Why Wine Still Matters, And Always Will
In a world full of doubts and uncertainty, wine continues to bring us closer.
Written by Eric Asimov
Artwork by Pat Thomas
Why wine?
It's a great question, especially now. People are reported to be drinking less. Public health groups warn that alcohol is bad for you. And for many people, wine is too often expensive, confusing and intimidating. So, what keeps us coming back to it? Why do some of us not just drink wine, but find ourselves continually fascinated by it?
Above all, wine is delicious. It can be delightful on its own, but it's even better with food because it makes everything taste better. It can be simple, or it can be complex and nuanced. But good wine is a pleasure, and you don't have to know anything about wine to enjoy it.
But just as important, wine is meant to be shared. It brings people together and enhances any sort of gathering, whether a book club, a poker game, a date or a meal. Hanging out with your friends is great. Hanging out with your friends and enjoying a bottle of wine together is even better.
Wine has been important to humans since the dawning of civilization. Scientists have traced the first domesticated grapevines back 11,000 years, right around the time that nomadic humans settled down into agrarian communities. From the start, wine was more than just a drink. In ancient Mesopotamia, wine was offered to the gods; in Egypt, it was buried in tombs for the afterlife. The Romans spread it across Europe with such success that it became a symbol of civilization itself. Wine wasn’t just a drink, it was tied to ritual, trade, religion and community.
And for much of human history, it was also practical. Up until roughly 150 years ago it was safer to drink wine than water and so was essential to life. We don't need to drink wine to survive anymore, but we choose to because it can be beautiful on so many levels, whether as refreshment, because its flavors fascinate and surprise, there's the deliciousness again, or, in rare circumstances, it can be stunningly profound, inviting contemplation and even tears.
That leads to the inevitable question: is wine good for you? I don’t know how to answer that. Wine co-exists in my world with good food and good company, which in turn coincides with regular exercise, getting enough sleep and other elements of what I hope is a healthy way of living. Wine makes me happy.
Of course, it's not without risk, but what is? We take modest risks every day—crossing the street, getting in a car, eating a bacon-cheese burger and fries. A sedentary life, microplastics in our food, forever chemicals in our water, too much stress in our daily lives, these all seem more hazardous than a glass of wine or two.
The key, as we have been told forever, correctly, is balance. Too much wine, like too much of any alcoholic beverage, is dangerous. That requires self-awareness and discipline.
For me, the rewards of wine have been endless. I've been transported to the hill towns of Tuscany by a glass of Chianti Classico, to the steep, slate slopes of the Mosel Valley by a good riesling and to the languid heat of Andalucía by a glass of Manzanilla. Wine can also take you on a journey through time, if you are fortunate enough to have an old bottle. Once, I drank a glass of Bouchard Père et Fils’ 1929 Volnay Caillerets, harvested in the year of my father's birth. He had been dead for a long time by then, but I suddenly felt unaccountably close to him.
Nothing is required of us to simply enjoy a glass of wine. But it can be so much more than a pleasant drink. A good bottle of wine is an invitation to visit other cultures, to learn about history and geology, agriculture, the environment and above all, nature. If it had not been for wine, I would never have delved into the wonders of soil, of plants and trees and how they communicate, into the intricate balance of the natural world and how dependent that balance is on every single element, no matter how microscopic or huge.
I love beer and spirits, but it's only wine that has given me this joy. Maybe that's because when I drink wine, it's almost always with food and with family or friends. It creates community.
Wine also unites a global network of small farms and businesses in a world that seems overwhelmed by multinational corporations. Not that wine doesn’t have its share of giant producers. But it's the small independents who are most satisfying. I'm constantly inspired by the growers and producers who farm conscientiously and who make wine that reflects where it's from. Winemakers like Do Ferreiro in Rías Baixas, Istine in Chianti Classico, Steve Matthiasson in California and Jean and Alex Foillard in Beaujolais are just a handful of many producers whose wines carry a clear sense of place.
When I think about people's reasons for not drinking wine, I can't blame them. Of course, we are concerned with our health. Yes, wine has been made to seem too complicated. And, absolutely, it can seem too expensive.
But then I think about what people are missing. It's not the intellectual satisfaction that wine can offer, though that can be gratifying. It's not all the arcane grapes, methods and places that sommeliers like to recite in wine bars and restaurants – make it stop! No, it's the soul-satisfying, gut-level pleasure. In the end, wine is delicious.
And sometimes, like that Burgundy I drank a few years ago, it can offer something even deeper, a quieter moment of connection, a bridge to memory, a glimpse of beauty that stays with you.
