| Appreciating Wine in Context | | | | By: Alder Yarrow | << back Page 2 of 3 next >> |
Humanity and History
Beyond the bottle and grape, beyond the geography of origin, all wine is irrevocably embedded in a human context: Someone tilled the soil and pruned the vines. Likely, more than one someone. All wines have a human history, that of the people who made them and of other wines made by the same hands. A complete understanding of the wine in your mouth must also include this history. Of course, the ordinary wine consumer may never know anything about who made the wine beyond the (unrecognized, or even unpronounceable) name on the label. They may never learn the two-hundred-year history of that family’s winemaking, or the personal history of the winemaker who started as a field hand, picking grapes. Such things are not essential to everyone’s enjoyment of a wine as it goes down the hatch, but they certainly are to my own, and should be to anyone who considers themselves serious about the enjoyment of – let alone the criticism of – wine. A wine review without the story of whom and where the wine came from is merely a bunch of barely meaningful adjectives and one of those numbers that everyone loves and hates.
Culture
An acquaintance of mine has more than once bluntly uttered the phrase: Wine is culture. And how could it not be? It is the drink of kings and pharaohs, the salary of Roman soldiers, the sacrament through the ages. In most places around the world with a history of more than four hundred years, the identity of wine and the identity of place are inextricably bound together to the point of singularity. The often frustrating (to the novice) wine names from France, Italy and Germany are both wines and towns, and when you pour yourself a splash, you are taking part in the evolution of a culture from a specific place and a specific time. Ever wonder why Pinot Noir from California and Pinot Noir from Beaune, Burgundy taste different? The answer, once you get beyond the terroir, has to do with their cultural contexts, which are manifested concretely in the rules governing winemaking in each place, as well as subjectively in the traditions embodied by the winemakers in each region. Stylistic differences between wines can merely be a product of winemaking decisions, but quite often they run much deeper than that.
Muscadet and oysters. Chianti and lamb stew. Rioja and tapas. More than just good ideas, these “traditional” pairings were not simply inventions of experimental epicures – they were produced by a specific place and time. Before the wine world was globalized, and before the Californian and Australian wine regions were a glimmer in anyone’s eye, most people drank the wines of their local village, or if they were adventurous, their local region. It’s no surprise, then, that those wines often evolved as perfect complements to local fare and to local palates. To say that wine must be understood in this context would be overstating the matter, but how is it possible to ignore it? More importantly, how can wine critics, and even wine lovers, dismiss the importance of understanding where and when a wine comes from in the fabric of world culture?
Emotion and Memory
Even the most casual wine appreciators have often had a “perfect” wine experience. For many, such an experience is the gateway to a deeper appreciation for wine. You know what I’m talking about. That simple picnic on the grass during your honeymoon under perfect blue skies. That half bottle of wine you picked up at the deli on your way. The light, the love of your life, and the wine that never quite tasted as good as that moment (even though you bought several bottles to bring back home with you). The final layer of context for the wine we drink encompasses our own psychology, emotions and memory. The best tasting wines I have ever consumed, and ever expect to consume, are always in the best of company.
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