Tuesday, October 27, 2020

Art Heals: Wining

You might have noticed my frequent references to adult beverages in these missives. While I have been known to indulge in the occasional fruity concoction on a terrace in Miami, appropriately clad in floral dress, strappy sandals and large sun hat, my usual tipple is a glass of wine. Being a simple soul (see earlier blog, Plain Vanilla) I like limiting my choices: red, for colder weather, drinking to accompany beouf bourguignon, drinking with cheese and French bread, or just drinking. Then there is white, which I drink mainly to pair with fish or chicken (except for coq au vin, which, as the original recipe comes from Burgundy (I think) needs to be paired with a similar red). Sometimes I’ll have a glass of Pinot Gris on a hot day, but hot days usually lead me to rosé. And for toasting, I prefer Prosecco over champagne, but I never judge people on their bubbly behaviors. One other caveat: white wine is de rigueur at art gallery openings. Never red. Because people gesticulate in their enthusiasm for great art, resulting in sad consequences for the watercolors. I must note that when I held an exhibition in a Paris gallery a few years ago, the owner of the gallery served red, and when I objected, said, “This is Paris, of course we drink red wine.” I must also note that in that crowded space those little plastic cups did indeed go flying, luckily hitting only the gouaches covered with glass and a swath of white wall. (I don’t know a direct French idiom for “I told you so” Je ne voudrais pas être désagréable, mais… Far more likely to hear ce n’est pas ma faute.) But I digress. Now that cafes and bars and dining with friends seem to be off limits for the duration, most of us are consuming our adult beverages at home. Though I occasionally share a verre de rouge with my companion in isolation at a socially distanced outdoor table, most of my quaffing occurs on my balcony or on the couch after 5 pm. And while I have been able, so far, to stick to my usual glass-or-half-of-the-other, a recent study from the Rand Corp. indicates that more people, especially women, are reacting to pandemic stress by coping with a coupe. Which brings me to Florence, Italy in the 16th century, and the buchettes del vino. These “wine holes” were originally hatches with little wooden doors, often little wider than a man’s hand, carved into the walls of hundreds of buildings throughout Tuscan cities, mainly in Florence. Originally used to sell wine directly to the consumer (eliminating the middleman, and I speculate here, probably some taxes) they later became the perfect solution to safely sell wine during the plague of the 1630s in Italy. They were often located at a low height from the ground, ensuring some anonymity for the purchaser. Contactless delivery, no tipping. (But plenty of tippling. Ouch.) So, fast forward to 2020, and the clever Florentines are reopening these charming little doorways to serve wine, coffee and even gelato while their bars and cafes are still closed. Similar, if not quite so charming, adaptations are being made here. To help with the bottom line, restaurants have been granted special licenses to sell packaged single-serving drinks and bottles of wine from their doorways (though, unlike in Italy, you cannot consume alcoholic drinks while standing on the sidewalk.) People are picnicking under trees and on grassy knolls in every available open space, imbibing special lemonades. So, I raise a glass to all of you who drink responsibly, letting the glories of the grape enhance your life, giving you a few antioxidants, offering a coda to a difficult day in these difficult times. And remember, this always applies: “Drink to me only with thine eyes, and I’ll not ask for wine.” For this, you don’t even have to take off your mask.

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