DoNotWhine - Perspectives

Wine is complicated. I’m not a wine person. I like whites, not reds. Reds give me headaches. I don’t like Pinot  Noir, it’s too sour. It’s an expensive habit. I have no idea how to pair wine with food. And perhaps the one I hear most  often: I just like bubbly. These are some of the most common responses I’ve heard from family, friends, and acquaintances. Most people have developed a fixed opinion about wine that can be surprisingly hard to change. It’s not entirely their  fault. The wine industry, and, if I’m being honest, many people who know just enough about wine, have helped create the aura that wine is inherently complicated. That it requires a certain level of sophistication to enjoy. That your nose needs to identify every flower, herb, fruit, and spice imaginable, and your palate must distinguish butter, brioche, wet  leaves, vegetal notes, minerality, and umami. By the way… what is umami anyway? Is that even a word people use in everyday conversation? Th...

It was our 25th wedding anniversary, and I had decided this was the year we’d finally make our bucket-list trip to Bordeaux. Before I ever booked a flight, though, I kept hearing the same things over and over.  “Bordeaux is out of reach.” “They’re arrogant.”  “They think they’re the best in the world.”  “They look down on New World wines.” “The French aren’t exactly known for being welcoming.”  In other words, Bordeaux had somehow earned a reputation for being the most intimidating place a wine lover could visit. Well… spoiler alert. None of that turned out to be true. Not even close.  Since it was our silver anniversary, I wasn’t about to compromise on the itinerary. If we were going to Bordeaux, we were going to dream big. So I reached out to the very best. Château Margaux—arguably one of the greatest red wine estates in the world. Château d’Yquem—the legendary producer of Sauternes that U.S. President Thomas Jefferson reportedly couldn’t get enough of. Châtea...

One of the most travelled routes is US 101 from Silicon Valley to Southern California (Los Angeles,  Santa Barbara, etc.). It’s about 360 dry, barren Central Valley miles of almond farms and fruit  orchards, and if you doze off or blink, you’ll miss a place called Paso Robles. At first, what seems  like an old western outpost turns out to have some of the finest soil on the planet and, with a little  help from Mother Nature via the Templeton Gap breeze, has the perfect recipe to grow a plethora of  grapes from the very light and fragrant Grenache to the boldest Cabernet Sauvignon and everything  in between. But the soil and the wine are only one part of the story. The other and more relevant part of the story is the people, the winemakers, the laborers, the hospitality workers. Our first trip to Paso, I did not know what to expect, but I vividly remember it was around July 4th; it  was almost 100 degrees, dry as a bone. I went optimistic, armed with a...