En la alabanza del vino y de la naturaleza

From vine to wine, the grape exists only to be transmogrified: squozen from its skin, translating sunshine into warmth within, bottled like a prisoner, contained and held - a sentence extended by desirability, drinkability, the ability to age - and breathing again only once the cork is removed. Pulled from the bottle, it emerges with the sound that nothing else can replicate; breathing, decanted, swirling at last when poured.

And in breathing has two noses, one providing scents of hay, of fruit, of sun, of days gone by, the other, sniffing, longing, wanting to sip but waiting. The swirling, taking in the bouquet, waiting to taste, is part of the joy - to pause, only for a short while, but enough to say "gratification deferred" and then for indulgence to take its part.

And then the body and the blood combined, the edge of just decay turning instead to bursting tastes of life renewed, the first taste lingering, changing on your palate the bliss of Burgundy, the rejoicing of Rioja, the brilliance of Brunello. Give me not the common Claret, import from ancient Aquitaine, but instead the robust body, the lasting pleasure, of the taste of heaven - not of earthly things.

From: David Blunkett "In praise of wine and nature"