Let the young find their way to me

If you want to explore the wine world with nothing but good intentions and a thirst for knowledge, you might find yourself frustrated amid aromas you didn't even know existed, people who examine wine color with the attentiveness a geologist might grant a rock from Mars or professionals who swirl their wine glass with a wrist movement so astoundingly graceful, a master chef beating eggs would pale by comparison.

This scenario bears closer resemblance to a David Lynch movie than an ordinary situation anyone other than a professional wine taster might encounter. So it should come as no surprise that young people flee in terror and seek the safety of other beverages. Beverages that, in their view, can be drunk without thinking about how to hold the glass—unless you want to come across as a fool—and without feeling like every sip is a test where the moment your concentration wanders, you'll be asked to name the variety or appellation of origin.

Seriously—do we still need to ask ourselves why young people regard wine with suspicion? Put in simple terms: it's like learning how to read with Lorca's poetry or William Faulkner's prose.

Let's leave the wine paraphernalia and philosophical musings to the professional tasters. The rest of us mortals should simply enjoy the wine. That's it.

Remember that sunset on the beach with a group of friends and a bottle of rosé, which saw the waves break on the shore and bore witness to conversations that kept going long after the sun had set. Or that young red that we shared when our childhood friend got his heart broken. Or that white we had at Merche's party, the photos of which are still on Facebook. And who doesn't remember that cava, the introduction to our wine adventure, which we sipped just so, a tiny taste to see what it was all about.

We got our start drinking those sweet concoctions, wine mixed with other beverages or soft drinks. It's not sacrilege—it's evolution. We gradually cast them aside as we get older. After a while, we discover that Tempranillo is one of the most widely planted varieties in our country. One day we pick up our glass and notice an aroma that reminds us of something, even though we can't really say what at first. At some point, we find out that Spain has over sixty-five appellations of origin, and we try to figure out what that means and what purpose they serve. Perhaps one day, a friend tells us about a guy who lives in his dad's village and makes wine. “Why don't we go for a bike ride,” he says, “And while we're at it, stop for a glass of wine?” Once there we discover the winegrower's effort, hard work and passion for the land, as well as the enologist's meticulous care in finding the perfect blend of different varietal wines. After our visit, we realize that behind every wine and every bottle there is a story and individual people. And suddenly, it no longer seems so abstract and removed.

But there's more. Wine invites us to new, unique, hidden-away places. It shows us where it comes from. Albariño tells us about its life in Galicia and how well it gets along with fish and seafood; Verdejo talks to us about Rueda and how, given the choice, it also prefers the sea; Pedro Ximénez, meanwhile, speaks of light, sun...and Andalucía, as well as of how much it loves being paired with sweets, but also likes strong cheeses and foie when you really want to spice things up a bit.

When we explore the streets of Italy on our post-college-graduation trip and try real, authentic Lambrusco, we realize that is has absolutely nothing to do with the sweet sparkling pink wine we used to drink at the pizzeria next door.

If we go to Germany, on the other hand, we'll try a Riesling or Gewürztraminer ice wine, which, we've been told, is made from frozen grapes and cannot be produced naturally in Spain. And wow, what a surprise it is! If we head to France, of course, the answer is obvious: “Waiter, a Burgundy, please!”

The post-college-graduation trip is over and now comes the summer. And with it those afternoons when we’re with a friend, combing the internet for special getaway deals. Maybe we decide to book a flight to the Canary Islands to pay Marta or Pablo a surprise visit, and we rent a car with our brand new license. As we tool around the island, we stop, astounded. We’ve spotted grapevines planted in holes dug into the dark, almost black, soil. We've never seen anything like it. Our curiosity gets the better of us, and we ask around. The locals explain that it protects the plant from the strong winds.

And so we realize that wine is there to be enjoyed, experienced and shared without any need for gobbledygook, pretensions or props other than a few good friends, some laughs and a good conversation. That's it. So let young people find their own way to wine. Cheers!

Mónica Ramírez, editor-in-chief, Vinos y Restaurantes