This blog focuses on real, honest wine made from crushed grapes, with an occasional nod to craft beers and other alcohols—the “ardent spirits,” as Thomas Jefferson called them. But mostly wine, in its myriad incarnations and variety of styles. My interest in wine, over more than four decades now, has never flagged because wine is not static; it constantly changes—new vintages every year, new wines from emerging regions. The wines themselves change, especially reds, revealing layers of flavor and nuance of taste and aroma. I’m often astonished at the vivid fruit and lush texture of wines from the 1980s and 1990s.

Wine is a song of the earth, warmed by the sun. It will sing in your glass if you let it—whether a simple, fresh, lyrical quaff like Pinot Grigio, a dry rosé, Beaujolais-Villages—or something deeper, richer, more profound like well-aged cabernet sauvignon, red Bordeaux, Burgundy, Barolo—symphonic, operatic. More probably, something in between: a wine to sip and relax with, one to complement an everyday supper or weekend brunch. Wine is meant to give pleasure, enhance food, lift the heart, promote camaraderie and good conversation, joy in the moment. That is its sole reason for being. It is a life brightener.