Drinks and Drinking

What could be more dull than the idea of a symposium? The word conjures up associations with dusty dons, tedious academic papers on deservedly obscure facts and theories. In universities these days, what used to be called ‘symposia’ are often called ‘workshops’ – perhaps in a feeble attempt to make the symposium sound more exciting. If this is your view of the symposium, you may be surprised to learn that the original ancient Greek symposium was a drinking party: the word (...) derives from the Greek for ‘drinking together’. A Greek symposium was a ritualised and often debauched affair. The master of the symposium would begin by drinking a small ‘libation’ of undiluted wine – the Greeks normally mixed their wine with water – and he would then decide in what proportion the wine was to be diluted to determine what kind of evening it was going to be. Plato’s Symposium, a dialogue on the nature of love, describes the most famous symposium of all. The great philosopher Socrates dominates the discussion (as he normally did), drinks more than anyone else, and leaves the symposium sober in the early morning, with the inferior thinkers and drinkers comatose. (shrink)

The history of wine-drinking is a history of excess. From Noah’s disastrous first experiments and the bacchanalia of the ancient Greeks to the spectacular overindulgence described in the diaries of Evelyn Waugh, the consumption of wine to excess has been a recurrent theme among those drink and those who write about it. Sometimes the quantities consumed by the drinkers of the past are staggering. According to Roy Porter’s English Society in the Eighteenth Century, ‘to gain a reputation as a blade (...) one had to be at least a three-bottle man. Sheridan, Pitt the Younger, and the Greek scholar Porson were all said to be six-bottle men’. One cannot help wondering whether they meant the same by ‘bottle’ as we do... (shrink)

This book represents the first full-length study of the aesthetics of the appreciation of wine. It introduces and argues for the validity and significance of several new concepts: competency, project, and aesthetic practices. Using these concepts -- together with analyses borrowed from cognitive science, sensory science, Husserlian phenomenology and hermeneutics -- the case is made that wine can be a proper and indeed significant object of aesthetic attention. The implications of this are pursued in three ways: First, within the culture (...) of wine, with a sustained treatment of important concepts such as terroir; second, within philosophical aesthetics. The latter results in a position termed 'contextual aesthetics' that sees aesthetic acts as always situated within cultural practices, and given meaning thereby. The third implication is for the cultural and aesthetic value accorded to the various senses, and the kinds of underlying issues that might have led to, and might now lead away from, these values. (shrink)

Of all the things we eat or drink, wine is without question the most complex. So it should not be surprising that philosophers have turned their attention to wine: complex phenomena can lend themselves to philosophical speculation. Wine is complex not just in the variety of tastes it presents – ‘wine tastes of everything apart from grapes’, I once heard an expert say – but in its meaning...

Art is one thing, the aesthetic another. Things can be appreciated aesthetically – for instance, in terms of the traditional category of the beautiful – without being works of art. A landscape can be appreciated as beautiful; so can a man or a woman. Appreciation of such natural objects in terms of their beauty certainly counts as aesthetic appreciation, if anything does. This is not simply because landscapes and people are not artefacts; for there are also artefacts which are assessable (...) aesthetically without being works of art (e.g. an elegant car or a mathematical proof)... (shrink)

What could be more dull than the idea of a symposium? The word conjures up associations with dusty dons, tedious academic papers on deservedly obscure facts and theories. In universities these days, what used to be called ‘symposia’ are often called ‘workshops’ – perhaps in a feeble attempt to make the symposium sound more exciting. If this is your view of the symposium, you may be surprised to learn that the original ancient Greek symposium was a drinking party: the word (...) derives from the Greek for ‘drinking together’. A Greek symposium was a ritualised and often debauched affair. The master of the symposium would begin by drinking a small ‘libation’ of undiluted wine – the Greeks normally mixed their wine with water – and he would then decide in what proportion the wine was to be diluted to determine what kind of evening it was going to be. Plato’s Symposium, a dialogue on the nature of love, describes the most famous symposium of all. The great philosopher Socrates dominates the discussion (as he normally did), drinks more than anyone else, and leaves the symposium sober in the early morning, with the inferior thinkers and drinkers comatose. (shrink)

The history of wine-drinking is a history of excess. From Noah’s disastrous first experiments and the bacchanalia of the ancient Greeks to the spectacular overindulgence described in the diaries of Evelyn Waugh, the consumption of wine to excess has been a recurrent theme among those drink and those who write about it. Sometimes the quantities consumed by the drinkers of the past are staggering. According to Roy Porter’s English Society in the Eighteenth Century, ‘to gain a reputation as a blade (...) one had to be at least a three-bottle man. Sheridan, Pitt the Younger, and the Greek scholar Porson were all said to be six-bottle men’. One cannot help wondering whether they meant the same by ‘bottle’ as we do... (shrink)

This good-humoured book offers an antidote to the pretentious clap-trap that is written about wine today and a profound apology for the drink on which..

In his article “Category Independent Aesthetic Experience: The Case of Wine” in this journal, David Sackris presents arguments against Kendall Walton’s view in the famous article “Categories of Art.”David Sackris, “Category Independent Aesthetic Experience: The Case of Wine,” The Journal of Value Inquiry, 47 (2013), pp. 111–120; Kendall Walton, “Categories of Art,” in Steven M. Cahn and Aaron Meskin (Eds) Aesthetics: A Comprehensive Anthology. (Oxford: Blackwell, 2007), pp. 521–537. [First published in The Philosophical Review, 79 (1970), pp. 334–367.] He claims, (...) with support in an argument about the immediate qualities of great wines, that for some kinds of aesthetic appreciation specific category knowledge is not necessary. We welcome the idea that wine appreciation is an aesthetic practice, and more importantly the view that the features of wine appreciation might shed light on, or even transform our understanding of aesthetic experience more generally. The article also draws welcom .. (shrink)

Is the taste of a wine in our minds or in the glass? Can knowledge make a difference to the pleasure a wine gives us? Do the elaborate descriptions of wines in terms of fruits or spices, their "suppleness" or "brawniness," really mean anything? Questions of Taste is the first book to examine the philosophical issues surrounding our experience and enjoyment of wine. Featuring lucid essays from philosophers, a linguist, a biochemist, a wine producer and a wine critic, these leading (...) thinkers use their critical and analytical skills to address these controversial issues. (shrink)

ABSTRACT: Amongst inanimate objects, it is generally accepted that at least some art forms, such as music and painting, are capable of being genuinely expressive of emotion, even though it is difficult to understand exactly how. In contrast, although expressive properties can be attributed to non-artworks, such as natural objects or wine, it has often been claimed that such objects cannot be genuinely expressive. Focussing on wine, I argue that once we understand properly the nature of expressiveness, if we allow (...) that music can be expressive there is no good reason to withold the ability to be genuinely expressive from wine. (shrink)

Does this Bonnes-Mares really have notes of chocolate, truffle, violets, and merde de cheval? Can wines really be feminine, profound, pretentious, or cheeky? Can they express emotion or terroir? Do the judgements of 'experts' have any objective validity? Is a great wine a work of art? Questions like these will have been entertained by anyone who has ever puzzled over the tasting notes of a wine writer, or been baffled by the response of a sommelier to an innocent question. Only (...) recently, however, have they received the serious philosophical attention they deserve. Touching on issues in metaphysics, epistemology, the philosophy of mind, and aesthetics, this book provides a clear and engaging discussion of the philosophical significance of wine that will be accessible to all wine lovers, specialists and non-specialists alike. The author offers throughout a sustained defence of the objectivity of wine judgements, a demystification of the nature of expertise, and a theory of the aesthetic value of wine and its appreciation. (shrink)

What could be more dull than the idea of a symposium? The word conjures up associations with dusty dons, tedious academic papers on deservedly obscure facts and theories. In universities these days, what used to be called ‘symposia’ are often called ‘workshops’ – perhaps in a feeble attempt to make the symposium sound more exciting. If this is your view of the symposium, you may be surprised to learn that the original ancient Greek symposium was a drinking party: the word (...) derives from the Greek for ‘drinking together’. A Greek symposium was a ritualised and often debauched affair. The master of the symposium would begin by drinking a small ‘libation’ of undiluted wine – the Greeks normally mixed their wine with water – and he would then decide in what proportion the wine was to be diluted to determine what kind of evening it was going to be. Plato’s Symposium, a dialogue on the nature of love, describes the most famous symposium of all. The great philosopher Socrates dominates the discussion (as he normally did), drinks more than anyone else, and leaves the symposium sober in the early morning, with the inferior thinkers and drinkers comatose. (shrink)

The sense of taste falls low on the hierarchy of the senses because it seems a poor conduit for knowledge of the external world; it directs attention inward rather than outward; its pleasures are sensuous and bodily, prone to overindulgence that distracts from higher human endeavours; and its objects are at best merely pleasant, not of the highest aesthetic value. Such is the traditional assessment; now let us analyse its justice.

The importance of food in our individual lives raises moral questions from the debate over eating animals to the prominence of gourmet cookery in the popular media. Through philosophy, Elizabeth Telfer discusses issues including our obligations to those who are starving; the value of the pleasure of food; food as art; our duties to animals; and the moral virtues of hospitableness and temperance. Elizabeth Telfer shows how much traditional philosophy, from Plato to John Stuart Mill, has to say to illuminate (...) this everyday yet complex subject. (shrink)