000 years. She has a lot to say. Wine writers with experience and/or qualifications are her mouthpiece. Invite the grapes and enjoy the discussion!

Photo by David L. Espina Rincon on Unsplash



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