Dariusz Galasiński: A defence of wine should rest on the pleasure it provides

By , 25 March 2025

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Wine is under pressure, making it more important than ever to tell a compelling, positive story about it. But what makes wine special? What does it truly offer? To explore how we might shape this narrative, I decided to examine a simple question: Why do I drink wine?

I want to start, however, with why I do not drink wine. In contrast to what I often read, I do not discover cultures, places and their history through wine. To be honest, I have no idea what it might even mean. A Rioja does not take me to Rioja at all. I do not have conversations with wine; it is not an intellectual thing for me, either. It does not unite me with anyone, and no, it is not just ‘relevant’. I do not drink wine because of its 8000 years’ history; it does not touch my heart or give me overwhelming emotional experiences. It does not even help me socialise, as I normally drink wine with my nigh teetotal wife. We would be ‘socialising’ with or without it. Perfect wine-food pairings are so rare, I hardly give them a second thought.

So, why do I drink wine? I drink wine because it is delicious. Wine gives me an experience that no other alcoholic or non-alcoholic drink can. In contrast to wine, beer, distillates, cocktails, liqueurs, let alone sodas, are simply boring for me. Every time I open a bottle of decent wine, I marvel at how it changes in glass. So many times have I disliked a wine immediately after opening, only to be smitten by it two or three hours later. Every time, this process of discovering new flavours, new aromas, sometimes even identifying them, just for the heck of it, is simply wondrous. And there is so much diversity!

It is this experience of tasting fermented grape juice which is the very foundation of my relationship with wine. Ever since the first time I tasted wine – it was a Chablis – I have loved it. Not every wine, mind you, but every time I open a bottle of wine, it potentially is to repeat this wonder. An experience of a beverage that gives me sheer hedonistic pleasure, a liquid so complex that it takes my breath away.

Years of such experiences made me want to explore fermented grape juice some more and so, I started reading about wine. A bit later, I started discovering wine’s history, and its place in societies and cultures, the meanings it is endowed with. Still later, as a social scientist, I decided to find out what others make of wine and I started doing research.

Yet, the starting point in this journey has been and continues to be the wondrous experience of drinking a glass of wine. The sheer delight of smelling and tasting it. And no amount history, no amount of culture, no number of claims of stirrings of the heart or the pomposity of conversing with wine bottles would make me drink the stuff. Indeed, there are still styles of wine I do not touch – I simply dislike them. And I find it offensive when I hear that I do not understand them or I shall grow into them. Such admonitions defeat the very essence of wine drinking – the delight it brings.

Wine is under pressure. Neo-prohibitionist movements together with gun-jumping health organisations making strong claims on flimsy evidence will need wine-as-us to respond and offer wine as something worth tasting. It behoves us all to come up with a positive message of wine. But in my view, it will not be arguments about wine being relevant because it is relevant, being with humans for millennia, or being conducive to socialising. No novice will take to wine because an 8000-years-old qvevri has been found in Georgia. I would not, either.

In my view, the defence of wine must start with hedonism. Wine offers pleasure, wine offers delight, especially when drunk in moderation. Miss the wine and miss experiences that no other drink can offer. And if you like it, you can also explore it. In fact, you can never stop exploring wine, its history, meaning and other stuff. But it is utterly unrequired, you are absolutely fine just focusing on the blissful pleasure wine can offer.

  • Dariusz Galasiński is a linguist and professor at the University of Wroclaw in Poland. He has been writing on experiences of mental illness and suicide. He also drinks wine and does research into how it is spoken about both by amateurs and professionals.

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    Tim James | 1 April 2025

    Hey Dariusz – I note that you say early on that “So many times have I disliked a wine immediately after opening, only to be smitten by it two or three hours later.” Don’t you think that same change (which might even partly be in yourself) might happen over a much longer period, and come with deeper acquaintance? So that when you say “there are still styles of wine I do not touch – I simply dislike them”, perhaps you might even learn to like them, and widen the field of delight. I’ve seen that happen with sherry, for example, that it takes someone half a dozen tentative tries and then it suddenly clicks, and they have learned to love the stuff. Same with older wines, perhaps, that have lost their youthful charm, but have gained something more – learning that can take time, I think you’d agree.

    Also, I think that “delight” is not always a simple easy category. There are some wines that are fascinating to explore, even if you don’t want to drink a whole lot of it. I think some sherries, again, can be like that – deeply rewarding experiences, but not obviously hedonistic. And some oxidative styles, like traditional white Rioja – not great fun, but marvellous once you get beyond obvious pleasure.

    Of course one can even learn to dislike styles. I remember in the 1990s discovering Marlborough sauvignon blanc and loving it – now I would have trouble getting beyond the first sweaty sniff.

    But yes, the point is pleasure, and we don’t all need to like the same things. It is useful though, again I’m sure you’d agree, to learn through experience what we like most, as well as finding new aspects which we can appreciate deeply.

      Dariusz Galasinski | 2 April 2025

      We agree, I am almost sorry to say 🙂

      For most of my wine life, I had drunk white wine. I could not have enough of sauvignon blanc or chardonnay (incidentally, I was quite partial to South African wines!). And then it changed, I started loving pinot noir. Now, I prefer heavier wines and quite often go for Italian wines (that’s a real new for me!). However, the key is that all those changes happened organically, to be honest, I don’t even know how or why they happened. They just did and I am delighted they did.

      What I reject, however, is the all-too-common narrative that one must persist in tasting. One of the styles I don’t like is dry sherry (I love the sweet thick PX though). I love the aromas, I could smell sherry all day, but the moment I put it into my mouth, I just dislike it. But no, I shall not be persisting in buying and tasting dry sherry because I somehow ‘should’. I am very happy for others to love it, I wish every sherry producer all the very best but I am happy not to like it.

      Now more seriously. I strongly believe that telling people that they must like something, that only liking something (like sherry) will make them true wine lovers or connoisseurs is highly counterproductive and divisive. There isn’t and there must never be a wine ‘canon’ where the ‘winerati’ tell us, wine wallies, what we must drink and like.

      Yes, we need different things in and from drinking. But I also reject that pleasure is somehow inferior (I am taking your argument further than you made it) to exploring the wine, making it talk to you, or analysing it. Drinking wine for sheer pleasure of experiencing a wonderful drink is more than enough. And your ability to recognise the variety, region, vintage doesn’t make my inability and/or unwillingness to do it somehow substandard, inferior and me unworthy.

      To sum up. Yes to change but only if it comes and/or is welcome. If you want to train yourself in blind tasting because that’s what excites you, who am I to tell you not to do it? But I am very happy to continue to be a wine oik, not understanding, not having insight. I love wine dearly but I need neither approval nor authorisation of what I drink or like.

      To repeat: I know that I have run with your argument and that you didn’t even suggest things I reject. But I thought it would be nice to make such an argument.

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