I grew up in church, and while religion isn't really my thing these days, I'll never fall out of love with the idea of communion, the coming together for the breaking of bread, and the remembrance of past sacrifices. Growing up on the edge of the Delta, my childhood church's attendance barely scratched 60 on Easter, but it was the smaller, quieter Sunday communions that I liked the most. We'd go, pew-by-pew, to kneel at the altar. The pastor would pass out thimble-size cups of Welch's grape juice — my love of wine began at a very young age, symbolically, at least — and his wife would follow with a broken loaf of bread, allowing each of us to pick our own portion of the body of Christ.
I was brought back to those quiet mornings at the altar a few weeks ago when my backyard played host to a very different kind of communion: twenty-something thirty-somethings and sixty pounds of crawfish. There was wine, of course. Bottles of Broadbent Vinho Verde ($9), the low-alcohol Portuguese wine that might be confused for a spritzy lemon water, and Teutonic Wine Co.'s jasmine and honeysuckle-scented dry muscat ($18). As either a joke or a commandment, the winery suggests mixing it 50/50 with a Pabst Blue Ribbon ($10 for a 12 pack) — talk about secularizing a sacrament — I can testify that the result is divine, so wrong and so perfectly right for a warm spring day.
If anything, it's these moments of communion that I've missed most during the pandemic, these simple moments of coming together over food and wine. I realize how privileged I am, waxing about missing dinners and debauchery during a global health crisis. My friends and family are fully vaccinated, and I ended the year without the loss of a loved one. I know many around our state can't say the same. But now that we can gather again, what sacrament do we take to honor the empty seats at our tables — the glasses that go undrunk?
There isn't one perfect answer, but I know the one that works for me. I hope that when you're able to enjoy that first moment of post-covid communion, be it around a quiet table or on a patio piled high with ruby-bodied mudbugs, that you savor every minute. The food, the wine, the company; savor them for the moments you lost and those who lost everything.
We've all gone far too long without these most necessary pleasures in our life. I hope that if we have learned anything over the past year, it's the importance of relishing in the simple joys of our earthly bodies, the euphoria of sustenance: the gentle crack of a crawdad, the tiny sighs of Champagne bubbles, the anthemic sounds of Beyonce's 2019 live album "Homecoming" on a cloudless afternoon. After all the pain last year delivered, the solace we seek will be found in the body and blood — in whatever form they take — at our own private communions.
As always, you can see what I'm drinking on Instagram at @sethebarlow and send your wine questions and quibbles to [email protected]