One afternoon in 1975 I strolled into a record store across Hearst Ave. from the UC Berkeley campus, and inside hanging out were Patti Smith and her band promoting their first LP, Horses. I put my money on the counter and never regretted it. Here is a 1975 that aged well, and includes one of my favorite rock ’n’ roll cuts, “Free Money.” She signed my album cover and wrote, “We waltz in a new dimension.” Over the years my mind turned it into “We dance in a different dimension.” Perhaps the cool alliteration appealed to me. Then, recently, the thought burst untethered into my wine-flavored mind, “We drink in a different dimension.”
     And we do. We drink fine wines, one of Mother Earth’s tastiest creations. We know that wine CAN be an esthetic creation that speaks to our senses—our eyes, nose, palate, and beyond—and we judge our wines in fine detail, like a work of art. So let’s separate wine out from the governmental classification, alcoholic beverage. Fine wine is such a complex liquid, to single out its alcohol, an entirely natural product of fermentation, is at the least missing the point.
     And consider, real people out there vinify our selections, our bottles of wine, not corporate entities with formulas and additives.
     There is no denying it. Neo-prohibitionism has raised its ugly head. Imagine, enjoying wine with your meals could be illegal, which should cause Christians pause. Christ’s first miracle, remember? He was feasting with his mom and some disciples at what sounds like a neighborhood bash when, uh oh, they ran out of wine. Mary did not dig that at all, so she handed over the dilemma to her son, who quickly turned several jars of water (thirty gallons each, folks) into wine. Christ was no killjoy. If a Christian today believes wine is unhealthy because of its alcohol, Jesus would be guilty of endangering not only his mother and disciples, but everyone else there, too. From here, calling wine dangerous sounds blasphemous, because wouldn’t Jesus have known if wine was truly dangerous? All-knowing, right? And by the way, his miracle cuvée was judged (by those present) superior to the first selection served. In other words, He had good taste!
     In the Old Testament, wine is mentioned more than olives, wheat, or megabytes. It was even appreciated for its inebriating qualities. Drunkenness was a transgression, while inebriation meant feeling exhilarated or quite happy. Positives, right? We drink for the pleasures of it, and we urge drinking responsibly.

You’ve got a friend in CORNAS Pennsylvania,” read the vanity PA license plate hanging in the winery at Domaine Clape. Likely an old gift from an admiring client, the plate caught my eye as soon as I passed through the doors for the first time. Though unexpected, something about that Pennsylvania ornament felt right at home there. The working-class vibe of the area, the rusting factories along the Rhône, the salt-of-the-earth feel from the modest Clape family—all reminded me of the hardworking and hardscrabble Allentown, PA, area that was my home in the 1980s. Pierre-Marie Clape, with his dark beard, deep-set eyes, thick hands, weathered voice, and worn jeans, all spoke to his commitment and dedication to a craft. His gentle, welcoming smile and reserved humility affirmed the depth of his humanity and the goodness of his being. His father, Auguste, worked hard in the 1950s to unite growers to move from subsistence farming and selling off their wines in bulk to bottling and selling their own production. Pierre-Marie, upon joining Auguste in 1988, carried on the tradition of mutual assistance by presiding over the appellation of Cornas for fourteen years, pushing the renown of the village by uniting the growers behind a common goal of making the best the terroir has to offer, unconditionally. Pierre-Marie reveled in the years when his son Olivier joined the estate in the early 2000s, making for three generations of Clapes all working and living side by side, carrying Cornas ever onward and upward. Auguste passed away at ninety-three years old in 2018, and, much to everyone’s shock, Pierre-Marie joined him, much too soon, just last year. He is dearly missed by his fellow growers, who are quick to point out how much he did for the collective good, and by clients near and far. His work carries on with Olivier, cut from the same cloth, and Domaine Clape will continue to be the standard-bearer for the wonderful, heady, mysterious, dark, and noble wine that is Cornas for many years to come.

A year ago, we hosted a tasting tour around the United States for the new generation of growers taking over their parents’ domaines. The roster included pioneering names in the wine world like Domaine Lapierre, Catherine & Pierre Breton, and Robert-Denogent, among others. Arthur Ostertag was here showcasing the stunning wines he’s been crafting since succeeding his father, André, in 2018. It was a historic occasion for KLWM, and Arthur, the only Alsatian of the bunch, brought a certain rigor and focus to the group dynamic, even if, by the end, the relentlessly playful spirit of the young Beaujolois and fun-loving Burgundians had rubbed off on him. Arthur’s wines were the revelation of the trip. For months after, in the group chat with everyone on the tour, my screen would light up with shots of his wines—those incomparably elegant bottles with the stunning labels—standing tall atop the tables of every restaurant the other growers were dining in, in their hometowns or around the world. Arthur was officially the breakout star of the trip.
     When trying to get to know a vigneron better, it’s common to ask the question: When you’re not enjoying the wines you make, whose do you love to drink? The answer to this question reveals a lot about a grower; it tells us about their taste, their style, and speaks to the wines they produce in light of ones they admire. For Arthur to capture the admiration of the most reputable winegrowers in this cohort speaks loudly and clearly of the caliber of his wines, and, I imagine, is the highest honor.

France’s largest and most prolific wine-growing region, the Languedoc-Roussillon is far too often lumped into a single category—as if “Languedoc blends,” amounting to roughly one quarter of France’s total output, could be boiled down to a single style. The reds alone, which primarily feature Grenache, Carignan, Syrah, Mourvèdre, and Cinsault across dozens of appellations, highlight so many distinct terroirs that it’s about time we delve deeper into this chronically overlooked part of France.
     To clarify, the Languedoc, which forms a crescent along the Mediterranean roughly from Montpellier to Perpignan, and the Roussillon, the Catalan province sitting just north of the Spanish border where the Pyrenees meet the sea, are two separate regions. Together, they are home to an abundance of everyday bargains, as well as distinguished terroir-driven wines from world-class vignerons.
     Stereotyping these “Languedoc blends” would be failing to recognize the chalky vineyards of Saint-Chinian, captured so purely and vividly in the Cebenna bottling from Les Eminades. It would be forgetting the rich Catalan heritage thriving on the steep terrasses of Collioure, expressed generously in La Tour Vieille’s spicy Pinède. It would be discounting the influence of pioneers like Didier Barral in Faugères and Maxime Magnon in the Corbières, who have inspired countless others with their visionary approach to farming and winemaking. As you’ll see, these outstanding domaines beautifully capture the immense character and endless diversity of the Languedoc-Roussillon’s sun-soaked, windswept vineyard patchwork