During our tour of vineyards in Santorini, we heard a lot about context. Second to tourism, agriculture is the most active industry on the island – producing rare whites and sweet desert varieties.
Wines are known to us by their taste, viscosity, color and smell – all shaped by their particular surroundings. It’s all about where the grapes are derived and how they’re handled. Many of us refer to it, at least partially, as “terroir”.
Soil, sun, air, temperature, moisture – each contains a range of possibility, a diversity of impacts that (with the ultimate manipulation of the wine maker) results in a product that is experienced by each of us in a very personal way.
Considering viticulture and the ontology of wine, I was reminded of my own upbringing in Brooklyn, my family, the development of my personality and how I experience others in the world.
It all matters. Where you live. Where you were born. How you were touched and fed. Even who your ancestors are.
Vines in Santorini date back 200 years. And survive with the smallest amount of water.
Then there’s the question of barrels – wine skins, oak, French oak, whisky barrels, cement, stainless steel, glass. They all create varying levels of minerality, notes and flavors; each enhancing or depleting inherent qualities that exist beneath the skin – character waiting to be savored or discarded.
One of the wineries we visited had a large sign reminding us to take our time, to sip and experience what makes each wine unique. To consider the wine’s complexity, its context, and honor the many people who toiled in its creation.
It was a good reminder. If only we could do that with each other.