An ‘important’ or ‘easy-drinking’ wine? It’s not just a matter of taste, but of changing times

And that isn’t necessarily a bad thing – quite the opposite, in fact. For years we have confused complexity with quality, as if, to be considered authoritative, a bottle of wine had to present us with a philosophical treatise. Simplicity, when it stems from balance rather than trivialisation, is a quality that is anything but easy to achieve.

The problem arises when superficiality becomes an excuse for never delving deeper. Because, in the meantime, our relationship with attention has also changed. We read less, listen less, and get bored after just a few minutes. If a song doesn’t grab us straight away, we skip it. If an article is long, we leave it there. If a conversation requires concentration, someone checks their phone. Let alone when we’re sitting with a glass of wine.

Even at the table, we often seek instant gratification. A pleasant, familiar sip, without too many questions. It’s the same ‘everything, right now’ mindset that we now apply almost everywhere. We want a restaurant with no waiting, an answer without going into detail, a news story in three lines, a Netflix series that hits the ground running from the very first scene. Even people, sometimes, have to be immediately understandable. If they require attention and patience, they become complicated.

Yet some bottles, like some people, do not reveal themselves straight away. They change in the glass; they open up; they surprise you. At first, they may seem closed off, even surly. Then, if we give them a chance, they begin to tell a story.

Our vocabulary has changed too. We used to look for something ‘important’, whereas today we ask for ‘smoothness’, ‘drinkability’ and ‘freshness’. These terms reflect a genuine evolution in taste, but also a certain impatience with anything that requires patience.

The success of the refermented wines, macerated wines, and fresher, lower-alcohol interpretations should also be viewed in this light. These are not merely fads, but a response to consumers whose desires and priorities have changed. Even alcohol, which for decades was almost a symbol of structure and authority, is now viewed with greater caution.

And then there’s the great return to freshness. For years, a bottle had to be ‘muscular’ to be considered important. Today, if it’s too muscular, it’s referred to a good nutritionist – the sort who starts straight away by measuring thigh circumference.

Even the concept of luxury has changed. It used to be associated with intensity, power, wood and price. Today, it can mean precision, elegance and the ability to complement a dinner without turning it into an ordeal.

All this does not mean that we should yearn for the past. I have never believed that wine should stand still whilst the world changes. Tradition is not a museum, just as innovation is not automatically a virtue.

Lightness is an achievement when it follows complexity. Otherwise, it is merely superficiality. And perhaps, sometimes, the glass is simply reflecting back to us the portrait of a society that wants everything to be easier. Even what it drinks.