by Al Drinkle
While walking to work at some unreasonably early hour a few days ago, I encountered a familiar customer on the sidewalk. He returned my greeting with a quizzical look and inquired as to where I was going. I answered that I was on my way to work, to which he replied, “but the shop doesn’t open for several hours!”. Now it was my turn to look bemused. I suppose he thought that we just show up at 10 a.m. to flick the lights on, and then stand around drinking until customers start filing in. I took it as a compliment that we make it look that easy.
Sometimes during my rare moments of contemplation in December, I feel a bit guilty that Metrovino’s seasonal success is partly due to the annual cyclone of commercialism that spins through the privileged world. But when I repose with a glass of wine at the end of a busy day, I’m quickly reminded that the flavours are liquid postcards from special places, brought to fruition by impassioned people working closely with nature. I’m consoled that Metrovino plays a role in this nexus, and we can’t overstate how grateful we are to all of you for supporting our pursuits.
The winegrowers deserve all the credit for their hard work in ushering such estimable products into existence, and my colleagues and I take pride in knowing that Metrovino’s success means that authentically-made and intrinsically meaningful wines are being gifted and consumed. We could feel no such satisfaction following the easier path and feeding the consumer frenzy with vapid, industrial bullshit with no more “meaning” than vacuum cleaner bags.
Our industry isn’t the only one that’s bustling at this time of year, and when one’s day consists almost entirely of working (and perhaps shovelling snow), maintaining some sort of connection to nature’s astonishing beauty is imperative. And amidst a frozen urban landscape and merciless schedules, authentic and delicious wine is a convenient way to glimpse this beauty.
