My name is Bethany Joy and I love wine. I’m not rich and I’m not fifty years old; I just love wine. Red, white, pink, bubbly– I don’t discriminate. It’s a love story that’s been in the works since before I even knew what wine was.
I come from a big, Italian family where wine isn’t something posh that rich people drink at fancy parties.

Wine is my grandpa sitting in his wife-beater and slacks, gold-chain around his neck, relaxing after a day’s work. Wine is my grandma who spent hours in the kitchen preparing a feast of homemade lasagna and Italian sausage that pairs perfectly with a glass of something red and full-bodied. Wine is my mother giggling after having just one glass with dinner. It’s my sister making sangria in the summer with white peaches and raspberries, my brother celebrating the birth of his first son.

You see, wine is a celebration of all sorts, really: of history, of food, of family.
I present these posts as an invitation to get in on the party.



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