Wine intimidates people. This won't come as a big shock, but it always surprises me nonetheless. I'm part of the problem. I love the whole experience of wine, and yet I obsess about trivia and tasting notes. It's the last part that tends to show up in my writing, and in the work of wine writers everywhere. Would-be wine lovers see our obtuse prose and turn away, convinced they'll never know enough about wine to have an opinion. We don't just need to write better. We need to help people recognize that wine is nothing more than a beverage to enjoy with friends and good food, an attitude you'll barely find in Wine Spectator and its ilk.
We who want to share our passion with readers should take lessons from John Brecher and Dorothy Gaiter, the popular wine columnists at the Wall Street Journal. I don't take a subscription to the paper, but I'm considering it after reading Love by the Glass, their memoir and book-length love letter to each other and the world of wine.
I couldn't read this book without crying at regular intervals. I'd often stop reading briefly to let an overwhelming moment pass. The book isn't sad; even as they fight fertility issues and health problems they retain a sense of humor. But their passion for each other is deep and powerful. Maybe I'm just a softie, but you try keeping a dry eye as you read their separate accounts of John finishing the New York Marathon, virtually in last place, in agony, late at night.
If you make it through that one, I'll up the ante. Read some of the thousand responses they got after the first "Open That Bottle Night" column, where they urged readers to uncork bottles tucked away for a special occasion. "Make the wine itself the occasion, and let us know what you thought." Go ahead, tough guy, keep your composure as you read about the son that opened a bottle his beloved father never got to taste. Or any of the other stories.
I imagine their readers couldn't help but open themselves to John and Dottie, because John and Dottie always open themselves to their readers. They share their lives with the Journal's subscribers and this book's readers because to them, you can't talk about wine without sharing something of yourself. When they approached their twentieth anniversary, the Journal ran pictures from their wedding, and John asked their readers which of ten bottles he should open. Do you see anything like that in mainstream wine writing? Indeed, John and Dottie's writing seems more blog-like than mainstream, with its responsive audience and intimate look at another person's life.
But if they can't talk about wine without talking about themselves, they also can't talk about themselves without talking about wine. The chapter titles are the names of wines symbolic of that era of their life. Sometimes they're "junk" wines, but that's not the point. Wine has always been there for them, and they will cheerfully tell you that you don't need to drink rarefied bottles every night; wine enriches your life no matter what. Few books convey that so well.
I would love to foster that attitude. John and Dottie are the wine writers we need to emulate, because they're the ones who connect with everyday drinkers rather than the small group that reads a lot of wine media. Don't pay attention to us wine geeks; just grab a bottle and try it with a good meal. With your family, with your lover, with your friends, by yourself. And if you need inspiration, read how John and Dottie did it all their lives. Just make sure to have a hankie nearby.