Fined wine, fining process poses risk to those with milk casein and egg white allergies

I opened a Bookcliff Vineyard newsletter yesterday and perused it as I sipped my morning coffee. The topic was Organic Wines and interested me only peripherally; my wine purchases are limited by my love for black cherries, molasses, dark chocolate and the state of my pocketbook.

However, the following newsletter revelation set my heart to racing...

"Winemakers, us included, use fining agents, which either precipitate out or are removed by filtering the wine. Some of the options for fining are egg whites, casein (milk protein), gelatin, isinglass (derived from fish) and bentonite clay. Whether to use any fining agents is a preference in the style of wine, just as different people are looking for different flavors in the wine."

I had no idea there was such a process as "fining" and verified this reality by googling links listed immediately below this copy. Sure enough, the first one verified what Bookcliff Vineyards had revealed.

"Because many people object to cloudy wine," wisegeek explained, "along with the sediment that is left floating in it, wineries send their wines through a clarification process called fining... Albumen, which is produced from egg whites, is the most common fining agent. Egg whites are typically used in fining red wines...Casein is a milk protein. Casein is also more commonly used in red wines. For someone with a severe milk allergy, it is wise to inquire if the wine they are drinking was fined with casein."

I reached for the phone, to call my son.  Why?  Keep reading!

My father died unexpectedly, less than a year before my son was born. The following summer, Mom wanted us three kids to divide up her treasures; she was uncertain about life and wanted to know her material goods would be distributed without rancor. So, I packed up my two year old daughter and 9 month old son and headed to Minnesota.

Mom was one of those doting and capable grandmothers; I had no qualms about leaving her upstairs with my kids and their cousins, as Craig, Jan and I attempted to unemotionally sort through basement boxes. It was a challenging task, and none of us relished it.

"Barb!" Have you ever heard your name spoken with such sharpness that you appear beside the speaker in an instant? "Robbie's not breathing!"

My brother, a dentist, flew around me, grabbed him from my mother who kept repeating, "We just gave him a little milk!" He raced outside, me at his heels, my sister a step behind. Craig gripped Robbie in a Heimlich and Robbie retched.

"Get in my car!"  I took the now breathing Robbie and collapsed onto my big brother's passenger seat.

Jan dove into the back seat.  I am certain my trembling cheeks were white as my sister's blood-drained face.  I tightened my grip on him.

"We're going to the Emergency!" she called out the window to Mom. "Watch the girls!"

Craig had run into the house momentarily.  He emerged with a knife.  I heard him tell Mom, "I got the sharpest one in the house.  In case I need to do a tracheotomy on the way."

None of us spoke during the fifteen minute drive to North Memorial Hospital. Craig dropped us at the door and I am pretty sure Jan handled the intake questions. We occupied a room and soon, Craig joined us. Very little was said; all eyes were on the little tyke in my arms.

The doctor appeared a bit disconcerted to see so many people in the room, but he got down to business after we shared what we knew of the events leading to this terrifying moment. He did all the expected things: listened to Robbie's breathing; listened to his heart; looked down his throat.

"He is fine; he aspirated his milk, is all." He patted my shoulder as if reprimanding a naughty child. "It happens."

I left the room, humiliated and fuming. When our feet hit the parking lot, I noticed my brother's charcoal grey socks. "He made me sound like an irrational new mom, yet my own brother was in such a panic, he raced to the hospital without putting on shoes! There is more going on here than aspirated milk," I spat. They nodded. I was preaching to the choir.

A Colorado specialist verified that my son was severely allergic to casein and egg whites. "Worst case I've seen," were his exact words.

When the bill from the Emergency Room arrived, I refused to pay it. I wrote a scathing letter to the hospital, explaining how the doctor had made me and my siblings feel ridiculous.  "And he never mentioned the possibility of allergies." They did not send another bill.

Now my 22 year old son, my severely allergic to casein and egg whites and legally able to drink son lives in California, land of wine... and fining.

In the United States, there is no law requiring vineyards to disclose their fining agent. Therefore the only way Rob will ever know whether or not a wine was fined with casein or egg whites is to ask. And even then, he will have to rely on the respondent's honesty.

I like to think this is a reliable concept.

However, wisegeek claims, "Some companies mark their wines unfined as a marketing technique. Currently, there are no laws in place to regulate any claims a winery may make."