Spanish Wine Syndrome

Twice since I began this blog, someone has told me, “It’s painful to read your entries on red wine. I love the taste. But I can’t drink it; I get a terrible migraine if I take even a sip.” One, a male, said he’d been this way all his drinking life. But the other, a woman about ten years older than I am, told me it had come on suddenly in her mid-40’s. This, I found frightening. So I’ve done some reading on the syndrome, sometimes called Red Wine Headache.

I count myself as lucky that I’m not generally sensitive to wine — especially as I’m a pale-skinned redhead who’s allergic to about a dozen other things, including mushrooms, which I love, and lanolin, one of the greatest natural moisturizers on earth.

I do, however, have to be careful. Every once in a while, a wine will affect me poorly: causing me to feel tired and headachy but making me restless when I do sleep, leaving me listless and dyspeptic the next day. And I can’t even tell you why. . . .

Here’s what I can say: when this does happen, it’s nearly always after an inexpensive Spanish, Portugese, or South American wine made exclusively from Tempranillo or Malbec grapes.

Last night, for instance, I drank a single glass of the Bajoz Tinta de Toro Crianza. It’s an interesting wine: soft on the tongue at first, then full of dark cherry and oak, with such a tannic finish it makes the insides of your cheeks pucker and leaves them dry. Typically, I like a fuller, warmer finish. But the bottle was open, and my husband — who lived in Barcelona for several years — loves a Spanish red.

Today, however, I’m regretting my adventurous, it’ll-be-different-this-time attitude. Though I enjoyed the flavor of the Bajoz Crianza, I felt totally wiped out just 40 minutes after finishing it (which was frustrating, as I’d drunk only one glass because I had a lot to do) and went to bed early but was fitful all night. I slept in a little yet awoke this morning with that dull mallet-to-the-head feeling that I associate not with overindulgence but with certain wines.

Make no mistake: this is in no way an indictment of the Bajoz — any more than my allergy to mushrooms reflects negatively on wild shitakes or morels. I, for some reason, simply don’t respond well to Tempranillo, particularly if its very tannic.

I used to believe it was added sulfites causing my adverse reaction. According to experts, such as this biochemist-turned-winemaker, that simply isn’t the case. And if the problem is indeed a slight tannin or histamine sensitivity, it’s possible I might circumvent it by drinking a cup of black tea (whose bioflavonoids are anti-inflammatory) beforehand.

With so many wonderful wines in the world, it’s not hard to find alternatives. Even four-dollar Chiantis tend to agree with me. But for the sake of science, and the woman I know who can no longer drink red wine, I may try the tea cure on a night when I can afford (in case it doesn’t work) to lose the sleep.