Quick note: Next week, I’m planning to dive into the intersection of hospitality and domestic violence. If you weren’t already aware, I’m a domestic violence/intimate partner violence survivor, and October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month. Just a heads-up in case it would be better for your mental space to not engage with that subject. I’ll make the email header clear, too, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to mention in advance.
Hi, friends.
Here I am, fresh off the tasting circuit and excited to share some discoveries with you.
In case you missed it (read: in case you don’t follow me on Instagram, which you should if you enjoy content about wine/toddlers and the occasional rant/rage about intersectional food ways), I spent last week in New York, eating at Le Veau d’Or (a perfect restaurant!) and Tacqueria Ramirez (a perfect taco!) and spending literally fifteen hours (fifteen hours!) with the winemakers and various other scrappy members of the Zev Rovine Selections wine world, of which I’ve been lucky to be a small part as a buyer of their wines since 2011. It was a truly heart-filling, surprisingly wholesome 48 hours, even given the earnest confessional I overheard en route to the bathroom at the afterparty—I don’t know, man. I just can’t do cocaine like I used to. New York, everybody!
I had a lovely time, mostly because the full-contact visit allowed me to have real conversations with people I’m more often forced to cram five years’ worth of catching up with into 5-7 minutes of interaction whilst being jostled by folks trying to taste as much Burgundy as possible before they have to be back at the restaurant for pre-shift. I had a really good chat with Evan Lewandowski (truly one of my favorite humans) about fascism and California grape growers (separately) over mozzarella sticks and shaken Montenegro. I had an exceptional chat with another femme wine pro about coming to motherhood late in life, building queer families, and what it takes to run a sustainable wine-centered company in these times (both reproduction and profitability, it turns out, are complicated, messy, and extremely stressful). I also drank a lot of good wine (in moderation) and had one single, glorious cigarette.
The wine was good in unexpected ways. Some of the best were from very young regions (Mexico, Japan), and very young winemakers (Chenoa Ashton-Lewis at Ashanta Wines). Even in a room full of heavy-hitters (including the actual Chateau Lafite-Rothschild), these underdogs stood out not just for their unlikely provenance—the wines were fascinating, precise, and undeniably delicious.
Fast-forward a few days, and we hosted a small cohort of the ZRS crew at Wild Child for a blowout tasting featuring, by coincidence, a handful of the same wines that had caught my very difficult to catch attention earlier in the week. Among a sea of beautiful wines from more familiar regions, it was a small selection of not-inexpensive Japanese and Quebecois cuvées that won crowd favorite this time.
On the heels of what was effectively a big family reunion, this revelation felt like a homecoming of sorts—it reminded me of the early days of natural wine, when discovery was a daily experience. Of course, the world of natural wine is consistently evolving; our broad acceptance of—enthusiasm for, even—the unusual is baked into the movement’s value system. At the same time, after more than a decade in this tiny corner of the wine world, what was previously unexpected sometimes feels routine. Indigenous grape varieties? Ok. Ancestral land being revived by a young generation? Gotcha. Fermented in clay amphora? Sure. We’ve been swimming in the waters for long enough now we sometimes just float.
But as the wine world shrinks, those of us who’ve positioned ourselves on the front lines of this weird battle for better wine and land stewardship can’t afford to be bored by what was once thrilling—because we’re the only ones who can be the beacons of enthusiasm this industry desperately needs. Who the fuck else is going to sell this stuff? Winemakers need us, younger generations of wine drinkers need us, and—as Evan Lewandowski emphasized while I stress-ate fried cheese at the bar at Three Decker—the grape growers need us, which means farmers need us, which is basically the most urgent need of all as far as I’m concerned.
So! It was really cool and really rewarding and really important for me to see all of the wide eyes hovering over the Les Vin Vivants and Grape Republic and Pinard et Filles wines at our big tasting on Sunday. I’m amped to see y’all amped in general, but I was also amped to feel amped again. This reminded me that I need to remain amped, not just for me, not just for y’all, but for the whole ecosystem of natural wine humans trying to keep this thing moving, trying to live by our values—and yeah, trying to feed our families. This is the house we built, and ain’t nobody gonna keep the lights on but us.
I’ve already put some good stuff in motion in an effort to keep educating and illuminating (see: a wider range of affordable classes at Wild Child along with our regular Wednesday free tastings, our Champagne Club, continued Special Sauce programming at Rebel Rebel and Dear Annie), and I have a few more ideas to bring even more to the/your table. I’m feeling energized and reinvested. It’s a good feeling.
But I want to hear from you, too. What would make you feel more motivated to engage? What would get you out of the house and into a class or event? Do you want to attend a wine dinner? More tastings? A Peach Farm night? (spoiler: this is one of my ideas). Any thoughts about those topics, formats, or themes? Give me your wildest desires. I have the whole natural wine world at my fingertips, and I’m here to make your dreams come true. (If you have even an inkling of a thought, please please please, take the 2 minutes to blurt it out. I promise, it really does make a difference, and I really do want to know.)
Speaking of all of this, because I’d like you to have the chance to experience what I got to experience last week, all wines from Les Vins Vivants, Grape Republic, and Pinard et Filles are 10% off. The discount has already been applied both online and in the shop, so you can snap them up and know you’re already getting the best price. I’ll be posting some late-November classes featuring these wines soon, too, so subscribe to our Eventbrite if you haven’t already.
That’s all for now.
Lots of love,
Lauren
P.S. There’s still time to get tix for A Seat At The Table at Dear Annie on Thursday. Don’t miss this celebration of Black excellence in culinary form with Chef Trin Benjamin, with a wine selection by Dear Annie Wine Steward Pearl Carter, and a guest winemaker appearance by Ryan of NOK Vino.
Thanks again for the incredible tasting 🙌🏼, that was super special