Efforts continue to change the way we talk about wine to make it more inclusive and accessible to people whose ethnic and cultural origins lie outside the Judeo-Christian Western culture that has for centuries defined how we look at the subject.
The criticism, which emerged amid the recent racial justice movement, argues that wine’s rituals, standards and language are inextricably intertwined with the history of European colonialism. It reflects our national focus in recent years on correcting structural barriers to diversity and inclusion in various societal sectors much more consequential than wine.
It’s a discussion worth having. Our society is increasingly multicultural, blending people with backgrounds from Asia, Africa and South America as well as Europe. As our collective identity changes, shouldn’t our language also evolve?
Advertisement
The Roots Fund, founded in 2020 to promote diversity and equity of opportunity in the wine industry, recently published a new wine tasting guide for people of color. Titled “Rooted Together,” the booklet aims to create “a comfortable space” for its audience to learn about wine without the strictures of stuffy European convention.
“There’s definitely a cultural barrier,” says Ikimi Dubose-Woodson, a co-founder and CEO of the Roots Fund. “Wine has been stuck in one lane of how to learn it, classified by European terminology.” She told me in an interview that when the Roots Fund began its outreach to HBCUs (historically Black colleges and universities), it encountered people who were put off by the rituals and insider knowledge necessary to appreciate a proper glass of vino. Wine was part of a fancy image of fine dining, with filet mignon wrapped in bacon. “Where’s your wine with jerk chicken?” she asked.
Dubose-Woodson cited other references as barriers to cross-cultural understanding. “People don’t know why you swirl your glass. They don’t know what tannins are. And gooseberry? I’ve worked in Michelin-starred kitchens for years and I’ve seen a gooseberry once, and it wasn’t in the United States.”
Advertisement
“Gooseberry” entered the wine lexicon years ago when a clever Kiwi described New Zealand sauvignon blanc as tasting like “cat’s pee on a gooseberry bush.” It was funny and helped fuel the popularity of New Zealand sauvignon blanc. American wine lovers may not know gooseberries, but we do know litter boxes. And we learned that sauvignon blanc (at least from New Zealand) tastes like gooseberry, so when we taste a sauvignon blanc, gooseberry comes to mind.
Share this articleShareThere’s an “Emperor’s New Clothes” aspect to that, as there is to much of wine appreciation, and it reinforces Dubose-Woodson’s point about the insider nature of wine. But as an old White guy, I object. When I fell in love with wine, I didn’t know why I should swirl my glass or what a tannin was, either. I probably had never heard of gooseberries. I needed to learn these as part of my exploration of wine just like everyone else.
The European hierarchy of wine is reinforced in a store, where bottles are arranged by country or region (emphasizing the insider concept of terroir) or by grape variety. Customers are assumed to know the difference between France and California, or Argentina and Chile, or cabernet and pinot noir.
Advertisement
TJ and Hadley Douglas wanted to buck that convention when they opened the Urban Grape in Boston in 2010. They opened a second store in D.C.’s Shaw neighborhood in January, using a “progressive drinking” theme that arranges wines from lighter to bolder on a scale of 1 (light) progressing to 10 (big). TJ Douglas likes to compare wine’s texture and body to skim milk (1 on the scale), whole milk (5) and heavy cream (10). He credits the analogy to Kevin Zraly, whose “Windows on the World: Complete Wine Course” educated several generations of wine enthusiasts.
Since this approach liberates them from the traditional hierarchy, the Douglases are free to feature wines from diverse regions. A South African pinotage may be featured next to a Sonoma pinot noir of similar weight and body, rather than stuck in the outcast corner with the Australian wines. That flexibility also helps them feature BIPOC and LGBTQ producers, especially at the D.C. store, where local regulations allow them to bypass the traditional three-tier distribution system and to ship to states that allow it.
“It’s been a successful way to introduce new wine drinkers to wine because they don’t have to understand or memorize — or even pronounce — varietals they’ve never heard of or regions they’ve never been to,” TJ told me in an interview before the D.C. store opened. “And that’s what made us the number-one Black-owned wine retailer in the country.”
Advertisement
As I spoke to Dubose-Woodson and the Douglases, I felt they were describing great ways to introduce wine to beginners of any background. Both efforts seemed aimed at piercing wine’s “Emperor’s New Clothes” nature of connoisseurship and exclusive expertise as much as racial or cultural barriers. “Rooted Together” is a fine introductory primer for anyone. Its novelty isn’t terminology but imagery. Photos of Black and Asian drinkers enjoying wine grace its pages, sending a message of inclusivity. The Urban Grape’s store window, advertising BIPOC and LGBTQ producers, sends a similar message to a growing and important market segment that has money to spend but has often felt excluded.
Maybe we don’t need to change the language so much as the voices. More on those efforts in my next column.
ncG1vNJzZmivp6x7uK3SoaCnn6Sku7G70q1lnKedZLOwu8NoaWlqZGR9c3uPamawoZ6aeqW11Z6prKGkrnqmssWoqa2rXaq%2Fo63NZp6rmaCaeqWvjg%3D%3D