AVK for GGG—the beauty of a real cork
Dining, Wine
Two Ways of Wine: France, Italy & the Meaning of a Glass
A cultural guide to working out the difference between the two European winemaking titans
Alexander
Where the French codified their wine—classifying it by geography, controlling the grapes, yields, and methods—the Italians let theirs evolve like dialect.
Introduction: A Tale of Two Traditions
It should be noted in advance, dear reader, that this is not intended as a perfectly academic breakdown. We tend to drink wine, more than talk about it.
That said, we intend this to be a good overview to warm you up to these two wonderful but quite different national philosophies towards a much beloved part of culture & dining in Itakly and France.
France built a hierarchy; Italy grew a garden.
One favors legacy and precision; the other favors expression and place.
Italian wine—like most other things Italian—is rooted in the local, and thus intensely regional: what grows nearby, what pairs with the food, what the grandparents drank. Even the names are inconsistent—sometimes they refer to the grape, sometimes the town, sometimes both. And no one seems especially concerned most of the time.
This is the charm of drinking Italian wine. It doesn’t ask to be decoded. It asks to be tasted, remembered, and tasted again somewhere else.
And yet both approaches offer their own kind of beauty—one architectural, the other organic.
To understand the difference is to understand something essential not just about wine, but about the two cultures that shaped a vast amount of Western dining as we know it.
It's also rather important to understand the largely good-spirited cultural animosity between these two neighbouring nations with regard to their independent traditions.
In general I have found most Italians to be fairly snippy about French wine, with the notable exception of Champagne, which seems to be universally accepted amongst Italians as a fine product, and 'welcome in their homes'.
And the French? Well, they would probably say something similar about parmigiano reggiano.
France vs. Italy: Two Approaches to Wine
To understand why Italian wine is so variable, so personal, and occasionally so confusing, it helps to compare it to the French system that most wine lovers encounter first.
The French Model: Codified & Centralized
France’s AOC (Appellation d’Origine Contrôlée) system is hierarchical and meticulously regulated.
It governs:
Which grapes can be grown in specific regions
How vines are pruned and harvested
Maximum yields per hectare
Minimum aging periods
Labeling and alcohol levels
The assumption is that great wine = specific place + specific method, and this legacy is tightly guarded.
The Italian Model: Regional & Evolving
Italy’s DOC and DOCG systems came later (1960s) and are far more regional, with looser enforcement and a greater tolerance for experimentation.
Key traits:
Wine is often seen as an extension of food, meant to complement local cuisine
Many of the best wines operate outside official classifications (e.g. Super Tuscans)
Naming is inconsistent—wines may be named for grape, region, town, or style
Tradition is hyper-local: what’s “correct” in one village may be (read: probably is) blasphemy in the next.
In short: French wine is about rules and pedigree.
Italian wine is about expression, place, and context.
A Brief History of the Vine: France & Italy Compared
Wine has been made in both places since antiquity, but the paths diverged early.
Italy: A Legacy of Everyday Wine
Viticulture in Italy predates the Romans, with Greek settlers referring to it as Oenotria—the land of vines. This is where we get terms like oenology, oenophile, et cetera. You don't really need to know this though.
Roman conquest helped spread vine cultivation across the empire, but at home, wine was deeply embedded in daily life. It was poured at every meal, diluted with water, or even spiced with herbs. It was not a luxury; it was nourishment.
Italy remained decentralized after the fall of Rome, and so did its wine. For centuries, production was largely local, small-scale, and family-led. There was no national style—just regional expression.
France: A Cultivated, Codified Path
While the Gauls adopted wine from the Romans, it was the Catholic Church, especially monastic orders like the Cistercians, that laid the groundwork for France’s obsession with terroir and order.
By the 12th century, Burgundian monks were already mapping and naming the best parcels of land for grape-growing.
Over time, the French developed not only a wine industry, but a language of wine:
vintage (year of production),
cru (a vineyard or group considered to be of high quality),
appellation (a specific, legally defined geographic area where grapes are grown),
château (literally a house, or estate, which encompasses the grape fields, cellars, et cetera).
In 1935, the AOC (Appellation d’Origine Contrôlée) system formalized it all: rigid rules about what could be planted where, how, and with what label.
In other words: France professionalized what Italy had treated as domestic art.
Reading a Label: Decoding the Differences
France: Place is Everything
Most French wines are named for the place they come from (e.g., Bordeaux, Chablis, Châteauneuf-du-Pape). To know what you’re drinking, you must know what grapes are allowed in that region—and what style is typical.
A bottle that says “Chablis” assumes you know it’s a Chardonnay from Burgundy. “Saint-Émilion Grand Cru” tells you it’s a Merlot-based Bordeaux, made under stricter production rules than its non-cru neighbors. The grape is rarely mentioned. The place carries the identity.
Labels often include:
AOC or AOP designation (Appellation d’Origine Protégée)
Name of the village, vineyard, or château
Vintage year
Possibly the classification (e.g., Premier Cru, Grand Cru)
French wine culture assumes familiarity with geography—and values pedigree, not clarity.
Italy: A Patchwork of Grape and Place
Italian wines may be named for the grape (Barbera), the region (Chianti), the town (Montepulciano), or all of the above (Montepulciano d’Abruzzo). The label may focus on a poetic name that means everything to the family—and nothing to anyone else.
You might see:
The grape (e.g. Barbera, Primitivo)
The region or town (e.g. Chianti, Montalcino)
DOC / DOCG designation (Denominazione di Origine Controllata / Garantita)
Classico (historic production zone)
Superiore (higher alcohol, stricter standards)
A vineyard name or bottler’s name
This inconsistency reflects Italy’s cultural fabric: hyper-local, proudly individualistic, and layered with history.
Ask a local about their wine and you’re likely to hear about the hillside, the soil, the harvest last year, and the cousin who makes a better version two valleys over.
Ask again and you may get a phone number or directions to a meeting place and instructions to bring a two-litre plastic jug to be filled up for a cost you €5 and be one of the best things you drink all year.
And yes—Italian wine can get very glamorous too. Just not always on purpose.
How Wine is Used: Culture at the Table
Again, there are exceptions to everything. This is just a useful lens for understanding broader tendencies.
In France: Performance & Precision
Wine in France is often the centrepiece. It is discussed, appreciated, analyzed. Waiters may pour it ceremonially. Wine lists are curated. The wine list may in fact be a proper book, plunked impresssively down on the table. Pairings are praised.
French wine culture leans cerebral. A perfect match is a kind of intellectual delight.
In Italy: Food First, Wine in Service
In Italy, wine follows the food. It complements the moment—it doesn’t announce itself. It matters whether it fits the dish, the weather, and the company. And it is loved, make no mistake, just perhaps somewhat less academically, on balance.
Vino della casa—the house wine—is rarely glamorous, but often excellent.
It doesn’t need occasion or explanation. Just a clean glass and a full plate.
Glassware, Rituals & What to Expect
France: Designed for the Wine
In France, glassware is not just about aesthetics—it’s about precision engineering for aroma and structure. The belief is that the shape of a glass can enhance, or mute, the essential qualities of a wine: how it opens, where it hits the palate, how long it lingers.
Much of this has to do with the various aromatic compounds found within a wine, and the speed and way in which they evaporate in the form of scents.
Aromatic whites (like Sauvignon Blanc or Riesling) are best served in tulip-shaped glasses that direct the wine toward the tip of the tongue.
Bold reds (like Bordeaux blends) benefit from larger bowls, allowing oxygen to soften tannins and release complexity.
Champagne, once traditionally poured into wide coupes—reputed to mirror the shape of Helen of Troy or Marie Antoinette's breasts, depending on how back one wishes to imagine the inspiration goes—is now more often served in tulip flutes or narrow white wine glasses to preserve its bubbles and highlight its bouquet.
The tasting ritual—swirl, sniff, sip—is not just theatre. It’s tied to a study of the tasting of wine codified in sommelier schools.
French Glassmakers of Note to Look Out For When Dining
Riedel (originally Austrian but dominant in French restaurants)—known for varietal-specific designs
Lehmann Glass (France)—elegant, modern silhouettes often used in Michelin-starred settings
Chef & Sommelier (France)—robust, professional-grade stemware made for hospitality environments
Zalto (Austrian, but beloved in French circles)—ultra-light, hand-blown glass prized for finesse
Italy: Practical, Unpretentious
Italy’s approach is a bit more situational than scientific, much the way Italians tend to dress for the season more than for the weather. Wine arrives however the place you are in serves it. Tumbler, stem, or carafe, from rustic to glamorous. It might be perfect. It might not be. But it will probably be right.
You might find:
A stemmed crystal goblet at a formal tasting
A casual tumbler in a trattoria
A stunning hand-blown chalice in a hilltop agriturismo
Or simply a carafe with nothing but charm
Italian Glassmakers of Note
Bormioli Rocco (Italy)—widely used, durable, and affordable, found in homes and casual restaurants alike
Italesse (Italy)—sleek, modern designs often favored by sommeliers in contemporary wine bars
RCR Cristalleria Italiana (Tuscany)—high-quality lead-free crystal made for both home and also often seen in hospitality use
Murano glassware (Venice)—hand-blown, often colorful and ornate, more decorative than oenological, but deeply traditional, and part of the separate and incredibly famous Venetian glassware tradition.
Wine in Italy isn’t a performance—it’s a presence. One more character at the table.
The Bottom Line: Choose Your Pleasure
France offers structure and symphony. Italy offers variation and warmth. One is architectural. The other is lived-in, be it a lived-in farmer's cottage, or a lived-in palazzo.
Neither of these approaches are intended to be interpreted as absolute statements, nor should they be treated as such. But they will give you a bit of a framework with which to view the experiences that you have, and allow for surprise and familiarity as and when these align or deviate.
So drink accordingly. And unless you’re investing in a cellar: don’t overthink it. Just enjoy yourself.
