Alcohol in Wine: The Angel and the Arsonist

Alcohol in wine is both the hero and the villain of the story. It gives the drink its warmth, its swagger, its sense of consequence — and, if left unchecked, it also burns, bludgeons, and ruins the plot. You could say alcohol is the heartbeat of wine: invisible when steady, disastrous when too strong or too weak. Yes, it is about how the warmth in your glass builds the story - or burns it down. 

Chemically, alcohol (ethanol, if we’re being sober about it) is what’s left after yeast has eaten grape sugar and burped out two things: alcohol and carbon dioxide. That’s fermentation — a process both simple and miraculous, like watching chaos organize itself into something that tastes like civilization. The more sugar in the grapes, the more potential alcohol. Warm regions grow grapes heavy with sugar, which makes big, boozy wines. Cooler climates make leaner grapes, lighter wines, sharper tongues.

But the number on the bottle — 12%, 13.5%, 15% — only tells half the truth. Alcohol isn’t just about strength; it’s about balance. A wine with high alcohol can still feel graceful if it has enough acidity, fruit, or tannin to carry the weight. Think of it like a well-trained heavyweight boxer: dangerous, yes, but surprisingly elegant when he moves right. Low-alcohol wines can be just as powerful in their own way — all finesse and whisper, like a story that’s more haunting than loud.

The tragedy comes when winemakers chase alcohol for its own sake, mistaking volume for voice. A great wine should never shout “I’m strong!” any more than a great pianist bangs the keys to prove he’s still alive. Alcohol should support the flavor, not strangle it. Too much, and it tastes hot, bitter, hollow. Too little, and the wine feels thin, slack and unfinished, like a sentence missing its verb.

Professionals often talk about “alcohol integration,” which sounds like a bureaucratic procedure but is really about harmony. When a wine is well made, you don’t notice the alcohol — you feel its warmth behind the scenes, quietly turning the volume knob on aroma, texture, and emotion. It’s what gives you that little inner glow, that sense that life might be tolerable after all.

So, yes, alcohol matters. But it’s not the point. It’s the stage light, not the actor. It’s there to illuminate the fruit, the land, the story. Drink a wine that gets that balance right and you’ll know it: the warmth, the lift, the clarity — everything humming together like the last chord of a good song.

That’s alcohol in wine. The angel and the arsonist in the same glass.