Repost: Drinking on Purim
A little headlong dive into what its all about, and some recommendations to slake your thirst
The Jewish holiday of Purim [פּוּרִים] is today, so many kosher consumers will be thinking about appropriate wines to suit the religiously mandated feast of the day. I am reposting this now. It was originally posted 2 years ago — so the specific wine recommendations are out of date, but the brands won’t steer anybody too far wrong. Opting for all Israeli-made wines would be an especially good option under the current circumstances—look for brands such as Domaine du Castel, Shiloh, Tzora Vineyards, Yatir, Flam, Jezreel Valley, Pelter, Carmel, Recanati, Vitkin, Dalton, Tura, Golan Heights Winery, Gva’ot, and Psagot. Though from a solidarity perspective ALL Israeli wineries have been dramatically and adversely impacted by the war, so buying ANY Israeli wines helps in some small way.
Okay, back to drinking heartily on Purim!
Typically, of course, moderation in the consumption of alcohol is called for since too much of a good thing is, well, too much…but not on Purim.
[Note: Grab a contemplative dram of whisky or glass of wine, and bear with me for a few moments, I’ll get to the sauce soon enough. I promise.]
To those who enjoy their tipple, Purim is generally thought of as an opportunity to indulge, quenching their thirst with real gusto, while doing so still very firmly within the sanctity of the confines of Jewish communal life. Indeed, many seek to get thoroughly blotto!
Purim commemorates the salvation of the Jewish communities living under Persian rule, around 450 BCE, as depicted in the Biblical Book of Esther [מְגִלַּת אֶסְתֵּר or Megillat Esther; a Megillah is a scroll]. The name Purim means lots as in the phrase “to draw lots”—one of a set of items, such as straws, sticks, stones, or bits of paper, that are randomly selected as part of a decision-making process.
The lots here are a reference to the lottery-based decision making used by Haman—the baddie of the story—to determine on which date he intended to initiate his evil plan and release his hordes to exterminate the Jews of ancient Persia. As the verse states, “because Haman the son of Hammedatha, the Agagite, the enemy of all the Jews, had devised against the Jews to destroy them, and had cast pur [פּוּר] that is, the lot to discomfit them, and to destroy them…Wherefore they called these days Purim, after the name of pur.” (Esther 9:24-26). Purim is often thought yet another example of the age-old Jewish holiday theme: they tried to kill us, we survived, let’s eat.
The holiday is a one-day celebration, observed annually on the 14th day of the Hebrew month of Adar, which generally falls around late winter or early spring. Jewish days begin and end at sundown, so Purim 2022 begins on Wednesday night (16 March) and continues through Thursday (17 March; it extends through Friday in Jerusalem, Israel). [This year, 2024, Purim began last night (23 March) and continues through this evening (24 March).]
There is a religious obligation to be joyous on the holiday, but Purim has anyway always resonated with the Jewish national psyche as it speaks to the historically precarious-seeming nature of Jewish survival. The story of Purim is thought to epitomize the experiences of the Jewish people in most all countries of the Diaspora, in which our fate has been subject to the caprice and fancy of the local ruler. (The USA thankfully being, so far, one of the rare exceptions.)
As Rabbi Berel Wein once put it, “Jews live with a constant Purim story unfolding in all generations and over all time…These characters are prototypes for later personalities, ideas, plots and events that occur throughout history.” Likewise, the sudden shift of events of the Biblical story of Esther has always provided, over the centuries, a modicum of hope and encouragement to the beleaguered and benighted Jew in exile. (Those interested can learn more about the holiday here or here).
The religious obligations of the holiday include reading or hearing the public reading of the Megillah of the Book of Esther; Mishloach Manot [משלוח מנות; “sending of portions” of food to friends], Matanot l’Evyonim [מתנות לאביונים; giving “gifts to the needy”], and the Purim Seudat Mitzvah [סעודת מצוה; “commanded meal,” an obligatory festive meal or feast].
So, what’s the connection between Purim and imbibing alcohol?
For starters, the Biblical narrative of Esther is rife with drinking wine to reckless abandon. This should not be all that surprising as the Greek Historian Herodotus (c. 484 – c. 425 BCE) reported that the ancient Persians enjoyed their tipple:
To wine-drinking they are very much given…they are wont to deliberate when drinking hard about the most important of their affairs, and whatsoever conclusion has pleased them in their deliberation, this on the next day, when they are sober, the master of the house in which they happen to be when they deliberate lays before them for discussion: and if it pleases them when they are sober also, they adopt it, but if it does not please them, they let it go: and that on which they have had the first deliberation when they are sober, they consider again when they are drinking. (Histories 1: 133).
Similarly the Ancient Greek Geographer Strabo (63 BCE – 24C E) wrote,
they [the Persians] carry on their most important deliberations when drinking wine; and they regard decisions then made as more lasting than those made when they are sober (Geography, Book XV, 3:20).
The excessive drinking in the Book of Esther isn’t just extraneous detail either. As Rabbi Yisrael Meir ha-Kohen Kagan (1838 – 1933), more widely known as the Chofetz Chaim [חפץ חיים; after one of his more popular books], explained it, “Because all of the miracles of Purim occurred through feasting with wine…the Sages instituted the drinking of wine [at the festive meal] and becoming inebriated as a reminder of these events” (Biur Halachah, Orach Chaim 695, s.v. chayav inish).
This is also in keeping with the words of the Book of Esther itself, “they should make them days of feasting and gladness” (Esther 9:22).
Indeed, one of the most well-known observances of Purim is, in the words of Rabbi Yosef Karo [1488-1575; in his authoritative Jewish legal work the שולחן ערוך; Shulchan Aruch], “to drink on Purim until one does not know the difference between ‘cursed is Haman’ and ‘blessed is Mordechai’” (see Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chayyim, Siman 695 se’if katan 1). In fact, this is a direct quote from the Talmud (Masechet Megillah, 7b).
Seems pretty straightforward, right? Let’s crack those bottles open! Well, not so fast.
After all, as the old Yiddish folksong has it, “Shikker iz a goy” [שיכור איז א גוי], “drunkard is a gentile”, while “Nekhter iz a Yid” [ניכטער איז א איד] “sober is a Jew” (see here for a contemporary performance by the wonderful Cantor Yanky Lemmer).
Indeed, the Jewish view of drunkenness is crystal clear—it’s bad! Very, very bad! As Rabbi Dov Fischer succinctly put it in a 2011 article for the Los Angeles Jewish Journal, “Judaism despises drunkenness.”
See, for example, the words of the 12th-Century sage Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon (aka Maimonides), “Whoever becomes drunk is a sinner, is shameful, and will lose his wisdom” (Mishneh Torah, Sefer HaMaddah, Dei’ot 5:3), and “drunkenness depends on the free will of an evil man…drunkenness…ruins the mind and the body of man, reason stamps [it] as a vice” (Moreh Nevuchim, Vol III, chapter 8; see also Mishneh Torah, Sefer Zemanim, 6:20).
As one might expect, the rabbinic sages uniformly treat general drunkenness in similar terms, and references to Noah (see Genesis 9:20-25) and Lot (see Genesis 19: 31-38) and other Biblical instances of untoward drunkenness are not infrequent in these admonishments and calls for temperance and sobriety.
Yet the language of the codified rule seems unambiguously clear that one ought to get relatively farshikert [פֿאַרשיקערט; Yiddish for intoxicated], i.e., as the incomparable P.G. Wodehouse might have put it, one should get thoroughly oiled, boiled, fried, plastered, whiffled, sozzled, squiffy, ossified, lathered, pie-eyed, woozled, whiffled, tight, stewed to the gills, and tanked to the uvula.
Many rabbinic authorities attempt to soften the language of the law, suggesting alternative ways of fulfilling the obligation without losing control—e.g., have one more drink than usual and then take a nap for in sleep one cannot make distinctions between blessings and curses. Some go so far as to simply prohibit getting drunk altogether. Many point to the story in the Talmud that immediately follows the Talmudic directive for drinking to excess on Purim and thereby conclude that the Talmud means to tell us NOT to follow the ruling that seemingly calls for drunkenness. The well-known Talmudic anti-drinking Purim story is this (Tractate Megillah 7b):
Rabbah and Rabbi Zeira joined together in a Purim feast. They became intoxicated, and Rabbah arose and slaughtered [שחטיה] Rabbi Zeira. The next day, [when he became sober and realized what he had done, Rabbah] asked [God] for mercy, and brought him back to life. The next year, [Rabbah] said to [Rabbi Zeira] “Let the Master come and let us prepare the Purim feast with each other.” He [Rabbi Zeira] said to him [Rabbah]: “Miracles do not happen each and every hour!”
[NOTE: Rabbi Shmuel Eidels (1555 – 1631), more widely known by the Hebrew acronym Maharsha [מהרש"א; "Our Teacher, the Rabbi Shmuel Eidels"], writes “It is unthinkable to explain this passage literally. Rather, the meaning is it was “as if he killed him,” i.e. Rabbah gave him wine and forced him to drink too much until Rabbi Zeira fell ill and was in danger of dying. Thus, the Talmud employs the term “slaughtering,” for drinking wine is done via the throat, which is the place of slaughtering…and Rabbah prayed that Rabbi Zeira would not die from this illness. And we find that the term “bring back to life” is a substitute for “heal.”]
Indeed, Rabbi Yosef Karo himself took this anti-inebriation position in his earlier halachic work, the Beit Yosef [בית יוסף]:
Rabbeinu Nissim wrote in the name of Rabbeinu Ephraim that we learn from the story of Rabbah getting up at the Purim feast and slaying Rabbi Zeira that [the story] eliminates the statement of Rava [to get drunk on Purim]. It is not a good thing to act this way [getting drunk]. It is written in Orchos Chayyim (Sefer Kol Bo) that…One should not get drunk, for inebriation is completely forbidden. There is no greater sin than this for it causes forbidden sexual relationships, murder, and many other sins. However, one should drink a little more than usual (Beit Yosef, Orach Chayyim, Siman 695).
And yet, Rabbi Karo did not write any of that in the actual Shulchan Aruch when he codified the ruling which clearly states that one ought to get drunk on Purim, cited above. That said, Rabbi Moshe Isserless [1530-1572; known more generally by the Hebrew acronym רמ״א, Rema (רב משה איסרלישׂ)], in his inseparable gloss on the Shulchan Aruch (included in every published edition of the Shulchan Aruch since 1578), adds:
There are those that say that one does not have to get drunk. Rather, he should drink more than usual (Kol Bo), and fall asleep. By sleeping he will not know the difference between ‘cursed be Haman’ and ‘blessed be Mordechai’ (Maharil). Both the one who [drinks] a lot and the one who [drinks] a little [is praiseworthy] as long as his intention is for the sake of Heaven. [Note: This last bit is a paraphrase of the Mishnah on Menachot 110a].
So, what should one make of all of this?
Rabbi Yechiel Michel Epstein [1829–1908] confronted the conundrum directly in his masterful halachic work the Aruch HaShulchan [ערוך השולחן] (Orach Chaim, chelek 3, siman 695), stating unequivocally that this ruling of the Talmud— “to drink on Purim until one does not know the difference between…”—is “astonishing!” For, as Rabbi Epstein explains, “if so, one would need to become as drunk as the drunkenness of Lot”—who in a drunken stupor had incestuous relations with his daughters without even being aware of it.
Rabbi Epstein then notes the gloss of Rabbi Isserless. But this approach, he notes, “is not entirely understandable” either because the specific language used in the Talmud is “‘until one does not know,’ rather than ‘he should drink until he dozes off,’” and also the “Tur and the Shulchan Aruch wrote absolutely like the language of the gemara, ‘until one does not know’…It is confounding.”
It is indeed. After reviewing more of the rabbinic source material, Rabbi Epstein ultimately concludes—albeit uneasily—that “in practice, one should distance oneself from drunkenness…And one should only drink a bit more than his accustomed amount, and then nap a bit.”
Suffice it to say that every religiously minded avid imbiber who remains uncertain of which course to follow ought to seek and be guided by the counsel of their local rabbinic authority.
Ok, still with me? On to the wine!
So, all of this drinking of wine—and oh by the way, most of the halachic sources suggest wine is preferred over other intoxicants since wine is what was drunk in the Book of Esther and around which so much of the story turns, and yet the custom to use primarily wine is surprisingly less widespread—is supposed to take place at the Purim Seudat Mitzvah, the obligatory festive meal or feast. So, ideally one should think in terms of what wines will go best with their planned seuda menu.
As I never tire of arguing, wine and food pairing is to a very great extent a personal and individual matter. There is no “perfect” pairing per se, though perfection in the moment is attainable.
Most wine-drinking cultures have tended to reach for whatever wines were most local, and nearest to hand—and have done very well indeed for centuries with this approach.
I am always put in mind of the sage words and easy going vibe of cookbook author and TV personality chef Jacques Pépin. Over the decades he has many times expressed variations of the same theme regarding wine and food pairing. For example, see this interview in Food and Wine magazine from 2017:
"When I was a child, we always had wine on the table, no matter how simple the meal. The wine had no special identity; it was just "the wine," from the cellar cask. The rules were general: white with the first course, red with the main course."
"Today, when I pair food and wine, I start with the food. If I have a beautiful roasted bird, I might choose a Cabernet or Pinot Noir, or maybe a Syrah, depending on the sauce and what is in my cellar."
"My wife and I mostly like simple wines: Sauvignon Blanc from France, Napa, Italy or Chile; Alsatian Riesling or Grüner Veltliner; rosé in summer. As for reds, we drink Pinots from Oregon or Burgundy and Cabernets from Bordeaux or Napa. For everyday, we like Beaujolais, Grenache or Syrah, and we like a lot of it! It's a family tradition: We would never consider having a meal without wine."
Or try this one from an interview in the Wine Spectator magazine from 2005:
WS: What is your approach toward wine as part of a meal?
JP: Preferably a lot of it and not too expensive [laughing]. In my culture, when I was a kid in France, we had wine on the table and that was the wine—it was usually red—that you had with your onion soup or your fish or your roast chicken. For special occasions, you would open a corked bottle… For me, it was always there. I've been married 40 years and I can't remember a meal where we didn't open a bottle of wine with dinner, sometimes two.
WS: What are your favorites?
JP: Maybe because I'm from Lyon, I love Beaujolais. It goes with anything; it's not pretentious; you don't have to discuss it. I like Syrah, Grenache, and occasionally a great Burgundy or Bordeaux.
Still, if one wishes for more of a didactic approach, think of it this way. The goal of pairing wine with food is balance; neither the food nor the wine should overpower each other, and each component should, by and large, softly complement the other. It really ought not to require too much thought. General rules of thumb — like lighter foods with lighter wines, richer foods with richer, full-bodied wines — can be useful, but should not be treated as absolute. Sometimes contrasts work brilliantly too.
The only wine rule I consider inviolable is this: do not run out of wine!
When planning a relative feast of any sort, I estimate roughly one bottle per drinking guest (about 6 glasses). Even more so for the Purim seuda.
I have many American, Anglo and Israeli Jewish friends who would think this suggestion patently absurd. There are still many Jewish homes in which a single, solitary bottle of wine is expected to last for more than one meal...they have my abiding sympathy. Obviously, one should know thy audience, and plan accordingly.
To my way of thinking, it is much better to have leftover open bottles of wine, than to run out entirely and leave a guest “dry” or made to feel uncomfortably thirsty for more wine. (I confess this has never been much of an issue in my home, but on those rare occasions, the leftover wine is either consumed at the next meal, or in preparation of the next meal.) If the thought of unfinished opened bottles of wine is irksome, and imagination somehow fails on how to employ such leftovers, hand them out to your guests as a parting gift (though be mindful of local laws).
As to selecting wines, be generous and think in terms of the overall menu and crowd, not just specific dishes. Experience is the surest guide, so experiment liberally in advance. When in doubt, provide guests with multiple options. Opening at least one red and one white to allow guests to select as desired is an especially easy and recommended approach.
Another easy approach is to open sparkling wines—so long as they don’t lose their chill, a nice sparkling brut, for example, will go with just about everything. Two of my favorite not too expensive options are the Gigal Brut from the Golan Heights Winery in Israel and the Elvi Cava Brut from Elvi Wines in Spain.
[Note: the links to specific wines are provided for ease of access and to help folks identify the wines, they need not be purchased specifically from kosherwine.com and I receive zero benefits from anybody doing so. Likewise, I am a firm believer in supporting local businesses. That said, the folks at kosherwine.com are also great people providing a great service to kosher consumers farther afield.]
The Gilgal Brut is made in the traditional French Champagne method from Chardonnay and Pinot Noir grapes grown in Israel’s Galilee region, and to my mind is always lovely, bubbly, dry, crisp, and balanced. Similarly the Elvi Cava Brut, also made in the traditional French Champagne method, is a blend of the Spanish grapes Perellada, Macabeo, and Xarello, and it too is lovely, dry, and elegant with wonderfully tight bubbles to keep it all very lively.
Yet another easy approach—and these are absolutely NOT mutually exclusive—is to opt for Beaujolais. I would especially recommend any of the Cru Beaujolais exclusively imported by kosherwine.com, such as their Louis Blanc Beaujolais Morgon 2019, Louis Blanc Cote de Brouilly Beaujolais 2018, or their Louis Blanc Beaujolais Julienas 2020. These red wines are sheer joy and, typical to nearly all Beaujolais wines, represent a unique style of delicious, fruity, fresh, red wines that have the weight, structure, and balance of a white wine. Like most white wines, Beaujolais is best served slightly chilled.
I very firmly believe that every well provisioned wine lover and meal-host should incorporate Beaujolais into their routine.
[2024 Note: there are now some other kosher Beaujolais options imported to the USA, see here. This includes the annual Duc de Pagny Beaujolais Nouveau – which is lovely, though the Beaujolais Nouveau is a particular style of Beaujolais that not even everybody who loves Beaujolais respects, much less enjoys—so if you are new to Beaujolais maybe start with the Villages or one of the Cru options. I personally adore all Beaujolais.]
All of that said, for those still seeking a little more specific guidance, for Purim I personally like to turn to the Megillah itself for inspiration. After all, a little focus on what all the celebratory fuss is about seems good form.
In the story, after Haman is hanged, and Mordechai and Esther turn things around by getting permission from the king for the right of the Jewish people to preemptively kill their enemies, the ‘shock and awe’ style action begins. Amidst the carnage are listed ten names (Esther 9:7-9) identified as “the ten sons of Haman” (verse 10).
On that phrase, the preeminent Jewish biblical commentator Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki [1040-1105, best known by the Hebrew acronym of his name רש"י or Rashi] makes an interesting comment, “These are the ten who wrote a [false] accusation against Judea and Jerusalem, as it is written in the Book of Ezra (4:6): ‘And in the reign of Ahasuerus, at the beginning of his reign, they wrote an accusation against the dwellers of Judea and Jerusalem.’” Rabbi Yitzchaki gives more details, but the takeaway is that Haman’s sons sought to thwart Jewish aspirations in the Land of Israel.
So, based on this, it seems to me Israeli wine would make an especially fitting accompaniment to the Purim seuda.
The choices are many and varied, obviously, and one can’t go wrong with the previously mentioned Gilgal Brut, but here are six additional delicious and not too expensive—price is all relative, alas—options to consider (two whites, one rosé, and three reds):
Netofa Latour White 2020, a yummy dry Chenin Blanc from Israel’s Galilee region with a nice fruity earthy balance, braced by a lovely subtle salinity.
Gush Etzion Lone Oak Sauvignon Blanc 2020, grown in Israel’s Judean Hills region, this is fairly gentle tending more towards refreshing congeniality rather than bracing acidity, but remains balanced and tasty.
Darom by Yatir Rose 2020, with plenty of character and flavor, this bright, enjoyable rosé is 50% Grenache, 25% Zinfandel, and 25% Tempranillo, from vineyards in both Israel’s Negev desert and the southern Judean Hills.
Vitkin Israeli Journey Red 2020, this vibrant, dry red blend—55% Carignan, 25% Syrah, 10% Cabernet Franc, 5% Marselan, and 5% Grenache Noir—grown in Israel’s Shomron region, offers wonderful dark fruits, herbs, and engaging complexity while remaining fun and refreshing.
Dalton Asufa Majestic 2020, from old vine Carignan grown in Israel’s Galilee, this is a refreshing, medium bodied, balanced, fruity red with some subtle Mediterranean herb notes.
Recanati Reserve Petite Sirah 2018, this is deep, full, and earthy yet bright and somewhat spicy, brimming with character and offering notes of dark fruit, a little black licorice, and sage.
About me:
By way of background, I have been drinking, writing, consulting, and speaking professionally about kosher wines and spirits for more than 20 years. For over a dozen years I wrote a weekly column on kosher wines and spirits that appeared in several Jewish publications, and my writing generally has appeared in a wide variety of both Jewish and non-Jewish print and online media. A frequent public speaker, I regularly lead tutored tastings and conduct wine and spirits education and appreciation programs. Those interested in contacting me for articles or events can do so at jlondon75@gmail.com.
In what seems like a lifetime ago, I also wrote an entirely unrelated slice of American history: Victory in Tripoli: How America’s War with the Barbary Pirates Established the U.S. Navy and Shaped a Nation (John Wiley & Sons, 2005).
When not focused on wines and spirits, I work in pro-Israel advocacy. Previously a longtime D.C. lobbyist, I relocated with the family to the U.K. during the COVID period and really prefer life across the pond despite the ongoing absurd and frankly uncivilized dearth of kosher Beaujolais here.