WINE and WAR (2020) - full transcript

Serge, I'd like to just take
you back to the beginning,

- to the beginning of the-
- Ah!

You should remember one thing.

I want you to
speak slowly, clearly

in order to allow my
brain to get the real sense

of what you are
intending to get from me.

- Okay.
- Got it?

- Got it.
- Okay, good.

Serge, when you
remember your childhood.

Yeah, I told you, you
have to speak loudly

because I don't hear



but I want you to speak
slowly and loudly on purpose.

I am pushing you, I'm
squeezing you, I'm cornering you

you know why?

Because by cornering you, I
can abuse your brain my way.

Okay? Okay.

What do you think shaped you

in your formative years?

You know,

your character is
shaped every day

by any thing which
happens to you.

When I was seven,

I asked my parents, "Why"

did you give me birth
without my permission?

"You did not ask me to come."



They answered, "Serge, we
did not know it would be you."

So this is how I discovered
that I was forced to live

against my will and this has
been going on for 75 years.

Wine does not care
about war or no war,

because yeast makes the wine
even if people are fighting.

What is older, the
wine or humanity?

Because the fruit was there,

the juice was there.

If the juice should
leak on the ground,

it will ferment and
it will become wine.

So wine made
itself before humans.

When humanity started
understanding wine

instead of being nomads, where
they would take their sheep

and they would have their wheat

and they would
move to another place,

wine forced them to settle.

This is why we
started civilization.

For us, today, this
is a major discovery

because this is the
first built wine press

and the first built treading
floor that we know of.

It's a winery, it's a winery.

I'm impressed not by
that they were making wine

but by the quality of the vat.

- Exactly, exactly.
- Unbelievable, unbelievable.

What is also
interesting is that

in the two shipwrecks
that they found

off the shore of Ashkelon.

- Yes, yes, yes.
- Some years ago.

They found them, they
were filled with amphorae

of the 7th century BC.

They contained wine

and the amphorae were
Phoenician amphorae

and they presumed that
they were taking wine

from here to Egypt
and they were shipwrecked.

This just means
that they have reached

a certain technique
and a certain...

a sophisticated wine
making technique.

Here we have
for the first time

- a huge platform.
- A big vat.

- This is work.
- This is work.

This is industry.

Yeah, so this is quite...

- Impressive.
- Yeah.

This is a
magnificent piece of art

and this is clear evidence
that they had the know how.

The product that is
made from this vat

is extremely important for us.

What they had as resources
and what we have now

they still had many
things in advance.

We still need to uncover,

to investigate archeological
sites in Lebanon

because there has
been hardly any regular

scientific archeological
work since

the beginning of the
Lebanese War in 1975.

Now during the war
because of its location,

in front of the sea this
was a very nice area.

When we came we
saw that there have been

several trenches,
man made trenches

by militias, by people who
were trying to loot the site

and all they hit were
earth and pebbles.

So they abandoned
the site and this is how

the site was preserved
for us to come

and start regular excavations.

Ever since I started, my first
excavation was in Lebanon...

we have been under
the gun, as it were.

Our site was located
south of Sidon

where there was a
major Palestinian camp,

so we were about
five kilometers away.

You might think,
"Oh, well, you know

this is going to
be beautiful", right?

The sun's coming up, it was
a beautiful Mediterranean day

every day, though, we would
have an attack by F-15 jets,

from the Israeli Air Force
base, called Ramat David.

Well, the place we had lived
in, in Israel was Ramat David.

That was-It's right next
to the main air force base

and every night when we
lived there the previous year,

we would hear the jets
taking off to hit Lebanon,

and the Palestinian
camp and then now

here I was on the
other side of the border

watching dogfights up in the sky

and planes even coming down and

you could see the bombs dropping
down on the Palestinian camp

and just huge explosions
and then they would shoot out

over the Mediterranean
and be gone.

And then you hear
the ambulances.

Well, what was so sad, really

was that the ambulances
would get into the camp

maybe 20 minutes, 25
minutes after the attack

and they were pulling out
the bodies, which you'd see

in the front page of the
Beirut paper the next day.

This was never reported
in the West, by the way

and then as the ambulances
were pulling the injured out,

the F-15s would
make a second strike.

So they were coming out
just when the ambulances

were taking the injured
away, and that always

really affected
me, but the most...

awful experience I suppose
I had was my wife was up

in Turkey the whole time,
living in a Turkish village

and she came down on
the day of the largest attack

that I'd ever seen.

Well, she didn't know
what to do, so she ran out

onto the ancient pier
that runs out to the castle

there in Sidon, and she
was alongside Palestinians

with machine guns as the
planes came shooting over

at about 20 feet above her head,

so she could look eye to
eye into the eyes of an Israeli

pilot as they came in,
and then the Palestinian

had his machine gun out,
trying to knock down this plane

that's going pretty fast.

Despite these attacks I
described in the south,

it's an absolutely amazing site.

So it was a sad thing
when the civil war came.

There's a lot left to
learn about Lebanon

as I have already mentioned
because of the civil war

and the problems associated
with working in Lebanon

as an archeologist,

relatively few excavations
have been carried out

in the last 20 or 30 years.

I had great affection
for Lebanon because

they're entrepreneurial,
certainly,

competitive, but also...

a wonderful place to be because

the people are
extremely friendly

and, they have such good food.

All the surrounding
countries, we have

multiple excavations
going on, but nothing quite

as extraordinary, I don't
think as the Lebanese coast.

There has always been war, right

in the Middle East,
especially in Lebanon

which is at the
crossroads of so much.

This is just a continuation of
what's been going on forever

and they've been
producing wine there forever.

When humans first
came out of Africa

about a million years ago

the first place they
would have seen

the grape is Lebanon.

They would have been fascinated
by vines growing all the way up

the tall cedar of Lebanon trees.

They would see the grapes

climbing their
way right to the sky

you know, almost to heaven

and they must've been
absolutely amazed at this fruit

but this grape happens
to be ideal for making wine

because once you squash
the grape and get the juice out

you've got the perfect
medium for the yeast

that are living on the
outside of this high sugar fruit

to get active and make wine.

So it wouldn't have been
hard for the early humans,

our ancestors
coming out of Africa

to figure out how to make wine.

And I think this was
a very large motivator

to humans having
year round settlements

and once you've got
year round settlements,

then you're gonna
get increasingly more

complex societies developing.

So I see that this fermented
beverage is really contributing

greatly to the rise of
permanent cultures

in settlements that then lead on

into more advanced civilization.

Around 3000 BC,
when we get our first

literary records
of the Canaanites,

and when we really
see that the Canaanites,

who are based in
the Levant in Lebanon,

are very active in wine making.

The Canaanite merchants
could be real entrepreneurs.

I mean, they could
come in and show off

their wares and
entice the local rulers

with this new beverage

and they're the
first wine merchants.

By the time we get
down to the Egyptians

of around 3100 BC, we have
wine being imported into Egypt

from the Canaanite territories.

And the Canaanites were
experts in wine making already,

so it was quite logical
to import the wine at first

and so the king, one
of the first kings of Egypt

Scorpion I, he brought in
700 very large amphorae

or jars of wine and in
fact, the amphora itself

was invented by the Canaanites

and it's often called
the Canaanite jar.

Wine is a poetic
product, you could say

it has all the different
flavors and aromas

that you associate with memories

and it opens up your
mind to other possibilities

it's a mind-altering
substance, so...

A lot of what we are as humans

is trying to take our minds

and wrap it around
all the mysteries

that exist in the universe.

The Canaanite wine
was "drunk day and night"

the "fine wine of
the Canaanites",

and especially the gods
were very involved in this,

so they often overindulged a bit
and so we have textual evidence

that sometimes they went
home, rather sick, you could say

and we have very vivid
accounts of their drunkenness.

Drunkenness is a
way to make contact

with the gods and
with the ancestors.

Coming back to a place
that has gone through war

was a real experience.

Every weekend we
would go to Beirut,

have parties on the rooftops

and the people
were very friendly.

So I think of the Lebanese
today as very much

like the Lebanese of antiquity.

It carries on, I think, a lot
of the traditions

that have been there
for many millennia.

If Lebanon wasn't in
a constant state of war

we might be able to get
a lot more information

about these early periods.

The site of Baalbek was
set up by Antoninus Pius,

who came from Carthage.

Even though he's a Roman
emperor, he had his roots

in the Phoenician
colony of Carthage

so he probably would have
worshipped Bacchus too.

The temple to Bacchus is

probably one of
the best preserved

classical buildings
anywhere and it has beautiful

grapevine motifs and some poppy

or opium type motifs.

Bacchus was the god of wine.

During the survey, in the
western part of Baalbek

we find a lot of wine
presses but we didn't find

a lot of material
for exportation

which means wine
was used by locals.

Because we didn't find the
amphora jars for exportation.

But in fact, we know that
according to some mythology,

according to some legends
that it was very special,

this party in Baalbek.

Wine is part of the ceremony.

The first commercial
wine came from Lebanon.

This is where the
Romans put their god,

where they get the best results

and that's what would happen

they put Bacchus in the Bekaa,
it's not me who is saying it

it's the great Roman
Empire, who did make wine all

over the world, the Old World,

and they chose to put Bacchus
in the temple of Baalbek.

The great civilizations
that say, this is the region

where you can plant grapes,

this is the Bordeaux
of the Old World.

The Romans liked to take their
gods into the furthest corner

of their empire and
the Bekaa Valley

was an agricultural area

in which the cult of Bacchus

that revolved around
the seasonal cycle

of planting and
harvesting and resurrection

was very powerful.

People in this period,
the Pagan Period,

they believed more about
the power of wine and gods.

When we heard the first
time about Daesh and ISIS

and the problem
and what they did,

the aggressivity behind
something like Palmyra.

I'm afraid because they
can do the same here.

I think we are lucky.

The first thing you will
understand in the Bacchus temple

that it was a temple
for weed, wine and sex

and that was happening
2,000 years ago.

The beautiful terroir of Baalbek
is at 1,000 meters altitude,

where we decided to plant

Grenache Noir and Grenache Blanc

just in front of cannabis.

I think it's still too far for
Lebanon to take that decision

in legalizing the weed because
I was called by this region

to advise them in
order to plant grapes

instead of cannabis.

People decided to try some
crops other than the cannabis

because cannabis was always
a risky crop in that area.

If I wasn't from
the Bekaa Valley

and if I wasn't
with these genes,

if I call them genes of the war,

I would never accept to do
such a project in that area

in Baalbek, which is known
for its dangerous reputation.

And with a bit of luck,
because we are lucky people

although we are in the
middle of a war zone,

we are lucky people to
have this beautiful nature

that gives us so much
potential in growing vines,

producing wines
and telling the story.

Lebanon has been
a country of refuge

than a country of population.

Lebanon's population has
been constituted by refugees

since the inception of Lebanon.

We are a combination of
population from the whole world,

from the whole religions

I usually tell, okay, in the
States you are a melting pot

but you are the
last melting pot.

In Lebanon, we are the
first melting pot of humanity,

and this is why in Lebanon,
even with the situation we have

we are accepting the millions
of Syrians coming to Lebanon.

So this is why to say,
Lebanon is not a country

it's the country of
the whole world.

Dad would say,
"Look at the ruby color

isn't that beautiful?"

The situation in Lebanon
today is very hard,

with a...

next war situation,
or call it whatever,

but I don't look at it that way.

My only conviction
is to my family.

My father was a general
in the Lebanese Army

and I looked up at him
like my hero, my hero.

At the age of 11, he
put a gun in my hands

and he said, "It's gonna..."

send you back a little but you
try to stay as firm as you can

and you shoot in the middle.

It's like if you are
shooting somebody

"between the eyes, you got it?"

I said, "Yes, Dad,
I'm gonna do my best."

I enjoyed it actually.

It's a terrible thing to
tell a child of 11 to do that

but he meant it.

To have his daughters be strong

and up to any situation
life would bring you along.

He prepared us, actually

it has always been part
of my life, wine and war.

We are four sisters and I
was the one who liked best

to be next to him and
to enjoy making wine.

And that was a dream
of his which came true.

I loved the idea of
him starting a winery

and he didn't need
to be encouraged

he was so passionate
about everything he did

well, sad enough, he left us...

and since then I took it upon
myself to continue his heritage.

I'm very proud of
having a dad like this

and for me to
carry on his legacy

wasn't an easy thing.

I don't know whether to say
that a woman in a man's world

is an easy task, but
it was worth trying.

Today, if you were to name one

winery in the region
or in the near region

that is really having to fight

to get its wines made

it has got to be Domaine
de Bargylus in Syria.

The owners had
a wonderful vision

about making a Syrian wine

and even getting praise from
the likes of Jancis Robinson

who says Domaine
de Bargylus is arguably

the best red wine in the
Eastern Mediterranean today

and this wine is being
made in a civil war!

How does that work?

We've inherited a
region of instability.

Back in 2003, when we
decided to plant the first vines

in Syria and almost at
the same time in Lebanon.

We loved the idea that
being from Syria and Lebanon

we could actually do
wine in both countries

because let's not
forget that doing wine

and planting a vineyard
is also a statement

of implanting yourself
on a very long term.

When you plant a vine,
I think you're saying

I'm here to stay.

When the war started in
Syria, there was a moment

of questioning whether
we could be able to continue

producing there, and
what we did later on is adapt...

because the most important
thing for us was to continue

producing high quality
wine and also keeping

the people who worked
for us in the winery

because around
them everybody left.

One day we get a call
from our engineer in Syria

and he tells us that
people are fighting

just 500 meters
away from the winery.

That moment was really
putting in question everything.

We didn't know if we've
lost the whole installations

the winery, the vineyard
and also the people

who worked for us, we
had about three or four hours

where we didn't
have any contact.

Everything could have happened.

It's been at least five years

that we haven't been
going to Syria, to our winery.

We are producing
wine without going there

and it's critical to
taste the grapes

before we determine
the dates of the harvest

and what we do is we
ship by taxi the little grapes

and we taste them here
in this conference room.

And this involves a lot of
time and a lot of challenges

and we're doing wine
when all odds are against us.

So all is managed over the
phone and through contacts

and communications and
this is even more difficult.

It's almost impossible.

When we turn off
the lights, hoping

that the next day wouldn't
be worse than this one

it's relatively a good thing.

It's not normal, that
we suffer in Lebanon

of whatever happens in the area.

Why is it Lebanon?

Because we are small,
because we are more open,

because we have the sympathy

of all countries to interfere
in our internal affairs

I don't know, the
mosaic of communities

certainly is a factor.

We have a lot of
Christian communities.

Shia, Sunni, Druze

Alawites, et cetera.

Our strength is this
multitude of communities

because when it
works, it works so well.

Sometimes it doesn't work and
you know how the medias are

they always emphasize
on trouble, on problems

and they don't talk of
the beautiful aspect of life.

I would assure you that I
don't know one foreigner

regardless of his nationality,
who didn't come to Lebanon

and who didn't fall in
love with our country.

A country with such
a high civilization,

with a lot of culture,
with a lot of history,

with a wonderful climate and
our duty as wine producers,

as business people, as
people who believe in Lebanon

is to change this idea
people have about Lebanon.

We are sure one
day peace will prevail

and Lebanon will
regain its importance

in the Middle East, not
to say in the whole world.

We are an area that
has been invaded over

2,500 years by all
types of invaders

and that changed the culture.

When today we
talk about our wine,

people's first impression
is they're surprised.

"Don't you have war?"

We say, "Yeah, we had war."

But one has to be
realistic, you know?

You'd better be
careful of what you do

or where you go
or follow news...

But anything can happen,
we are living on a volcano.

We live in a part of the
world that has been invaded

and conquered and
fought over continuously

from the Crusaders
to the Mamluks

to the Ottoman
Empire, to the French,

to the Lebanese civil
war, to Israeli conflicts,

post civil war and now
we've even got ISIS

knocking on our front door.

We live in a bad neighborhood,
we live in a neighborhood

with Israel to the south,
we've now got a war-torn Syria

to our east and even
within our own society

there's a lot of conflict,
there's a lot of tension,

there's a lot of friction.

And staying with this, I think

one of the most
remarkable stories

in the history of the
Lebanese wine industry

has got to be the
story of Serge Hochar

who is arguably one of
the famous winemakers

of his generation.

Not only did he put Lebanon's
flag on the world wine map,

he made a remarkable wine.

One of the most remarkable
wines you're ever likely

to taste, be it the
red or the white.

And he had an intrinsic
understanding between wine

and humanity and in that
respect, he was a guru

I mean, Serge was a
war hero in the respect that

he was picking his grapes
under the guns of every militia

in the world: there were the
Syrians, there were the Israelis

there were the Palestinians,
There was the Baader Meinhof

there was the Japanese Red Army.

When people opened a
bottle in London or in New York

or in Tokyo, they
were uncorking conflict

there was a whiff of war
in every bottle of wine

that they opened, Serge was
a magician on so many fronts,

and Lebanon had a giant.

If you are a "fear person"

if you have fear, you
are a dead person.

My father had no clue about wine

and he started the winery.

My father wanted me to be
in the winery, I did not want.

I wanted to be a
monk in the mountains.

Yeah.

I wanted to be on my own.

Do nothing.

My father forced me and
because I was the eldest

in the family, I had to
accept the responsibility.

And when I came to the winery,

for the harvest, the
first day the truck arrived

I tasted the juice, it
was good, I did taste it.

Two days later, it
started to be sparkling,

it started to have
bubbles into it,

so I was wondering what it was.

I understood that this
was the miracle of the wine,

the miracle of life.

This is why I became
a believer in life.

Okay?

Being a believer, doesn't
mean you are religious.

When I came back from making
wine in Palestine and Israel,

I was convinced that
wine was a good substance.

We should learn about
it, love it and drink it.

If it is abused in
order to get drunk,

then it can be used for war.

But if wine is used as an
essence of nature to be happy,

it becomes a product
for peace and not war.

Since the 1960's, the
Lebanese church wanted

the Trappist monks to
become established in Lebanon.

We never responded
to their request

until the civil war started.

When I came to Lebanon,

I introduced
myself to the Patriarch Khreich

who asked me a question...

"We have been asking
you to come for a long time"

why have you just come
now in the midst of war?

You won't get out of here alive.

"Why couldn't you have
come when there was peace?"

There was something
more than shells

and destruction
that brought me here.

God asked me to
sow peace in Lebanon.

So I took action, and that's

when I decided to be a
symbol of unity in the country.

Day by day, Israeli war planes

have bombed the
Palestinian quarter of Beirut.

Visions of fear and
destruction from the heavens

a justice that seems
less than divine.

In the beginning, none of us

thought that it
would last so long.

Of course, we were
optimistic, saying that fine

it's part of the
conflicts that are part

of the political
life of this country

but no one thought that
it would come to a point

where we would be
unable to reach even

where the winery
and fields were.

The communities
amongst themselves

did not used to hate each other,
this happened out of the blue.

When the tribes that
live in the Bekaa Valley

started taking active
part in the conflict

it became, unfortunately,
a kind of ethnic

religious war and very soon

there was no more anything

which could be called a country.

It was in the mountains of Sofar

and those militias
surrounded my car.

"What are you doing here", I
said, "It's the end of the month

and I have to pay the
wages of the people."

They said, "Are you going
to think that we will believe"

that you can expose
yourself to such danger

and go to pay the
people and their wages?

"Then, obviously you are a spy."

Of course, the
sentence was death.

They entrusted me to
the care of one of them.

I had to go with him because
he had his gun in my back.

By that time we arrived
at the place where

he decided to shoot me.

I was very calm,
I don't know why.

But I was expecting the

to shoot me,

and it seems, well, my
time had not yet come.

Someone came out of the
tent, which they had there

and it happened to
be the man from whom

we had rented our house in Sofar

and he knew that I
was a friend of a certain

Kamal Jumblatt,

who was a very important
man of their community

and he said, "What
are you doing?"

This man is very important,
he's the very close friend of

Kamal Jumblatt,

"and you will
have to pay for it."

He said, "Okay,
okay, let him go."

They kept the car
but they let me go.

Once a war starts,
you must understand

that it can last for 20 years

so you have to plan, today

all the future of the winery

keeping in mind that
it will take 20 years.

This is how I understood
that Lebanon is a country

which is always

in a situation of unrest,
peace, unrest, peace

but once you have
unrest, it can last for long.

My philosophy was to look
for markets outside Lebanon

because in 1975, our sales
in Lebanon dropped by 90%.

The characteristic in the
genes of Lebanese people

has been to fight for survival

elsewhere from their country.

And I started tasting the world

and this is when I
came back to Lebanon

and I understood that Lebanon
was a little bit different

from the rest of the world.

So I decided to continue
myself making wine

until the day war will finish
and I will see what I'll do.

The horizon was
very cloudy in Lebanon.

It wasn't easy,
it was very costly.

We sat, we discussed it
together and said, "Look..."

"What are the options?"

No risk-taking

or why not play the game?
As both ourselves were of the

same character, "Why not,
let's do it." We took the risk

to do it and that's
why the story started.

In 1975, Serge and
his brother went for broke

and like the Lebanese have
done for thousands of years

they packed their bags and
they took their wares abroad,

and they went to London,

and were carrying their
wines around in suitcases

going from door to
door, trying to sell these

crazy wines from a
crazy country that no one

really knew about and
that was the gamble.

It was an appalling war

and Serge continued making wine

as if nothing had happened
and I wrote about it.

I was actually credited
with discovering the wine.

A chap came
to our stand and said

"You really must come right away

there are some wines which
I think you must, must taste."

And I'd never tasted
any wine like it before

it was so distinctive,

and it was not Bordeaux,
it was not Burgundy

it was not trying
to be anything.

The paradoxical aspect
is the contrast between

a wine of this quality, the
man and his philosophy

coming from the country
which was, unfortunately

described, as a
third world country.

Unknown.

The press coverage
wasn't so favorable

and so on, you know,
"What are you doing here

coming from Lebanon?"

Refugees, between quotes.

Refugees? We are not refugees.

We're adventurers!

We're not refugees.

In the 70's, 80's, Lebanon
was being talked about

because of war,
not anything else.

And at the time my
father traveling the world

would be an ambassador
because he would talk about

the history of the
country, about the culture

of the country, about
the wines of the country

and so it was showing
an image of Lebanon

which was something
completely different than

what people were used to
seeing on the news and on TV.

Phoenicians were traders,
they were not conquerors

they were conquering by
trade and not conquering

by weapons and arms.

We are, today,
showing our products

by touring the world,
proposing them

like Phoenicians
used to showcase them

around the Mediterranean
5,000 years ago.

One day, I was in Beirut
and the Syrians were shelling

heavily Achrafieh

so in my building, the
people went to the shelter

they called me and I said, "No,
I will not go to the shelter."

I'll stay in my room."

I went to my cellar, I
discovered the bottle of 1972.

I had a very big glass
of Baccarat, which takes

one liter and a half,
so I took my bottle of '72

decanted all of
it in this glass.

The glass was half full

and I took it to my
room, sat on my bed

and each time there was
a shell, I would take a sip.

I did not want to go out.

So this is how I discovered
that once you taste

you use one thing

you use your brain.

The ability of
your brain to taste

depends on the
conditions in which you are.

If you have shells
coming on your head

you taste but you
are affected by shells.

So this, in one way, made
that the wine was different

in the situation in which I was.

So I understood that your
interpretation of the wine

depends on your identity,
on your soul, on your body.

This is how you learn
to taste life slowly.

The last drop made
me have a tear.

At night time, my
friend called me,

"Serge, we need a
partner for our bridge play.

So, okay, could you come down?"

I told them, "Okay,
I'll come down."

So I went out of
my room and I look

all the windows of the
house were shattered.

All the windows, the only
room which was not touched

was the room where I
was spending my day.

And a neighbor of
ours, a friend of mine,

was in her room, there
was a bomb on their house.

One shrapnel went through

the ceiling and came
down directly into her heart.

One shrapnel had come into
her heart and she passed away.

So basically, so this
is how I spent this day

and the wine I was
tasting this day was a 1972.

Just to tell you something,
for me, war or no war

I don't care
because grape, yeast

does not care about war.

The thing that I always
think of about Serge

is that line of his, about how
a human being encountering

a wine that is living, which is
what he always spoke about.

As you know, that...

that in order for
something to be great,

it had to have life in it, it
didn't have to necessarily

taste good or taste bad, it
was beyond that, it was about

was this made with love,
was this made with life?

Does it still contain life,
does it inspire you to life?

All of this was about
this sense of living-ness

as opposed to being shut
down and checked out.

When you come into the presence
of somebody who has rejected

that formula and said,
"You're not the sum of your"

obligations, you're
the sum of your senses,

you're the sum of
your experiences,

you're the sum of your feelings,

you're the sum of your
interactions with other people.

Let me show you how.

"Through taste and through
the art of the senses."

Everybody told me it's
not time to start a winery.

It's not the time
to plant vineyards.

And they used to
accompany it with a sign

on their head doing...

And I never looked
after what they said.

During the war in '82, I
asked for an oenologist

and he was a French one.

He came without
thinking about it.

He was an adventurer.

In 1982, I arrived in Lebanon.

When I arrived he
told me to cut my hair

and I said, "No way..."

if you don't like
it I can leave."

But, as soon as I saw
the vines I couldn't leave.

I thought it was
impossible that grapes

like these were
growing in Lebanon.

It reminded me of the Bible

where Lebanese wine is mentioned

and when I saw the vines
I saw the direct connection.

The grapes were beautiful!

I used to blast Bob Marley
to the max while fermenting.

To this day, people
still call me "Bob".

"I will be as
the dew to Israel.

I shall grow as the lily and
throw out my roots to Lebanon.

Those who dwell under
my shadow shall revive

and grow as the vine.

"The scent shall be as
the wine of Lebanon."

In the Old Testament,
Hosea wanted to convey

Lebanon's greatness
through wine.

The country was
considered to be one of

the first wine
producers in the world.

So Lebanon's
message is to propagate

wine throughout the world.

A little bit of wine
makes the heart happy.

- Pour me some more.
- No, you've had too much.

Don't start with me.

I told the workers
at the winery to leave

but I didn't leave until the
first shells started falling.

I said, "Jesus, this
place is filled with spirits."

If one shell should hit, the
whole place will explode."

So I ran outside to hide.

There was a sky
battle with the Syrians.

And one or two
planes fell in Kefraya.

In the vineyards.

He was running and then the
passport got out of his pocket

and he was without any papers.

So I was hiding in a pipe

I was there the whole day.

When the shelling stopped,
the soldiers came to the winery.

They arrived with their tanks.

They went into the house.

They deteriorated
what they could,

then they installed their
camp here just where we are.

They knew that he was there.

They asked for him
and everybody said

"We don't know where he is."

So they thought, of course,
that he would not be far.

One of the tanks was
going back and forth.

A soldier got out
and put his flashlight

into the hole
where I was hiding,

and I said to myself, "This
is the end, I'm going to die."

I put my hands up
and surrendered.

They thought
he was a terrorist

because he had a beard.

And they took him to Tel Aviv.

I was transferred
to 6 or 7 jails.

They tied my hands and
feet and put me in a truck

and next to me
was a Syrian pilot

and part of his face was gone.

When they saw his condition
they gave him morphine

and he couldn't feel
the pain anymore.

I was smoking a cigarette
with my hands tied up

and the pilot was asking me
with his eyes for a cigarette.

I pretended that
I didn't see him.

I couldn't give him a smoke.
What would he do with it?

Finally, an officer asked
me for a phone number,

to contact someone in
France to say I was in jail.

So they tell my mom.

They told her, "Your
son is in prison in Israel."

Then they hung up.

They hung up on her.

When she heard I was
in prison she thought

that I had become a
thug and a troublemaker.

So she didn't tell
anyone about it.

There were 70 of us in prison.

I tried speaking with another
Frenchman and the others

would always shut me up because
someone was always praying.

They would all pray
constantly, one after another.

I said, "Why are you praying?"

Are you afraid of being killed?

When you had guns
none of you were praying

"but now you are afraid
for your lives, right?"

I started shouting at them

because no one
would let me talk.

We were two against seventy.

I told them, "Everyone
prays together, and that's it."

After that we could speak
whenever we wanted.

The one who jailed
us told me to "eat shit"

and now you want me to shut up?

No way! I'm not
going to take it!

So I became the
leader of the cell.

Then the French
consulate intervened

and they got him
out, back to France

and he stayed
there for just a week

and then he came back here.

I told him not to do it but
he wanted to come back.

The army stayed three
years and we used to look after

what they did every day.

If it was not pipes
which were broken

it was the vines
which were erased.

If you stay until tomorrow
I can tell you stories.

What's happening?

Ha!

Did you say something?

Pass me the 2011.

After that jail experience,
I took down my walls.

Which wine you want to taste?

All of them

When I came back to Lebanon,
there was a snowball effect

and I found myself getting
more and more sucked into

this funny little
world that was called

the Lebanese wine industry.

- I want to shock you.
- Okay, you should.

I love to shock you.

You know how old I am?

- 27!
- Okay

I'm getting younger

this is why I'm
becoming dangerous.

Good, okay, what
you want to taste now?

Let's go for the cuvée.

Let me give you an advice.

You take your glass and you
put one drop on your tongue

and you leave it on
your tongue, one drop.

And it goes into all your mouth

and nothing comes
to your stomach.

So you have the
pleasure without the effect

of drinking.

Serge, you're
too kind, thank you.

Oh.

Because this
would smell different.

It already has
smelled different.

Yeah.

You see, when you
swirl in the glass, you look

to the tears, look how
much time it takes to go down.

It stays, it stays,
it's impressive.

You know, Michael, I
have reached an age

where love is a
question of experience.

You can start loving
and then it dies.

The most important, if love

you can increase it and
make it better, higher

more approachable,
more attractive,

so this is how I behave

even with my wine.

In 1984, after
the Israeli invasion

the road from Beirut to
Damascus was closed.

The vineyards were
in the buffer zone.

You know, it was...

You have the Israeli
armies in the south

and the Syrian army in the north

and I think the vineyards
were in between.

In 1984, there was
such a war situation

not because the grapes
could not make wine

because I could not
bring them to the winery.

While I was in
Beirut, our bailiff

got in touch with
me at my office

five in the evening,
the streets were empty.

Empty because the offices were
not far from the Green Line.

He said, "Look, I'm ready."

I can send you two or three
trucks." "Are you joking?"

He said, "No."

I called Serge in
Paris on holiday

and said, "Serge, look,
I don't want you to come"

but we can start in two
days." He said, "What?"

I said, "Yes, but don't come."

He called me back, said "Okay",

I'll be there in a couple
of days." "For God's sake!"

He flew from Paris to
Cyprus, took a speed boat

and he arrived two days
later at six in the morning.

Instead of harvesting in
early September, as usual

we did harvest on
the 20th of October,

which made it an impossible

product and to bring the
grapes from the vineyards,

which are in Bekaa
Valley to Ghazir,

which is north of Beirut...

it took us five days.

From the vineyard we
had to go south Bekaa,

up to the north to Baalbek
and there we took the road

to the Cedars and from
the Cedars to Tripoli

and from Tripoli to Jounieh
and there to the winery.

Life in 1984 wasn't easy.

All the roads were
closed and bombed,

Whenever we would find
an open road we would take it.

On the way back from the
Cedars road, I hit a checkpoint.

I bribed them with cigarettes to

make the crossing
happen as usual.

But this time the
soldier was annoying

me so I threw the
cigarettes at him

and then he attacked me!

So I tackled him
and took his weapon.

His commander
saw us and ran over

I gave him his weapon and
he asked, "What happened?"

I exaggerated a
little bit and told

him the soldier had offended me,

so the commander
started beating him.

I can't believe I
wasn't beaten too.

The commander was a good guy.

He invited me for a tea!

After that he said,
"I got your back,

God be with you."

So we found another route,
we sent the grapes from Bekaa

to the south of
Lebanon, go to Sidon.

In Sidon, we took a ferry boat

and which brought
the truck to Jounieh

and from there, from Jounieh,
it went up to the winery.

But there was a storm,
so to be able to sail

it took three days more to sail

so this is what made
that the grape arrived

to the winery five days after.

So... the grapes arrived to the
winery already fermenting.

All of a sudden, Serge told me

"You got the truck from
the south, but what?"

I said, "Yes."

It wasn't planned.

Purely coincidence,
nature, God, war.

War.

This is why I say making wine

is the biggest gamble you
could think of, okay, good?

So when I'm asked, "Serge,
what do you do in life?"

I do two things.

I'm a cook and I'm a gambler.

I cook for tomorrow
not for today

but by making the
wine for the future

and bottling it, I'm a gambler.

So I'm a cook, gambler cook.

Any decision you
make on the wine,

affects the wine.

Now, although the
wine makes itself

by raising it up,
by giving it affection

by talking with it, it can
evolve, we can make it evolve.

And this is what I say:

Wine is a permanent miracle,

and you have to believe.

When I came back to Lebanon,

I was shocked by a
social phenomenon

that emerged during the war.

The war was about ethnicity.

Your identity
could get you killed.

I told my sister that I wanted
to go to our village in Kobayet.

"No way!" she said

"You have to pass by Muslim
checkpoints.

They will kill you!"

But that didn't change my mind.

Every time there
was a checkpoint

I would get out of
the car on purpose

so they would see I was a monk.

I arrived at the
village of Hermel

and still no one had killed me.

No one had laid
their hands on me.

Not even an insult.

I saw kids playing

and I asked if they could take
me to the Sheikh.

"Follow us!" they said.

All the children were
walking in front of me

and along the way
people joined the crowd.

We walked in the narrow streets

until we arrived to
the Sheikh's house.

The Skeikh was surprised
to see all the villagers

in front of his door
with me in the middle.

He asked, "How can
I help you, Father?"

I told him, "I am
here to defy you."

I came all the way from Beirut
and still no one has killed me."

"So I thought why not meet you,

the big Sheikh,
and test my fate."

"Why would I kill you?

On the contrary, you
are most welcome!"

I stood up and went towards him.

I kissed him...

on both cheeks

and hugged him

and I said, "Love will prevail."

A toast to love and humanity.

One of the most remarkable
stories in postwar Lebanon

is Chateau Bellevue in Bhamdoun.

Here we have a story of a
man who grew up in Bhamdoun,

who loved the village,

who had an intense,
emotional tie with his community

who left, he took the
traditional Lebanese route,

he left to study abroad
like thousands of Lebanese

do every year and
when he was studying

in the middle of the civil
war, there was a massacre

in his village, 500
people were murdered.

I mean, that would
be trauma anywhere

and what did he do?

He said, "I'm gonna heal the
wounds of war through wine,"

and he planted his first
vineyard in his father's hotel

that was destroyed during
the war and now he's bought

vineyards all over the town
as a symbol of resurrection.

When you plant vines,

you plant it for
your grandchild.

If you really want to uproot
people, cut their vines

and that's exactly
what's happening

around this part of the world.

500 people
perished in this place,

In this place and in many
other places, so it happened

in Christian villages, it
happened in

Muslim, Druze villages,

it happened everywhere.

To me, this was it, I never
wanted to come back...

at the time, you know.

Despite the fact that
because we felt useless

we felt powerless, we felt like

it's so much bigger than you

how can you make a change?

When I returned the first
person I wanted to help

was myself, I had hatred in me.

I had hatred against
human beings.

There were no trees, my
vineyard, my own vineyard

that I had planted
with my grandfather

was uprooted, the
olive groves were cut.

I don't have to seek
justice by myself.

Justice, we seek by planting
and beautifying things.

We continue doing that.

It's good will
that's guiding us.

The idea was, how can
we encourage people

to reattach themselves
to their own land?

The vineyards was the vehicle.

It was a vehicle that people
could relate to at some level.

One of the issues that
we had encouraging people

to come back and
live in Bhamdoun,

because everyone had
obviously made lives elsewhere -

schools, apartments,
jobs, et cetera, in Beirut

most frequently, but to
get them to come back

and really invest themselves
here, we had to somehow

encourage their
children to be interested.

It couldn't be
internet, it couldn't be

things that they're
used to doing, going out

and having places
to go with their friends.

So a few years ago, Naji
created a group of harvesters,

who were young people in
high school and in college

they didn't necessarily
know each other because

they were all from
different parts of Beirut

but their parents had
known each other.

They earned a
little bit of money

they found a commonality,

they started to care
about what happened

to their grandfathers' land.

So that's the generation
that needed to be excited.

And now they know
every corner of the valley

and they ask us,
when are we picking?

That's what we want
to create here,

is people who
believe in the future.

A future based on
total quality environment,

where we are in
communion with nature.

All the elements are here.

People have to open
their eyes and see them.

Breaking News

Dani Chamoun, his
wife and two young sons

were killed today
in their apartment

by a commando team
of five armed men.

An act that has sparked outrage

I left Lebanon to
discover the world

but Lebanon
never really left me.

On the TV, I saw the picture
of Dani, Ingrid and the boys

I grew up very
close to the family.

I knew that something
terrible had happened.

Dani fought for this land.

The same day I called
up my mom and I said,

"I'm coming back to..."

"home."

When I returned

the first matter I had to
negotiate was the land we had.

I stayed on the
rooftop of our house.

Occupiers were in it
living with their cattle.

They were nomads, Bedouins

and they realized at some
point that I meant business.

I had an AK-47 that
didn't leave me all the time

but luckily I didn't
have to use it.

I wasn't aggressive at
all but I had determination

so eventually they
decided to pack and leave

because one of us had to leave.

Once the squatters left, I
had all this land on hand

and I said, I need to
make a life out of it.

There is no stronger wine than
a wine made in a region where

there is war, because it's
the essence of rebirth and life.

Wine is not just
a mere packaging

of a bottle and a price,

it's a soul.

And the soul of life
from a region of war

is nowhere stronger
than when you are able

to make wine from this region.

It means, by essence,
this is life I'm offering you

although there is war.

Sami and Ramzi Ghosn
were children of the civil war.

They were at the forefront
of what I would call the...

the second generation of
Lebanese wine producers,

those producers that
established their wineries

after the civil war ended.

Ramzi's moment came in 2006.

When there was a brutal, a very
short but brutal war between

the Shia Lebanese political
party, Hezbollah and Israel.

And Ramzi who
had already been uprooted

from his winery once,

as a child, said,
"No, I'm not moving."

And he stayed for a
month with his vines.

Under the bombs, the shrapnel
was fizzing in the vineyard.

If ever there was a moment in
which the Lebanese winemaker,

the Lebanese
entrepreneur was defined

by resilience,

by stubbornness,

by bravery,

it was the fact that Ramzi
Ghosn lived with his vines

amid the bombing
for one month in 2006

he said, "I'm not
fucking leaving."

People who look at the
grim aspect of war only

will never get out of it.

People should look at
the positive aspect of war

and this is entrenched
deeply in the Lebanese culture.

We have to make the
best of every single day,

we have to be thankful

and to make every
day an opportunity

to learn something

and to advance

and to become stronger.

My wine-making practices

definitely changed
because of war.

There is no doubt that
my wine became for people

who want to enjoy every
single day of their lives.

I want to enjoy my
wine now, not in 10 years.

And...

2006 reaffirmed

that the Lebanese
and our culture is about

daily "dolce vita".

Summer 2006,

everything was perfect.

Ripening of the grapes
was going very well

and then a few skirmishes
happened in the south

and one day, my brother
and I were seated here

watching the news,
just to try to understand

what was going on and
all the sudden a bridge

not far from here was
hit by the Israeli Air Force.

And then it was like a movie.

As if you're not
watching a movie

but you are a
subject in the movie.

From this moment, we
started to take measures

to cope with a
longer war in a way.

I didn't imagine ourselves

being here, passive, watching.

The worst experience was the
bombing of the candy factory,

not far from here because
we lost the daughter of one

of our helpers at
the restaurant here.

Everything was destroyed.
Everything with trucks

was destroyed, drones
were destroying everything,

that seems like a truck.

They destroyed all the bridges,

so they think now the
trucks are taking the old roads

and they should be destroyed.

There was no pilot, there
was no human in the plane.

It was drone bombarding,

so nobody had the courage
to go and make the harvest

because it was very risky.

We went to Serge's
office and he told me,

"What are you going to do?"

I told him, "We
are going to pick."

He told me, "How can you do it?"

I told him, "You have your
war, let me have my war."

He said "Okay" and he
was on telephone, on air

with Radio Grape in California.

Welcome to Grape
Radio, where an enthusiasm

for wine gets personal.

And today joining us long
distance, we have Serge Hochar

thanks for joining us, Serge.

Thank you, Lebanon,
you should add Lebanon.

Lebanon is well
known right now because

it's been in all the
headlines, how close are you

to where all the action was?

So there was a
convoy coming to Bekaa

and when it arrived to
a village called Kefraya.

I don't know what happened,
they were hit by a plane.

I don't know why. There
was a convoy of 1,500 cars

and it had been prepared
with the United Nations

and it was supposed
to be a safe convoy

and finally, the hit
happened in Kefraya

which is one of the villages
where we have our vineyards.

Tarek called to tell me that

we have to pick up the grapes.

I was worried about the bombs
but the grapes were on the line.

We have to fight and
pick up the grapes.

We went to the Bekaa
Valley, we have no pickers.

This was a war zone and
everything was destroyed

bridges, roads, trucks,
so nobody was here.

Nobody thought there will
be any agricultural movement

or harvest of any kind.

Nobody thought
that would happen.

We arrived to the
village looking for help.

It was an emergency
so I rang the bell.

When villagers started gathering
around we asked for their help.

"Yes, yes, we will
do it, we will do it."

People were astonished
because there was no work to do,

there was nothing to
do and people come.

40, 50 person, ladies,
men, it was astonishing.

There is unknown
soldier behind it.

When the trucks were
loaded, we had a big flag.

We put the big flag on the
cases, so the drone can see it.

And we said, "Let's go."

Everything was set
up, I was alone in my car

he was alone in his
truck and we drove.

So he was in front, I
was backing him behind.

So if anything
happened, I would help

I would interfere, I
would do anything.

We could see the
drones above our heads.

We didn't know if we
were going to die or not.

We can see the trucks on fire

because they are
being hit by missiles,

and suddenly, boom!

I saw the smoke
coming from the truck.

I said we were hit by a
drone, so I saw the driver

opening the door and
throw himself into the ditch.

I did like him, I
opened the door

and threw myself into the ditch.

But when we just
look, we saw water

water coming from the car

we knew it was the radiator

because it was smoking,

and the water was running
down and the vapor was going up

we knew it was the radiator.

As if all your body was waiting

for something and this
feeling explode on the radiator.

Understand, you were
tense, we were tense.

Thank God, it was the radiator!

We were not wine makers,
we were wine crusaders.

Sometimes I look
at events in Lebanon

that would just
throw Western society.

The fact we don't have
electricity 24 hours a day

would send people
running into the streets

like zombies in
most Western capitals

but here we just get on with it.

We take a cable from
here, we put it there

we plug into a different
generator and we make it work.

Sure, at the beginning
it must've been a pain

but after a while you adapt.

George Sara is another
young man who immediately

understands conflict
and will not be thrown

or be fazed by conflict.

He understands that if his
wine maker has to land in Syria

because the airport
in Beirut is shut

and he has to go to the Syrian
border to pick his winemaker up

to bring him back to start
the wine making process

and the harvest as
they had to do in 2006.

That... to a Lebanese

is just what you have to do.

James, at the
time, was in Paris

or was in Bordeaux,
I think, I don't know,

he was in France on
vacation and I receive a call.

And I was in Syria
at the time because

at one point I had to leave.

At the time Syria was safe

and Lebanon was not.

So we were there and he's like

"I have to get back
because I have to harvest,"

and I'm like, "James,
but it's not possible"

because there are no roads."

He's like, "I need you to
book me a ticket to Damascus"

I need to take a car."

I'm like, "But James,
the roads are destroyed."

He's like, "I don't
care, I have to go back"

I have to harvest, otherwise,
we'll miss the year."

The war is on and we
don't know what may happen.

We were waiting, day by day
we kept informed of the events

and all I was
seeing was the date

of the harvest
was getting closer.

Usually I go and
check the grapes

to see how they are doing

and I couldn't do that!

So I reserve a ticket for James

he comes to Damascus

we get in the car, we
drive up to the borders.

This is actually
a very lucky story

a stroke of luck because
the day he arrived

was the day they
stopped the war.

As soon as I heard
that the war was over

the next morning,
which was August 15th.

I tried but
couldn't get a flight

because everything was closed.

So on the 16th, I got
a flight to Damascus

in Damascus, the
road was destroyed.

He picked me up at the airport

and dropped me off at
the border in the "free zone,"

which was destroyed
between the two countries.

He left me there
I walked through

the "free zone" with
my baggage in hand

and picked up a
taxi on the other side,

it took me to the winery,

arriving the
evening of the 16th.

Two days later, we
began harvesting

I was very relieved!

I remember it very
well, there's a huge crater

in the middle of the road and
he's there with his Samsonite

black bag carrying
it in his hand

and I stop at the
crater, I'm like,

"I'm sorry I can't go further."

Had the war lasted longer

we would have lost a great deal

of our Chardonnay and Sauvignon

mostly the whites
and some Merlot

so there, it was a miracle!

The war stopped at
the perfect moment.

So this is why war
for me was a lucky thing.

War forced me to
get out of Lebanon.

War was the reason
why, instead of Lebanon

we became a global wine
all over the world, okay?

This is a good reason, so
please, thank you for war

because of war, we were
delayed in the harvesting

like in 1984, I had to harvest
due to political reasons

and not due to weather reasons.

This is why today I became,

I became myself very
addicted to old wines because

the wine, sometimes, is not
ready, which happened to me

two years ago, we had
the visit, of your friend here

whose name is Paul Grieco.

I long for
something like that,

it was never part of
my personal experience.

How cool would
it be to go there?

And then it became one
of, I can't believe I'm actually

going to Lebanon, like, I must
be out of my goddamn mind

and when I flew
into the airport.

I wasn't tension filled

when I left the
airport, it was like

oh, so buildings bombed out

shrapnel marks everywhere,
tanks on the street.

It's not part of that
usual wine country trip

scenery that you get when
you go to Mosel river valley

or Bordeaux or Tuscany,
whatever and ultimately

when I look at a bottle of wine,

it's just grape juice with
alcohol, that is what it is,

and it is everything
surrounding the bottle of wine

religion, history, philosophy

culture, civilization,
movement of mankind

blah, blah, blah...

that pulls me into this.

And Paul Grieco told me,
"Serge,

I want to taste the '84."

I told him, "Paul,
it's not wine."

I said "Look..."

It's probably evolving,
it's probably become a port

"but it's not wine,"

and then I opened the bottle,
he tasted it and said, "Serge."

I will list this wine if
you ship it to the US."

It was like, holy shit, what
roller coaster

ride is this thing on?

And it wasn't-most wine
follows a beautiful arc.

At least that's what I've
read and been taught

and all of those things.

Serge's wine never
followed a goddamn arc

from beginning to middle to end.

It began, and then it went
down, and then it came back up

and it went down, it was like
all over the goddamn place

which made every
interaction with it

a thrill ride, again tension, at
times, you never knew which you

were going to get
and then you hear

"Well, we're not
bottling it, we never

wanted to, we never will."

It's like, excuse me?

Serge was an ultimate
character to me because

of the relentless
stubborn passion

with which he lived his life.

You know, there are people who
talk a lot of smack about living

a passionate life and showing
up and being in the moment

and experiencing every
instant and wasting nothing

and following their curiosity
and then there are people

who do it and the difference
between people who speak

about it and people
who actually do it is vast

and when you find somebody
who has actually devoted

their entire life to
passionate, awake, conscious

delighted, sensory
living, they're magnetic.

I hope you do not like it.

I hope you do not like it.

He was very, very engaging

he genuinely, I
think, liked people

and wanted them
to engage with him

and loved very, very
distinctive conversations,

which could rapidly veer off.

He didn't really want
to talk about the certain

sort of things that most wine
makers want to talk about

fermentation
temperatures, different oaks

that sort of thing, he
was much more interested

in wine as social
glue, if you like

what wine could do for humanity.

I've been to Lebanon
twice, once in 1970

when it was absolutely
the jewel of the Middle East

everyone was having a
great time, very relaxed

and then again, in 1980, to
visit Chateau Musar with Serge.

I was traveling with
one other wine writer,

we had to go through,
I think, three different

really quite difficult
army checkpoints.

Serge couldn't come
and meet us at the airport.

You were very, very aware of
the fact that you were entering

not a current war
zone but one that could

return to being a war
zone at any moment.

What made you take a
trip to Lebanon in a civil war?

That's a very,
very good question.

I've always loved adventure and
loved travel and been curious

and always been on
the side of the underdog

as far as wine is concerned
and Lebanese wine

was much, much
less well known then

and I felt it needed
a bit of attention.

What I took away from
my experience with Serge

was less about the
wines in particular

and more about a way of being.

What remains in me is this one
particular thing that he said

that was one of those
sort of clues of life changing

information that somebody
gives you at an important moment

and we were sitting on his
balcony, we were drinking this

1972 wine that he had made
right after he had taken over

the winery and he was
instructing me on how to...

he said, "We're gonna sit here
all afternoon and drink this."

We're gonna
start at three o'clock and

we're not gonna be
done until nine o'clock,

this one bottle of wine.

We're gonna let it sit and then
we're gonna have a little more

and then we're gonna
talk about it and then

we're gonna have a little
more and we're gonna

talk about it, we're gonna
watch the light change

we're gonna watch
the wine change

"and we're gonna have
this experience together."

And while he was talking, I
kept trying to kind of impress

him by telling him
what the wine tasted like

and he kept saying,
"It's too soon to judge it."

Now at this point,

we're three hours in
to one bottle of wine

and he just kept holding
me back and saying,

"I don't want your
conclusions on this"

let's just talk about
what it's making you feel

"what it's reminding you of."

and I kept trying to say,
"Well, it tastes like this"

and he said, "You don't
know yet what tastes like."

It hasn't grown yet,
we need to let the wine

"be the whole bottle."

and he had this wonderful
line where he said

"Just like people"

wine is something
that you cannot judge

until you've seen it through
every season of its being.

So don't rush to a judgment
on anybody or anything until

"you've seen it through every
season of its incarnation."

And I have never forgotten
that, I cannot tell you

how many times
when I'm in conflict

with somebody in a relationship

whether it's a friend or
a relative or a neighbor

I just think we're not done
with this bottle of wine yet.

Before you start
labeling this person

or sort of putting them in a
box or deciding something

about them, just wait.

You haven't seen them
through all their seasons yet

this is just a moment
in this person's life

and you're at a moment in
your own life and tomorrow

they're gonna be completely
different and so are you

so just hold back.

That was always his thing.

Wait, not so fast, right?

Not so fast and don't judge
it, don't declare anything

just watch the story unfold

and that to me is
spiritual mastery.

His wines appealed to
people but it was he who really

gave the wine character
and how he came to die

again, was very original.

Going for a walk on the beach

never to be seen again.

Memorable.

The '84 was an
accident at infancy

born, conceived in accident.

We didn't invent the '84.

It could have not come to
the winery and there's no story.

So you see wine is a miracle

this is why I believe in wine.

This is why I'm
giving you all the

story to give you a philosophy.

What is wine?

Wine is beyond
anything you could think of.

The biggest medicine on Earth,

the biggest miracle,

wine is the link

between God and humanity.

Wine is the link.

Should I continue
or should I stop?

No, I'll stop.

Done.

We imagine that wine
is another product.

Wine is not another
product, it's another life.

And because we cannot
master and control life

we cannot pretend
that we can control wine.

It's such an
unbelievable teacher

because wine makes
people communicate

and when you communicate,
you can make peace

you don't make war.