Sex, Drugs, and Sommeliers: Making a Safe Wine World

The first I heard of the accusations against Anthony Cailan was from an Instagram post earlier this month. The post was a screenshot of a New York Times piece which contained a message from Alice Feiring, a natural wine expert and author of Natural Wine for the People. Apparently Cailan, the wine guru from L.A. hotspots like Bestia and Animal, had made his way to the Usual in New York and helped the restaurant earn a spot on Wine Enthusiast’s list of “America’s 100 Best Wine Restaurants 2019.” However, when the young somm was named one of the rising stars of the wine world by Wine & Spirits magazine, four women came forward with sexual assault allegations that Cailan has denied.

The post I encountered was from Feiring’s own Instagram. It was November 2nd, the day after Julia Moskin’s aforementioned piece “A Celebrity Sommelier is Accused of Sexual Assault” debuted in The New York Times. I had just woken up at 8:00am, preparing myself for the day ahead with my first shot (okay, 12oz cup) of caffeine. To accompany her post, Feiring composed an apologetic caption that referenced an email sent to Raquel Makler, a 22-year old wine professional and Cailan’s mentee. Makler had come to New York from Los Angeles to assist her male colleague at the Usual. After he assaulted her, Makler reached out to Feiring, one of her role models, for support. Feiring’s response, as written in the NYT, was as follows: “It is up to us to learn to say no to unwanted sexual advances…But he was still just a kid who has some growing up to do. You may have perceived him as a powerful person in the industry, but he was/is not.”

When additional women came forward with a similar story—a late night in a drunk Cailan’s apartment turning into a fending off of his aggressive groping, language, and sexual advances—Makler’s exchange with Feiring frustrated me even more. Feiring has publicly apologized for her words and, essentially, victim-blaming. But her initial message reveals a great deal about how women perceive themselves and their professional roles in relation to men. Much of the dining population, including those employed by the industry, have come to accept the restaurant realm as complex battleground where social and physical boundaries sometimes blur into an abyss of ambiguity. Women, who have endured the label of the “lesser sex” for far too long, are more often the victims of these ambiguous scenarios while men continue to roughhouse inside their exclusive club. The wine industry in particular has maintained a sturdy foundation of men—it was only in 1980 that Madeline Triffon (from Detroit's London Chop House) became the first American woman to earn the title of master sommelier. And so the image of a suit-wearing, well-to-do white-gloved (most often) white man as the restaurant somm remains.

Have you ever thought about the life of a somm outside the restaurant? After much talk and literature like Cork Dork, Sweetbitter, and Kitchen Confidential, the social life of a wine expert seems like an invite-only sausage fest. There are tasting groups, industry events, and late nights of drinking, tasting, buying, and schmoozing. The chauvinists will strut about with a glass of the latest vintage, spewing ideas about tasting notes and structure, trying to best the people he calls his friends with his knowledge of the Loire and a $700+ bottle of wine. It was under this guise of playful—even “intellectual”—intoxication and luxurious indulgence that a shit-storm of brains, money, power, and competition birthed a male-dominated wine culture unrelentingly unwelcome to women.

A social façade bound by gender norms and power structures is probably why I sometimes fall victim to the bacchanalian fantasy of smart and gorgeous females pouring wine into my glass. But I acknowledge that these images are perpetuated by persistently enculturated notions of a woman’s worth in her career as a direct result of her countenance. Inside a restaurant, we may welcome a little indulgence and excess. As it pertains to female professionals, this has been misconstrued to induce uncomfortable workplace relations and instances of quieted sexual misconduct. The worst part, though, is that humans have come to accept this as a restaurant’s “rock n’ roll” reality.

When Ms. Feiring told Makler it was her duty to fend off Cailan’s advances, she was operating within a specific set of gendered expectations maintained by a male-dominated industry. When she said that Makler was mistaken to think that “just a kid” was a powerful entity in their field, not only did she diminish the breadth of Makler’s professional experience, but she also blamed Makler’s judgement as the result of her assault. In this scenario, Feiring represents the problematic acceptance of male authority (and general idiocy, tomfoolery, etc.) in food and wine. These withstanding gender dynamics have forced women to accept that success requires stroking men’s egos, laughing off pranks, and excusing wandering hands. Makler then emerges as a second wave of the #MeToo movement and sheds light on the prevalence of victim-blaming and the blatant socio-cultural domination of sexism in male-female relationships.

Some Backstory:

Between 1890-1910, the proliferation of middle-class restaurants (coffee shops, cafeterias, tearooms, even ice cream parlors) in New York drew women from their homes and out into various sectors of public life. Nonetheless, men still made the rules about public dining and admitted women to eating establishments only when accompanied by a man. According to Paul Freedman’s Ten Restaurants that Changed America, women were finally allowed to dine solo under two conditions. If the space did not serve alcohol—a safe space free from boisterous, drunken men—then she was welcomed. Furthermore, a woman was only permitted to dine alone if she presented herself as a “respectable woman” with impeccable credentials, though the definition of such a woman was highly subjective (101). It was not until the end of the 1950s that Schrafft’s, a middle-class cafeteria and charming ice cream saloon, began to employ women as cooks and servers with the idea that female staff would know how to better please female patrons (109). In short, the induction of women in restaurants has been predicated on a man’s ability to manage their position, income, and status. Women have therefore been forced to operate under the weight of their male overlord’s financial, occupational, sexual, and moral compasses to achieve the success and recognition they already deserve.

What Now?

If restaurant society is to move forward, women can no longer stay silent about the violent acts being done to them. What Alice Feiring said to Raquel Makler represents the institutional failure of a culture shaped and dominated by misogyny. It exposes us to the dangerous reality of normalizing male and female correspondence as an exchange of sex and power. Finally, it hinders us from tapping into a world of new ideas, safer spaces, and healthier professional relationships that can only blossom in the absence of intimidation, oppression, and abuse. What Feiring said to Makler is not her fault. It’s everyone’s fault. While we encourage women to come forward and tell their stories, we must also forge a better path for men to walk on toward consequence and forgiveness. This is not retribution. This is not vengeance. A dialogue of repentance must be formed, one that functions cohesively and satisfactorily between all parties. The objective of this dialogue is not to reiterate a sensationalized dynamic of male villain and female victim. It is not related to the word’s religious connotations. That would only validate our idea of a pure, subjugated, defenseless woman under the thumb of an omnipresent male. It does nothing to mitigate the structural failures that perpetuated the horrible acts endured by Makler and other female sommeliers. Repentance will help us to acknowledge that we are all victims of a modern society that created a collective consciousness of gender to reinforce an archaic and outdated system of management and power relations.

Justice for women must be served, just as justice for men. But if our only solution is to place a victim on a pedestal of pity and sympathy while we contemplate the severity of her attacker’s punishment, nothing improves. The justice system can incarcerate the man; the restaurant can fire him. The man may lose his freedom, his friends, his job, and all his credibility. The woman will work for some time as “the one who was assaulted,” “the one who threw “so-and-so” in jail,” or “the one who got him fired.” It may affect her career opportunities, her social life, and her self-esteem. None of these outcomes are ideal. It is up to diners, critics, writers, influencers, bartenders, managers, cooks, chefs, servers, and somms to make the lives of women inside a restaurant safe and productive. We must rid ourselves from the tendency to blindly accept the more illicit expectations we have of men in a society that suggests the need for strong female leaders and role models. I believe that a dialogue of repentance will do just that. It will not put men and women against each other in a race up social and financial ladders. It will help men and women foster healthier and more functional professional relationships. With repentance, we ground ourselves through a moral and ethical duty to respect and cherish each other’s words, bodies, and boundaries.

Repentance v. Retribution:

 If a female employee is bodily or emotionally violated by her male colleague, a repentance dialogue offers to empower the attacked with the onset of painful remorse or contrition endured by the instigator. I understand this is an almost unattainable ideal…for now. This dialogue can only function after restaurants and their employees discuss and understand the sanctity of their businesses. Restaurants are sites of romance, creativity, community, hospitality, service, indulgence, and joy. Alcohol consumption in these scenarios cannot excuse questionable exchanges, objectionable language, and unexpected violence. Together, male and female employees must create safe and inclusive spaces both in and outside of restaurant walls. The repentance dialogue constructs these spaces because its rhetoric emphasizes human morality—that we are good, kind, and obligated to support the wellbeing of our colleagues—and not malicious intentions to be dealt with by severe punishment. This is repentance versus retribution.

If a woman is morally wronged by her superior, repentance motivates her to come forward and demand his forgiveness. In forgiveness, the man admits his wrongdoing and must witness the discomfort, shame, and frustration his actions caused. His apology is not a means to avoid punishment. Repentance can take place inside the restaurant between both parties and a witness (i.e.: the superior of both employees) in order to collectively determine a reasonable course of action. In retribution, this interaction cannot occur because it utilizes vengeance as a means to an end: the woman feels compelled to stay silent at work because she fears judgment or termination. Her anger and frustration motivates her to go public and expose what has been done to her. While her actions may help others come forward with similar stories, a greater, national dialogue of victim-blaming, gender relations, and power dynamics begins. After the man has been publicly shamed and forced to immediately confirm or deny the allegations, he is faced with the thought of losing his job, his credibility, or conviction. Thus a dialogue of retribution perpetuates a sterile cycle of crime and punishment that identifies men as violent offenders and women as helpless victims.

Looking Ahead:

Maybe there are women that want to see Anthony Cailan thrown in jail. Maybe there are others that never want Cailan to open a bottle of wine in a restaurant again. But I think there is a better way to mitigate violence against women without potentially ruining the livelihoods of citizens. This is what I hope a dialogue of repentance will do. I want to see men and women work together unmotivated by greed, power, and sex. In restaurants, owners must dedicate themselves to creating powerful employee networks supported by a diverse group of colleagues passionate about a singular, common goal: to provide comfortable, safe, and inclusive environments conducive to good food, respectful service, thoughtful exchanges, and equitable relationships.