07/16/2024
In the wine trade, some folks categorize certain wines as “premium,” which inevitably evokes gasoline in my literal-brained mind. “Value,” and “luxury” are other terms of parlance, but they don’t evoke much at all—value is nearly empty of signification, other than the SuperValu supermarket chain (RIP); luxury, for some reason, evokes a velvet-lined casket holding glinting gems that only the few, the elect may pour through their hands with a cackle. These are economic categories with price points attached to them: a value wine is under ten dollars on the shelf, whereas a luxury wine will set you back fifty or a hundred dollars. But the quality of a wine is not a static value, not the donnée. If you hold a Franzia bag-in-box aloft and guzzle straight from the box, lips around the spigot, and declare it to be the best damn thing you’ve ever put in your mouth, I can’t argue with you—you do you. I can’t feel lousy for not drinking all the fine, aged Burgundy that I know, just know in my heart that I truly deserve because I am not a rich man. I do get to drink good Beaujolais, Lambrusco, Loire chenin, Austrian furmint, Langhe nebbiolo, etc., etc. with regularity, but when do I ever pause and regret that I am missing out, “I’d really rather be drinking Lafarge Volnay”? Now, back in the day, Europeans required wine, as it provided significant calories to an oft meager diet. Today, despite Thomas Jefferson’s assertion that wine is a necessity of life, no one need drink wine. To be sure, for nearly every human being on earth a twenty, or even ten-dollar bottle of wine is an impossible luxury. That said, with some simple, reasonably priced wines, depending on context, the phase of the moon, the vagaries of your neurochemistry, the hedonic pleasure-o-meter’s needle goes to ten, and there is no 11. You could die a happy person at that very moment as you drain the bottle (but please don’t, I like having you around). It is a profound mystery how yeasts and bacteria transmute what would otherwise b a delicious fruit juice into something like this, and how is it that a simple, ugh, “value” wine can, at times, be every bit as momentarily luxurious as a jewel in a casket?