How to fall off the wagon, gently.
Dry January is over! Here's the perfect way to re-establish social well-being with a light, cheerful level of inebriation.
Wine cheers the sad, revives the old, inspires the young, makes weariness forget his toil. ~ Lord Byron
Old news, modern relevance
“Behold the rain which descends from heaven upon our vineyards. There it enters the roots of the vines, to be changed into wine; a constant proof that God loves us, and loves to see us happy.” So quipped Benjamin Franklin, who as we all know, was widely celebrated for his intellectual wit, scientific curiosity, and sharp political acumen.
Although Franklin was by no means a teetotaler, he deplored drunkenness as “a very unfortunate Vice.” He was committed to the virtue of moderation, going so far as to publish a Drinkers Dictionary—amusing expressions about the dangers of drinking to excess—in The Pennsylvania Gazette in 1737.
Ben’s point was obvious. Wine is better than liquor. Less wine is better than more. Which can be extrapolated to mean lower alcohol is best. And imbibing in moderation is best of all. Okay, I can buy into that …in moderation.
Of course, as astutely summarized by a Googlebot (move over Ben!), “Alcohol is critical to the flavor, body, and overall structure of traditional wine, acting as a key component in its balance, texture, and ability to carry aromas. It provides a subtle sweetness, viscosity, and a warming sensation that defines the wine’s mouthfeel. However, it is the balance of alcohol with acidity and tannins, not the alcohol level alone, that makes a wine taste “good.”’
Which pretty much throws the onus back on the winemaker. How low can you go with ABV (alcohol by volume), and still make good wine? All judgement aside concerning highly-touted rants from arguing factions on the number of drinks per day versus ill effects, resveratrol and other polyphenolic antioxidants positing healthy effects, Mediterranean diets and French Paradoxes (hell, all the paradoxes!)—for me ABV has become an essential question as I strive to discover true balance in wine, for only that begets a genuine sense of well-being, which is what this whole thing is all about.
So, how do we find real well-being?”
“In vino veritas,” extolls Pliny the Elder. But still, I can’t really solve that question personally for anyone. To each his/her own. But the search for well-being is not really about the proverbial journey, rather it is the destination that counts. And I have the perfect, most delicious, happiness inducing, possibly even slightly titillating destination. Go to tinyvineyards.com and scroll down to find the 2025 Daniel’s Pride Albariño. There you may find Nirvana, grasshopper.
I first encountered Albariño a couple of years ago over a bowl of "chowdah" at the Little Whale Oyster Bar in Boston’s Back Bay. Only the bottle said Alvarinho, which is what it’s called in Portugal, only delineated by a thin border line on the map from the exact same area of land fronting the Atlantic Ocean in the northwestern part of Spain—same grape, same terroir, same wine. This was only a year after I had an epiphany over Vermentino in Italy, and had declared the “perfect white wine” designation.
Albariño certainly earns that designation, and to me is like Vermentino’s wild younger sibling. Sometimes described as sunshine in a glass, this is a white wine with a racy palate that is often slightly unhinged, yet oh so sophisticated. But it’s only just now begun sneaking out of the house after curfew with help from an ever-increasing cadre of West Coast viticulturists—bless their adventurous souls!—growing Albariño in local soils of sand and loam and decomposing granite (we found our grapes in the Sierra Foothills) which create a perfect American proxy for the coveted terroir of the Iberian Peninsula.
Our Albariño is very light and dry, extremely refreshing at only 11.5% alcohol, and delicately defined by flavors of peach and apricot, notes of melon, lime, and grapefruit, hints of maritime-influenced minerality, and zippy acidity. It’s truly the ideal antidote for ennui and lassitude—that forlorn sense of not-being—which an entire month without wine can bring about, and a glass of Albariño can vanquish!
And for those of you who still claim to not like white wine—buck up boys, once you’ve had white you’ll discover the might!—we’ve just released a 13% ABV Rosé of Pinot Noir, and a 13.5% ABV Sangiovese, both low enough in alcohol to cushion that fall off the wagon while keeping you in good stead with Mr. Franklin.