How To Destroy The Patriarchy With a Glass of Wine
A lesson in garrigue, then I implore you to free yourself by freeing your palate.
Affordable Pick o’ The Month
This month’s value pick is a red wine that will ease you into the cooler months just fine. It’s a Minervois-La Livinière, a Syrah-dominant red blend from Southern France. Minervois is a region in the Languedoc, and if you ask any lover of French wine, they’ll assure you that the Languedoc is one of France’s most under-estimated regions.
That means lots of affordable, high-quality wines for you to seek out.
Minervois-La Livinière is a subregion of Minervois that was awarded “cru” status in 1999. Again—no one knows this!
I was sent three bottles from the Lorgeril family, one of the oldest winemaking families in France. Their OG Domaine dates back to 1620—keep an eye out for my IG if you want to hear about their other two bottles.
But this one was my favorite, most likely because it fits the bill of my favorite Côtes du Rhone: it’s 55% Syrah. The rest is Grenache, Mourvedre, and Carignan. They make great back-up singers, don’t they?
Fresh fruit, black pepper, and a bonafide lesson in garrigue, the word that describes the shrubbery of the land that mysteriously makes its way into higher quality wines of Southern France.
Garrigue might show up in your glass as thyme, lavender, rosemary, sage, or general underbrush. This wine is singing rosemary and underbrush. If you love a savory wine, look for Minervois.
Here are my official notes.
Nose: strawberry, black pepper, mint, rosemary, chalk, soy sauce
Palate: strawberry, black pepper, rosemary, underbrush, mint
Details: dry, full-bodied, high acidity, medium tannins
Who should drink it: Côtes du Rhone drinkers and lovers of peppery wine
Pair it with: chili, bratwurst, spaghetti night, rosemary potatoes, Judy Garland, that sweater weather meme.
Song Pairing: The Man That Got Away by Judy Garland
Wine Corrections
Exploring myths, misconceptions, and debatable truths about wine.
For my winter crusade this year, I have decided to emphasize why I drink white wine year ‘round. Actually, let’s start with: why I drink white wine.
I work in hospitality—in wine—and I’ve noticed a trend. There’s an unspoken understanding about both white wine and rosé. The unspoken understanding is that it’s kind of a basic, wimpy choice. In other words, it’s a lady’s drink.
Fellas, let me tell you something. There is no wimpy wine. Trust me. A wine bar is a place you’ll often see a man suddenly caught off guard by how much he’s had to drink, and it’s a race to the bathroom.
You can save yourself this pain by first realizing that wine isn’t for the faint of heart. It’s a strongly alcoholic drink and it’ll sneak up on you real bad if you’re not careful.
Therefore, it’s a really pleasant experience to opt for lighter, finessed wines. Perhaps not all the time, but certainly part of the time.
I think it might be an America problem. Some men come into the wine bar with their wives and proceed to satisfy their unspoken obligation as the man in the couple by ordering the most masculine thing on the menu: a strong, alcoholic-as-the-day-is-long, larger-than-life California red.
It’s big. It’s bold. It means business. It ties its own tie. It’s a warm climate zinger!
But here’s the thing. These wines can be hot; they can really weigh you down, especially in the summer.
It’s the pressure of what it means to be masculine in America—also known as toxic masculinity—that’s guiding your choice in wine. Or is it? Don’t take my word, see for yourself. Order a glass of rosé by yourself in public and check in with how you feel about sitting there with that glass of pink wine. Are you uncomfortable? Are you worried about what others might think? If so, fear not. Your awareness has just given you the opportunity to choose another way.
And if you find yourself a little (or a lot) disturbed that the pressure to prove your masculinity to nobody in particular is seeping into your leisurely time, you’re not alone. If the patriarchy, in all its homophobic, sexist glory is controlling how you feel about something as trivial as wine, what other kinds of clownish moves does it have you running around town doing?
Perhaps a glass of public rosé is the insight you need to recognize the larger systemic, oppressive forces at play that you and me, my friend—and I hate to break this to you—have undoubtedly internalized.
So have a glass of white wine, or rosé. By yourself, in a public place. Allow it to be a lens that you peer through at world around you.
And let me know how it goes. :)
Yours in confusion,
Kara Daly