How I Fell Back in Love with Wine

I was genuinely starting to get worn out, burnt out, thanks to all the typical, affordable Napa Cabernet I taste; trying to keep up with trends means knowing what people are buying. And let’s be honest: people buy a lot of affordable Cabernet.

The problem? A lot of it tastes the same.

There’s only so much that can be done at that price point. Jam, oak, and predictability. When you taste the same profile on repeat, even wines you used to love start to wear you down.

I never thought I’d get tired of these wines.
But I was.

I’d pour another $25 Cab, sniff, sip, and think: Yup. Same again.
Then the frustration would creep up:

Why can’t people try something new? Aren’t they tired of the same bottle? No, it doesn’t pair with fish. Yes, I know you’re going to buy it anyway. Would a white wine really kill you?

I knew I was losing perspective.

And then I got COVID.
For the third time.

The Break I Didn’t Ask For

This time, it wrecked my nose. I couldn’t smell. I couldn’t taste.

I would hold a glass to my nose and get nothing. Not muted. Not faint. Just blank.
I’d sip and feel the alcohol, maybe some texture, but no fruit and no spice.

Suddenly, panic set in.

What would I do with myself?
I’d spent years—and so much money—learning this thing I loved. How could I lose it?

How could I never taste that beautiful, glorious Napa Cab again?
Not the $25 stuff, but the real stuff. The O’Shaughnessy’s and the 2015 HALL bottles I’d greedily stashed away in my wine fridge, hiding them from everyone else but me.

And the vintage Champagnes, the ones I’d collected for a special occasion that suddenly felt like it might never come for me.

Relearning the World

It was months before I started to smell and taste again and when it returned, it came back differently.

I could smell cumin, but not cinnamon.
The aroma of coriander seeds and cardamom pods gently came out of the jar, but fresh ginger garlic paste? Nothing.

I tore through my spice cabinet like a woman possessed, trying to understand.
It made no sense. Nothing was linear. Nothing was predictable.

The First Glass Back

Weeks after the spice phase, I poured a glass of Cabernet.

I was certain it would show up. Cabernet is bold—too bold to hide from anyone.
Surely, I’d be able to smell this.

I couldn't smell it.
I couldn't taste it.
Only burning, sour alcohol.

I stared at the glass and wondered:

What would I do now?
My life was built around wine and here I was, blind to it.

The Shift

A few weeks later, I opened a flight of Pinots.
And something clicked.

They were delicate. Cool. Quiet.
I had always appreciated good Pinot, but not like this.

Like that sweet, gentle lift of cardamom, Pinot still made sense to me.
Cabernet, the cinnamon of the wine world, was still missing.

But Pinot showed up. Pinot whispered.

And I listened.

But eventually—thankfully—my sense of smell and taste returned in full.
I could finally enjoy Cabernet again. My first true wine love.

Coming Back Different

I still don’t drink much Cabernet these days, but I drink it.
Only the good ones, though.

I’ll leave the mass-market stuff to the mass-market for the time being.

Falling back in love with wine doesn’t mean going back to where you started.
It means returning with new boundaries, a deeper appreciation, and a lot more grace.