The Vine Decline: Is This the Last Pour?

Welcome to The Kosher Terroir. I'm Simon Jacob, your host for this episode from Jerusalem. From the days when kosher wine was poured as a sweet ritual sip, to the present where luxury bottles command prestige and admiration at the table. This is a story of transformation. In this episode of The Kosher Terroir, we dive into how kosher wine broke free of its sacramental pigeonhole to stand shoulder to shoulder with the world's finest vintages. Along the way, we'll unravel the truth behind shifting drinking trends and declining wine consumption. If you're riding in your car, please pay attention to the road ahead. If you're home relaxing, please pop open a bottle of kosher wine, sit back, and enjoy this episode titled From Sacrament to Statement: The Evolution of Kosher Wine and the Rise of the Modern Drinker. There's something almost sacred about the pop of a cork, the swirl in a glass, the scent of fruit, earth, and thyme captured in a single sip. But not so long ago, especially in Jewish households, wine wasn't about notes of blackberry or tannin structure. It was about fulfilling a mitzvah. The wine was sweet, red, and usually not very good. Kosher wine was a bottle of tradition, not taste. A few years ago, I was in a shul kiddush when somebody, no joke, uncorked a 1986 Château Lafite Rothschild. Yes, at a kiddush with egg salad. I asked him if he was celebrating something. Nah, he said, it's just that good wine shouldn't have to wait for a special occasion. That moment stuck with me because kosher wine, once relegated to sticky sweet bottles nobody really wanted to drink, has now become something people share, collect, and even revere. But while kosher wine has ridden to the top shelf, the rest of the world's relationship with wine is getting a little shaky. Fast forward to today, and we're in the midst of a fascinating transformation. Kosher wines are winning international medals, headlining at Michelin-starred restaurants, and fetching prices once reserved for Bordeaux first growths. The kosher wine world has entered a new era, an era of ambition, artistry, And yes, luxury. But as kosher wine ascends in quality and reputation, something else is happening in the background. Globally, wine consumption is declining. And this is not just slightly. It's a trend that's rattling the industry. France, Italy, the United States, and the UK all seeing dips especially among younger generations. Wine, it seems, is becoming less relevant to the modern drinker. Now, some say the reason is health. After all, we've gone from the French paradox in the 1990s, where red wine was practically prescribed as a health food, to today's more sober headlines that suggest any amount of alcohol may pose risks. But if it were just about health, why are younger drinkers turning not to water or juice but to cocktails—spirits, tequila, vermouth—canned hard seltzers in wild berry flavors with 12% alcohol? Clearly, the story is a bit more complicated. In this episode of The Kosher Terroir, we're pulling back the cork on that story. We're exploring how the kosher wine industry evolved from a sacramental afterthought to collectible showpiece, and whether it can hold its relevance in a world that seems more interested in espresso martinis and mezcal negronis than in Burgundy or Bordeaux. We'll look at what's really behind the wine world's generational rift. The economics that favor cocktails, and what kosher wineries must do now to stay relevant, not just ritually but culturally. Because here's the tension: kosher wine has never been better, but the drinking habits of the next generation have never looked more different. So how do you preserve the soul of tradition while evolving with the times. That's the story we're about to tell. Ask someone what kosher wine used to taste like, and chances are they'll say two things: sweet and forgettable. For generations, kosher wine was utilitarian. It was there to fulfill halacha, not to make you pause and savor. It didn't matter what grape it was. It didn't matter if it was grown on limestone, loam, or in your neighbor's backyard. It was sweet, red, usually made from Concord or similar table grapes. And let's be honest, no one was aging it. Of course, for many families, including mine, this was the wine of Shabbat and Yom Tov. My grandfather didn't care about vintage. He cared that the wine was kosher and in his kiddush cup. But over the last 30 years, especially the last 15, we've witnessed nothing short of a transformation. Today kosher wine has entered the world of terroir. It has sommeliers, Collectors, barrel tastings. You'll find kosher wines from single vineyards in the Golan Heights, aged for 18 months in French oak. You'll find Bordeaux blends that rival their non-kosher peers in complexity and price. And suddenly the term Ravushal is being debated not just by rabbis, but by wine geeks. How did we get here? What changed? First, it starts with geography. In the 1980s and '90s, Israeli winemakers began planting vines in serious wine regions, like the Upper Galilee, the Golan, the Judean Hills, and the Negev Highlands. These areas had elevation, durnal range, ancient soils, The raw materials were there. Second, Israeli winemakers, their counterparts in the U.S., France, Italy, Chile, and beyond, started training seriously. Many studied in Bordeaux, UC Davis, or the Rhône. They brought back techniques that emphasized balance, acidity, and varietal integrity. Third, and maybe most importantly, kosher wine drinkers themselves became more sophisticated. They began demanding wines not just for kiddush, but for pairing with dry-aged steak, with duck confit, and with sushi. Wines that would impress not just the mashgiach, but the maitre d'. And there were pioneers. In California, Herzog led the charge, scaling up quality, importing French barrels, and pushing innovation with their Special Reserve series. In Israel, Victor Schoenfeld at Golan Heights Winery is often credited with bringing modern viticulture to the kosher world. His Yarden Cabernet and Syrah helped shift global perceptions. In France, Château Vallandro shocked critics by releasing a kosher Cruvée from Saint-Émilion Grand Cru. Let's not forget Jeff Morgan, the renegade behind Covenant Wines, who helped show that kosher Napa Cabernet could be just as muscular, just as elegant as any cult label out there. And then there's Ernie Weir, the founder of Agafen Cellars in Napa Valley. Ernie didn't just make quality kosher wines, he made quality mevushal wine. Ernie was among the first kosher winemakers to ask the hard question: Why should wine made for broader Jewish use be any less refined than that that we pour for ourselves. At a time when mevushal meant boiled and ruined, Ernie worked with thermal engineers to create a flash pasteurization system that would minimize aromatic loss and preserve fruit character. He dialed in temperature windows within a fraction of a degree and adjusted the wine's exposure time down to seconds. According to a Napa journalist in the early 2000s, Ernie once refused to release a white wine until the mouvemental process preserved not only its flavors but even its mouthfeel, an obsession that paid off. Hagafen Cellars became the first kosher winery to be served at the White House, starting with President Clinton, continuing through the Bush years, and again under President Obama. Notably, Hagafen's Riesling and Brut Cruvée were both chosen for White House Seders, an event that emphasized American Jewish identity in an inclusive, modern context. Ernie has said that being asked to supply wine for those Seders was one of the most quietly proud moments of his career. Victor Schoenfeld, trained at UC Davis, took over Golan Heights Winery in the 1990s and immediately instituted precision viticulture techniques that were almost unheard of in Israeli wine at the time. He introduced block-by-block vineyard tracking, canopy management, and controlled fermentation temperatures. This helped transform Yarden Wines into the first internationally recognized quality wines from Israel. Victor famously said, "Wine is made in the vineyard, not in the lab, but data helps you listen to the vineyard better." In 2004, Yarden Cabernet Sauvignon stunned critics by winning the best Cabernet at the prestigious Vinexpo competition in Paris. It marked the first time a kosher wine, not to mention an Israeli one, had taken top honors against traditional French and Napa labels. The win helped redefine what kosher wine could be on the world stage. Before founding Covenant Wines, Jeff Morgan was a jazz saxophonist touring the French Riviera. He fell in love with wine in Provence. And went on to become the West Coast editor of The Wine Spectator. But when his daughter began embracing Jewish traditions, Jeff had an epiphany. If I could drink world-class non-kosher Napa wines, why couldn't I make one that's kosher? Thus Covenant was born, with Jeff personally stomping grapes barefoot in a small garage in Napa during his first vintage. In 2003, Jeff Morgan produced his first kosher Napa Cabernet from a single ton of grapes. There was no winery, no staff, just him, a few friends, and an idea. That vintage was not only kosher but outstanding. It received critical praise, and wine lovers took notice. Today, Covenant is one of the few kosher wines regularly featured on non-kosher fine wine lists in restaurants in Manhattan, Tel Aviv, and even Tokyo. In 2003, Baron Tenneva shocked Bordeaux traditionalists by producing a kosher Cruvée. This his celebrated Château Vélandron Saint-Émilion Grand Cru. This was not a second label, not a bargain bottle. It was the same Grand Vin, the same terroir, the same attention to detail, just with mashkikhim present throughout the process. It sold out almost immediately. When asked why he did it, Tinevaux replied, "Excellence should have no barrier. If a wine is worthy, it is worthy kosher or not." The bottle helped pave the way for Château Lieuville, Château Malartic, and other Bordeaux houses to follow. These weren't just kosher wines, they were serious wines crafted by visionaries who believed that kosher and craft did not have to live separate in different worlds. Again, these weren't just kosher wines. They were serious wines, wines that could sit on the same shelf as Screaming Eagle, Petrus, or Penfolds Grange and hold their own. What emerged wasn't just a new category, it was a new identity. Kosher wines had gone from an obligation to a statement. From ritual to reward, from that bottle in the back of the pantry to something you showcase in a climate-controlled cellar. But this rise in quality, prestige, and global acclaim came with a new challenge, because while kosher wine has never been better, wine itself is facing headwinds. The very consumers it hoped to attract millennials and Gen Zers are turning away from wine entirely. Why? That's what we'll explore next. There was a time not so long ago when wine was practically considered a vitamin. I'm talking about the 1990s. Red wine was the hero of the French Paradox, that catchy medical mystery where French people were eating buttery foods, rich cheeses, slabs of meat, and yet had lower heart disease than Americans. The explanation: a daily glass of red wine— moderation, they said— was the secret. Cabernet became your cardiologist's best friend. Resveratrol was the buzzword of the decade. Even kosher wine drinkers began to embrace this narrative. Now the Friday night kiddush was not just a mitzvah, it was preventive medicine. But the pendulum, as it always does, started to swing the other way. In 2010, studies started poking holes in the heart health hypothesis. By the 2020s, the tone had shifted dramatically. Canada's new alcohol guidelines, released in 2023, stated bluntly that there is no safe amount of alcohol. The World Health Organization said the same. The phrase 'a glass a day keeps the doctor away' became a relic of bad science. Wine was no longer a symbol of sophistication it was a risk factor. So now the popular story goes something like this: young people are drinking less wine because they care more about their health. And at first glance, that makes a lot of sense. Let's ground ourselves in data though. From an American wine consumption perspective, 10 years ago the per capita figure was was nearly 9.8 liters per person, translating to around 7.5 liters by 2015 and just 4.5 liters today. That's more than a 50% reduction. The downward slope isn't a blip. It's a signal that something fundamental is changing in how we drink. Millennials and Gen Zers are wellness-oriented. They count macros. They do cold plunges. They own wearable health tech. Many don't even drink soda, let alone Merlot. But here's the twist. If this trend were purely about health, then wouldn't alcohol sales be dropping across the board? Well, actually, they're not. In fact, some segments are booming. Tequila is growing double digits year over year. Vermouth—yes, I said vermouth—is being rediscovered by mixologists and Gen Z bartenders who want botanicals, low-proof flavors with Instagram appeal. Flavored vodka, mezcal, spicy margaritas, espresso martinis, They're all thriving. To put this in perspective, in the US, the average adult drinks about 43 glasses of wine per year. But if you look at how much spirits are used in cocktails, that same adult is drinking the equivalent of nearly 75 cocktails a year. That's almost twice as many cocktails as glasses of wine. And that's not just about alcohol content, it's about culture. Cocktails offer control, customization, and a splash of spectacle. While wine is asking you to slow down, cocktails ask you to lean in. That difference is changing everything. That maybe wine isn't being rejected for its alcohol content Maybe it's being left behind for other reasons. Maybe wine has lost its vibe. Think about it. Cocktails are colorful. They come in coupés and Collins glasses with burnt citrus garnish and smoky bubbles. They're easy to understand. They taste like fun. Wine, by contrast, feels like it's a test. Do you know the region? The varietal? The producer? The vintage? It's not just a drink, it's a performance, and for many younger consumers, that's exhausting. Now imagine you're a kosher consumer, trying to navigate this landscape. You already face extra complexity. Is it mevushal? Does the hashkafah align with my minhagim? The entire experience can feel more like checking boxes than choosing pleasure. And let's be honest, if your choices come down to a $50 bottle of kosher Cabernet that you've never heard of or a cucumber lavender gin cocktail crafted tableside, well, the gin is starting to look pretty tempting. This doesn't mean wine is doomed. It means wine, especially kosher wine, needs to rethink how it shows up in a world driven by aesthetics, speed, and low-friction pleasure. The truth is, wine isn't just struggling with the health narrative, it's struggling with relevance. So how do you take a 6,000-year-old beverage and make it feel modern again? Let's explore the cultural and sensory shifts that are reshaping the way we drink, and why wine, once the king of the table, now finds itself looking for a seat. In an era defined by speed, customization, and personal expression, the way we drink has changed. For younger generations, millennials and especially Gen Zers, instant and experimental isn't just a trend, it's a lifestyle. And through social media, that trend is spreading from younger generations up the age ladder to all consumers. Wine is a slow beverage. It invites ritual. You uncork it, you swirl it, you wait. It asks you to pause, to contemplate, to appreciate its nuances and taste. But this new generation of drinkers, they live in real time. They don't want to store their bottles in dedicated fridges. They don't have the patience to wait for their expensive bottles to enter their drinking windows. They don't want to wait after removing the cork for the wine to open up. They want something that shows up fast tastes bold, and delivers an experience they can share not just with their tables but with their followers on Instagram. The modern cocktail, especially in urban and upscale kosher dining, has become a performance. It's a drink, yes, but it's also a spectacle. It's smoked, stirred, torched, topped with herbs, flowers, foam, It's curated for visual impact, flavor intensity, and personal branding. In other words, it's made to be photographed. And more importantly, it's made to be remembered. In today's world, luxury isn't just about the price. It's about immediacy. It's about being able to buy into a brand that delivers its full emotional social statement the moment it hits the table. A glowing cocktail with a handcrafted garnish doesn't just taste good, it makes a statement instantly. It tells your friends, your date, your Instagram followers, I know what's trending, I have taste, I belong here. That's beverage luxury redefined. Not something you need to decant, explain, or age. It's right there in your glass, effortless and admired, a moment of sophistication that's ready the second it's served. Cocktails also offer something that wine rarely does: control. You can choose your base spirit—vodka, mezcal, gin. You can make it spicy, herbal, sweet, sour. You can ask for substitutions. You can build a flavor profile around your mood. That personalization makes the drink feel tailored, not assigned. It feels like what you want, not a winemaker's decision from 2019. Wine doesn't offer that kind of input. You pick the bottle, or someone picks the bottle for you, and you get what's inside. The story is already written. For a generation raised on Spotify playlists and AI-powered shopping carts, that's a tough sell. And then there's the psychology of wine. For many young drinkers, wine still carries a kind of intellectual baggage. They worry they don't know enough. They fear being judged. They hesitate before pronouncing 'Gurtztraminer.' Wine has the aura of something you need to study, not just enjoy. And in a world that rewards transparency, accessibility, and play, that exclusivity can feel like a barrier, not a bridge. We should talk about sessionability, Today's drinkers don't just want a buzz, they want balance. That's part of why vermouth, herbal liqueurs, spritzers, and low-ABV cocktails are exploding in popularity. They allow you to have a third drink without slurring your words, to keep the night going without crashing the next day. Wine could own that space. But it hasn't told the story well, especially in kosher markets. In short, young drinkers want flavor, control, shareability, and fun, and they want it now. Kosher wine, for all its progress, still largely lives in a world of formality, tradition, and gatekeeping. But here's the twist. It doesn't mean wine can't evolve. It just means it has to stop assuming its value is obvious. It has to earn attention, not expect it. And that's where we'll go next. What can kosher wine learn from the world of cocktails? Not just in marketing, but in the experience it offers to a new generation. So far we've talked about cultural shifts, aesthetics, and generational psychology. But now it's time to talk about brass tacks, because there's another reason why wine is losing ground. It's about money. It's about efficiency, logistics, and service friction. And the uncomfortable truth is, for most restaurants, event venues, even wineries, wine, especially kosher wine, is becoming a harder sell. Let's start with a simple example. You own a restaurant. A bottle of kosher wine, let's say a $45 Cabernet, yields 5 glasses. You charge $15 a glass. If you sell every pour, you make $75 on that bottle. Not bad. But now let's factor in spoilage. If that bottle doesn't sell out that night, the last glass might go down the drain. Red wine oxidizes, white wine's dull, sparkling— forget it, it could be dead in 20 minutes. And unlike spirits, once opened, that wine is racing against time. And then there's storage. Wine needs to be kept cool. Red and whites at different temperatures, sparkling at even colder temperatures, and it has to be served in proper stemware. That's fridge space, glassware washing, service time— all extra costs that don't exist with a simple gin and tonic. Spirits, they sit on a shelf, room temperature, No urgency, no oxidation, no waste, no special handling. Now let's add another layer, the kosher angle. In many kosher venues, wine must be mevushal to avoid halachic concerns around who handles or pours it. That limits selection. Some of the best kosher wines, the really expressive ones, aren't mevushal. Which means unless your mashgiach is pouring every glass, you can't serve it. And if you do serve non-mevushal wine, now you need to train staff on what they can touch, open, and pour. It's not just complex, it's risky. And here's the kicker: the margins just don't compare. A single bottle of premium tequila, let's say $35 wholesale, Yields 17 cocktails. Selling each one at $18, and you're grossing $306 from a single bottle. Your cost around 11%. Wine, meanwhile, has a much thinner profit window, especially kosher wine, which often costs more at wholesale and moves slower. From a business perspective, it's simple math. Cocktails win. And this matters not just for restaurant owners, but for winemakers. If kosher wine is hard to serve, hard to explain, hard to protect, and hard to profit from, it's going to be harder to justify featuring it, harder to move bottles, harder to get attention. And that's a huge problem for an industry that's producing some of the best kosher wine in history. But increasingly can't get it into the glass. We're seeing this already: shorter wine lists at kosher restaurants, wedding caterers defaulting to m'fouchel basics, consumers opting for cocktails because they feel simpler, lighter, and frankly cooler. Even at high-end events, it's not uncommon to see a premium whiskey table but a wine list that's stuck in 2009. But it doesn't have to be this way. There are ways to flip this script. Wineries can work directly with venues to offer curated lists and fresh inventory. More mevushal wines are now being made with minimal intervention and smart thermal protocols. And the kosher wine industry could take a page from the playbook of mixologists. Create moments, offer education, show value. Don't just pour, perform. Because wine is not just a drink, it's an experience. But to stay competitive, it has to become an experience worth choosing— economically, logistically, and emotionally. And that brings us to our final act. What can kosher wine do to capture hearts and glasses in this fast-shifting landscape? So here we are. Kosher wine has never been better—technically, creatively, and spiritually—but the world around us has changed. The question now is, can the wine industry evolve to meet this moment? I believe the answer is a definitive yes. But it will take intention, imagination, and bold steps. First, kosher wine needs to shed its intimidation factor. For too long, wine has leaned on language that alienates instead of invites. It doesn't have to be that way. Imagine labels that say bright, chillable red with a splash of spice, perfect for barbecuing or binge-watching Netflix, or tasting notes that read, think dried figs, cracked pepper, and a Shabbat table under the stars. That's wine speaking the language of real life, of joy, of accessibility. We also need to rethink aging. While some bottles deserve cellaring, the majority of consumers, especially younger ones, want wine that's drinkable tonight. Fresh rosés, chillable reds, pet-nats, carbonic syrahs, crisp unoaked chardonnays—these are wines that deliver instant gratification without sacrificing craft. They match the tempo of the modern table—casual, vibrant, and unpredictable. And let's talk format. Why aren't we seeing more kosher wine in half bottles, single-serve cans, or sleek 375mm glass? These formats reduce commitment. They're perfect for picnics, first dates, or tasting flights. And yes, above all, they're Instagrammable. If we want kosher wine to show up as at the same parties where cocktails live. We have to package it like it belongs there. One of the greatest missed opportunities in kosher wine today is service storytelling. You can't rely on a label to do the work. You need trained staff, tasting sheets, and yes, passionate advocates. What if kosher restaurants train their servers the way wineries train tasting room hosts. What if wine was part of the narrative of the meal, not just an afterthought? We're not just selling juice, we're offering terroir, tradition, craftsmanship, and connection. Wine needs context, and in 2025, that context is collaboration. Imagine a kosher winemaker pairing up with a chef for a pop-up tasting menu. I've attended those, they're so much fun. Or a wine influencer doing a short reel, 5 kosher wines to pair with street food, or what bubbly to drink on Tu B'Av. This is how to expand reach, not with scores and medals, but with moments people can relate to. And finally, let's reimagine what luxury looks like. Today's luxury is not just about exclusivity, it's about effortlessness and impact. A drink that makes you feel seen, admired, confident immediately. The cocktail world has mastered this. Kosher Wine can to. But what we first have to stop doing is whispering and start showing. Show the vineyards, show the faces, show the joy. Let the wine speak to the moment, and it will find its place again at the center of the table. What it needs now is urgency, creativity, and a deep respect for the people it hopes to to reach next. Because the future of wine won't be decided in a cellar, it'll be decided at the table. And that table looks very different than it did just a few years ago. So let's take one last look around the table. There's a glass of wine sitting in front of you. It's deep red, or maybe golden straw, or shimmering blush. That glass represents 6,000 years of tradition, pressed by hand, poured with purpose. But in the world we live in now, tradition alone isn't enough. We've spent this episode asking some very hard questions. If kosher wine is better than it has ever been before, why are fewer people drinking it? The answer we found lies somewhere between perception and experience. Younger drinkers aren't saying no to wine. They're just saying yes to something faster, flashier, easier to access. Something that feels less like a lecture and more like a story they can step into. But that doesn't mean wine is lost. Quite the opposite. Because here's the thing about wine, real wine: it's not about status, it's not about scorecards, it's about a place, it's about people, and it's about time. And kosher wine, when it's at its best, tells a story like no other beverage can. It tells the story of a people rooted in exile and return. Of vineyards reborn in ancient soil, of risk-takers and rule-followers, of farmers and philosophers, and maybe, just maybe, a new generation rediscovering something they didn't know they needed. If you've been with us from the beginning here on the Kosher Terroir, I want to thank you for being part of this journey and If this is your first episode, welcome. We found you a seat at the table because this podcast isn't about wine, it's about identity, it's about curiosity, about rethinking the things we think we already know. Every week we bring you inside the vineyard, into the minds of winemakers, trendsetters, kosher trailblazers, and spiritual thinkers. We unpack the layers in every glass, and we ask the questions that no one else is asking in the kosher wine world. So if something in this episode challenged you or inspired you or made you want to pick up a bottle you've never tried before, subscribe, share it with a friend, and join the Kosher Terroir family. Because wine at its core isn't meant to be stored away forever. It's meant to be opened, shared, and enjoyed. And so are we. Until next time, l'chaim. I'm Simon Jacob, and this is The Kosher Teruah. This is Simon Jacob again, your host of today's episode of The Kosher Teruah. I have a personal request. No matter where you are or where you live, please take a moment to pray for our soldiers' safety and the safe and rapid return of our hostages. Please subscribe via your podcast provider to be informed of our new episodes as they are released. If you are new to The Kosher Terroir, please check out our many past episodes.