After the Children of Israel had left Egypt and approached Canaan, Moses sent twelve spies across the river to explore the Promised Land. When they returned to their encampment to advise Moses, only Joshua and Caleb were in favour of entering the new land. The other spies, however, had not been particularly impressed by what they found, and because they advised against entering the new land, the Israelites began their forty-year trek through Sinai. Fortunately, however, two of the spies had returned with a cluster of grapes and, according to folklore, those grapes yielded enough wine to last the people for their forty years in the wilderness. Nobody today is sure just how that wine tasted. There is a good chance, however, that it was terrible.
Wine has been made in Israel since pre-Biblical times, but, if the truth be known, until recently, there was no reason to be proud of those wines. The wines shipped to ancient Egypt were so bad that they had to be seasoned with honey, pepper and juniper berries to make them palatable, and those sent to Rome and England during the height of ancient Roman civilization were so thick and sweet that no modern connoisseur could possibly approve of them. So bad were most of these wines that it was probably a good thing that the Moslem conquest in AD 636 imposed a 1,200 year halt to the local wine industry.
Even in 1870, when wine production started again, thanks to the aid of Baron Edmond de Rothschild, not all went smoothly, and most of the wine that was produced was red, sweet, unsophisticated and unappealing. In 1875, for example, British Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli was given a bottle of kosher red wine from Palestine. After taking a few sips, Disraeli observed that it tasted ``not so much like wine but more like what I expect to receive from my doctor as a remedy for a bad winter cough''. Well into the 1960s, Israel justifiably suffered from a reputation of producing wines too sweet and too coarse to appeal to knowledgeable drinkers.