Something Old, Something New: Curating Wine for the Sacred Institution of Book Club

Ah, book club. The place where women gather to speak their minds freely, let their imaginations run wild, and maybe shed a few tears.

We say we gather for literature, and sometimes we do. My own group has traversed everything from When Breath Becomes Air to The Martian to The Secret History. It's an exercise in adventure: trying something new and being open-minded. Frankly, if left to my own devices, I wouldn’t read anything.

Lately, though, we’ve unlocked a whole new literary genre: racy, heart-stopping, fantasy-thriller page-turners—think Fourth Wing, ACOTAR, or Red City. Books that scratch an itch you didn’t know you had and leave you breathless and a little wrecked.

But here's what I've come to appreciate about book club: the book is just the beginning. We might start by debating a character's choices, only to find ourselves talking about our own. The conversation wanders from fictional ambitions to the real ones we've pursued, the lives we've built, the compromises we've made, and the things we're still hoping for.

Eventually, the conversation reaches the things that make up a life: children growing, careers taking unexpected turns, relationships deepening and sometimes unraveling, and the things that keep us awake at night changing along with them. These are the things that can feel too ordinary to bring up, too personal to volunteer, and too consequential to keep to ourselves.

Book club becomes a place where these things are witnessed. There's something powerful about a gathering that repeats itself. Life changes between meetings. Yet the group gathers again, and someone remembers what you said last time. Someone asks how it turned out. It’s a reminder that none of us has to navigate the whole business of life alone.

In a world full of fleeting moments and complex commitments, friendships can become some of the most solid, stable, and deeply rewarding relationships in our lives.  They are where we show up completely as ourselves. This bond deserves a well thought-out wine menu to pair with in sickness and in health—not just an emergency case of Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc, which, let’s face it, is the liquid equivalent of reading an appliance manual.

Here is how to curate a four-bottle lineup for the real lifelong commitment: your friends. These may seem like small decisions, but the thought we put into hosting is one way we show the people around our table that they matter.

Bottle No. 1: Something New

As you wait for everyone to arrive, open something a little unexpected—and perhaps a little sweet and bubbly. 

Your friends are arriving from near and far, bursting with updates and dying to debrief. In the chaos of the first twenty minutes, nobody is swirling and analyzing a complex vintage. The first glass signals the fun times are about to begin. A slightly sweet, sparkling, unfamiliar wine makes the opening feel celebratory and gives everyone something to discover together. This is a moment about pure refreshment and delight. 

Think of this as your wine cocktail hour: playful, expressive, and easy-drinking.  Since these wines have a touch or more of sweetness they can operate as a stand-alone beverage or pair with salty appetizers. It gets the room warm, the laughter flowing, and curiosity piqued.

• What to pour: Playful sparkling wines like a chilled Brachetto d’Acqui, Moscato d’Asti, or Lambrusco; or an off-dry Bugey Cerdon. If you want full-on festive, build a classic Kir Royale, Bellini, or try a Pink Port Cocktail.

Bottle No. 2: Something Old

Once everyone's grabbed a bite to eat and settled in, it's time for something familiar.

This is where the core book discussion happens—and where food meets wine in earnest. Skip the mass-produced swill; these women deserve better. You want a high-quality, reliable old favorite with enough character to reward attention, but enough elegance not to hijack the debate. This wine isn't necessarily the safest or most obvious choice. It's something you know well enough to appreciate without having to think too hard about it. It can accompany a meal and a conversation without requiring anyone's full attention.

It’s comforting and consistent—much like the women sitting around your living room.

• What to pour: A soulful Pinot Noir, a pristine Chardonnay, a vibrant Pinot Grigio, or a reliable Cabernet Sauvignon; think of what resonates with your group.

Bottle No. 3: Something Borrowed

No, you aren't borrowing wine. But if you're hosting, chances are someone will show up with a bottle or two as a gift.

Opening a bottle brought by a friend is an easy act of love. It creates a moment to celebrate their generosity, and sparks lively debate. Does their favorite pairing complement yours? Did they bring back a hidden gem from a recent trip? Let the person who brought the wine choose their moment to open it and tell its story. Don't worry about whether it matches the menu perfectly or whether everyone agrees it's wonderful. 

It opens up a nice connection to the book club itself: everyone arrives with a different perspective, and the unexpected bottle might become the evening's discovery. 

• What to pour: Whatever your guest brought! Let them take center stage for a moment and explain why they chose it.

Bottle No. 4: Something Blue

"Blue" isn’t about the color of the wine—it’s about space for raw honesty– the important, sometimes melancholy revelations.

Because if you’ve been in a good book club long enough, you know it eventually transcends book club. A plot line triggers a real-life memory; a casual question turns into an unexpected confession. Someone drops their guard, tears might fall, and suddenly you’re holding space for the things that rarely see the light of day.

There's a particular kind of relief in being able to tell a story without having to make yourself the hero of it. To admit that you're frightened, that you're struggling, that you don't know what to do next. To say something out loud that you've barely been able to acknowledge to yourself.

A good friend doesn't necessarily have an answer. Sometimes they ask a question. Sometimes they’ve been there too. Sometimes they simply listen. The gift is that you don't have to turn your pain into a lesson or your uncertainty into a plan before you're allowed to share it.

That's what makes these gatherings feel sacred to me. Not that every conversation is profound, or that everyone always knows what to say, but that there's room for the whole, untidy truth of a life.

Romance may come with expectations, but book club offers a different kind of shelter. For these moments, choose a wine that can support the emotional weight of the conversation without trivializing it. It won't soften every blow or solve every problem, but it can offer its own small pleasure—a reminder that even on difficult days, something can still be delicious.

• What to pour: For these moments, choose a wine with enough depth and complexity to stand on its own, something that reveals itself slowly rather than giving everything away in the first sip. You want a wine that can hold your attention for a moment, then allow it to wander back to the conversation.  For a sparkling wine, consider a vintage Champagne: layered, contemplative, and capable of making an ordinary evening feel significant. If white wine is more your style, a Grüner Veltliner Smaragd offers concentration, texture, and complexity that unfold with time in the glass. For red lovers, an old-vine Spanish Garnacha can offer expressive fruit, savory depth, and a warm, spicy character that unfolds with each sip.

Maybe that's the real trick to hosting a good book club. You make room for the unexpected, offer the comfort of what's familiar, welcome what other people bring, and leave space for whatever the evening turns into.

No vows, no anniversary gifts, no grand declarations. Just a recurring date on the calendar, a token book, a few bottles chosen with care, and a group of people who keep showing up for one another.

Because at the end of the night, the most unforgettable part of book club is rarely what happened in the book. It's what happened around the table.