A REASON FOR WINE

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Today is the day when we are told to remember the Wedding Feast of Cana, and it always happens to me that I want to invite a large group of people to my house to celebrate what I consider to be one of the most amazing stories ever told. Water is changed into wine, and into an excellent wine, and to the tune of 6 large vessels filled to the brim! Mind you, this is after all the wine that was originally provided for the feast has been consumed. How awesome is that?

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Today is the day when we are told to remember the Wedding Feast of Cana, and it always happens to me that I want to invite a large group of people to my house to celebrate what I consider to be one of the most amazing stories ever told. Water is changed into wine, and into an excellent wine, and to the tune of 6 large vessels filled to the brim! Mind you, this is after all the wine that was originally provided for the feast has been consumed. How awesome is that?

Bartolomé Esteban Murillo: The Marriage Feast At Cana

I would venture to say that there is no other story, book or argument out there that is more persuasive than this one when it comes to encouraging the consumption of (good) wine. This is definitely a day that should be honored as “International Wine Day”, and why not? What other substance out there, besides bread, has been more closely associated with humanity and progress? Think of the great moments in philosophy, such as Plato’s Symposium, which was, basically, a wine drinking party that is now necessarily referred to whenever “love” is discussed, at least in philosophical terms, and what greater philosophical concept is there than “love”?
Or consider great literary works, and one of the greatest: Don Quixote de la Mancha. Sancho Panza is seldom caught without wine, and is an amazing connoisseur, or sommelier, if you will. Take this brilliant passage from Book II, Chapter XIII:

“…he thrust it [the wine bota] into Sancho’s hands, who raising it aloft pointed to his mouth, gazed at the stars for a quarter of an hour; and when he had done drinking let his head fall on one side, and giving a deep sigh, exclaimed, “Ah, whoreson rogue, how catholic it is!”

“There, you see,” said he of the Grove, hearing Sancho’s exclamation, “how you have called this wine whoreson by way of praise.”

“Well,” said Sancho, “I own it, and I grant it is no dishonour to call anyone whoreson when it is to be understood as praise. But tell me, senor, by what you love best, is this Ciudad Real wine?”

“O rare wine-taster!” said he of the Grove; “nowhere else indeed does it come from, and it has some years’ age too.”

“It is with good reasons, says Sancho to the squire with the great nose, that I pretend to have judgment in wine: this is a quality hereditary in our family. Two of my kinsmen were once called to give their opinion of a hogshead, which was supposed to be excellent, being old and of a good vintage. One of them tastes it, considers it; and, after mature reflection, pronounces the wine to be good, were it not for a small taste of leather which he perceived in it. The other, after using the same precautions, gives his verdict in favor of the wine; but with the reserve of a taste of iron, which he could easily distinguish. You cannot imagine how much they were both ridiculed for their judgment. But who laughed in the end? On emptying the hogshead, there was found at the bottom an old key with a leathern thong tied to it.”

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