This month begins the season of family gatherings, both nuclear and extended, for meals, celebration, and generalized holiday mayhem. Thanksgiving is the first of these family free-for-alls circled on our calendar and offers a prognostication of how the family milieu will proceed for the rest of the season.

Over the years, I’ve noticed that not everyone processes the post-Thanksgiving chaos the same way. Some people are already hanging Christmas decorations before the turkey emerges from the oven. Others have a proverbial conniption at the mere sight of the kitchen carnage in the post-meal aftermath. Overall, it is my belief that there are four distinct post-Thanksgiving personalities that we can augment through complementary wine pairings.

We all know the eternal optimist who genuinely believes everything went great. To them, the political debate at the table was just passionate discussion, the burnt rolls added character, and the gravy spill on the carpet created memories worth repeating at next year’s gathering. They’re already texting about Christmas plans before the taillights disappear down the driveway.

These are the people who pop champagne in celebration of a successful evening, not to cope but to genuinely celebrate what they see as a triumph of family togetherness. They see the best in everything, including family gatherings that the rest of us are still mentally processing with varying degrees of therapy. Their optimism is either a superpower or a coping mechanism so advanced it looks like joy. Either way, the bubbles match their effervescent energy perfectly. We need these people at family gatherings because someone has to genuinely enjoy this, and God bless them for their ability to see gravy stains as cherished memories. For the eternal optimist, reach for Dr. Konstantin Frank 2020 Blanc de Blanc, Finger Lakes New York, ($45), a 100% Chardonnay sparkler that spent 36 months on the lees and delivers the elegance, complexity and craftsmanship their misplaced optimism deserves.

Then there’s the Type-A cleaner who cannot sit down while chaos reigns in their domain. As everyone else collapses on the couch in a turkey-induced stupor, this person is loading the dishwasher with the precision of a Swedish architect, matching lids to Tupperware containers like Marie Kondo, and wiping surfaces that looked perfectly clean three wipes ago. Don’t suggest they relax because this IS how they relax, and order must be restored before any semblance of peace can exist in their world.

You’ve learned over the years to stay out of their way and let them orchestrate their restoration of order. Pour them Whitehall Lane 2023 Sauvignon Blanc, Rutherford Napa Valley, ($45) and set it strategically on the counter where they’re working. They’ll sip between organizational tasks, the high-acid wine cutting through both the chaos churning in their mind and the heavy food sitting in their stomach. It’s clean, bright, and refreshing, just like the kitchen they’re creating; a palate cleanser for both mind and mouth. Watch the tension melt away with each organized wipe of the counter, each sip of something crisp matching the gleaming surfaces taking shape around them. When the kitchen finally meets their exacting standards (and it will, even if it takes until midnight), they’ll survey their pristine domain with the satisfaction of a general surveying conquered territory. With a glass in one hand and the bottle in the other they finally join everyone else for a moment of rest.

Not everyone ends the evening with celebration or compulsive cleaning. Some land in decidedly darker territory, clutching the good bottle they almost opened for dinner until they witnessed the moment that changed everything. Maybe it was watching a well-meaning relative decide that pretty good wine could be even better with a splash or two of Coke. Perhaps it was enduring uncomfortable judgmental interrogations about life choices, or weathering a relentless montage of passive-aggressive comments disguised as loving concern. Whatever the specific trigger, that was the moment the good bottle got pulled from rotation and relocated to an undisclosed location.

Now, with the house finally empty and silence restored, this person slips away to retrieve their hidden treasure from behind the canned beans in the pantry or tucked in the cellar’s darkest corner. They emerge with THAT bottle, the one they’ve been saving, the one that’s too good and too complex to risk on a crowd that clearly doesn’t appreciate the finer points of vinous pleasure.

Pouring it with defiant satisfaction, they give a nod to this proverbial “victory lap in a glass” for the evening’s survival. This wine is bold but elegant with more complexity and nuance than most family members in attendance. Some years require more than philosophical acceptance, demanding something that makes an unambiguous statement about one’s survival. I get this person. Some Thanksgivings I am this person, clutching Ancient Peaks 2021 Pearl Cabernet Sauvignon from Paso Robles Santa Margarita Ranch ($70), and toasting with defiant satisfaction. Most years, however, I try not to be “that guy.”

Most years, I land somewhere else entirely. I find myself in that middle ground between celebration and defiance, where acceptance reigns supreme. I’m the one with shoes off and feet up, surveying the wreckage with neither celebration nor despair. Rather, just the weary acknowledgement of someone who’s been through this particular rodeo many times before. Sure, there were awkward moments. Someone brought up politics despite the pre-dinner agreement. Topics that should’ve stayed buried surfaced anyway, and at least one conversation that should’ve been avoided entirely. What really matters is that nobody died, everyone still loves each other (mostly), and they’re all still speaking, or at least still texting. In my book, that’s a win.

I take the long view because experience has taught me that perspective matters more than perfection. After years of hosting and attending these gatherings, I’ve learned that perfection was never the realistic goal, and making it through with relationships reasonably intact represents the true measure of success.

Pinot Noir has become my post-Thanksgiving personality in liquid form because it’s thoughtful without being heavy, contemplative without sliding into morose territory, and it doesn’t demand anything from me while still rewarding whatever attention I can muster. It’s the wine of acceptance and philosophical perspective, the perfect companion after watching the eternal optimists celebrate their perceived triumph, the cleaners restore order to chaos, and the defiant survivors clutch their victory bottles with justified satisfaction.

I pour myself something that feels like a reasonable compromise between all these extremes, something that acknowledges the chaos without dwelling on it unnecessarily. Alexana Mosaic Pinot Noir, Dundee Hills Oregon, ($45) does exactly that, offering enough elegance to feel special while remaining approachable enough to match the mood of grateful survival.

These four personalities emerge when the last guest finally departs. The eternal optimist is already mentally planning the Christmas menu. The Type-A cleaner can’t rest until order is completely restored. The defiant survivor clutches the bottle they wisely hid from potential mixers. And then there’s that pragmatic middle ground, where survival itself becomes victory.

The beauty of wine is that it meets you wherever you happen to be. Where you land might change dramatically from year to year depending on the seating chart, the family dynamics, or how many invasive questions got asked. Whichever personality emerges tonight, you’ve earned something special.

After all, we’re talking about your “nuclear” family here, and after a day like today, you’ve shown remarkable restraint in not initiating any “launch codes.” Pour that glass you’ve been mentally saving all evening, toast to making it through with minimal emotional fallout, and remember that you don’t have to do this again until Christmas arrives. Though we’re definitely not thinking about that yet. Not until this glass is empty.