Ómós Digest #95: Winemakers and mortals.
By Cathryn Bell.
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Winemakers and mortals.
Coronation madness recently swept through the UK (albeit with slightly less ferocity here in Wales). I watched the ceremony with my sister at her mother-in-law’s, the two of them staunch royalists, complete with teacups and tea towels. I went along for the cake and sandwiches and the hope of Pimms – got the sandwiches alright, but alas, no Pimms. I can’t say that I am a royalist per se, but I do turn up if one of them gives birth, gets married or dies and I think it’s no harm to have a Sovereign who has been so vocal on their environmental and sustainability stances (yes, I do realise the irony behind that, but any medium that can start a conversation about sustainability is a good one in my book).
The thing that fascinated me most about the whole show was the reverence for royalty, royal people, royal blood, royal pee for that matter – my sister once lived in a tiny National Trust property in Cwmdu, where local legend has it that the then Prince Charles had to use the downstairs bathroom when the local pub facilities where found lacking. Of course, we’ll never know for sure, but there’s a fifty-fifty chance that King Charles III and my sister have sat on the same toilet seat – so there ya go!
I suppose the fascination with royalty is no different from the fascination with celebrity, and there doesn’t seem to be an element of life that seems to escape it. From religion to sport, music, the arts and even chefs (don’t we know it), I’d even go as far as to say winemakers, but in fairness, that doesn’t quite ring true. There are plenty of winemakers who, at this stage, are so revered that they do indeed hold a celebrity status, they are known, they are admired and to drink their wines holds the kudos of the not-so-humble name drop or bottle shot. For the most-part though, I have yet to meet many winemakers who get drunk on their own juice as it were, in fact, it’s been quite the opposite experience – they’ve been pretty nonplussed by the fawning and in some cases, quite obviously repulsed by the whole furore.
Quite a lot of winemakers, especially of the ilk I care about, making conscientious wines of sustainable provenance, turn up themselves to present their wines at wine fairs, which means sometimes attending these wine fairs can be a bit like going to breakfast at Disneyland, where all your favourite characters are weaving in and out between the tables.
It’s like what I imagine walking into the back bar at the Oscars would be like – can’t move for recognisable faces and living legends, people you’ve waxed lyrical about for years and have either drunk or chased after their wines, and there they are, pouring their wine themselves into your glass. What does one do in these situations?