Wine as Witness
Inviting people over is a ritual.
It’s a beautiful exercise in curation. Your tastes, hospitality, and the experiences you want your guests to remember – everything is intentional.
You want it to be a complete experience – visual, auditory, gastronomical.
You bring out your statement pieces (the thinnest-stemmed wine glasses you own, and all your favourite ceramics), an assortment of red and white wine, and of course, crockery for the food. You lay it all out on the burgundy and olive-green chintz table runner that brings out the moody hues of your cedar wood dining table. Then, you spend a few minutes perfecting your candle placement. The hesitant flicker of the flames is speaking to you. You step back and admire the setup.
A mix of downtempo and bossa nova plays on the speakers, and only you know how many hours were spent adding and removing tracks from this playlist until it was perfect. Even the music, which is ultimately fated to be drowned out by the conversations and the laughter, is intentional. You relish every part of this.
Okay. Moment of truth.
One by one your guests trickle in, and the witty and sociable host in you takes over. Dozens of compliments about your house and your setup for the evening are immediately showered on you.
Many a glass of wine and second helpings of dinner later, the night comes to a close. You take a look around. Your space has undergone a transformation in the last few hours. The dining table that was perfectly laid out and spotless earlier is now adorned with the fresh memory of people that mean something to you.
The various shapes of the bottles (you had to bring out more wine!) form a silhouette resembling a city skyline – you’d have to squint just a bit to see it. A closer look reveals that each wine glass has taken on the personality of its temporary owner.
One has a dark brown lipstick stain on the rim and some leftover Merlot – that’s your best friend’s glass.
Another has exactly half a sip of Sauvignon Blanc with visible traces of Merlot from a previous pour – a colleague who can’t decide which grape they like more.
A flute glass is nearly empty but has drying drops of Spumante spilled around it on the table – a sticky and sweet reminder of an old friend who loves a good sparkling white, and often forgets when to stop.
You think about them all. They’ve all left and it’s past midnight. But the night hasn’t ended yet. The music continues playing and now your only audience is you.
The undoing of a ritual is a ritual in itself.
You replay the night in your head as you hum along with your playlist while clearing the table. You take your time turning the night into something quieter.
Done. Your house looks like a clean slate again. It’s time to tell your body to wind down for the night, so you pour yourself a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon. Your playlist continues on, now the auditory centrepiece.
Minus 8’s “Bossa Nova Feeling” plays – an old favourite of yours. Eyes closed. Glass empty. Fresh linen sheets. Bliss. This part of the night is completely yours. And you know how to take your time.