by Marcel Beijer
Jeannette Berndsen’s column, in last week’s edition of this wonderful magazine, brought a smile to my lips. It is so easily recognizable how the wine culture of Americans differs from that of Europeans. Even reputable California wine regions like Napa Valley are nothing like France.
OK, the production process is similar. However, the perception differs greatly. For French people, wine is a necessity of life. To most Americans, it’s a drink for oddballs.
I also had a curious experience in that regard in 2018, when I was staying in Beatty, Nevada. I was there for a week doing research for my book Golden Mountains. That story is set in the gold mining town of Rhyolite, 5 miles from Beatty and today a ghost town.
At night in my hotel room I would process the impressions I had picked up during the day, on my laptop. I often like to do that with a glass of wine.
This was not easy.
Beatty is the gateway to Death Valley and is sitting in the middle of the desert. The town has a little bar called ‘The Happy Burro’ that sells wine.
But stocking up on a nice bottle for the hotel room?
Beatty has no supermarket. There is a Candy & Gas station (Eddie World) for truckers and a gas station that has a small store.
But they don’t sell wine.
No matter how much I searched the hamlet: no wine.
I don’t want to brand myself addicted, certainly not, but it was beginning to frustrate me: I wanted wine!
And when I even tried – against my better judgment – at Family Dollar (and, of course, fell flat) I made a decision as firm as it was silly. I drove 30 miles to the intersection of Highway 95 and 373. There I had seen a little store earlier (photos).
They sold swill wines for $13 a bottle.
I bought two bottles and drove 30 miles back again, satisfied.
* Marcel Beijer is a journalist in Almere and winner of the Dutch News Magazine Journalism Prize 2023.
