Where Exactly Are We Going?

Plus, Why Wine Matters

Karen with Carlo Mondavi of RAEN Winery

Hi Everyone.

It’s the first night of the year and I’m sitting in my kitchen, alone, a  potato baking away in the oven, a glass of Champagne (Gosset) and another of Willamette Valley Pinot Noir (Big Table Farm) within reach, chicken thighs marinating in Asian spices. My Scottish grandmother had exactly one spice in her kitchen—cinnamon. Sriracha was not on the Scottish playlist.

Do you know the Dr. Seuss children’s book Oh, The Places You’ll Go? Like lots of children’s books, it’s an adult book in disguise.  Where will I go this year? Where will you??

And I don’t mean actual places. I mean places of the mind; places of intent; places of emotion; places of caring; places of togetherness. For me, the ribbon that ties these all together is wine.

It’s an odd feeling to think you’ve written about wine your entire (almost) adult life and yet have not said well enough, fully enough, what’s most important about wine. Of course, it’s not easy.

I tried when The Wine Bible was first published. That first edition came out just three weeks after the World Trade Center imploded in a terrorist attack on September 11, 2001. The country was in shock. I was on a book tour. All I kept thinking about—after agonizing and grieving for my friends who died (no one above the 92^nd floor survived and several of the restaurants were above that)—all I kept thinking was, given everything now: does wine even matter? why does wine matter? Here’s what I wrote:  

What is it about wine that I hold so deeply? What is this endless attachment?  Perhaps it is this: I love wine because it is one of the last true things. In a world so distraught, so painful; in a world digitized to distraction, a world where you can’t get out of your pajamas without your cell phone, wine remains utterly primary. Unrushed. The silent music of Nature. For eight thousand consecutive years, vines clutching the earth have thrust themselves upward toward the sun and given us juicy berries, and ultimately wine. In every sip taken in the present, we drink in the past—the moment in time when those berries were picked; a moment gone but recaptured—and so vivid that our bond with Nature is welded deep.

Wine matters because of this ineluctable connection. Wine and food cradle us in our own communal humanity. Anthropologically, they are the pleasures that carried life forward and sustained us through the sometimes dark days of our own evolution.

Drinking wine then—as small as that action can seem—is both grounding and transformative. It reminds us of other things that matter, too: love, friendship, generosity.

Twenty-three years later, I still believe that. I will always believe that.

Recently at one of our office tastings (125 Chianti Classicos—split into 10 separate tastings on separate days), Jennifer on our team and the lead manager of our digital newsletter WineSpeed said, “I love wines that confuse me.” She said it seriously; thoughtfully.

Momentarily I was stopped in my tracks. Jenn has a brilliant palate. I’d never heard anyone say that sentence before, but she was so right. Wines that make us think—even for a brief instant—are treasures. They can be—you’ll ultimately decide—good or bad, but the flicker of momentary not-knowingness is the ultimate point. It’s why we love wine emotionally. So, I hope that among all The Places I’ll Go this year is the uncharted territory of wines that confuse me.

As for WineSpeed, our digital newsletter (btw I hate that word newsletter), we have a stellar year planned. We chose our Wine of the Year last week—the stunning RAEN “Royal St. Robert” Pinot Noir 2021 from Carlo (pictured with me above) and Dante Mondavi (sons of Tim Mondavi and grandsons of Robert Mondavi). Of the 2000 wines we tasted last year, we loved it not only because it was sensual and beautiful, but because these two Mondavi brothers are among the leading lights in climate action and regenerative farming.

Coming up in 2024: lots of new sections, including Indulgences—expensive wines we think are really worth springing for because...because…because this, the wine world, is the world we love, and the most stunning wines are wines we need to have, maybe just once. For those of you who don’t subscribe to WineSpeed, don’t worry. I will try to incorporate some of those thoughts and content here.

If you are connected with me on Social Media (@karenmacneilco) and Linked In, you know that my video on Dry January hit a nerve.  Lots of people said—and I agree—that we are all in charge of our individual bodies. Individual choice is paramount. But I remain sad and perplexed that the wine industry fails to tell its own story—the story of how healthful, communal, and good wine is in moderation. And how good it has been for thousands of years. As I said in the video (only slightly tongue-in-cheek), Dry January might find me drinking Extra Dry Champagne. 

So back to the top: where are you going—where am I going—in 2024? 

I hope that whatever each of us decides, it will be a decision of action. Waiting for things to happen—waiting for life to happen—doesn’t work. Take it from Dr. Seuss in Oh the Places You’ll Go:

The Waiting Place…for people just waiting.

Waiting for a train to go

or a bus to come or a place to go

or the mail to come, or the rain to go

or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow

or waiting around for a Yes or a No

or waiting for their hair to grow.

Everyone is just waiting.

Waiting for the fish to bite

or waiting for wind to fly a kite

or waiting around for Friday night

or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake

or a pot to boil, or a Better Break

or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants

or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.

Everyone is just WAITING.

My warmest wishes for you in 2024 (let’s stop waiting), Karen