There comes a time of reckoning for everyone in the food and wine business. The search for balance between hedonism and health is a fine line, and one that is finally being discussed in an industry where consuming 5 course meals and entire bottle(s) of wine in an evening is not so uncommon.
Over the past several months I’ve made some changes to my lifestyle in terms of what I consume. Don’t get me wrong, I still LOVE wine and won’t ever be giving up cheese, bacon, or even bread. But months of too many Taco Tuesdays had my closet silently admonishing me; I decided to make some lifestyle changes.
But how do we achieve balance in a culture that often glorifies busy and trivializes authenticity and quality?
Now, I’m either eating right or I’m really indulging- there’s not much of a middle ground for me. It’s either green smoothies and salads, or the cheese plate and vintage port, please!
I’ve also dedicated days and weeks without alcohol- shocking, I know, but I find that these resets are particularly helpful after an indulgent vacation. I also make it a point to get to the gym and train with a trainer- Andrew Schneiderman of Balance Gym. Not only does he keep me laughing while I sweat it out, but those appointments keep me accountable to my fitness in a way that a simple membership just doesn’t.
One of the interesting aspects of this change has been how much more conscientious I am when I do indulge. I try not to drink mediocre wine and if I’m going to have something like tacos, they’re no longer of the Chipotle variety. Not only has this created a healthier balance, it’s made me far more conscientious about my indulgences and I really do feel healthier overall.
I have found that the products I’m consuming have a focus on authenticity and quality; typically, they’re also better for both the environment and my health.
If you’re a food and wine lover how do you achieve balance?
I would be remiss to not address my absence from writing. Several years ago I went to wine school and switched my hobby and my career- wine for politics. Like many, I have had a hard time writing about wine and lifestyle during a time when things seem dire. I’ve even considered dusting off my political resumé and getting back in the game to work on issues I care most about. Living in the middle of the nation’s capital can be both exciting and exhausting when tensions are this high. Dear friends and family members are estranged by ideologies in a way that I’ve never seen before.
Many wine and lifestyle writers are wondering if our duties perhaps lie elsewhere. And for some, they may. However, I have been reminded many times that the world needs all sorts, particularly during times of great stress. Our society and our lives would be rather bleak indeed without art, music, travel, the joy of sharing a great meal and great conversation.
And let’s be honest, more than a few of us have been reaching for wine bottles to soothe frayed nerves, regardless of how we feel about world affairs or where one lies on the political spectrum.
I was reminded recently of a lesson I learned over a decade ago in Greece while studying political philosophy and conflict resolution with The Fund for American Studies. I’ve written briefly about my time there. It wasn’t in air conditioned classrooms where I learned the most, but rather over hearty debates with a glass of local wine in under grape vined trellises, on breathtaking beaches over frosty glasses of Mythos, and on terraces watching the sun rise over Chania after staying out all night. There were myriad religions represented that summer. 19 countries. Countless opinions. At first glance there was far more to divide us than unite us- and yet, that’s what happened. I am reminded once again what we were taught that summer. The questions unite us and the answers divide us, which has perhaps never rung truer.
During a recent social media debate over a political issue things got rather heated, as they are wont to do. At long last, once the parties had agreed to disagree, I made a wine recommendation based on something I knew the other person would love. And then the strangest thing happened; I received an apology for something that had offended me in the dialogue. No Greek island required.
And I realized anew that perhaps it’s not just the questions that can unite us, but a shared bottle of a 2012 Brunello. Or a 2008 Champagne. Or a beautiful vintage tawny port.