What am I missing?

Terroir: It’s my word of the day. I’ll forgive it for being French. It means “how something conjures up the landscape.”

The word applies to such things as fine cheeses, wines, etc.

When I open up the little jar of Hungarian paprika that I keep in my fridge, I experience that sensation, I remember the hot summer sun beating down upon me in that gorgeous place, the bustle of Budapest and the stillness of its vast, pastoral countryside.

I can indulge this sense like any foodie in the realms of cheese, chocolate, heirloom vegetables and hot sauce. But there is one world that I have never entered, and that sometimes I wonder about: the land of libations.

My family has a history of alcoholism. So we don’t drink. On the plus side, I don’t have to worry about DUIs or doing stupid things that I will regret in the morning. But still – I have lived all my years without any idea what champagne tastes like and without the “terroir” of an English ale, a French merlot, a Southern mint julep or even a sip of Tennessee whiskey.

And sometimes I wonder. I spent such a happy time in Hungary but never sampled its legendary bikaver (bull’s blood) wine or the herbed bitter Unikum, the Magyar national drink. I did see plenty of people who did indulge a little much – and it wasn’t a pretty sight.

Closer to home, mead – honey wine – is making a comeback, according to an article I read recently. Hmm. Guess I’ll miss that fad.