The Greatest Gift I Never Got.

Grenache |grəˈnä sh |
noun
a variety of black wine grape native to the Languedoc-Roussillon region of France.
• a sweet red dessert wine made from this grape.


"You know you guys didn't have to get anything for me," I said, and unlike most people during the holidays I actually meant it. Christmas in my family is another day with God. He really doesn't need to reinforce it on December 25th. "I really am not expecting anything."

"I know but Seth really wanted to get you a bottle of wine," my friend told me. Seth was her brother and though I had met him only once, I had instantly like him. He seemed like the kind of guy who appreciated genuine people.

"Well that was nice of him," I said, "but I really don't need anything."

"It was really funny," my friend went on telling me in her kitchen as we poured glasses of Riesling, "Seth was asking everybody, 'Don't you have any grenache?' We had all of Meijers looking for a bottle of it. He was like, 'It's Phil's favorite.'"

Many people know that I developed an interest in wines. I think this is pretty much because I was jealous with so many people having an hobby like model railroads or video games or stamp collecting. So, I have delved into writing and photography, cooking and wine drinking. I remember the first wine I ever had was in communion, and it is a miracle that I continued to be curious after that because if there is anything that can turn one off wine drinking it is probably communion.

Years later I went to college at a dry campus. Yes, a college with no alcohol sounds like watching an Hollywood Blockbuster with no special effects, but in reality without the distractions one does have a clearer idea of all the things going on. Still, I think ... it messed me up a little bit though because I was more interested in learning about alcohol after that.*

When I went to Spain I had a sangria that was quite possibly the worst sangria of my entire life; and yet I wanted to know exactly if there was a great wine. I had drank all the beers that one could, but I was still curious about this next step. When I got back from my trip, I went to the local wine section of my favorite grocery store in Cincinnati, Jungle Jim's, and asked what I should have next. The answer was that I should try this Spanish wine called Vina Alarba.

That wine will always be my favorite because it made me love wines. It is made from the grenache grape, but actually that is not its real name. The French called it that when they took it over the Pyrenees and started planting it in the Languedoc-Roussillon region.**

In Spain, where it is likely to have originated, it is called garnacha. It is still one of the most planted grapes there, but is not really well-known over here in the new world. It is also beautiful.

It's tastes are not subtle, but rich and bold. They are not heavy with the ether of alcohol, but rich with the flavors of the grape itself. In Spain's hot dry climate one can tell that this is a grape that is a survivor. It clings to every drop of rain that falls in that arid climate and concentrates and treasures its flavors deep in its berry. When the wine is made you know that it is a survivor and that it is rich with character.

"Oh wow. I'm really appreciative, but you can't find grenache around here," I began slowly as I realized the thought that had gone into this gift. It was a search for a grape that I had mentioned only once to a friend who I had met only a couple of times. I continued, "I have only seen it mixed with another grape around here. You have to go pretty far to get a bottle."

"Well, he tried to get it for you," she went on, and smiled as she said it.

"I know it sounds trite," I said, "but its the thought that counts."

Gosh, what a trite saying is! It is overused as people get us gifts for which we have no use (and even less room). We say it to people who miss parties or events. We even mutter it about failed attempts at things. Its a throw-away phrase like, "Thank you." or "Have a nice day." or even "How are you?". When I was a child, such words were so empty. When I was child, I tried to mean words the words in those phrases or I tried to really care about the cards people attached to my presents; but to be truthful, I just wanted the swag. What card could ever compare to a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figure wearing an hockey jersey or a Transformer? When your a kid, you appreciate the objects; I guess when you get older you appreciate the thought.

None of us like to be forgotten, especially by friends and strangers. Like the song, "Auld Lang Syne," we wish not to be the forgotten through the mists of "Days Gone By." Memories of people seem to be shorter and shorter; and we forget loved one's; but we hope that we can make up our shortcomings as good friends when they get a brief biography of the past year in a Christmas card.

However, it is the kindness of brief friends, the re-occuring "touching base" of old friends, and unexpected phone calls; that really make this world a beautiful place. Christmas presents and holiday letters are well-and-good, but they lack the pure kindness of person who lives up to the honest to God cliché, "Well, it's the thought that counts."



* I never fall in love with anything without full participation of my neurons. The irony of alcohol is that it negates the proper functioning of the neurons; and is a joyful paradox, kind of like talking about a square circle; which exists and doesn't at the same time. Or perhaps it is more like trying to make it to zero Kelvin or hit terminal velocity or get to absolute singularity.

** Can you see now why I love wine? When is the last time that a bottle of Mountain-Dew ever had such an interesting history?