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‘Since the Greeks adopted it from the Phoenicians, the alphabet has been used to write verses and to speak about wine’, says Pau Sabaté, a translator from ancient Greek in the foreword to the book Ara beu i enamora’t. Poesia breu grega de simposi (‘Now Drink and Fall in Love: Short Greek Symposium Poetry’), published by Vibop edicions in 2026. Language has been linked to wine and to poetry from the dawn of civilisation, reminding us that wine is an essential part of the classical world, the cradle of Mediterranean culture. It goes back more than three and a half thousand years, during which thousands of hectares of vineyards have shaped the Catalan landscape.
At the turn of the nineteenth to the twentieth century, Phylloxera transformed this landscape by killing almost all the vines. In many regions and villages, vine growing was abandoned and replaced with other crops. In others, however, a solution was found: American rootstock was grafted with local varieties, which allowed viticulture to be rebuilt. At that time, wine was both drink and food.
Vineyards and wine still have an important place in Catalonia today, though industrial estates and housing developments have eliminated much of the cultivation since the 1970s. Even so, vineyards have survived as part of the agroforestry mosaic in many territories. But wine is no longer an everyday drink, often imbibed from a porró. The trend is increasingly towards drinking less wine and reserving it for special occasions, which may directly affect the wine-growing landscape.
At a time when wine is no longer considered food, when it is seldom found on the table every day and at every meal, it is worth remembering and reaffirming that it is a millennia-old drink that produces culture, a symbolic element in the arts, part of our Mediterranean diet and something that has historically formed part of our social and collective life and still does so today. It also shapes a cultural, natural and distinctive landscape in every region of Catalonia.
At the end of the twentieth century, the oenologist was the most important part of the winemaking process and winegrowers looked inward to the cellar. Technique prevailed. In the last ten years, however, the wine sector has been more aware than ever that wine begins in the vineyard, that it shapes the landscape and that the trend is towards organic, regenerative and biodynamic agriculture. These are farming methods that protect health and nature because they avoid pesticides and chemical treatments, working with the understanding that soils must be full of life. It is also a time for bringing back old varieties that were in danger of disappearing.
Today, wine is once again drawing closer to nature. This is no coincidence, as the climate emergency presents a major challenge. On the one hand, three consecutive years of drought have put winegrowers on alert, prompting them to study and experiment with new pruning techniques, for example. On the other hand, vineyards are also being managed as effective firebreaks, strategically placed between forests and urban areas. At the same time, however, a surplus of wine caused by declining consumption is leading to serious talk of uprooting vines. And all this is happening at a time when wine tourism is becoming a major attraction.
In La vida bona. Teologia de la vinya i el vi (‘The Good Life: A Theology of the Vineyard and Wine’), published by Vibop edicions in 2026, the Latinist and natural wine specialist Joan Gómez Pallarès reflects on the bond between nature, vineyards and wine, drawing on a wide range of intellectual references. He leaves us with a question: ‘Can we imagine that a vineyard, and the vision of the person who tends it, might be transformed into something we discover, smell and taste in a glass of wine?’
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