[Wine Bits and Sips] The Charm of Wine

I share a series of Wine Bits and Sips, written by Junghyun. We invite you to start your wine journey right here, with us as your friendly guide, Junghyun.

for the original Korean version

Winery of Chateauneuf du Paoe

Before we dive into wine cellars, ratings, and the age-old debate whether an expensive bottle is truly worth its price, let me tell you why I got into wine in the first place.

The beauty of wine, I think, is this: without packing a bag or going anywhere, you can sit still and travel the world through all five senses. That’s the charm, and sometimes, honestly, it can also be the headache. Choosing a wine can feel like a multiple-choice question with answer options that spill onto the next page. You can’t always get it right. But that’s exactly why the moment you stumble upon something extraordinary feels so electrifying. One unexpected sip can make your eyes go wide in wonder. When a wine truly delights you, even the long hunting for that perfect bottle becomes a kind of play. The risk is, of course, that if you fail too many times in a row, the motivation to keep trying quietly fades away. Along with it, you lose the chance of ever finding that one wine that brings you genuine happiness. This is why, rather than picking at random, it helps to improve your odds a little bit.

That’s what this series is about.

The usual advice is to begin your journey by finding a grape variety you enjoy.

Build a framework, something to anchor your choices so they’re easier to remember. In the New World, many wines are crafted from a single, well-known variety, which makes comparisons much easier. Mid-range American wines in particular tend to express their grape variety in a direct, straightforward way. Trying different bottles from the same producer, such as Long Barn or Textbook, across different varieties is a great way to map out your preferences. Textbook is best known for its reds and produces across a wide range, including Cabernet Sauvignon, Chardonnay, and Sauvignon Blanc, with Pinot Noir being a more recent addition to their lineup. Each grape brings its own skin thickness, natural sugars, and character, and you’ll taste these differences in the glass as distinct wine’s texture, tannins, acidity, and finishes. Once you discover a variety you love, you can begin expanding your horizons by seeking out the same grape from different countries. However, keep in mind that this is only one of many ways to explore the world of wine. 

Wine, they say, is a joint creation of the grape, the terroir, and the winemaker’s human hand. In France, it’s traditional not to list the grape variety on the label. Bordeaux-style blends are common, and the French tend to feel that variety alone doesn’t determine the wine’s soul. They see little reason to highlight it as the primary feature. During a Bordeaux winery tour years ago, where most of the guests were American. The winemaker poured a glass of deep, dark red wine and challenged us to guess the grape. Most guessed Cabernet Sauvignon or Syrah. The answer? 100% Merlot. These graphs came from vines nearly a hundred years old, rooted in the dry, stony soil of a hillside. While we were in Saint-Émilion on the Right Bank, an area where Merlot is the dominant variety and typically blended with small amounts of Cabernet Franc and Cabernet Sauvignon, that tasting was a revelation. It was the exact moment the concept of terroir finally clicked for me, instantly and completely.

I came to wine with a strong conviction that France was its spiritual home of wine, so I started there, tasting my way across the regions one glass at a time. Unlike the New World, France places terroir at the center of everything. I fell for the rich, brooding tannins of Bordeaux reds: that dark tropical fruit, the weight, and a seductive, perfume-like quality that lingers like a single drop of fragrance. A wine with real complexity doesn’t just speak to your palate. It speaks to your imagination. I’d find myself picturing an elegant woman in a field of wildflowers or something bold, dynamic, almost physical. That’s Bordeaux red to me.

Chataeuneuf du pape bottle

Then came Châteauneuf-du-Pape (CDP), often called the Pope’s wine, hailing from the southern Rhône valley. During the Avignon Papacy, Pope John XXII built a summer residence and a winery north of Avignon, giving the region its name, which translates to the “new castle of the Pope.” While history suggests that the wines of the Rhône still required refinement at the time, leading the Pope to reportedly ship in Burgundy until local quality improved. One of the most striking features of these bottles is the embossed papal coat of arms, featuring the tiara over the keys of Saint Peter, which sets them apart from everything else on the shelf. CDP is a blend led by Grenache, Syrah, and Mourvèdre (GSM), along with other permitted varieties [the list has been revised from 13 down to 9 permitted varieties], which gives it a characteristic complexity. As a wine built for long aging, it possesses both power and elegance that never disappoints. Rich and full-bodied, yet more reasonably priced than Bordeaux or Burgundy, so it’s become my trusted bottle. It is a wine that feels particularly right from late autumn through the Christmas season, offering a warmth from the inside out. The only catch: it’s not exactly an everyday-priced bottle. Though when you see the vineyard, where every grape is hand-harvested and farmed organically, the price starts to feel entirely fair.

One afternoon at Lotte department store wine event, a staff recommendation led me to a Southern French Syrah

Most people associate Syrah with Australia, but it originated in France’s south. Phylloxera (a kind of aphid) devastated the vineyards of the region in the 19th century, and the Syrah planted today is technically a reimported variety; however, something about this land remains unchanged. The combination of limestone and gravel soils, paired with the fierce Mistral wind, gives Southern French Syrah a character entirely unlike its Australian counterpart. I drank a 2012 vintage in 2023 and was struck by the kind of balance and depth that only a well-aged, high-quality wine can offer. That specific wine is no longer imported, but whenever I spot a Syrah from the neighboring Roussillon region, it goes straight into my basket. Roussillon was long known for cheap table wine, but with talented winemakers moving in, the quality has surged, and you now find genuinely excellent value there.

When dining out, I often ask for a wine pairing recommendation, a habit that sometimes leads me to bottles I’d never have chosen for myself.

This is exactly what happened at a wine bar near my home. I typically did not reach for American wines, and when it comes to whites, I rarely stray beyond French Chardonnay, but this was wonderful, offering a rich, almost oily texture and ripe orange fruit, complemented by a touch of oak and just a whisper of mineral on the finish. It was quite simply delicious. Curious to see whether I could find a similar experience elsewhere, I tracked down a South African Chardonnay in the $20 range. South Africa occupies somewhere between the Old World and the New with a wine history that is much longer than most people realize. The Dutch East India Company planted vines there as early as 1662, producing the country’s first wine by 1669. By the 1880s, South Africa had become one of England’s premier wine suppliers until politics, natural disasters, and war pushed it into obscurity for decades. It was only under the presidency of Nelson Mandela that the wine industry began to rebuild. Today, South African winemakers draw from both traditions by studying Burgundian techniques while embracing the expressive, fruit-forward styles of the New World. The result is a collection of wines with a unique identity that often provide exceptional value.

Every new variety, region, and producer weaves together terroir, intention, and craftsmanship into a story that awakens all five senses. The world of wine is truly boundless.

This is how I travel the world, right from the glass on my dinner table.

Spring Flower Hyacinth

written by Younghee Lee, Essayist

for the original Korean version

Drawn by the warm sunlight, I stepped out into the yard and gently brushed aside the fallen persimmon leaves that had piled up since last autumn. As expected, beneath the leaves, pale green shoots and light purple flower buds were pushing their way up here and there. My heart, which had been shriveled during the long winter, filled with joy. I cleared away the leaves so the plants could receive more sunlight.

After Christmas and the year-end holidays pass, there are flowers that announce the arrival of spring first in my yard. It is the purple hyacinth. A long time ago, someone gifted me a pot of this plant. After enjoying its blooms, I planted the bulb under the persimmon tree. Since then, it has multiplied year after year, producing more flowers each spring. Like orchids, hyacinths grow green leaves on both sides, with a flower stalk rising from the center. Dozens of small blossoms cluster neatly along the stem, forming a single beautiful flower. Every morning, new stalks emerge, creating a feast of purple blooms, which is truly a breathtaking sight.

Looking up the meaning of the flower, I found that the hyacinth symbolizes “eternal love.” In Greek mythology, both Apollo, the sun god, and Zephyrus, the god of the west wind, fell in love with a young boy named Hyacinthus. The boy was exceptionally handsome, athletic, and even brave on the battlefield. Ultimately, Apollo and Hyacinthus became lovers.

One day, the two held a competition in a field to see who could throw a discus further. As Apollo caught a discus brilliantly thrown by Hyacinthus and hurled it high back toward him, Zephyrus – watching the scene in a fit of jealousy – blew a gust of wind. The wind caused the discus to strike the boy’s forehead, and he died. Clasping the boy in his arms, Apollo grieved. As he wept, he sprinkled the blood from the boy’s head onto the grass and promised to bring him back to life as a beautiful flower. Soon after, a flower bloomed from the blood-stained grass, and that flower is said to be the purple hyacinth.

Hyacinths carry different meanings depending on their color. Purple is eternal love and sorrowful love.  Red is love that lingers in the heart. Yellow is courage and win in love. Blue is the joy of love. White is peaceful love. Pink is playfulness and charm. While these expressions may seem distinct, all these meanings seem to represent the many emotions we experience when we love someone.

After the hyacinths fade, wood sorrel (Oxalis, called love plant in Korea), though never planted, spreads across the flower bed. Could it be the lingering traces of a love that didn’t fully blossom?

Then, the persimmon tree, jujube tree, and roses bloom in turn, completing the full arrival of spring in the yard. Watching this scene, I feel as though my own heart is blooming along with the flowers.

When spring arrives, flowers, grass, and trees do their absolute best to sprout and bloom. In doing so, they capture people’s attention and receive their love. They don’t even require much: a drink of water every few days and a few grains of fertilizer whenever they come to mind. Often, I don’t give them any fertilizer at all throughout the year. Still, as if keeping a promise, they bring us joy every day with a different appearance each time spring returns. Shouldn’t we also repay someone for the joy and beauty that nature gives us? Shouldn’t we, like the flowers and trees in our garden, sprout and bloom for someone else? It isn’t that difficult. It can be as simple as giving a bright greeting like a flower, yielding your spot in the checkout line at the market to someone with fewer items, not comparing yourself to others, avoiding greed, and not looking down on those around you.

Just as blooming a flower doesn’t require any extraordinary nutrients, we too can achieve this with just a little bit of effort. We are living in the age of AI (Artificial Intelligence), but I don’t believe we should live by relying solely on computers instead of people. No matter how beautifully a computer creates a flower, it is not a “real” flower. No matter how well an AI robot is made, how could it ever be the same as a human? Even the most wicked person has tears, don’t they?

There are times when we must not simply rush forward. If there is a terrifying cliff ahead and you keep running, you might fall and meet with disaster. Looking at a world where AI dominates every field, I am reminded of the 18th-century French Enlightenment thinker Jean-Jacques Rousseau. He argued that the excessive development of civilization, science, and art makes humans dangerous, corrupts them, and causes inequality. This is a theory worth reflecting on once again. For seniors like us, who must gradually slow down, the arrival of an era driven by artificial intelligence feels somewhat worrying.

I believe Rousseau’s famous words, Return to Nature,” serve as a warning to us. It is a cry to recover the inherent purity, autonomy, and moral intuition of humanity. I fear that “evil robots” might emerge and harm mankind. We humans have a duty to protect this Earth. God gave us this “Garden of Eden” called Earth in the vast universe. Just as every flower has its own unique characteristics, we humans must also exercise our individuality and traits to create a beautiful paradise.

기둥, 차강석 씀 | Radish written by Cha, KangSeok

기둥

2026/3/19 차강석 씀

서걱서걱한 무를
한 입 배어 물었다
그러나 기대한 것과는 달리

무 속에는 기둥이 있었다

그 기둥은 자라
딱딱하고 굳건한
암처럼 온 무를 점령했다

그 무를 섭취한
인간들은 뇌까지 경직돼
다양한 사고를 멈추고 썩어 간다


Radish

I took a bite

of the crisp, crunching radish
But unlike what I had expected,
inside it

there was a pillar.

That pillar grew,

hard and unyielding, like a cancer

until it overtook
the entire radish.

Those who consumed it

felt even their minds stiffen,

their thoughts grinding to a halt,

slowly decaying.

고드름, 차강석 씀 | Icicles written by Cha, KangSeok

고드름

2026/01/22 차강석 씀

4층 아파트 베란다 밑에서
위태롭게 고드름이 자라고 있다

고드름은 바닥에 닿기 위해
물방울을 최선을 다해 모아 얼음을 만든다

만든 얼음으로 자신의 몸을 키워
바닥에 차츰차츰 가까워지고 있다

눈에 보이지 않지만
계속 자라서 시나브로 바닥에 닿을 것이다

인간들은 고드름의 자람이 위험하다고
고드름의 꿈과 아이들의 낭만을 무참히 꺾어 버린다


Icicles

High on an apartment balcony,

icicles hang, growing precariously.

To touch the ground,

they gather every falling drop,

freezing each into its fragile length.

With the ice they make, they stretch their body,

edging closer and closer to the earth.

Unseen to the eye,

they keep growing

and little by little,

They will reach the ground.

But humans call their growth dangerous

and, without mercy,

snap off the icicles’ dream

and children’s winter wonder.

시간 | Time

시간

2025/10/29 김수영 씀

 할 일이
 많아도  

 할 일이
 적어도

   보내는
 시간은 같다

   정작 무엇이
 바람직한것인지는
 알 수 없다!!

 

Time

 

Whether there’s a lot to do
or very little to do,

   we spent the same time.

  I don’t really know
what the ideal situation is!
Little or much to do.

인생, 차강석 씀 | Life by Cha, KangSeok

인생

2026/01/16 차강석 씀

창 밖에는
눈이 마구잡이로
내린다

종교를 갖기에는
내 정신이
너무 맑은 것 같다

가족을 갖고 싶지만,
너무 늦어 버렸다

오랜 친구들도 없어서
가슴앓이를 얘기할
지인도 없다

여생을 함께 할 사람이 없어
혹독한 삶이 될 것이다

언젠가는 지워질 눈밭에
발자국을 새기며 걸어가야겠다


Life

Beyond the window

snow falls

without mercy

To take up religion,

my mind is

too clear

I want a family,

but the time

has passed

I have no old friends

to speak my quiet grief to

With no one

to share what remains,

life will be a severe road

However, I will walk,

leaving my footprints behind
on a field of snow,

that will someday be erased.

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