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Red Wine On The Brink? Not If I Have Anything To Do With It | Rachel Cooke

In Bordeaux, winemakers are demanding government compensation to destroy vines and turn unsold stock into industrial alcohol, prices having collapsed thanks to overproduction and changed drinking habits. Consumption of red wine in France has fallen by 32% in the last decade, and one reason is said to be that people are eating less red meat.

Obviously, it’s good that the citizens of Lyon and other places whose red check tablecloths cry out to my stomach, even at a distance of several hundred miles, are consuming less steak and saucisson; better for their health, the planet and animal welfare. But perhaps this is a small warning, too.

The world of food, like any other, is subject to the law of unintended consequences. It’s culinary Jenga: pull at one element, however delicately, and several other things may wobble, threatening a culture, ancient and beautiful, that is every bit as enriching to humanity as music or literature. The Oxford Companion to Wine has 4,000 entries. People have been eating reblochon since the 14th century. What a skill it is to make a pristine stock, and deploy it in a magnificent sauce. Such things connect us, in powerful ways, to our ancestors.

In the matter of Bordeaux, however, no need to panic just yet. I hardly think Lafite, Haut-Brion and the rest are in trouble, and life might be more enjoyable if we all drank better wine, less often (funds allowing). For my part, I have two guiding principles when it comes to wine, both pinched from male novelists. I agree with Jay McInerney that all wine aspires to be red; in the end, it is the best. And I think one should be generous with it. As Kingsley Amis said, if you do open a bottle, for heaven’s sake have the grace to throw away the damn cork.

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