IN DEFENSE OF ANONYMOUS BISTRO WINE Written and photographed by Vicki Denig
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Paris is undoubtedly one of the best places in the world to drink wine, especially if the bottles you’re after are French. From legendary establishments with Biblelike lists to jewel box natural wine bars with just a few seats, drinking through the city’s top wine bars is a lifetime endeavor—yet despite the “insanely priced” Burgundy and accessible back-vintage Bordeaux, I still find myself reaching for anonymous wine. The nameless. The mysterious. The unidentifiable. Whatever you want to call them, my heart still yearns for them, even after 10+ years of tasting the best that the industry has to offer (perhaps more so than ever, in retrospect). In an age where popping bottles feels more like a show than an enjoyable experience (thanks, Instagram), I find myself craving a taste of the past; enter anonymous bistro wine, a place where a piece of my heart lives forever. Every bistro in Paris has some sort of a wine section—this is France, after all. However, contrary to the sought-after producers and esoteric cuvée names that flood greater and more grandiose lists, bistro wine generally sells itself by region and region alone. For whites, you’ll almost always find something from the Loire Valley (Touraine, Saumur, Pouilly-Fumé) and Bourgogne, plus a pour or two from the Languedoc (IGP Pays d’Oc) or Southwest (Côtes de Gascogne). Similarly, the red section often highlights Bordeaux, Beaujolais, and the Loire Valley, with Côtes du Rhône and Burgundy also usually present—and let’s not forget rosé. There’s always, at minimum, one or two rosés. At its best, bistro wine is drinkable. I don’t think I’ve ever had a glass that left any lasting impression on me, but who the hell cares? Bistro wine serves a purpose. Sure, getting drunk could be one of them (and for most people, it is), but for me, it’s a reminder of simplicity and an opportunity to be present. While pondering and poring over exquisite bottles is certainly justified, basic bistro wine offers a moment of presence. In shifting my focus from what’s in the glass to what’s outside of it, I find myself experiencing so much more: the warmth of afternoon sunlight hitting my hands and cheeks, the smell of a piping hot steak frites being served at the table next to me, the sound of mundane French conversations and bizarrely pitched Parisian ambulances (I’ll never get over that noise). Plenty of wine pros out there will scoff at the idea, saying the same could be done with a hot cup of coffee or bubbly Perrier, but the meaning is so much deeper. Anonymous bistro wine reminds me that not every wine-drinking experience has to be so serious, that there’s still joy to be found in sipping a completely mediocre glass of rosé beneath the Parisian sun. Zero performance, zero bottle shot — just me and my surroundings in one of the world’s greatest cities. Everyone who loves wine started their journey somewhere. For me, it was on the streets of Paris, bistro wine in hand. It was 2014, and I was 23, fresh off my first “job,” an eight-month gig at Sud de France Manhattan that introduced me to the wine world. Hooked and craving more, I spent that summer in Paris tasting whatever I could afford—which at the time, wasn’t much. I had zero reference for what was “cool,” and honestly, thank God. Bistro wine satisfied a gateway curiosity that led me down an unavoidable rabbit hole —one that led me to inevitably outgrow those said simplistic offerings, for the most part. While not a daily occurrence, I still partake in an anonymous glass here and there, letting that first sip whisk me down memory lane and catapult me back to the present for a moment of meditative sipping. It’ll never be a life-changing pour, but it’ll always be a life-affirming one. sl
Vicki Denig is a wine / travel journalist based between New York and Paris. Her work regularly appears in various industry publications, including Decanter, Food & Wine, and WineSearcher. In addition to journalism, Vicki also works with a handful of wine-focused clients, including Paris Wine Company, High Road Wine & Spirits, and more. When not writing, she enjoys running, indoor cycling classes, petting dogs, and popping bottles on her rooftop with friends.
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