I think Thanksgiving is the perfect occasion to break open a

Gavin Newsom, son of California’s soil and bearer of its traditions, once declared: “I think Thanksgiving is the perfect occasion to break open a buttery, oaky Chardonnay from California.” Though his words speak of wine, they echo with something greater—the union of place, heritage, and celebration. For wine is never only a drink; it is the distilled essence of the land, the climate, the labor of farmers, and the patience of time itself. To pair such a wine with Thanksgiving, a feast of gratitude, is to acknowledge that the gifts of the earth and the hands of men meet together in one sacred offering.

The origin of this sentiment lies in the story of California itself. Long before Newsom was governor, he was a vintner, steeped in the culture of Napa Valley, where Chardonnay has been raised to glory. The buttery richness and oaky depth of such wines speak not only of California’s terroir but of a people who have labored to perfect it. In his words, Newsom draws a connection between the American harvest festival and the fruit of American soil, inviting us to see that Thanksgiving is not merely about turkey and stuffing, but about celebrating the bounty of the land in all its forms.

History is filled with examples where wine marked sacred moments of gathering. In ancient Greece, the symposium was a place where wine and conversation became tools for philosophy, poetry, and unity. In the Jewish tradition, wine sanctifies the Sabbath and festivals, symbolizing joy and divine blessing. In medieval Europe, feasts were incomplete without the cup that brought warmth and fellowship. So too in America, a bottle of California Chardonnay at Thanksgiving is more than indulgence—it is a continuation of humanity’s ancient tradition of toasting gratitude, life, and togetherness.

The deeper meaning of Newsom’s reflection lies in the balance of earthly labor and spiritual gratitude. The vines of California require the care of farmers, the patience of vintners, and the rhythms of the seasons. Their fruit is transformed through fermentation into something greater than itself, a drink that carries the story of the land within every glass. When such a wine is poured at Thanksgiving, it becomes a symbol: that all labor, when met with gratitude, becomes sacred, and all harvests, when shared, become holy.

Consider also the symbolism of Chardonnay itself. Buttery and rich, it mirrors the abundance of Thanksgiving foods; oaky and deep, it recalls the roots of tradition. Its complexity speaks of life itself—sometimes light, sometimes heavy, yet always layered with meaning. Just as wine ages into maturity, so too do family traditions deepen with time, becoming richer as they are passed down. To share a bottle is to share not only flavor but story and memory.

The lesson for future generations is this: honor the fruits of your land and the labor of your people. Do not see food and drink as mere consumption, but as a reflection of history, culture, and gratitude. A meal becomes greater when it remembers the earth from which it came and the hands that prepared it. When you lift a glass at Thanksgiving—whether wine, cider, or water—do so with awareness that you are participating in an ancient ritual of gratitude and unity.

Practical wisdom flows from Newsom’s words. Celebrate your local abundance. If you live in California, pour a Chardonnay; if elsewhere, share the harvest of your own region, whether it be apples, grains, or wines of your soil. Teach your children that to eat and drink with gratitude is to connect to both the past and the present. And when you gather at your table, let every cup raised be more than a toast—let it be a reminder that life, like wine, is sweetest when shared.

Thus, Gavin Newsom’s reflection becomes more than a comment on wine—it becomes a teaching of heritage and gratitude. Thanksgiving is indeed the perfect occasion to honor the bounty of the land, to pair the labor of man with the gifts of nature, and to lift a cup in thanks. Let us then not only eat and drink, but remember that in every bite and every sip, we are tasting the story of our people, our land, and the blessings we have been given.