Monday Tasting Notes: Albariza en las Venas

We stepped out of the train station in Jerez onto wide, white sidewalks—modern, engineered, and indented for reasons I couldn’t guess. The sky had begun to darken, the air hinting at rain. We walked faster, hoping to reach an apartment we’d never seen before. But we were deceived—not by the sky, but by the sidewalks.

Those bright walkways soon narrowed into gray concrete ribbons so slim we could no longer walk side by side without brushing against others. Then came the cobblestones, demanding full attention: their unevenness, the subtle shifts in elevation, the rounded stones pressing through the soles of our shoes. The streets grew narrower still, and we had to dodge the side mirrors of passing cars. There is no mindless wandering in Jerez, where cobblestones can trip you and car mirrors can leave you with tennis elbow.

In Jerez, deception hides around every corner. A cramped street opens suddenly into a sunlit plaza. We were startled to find a Mercadona supermarket inside an old sherry cathedral. The city holds an interior life that reveals itself slowly, piece by piece.

I first heard of Albariza en las Venas from an importer. The phrase means “albariza in the veins.” Albariza, a chalky white soil, defines the region—it nourishes many of its wines, most famously sherry. To say one has albariza in the veins is to say the land, the wine, and the history flow through you.

If you passed Albariza itself, you might not think to go in. It doesn’t announce itself as a wine bar—or even as a bar at all. I’d call it a bookstore, except that the shelves hold bottles instead of books, and the tables have been replaced with stools.

Rocío and Juan Carlos, the proprietors, greeted us as though we were old friends returning after years away. When Juan Carlos asked what I wanted to drink, I left it to him. He mentioned they’d hosted a tasting earlier that day—would I like to try it? Of course I would.

Like Jerez itself, Albariza is full of discoveries. Once synonymous with sherry, the city today embraces much more: non-fortified wines, wines aged lightly under veil, vermut, and food that feels both traditional and new.

I didn’t take notes on the wines that day—only photos. Sometimes you can’t stop to process; you just have to be there, tasting, talking, moving through it all as it happens.

Jerez deserves more than a quick stop. It deserves more than a tour of its bodegas. It deserves to be walked. To hear flamenco drifting from an open door. To stand beneath the orange trees outside the cathedral. There’s a younger generation shaping this city now, giving it a warmth and welcome that make you want to stay.

What I’m Reading: Erin Ortiz

Wine is political. Wine is the commingling of natural resources, agriculture, politics, science, class system dynamics, and so much more. If you want to get a sense of wine as an academic subject, the publisher Routledge has many titles, including The Routledge Handbook of Wine and Culture. This book’s collection of essays will have you rethinking what you know about wine. Especially intriguing is Marion Demossier’s essay “Climats and the Crafting of Heritage Value in Burgundy Terroir”. 

Because wine is political, we can’t ignore the detrimental effects of the current administration on almost every sector of the industry. Because wine is political, I recommend reading Erin Ortiz’s article written for Fractyll. At the intersection of wine and ICE raids, Erin’s article titled “Ice Protests Heated Up This Year, So Why Is The Climate Cooler In Napa Valley?” poses a question we can’t ignore. We know that Napa has become a bastion of money and privilege. In the article, Erin questions whether money and privilege have allowed Napa to escape some of the tactics used by the government.

Apples and Pears

I walk cities, and I am curious. I wander past places and stop in to ask questions. That instinct—to pause, to inquire—comes from my experience in sales and a general curiosity about almost everything. I often find myself stopping in front of all sorts of places: a falafel shop, a shoe store, a café I’ve somehow never noticed before. There’s always something new to discover when you step out of your door and walk down a familiar street. Even if you’ve been there before, the world changes just enough to surprise you.

Our apartment overlooked a small neighborhood park, tucked into a quiet corner of Paris that didn’t attract many tourists. One afternoon, wandering back to the apartment, we took the street that ran just behind our building. A storefront caught my eye—it had something to do with alcohol—so of course I stopped in. They invited us to return the next day to meet someone who could tell me more.

At eleven the next morning, we returned and were greeted by a man eager to talk about Calvados.

Calvados, an apple-based brandy from northern France, has long been one of my favorite spirits. In my opinion, an excellent Calvados can easily stand in for Cognac or Armagnac.

The storefront we’d stumbled upon was a new venture by a group of young entrepreneurs launching their own Calvados brand, called 30&40. We sat down to taste through their range and talk about what makes the spirit unique.

Cider apples used for Calvados tend to have more acidity, and there are more than 300 varieties grown in the region. About 400 producers make Calvados, though three large houses account for 80% of production. Among the best known are Busnel and Boulard.

There are three AOCs for Calvados:

  • Calvados AOC, distilled in a simple column still, represents about 85% of total volume.
  • Calvados Pays d’Auge, double distilled in copper pot stills like Cognac, makes up around 12%.
  • Calvados Domfrontais, about 3% of production, must include at least 30% pears.

Since the mid-1980s, it has been legal to include pears in Calvados, and many producers do.

Tasting Notes:

Eau de Vie de Cidre de Normandie IGP “Blanche de Normandie”
Clear, transparent. 45% alcohol. Mild apple flavor. Blend of two ciders. Column still fruit. Beautiful flavor of apples on palate. Intense Poire Willliam flavor. A little cinnamon note on the nose.

Calvados Extra Old 10 Years Old
Minimum 8 years for Extra Old. Ages for them 10-28 years. Pretty caramel color. French Limosin oak. Mild aroma of apple. Pretty apple flavors. 42% alcohol. Light flavors on palate. Not overwhelming. Elegant.

Calvados Ferme des Parquets Single Cask
48% alcohol. Pays d’Auge. Light clear yellow. Subtle aromas—more subtle dark nuts or fruits. 60 varieties of apples. A little hay on the nose. Reminds me more of a whiskey. 

Calvados AOC Single Cask Nicolas Garnier
This 15 year old is done in a column still dating to 1913. Very light caramel color. 54.8% alcohol. Light aromas of apples. Intense flavor which comes thru with the alcohol and some pears.

Calvados AOC 
This 25 year old is vintage 1993 at 45.5% alcohol. Single column distilled. Clear caramel color. Beautiful aromas that are intense and surprisingly easy and pleasant. About 5000 bottles made per year.

Double Jus
At 23% ABV this is Calvados mixed with cider and apple juice. Medium caramel color. Ripe apple aromas. Delicious flavors, easy to drink. Can be used in a cocktail or on its own over ice. 

What I’m Reading: Monocle

My local library carries Monocle magazine, and I often wonder who in that building decided our small town’s readers deserved such finely tuned perspectives. Monocle manages to feel hip without the self-referential coolness that weighs down some other magazines. Maybe it’s the honesty of the writing—even if much of what it covers is out of reach. (For example, I still want the adorable all-electric Mitbot from KG Motors.)

Tyler Brûlé, Monocle’s Editorial Director and Chairman, used to write a column for The Financial Times. That’s where I first discovered him years ago. In one summer column, he included a playlist, and ever since then, one song—“Summer Time Love” by m-flo—has been a favorite of mine. It’s still the perfect soundtrack for driving on a summer day, heading somewhere fun.

Monday Tasting Note: Maine’s Fall

We’re watching a band play, though they’re more background than main event. My husband loves live music; I don’t always love it—or even like it. Still, certain songs manage to work their way into my head. I don’t usually listen with intention, but when the music is truly good, my brain takes notice.

The pub has a decent beer list displayed on one of those rotating TV screens that never stay up long enough to read. You have to wait for it to cycle through a few times before deciding. I settle on a Guinness Stout on tap.

The music isn’t so loud that I can’t hear my husband, but it’s loud enough that the bartender has to lean in to ask for our order. He and I start talking about Maine Beer Company’s seasonal Fall release.

Whenever someone mentions Maine Beer Company, it’s usually to praise their Dinner, quickly followed by Lunch. But the bartender describes Fall as something like an Imperial without the high alcohol punch. I ask for a taste. On the nose, there’s a grassy coffee note. The sip follows with a bitter coffee edge that fades, then returns—a flavor yo-yo, but in a good way.

I don’t agree with him, though. It doesn’t remind me of an Imperial; it’s more like a cold porter. Too cold, really. The bitter coffee lingers, but I can’t help thinking the flavors would open up more if it weren’t so chilled. Some beers just shouldn’t be served this cold.

I return to my Guinness. A man takes the seat next to us, and conversation drifts between his food order, my husband getting up for a better view of the band, and me jotting down notes. That rhythm carries through the night until, eventually, the man and I are deep in conversation about music. He asks me about Bad Bunny.

I have a lot to say—not so much about Bad Bunny himself, but about what he does on the album DTMF. I tell him I’m working on an essay about my fascination with it, as well as the questions it stirs in me about being Puerto Rican in the diaspora, here in Hartford.

Photo: Maine Beer Company

What I’m Reading: 9/24/25

The Situation and the Story by Vivian Gornick

The crafting of a story feels like I have a Rubik’s Cube that I toss in the air, and while it is out of my hand, the small squares are turning and trying to align before returning to my hand. When I am not actively writing at the laptop, I am thinking of the writing. I am thinking of how my story relates to a bigger truth. I am thinking of how the story relates to things past and how it might relate to the future. The latter is more difficult than the former. 

When writing about wines and spirits, the past informs the present. Wines do not exist in a vacuum. How we talk about wine and how we write about it is informed by historical context. How we tell those stories and how effectively we do it is not easy. 

The shaping of a story starts as a thought. It feels like an unformed idea that, if I am honest, I am not likely to have been the first one to have thought it. But am I the first to go through with it? There are so many thoughts that go through my head in trying to make that Rubik’s Cube do what I want it to do. The truth is, I can only shape it. I can form what I already have into something. The cube has multiple combinations, and my story is only one.

Alicia Kennedy recommended the book, The Situation and the Story by Vivian Gornick*, during her highly instructive The Self-Edit Workshop. Kennedy uses her own work to illustrate the editing process when a writer does not have an editor. I learned quite a bit, and I highly recommend attending whenever she offers it.

This book is about how to write a story that serves the story and the reader. It dissects what makes a story worth reading or hearing. Whether we are writing about books or wine, how we tell the story matters. 

*She won a Windham-Campbell Prize in 2021.

Monday Tasting Notes: Sanlucar/Barbadillo

Sanlucar de Barrameda is not the kind of town that shouts “welcome”. It may not even feel like you are being welcomed at all. The bus station is quiet with only the woman at the concession stand. It looked like nothing much was going on. Perhaps it was because mid-March is not exactly high tourism season. 

Sanlucar sits at the mouth of the Guadalquivir river on the Bay of Cadiz on the Atlantic Ocean. We arrived in the morning while things were still closed. Meandering down to the beach we reached the boardwalk. The national preserve Doñana is a short ferry ride away. I love towns in the morning before all of the activity starts. We passed people walking their dogs as the day started to warm up. We met an English speaking couple from the UK and we chatted a bit which pleased my husband since he does not speak Spanish.

Later on we visited Barbadillo* which is an old house that has been revitalized. The extensive tour and the tasting we did included a variety of wines. Non-fortified wines from the Cadiz seem to be everywhere and so was the excitement around them.  You could spend a lot of time in this region and never taste a wine from outside of this area. I highly recommend visiting Sanlucar and the entire region surrounding Jerez de la Frontera.

1a Manzanilla Ecologica Salicornia 1/27
Clean white wine that is closer to wine and not fortified. Wild fermentation. About three years in bottle.

2a Manzanilla Solear 1/1086
To final stage primera clase. Really generous but shart with typical finish. About six years old.

Toto Barbadilla Espumoso de Albariza (Sparkling)
Palomino Fino and Chardonnay on Albariza soil.

Alba Balbaina 2022
100% Palomino Fino. Six months on the leese. Deceiving nose but like chardonnay on the palate. Very, very good.

Solear Manzanilla
Classic. Popular. Really lovely. Easy. Excellent

Manzanilla Pasada en Rama Pastora
Aged longer than Solear for total of eight years. Color is oxidation. Dry like tea. Some nuttiness comes thru. New word: “hinojoso” means fennel

Amontillado en Rama
Manzanilla pasada aged becomes an Amontillado. Fino/Manzanilla is oxidized. Toffee nose. Nose is aging characteristic. High acidity and finish is super dry. Hazelnuts.

Oloroso en Rama
Slightly more intense nose (walnuts). A little more unctuousness. Aged oxidatively.

Palo Cortado Obispo Garcon
Aged 15 years. Intense, complex nose. Medium. Nutty. Dried Indian spices.

Ataman Vermouth
Manzanilla with a little Oloroso. Beautiful nose. Fucking gorgeous. Gorgeous.

*Discloure: I work in a wine shop and the visit was arranged via the distributor Skurnik Wines.

Monday Tasting Notes*

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Sherry divides drinkers. Some like sherry, and some don’t. The problem is that sherry is not just one thing. It is a multitude. A multitude of styles, flavors, price ranges.

I arranged a visit to the cellars of Lustau via industry contacts. Is it different to taste wines in situ? Absolutely. Jerez is worthy of a longer visit than the usual recommendation of a stopover.

Here are some notes from the visit to Lustau, which has long been known for its range of sherries.

Almacenista Amontillado
Aromas of nuts; brown. Super high acidity, caramel nose. Mixed nuts finish and then salty. Aged in Puerto de Santa Maria about 15 years old

Manzanilla Papirusa Sanlucar
Clean fresh on palate. Really beautiful. The aroma is so different from the mouthfeel but on the palate really delicious. Really lovely.

Fino Jerez Jarana
Slightly nuttier nose. Richer mouthfeel. Lower acidity?

Fino del Puerto
More salinity on the nose but with a touch of the nuttiness.

VORS Palo Cortado 30 Years Old
Beautiful color. Subtle aroma. Beautiful mouthfeel. High acidity. Clean dry dry roasted nuts (mixes)

Emperatriz Eugenia Oloroso
Aromatic nutty nose. Very dry, high acidity. Spicy finish. Temperature cold.

VORS Moscatel 30 Years Old
Very sweet. Some acidity on the finish which becomes more pronounced on the finish. Not my favorite but appreciate. Very heavy. Rich.

Vermouth-Red
Amontillado and PX and Moscatel. Wormwood, gentian, orange. Delicious. Also vermouth was pretty much everywhere we went and it became our daily afternoon drink.

Interesting things told to us:

  1. Sand floors. Watered once a week, 2-3 times during the summer
  2. Over 17% alcohol yeast will die
  3. Bottling is done from the bottom
  4. Age of Fino-2 years per DO (Denominacion de Origen)

*I write tasting notes in blurbs and rarely in complete sentences. What comes to my mind is what I write.

Skurnik Grand Portfolio Tasting: Swirl, Sip, Spit

Wine tasting as a professional is work. I’m not saying it is brain surgery type of hard work, I’m not even saying it is pharmaceutical rep hard work. After all, if I tell someone that the blend in a bottle of wine is 60% cab and 40% but it is 50/50, there is really no consequence. If a pharma rep gets the facts wrong, it can have major consequences. 

Last week I attended the Skurnik Grand Portfolio Tasting. There were 190 tables. 1041 wines, 324 spirits, 34 sakes. I know from social media that one wine snuck in so it was a total of about 1400 adult beverages. The tasting was open for 5 hours. If you wanted to taste everything you would need to only spend an average of 1.57 minutes per table or about 0.28 seconds per item. That would be assuming you didn’t listen to the wine representative tell you about the wine, you don’t take notes, and you don’t have to wait behind other people who are waiting to talk to some of the most popular people such as Pax Mahle, Cathy Corison or Raul Perez.

This means that you absolutely cannot taste everything. I started by tasting some champagne from Mousse and then moved on to Becky Wasserman. 

The notes I take at such large tastings are not thorough but they are evocative of emotions I have about the wines. The logistics of tastings can become complex. The move to digital tasting books means that you are trying to type on a phone and manage a spit cup and a wine glass. I use a notebook and pen. Also now instead of writing the name of a wine I write a number starting with one and take photos so the order of the wines follows the photos. It is a juggling act of glass, spit cut, pen, phone, notebook. A click pen is best and a thin moleskine-type notebook that measures 5×8.5.

After tasting thru the Becky Wasserman wines, I focused on Spanish wines, stopped to see some other people because of a personal interest, and left after several hours. Did I want to spend more time tasting French wines to see what they were like and see how climate change has affected them? Of course! Did I want to do the same for German wines? Once again yes. Maybe in two years when they do the Grand Portfolio Tasting again, I will focus.

The following are my shorthand notes on the wines I tasted. There is no way to taste at events like this and give everything your undivided attention. You can attempt to evaluate but the first thing I think is “Do I like this wine or not?”, do I want to sit with friends and sip it? I think more complex wines that would develop in the glass and continue to evolve are challenged by large tasting such as this. The caveat to that of course is that you have to know what you are tasting. Wines from certain areas might take time to mature so you have to use your imagination.

*Yes. I use swear words in my private notes but I will figure out a way to give the same emphasis without saying “fuck”.

Becky Wasserman & Co

Jean Baptiste Boudier Pernand Vergelesses Blanc 2021
Lots of acidity. Complex in a mild way. 

Chateau de Plaisance “La Grande Piece” 2021 Anjou Blanc
On the label is “Ronceray”, that is code for dry Quarts de Chaume. Beautiful wine. Sharp.

Antoine Sanzay “Les Salles Martin” 2020 Saumur
Dry, lots of acidity. Feel like tannins.

Domaine Marcel Deiss, Complantation 2022 Alsace
Beautiful wine. Love this.

Domaine Marcel Deiss, “Ribeauville” 2021 Alsace Village Blanc 
Another beautiful wine. 

Domaine Marcel Deiss, “Engelgarten” 2022 Alsace Cru Blanc
High acidity

Domaine Marcel Deiss, “Schoffweg” 2018 Alsace Cru Blanc
Love this

Domaine Marcel Deiss “Le Jeu des Verts” Gruenspiel 2021 Alsace Orange
I gave this 3 stars (Stars are one of my shortcuts). Amphora, no additional sulfur added. Beautiful nose and mouthfeel. Dry finish.

Domaine Marcel Deiss “Schonenbourg” 2019 Alsace Grand Cru Blanc 
Fucking delicious

Chateau de Plaisance “Sur La Butte” 2021 Anjou Rouge
Fucking beautiful nose. So tasty.

Antoine Sanzay, “Les Poyeux” 2020 Saumur Champigny
Cabernet Franc. Liked this.

Corison
2019 Cabernet Sauvignon
Lovely

2020 Cabernet Sauvignon
Beautiful

Kiki & Juan 
Orange 2022 (Liter)
Macabeo and Sauvignon Blanc. Decent tasting

Red 2022 (Liter)
Bobal and Tempranillo. Crisp, bright tannins. Good

Spanish Delights*
*the name of this particular table, not the importer/supplier.

Bodegas Arautava, Arautava, Listan Blanco 2022
Holy shit. Love

Bodegas Arautava, Finca La Habanera, Listan Blanco 2021
Beautiful wine.

Dominio do Bibei, La Pola, Ribeira Sacra Blanco, 2020
More fruity. Really pretty.

Escabeces, Cartoixà Vermell, Tarragona, 2021
Interesting delight. Not sweet. Grows on you. I wanted to taste this because I am on a mission to go to Tarragona and visit the Museu del Vermut Restaurant

Bodegas Arautava, Arautava, Listan Negro, 2022
Intense tar like

Bodegas Frontonio, Garnacha Blend, Telescopico, 2020
Beautiful wine.

Goros, Tempranillo, 2020
Delicious

Beyond the Spanish Delights were the Spanish superstars of Raul Perez, Artadi, and La Rioja Alta. In between all of those was Finca Torremilanos* Tasting with Vicente Peñalba of Finca Torremilanos was such a nice experience. Vicente, along with his brother and mother, runs the winery.  Per Vicente, the wines are all organic and biodynamic.

Speaking the language of the winery I think brings one closer to the wine. Anyone who speaks a language fluently I think, knows that the conversation can be deeper and more exciting. One of the advantages of speaking Spanish is that there can be a comfort level in talking to Spanish winemakers in Spanish. There is a generosity and facility in conversing with someone in their language. It also allows me to practice my Spanish and enhance my Spanish wine vocabulary. 

Finca Torremilanos/Peñalba Lopez

Finca Torremilanos, Vino Blanco, ‘Peñalba Lopez’, 2022
Beautiful wine with no sulfites added.

Clarete ‘Ojo Gallo’, 2022
Awesome wine with no sulfites added. This is a clairet is a blend of Tempranillo (50%), Garnacha/Cariñena/Bobal (10%), Albillo/Viura/Malvasia/Airen (40%)

‘Montecastrillo Tinto’, Ribera del Duero, 2022
Easy drinking with tannins on the finish.

‘El Porron de Lara’, 2022
100% Tempranillo. Delicious wine, a fun label. No filtering, no fining, no sulfites added.

‘Los Cantos’, Ribera del Duero 2020
Easy drinking but tannins show.

‘Torremilanos’ Crianza, Ribera del Duero, 2019
Could use some time in the cellar. 2% Merlot

‘Cyclo’, Ribera del Duero, 2020
Elegant but needs time. Good spice on the finish but not hot.

‘Torre Albeniz’, Reserva, Ribera del Duero, 2019
Beautiful nose. Age worthy.

What does it mean to push the boundaries when writing about wine?

Auditing a course at my alma mater has become routine. I sign up and I learn things. I’ve taken French and an anthropology, a translation course as well as one on the role of the senses in literature. The classes have been like discovering that there is a bug under a rock rather than a blender. In other words, yes I have learned things but they were as expected.  The seminar World Histories of Wine, taught by Trinity College history professor Jennifer Regan-Lefebvre was not like the courses mentioned above.

When I stepped into the classroom with about ten undergraduates I expected that the course would help me with my book proposal. I thought I would be examining how histories are put together and what they entail.

What the class did was make me question whether, during my wine sales career, I’d been a stooge for the overall patriarchal and nationalistic nature of the wine industry. If not a stooge, perhaps a mouthpiece for countries that have long held a monopoly on the hegemony of wine.

The seminar was not a wine appreciation course. We did not discuss the grassy undertones of a sauvignon blanc, the lanolin-like qualities of a chenin blanc, or the brioche-like qualities of an older champagne. 

Per the syllabus, “This seminar explores the history of wine, a young and growing research field. We will consider how wine has been produced, traded, and consumed in both continental Europe and the “New World” since circa 1600. We will try to view wine through comparative and world history approaches. Topics will include: approaches to commodity history; wine, terroir and the construction of national identity; protection and global markets; technological change and modernisation; networks, trade and information exchanges; and the creation of consumers and experts.” That description and what the class entailed is like the difference between eating beef Wellington and making one—the former is easier than the latter. 

In class, we examined wine as a commodity just like milk, cheese, sugar, or tea. Yet, we cannot look at those commodities without looking at the political struggles, the colonizing effects, or the economic impacts that affected such commodities.

The course pushed the boundaries of wine writing because the literature we read was mostly written by scholars in such fields as cartography, economics, anthropology, political science, and other academic fields.

The course allowed me to juxtapose the wine reading I have done and examine my career in wine and spirits. The course ended up being a deep dive into wine as a beverage composed of yeast and sugar as well as politics, economics, and culture.

The evaluation of wine as both a cultural subject and a commodity was a unique way to introduce undergraduates to the subject of wine without the marketing hype or romanticism usually attached to it. I was surprised that some of the students were familiar with the sabering of champagne, various cuvees of Dom Perignon, and celebrities associated with luxury wine brands. The same student who sabered champagne at her grandmother’s birthday did not know that Argentina makes wine. The Eurocentric world of wine is a constant at a school that once held a sherry hour following academic and social events.

 The seminar revealed some of the chasm that exists between what some college students knew about wine, how they learned about it, and what the academic readings entailed.

We did not read any Clive Coates, Alice Feiring, or Hugh Johnson. There were no readings by Andre Waugh, Andre Simon, or Andrew Jefford. 

There were two required books. The first was Paul Lukacs’ Inventing Wine: A New History of One of the World’s Most Ancient Pleasures. The book was used to discuss the structure, what questions were not answered, and whether the book added anything new to the body of knowledge. Lukacs is a professor of English and has been writing about wine and culture for a long time. 

The second book was James Simpson’s Creating Wine: The Emergence of a World Industry 1840-1914. Per Princeton University Press, “This is the first book to trace the economic and historical forces that gave rise to very distinctive regional approaches to creating wine.” Simpson is a professor of economic history. 

Both books served as contrasts in what we were looking to do in class. While Lukacs’ book is more popular and currently ranks overall at 982,308 on Amazon, Simpson’s book is more academic and ranks at 2,567,041.

I recognize that the readings we did were in English but we have to ask ourselves what are we missing when we only read in one language. Despite the English-only articles, the writers wrote about Argentina, France, Algeria, South Africa, Portugal, etc.

We read approximately 20 academic papers that added to our collective knowledge of ideas. With each article, we added another perspective and I kept having to think about how my historical book proposal was going to have to consider not just such things as transportation, the elevator, and refrigeration but also politics, science, and chemistry.

Despite the seminar being set in the History department, I think that the seminar also pushed the boundaries because the readings were multi-disciplinary. Quite often departments operate in silos but in this case, anthropologists, economists, geographers, and architectural historians contributed to the overall syllabus. Here are some examples of the readings and their titles:

Marion Demossier’s “Climate and the Crafting of Heritage Value in Burgundy Terroir”.  Demossier is a professor of French and European Studies and a social anthropologist. One would be hard-pressed to read this article and not think about the price of burgundy, politics, and nationalism.

Paul Nugent’s “The Temperance Movement and Wine Farmers at the Cape: Collective Action, Racial Discourse, and Legislative Reform, C. 1890-1965” Nugent is a professor of Comparative African History. The article discusses the temperance movement, the wine industry, and race. The wine company KWV, familiar to wine drinkers of a certain age, played a role in the temperance movement, the wine industry, and racial politics.

Daniel Gade’s “Tradition, Territory, and Terroir in French Viticulture: Cassis, France, and Appellation Contrôlée,” Gade was a professor who taught geography at the University of Vermont. He stated that his “aim in this article is to present a concrete case of how the patrimonialization process works to construct a unique sense of place and to shape rural environment and society.”

Joe Boehling’s “The Sober Revolution: Appellation Wine and the Transformation of France.” Boehling is a professor of history at Portland State University. We read the chapter titled “Appellation Wine and the Transformation of France.” It examines wine drinking and how a variety of organizations and entities worked to increase consumption along with strengthening an allegiance to French wine.

We also read two non-wine related commodities pieces: Sidney Mintz’s Sweetness and Power: The Place of Sugar in Modern History and Deborah Valence’s Milk: A Local and Global History. From my non-class reading, I would also add Erika Rappaport’s A Thirst for Empire: How Tea Shaped the Modern World. These readings have allowed me to look at commodity histories that are not as personal and to consider how one shapes the telling of a tale.

Although wine is an ancient practice, we study it in the present. In the wine industry, we prefer not to be inconvenienced by the historical or political controversies of a wine region except as it moves the sale forward. We instead talk about vintages and regulations without consideration of the politics or the culture. When we do speak of wine in the past it tends to be about vintages and climate and less about the politics and the economic structures. 

The seminar also pushed the boundaries of wine because none of the people writing were in the wine business or in the business of writing about wine. Demossier, Nugent, Gade, Boehling, and others consider wine an academic subject to be examined holistically and not separate from its environment. Geography, anthropology, and economics have been applied to the commodity of wine. Wine as cultural history without the gloss of glamour or the marketing jargon allows us to understand wine within political history, economic boundaries, and ethnographic studies. 

Without using the word “decolonization” the course disavows what we have been taught in numerous wine appreciation courses, promotions by regional wine bureaus, and wine dinners sponsored by importers, wineries, and distributors.

It is not enough to know about wine as a separate entity divorced from the state and it is not enough to know the history of wine as presented by popular books. Dispelling romantic notions of the history of wine allows us to reexamine what we already know as well as introduce a younger generation to wine. The romanticism of wine obscures the reality that people in power have shaped our understanding of wine as it is now. Even as wine becomes much more popular there is still the association of it with luxury. As a product, wine’s luxurious image or even its referral as “an everyday luxury” is at odds with its very agricultural and yes, political status. Wines such as burgundy, champagne, and port have entered our consciousness as luxury products divested of the struggles that have occurred in the corresponding regions.

As I expand my knowledge of how I write about wine and spirits,  I cannot ignore other pieces that play into the history of wine as a commodity. Asking ourselves such questions as what is transportation like, what is the price of labor, what is the price of equipment and raw materials, all contribute to a better understanding of wine. Does the rising price of steel make equipment more expensive? How do tariffs impact one particular sector of wine but not another? It may not be as fun as writing a tasting note but at least I can be aware of what the total non-monetary cost of the wine is.

We cannot separate political science, geography, and economics from the world of wine. Wine cannot “stay in its lane” because wine does not spring forth from the ground fully formed and in the bottle. Wine is as much a commodity as sugar and tea, both of which have histories we don’t think about because their tumultuous histories have made their way into the quiet cup of our morning lives.

“World Histories of Wine” pushes the boundaries of wine and it has pushed me to consider wine from a broader angle. When I write about wine now, I have to think, “What else is in this bottle?”