Overall, although I struggle with questions of faith and death (that last one is probably going to be a blog post at some point), I joke about being technically a Retired Catholic. This sentiment is best summed up in a quote from “The Sun Also Rises” where Jake Barnes reflects on his lapsed Catholicism as thinking it to be a grand religion but only that he wished he felt more religious and maybe he will next time.
What this means is that, when I am around people in prayer, I do cross myself. Genuflecting is a thing. I have a smattering of useless Church Latin that bounces around my brain. I have a weird sense of subconscious theological superiority, come at me.
Oh, and I fast during that glorious time known as Lent.
The stereotype of Lent, of course, is giving up chocolate or some other relatively inconsequential thing. This, in my mind, kind of misses the point of fasting. It’s not that it’s supposed to hurt but it’s at least supposed to be a sacrifice of some kind. It’s in one sense a way to grow in appreciation for the things you do have. The other use for fasting is to push yourself into knew things, to learn and to grow without some of the things you have. A chance to expand your horizons.
I think there’s some piece of theology related to using Lent as an educational experience as opposed to a sacrificial one. A period of self-betterment and learning. That interested me when I was preparing for this Lent. It is for that reason I decided to try a “two birds with one stone” fasting period.
I gave up red wine.
On the surface yes this seems like a ‘haha’ minor sacrifice, but here’s my justification: I work in wine. I’m a sommelier. Cutting out red wine cuts out nearly fifty percent of wine. I also do drink substantially more red wine. A quick survey of my bottles in the days leading up to Lent showed that 2/3 of the wine I own is red.
Therefore, my quest had a second element to the sacrifice: drink and learn more about white wine. Ironic, considering I once did a thesis about sweet and white wine (I love my sauternes). It’s not that I don’t love white wine, I just don’t drink quite enough of it. I’m also in a rut when it comes to whites. Macon Chardonnay, New Zealand Sauv Blanc, Vinho Verde, Riesling from work, and that’s about it. This was a chance to expand my horizons, move forward without my go-to drink, and force myself to learn more about something I ostensibly specialize in.
I failed.
I failed hard.
But that’s not to say I did not accomplish those goals. I just accomplished them in a different field.
Beer. I drank a lot of beer through Lent. I tried a lot of different beers thanks to that wonderful program supermarkets do where you can get a mix-n-match six-pack. That’s a fantastic system. When canned wine becomes a bigger thing, I want that to be a thing for wine. Mix and match wine. For now, maybe it’s because wine is a bigger investment than beer, or maybe it’s just because humans are weird, I have greatly expanded my knowledge of beer and the styles I do and do not enjoy.
Belgian White-style beers are awesome. I actually found an IPA I like. (A note to everyone producing IPA’s- more hops do not equal better beer. Take a lesson from oaked chardonnay. Your time is coming). I always knew I liked pilsners, but I never really took the time to realize how varied pilsners can be. There’s a lot of pilsners out there!
But maybe that’s also just what life is like sometimes. Maybe I’m wrong to think of it as failure. I mean my original goals were not met, sure. That happens. Sometimes you go hunting for turkey and have a bear encounter (that happened recently. It’s true what they say, bears, at least black bears, are a lot smaller than you think they are). Sometimes you are taken to McDonald’s and your grandfather steals a duck. I can’t say the amount of times I’ve outlined and re-outline, written and re-written stories (but if you think I put that much energy into my blog posts, you’re wrong. Partially wrong.)
I’m drinking red wine now, writing this. One of my favorites, 2010 Finca Abril 1922 La Consulta Malbec. There’s the familiar dark fruit, still a wonderful tannic presence, hints of graphite. It’s deep, smooth, and welcoming. Maybe I’m just a red wine drinker at heart.
But there’s a mixed six pack of beer from the supermarket in my fridge at home. I’m kind of excited about it.