(Claude Auguste)
With Guy Bonnefoit, a man has left the world of wine who today seems like a relic from another era. Not because his work was outdated – quite the opposite. But because the world in which it came into being was different: a time when wine was not discussed as a lifestyle accessory or a moral problem, but simply as what it had been for centuries, almost exclusively: together with water, an accompaniment to food.
Bonnefoit understood wine precisely in this way, and only in this way: as part of meals, as an accompaniment to food. And although he was not the inventor of pairing, he was the one who put thousands of combinations down on paper, thus becoming the archivist of the sommelier schools of the 1970s and 1980s
Born in Paris in 1938, he later lived and worked in Germany for many years. His career took him through the classical school of European hospitality: restaurants, hotels, kitchens, wine cellars. There he learned what many wine experts today scarcely learn any more: not merely to describe wine, but to think of it at the table.
In the gastronomy of the post-war decades, this ability was part of the craft. Sommeliers, restaurant directors and chefs were not looking for the most spectacular wine, but the right wine for the right dish. Wine was part of a dramatic composition, not an end in itself. And Guy Bonnefoit mastered this art brilliantly.
Those who experienced him remember an astonishing precision of perception. For him, aromas were not poetic metaphors, but a vocabulary. He spoke about wine as if he were describing a piece of music: structured, analytical, sometimes almost strict – and yet always with a subtle humour that never quite concealed his French origins.
This attitude culminated in two monumental books which today seem almost like encyclopaedic time machines. In them, Bonnefoit catalogued thousands of wines, analysed their aromas and – crucially – set suitable dishes alongside them. That may sound simple. In reality, it is an intellectual feat of great significance.
Because the combination of wine and food is not a rigid set of rules, but a sensitive interplay of acidity, fat, salt, texture and temperature. Bonnefoit treated this interplay with a seriousness reminiscent of scientific research – and at the same time with the composure of a man who knew that, in the end, enjoyment always remains a question of pleasure too.
Anyone leafing through Bonnefoit's books today is taking a journey into a world that scarcely exists any more: the world of classical gastronomy, in which menus were composed like small symphonies and wine did not stand isolated in the glass, but had its place at the table. This culture has changed.
Today, food is politicised, meat moralised and alcohol problematised. In public debates, wine often appears as part of a health or ideological conflict. The great gastronomic school from which Bonnefoit emerged – that elegant connection between kitchen, cellar and service – has become quieter in many places. Or disappeared altogether. That is precisely why Bonnefoit's books seem so remarkable today, because they remind us that wine was once something other than a lifestyle product or a subject of moral debate. It was part of a cultural practice: people sat together, ate, drank, discussed – and wine connected everything. And Guy Bonnefoit understood this connection better than most.
He tasted tens of thousands of wines in his lifetime, but his true passion was never mere evaluation. He was interested in the moment when a wine and a dish suddenly make each other shine – that moment good sommeliers know, when silence briefly falls at the table because everything suddenly fits together. Bonnefoit believed that the true essence of wine lay in such moments.
Guy Bonnefoit spent his life seeking out, explaining and recording these moments. The fact that his books are still read today is because they are more than wine guides. They are documents of a culture of enjoyment that is increasingly being lost. Perhaps one day they will be rediscovered. For wine, as Guy Bonnefoit knew, has its natural home neither in the tasting room nor on the internet.
It has it at the table.