Un-dry January
09.01.25
•4 min read
09.01.25
•4 min read
By Tom Banham
To those facing January dry, we salute you. As many as 20% of adults are kicking off 2025 stone-cold sober – or, at least, have told researchers that they're going to try, which is a little different. But we'd like to let you in on a little secret. Dry January is brilliant for those of us who choose not to…not.
An example: every week I try to book a table at my favourite local natural-wine-and-small-plates joint, and every week, I find that I can only get one of their handful of seats at a time that would seriously hamper school pick-up. But in January, with the regulars at home sipping herbal tea, I can book a counter seat in primetime, even if the urge for a pet nat only strikes me that morning. And I can savour it, unsullied by knowing I don't need to give the table back 90 minutes after I'm handed the wine list.
Better still, in January, the owners have time to talk. I love few things more than learning about the favourite wines of people who've made the wonderful choice to set up a business because of how much they love wine; to understand why certain bottles are on the shelves, to hear outlandish stories about visits to their favourite makers, to have them recommend something I'd never have glanced at otherwise.
They do all these things at peak times too, of course (I presume – I can't normally get in). They're professionals. But with constant demands on their time and attention, it can feel like they're looking past you, minds on their next obligation, or their eye drifting to that customer gesticulating in the corner. I find the same thing in wine shops. I did my Christmas shopping late, and while the staff were as patient and generous as ever, they were also keenly aware of the queue of other disorganised drinkers snaking out of the door, some needing gifts, others trying to piece together two mixed cases for every festive eventuality. I was in there for half an hour, attempting the latter, and saw the same bottle of red recommended to everyone who asked for something funky, the same white to everyone who said they were having turkey (I bought both, they were delicious, so no faulting the reccs).
In January, though, you can chat. You can dig a little deeper, learn more about each bottle, about the harvest behind each bottle. Stuff that's infinitely more interesting – for buyer and seller – than which merlot will be gentlest on Aunt Meryl's IBS. And when you chat, you will also discover how, after the slog of working in wine during the holidays, the January landing can be even harder.
Dry January is fantastic for our health, for resetting our relationships with alcohol, for giving wallet and liver a bit of a breather. But for those who make a living from wine, it's brutal. Spend on alcohol drops by half between December and January, and although the long-overdue rise in decent no- and low-alcohol options has helped, it remains a sad fact that no one's cracked alcohol-free wine yet.
But this all presents an opportunity. The bistros are quiet. The wine shops are barren. So rather than join the exodus away from great wine, January is the perfect time to explore. Instead of Dry January, think Try January: a month where you forgo your favourites and instead sample grapes, regions or styles that are unfamiliar. Not only are you guaranteed to discover something you end up drinking all year, this approach also encourages you to drink more mindfully, focusing your tastebuds on what's different, not just more of what they already know.
This can go hand-in-hand with drinking less – perhaps engaging in what marketing folks keep trying to call Damp January. In which case, think less of better; one bottle of really great wine over a weekend, rather than two that are just OK. January is the perfect time to see how much difference spending more actually makes. Especially since, with eto, you can enjoy that budget-stretching bottle for up to two weeks.
Alternatively, there are a plethora of lighter wines whose low ABVs aren't attempts to tap into our recent abstemiousness, but just because that's how they've always been made. Again, your suddenly time-rich local experts will be invaluable here, but in January we like (appropriately) cold-climate whites and oranges, many of which clock in under 10% ABV.
If you are determined to stay dry all January, unless you're planning to hang your corkscrew up for good, there are ways to support the places that you want to still be there come February. Even though you don't intend to drink it immediately, January is a great time to stock your cellar, and not just because of all the advice you'll get. This is the month when great bottles that didn't disappear at Christmas go on sale, and when merchants offer by-the-case discounts that can set you up for months.
You can even use your wine shop as motivation for not drinking. For every week you stay on the wagon, reward yourself with something wonderful to enjoy in February. Then, ask them not to actually hand it over until February. You'll be amazed how knowing you've got four great bottles, waiting for you beneath the counter, strengthens wavering resolve.