By a friend of the vine
Long before wine was poured into crystal glasses or clinked in celebration, it was a gift from the land—a humble, fermented offering that united ancient communities.
Archaeologists have reportedly found traces of winemaking dating back more than 8,000 years in Georgia, where people pressed grapes with their bare hands, let nature take its course, and shared the resulting magic in clay jars.
Since then, wine has flowed through human history like a river—across the Mediterranean, through the hills of Tuscany, into family cellars and festive tables across the world.
Wine, at its core, is more than a drink.
It is a bridge between land and spirit, between the grower and the glass, between generations.
In every bottle, there is soil, weather, sweat, patience, and passion.
There is something deeply grounding about how vines wrap themselves around a patch of earth, how they carry its story in every berry.
Wine reflects where it comes from, and in the hands of good people, it reflects who we are at our best—joyful, generous, grounded.
Australia’s love affair with wine took root in the early 19th century, but it wasn’t until the 1960s and 70s that it truly blossomed into a national passion.
What began as a niche pursuit by European migrants, particularly Italians and Greeks, soon became a mainstream movement.
By the 1990s, Australian wines had gained international acclaim, and wine culture became a household norm.
From backyard BBQs to gourmet dinners, wine joined the rhythm of Australian life, blending perfectly with our love of the land, good food, and great conversation.
Growing up around Italians, particularly Calabrians like Don Totino—I’ve always known wine not as a vice, but as a virtue.
At the Totino Estate in Paracombe, Don carries the legacy of his family with grace and purpose.
His roots run deep, both in Italy and in the rich South Australian soil where his vineyard flourishes.
Wine, to him, is not just business.
It’s a way of honouring the old country, of carrying forward stories and traditions of those who worked the land before us—fathers, uncles, nonni—who gathered at long wooden tables with carafes of homemade red, laughing over, pane, polpette and pasta, telling stories as the sun dipped behind the hills.
I’ve seen how wine brings people together.
Around the table, we toast to life, we open up, we share.
Festa after festa, the clinking of glasses “Cin, Cin” is like a drumbeat for human connection.
In this way, wine is a kind of spiritual ritual, about reverence.
Respectful drinking, as the Calabrians have always known, is about joy and moderation, about singing a little louder, dancing a little freer, loving a little more.
Wine takes us back to the earth and lifts us into celebration.
That’s the truth Don Totino lives every day.
And that’s what makes wine eternal.