Thirty-six millions in Britain drink regularly, according to a recent survey.
Hmm, that means there are about two London’s worth that don’t, allowing rather arbitrarily for the under sixteens. For those who like the numbers, that’s fifteen million adults that are not regularly drinkers: apart from a few recovering alcoholics, I think I know only a couple of them. And my children said much the same thing. So where are they all? Closeted in odd places like Kendal or Norwich or Truro? Nope, I’ve been to all three, and the pubs do a roaring trade. Glasgow? You must be joking! One of that couple of near abstainers I mentioned decided to end speculation and ordered a glass of white wine recently. A group of well meaning friends tried to stop her as they had always interpreted her reluctance for anything stronger than Perrier as meaning she must be an alcoholics anonymous member! You’ll be glad to know that the friends were finally persuaded that she just did not drink a lot and said glass of white was allowed to find its proper home.
Lebanon is different. Not drinking is an active pursuit, indeed I’ve been to three weddings where, forewarned, I had to smuggle in a couple of hip flasks as the strongest beverage on offer was mulberry juice, which, I have to say, makes a splendid accompaniment to Vodka. Mind you, those hip flasks meant that I was very popular, at least until the social lubricants ran dry.
Yet, this is a country famous for its wine. The Bekaa valley, setting of so many odd activities by novelists who’ve probably never been to the place, is home to thousands of vines and has been famous for its viniculture since Biblical times. Château Musar has the UK as its biggest export market, and if you haven’t tried it, have a look in Waitrose or a specialist wine merchant. I will be taken to task, quite rightly, if I don’t point out others, so here are those from Lebanon’s thirty or so wineries and châteaux that I have often drunk, Kefraya, Ksara, and Massaya, who make very good tipples in the usual red, white and rosé varieties.
And then there is arak. Arak is a Middle Eastern drink, similar to pastis (like Ricard, Pernod and Absinthe) and it goes very nicely, thank you, with the local mezza and Mediterranean fish, Sea Bass, Swordfish, Mullet and King Prawns for example. But don’t plan anything terribly serious for the rest of the afternoon.
Let’s go back to cultural attitudes. It is a well known fact that a glass or two of red wine a day is good for just about everything and everyone. Lowers cholesterol, improves blood quality, makes sleep easy yet restores a man exhausted, in general prolongs life and hey, it tastes pretty good and improves food – “a meal without wine is like a day without sun-shine” (Jean-Antheleme Brillat-Savarin). But I think we Northern Europeans are better designed to absorb alcoholic beverages than some other ethnic groups. Why? Once again, I have a theory, well an untested hypothesis actually. Here’s how my ideas run.
Northern Europe was the first to experience, suffer, undergo or whatever verb you fancy, the Industrial Revolution. That had as a consequence, mass migration to towns and cities with subsequent overcrowding and difficult living conditions. Cholera, typhoid, dysentery and other nasties were rife and, although our forebears didn’t know it, water borne. But if you tipped a fair amount of strong liquor in the water, those bacterial nightmares were killed. Hence the best way to survive the adverse consequences of the industrial revolution was to reverse the usual advice of “take plenty of water with it” and make it “take plenty of alcohol with your water”. Obviously if you could hold your liquor, you were less prone to accidents with heavy machinery, note that the elfin safety mob did not exist in those days. As late as the sixties, Sheffield steel workers were entitled to six pints of beer per shift, that’s twelve units for heaven’s sake and that was before repairing to the pub on the way home! So those who could not take or did not like the booze were weeded out by Darwin’s natural selection process with a bit of help from typhoid and such like.
Which still leaves the question, where are those fifteen million non-drinkers? Well, I recently asked a friend how much he got through in a day. “Not much really, not now I’m retired” he said, “maybe a couple of glasses of wine at lunch, a beer in the afternoon, a whiskey with my wife when she comes home, maybe a bottle of red between us at dinner and I’ll probably have a brandy as a night-cap”.
It’s becoming clearer where those non-drinkers are, they just got surveyed before the pubs opened!
Hmm, that means there are about two London’s worth that don’t, allowing rather arbitrarily for the under sixteens. For those who like the numbers, that’s fifteen million adults that are not regularly drinkers: apart from a few recovering alcoholics, I think I know only a couple of them. And my children said much the same thing. So where are they all? Closeted in odd places like Kendal or Norwich or Truro? Nope, I’ve been to all three, and the pubs do a roaring trade. Glasgow? You must be joking! One of that couple of near abstainers I mentioned decided to end speculation and ordered a glass of white wine recently. A group of well meaning friends tried to stop her as they had always interpreted her reluctance for anything stronger than Perrier as meaning she must be an alcoholics anonymous member! You’ll be glad to know that the friends were finally persuaded that she just did not drink a lot and said glass of white was allowed to find its proper home.
Lebanon is different. Not drinking is an active pursuit, indeed I’ve been to three weddings where, forewarned, I had to smuggle in a couple of hip flasks as the strongest beverage on offer was mulberry juice, which, I have to say, makes a splendid accompaniment to Vodka. Mind you, those hip flasks meant that I was very popular, at least until the social lubricants ran dry.
Yet, this is a country famous for its wine. The Bekaa valley, setting of so many odd activities by novelists who’ve probably never been to the place, is home to thousands of vines and has been famous for its viniculture since Biblical times. Château Musar has the UK as its biggest export market, and if you haven’t tried it, have a look in Waitrose or a specialist wine merchant. I will be taken to task, quite rightly, if I don’t point out others, so here are those from Lebanon’s thirty or so wineries and châteaux that I have often drunk, Kefraya, Ksara, and Massaya, who make very good tipples in the usual red, white and rosé varieties.
And then there is arak. Arak is a Middle Eastern drink, similar to pastis (like Ricard, Pernod and Absinthe) and it goes very nicely, thank you, with the local mezza and Mediterranean fish, Sea Bass, Swordfish, Mullet and King Prawns for example. But don’t plan anything terribly serious for the rest of the afternoon.
Let’s go back to cultural attitudes. It is a well known fact that a glass or two of red wine a day is good for just about everything and everyone. Lowers cholesterol, improves blood quality, makes sleep easy yet restores a man exhausted, in general prolongs life and hey, it tastes pretty good and improves food – “a meal without wine is like a day without sun-shine” (Jean-Antheleme Brillat-Savarin). But I think we Northern Europeans are better designed to absorb alcoholic beverages than some other ethnic groups. Why? Once again, I have a theory, well an untested hypothesis actually. Here’s how my ideas run.
Northern Europe was the first to experience, suffer, undergo or whatever verb you fancy, the Industrial Revolution. That had as a consequence, mass migration to towns and cities with subsequent overcrowding and difficult living conditions. Cholera, typhoid, dysentery and other nasties were rife and, although our forebears didn’t know it, water borne. But if you tipped a fair amount of strong liquor in the water, those bacterial nightmares were killed. Hence the best way to survive the adverse consequences of the industrial revolution was to reverse the usual advice of “take plenty of water with it” and make it “take plenty of alcohol with your water”. Obviously if you could hold your liquor, you were less prone to accidents with heavy machinery, note that the elfin safety mob did not exist in those days. As late as the sixties, Sheffield steel workers were entitled to six pints of beer per shift, that’s twelve units for heaven’s sake and that was before repairing to the pub on the way home! So those who could not take or did not like the booze were weeded out by Darwin’s natural selection process with a bit of help from typhoid and such like.
Which still leaves the question, where are those fifteen million non-drinkers? Well, I recently asked a friend how much he got through in a day. “Not much really, not now I’m retired” he said, “maybe a couple of glasses of wine at lunch, a beer in the afternoon, a whiskey with my wife when she comes home, maybe a bottle of red between us at dinner and I’ll probably have a brandy as a night-cap”.
It’s becoming clearer where those non-drinkers are, they just got surveyed before the pubs opened!
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