Wines for Your Book Club and Books for Your Wine Club
Perhaps the greatest club of all time.
by Erin Henderson
If expensive, leather-bound wine lists in whimsical cosplay are to be considered, one of the most quoted phrases about wine belongs to Ernest Hemingway: "Wine is one of the most civilized things in the world..."
Me? I'm more partial to the sardonic descriptor in Jay McInerney's first, and stratospherically successful first book, Bright Lights, Big City: "...a bouquet with a hint of migrant-worker sweat.”
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As a book lover and a wine lover, I hold a soft spot for novels that expertly weave drinking and eating into the story. When an author does it well, sprinkling in a dinner scene here, an afternoon cocktail there, what's on the table and in the glass is a brilliant way of revealing the character, the mood, and the point in the plot and timeline. Think of the eagle carpaccio in American Pyscho. Of course, there is no such dish, it's as absurd as it is dangerous (a bed of E. coli with a light Salmonella foam, anyone?) but author Bret Easton uses this fictionalized dish to masterfully to spear the superfluous wealth of Wall Street in the 1980's.
In the movie Chocolat, based on the 1999 book of the same name, the draconian mayor, Comte de Reynaud, is writing alone in his stark office during lent. A piece of cake sits on his desk, taunting him. Actor Alfred Molina looks pained with distracting seduction by the sweet he denies himself. Eventually he takes the plate and forcefully shoves it behind a sculpture on his desk, so he won't be tempted any longer. There are no words, just the tortured soul of want, and its violent handling by a self-flagellating disciplinarian.
With the start of the new school year beginning, and the reboot of cozy book clubs for the fall season, I thought it would be fun to look at some great reads with beautiful culinary scenes. Even if these novels aren't on your syllabus, perhaps they'll offer inspiration for your next book-and-wine club meeting.
A Year in Provence, Peter Mayle paired with Champagne
I'm almost embarrassed to include this memoir – not because it's not deserving, but because it is so obviously so. If you're one of the very few wine and food lovers, or Francophiles, who have not yet devoured this 1989 classic, it must go to the top of your TBR pile. British-born Mayle hilariously outlines his first year in his new home of Provence, and the cultural mishaps that ensue. With luscious descriptors of everything from a frog's leg festival to the fall wine harvest, it's tough to not put the book down and get into the kitchen to begin a three-day cassoulet. In fact, it's Mayle's gently whimsical and softly sophisticated retelling of a New Year's lunch that has persuaded me to celebrate the year change with a civilized mid-day meal instead of a tortuous late-night party.
Dinner with Edward, Isabelle Vincent paired with Martini
This is a memoir from Canadian-American journalist, Isabelle Vincent, who, as a favour to a friend, had dinner with the friend’s lonely, widowed father. What was supposed to be a one-off, nice-thing-to-do, becomes a mutually enjoyable friendship between the 40-something year old Vincent struggling through a limping marriage and a 90-something Edward, struggling to find joy after his wife of 50 years died. The pair start meeting weekly for dinner at his place, which the multi-talented Edward prepares by hand, not to mention his legendary martinis, served so cold they have ice flecks floating on the surface. The odd-couple learns from each other and bring joy back to each other’s lives, while building a fantastic friendship that defies the generations. I loved this story, and particularly Edward’s menus which start each chapter – though I didn’t always agree with the wine pairing, but let's not sully an otherwise good thing.
The Editor, Steven Rowley with paired with Classic Daiquiri
I credit this book with bringing (back) my love of daiquiris. The Editor is a fictionalized portrait of a bust-out newbie author and his editor … Jackie Kennedy Onassis. One of the more interesting elements of the book is Jackie’s penchant for cocktail hour. As dreamed up by Rowley, Mrs. Onassis is quite the bartender, and since Rowley clearly did his research on the former first lady’s life, maybe she really was, though I seem to think she would just have people to do that for her. Anyway, in one of the early scenes between the protagonist and Jackie, she whips up a few champion daiquiris from a bottle of expensive rum she had rolling around in her office desk drawer and a few limes she swiped from the Doubleday cafeteria. And she hands him his drink on an elegant silver tray – as one does when drinking in the office.
Miss Eliza's English Kitchen, Annabel Abbs paired with Bordeaux
This is also historical fiction, and based on the real-life adventures of Eliza Acton, an aspiring poet, who is instead advised by a potential publisher she would be better off writing a cookery book. Many see Acton's work as a precursor to the also real-life Mrs. Beeton's Book of Household Management, and there is significant evidence to suggest Mrs. Beeton simply stole the work of Miss Acton. Food and cooking are central to the novel, obviously, but there is of course mention of taking tea and the occasional nip of after-dinner sherry. Still, knowing the time period (1835), Bordeaux, which the English call claret, was immensely popular among the upper classes.
The Lost Vintage, Ann Mah paired with Pinot Noir
More historical fiction. This one is about a failing Master of Wine candidate who flees her American home and returns to her family's estate in Burgundy (I mean, don't you just wish ...?) There are plenty of subplots of love and mystery and a what really happened in World War II between her family, the resistance and missing bottles of enormously valuable bottles of wine.
The Henna Artist, Alka Joshi with Scotch
This is one of my favourite books of all time: it's vivid and haunting and deeply rich with story and description of 1950's Jaipur. I still think of the characters and wonder what they’re doing now. While food and drink are not central to the mystery and drama that is layered in the pages, there are many casual mentions of it: meetings over tea and sweets, the tired cooking of simple dinners after a long day, the fragrant and chaotic markets stuffed full of food vendors, and of course, a never-ending stream of chai, are all woven into the narrative. One of the main characters (and a personal favourite) enjoys strong, smoky Laphroaig in the evenings while contemplating the news of the day.
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