I’ve railed and ranted before at every attack on wine that’s hidden behind the excuse of “preventing alcoholism.” (See some of my stuff about the Marin Institute.) I usually think there’s a hidden agenda coming from a neo-prohibitionist lobby that wouldn’t mind outlawing alcohol all over again — a disaster last time we tried it, and it would be just as disastrous if we did it again, for the same reasons why the “war on drugs” has been a disaster.

But I digress. Yesterday, I came across this blog, written by a psychologist, Sarah Allen Benton, and entited The Great Wine Myth. After my first read-through, I thought, “There they go again, the anti-wine fanatics. Why do they get so upset that some of us like wine?” But then I read it a second time, and a third.

I’ll give Ms. Benton this: she’s got a point, although she’s also wide of the mark in some respects. I’ll get to her point in a minute, but first: Where I disagree with her is when she says there’s a problem with people who feel they’re being compelled to drink wine against their will, even though they don’t want to. For example, she writes, “I am hearing from those struggling with alcohol problems, that their friends are encouraging them to drink wine with them at their homes or at restaurants-ignoring the fact that their individual has a drinking problem. During dinner parties, glasses are filled and re-filled without guests even noticing or being able to keep track.”

Well, a couple things. First of all, I don’t see why these dinner party guests who don’t want to drink can’t just tell their host, “No thank you, I’d much prefer a nice cold glass of water,” or something like that. Nobody’s twisting anybody’s arm to drink at a party or in a restaurant. And not keeping track? If you know you can’t handle more than a glass, then you need help if you’re downing five. Of course, if the person who’s constantly refilling their guest’s glass knows that the guest has a drinking problem, then that person is a total idiot — and the guest might want to rethink the friendship. Friends don’t make friends who are alcoholics drink.

I also don’t quite get it when Benton writes about patients who complain that “every social function that they attend revolves around drinking, particularly wine and that they feel like they won’t fit in if they are not drinking.” Again, what ever happened to self-control? Isn’t it possible for these people to politely decline wine? I don’t know anybody who would resent or feel weird about a friend who didn’t feel like drinking alcohol at a social function. I have alcoholics in my family (more than one), and when we get together, the rest of us drink all we want to, the alcoholics don’t, and nobody blames anyone for anything. The lines are clearly drawn, and if there’s mutual respect and understanding, there’s no problem.

But Benton makes some good points. Her title, “The Great Wine Myth,” alludes to the fact that there probably is a tendency among some people to think that wine is somehow different from beer or hard liquor — that it’s cleaner, or healthier, or more refined than, say, a shot of cheap Scotch or malt liquor. Wine may be more refined in a cultural sense, but Benton’s point is that alcohol is alcohol, regardless of if “you are sipping on Chardonnay or chugging a 40-ounce beer in a paper bag.” That’s true. I myself drink more than most people would consider healthy. So do lots of people I know in the wine industry. I’m aware of the deleterious effects of alcohol, including calories. That’s why I hit the gym regularly, eat right and take good care of my body. And I would never, ever insist that a guest in my home drink wine, unless they were eager to do so.

So, bottom line: You wrote a generally fair essay, Ms. Benton. You made some good points. People should be incredibly sensitive to their guests’ needs and limitations. It’s called politeness, and it’s a human value as old as time.

I’ll have more to say about World of Pinot Noir this week, but now it’s off on this cool, partly cloudy morning to the south, and a few days in Santa Barbara County.

(I will also have more to say soon about the movie I’m in, Blood Into Wine, and the way they portrayed — or didn’t portray — my blind tasting. Stay tuned.)

I was reading the L.A. Times this morning over breakfast (oatmeal for health, bacon in hommage to Homer Simpson, and also because there’s been a lot of talk about bacon at this Pinot Noir event) when I came across yet another article on that big fight in New York State over whether to permit grocery stores to sell wine.

Like you, I’ve been kinda sorta keeping up with that story. I understood the issues. I just wasn’t sure which side I agreed with. One the one hand are small, mom and pop liquor stores, who fear that if grocery stores are allowed to sell wine, it will hurt them and maybe drive them out of business. On the other hand are groceries, who argue, Why shouldn’t we be allowed to sell wine? It would be a great benefit to our customers, particularly those in rural areas, who won’t have to drive 5, 10 or more miles just to buy a bottle of wine.

Both sides have a point, as is often the case with tricky social, cultural and legal issues, which is why they’re hard to decide. For example, Napa’s winery ordinance is tricky because it pits wineries, who want an extra income stream, against some of their neighbors, who don’t want more traffic, etc. But in a democracy, somebody has to win. In the New York case, I’m siding with the grocers. They should be allowed to sell wine, for several reasons.

For one thing, it’s difficult for a state — in this case, New York — to present a coherent reason for intruding into private, commercial enterprise. Granted, alcohol is a regulated product, but it’s not clear that a State, or county or city, has the right to decide who should and shouldn’t be allowed to sell wine. Yes, States have the power to grant liquor licenses, but all things being equal, they shouldn’t be in the position of picking winners and losers. (The one exception I’ll make is that cities should be allowed to limit the number of liquor stores in ghetto neighborhoods.)

For another thing, this notion of letting only liquor stores sell wine is so antiquated, it’s pathetic. A holdover not only of Prohibition but of 19th century attitudes toward Demon Rum, it fails to recognize that wine is now a mainstream, respectable food. Most people who drink wine do so with meals, and in the company of friends and family. Wine is not some narcotic drug whose dissemination must be limited only to certain restricted areas, like prescription medicines sold in a pharmacy. (And even supermarkets, which are just giant grocery stores, contain pharmacies.)

Finally, we have only to look at our state of California to see that letting grocery stores sell wine seems to be doing little harm, if any, to wine stores. At small grocery stores, like 7-Eleven, all they stock are the big distributor brands that most mom and pop wine stores wouldn’t think of selling anyway. At larger supermarkets like Safeway, the selection is bigger, and there may be some overlap between what they sell and what a little wine shop sells, but if there is, it isn’t much. No, what small wine stores sell tends to be either rarer, more expensive wines or inexpensive imports that most grocery stores would never feature. I think of a wine shop like Paul Marcus, in my neighborhood, where you can get wonderful Portuguese, Spanish, French and Italian wines for under $20. You’d never see them in a grocery store.

So I don’t think the New York liquor stores, who are organized under a group called “Last Store on Main Street” (an apocalyptic name meant to frighten) really have a case. I suspect New York State will eventually agree to let grocery stores sell wine, if for no other reason than that it will generate a quarter-billion bucks in new license revenues. If there are some liquor stores who feel threatened by open competition, let them upgrade to quality stuff. Consumers will shop wherever they think they can (a) get the best wine (b) at the best price (c) with the best customer service (d) and with the most convenience. They really don’t care if it’s a grocery store or a liquor store, and neither should New York’s (dysfunctional) government.

Old farts? Or rock stars?

At World of Pinot Noir, I introduced a friend of mine, a good-looking ultramarathoner without an ounce of bodyfat on his lean frame, to Richard Sanford, who is the Dean of Southern California winemakers. Hell, Richard is one of the Deans of all California winemakers. When Richard and I get together the conversation occasionally turns to Olden Times, and so it did there under the tent by the sea, where Richard was pouring Alma Rosa for the WOPN crowd. He was telling my friend about the old Sanford label and the Sanford & Benedict Vineyard when my friend — whom I like a great deal and admire for his creativity, not to mention the fact that he can run for 100 miles — said something about “you old farts.”

He meant it, I’m entirely sure, affectionately and without malice. We all say things that pop into our heads without thinking. I do every day, and I know it was that way with my friend. Still, it hurt, a little. Maybe it tapped into so much of the crap about dinosaur print writers who don’t get it versus cool young Twitterers who are the wave of the future, yadda yadda. At some point in one’s life and career, you have to start wondering if you’re still relevant — and maybe you find yourself trying a bit harder to prove you are.

So here I am now, in a coffee shop in “downtown” Santa Ynez, nursing a non-fat latte, when I pick up a copy of last Nov. 26’s Rolling Stone. Therein is an article on “the historic concerts for the 25th anniversary of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.” The musicians included such old farts as Mick Jagger, Bruce Springstein, Aretha Franklin, Bono, Patti Smith, Crosby, Stills & Nash, Paul Simon, Art Garfunkle, Stevie Wonder, Bonnie Raitt, Lou Reed, Ray Davies, Jackson Browne, Jerry Lee Lewis, Sting — and on and on.

You know, I’ve read and heard younger rockers, like Fergie, Lady Gaga, Jay-Z, Rihanna, Trey Anastasio, Will.I.Am, Shakira, Pink, Sheryl Crow, Foo Fighters, Taylor Swift, even Adam Lambert credit their musical forebears with blazing paths, breaking down barriers, opening entirely new genres and whole new universes of possibilities that enable pop music to forever stay vital, and to be one of America’s enduring contributions to world culture. And if you ask Mick Jagger, Stevie Wonder and their generation, they always and happily pay their propers to the likes of Muddy Waters, B.B. King, Chuck Berry, Roy Orbison, Hank Williams, Elvis, Cole Porter, Louis Armstrong, Billie Holiday, Bing Crosby, Sinatra, Fats Domino — that list also goes on and on.

For the life of me I don’t know wine writers seem more hung up with generational divisions than rock stars. Professor Saintsbury inspired Harry Waugh and Michael Broadbent, who inspired Hugh Johnson, who inspired Oz Clark and Jancis Robinson, who has inspired God knows how many women to believe they can be great wine writers. The writers of the 60s and 70s even inspired Robert Parker, even if it was in the negative sense that he decided to be unlike them, as Elvis decided to be unlike Pat Boone and the Sex Pistols decided to be unlike Journey. Parker, Johnson, Waugh, Bob Thompson, Charlie Olken and, yes, Jim Laube inspired me. I have some reason to think, or at least to hope, that I have inspired younger writers, and I know that Richard Sanford has inspired a generation of younger winemakers. Even now, there are brilliant young vintners working up and down California who keep one eye on the venerable past, with all its lessons and wisdom, as they stride into futures filled with hope and promise.

Old farts, or rock stars? Richard Sanford still has a few tricks up his sleeve. So do I.

One of my regular readers (Randy) commented here yesterday:

Having read for a while thoughts from Charlie, Steve, 1winedude and Tom, how do you guys get RP, JL and the other players to actually engage you guys on these blogs? Do they actually think they’re like, untouchable or are they so embarrassed by their official words that they can’t back them up in a free moving (on record) conversation?

What a great question. I replied, “Here’s my take: RP, JL and a few others have nothing to gain and a lot to lose by engaging with us po’ folk. They do tend to think they’re untouchable. It’s sad, but true. I would welcome their participation on this blog, but I’m not holding my breath.”

I think this topic is worth investigating a little bit more. When U.S. Presidents choose to isolate themselves away from a curious press corps (as sitting Presidents often do during re-election campaigns), they conduct what’s called a “Rose Garden strategy.” That’s when they appear only at carefully choreographed functions during which they take no questions but appear in all their glory surrounded by the majesty of their office. Their supporters claim that the President is “above the fray” but really, everybody understands that what’s really happening is the President (whoever he is, of whatever party) is actually afraid to engage in a bare-knuckled mano a mano with a bunch of reporters who are (usually) on top of the facts.

That’s how I see RP and JL. Why won’t they engage with me, or any of the other bloggers such as Alder or Eric? If they did, I can speak for the group of us: We would be respectful and keep the dialog on a high level, as we do anyway. It’s true that Tom Matthews, the top editor at Wine Spectator, frequently comments on blogs, but as far as I can tell, it’s not really to engage so much as to respond to criticism, i.e. damage control. It’s not a conversation when all you’re doing is reciting your magazine’s editorial policies.

Wine Spectator and Wine Advocate have taken a thrashing on the blogosphere in part because of their perceived arrogance. I wonder why they’ve held out for this long from engaging in the back-and-forth. It’s certainly not too late; they would be received here with open arms. As for JL, he seems to be more isolated than ever. One never sees him anywhere in California, whether it be at a bloggers conference, a writers conference, a Premier Napa Valley event, or anywhere up and down the state. As far and widely as I travel, I haven’t seen hide nor hair of Jim in years. I wonder why. It seems so, well, twentieth century to play the “I vant to be alone” game. Bob, Jim, come on down! The weather’s fine. You might even find a little romance out here on the dance floor.

Event Alert

My friend Bo Simons, who runs the wonderful Sonoma County Wine Library, asked if I could publicize their upcoming (Feb. 26, 6:30 p.m.) event, which will honor Arturo Robledo. Mr. Robledo worked his way from laborer to supervisor, to vineyard manager and is now a successful business owner. A bevy of wine industry stars will appear at the event, which is at Paradise Ridge Winery, in Santa Rosa. If you’re interested, you can call Bo at 707-433-3772, ext. 5.

[I wrote this last Saturday at the Wine Writers Symposium. Some stuff had popped up, and I was thinking along these lines.]

Outcast. Outlaw. Non-conformist. Punk. Exile. That’s the wine writer. We don’t quite fit in, we [anachronism alert!] ink-stained wretches of the Fourth Estate.

We’ve always been the outsiders, the gadflies and goads who pin-prick the powerful and bring them down to earth, if necessary, with a healthy dose of truth. Next time you’re in a conclave of movers and shakers, with their Armani suits, shiny Tag Heuers and perfectly coiffed hair, look around. That slightly unkempt fellow lurking uneasily at the edge of the room, there physically but not quite included, in his worn old corduroy sports coat, shirt worn for the second day in a row, and in need of a shave, is probably a reporter.

We don’t play the game their way. We play it ours. Even as we break their rules, we ask them — politely, respectfully, and with as much good humor as we can muster — to abide by ours. We are rebels, but we are not rednecks.

The reporter always has had this role, which is why the powerful loathed them. “If one morning I walked on top of the water across the Potomac River,” complained Lyndon Johnson, “the headline that afternoon would read:  ‘President Can’t Swim.’” “Four hostile newspapers are more to be feared than a thousand bayonets,” Napoleon concluded. Left unchecked and unaccountable, the powerful will be corrupted, sometimes without even knowing it. Wittingly or unwittingly, they cut a corner here, overlook a detail there, allow things to slide. Winemakers and winery owners are the power elite in this industry, our Kings and Generals, god-like but not omniscient. They make mistakes, have blind spots, play games. They will tell us how great their wine is and dare you to contradict them, and if you are diffident, they will have got you. It is the role of the wine journalist to tap the errant winemaker’s shoulder and say, “Ahem, excuse me, I hate to tell you this, but…”.

Reminding a winemaker that he has produced something mediocre is a needed task, but never a pleasant one. Telling truth to power should be done with the utmost humility, as well as strength. There are constant temptations to be co-opted by the very system you are sworn to cover. Satan will take you to the mountaintop, show you the power and glory, and whisper, “It’s all yours, my child. Just give me your soul.”

Which the wine writer must never allow. He holds back when traveling in the inner sanctums of the industry. Keeps something in reserve, never allowing himself to become too assimilated. Yet he is only human, and craves companionship. Where does the wine writer fit in? In the fraternity of other wine writers, who alone can understand. We inhabit the writer’s Zeitgeist. With them our weltanschauung is cooperative. At the wine writers symposium, alone among ourselves, without the distracting presence of winemakers or P.R. agents, we were able to see the untruth of Thomas Jefferson’s dictum

Advertisements contain the only truths to be relied on in a newspaper

as we struggled intellectually and morally to figure out how to tell the truth through words in the fairest possible way. We may not have come up with the answer, but our very struggle testified to our sincerity.

I sometimes try, though, to see us through the eyes of winemakers and winery owners. They view us, I think, as exotic beasts. Deep down inside, they’re a little afraid of us. We can, after all, with a keyboard stroke help their bottom line, or hurt it. We wine writers keep winemakers on edge.

I quoted Napoleon above. Here is the rest of his quote: “A journalist is a grumbler, a censurer, a giver of advice, a regent of sovereigns, a tutor of nations.” He meant this as reproval. It was, in fact, praise.

Of America’s 50 states, 18 are control or monopoly (as of 2005), meaning that their citizens can buy alcoholic beverages, including wine, only in state-owned stores. This is a result of the Repeal of Prohibition, when Congress decided on a states-rights approach, as opposed to a national policy, for governing the sale of alcohol.

The system of state monopoly stores has never worked well, depriving consumers of choice and, in many instances, resulting in drab, poorly run venues. It’s odd, too, that so many monopoly states are solid Republican, given that party’s traditional defense of free markets and suspicion of Big Government. For many complicated reasons (not the least of which is that the public hasn’t clamored for an end to monopoly control), changing the system was never high on anyone’s agenda.

That has now changed, for a simple reason: The economy. Nearly every state in the union is bankrupt or close to it. Governors and state legislatures are desperately seeking new sources of revenue. Loathe to raise income taxes, they’re looking at “creative financing,” such as fee and license hikes. Some officials in control states also are thinking what once was the unthinkable: privatizing alcohol sales.

In Washington State, lawmakers have introduced a bill “that would have Washington get completely out of the liquor business, allowing an unlimited number of people to buy licenses to sell liquor, as is done in California.” The idea is that, by selling the state’s warehousing facilities, and by allowing the market to determine prices, Washington could nearly double the $320 million alcoholic beverages brings in annually.

Down in Mississippi, which is suffering from its worst budget crisis since the Great Depression, Republican Gov. Haley Barbour has called for legislation “to privatize the wine-sale functions” of the state’s Alcohol Control Division. In Vermont, a state Senator has introduced a bill “to disband the department of liquor control.” In Virginia, “Bob McDonnell, Virginia’s new Republican governor, made privatization of his state’s liquor stores a key plank of his campaign last year,” according to the Wall Street Journal, which also reports that McDonnell’s idea “is opposed by the Virginia Assembly of Independent Baptists.” And in neighboring North Carolina, the state’s Republican candidate for Governor, Pat McCrory, similarly “said it’s time for North Carolina to get out of the liquor business.”

Sounds like a road to Damascus moment for Repubs. One of the reasons opponents are against this entirely rational, self-interested plan to privatize alcohol sales is that minors would supposedly have easier access to liquor. If you think about it, that’s a bogus argument. It presupposes that a state store employee is less likely to sell liquor to a minor, and that a private store employee is more likely to. It seems to me the chances are about equal in both cases, and incapable of resolving further.

It’s time for America to do away with state-run liquor stores. I mean, where are we, the U.S. or Syria? It would harm no one, and will help financially embattled states raise a little extra cash. I am calling on all politicians in control states to put their money where their mouths are. Are you in favor of market-based capitalism, or of the heavy, controlling hand of government?