The phrase “skin contact” initially had no correlation with wine or matters of a sensual nature when it first crossed my path. Rather, it was tightly intertwined with the concept of flourishing, resilience, and vitality.
During the early days of my parenthood journey, I found myself introduced to the concept of “kangaroo care” through the dedicated efforts of the remarkable nurses attending to my twin boys, born prematurely and weighing under four pounds each. This nurturing approach involved holding a diaper-clad infant against one’s bare chest, promoting skin-to-skin contact for prolonged periods. The purpose was to facilitate the exchange of warmth, touch, and compassion with these delicate beings. The absence of such intimate connection, I learned, could result in a clinical diagnosis labeled as the “failure to thrive” – a stark reminder that human touch, akin to sunlight for a plant, is indispensable for optimal growth.
Failure to thrive – an outcome inescapably linked to the lack of skin contact.
Yet, in its presence, it becomes an actual lifesaver.
This truth isn’t confined to only the very young or the elderly; it resonates for all of us in every stage of life. An embrace between lovers, particularly when one is grappling with despondency or agitation, can be profoundly transformative. As skin meets skin, tenderly and organically, a serenity envelops you. Breathing naturally syncs, and a profound tranquility emerges. While it can indeed evolve into an intimate encounter, the significance lies in its capacity to invigorate existence regardless of the direction it takes.
The reminiscence of my experience with “kangaroo care” has taken on new dimensions within the scope of this column. This week, as we delve into the realm of skin contact wines, I’m reminded of the parallels. Matthew, leading our exploration of these wines, approaches the subject with an extensive reservoir of knowledge and exposure, having tasted countless iterations of “skin contact” wines – often recognized as orange wines, amber wines, or macerated wines. These labels underscore their unique production technique, involving the crushing of grapes followed by a determined period of skin contact.
For me, my viewpoint on “skin contact” is undoubtedly influenced by my role as a parent. Yet, here is where Matthew and I find common ground: the realm of skin contact in the context of wine is exceptional. It carries an intentional distinctiveness. It elevates sensory experiences to new pinnacles. Textures and aromas are magnified, often exuding musky and saline notes, buttressed by a resolute acidic core.
