It all starts in the tree bark from which corks are produced. The problem arose from certain types of fungicides and insecticides, which were used in the 1950s-1908s. The interaction between these and the fungi naturally within the tree bark, creates TCA.

It’s very difficult to identify which part of the tree has been affected so when the tree’s bark is harvested TCA can be lingering under the surface. TCA wouldn’t be such a problem if wine was closed with metal stoppers but many wine producers use tree bark for corks and unknowingly these corks might contain TCA. Now you know that this problematic compound originates in the bark, you can’t blame that damp smell on poor storage conditions or bottle age.

Your nose is the most important sense when it comes to sniffing out cork taint. This is why it’s vital you smell wine before you taste. Damp cardboard, wet newspapers, a musty attic, wet dog are all smells associated with a corked wine. The smell can be faint, present but in some instances it will knock you sideways. This variation in strength is where doubt steps in. No corked bottles are the same so you can start to second guess yourself! ‘Is it actually corked?’, ‘Maybe it’s fine?’, ‘Oh, let’s just drink it’, ‘It doesn’t smell that bad!’. Corked bottles are where wine confidence crumbles, but if you think something is very slightly off, it probably is. Back yourself!

One thing to note is if a wine doesn’t taste good or it smells bad, cork is not always the issue. For example, a vinegary taste usually indicates a wine has oxidised. A whiff of nail varnish remover is a sign of volatile acidity. Boiled cabbage might suggest the wine has suffered from light strike (an unfortunate side effect of using clear glass bottles). It’s a jungle out there but try to pinpoint the exact aromas. If it’s musty, it’s usually corked.

TCA is what creates these musty, damp aromas, leaving wines very unpleasant to drink. TCA is harmless so you won’t get ill, but the wine is ruined. Sadly, the only place a corked wine should go is down the drain. Some say you can cook with corked wine but would you want to? There isn’t anything harmful about corked wine but I doubt it would do your Boeuf Bourguignon any good. TCA has rank effects on aroma but it also mutes flavours,so if you’re using wine to add to your dish, you wouldn’t use corked wine. Personally, I really don’t like the idea of mouldy wine in my food.

In the early days of my career, I’d often wonder whether cheaper bottles were more likely to be affected. You might assume that a cheaper wine would have a cheaper cork but TCA is so unpredictable it can end up in any cork. I’ve witnessed the opening of some incredibly expensive wines with the host to be met with the utter despondency of a corked bottle. There is never a more depressing sight, especially if the bottle is expensive, old or one-of-a-kind. Pouring the entire contents of a bottle of wine down the drain down the sink is a horrible and unnatural feeling. However, it must be done. You can’t un-cork a corked wine. Sadly, once TCA has contaminated the wine, there’s no going back.

I once heard that some people are immune to the TCA small. I guess you could compare it to Harry Potter. Some are born muggles and some are born wizards. I don’t want to blow my own trumpet but I can smell even the smallest hint. Did someone say Hermione Granger? I can’t find anything conclusive on this fact but it is true that some people will experience the smell to a much higher or lower degree. TCA inhibits our senses so some might not be able to smell anything at all.

The big question remains if cork taint exists why do producers use corks at all? Corks are ever so slightly porous so they allow tiny amounts of oxygen to interact with the liquid. Over time, this micro-oxygenation is beneficial to a wine’s development. Secondly, there’s the prestige of corks. Even in today’s diverse wine market, the common misconception that bottles with corks are ‘better’ than their screw top counterparts still prevails. Corks long pre-date screw caps so there is an element of the latter being the ‘new kid on the block.’ Corks are old school, traditional and are associated with the great wines of Bordeaux, Burgundy and Barolo. It’s really hard to get this out of your head when you’re buying wine.

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Screw caps have zero chance of containing TCA because they are made of metal, not bark. To eliminate the chance of a corked bottle, screw caps are the best option but I can’t see them overtaking corks in traditional winemaking areas. Yet, even the most stubborn have swapped out corks for the entry level wines. These wines are easy drinking, and are made to be drunk early. Picpoul is a good example. Due to its low price point, thousands of bottles are drunk and screw caps enable easier access. Generally, Picpouls aren’t designed to age so the slow oxygenation that cork allows isn’t relevant. Think how many bottles of Picpoul are served in restaurants and bars up and down the country! Bar staff don’t have the wherewithal to deal with corked bottles.

I’ll end with Diam corks because they symbolise cork’s evolution. Named after the French company that makes them, these new corks are high tech. Diam corks are made up of ground natural cork that has been purified with CO2 to eliminate TCA. You’d think eliminating TCA would be a job well done but the technology doesn’t stop here. Diam corks are created with specific, controlled oxygen transmission rates so as a producer, you can choose how much oxygen can interact with your wine. With the entry of Diam onto the market, perhaps corked bottles will fade into obscurity? I hope so because I simply hate the smell of wet cardboard!

It’s in my free time that I research interesting grape varieties, taste new wines and travel to wine regions. My mission is to keep sharing these adventures and discoveries with you for as long as possible through this newsletter. If you’d like to support me, you can donate any amount via the button below. I’d be forever grateful.

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I don’t want to say the summer is over but sorry, it is. September is coming and there’s something oddly comforting about this month. It’s the start of another school year, time to invest in a new pencil case and maybe a gym membership. Unlike January, which always feels pious, September is hopeful. It’s the time to try something new.

Join me on Friday 18th September for an informal, walk around tasting surrounded by beautiful paintings by the brilliant artist, Lara Robinson. This is the perfect opportunity to learn a few things after a long, hot summer.

Lara Robinson is a classically trained contemporary artist who takes her inspiration from the beaches of Cornwall and the rolling hill of the countryside. Lara has held three solo shows in London and most recently, she was commissioned by the R&A to be the official artist for The Curtis Cup 2024. I’m thrilled to collaborate with her at her most recent show, ‘A Better View.’ She’s a young talent and her colourful paintings make for a vivid backdrop to my wines.

Having studied History of Art, I always felt my transition into wine was a logical next step. There’s a lot of connective tissue between styles in art to styles in wine so I feel very happy to be able to talk about wines in the presence of paintings!

I will take you through three pairs of wines, explaining key differences and answering any burning questions. It will be an interactive, relaxed evening and you will leave with a clearer understanding of what you like and why.

Post-work on a Friday evening - what better time to taste some wines, chat with your friends to see in the weekend?

Hosted @ 54 The Gallery, Shepherd Market, London, W1J 7QX

Date - Friday 18th September

Time - 18:00-20:00

Price - £25 per person

You can buy tickets here.

We would love to see you there!

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One of the wine world’s most iconic wines is Lopez de Heredia’s Vina Tondonia Blanco. It used to be inexpensive for what it is but as with most special wines, the world cottoned on. Whatever stock you can find is now massively inflated due to the secondary market’s demand. I witnessed this wine’s price evolution firsthand. As salespeople at a famous merchant, we would often sell wines we could never dream of buying. 1st Growth Bordeaux from the 90s, Grand Cru Burgundy and chunky Napa Cabernets were flying out the door. We were selling them, but we weren’t able to slot them into our own cellars. However, there were a few wines that we could afford that even the most flashy of collectors would covet. I call these Easter Eggs. They are the wines that elicit an immediate reaction when scanning a cellar list. ‘You have a case of that?, ‘Nice!’ or, ‘How did you buy that?’.

Tondonia Blanco is one of these wines. Always packaged in wooden three bottle cases, this golden white wine encased in a clear bottle, wrapped in a wire cage, was somewhat of a quirk when I first started selling wine. Why was it so yellow? Was the wire cage a gimmick? If you were a Spanish wine fanatic (there weren’t many of these!) you’d cry out for a case but mostly, it was staff that bought cases. We were in the know and we liked it that way! The price wasn’t expensive so even on modest wine trade salaries, most of us could put our hands up for a case.

I’m so glad I did because I’ve never had the opportunity to buy again. Lopez de Heredia now wants to keep new releases of Tondonia Blanco out of the greedy mits of private clients. They allocate this particular wine mainly to restaurants now. They want their wines to be drunk rather than flipped for a quick buck on merchants’ exchanges.

Tondonia Blanco is a white Rioja but it couldn’t be more different than the commercial style of white Rioja we see on today’s shop shelves. The colour is the first tell that you’re dealing with a different beast. The ochre hue is a sign of the oxidative style of winemaking that sets this wine apart. Long ageing in environments where oxygen can interact with the liquid is a traditional red Riojan winemaking style. Oak barrels are porous allowing oxygen in and subtle flavours are imparted too. This slow contact with oxygen changes a wine’s colour too. This winemaking tradition was also used for the white wines from this region but this style has disappeared. Now, it is only Lopez de Heredia who is keeping the flame alive.

By using the same oxidative method for both their red and white wines, they are simply making their life easier. They continue generational winemaking where others have forgotten about it all together. They haven’t reinvented the wheel, in fact, they were keeping that old fashioned, wooden wheel turning. Aren’t the most revolutionary things often the simplest?

Tondonia Blanco is made from Viura grapes, which are then aged for a decade in oak barrels. Once bottled, they hold onto the bottles for another few years pre-release. In 2020, I was buying bottles of 2012 so you can see the lengths they go to achieving the perfect, aged white Rioja. They have very large cellars but you can see why oxidative White Rioja is not a very commercial style of wine. Perhaps that is why it has died a death.

It’s true that you won’t see many golden white Rioja on the market. This style of White Rioja is a rare beast. Most of the mainstream producers based around the town of Haro ditched this oxidative style in favour of a more neutral, refreshing and conventional style. Did the oxidative style fall out of favour due to the rise of crisp wines like New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc? Or, did it become too labour intensive and expensive? Making white wine conventionally is cheaper because your rarely use oak barrels and you don’t have to sit on the stock. The wines can be made, settled in stainless steel vats and packed off to market almost immediately. In tough times, you can see why producers such as La Rioja Alta, Muga and Roda turned their back on oxidative whites. Every time I taste Tondonia Blanco I wish that there were more wines that could compete.

There is one other white Rioja that I would put into the ring with Tondonia Blanco. CVNE’s Monopole Classico Reserva Blanco is another Easter egg. Made in small quantities, it is a very special wine. Both Tondonia Blanco and Monopole Classico Reserva uphold winemaking traditions that might have been lost forever.

CVNE, a family owned estate like Lopez de Heredia, revitalised an old recipe. Unlike Tondonia that continued tradition, CVNE brought a ghost back to life. In 2014, the family called the old winemaker who was making CVNE wines in the 1970s. Using his memory, they hatched a plan to recreate Monopole Classico Riserva for modern drinkers. You can’t beat commitment to the classics.

The easiest way to describe this wine is to take you to Jerez. Monopole Classico Riserva uses Rioja’s classic grape variety, Viura, but ages it under flor (read this for the lowdown on flor). A period of ageing under flor creates layers of nutty, sherry-like aromas in the finished wine. The large, 500l barrels are shipped from Jerez specially to age this wine. On the nose, there is a subtle-sherry note, like you’ve walked past someone drinking a glass of Fino. Sherry hovers over the top of a peachy, elderflower white wine. Viura is a rather bland grape so I find the sherry-influence a much needed improvement. You might think this wine sounds mad but it is sublime and such a wonderful example of how exciting traditional white riojas can be.

Where’s the petition to bring more of these traditional white Rioja wines back? I’d sign it every time.

Flesh - David Szalay (published 2025)

I am always nervous to start a book that comes with ‘you must read this’ memos. With Flesh, it wasn’t just one recommendation it was five. One recommendation came from a fellow book worm, who said she’d hadn’t stopped thinking about it since. These are big shoes to fill. Would I have the same reaction? Or, even worse, would I find it just fine?

A recent trip away, without my daughter meant I had entire days to read so, I opened Flesh and gave it my whole attention. There are a few spoilers here so I would suggest you grab a copy of Flesh now and a glass of wine and then read this.

Flesh is a novel that follows the life of one man, from adolescence to old age. The people he meets and events that occur propel and derail him in equal measures. Flesh begins with our protagonist, István, as a teenager. He’s growing up in a rural area of Hungary in what seems a place with little opportunity or entertainment. Without much colour or adjectives, we spend time with this teenage boy and his desires. A relationship with a much older woman is an example of Szalay launching us into an uncomfortable situation, which recurs throughout the book. This is the start of many things that are done to István. The first chapter ends with an incident, which changes the course of István’s life.

Each section of the book starts with a time jump so you have to find your feet. It takes a sentence or two to work out where you are and how much time has passed. It’s a great technique because it eliminates the boring parts of a character’s evolution. We skip through years of his life, landing on parts Szalay finds interesting. We are taken on a night out in Budapest after István leaves the army. We accompany him leaving his night shift as a bouncer in London. We watch his odd relationship with an older man that has shades of Pretty Woman about it. The early sections of the book lead up to his stint as a driver for the Nyman family. As an immigrant, István finds himself part of the tapestry of London’s elite, living himself in a townhouse in Chelsea driving a rich but empty woman around. It doesn’t take long for Helen Nyman to start sleeping with István. The trope of a wealthy woman sleeping with her driver is explored in a different way. Instead of the usual calculating, ‘I’m sleeping with you for your money’, István seems baffled by her most of the time. The affair turns into marriage and a child and a gear shift in István’s fortunes and status.

Even though István is the main character, we don’t totally understand why he does things. His life feels like riding a wave, a massive one and he didn’t know when to get off. The end of the book is tragic, with a life event occurring that nearly destroys him. He goes from suits and country houses to living with his mother and working back in security. It’s a fast-paced book with certain chapters having a thriller-like aspect. I couldn’t work out if I was rooting for István but after finishing the book, I did feel some sort of attachment for him. He was a blank canvas on which I could imagine my responses to his situations.

Desire and adolescence are explored in multiple ways throughout the book. First, with István as a teenager and secondly with István’s relationship with his young son, Jacob. There’s a great scene where Jacob is acting shifty in the garden. When István asks him to come inside, he notices Jacob has something stuffed up his jumper. After Jacob runs off and dumps the contraband, István finds it. Jacob was carrying an old porn magazine and István has to consider desire and adolescence all over again. This time in the shape of his young son.

It’s a short book with big moments. This book could have been a Demon Copperhead, a 500-pager but somehow a whole life is described without many words! Szalay writes sparsely, but the plot is propulsive. Some of the dialogue is so brief I found myself thinking ‘is this good?’ but the more I read the more I realised his style is genius, and truly unique. I felt hollow after I finished because of how small life actually is. István’s journey is a heightened tale of social mobility, immigration and loss. He’s a passive person but I’m still thinking about his life’s story.

Now I’m telling you. You must read Flesh.

2014 Barolo, Bricco Delle Viole, G.D Vajra

To pair alongside this pacy book, I picked a bottle from my cellar. I’ve mentioned before the perks of building a wine collection. Whether you spend thousands or just buy a few bottles to sit for a few years, you will never regret it. This bottle came from a six-bottle case I bought four years ago. I placed a bid on BBX (Berry Bros’ marketplace) and won - an incredible feeling in itself! It’s twelve years old but you wouldn’t call it aged. It’s beginning to show the charming, side-eye wrinkles you get when you enter your mid-30s. There’s a long way to go!

This Barolo is perfect. I haven’t tasted many wines recently that have stopped me in my tracks but this wine did just that. Like Flesh, it’s an outstanding example of its category.

With time, Nebbiolo’s famous tannins have softened. They swish around my mouth like a piece of silk, wafting in the wind. Flavours of dried rose petals, strawberries and tea leaves marry together so perfectly you’d think they were all one flavour. The colour has turned to garnet, like an old ruby ring. It’s a silky wine with huge amounts of depth. It’s exactly the wine I want to drink when reading. It makes you think.

Vajra are a long-standing producer, based just outside of the village of Barolo. Unlike many Barolo wines, which are blends of grapes from different vineyards, this wine is a single vineyard wine. Bricco delle Viole is a celebrated vineyard and produces strong, firm wines. I believe this could age for another decade but it’s drinking so nicely now, I will not wait to open my other bottles!

It’s in my free time that I research interesting grape varieties, taste new wines and travel to wine regions. My mission is to keep sharing these adventures and discoveries with you for as long as possible through this newsletter. If you’d like to support me, you can donate any amount via the button below. I’d be forever grateful.

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A recent trip to Marrakesh showed me that it’s not just Provence making pale pale rosé. Morocco is nailing it too. I hadn’t done a lot of research (fiction and sleeping were higher on the agenda) but two wine-related things became apparent during the trip. Morocco makes refreshing, clean rosés and Tandem Syrah is the wine to try.

In Morocco, rosé is known as Vin Gris. This translates to grey wine, which isn’t the greatest tagline but with a roll of the tongue, Gris sounds nice. Vin Gris is made in the way all rosé wines are made. Red grapes are pressed on arrival into the winery, so the colour in the skins is kept to a minimum. Some producers will let the grapes sit on their skins for longer than others but how dark you want the colour to be will dictate this. However, the aim with Vin Gris is to have as little colour as possible. It’s true that the colour of Gris wines is less pink, more transparent or grey. To most, these wines look like rose but to the trained eye, it’s ever so slightly different. The producers of Vin Gris will press their red grapes immediately on arrival into the winery, as they actively want to avoid colour. These wines will have little to no skin contact. The grapes used for Vin Gris’ are Cinsault, Grenache and Syrah. Cinsault is a perfect grape for rose because it doesn’t offer much colour yet it does add aromatic perfume and freshness.

The best terroir in Morocco makes the most of cooling influences: the Atlas mountains and the Atlantic Ocean. These act as temperature moderators, keeping the acidity in the grapes high. I’m not sure the wines would be any good without them. Meknès is the wine region to look out for.

Even though Morocco is a Muslim country, French influence is ingrained. Everyone at our hotel was French except a few English families and the cuisine, in some places, has a heavy french accent. Under French colonial rule in the 19th and 20th centuries, winemaking, amongst other trades, became more established. During this time more wine was being produced and the quality improved. Even though many regions make rosé, you can’t really think about a pink wine without also thinking of France. It makes sense that one of Morocco’s major wine styles echoes a french classic.

Vin Gris is a style of wine unique to Morocco but it is pretty much identical to the very pale wines from Provence. Crisp, clean with hints of red berries, overall, fruit flavours are usurped by clean lines. The key here is to refresh. Too much flavour is an obstacle to hydration! I was surprised at how impressively cool the Vin Gris wines were in the face of such hot temperatures. Yet, I have not returned from my trip, looking up what Vin Gris’ I can buy in London. The lack of flavour means they leave very little long term impact. In some of the wines I tried, I couldn’t shake the flavour of fizzy sweets. They aren’t perfect, and they are certainly not ‘thinking’ wines but they suit a time and place.

During our trip, the temperature rose to 38 degrees, so we barely drank anything else. However, there was one wine that haunted me. One wine that said ‘drink me’ when scouring restaurant wine lists. This wine is Tandem, a Syrah, born out of a French and Moroccan collaboration. This wine was the only recommendation from a former colleague who knows her stuff. In a sea of top level wines from Europe, it feels like Tandem is the only cult wine of Morocco.

Tandem is a collaboration between the late Alain Graillot and Domaine des Ouleb (situated in the Benslimane region of Morocco, north east of Casablanca). The story goes that Graillot, while on a cycling holiday, discovered this domaine and a partnership was born. I can’t imagine anything I’d rather do less than sweat my way around Morocco on a bike, but the trip clearly made an impression on Graillot because he named the wine Tandem. The choice of grape variety wasn’t random as Graillot is an established name in France’s northern Rhone. This is an area of France where Syrah is king. Known for black peppery, stony Crozes-Hermitage wines, Graillot knows what he’s doing when it comes to Syrah. The combination of French technique with African terroir is fascinating. The sommeliers of Marrakesh’s sceney restaurants clearly think so too. The price for Tandem on wine lists was crazy! Over £70 per bottle in one restaurant. Unable to find it by the glass and unwilling to fork out the cost of a dinner on a bottle of wine, I left Morocco tandem-less.

On return to the UK, my curiosity got the better of me and I managed to track down a bottle. When I say manage, I actually found it quite easy. Yapp Brothers are selling Tandem Syrah for £21 per bottle but the trusty Wine Society has it for £16. There were a few other listings online too, which left me scratching my head further. I assumed I’d be able to drink Tandem, in its origin country, for less. Yet, it’s much much cheaper for me to buy it in the UK. The celebrity status that Tandem has created price hikes in Marrakesh’s restaurants. Tourists don’t have the luxury of choice, like you would in London, so you might well pay a steep price for Morocco’s cult label. Everyone has to make a living but it did feel like a missed opportunity to not be able to drink it in situ.

What transpired was a heatwave in the UK to rival Marrakeche in late May so I felt there was no better time to crack open my bottle of Tandem Syrah.

Here’s how it tasted:

Flavours of macerated black cherries, hints of cacao and cracked black pepper. Silky on the palate, grainy tannins but in a good way. Plummy flavours but elegant even though Syrah can come in hot. It really took me to the lower slopes of the Northern Rhone. The more approachable wines of St Joseph and Crozes Hermitage. I want to say there’s Moroccan spice but I think that’s situational bias! It’s simply a very delicious red wine that’s refreshing but not too light. I can really feel the French influence but knowing this wine is made in Morocco gives it an unusual edge, which I like!

To finish, here are a few other highlights from the trip. You can’t go wrong with any Vin Gris wines, which was available at all of them!

Sahbi Sahbi - a restaurant run entirely by women with interesting dishes and excellent lighting.

La Grand Cafe de la Poste - aside from absolutely ginormous portions, this place is a classic. The interiors are Gatsby-esque and the service is excellent.

Petanque Social Club - hidden behind a door lies the buzz of Petanque Social Club. We just had drinks here but it was a great setting with excellent people watching!

Jnane Tamsna - beautiful grounds, unique architecture and the best food I ate. This is such a lovely hotel to spend a day at.

Beldi Country Club - larger and busier than Jnane Tamsna but ten minutes from the airport and you feel like you’re in another world.

It’s in my free time that I interview interesting people, research grape varieties, taste new wines and travel to wine regions. My mission is to keep sharing these adventures and discoveries with you for as long as possible through this newsletter. If you’d like to support me, you can donate any amount via the button below. I’d be forever grateful.

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Clem Haxby is Director of Product at The Salad Project. She is also an expert baker, a cookbook writer and a trained PT. She does it all! Before salads, she worked in wine and I wanted to know how her passion for wine started and how it interacts with her current day-to-day.

Clem, first and foremost you are director of product at The Salad Project but before that you were worked in the wine trade. How did you first get into wine?

My first job after leaving university was in marketing but I quickly realised that corporate life wasn’t for me. I had always been interested in food, and during my first job, I’d completed a nutrition degree on the side, so when I left, I invested my savings in the 12-week course at Ballymaloe Cookery School. Alongside all the cooking, each week there would be an additional seminar on something food-adjacent. One of these subjects was wine and from the off, I was hooked.

Like you, I studied History of Art and I found there was crossover. In wine, like in art, there are styles, producers and movements. Over the course of the cooking course, I found myself leaning more into the wine side. My fellow students would come to me for wine-related questions and I even won the much-coveted wine prize (the prize was a bottle of wine and a book but still!). I left Ballymaloe with many news skills but the lasting effect was my passion for wine.

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What made you give it a go as a career?

After Ballymaloe, I took a risk and started my own bakery but the prospect of a career in wine lingered. I continued to read all the books and I passed the WSET Level 2 and 3 but my new business had to take priority. A year or so later, a friend shared a LinkedIn post from a guy called Tom, who was looking for someone who had experience in start-ups, marketing and wine to help with his new project, Sociovino. I was shocked - this job sounded like it was made for me! I couldn’t shake my interest in wine so I interviewed and got the job.

Sociovino sells wines directly to consumers and when I joined it was a baby, so I did a bit of everything. One day I would be packing orders in the warehouse and the next I would be pitching menus to chefs for food and wine pairings. This variety has put me in such good stead for what I’m doing now. Sociovino’s focus is Italian wine so I learnt a lot about Italy’s regions. I’ll never forget my time at Sociovino because I realised that wine could be a career. Before this, I didn’t really know anything about the wine trade. I knew you were working at Berry Bros. but apart from that I went in blind.

What made you give it up?

It was one of the hardest professional and personal decisions to leave Sociovino. Tom and I had become lifelong friends and it felt like an impossible situation to leave him and also my dream of working in wine. You work in wine for the love of it, rather than the money. I tried to not let the money side of it bother me but sadly, it’s a factor that can’t be ignored, especially as you get older.

Way before I became involved with Sociovino I had met the two founders of The Salad Project. I was in talks with them to help on the food side of the business, but Covid came and the long lockdowns, which pushed their opening date right back. In this gap, I started to work for Sociovino but when the time came for them to open their first store, they got back in touch. When The Salad Project offer came through, I felt it was the right decision to take the job. I was gutted to leave Sociovino but looking back it was the right call.

What’s amazing about you is that you kept your wine dream alive, even after just starting a new job! Tell me about Vinomenal? What was the motivation behind setting it up?

Vinomenal is my wine club for phenomenal women who want to learn more about wine, in a friendly, fun setting. I host tasting events every few months, which touch on different themes and I even get a few guests in to co-host too. The idea was born out of the positive experience I had hosting a women’s wine event for Sociovino. I loved the event so much that I thought ‘why can’t I keep doing this?’. So I did.

Vinomenal gave me an excuse to keep learning. I could keep skin in the game. Even if I was seriously busy at The Salad Project, I found carving out time to research the wines I was showing very nourishing. There have been times when it’s stressful! What usually happens is I plan a Vinomenal event months in advance and in the run up, it would just so happen that we would end up opening a new store the next day. I often have a lot of plates spinning!

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Vinomenal events are usually women-only events. How do you find this affects the overall atmosphere and how you teach?

It’s funny you should mention this because my recent Beaujolais Nouveau Vinomenal event was open to men but only three men came (one of which was Tom and the other my fiance!). Try as I might, it seems to work better as a women-only event. Through the tastings, a lovely community has emerged and I wonder if that’s because the event is for women. I also find that my communication style is more suited to women. This might sound odd but I’d compare myself to orange squash. I’m concentrated and full on and I find women respond to this better than men.

What has been your biggest lesson from organising and hosting the events?

Finding the balance between technical information and creating a fun environment is challenging. You don’t want people leaving thinking ‘that was fun but I didn’t learn much’ but you also don’t want the event to be a lecture. I have been to some wine events that are just too basic and because I am a self-identifying nerd, I do like to get into the technical side of wine.

Experience has shown that I need to find the right balance because every group is different. I find snappy facts work better than a deep dive into diurnal temperature ranges!

Does wine ever intersect with your day job?

Sadly, no. My colleagues are very supportive of Vinomenal and there are talks for me to host an event for all the women who work across The Salad Project (there’s nearly 100 female employees across all stores so I’m not sure how this would work!). In a way, I like keeping my wine interest separate. It’s nice to have my own thing.

Does wine pair well with salad?

Yes, I think it does! Most of the salads I created for my book have so many ingredients so there’s always something that can be paired with wine. When the book was in its early stages, with ideas floating around, a colleague suggested a wine pairing for each salad. While I loved the idea as a creative exercise, I didn’t think the publishers would go for it!

From a wine perspective, how do you keep learning?

I’m a big ‘study’ person and I often bury myself in courses and reading as a way to feel confident. My goal this year is to taste more. I don’t feel I’m exploring enough by reading a book so I need to open more bottles! My brother has recently become interested in wine so luckily, I have someone to share the bottle shopping with. It’s really important to find likeminded friends who want to open and try wines. Tasting doesn’t work with friends who aren’t interested.

Would you ever want to do something wine-related in the future?

I adore wine. It remains my passion and one day, I’d love to make it a more permanent fixture in my life. Tom, from the Socivino days, is still such a good friend and we often discuss, over a few glasses of wine, the idea of doing something wine-related together. The fun thing is, I really don’t know what that would be. I do feel strongly that we need to find a way of educating young people so we don’t end up with a generation that doesn’t drink wine. We owe it to the many wine producers in the world. They have global warming to contend with. The least we can do is ensure Gen Z loves tasting interesting bottles!

Any favourite wine shops I should be popping into?

Charlie’s Drinks Store on Upper Street is a new discovery. I really like their selection. My local spot is Highbury Vintners. Stationed on my cycle route home, I can’t resist popping in there a few times a week. Book Bar in Islington is a fun spot too.

What are you drinking these days?

My time at Sociovino started my obsession with the wines of Northern Italy. I have a dog called Barolo and we are travelling to Piedmont for our honeymoon - enough said! I love the elegance of Nebbiolo and the fact that it makes me think. I don’t want to drink wines that are purely fruity, I want more and Nebbiolo always has the edge.

If we travel right down to the very south of Italy, I also love the wines from Mount Etna. Again, there’s a freshness in the wines that I find suits my palate. Last year, I spent two weeks in California and I thought the wines from Sonoma and Napa were so refined. The best thing about travelling is your eyes open up to unfamiliar regions. Before the trip, I would never have looked at the USA section in a wine shop but now I do.

Thank you Clem for answering my questions.

You can find Clem and Vinomenal Wine Club on Instagram: clementines_kitchen and vineomenal_wineclub.

Her book, The Salad Project: How to build unlimited salads, is available now.

It’s in my free time that I interview interesting people, research grape varieties, taste new wines and travel to wine regions. My mission is to keep sharing these adventures and discoveries with you for as long as possible through this newsletter. If you’d like to support me, you can donate any amount via the button below. I’d be forever grateful.

Buy me a coffee (or a bottle!)

Buy me a coffee (or a bottle!)

Yes, that’s right I have a new favourite region. Like a new love interest, the Rhône has played the long game, watching from afar while I flirted with the competition. I’ve gone through a Nebbiolo stage, a South African Chenin Blanc obsession but finally, I think I might have found my long term love. The Rhône is a region in France that is more famous for its red wines and while I like the whole package, today I want to explain why Rhône whites might just be my favourite part. The white wines from this region are hard to pin down due to the variety of grapes used and winemaking styles but this is why I love these white wines. I never quite know what I’m going to get but I do know that these whites usually sit slap bang in the middle between rich and aromatic. Tired of the grassiness of Sauvignon Blanc? Bored of buttery Chardonnay? White Rhônes combine elements of both therefore solving the problem of ‘what do I feel like drinking tonight?’

They are neither light nor too heavy. They have the right amount of oiliness that coats the mouth. Acidity sits quietly in the background, allowing the body to shine. It’s the weight of these wines that make them sing. The aromas mesh together reminding me of orchards and freshly mown grass but it’s never too much. I often pick out flavours of orange blossom, jasmine, almonds and the trays of apricots, which you see in a french market but they hum rather than shout. White Rhônes are textural. The best examples I’ve tried are thick but subtle. They are far away from the zing of Riesling or the perfume of Gewurztraminer. They are the middle child of the big wine family. They have the ability to sit quietly, taking everything in. They don’t make a fuss and it’s only in adulthood that you realise they are your favourite child!

The wine region of the Rhône is situated in the Rhône valley (you’ve left Burgundy but you’re not quite in Provence). The Rhône region straddles bright spring days and searingly hot summers. Within the region, there are two sub regions that contain many AOCs (Appellation d’origine contrôlée). The split is geographical with the Northern Rhône producing 100% Syrah red wines and white wines made from blends or single varietal expressions of Marsanne, Roussanne and Viognier grapes. The Southern Rhône is all about blends. Grenache is king here but Syrah, Mourvedre and many others will make up the famous blends of Châteauneuf-du-Pape and Côtes du Rhône. The South makes rosé too and the white wines are blends of a whole list of grapes.

The Rhône is a vast region in terms of production. The climate ensures plentiful yields (most of the time) and there are a lot of wine producers. Wines from the north generally demand higher prices but these prices are warranted, as they are some of the best wines I’ve ever tasted. You might have heard of Hermitage and Condrieu but the Northern Rhône makes up about 5% of the Rhône’s total output. Prestigious but petite. The south, on the other hand, is pumping out litres and litres of wine. Quality ranges here too, which is why you need to know where to look.

One of the main reasons I’ve become a white Rhône convert is the price. These wines sit in the shadow of white Burgundy and thank god! When I look at the price of one of my favourite Bourgogne Blancs by Jean-Philippe Fichet (now £26.50 a bottle!) I know I’ve been priced out. I’m pretty sure I could buy this wine for £16 five years ago! For Burgundy’s entry point, I just can’t bring myself to spend over £20. I’m looking for everyday drinking wines and this is not it. Step in white Rhône (I can’t help feeling like I’m talking about a horse when I write this). Blinded by the luxiness of Burgundy I always passed by the Rhône section but I’m savvier now. I have bought a selection of white Rhônes recently and I did not spend over £17 per bottle. I used to go to fun wine dinners where everyone would bring a bottle. It wasn’t about price but about bringing something esoteric or cool. No one ever bought White Rhône. They just aren’t trendy or fashionable in the way that other regions or grapes are. I used to find this a sign that I should ignore them but now, I see that it was telling me to double down.

The grapes alone haven’t helped White Rhône’s image. Marsanne and Roussanne are wine’s Ugly Sisters. Marsanne predominantly grows in the Northern Rhône where you will find it in the whites from St Joseph, Crozes-Hermitage and Hermitage. Marsanne brings melon aromas and a rich mouthfeel. I often find bitter almond notes on the finish too. Marsanne is happier in the north but it can be included in Côtes du Rhône blends. This grape’s stony flavours and relatively low alcohol make it a well-suited partner to Roussanne, as it calms Roussanne’s acidity and texture. Roussanne is a bit of a nightmare compared to the easy-going Marsanne so many growers plant more of the latter. Tricky as it may be, Roussanne is still a valuable part of White Rhône. You will see it in Southern Rhône white blends and sometimes on its own (Château de Beaucastel’s Roussanne, Vieilles Vignes is a stunning wine). Roussanne adds floral notes and viscosity.

They are two white grapes that I always confuse even though I’ve been in the trade a decade. What I do know is they are better together! Producing white wines that are full of grip, stone fruit and body, they might be ugly but they’re worth knowing. Look out for whites from St Peray, an underappreciated appellation.

If Marsanne and Roussanne are the Ugly Sisters then Viognier is Cinderella. Standing alone in the North’s appellations of Condrieu, Viognier’s main characteristics are perfume, apricot flavours and oiliness. I’ve never been a huge fan of Condrieu and I consider it slightly different to the White Rhônes I enjoy because it isn’t a blend and it’s expensive. I find Viognier too much on its own so I’ll leave Condrieu for the old school wine drinkers. I do like Viognier when it’s blended with other varieties and it is now used in growing proportions in the Southern Rhône. When discussing White Rhône the other grapes you need to know are Grenache Blanc, Clairette, Ugni Blanc, Bourboulenc, Picpoul (it is a grape as well as a region). White Rhônes from the south tend to be fuller, whereas the wines from the north are crisper.

White Rhônes keep me on my toes. Sometimes they lean towards Condrieu with the oiliness of Viognier and other times, they are floral. Never fruity per se, White Rhônes feel like spring. Out of the austerity of winter, before the voluptuousness of summer, spring bridges the gap. These whites are ‘the inbetweeners’ but most importantly, they suit every season.

Here are a few I’ve tried recently:

2025 Lirac Blanc La Fermade, Domaine Maby - £14.95 per bottle

2023 Côtes-du-Rhône Blanc Les Chèvrefeuilles, Domaine La Réméjeanne - £15.50 per bottle

2024 Côtes-du-Rhône Blanc, La Fleur Solitaire Blanc, Boutinot - £13.60 per bottle

2024 Côtes-du-Rhône Blanc, Darriaud - £15 per bottle

2023 ‘Tinus’ Coteaux de l’Aigle Roussanne, Vin de France - £18.75 per bottle

Some of the best I’ve ever tried:

Hermitage Blanc, Jean-Louis Chave

Hermitage Blanc, Marc Sorrel

The second series of Drops of God was released in January. Having enjoyed the first season, I should have tucked into this straight away but I’ve only just gotten around to watching. I must have been too depressed with the UK weather to have felt like visually travelling to the sun-filled locations of this show.

For the uninitiated, Drops of God is an Apple TV show based on a Japanese manga series. Wine is one of the main characters and although it’s a silent role, wine is often causing trouble to the other protagonists, Camille and Issei. Familial tensions, taste and competition is at the core of season 1. The creators manage to liken wine tasting to a John le Carre thriller! It’s weird but worth a watch.

In the second series, Camille (Fleur Geffrier) and Issei (Tomohisa Yamashita) are back and they are friends. Well, at the start they are anyway. I was wondering where they would go with season 2 because the ending of the first season tied everything up in a neat bow. Would there be another competition? Where would the episodes be set? The beginning of season 2 cuts straight to the chase. I love it when films or TV set out the premise early on. I’m in safe hands; I won’t get to episode 3 and think, what the hell is going on?

The first episode features a birthday dinner for Camille, with Issei and other key characters present. It’s all rather charming until the final ten minutes, where Camille is given another special delivery from the grave. Her father, Alexandre Leger, is The Terminator. He keeps coming back via his lawyer, who frankly looks exhausted by his deceased employer’s tricks. This time Camille is given a box containing a dusty bottle of red wine. This bottle has no label or capsule so it is unidentifiable. The instructions are to find the wine and the person who made it. Camille, now happy and settled at Chassangre, her fiance Thomas’ winery, is understandably prickly about this mystery bottle. She’s not up for another game. However, later that night both her and Issei, wine-curious as they are, can’t resist trying the wine. I wish I could try it with them! Their reactions suggest it’s the most interesting and delicious wine they’ve ever tasted. This sets up the middle section of the show - we’re going on a quest!

Issei is inspired and wants to track down the wine but Camille wants to stay in Provence. I don’t blame her, as Issei isn’t much fun during these early episodes. I know impenetrable is his thing but a smile wouldn’t hurt. I imagine Camille is thinking ‘I know he’s my half-brother but he’s not exactly a laugh a minute.’ He’s not my dream travel buddy either yet the dynamic between these two is the beating heart of this show. There’s an in-built competitiveness between them that’s true to real life. They can’t help but one up each other. The joy of discovering you have a sibling is undercut by distrust and resentment. They don’t know how to be around each other.

Some shows take forever to get going but by episode 2, we’re on the move. Drops of God’s bread and butter are the locations. Vineyards are beautiful places and cellars are moody. Both of these places shine on the screen. They really make the most of a variety of locations in this series. Early on, we find ourselves in Jerez in a dusty bodega and I love how they weave this region in. A bottle without a label is incredibly hard to find. I would not know where to start! Their first clue takes them to Jerez, which then leads to a charismatic bee expert and then a grape research centre. At this point, I’m invested in the quest. There is genuine pace in these early episodes. A whodunit with the victim being a mystery bottle!

The middle section of the show takes us to Georgia. This country is famous for being the birthplace of wine so it makes sense to situate part of the story here. It still surprised me, as I haven’t been to Georgia nor seen it documented much. Good call from the show because it gives them a point of difference. The rugged hills of rural Georgia make for stunning backdrops, as the producer of the mystery bottle is revealed. There are monasteries, vineyards and qveri-full cellars. The latter is a nugget for the wine heads because qveris are Georgian wine. These large, earthenware, egg-shaped pots are used for fermentation and ageing. What’s remarkable is these pots are then buried into the floor of the cellar where they ferment for many years. A Georgian winery looks very different to an archetypal winery. While I did enjoy immersing myself in Georgian wine and culture, we spent a little too long here. Camille and Issei become entangled in a family drama. A battle between a brother and a sister over inheritance echoes series 1 and I found myself drifting off during these episodes. I want to stay with Camille and Issei. There’s enough richness in their story. We don’t need an array of new characters.

The relationship or lack thereof between Issei and his mother remains a storyline from season 1. So much of his pain derives from negative memories and their strained relationship haunts him. There’s one memory in particular that is awful to watch. Anyone with children will shiver at the thought. Issei is a closed book for a reason. His relationship to darkness is an interesting plotline because of how heightened your senses become when engulfed in darkness. Tasting wine requires all of your senses but for Issei, the disappointment of losing to Camille at the end of season 1 has left him questioning his talents.

He replaces blind tasting with free-diving, which is the ultimate sensory experience. Although, I know what activity I’d rather sign up for! Issei’s free-diving takes us to more exquisite locations (Okinawa and the calanques of Marseille) but I found his need for deprivation disturbing. Like a junkie, blind tasting isn’t enough. He needs more. He’s jealous of Camille’s synesthesia and he sees free-diving as a tool to lead to the ‘visions’ she experiences.

The latter episodes return us from Georgia to the familiar sights of a wine competition. It all becomes a bit 007 and I find it amusing that they attempt to turn Camille into a secret agent, infiltrating the tasting lineup. Suspenseful music, a low ponytail and bitchy judges are the backdrop for Camille to perform the ultimate act of betrayal. I enjoy it when the show gets serious and I find the dynamic between her and Thomas riveting. He loves her to such lengths that he’s mostly willing to brush over her callous behaviour throughout this season. In this penultimate episode Camille is driven by the desire to ‘do the right thing’ and she will stop at nothing to achieve this. She’s not curing cancer but she’s saving a wine’s legacy. Sadly for her, not many other people see it this way, especially not her fiancé.

While trickery is taking place in Paris. Issei is back in Japan and I love seeing him in Tokyo. The clean lines of the apartments paired with his jawline make for aesthetic scenes. In Tokyo, he seeks his mother out to interrogate her but finds she has travelled to Okinawa. In what looks like a spectacular property, we find her living a solitary existence. The stakes feel high at this point and I couldn’t help feeling sad for both Issei and his mother. Societal pressures have driven them apart and there doesn’t seem to be a road back.

The final episode wraps all of the strands together. Camille deals with the ramification of her actions at the First Vintage contest and Issei tackles trauma head on. From Chassangre (Thomas’ wine estate), to Tokyo and finishing in Marseille, the final shot is a beautiful one of Issei and Camille united. She lays her head on his shoulder. All they have is each other. After a tumultuous series where their relationship tears and repairs over and over again, the ending is harmonious. They both have serious obstacles to overcome (I wonder if there will be a third series?) but I enjoyed how they found solace in their sibling bond. This show is at its best when Camille and Issei are on screen together.

The styling is weird and the soundtrack is odd but I do like this quirky show. As someone who is obsessed with wine, season 2 of Drops of God is a feast for the eyes. There are so many wine references that feel like they were made for me. There’s even a tasting lesson, which felt very much in my wheelhouse! I imagine it’s like watching the F1 movie if you’re into Formula 1. The bottles that feature are wines I know. It feels like a secret club that only I’m a part of.

However, even if you’re new to wine, I think you would still find the show interesting. The locations alone make wine feel much more epic than the bottle you take from the fridge. One of my favourite scenes is early on, when Camille is being interviewed by a journalist. Camille takes the journalist around the winery, explaining the processes and techniques. She shows part of the winery which is a giant bath, full of water that is used to create airflow. There’s something almost Dune-esque about this scene!

I haven’t watched anything quite like Drops of God and I think diversity on TV should be celebrated. There’s a reason why there aren’t any successful wine tv shows because visually, a glass of wine is never interesting. The second series of Drops of God uses wine as the backbone but they weave in relationships, travel and senses to elevate our favourite drink to the big screen.

It’s in my free time that I research interesting grape varieties, taste new wines and travel to wine regions. My mission is to keep sharing these adventures and discoveries with you for as long as possible through this newsletter. If you’d like to support me, you can donate any amount via the button below. I’d be forever grateful.

Buy me a coffee (or a bottle!)

Robert, you’ve achieved an awful lot in a short space of time. Let’s go back to the beginning, how did you get into wine?

I wasn’t brought up in a particularly wine-focused home so university was where my connection with wine started. I was studying Musicology, Social Theory and Philosophy and one of the things I was interested in was the value of music and how music is used. There’s a cultural capital with music. For example, why do people think classical music is high brow? Wine is regarded in a similar way, as it’s a cultural product as much as music or art is. I became interested in the mystique around wine. What made some bottles hundreds of pounds? What was that all about? This was the starting point. From then, I haphazardly went around learning and tasting wherever I could. By the second and third year of University, the job question comes up. I wasn’t sure where my degree in Social Theory left me so I headed down the wine route. I was introduced to a few people in the trade and I visited the London Wine Fair (when it was a big deal). I had a few different jobs, one of which was answering phones and placing orders and slowly but surely I moved up and into the more focused buying role I’m doing now. My whole career has been very step by step. From zero knowledge to now.

Did you ever try your hand at sales or did you always know buying was what you wanted to do?

Initially, I was placing orders but quite quickly, I started buying and selling to restaurants, running my own little sales floor within the larger company I was working in! One restaurant would need 30 bottles of a Chablis so I would source the wine, buy it and sell it to the restaurant. I learnt a lot doing this. However, over time I realised that buying was the bit I enjoyed more. It’s a bit more geeky and technical and I like that. The company I was working for grew at a rapid pace so my role evolved from a junior buying position to being the buyer for entire countries. The remit was wide so one day, I would be buying bulk wines from South Africa to fulfill a large order and the next, I would be sourcing top end stuff for a restaurant wine list. This spectrum taught me a lot. What I lacked at that time was experience with private customers. After a few years the company I was working for was bought and the focus shifted slightly and I thought perhaps now is the right time to try out the fine wine/private customer sphere.

This is when we met (Robert and I both worked at Bordeaux Index together)! Now, you are the Buying Director at Coterie Holdings. What does a typical day look like for you?

There are many parts to Coterie Holdings. This large holding company is made up of Lay and Wheeler (merchant), Coterie Vaults (bonded warehousing), Hallgarten (importer) amongst others and I’m connected to almost all of them. I will start my day off with an offer to private customers, checking in with the Sales team to see if they need anything for their clients. There might be a new release happening that day so I’ll need to sort that out too. Alongside the daily actions, there’s a lot of forward planning. This might include campaigns such as Bordeaux en primeur, which is coming up. There might also be tender invitations from supermarkets.

What is a tender?

It’s when a supermarket such as Marks & Spencer gets in touch with a specific requirement to fill a slot in their shelves. With wine, they might say ‘we’re looking for a Rioja, made by a female winemaker, at £xx, with 13%abv.’ It’s super specific so then I’ll go back to my supplier base and come up with a few options to offer.

This is making my brain hurt! So many spinning plates!

There’s a lot going on, yes. There are large tasks to get done but I also have to recommend wines for charity dinners or help the sales team with Chateaux visits. It’s a mixed bag! Then there’s chatting with producers who might sometimes be disgruntled! I’m constantly doing something wine-related. I can’t get bored because there are so many parts to my role.

How often are you out and about tasting wines?

As much as I can. In reality though it’s two or three times a week.

When I was starting out, buying roles always looked so glamorous because of the travel. Do you go abroad a lot?

A fair bit. Last year, I visited South Africa, which is one of my key areas, three or four times. The aim of the trips is to meet with suppliers, try new vintages and potentially expand the range. I go to Bordeaux regularly. I also visit Spain, Germany and Austria, which are countries I look after.

Do the classic wine regions (Bordeaux, Burgundy, Champagne) still dominate?

From a private customer point of view, yes. There is demand for wines from these regions and in some ways it’s comforting. We know there’s a market because clients do consistently buy from these regions. Trendy, up-and-coming wines are fun but they don’t change the dial.

What are your regions to watch?

South Africa has been on my list for a while but specifically I think the Chardonnays are seriously impressive and undervalued. South Africa will always be a benchmark for Chenin Blanc but when you think of how much wine is produced there, Chardonnay isn’t over-produced. It’s handled sensitively so much that there isn’t really any basic, entry-level Chardonnay. What you can buy is exceptional, whilst also not being crazy expensive. Richard Kershaw is a producer I rate. I still think the Northern Rhône offers value in the context of other fine wines. A wine from Côte-Rôtie isn’t cheap but when you compare them to other major fine wines, you get incredible winemaking for a lot less.

Robert, you are still the youngest Master of Wine in the world! How long did it take to get the qualification?

For those who aren’t aware of the MW qualification, there are currently 421 Masters of Wine, living in 30 different countries. Being the youngest in the world is a remarkable achievement.

I started at the end of 2018. I passed Stage 1 and moved onto Stage 2 relatively quickly but Covid meant there was no teaching or exams in my third year. When studies resumed I passed the Theory and Tasting exam in my fourth year and finished the final research paper a year later. So, the whole process took around 4-5 years if you include the Covid break.

When you were doing it, did you prefer tasting or theory? Were you much better at one?

There are three parts to the exam. The practical exam comprises three papers of 12 wines each, tasted blind. The theory exam comprises five papers on viticulture, vinification and pre-bottling techniques, the handling of wine, the business of wine, and contemporary issues. The research paper is a 10,000-word report based on original research.

I’d say I was mostly better at theory. It’s easier to study; I learned how to do that at university! Tasting is harder. Although I didn’t need to learn how to taste, I did need to learn how to have the right mindset. When I talk to MW students now, there is this absolute fascination with identifying exactly where the wine is from. For me, it’s not just about guessing correctly, it’s about calming down, thinking rationally and asking myself ‘what are the options?’. For example, if the wine you’re tasting is of a high quality level, you would be able to eliminate certain regions or styles to get yourself closer to the answer. It’s really easy to go down a rabbit hole and think ‘oh, I think this wine is from Georgia,’ when it probably isn’t! There’s a lot you need to know but once you’re familiar with key styles, you become aware of how Cabernet Sauvignon can taste. However, there are definitely things you can confuse. There was a time when, for some reason, I kept mistaking a young Pomerol for a certain style of french-oak aged Rioja. This particular glitch was something I had to work on.

What was the biggest skill doing the MW taught you?

To be methodical. Of course, you have to be ready but on exam days, I weirdly felt relaxed because I knew I was as prepared as I could possibly have been. Whatever question came up, I had an answer and whatever wine was presented, I’d done the work. With a methodical approach, you’ll probably be fine.

Are there any drawbacks to being a Master of Wine? Can you know too much?

I don’t think there are any drawbacks but I guess some use their MW ‘badge’ in different ways. It depends on who you are as a person but it’s only ever been helpful in my career. In terms of knowing too much, my knowledge doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a 6 euro glass of Rosé when I’m in France! When I’m tasting, I’m not working out whether I’m enjoying the wine or not. I’m assessing the quality or even questioning its commercial potential. Tasting and drinking are very different activities.

Thank you to Robert for answering my questions.

Let’s start with perception. Alcohol-free wine lags far behind that of alcohol-free beer and spirits. The latter two are now mainstream, whereas wine is not. Pop into your local, big Sainsbury’s and you will be met by a serious selection of alcohol-free beers. There aren’t just one or two, there are ten. That’s a huge change in the last few years. Quantity and quality for alcohol-free beers in particular is high. I’m not a Guinness drinker (strangely it’s one of the few alcoholic beverages I can’t stand) but I’ve been told that non-alcoholic Guinness tastes identical in flavour and feel to the real deal. Alcohol-free wine is trailing behind in the popularity stakes and the main reason for this is quality.

It’s categorically much harder to make alcohol-free wine than other zero-alcohol drinks. It just is. The average alcohol content (abv) of a bottle of still wine is 12%-13%. That’s considerably more alcohol you have to get rid of compared to the 4% of most beers. Throw in the fact that beers are carbonated and can be over-hopped for more flavour, it is easier to make an alcohol-free beer taste like actual beer. Spirits are a different kettle of fish. You’d think the 40% alcohol content would be insurmountable but due to the way spirits are served, this isn’t such a problem. Gordons can produce pallets of its ‘Alcohol-free Spirit’ (they can’t legally call it gin) and no one is quibbling about the odd texture or lack of flavour because the mixer makes up most of the drink. If you buy flavoursome mixers, the alcohol-free spirit doesn’t have to work as hard. Wine is already on the back foot because it has the furthest to fall.

On a sensory level, wine is much more complicated than its competitors. Beer and wine are spoken in different ways, with specific terminology. You don’t hear people talking about the length on their pint of Heineken but you will hear about the finish on a Corton-Charlemagne. Beers are generally marked on their flavour and ability to refresh. Wine has many more metrics for judging quality. This makes it very difficult for alcohol-free wines to please traditional wine drinkers because there are more elements (texture, body, length, acidity are just some of these!) up for debate.

In order to make an alcohol-free wine, you have to make a wine first. The important stage is the removal of the alcohol, which is when it becomes tricky. Alcohol brings a lot to the table. It brings body, structure and mouthfeel so when it is removed, it’s hard to avoid the feeling that something is missing. Luke describes alcohol as the backbone. Once removed, the wine slumps and turns inwards. He admits the challenges of producing something wine-like without this all important bone. To compensate for this, alcohol-free producers might add additional flavours such as botanicals and/or age the liquid in oak barrels. My first thought is you can’t replace the body with botanicals but Wednesday’s Domaine is giving it a good go.

I recently tasted Wednesday Domaine’s Vignette, which is their 0.0%abv Tempranillo. Pulling the cork and pouring a glass felt very much like my usual wine experiences. The nose contained notes of blackcurrant, black cherry alongside sweet spices. The palate echoes the nose but there’s a whiff of sweetness. Wednesday’s Domaine has done a very good job at replicating alcohol’s body with other flavours and on the whole, I think it’s an accomplished liquid. It’s not wine as you know it but with food, at a dinner party, I think it goes down pretty well. It’s a question of changing perspective and accepting that alcohol-free wines are different beasts to wine.

The confusing nature of the market is another thorn in the side of alcohol-free wine. There are too many different products masquerading as wine alternatives. Swap your Champagne for Sparkling Tea? Trade in your Natural Wine for Non? These products are tasty and I have nothing against them but they aren’t wine that has been de-alcoholised. The range of products is wide but convoluted. It would be clearer if alcohol-free wine sat in its own category and everything else sat in another. Major retailers should make more of an effort when it comes to delineating their ranges.

Speaking of major retailers, how many of you have noticed how cheap alcohol-free wine is in supermarkets? Nozeco is widely available at £3.75, as is Mcguigan Zero Sauvignon Blanc at £4.25. This is far too cheap and what do you know, the quality is appalling. Most of these cheap bottles end up down the sink and it’s these experiences that lead consumers to write off all alcohol-free wine. How can independents such as Wednesday’s Domaine make an impression when these cheap examples tarnish the whole category? Their bottles cost more than a fiver because more time and effort has gone into their production but the consumer, who is already pissed off with alcohol-free wine, doesn’t care.

Another hurdle alcohol-free independents have to jump is the wine trade’s disdain for them. Wine is rooted in tradition rather than innovation but there’s a world in which this could be different. Instead of growing together, these two sides of the wine coin don’t get on! The wine trade could learn a lot from the beer industry. The latter shows that collaboration is possible and they have proved how lucrative it can be. This oppositional mindset from the traditional wine trade has meant that very little research and experimentation into the alcohol-free sphere has occurred. There are many successful wineries who have the funds for exploration, but the lack of interest means alcohol-free, as a serious concept, hasn’t gotten off the ground. I’ve read that Penfolds have heavily invested in an alcohol-free facility so perhaps times are changing but for now, there’s no love lost between wine and non-alcoholic wine.

This reluctant mindset has trickled down into the on-trade (pubs, restaurants, hotels). We have all heard much about the state of the hospitality industry. Risk-takers most establishments are not! Generally, restaurants are unwilling to list alcohol-free wines because they will lose money if only one glass is drunk. Wastage is the killer. The on-trade argue that there isn’t demand for quality alcohol-free wine so producers, such as Wednesday’s Domaine, find themselves knocking on closed doors. However, this year, Luke has seen a reversal of his email traffic. For years, he fired off emails to pub groups and restaurants, only to receive nothing back but now, these pub groups are emailing him. Making sure alcohol-free wines are served ‘by-the-glass’ is key to growing their consumer base. There’s more willingness to try a £7 glass of alcohol-free wine rather than cough up for a bottle. These steps could seriously update the ways in which alcohol-free wine is drunk.

As you can see, the world of alcohol-free wine is a tricky market. That’s why some independents are evolving in order to grow their audience. Wednesday’s Domaine has recently launched a 6.5%abv range. The less alcohol you eliminate the more closely the product will resemble wine. These bottles should entice a whole new category of consumers who want to drink less but don’t want to go the full teetotal.

They experimented with various abv levels, thinking about the pros and cons of each. 3% tasted too similar to alcohol-free, so would you not drink the zero version? 9% was interesting from a flavour perspective but they felt it was too close to full strength. 6.5% allowed them to get the right balance of flavour and texture, while still containing considerably less alcohol than a 13%abv bottle of wine. Consisting of a Chardonnay and Tempranillo, their 6.5%abv range is much closer to wine as we know it.

I recently tried the red and white:

Doré - 6.5%abv Chardonnay (white)

After a few sniffs, I’m reminded of a Chablis, a coastal Chilean Chardonnay or even a Basque Txakoli. It is fresh and crisp rather than rich and full. The lightness of this wine is the only thing that differentiates it from its 13%abv counterparts. It zips down the throat, with notes of lemon, green melon and grass. It’s a refreshing light bodied white. I shared a few glasses with a friend on a recent weekday evening, and it went down very well. I imagine it would be a great lunchtime wine too. Here is something that is exactly like drinking a wine but without the rise and fall of booze. It might not be the most textural thing you’ve ever tried, but the benefits outweigh this.

Boisé - 6.5%abv Tempranillo (red)

Raspberry, blueberry fruits jump out of the glass. This is met by grippy tannins and acidity. There’s structure here. This feels like a juicy, glou-glou red that wouldn’t be out of place in a small-plates place in Hackney. I favour lighter bodied reds over the heavyweights so this would fit nicely in my cellar. I don’t feel the absence of half the alcohol, plus, there’s less risk of a headache the next day. I would put this in the fridge for a short time before drinking to accentuate the fruit.

I have a feeling this range will take off because most of us would like to drink less. The difficulty arises from trying to break entrenched social patterns. You might not want to commit to 0.0% but 6.5% allows you to have multiple glasses without the fear of a hangover. There are times when I just can’t face the headache that half a bottle of Chianti will serve me. Early mornings and having to be always-on with my daughter, makes hangovers truly unbearable. 6.5% appeals to me and I’m sure it would to other parents.

These lower alcohol wines bring another matter into focus, calories. It’s a loaded word and not something we’d usually discuss when analysing wine, yet they exist in surprisingly high amounts (a standard 150ml glass of Chardonnay will contain around 120-130 calories. Wednesday Domaine’s 6.5%abv wines contain around 50 calories) in every glass we drink. Calories might not be on the wine trade’s agenda but they are relevant to a lot of drinkers. So, once you find out that lower alcohol wines have less calories, you might be more inclined to change your order.

If we return to Guinness 0.0, Guinness obviously has a lot more cash for research and development than Wednesday’s Domaine so, I’m not surprised they have ended up with such a stellar product so quickly. Wine is getting there and I believe, with more investment into the independents and research from the big names, it’s only a matter of time before alcohol-free wine explodes into the mainstream.

It’s in my free time that I research interesting grape varieties, taste new wines and travel to wine regions. My mission is to keep sharing these adventures and discoveries with you for as long as possible through this newsletter. If you’d like to support me, you can donate any amount via the button below. I’d be forever grateful.

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Today, I’m still Jimmy at heart and positivity still runs through my veins. You have to give winemakers some slack. No one sets out to make horrid wine and winemaking is tough! Frost, mildew and wild boar are some of the hazards in the vineyard. In the winery, tricky fermentations, TCA and expensive equipment all make life hard. Making wine is a form of farming and a difficult one at that. There’s no guarantee you’ll have a product at the end of a year. If you’re lucky enough to have a bountiful harvest, the aim is to make something delicious and desirable! I believe everyone tries their best so I honour this with impartiality and good nature when tasting. This newsletter is stuffed full of wines I’ve loved and I hope you’ve enjoyed reading about them. However, today I’m writing about a few wines I have not enjoyed.

A writer I follow has recently started discussing books she didn’t connect with. I hadn’t realised how much I’d switched off from the abundance of positive book reviews, until I read a negative one. Reading why they didn’t like something is as interesting to hear as why they did. It helps rationalise your own opinion. Similarly with restaurant reviews, you’ll be hard pushed to find negative write ups but when I see one, I enjoy it. That’s not to say I like ‘punching down’ or being unnecessarily bitchy but if it’s done well, a negative review can teach you a lot about what you do like.

The feeling of not liking a wine is a complex one because there are many factors that affect enjoyment. Where and how the wine is stored is a big one. I was recently on holiday in Kenya and I was asked to order wine for the house we were staying in. I ordered a few bottles of A.A Badenhorst’s 2021 Kalmoesfontein Red Blend. This blend of Shiraz, Cinsault, Tinta Barocca, Mourvedre and Grenache is a tried and tested favourite of mine. I rate all of Badenhorst’s wines and frankly, I was thrilled to spot a producer I like amidst a sea of fairly average winemakers. I did not go to Kenya for the wine scene. One evening, I poured myself a glass, swirled, sniffed and sipped. My brow furrowed. I double checked the label. Could this really be my Badenhorst?! The wine tasted baked. Prune juice, dried berries and burnt sugar. I was so disappointed. Due to the cooked fruit flavours, I found myself picturing bottles stuck on the steaming runway at Mombasa. Wine left in hot conditions won’t fare well. I can’t be sure if storage was the issue here but how else can I excuse this soupy mess?

Another factor is consistency. Try as one might, you cannot make carbon copies of wines. Wine is not a toaster. It can’t be made in a factory and it changes constantly so even if you buy a case of 12 bottles of one wine, they will each taste subtly different. These nuances are usually so slight they would be imperceptible to most drinkers. Sometimes, they are horribly obvious. In the trade, it’s called the ‘bad bottle.’ We use this phrase as a way to excuse a wine’s performance. It’s as if the bottle woke up on the wrong side of the bed. We justify it by saying ‘maybe it was a bad bottle. I bet the rest of the case is fine.’ We don’t like to experience bad bottles. It worries us, leaving a bad taste in our mouths. Cynically, if one bottle tastes bad, might the whole batch be? This can lead to refunds and upset customers. Not good.

One wine I tried recently was 2022 Bourgueil, Soif du Jour, Pierre et Rodolphe Gauthier. I’m part of the recently converted to Cabernet Franc, particularly from the Loire Valley, so I was eager to try this unfamiliar producer. Sadly, my excitement turned to regret. My nose was met with the smell of a stable that always takes me natty wine bars and poor wine glasses. I thought a few aggressive swirls might blow off the whiff but it persisted. By the end of another sip, I thought life’s too short, and I left it. I rarely do this. I like most wines. Disappointed is the word that comes to mind again. I’m in danger of sounding like a Karen but disliking something I was excited to try was disappointing. I bought it from a reputable merchant and I know that storage conditions couldn’t be the problem so I’m chalking it up to a bad bottle.

When writing a negative review, I have to think about the factors. It’s important to remain analytical and think about what is structurally wrong with a wine as opposed to the wine not aligning with your palette. Wine tasting is a subjective activity. Everyone has different opinions but when reviewing and thinking about wine, you have to rise above. As mentioned there have been two incidents recently when I had to dispose of the wine but I assure you there was something wrong with the internal makeup of those particular bottles. I haven’t let emotion run away with me and I’m not writing these producers off. In fact, I wanted to write about them because the experiences made me appreciate all the great bottles I’ve enjoyed recently. A negative encounter with a wine also proves how ‘living’ wine is.

I tried to think of further examples for this newsletter but the truth is, most wines I’ve tried in recent memory have been good and at the very worst, fine. That’s an incredible feat from wine production around the world. We can all sleep better knowing bad bottles are few and far between! So, don’t be disheartened if you dislike a bottle. There’s likely a concrete reason as to why. A negative review makes the positive ones taste even sweeter.

It’s in my free time that I research interesting grape varieties, taste new wines and travel to wine regions. My mission is to keep sharing these adventures and discoveries with you for as long as possible through this newsletter. If you’d like to support me, you can donate any amount via the button below. I’d be forever grateful.

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On the bottle front, I had to pick a trashy wine. Oaky, buttery wines are all the rage at the moment, so much so that I now think of them as too obvious, and in a way, trashy. These oaky white wines are crowd pleasers, usually made from Chardonnay or Chenin Blanc. The Margot Robbie of wines. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy a buttery Chardonnay as much as the next person but the rise in demand for these sorts of wines means other grapes and styles are fading into the background. More on this later….

The Secret of Secrets - Dan Brown (published 2025)

I went on an arduous journey with this novel. The journey was long because this book is over 650 pages long and it was painful, due to the sheer weight of the hardback. It wasn’t a tough read as Dan Brown writes in such a way that even an 8-year-old could understand but the massive lag from the middle to the end of the book left me exhausted. I’ve never enjoyed and detested something so much. Peaks and troughs were exemplified in The Secret of Secrets. The way I felt at the beginning of the novel, let’s say the first 200 pages, compared to how I felt at the end was disturbing.

The novel is set in Prague, and the descriptions of the city did make me want to book a Ryanair flight. Call it book tourism but I have always enjoyed immersing myself in a place through literature. Brown writes well about places and architecture so that’s something. At the start of the book, there are some pacy moments and showdowns, including a tense moment in a library. I was gripped in the early days of this century-long novel, going to bed early to read it. However, the more I turned the pages, the less I wanted to read.

Robert Langdon is back and he seems to have had a glow up since the Da Vinci days. There are lots of references to his physique and lux wardrobe. Frankly, I was perturbed as Langdon has always felt like someone’s dad! I can’t stop picturing Tom Hanks as Robert Langdon but this Robert Langdon was more Glenn Powell. It’s odd.

We are quickly introduced to Katherine Solomon, a love interest and a fiery lecturer. I thought it was amusing that not only was she a human encyclopedia, she was hot too. Let’s sex up science! Langdon always has a sidekick (give me Sophie Neveu any day) but I didn’t mind Katherine Solomon. I was waiting for her to end up as the baddie but I’m not sure why I held out for this because this book is saccharine. Reading it feels like eating your way through an entire Terry’s Chocolate Orange. You can physically do it but it’s not something you’d repeat. The first few segments are delicious but it quickly becomes sickly. By the end, you feel physically ruined and emotionally hollow.

In Dan Brown’s previous books, I loved the symbolism, the code-cracking, the anagrams and the history of art. The weaving of all these subjects made for riveting plots. In The Secret of Secrets, science, the brain, OBEs (outer body experiences) and the CIA replace art and religion. That’s what I found challenging. I can take the trash when it’s about a subject matter I’m interested in but the collective unconscious doesn’t do it for me. There’s no doubt that this book was diligently researched but sometimes this showed. The words felt too laboured, like trawling through a Chemistry textbook when you don’t study Science.

Dan Brown’s writing style is very repetitive, which becomes tiring. Short chapters, cliff-hangers, and cringey asides, the structure is relentless. The constant references to ‘stuff’ annoyed me too. I want to live in fiction rather than be reminded of Patagonia puffers! The dialogue is clunky and sticky. However, I do think the plot is the best part of this huge book. At times, I thought about putting it down, but I couldn’t ignore the fact that I did want to know what happened at the end. The big reveal at the end is a good one and not one I saw coming. But, by that point I was reading at double speed. Just get to the end! It reminded me of the last series of Stranger Things. Both things contain elements from the glory days but everything else is bloated, tired and silly.

The main issue with this novel is the length. There are too many sideplots with characters I did not care about and too many paragraphs that read like entries to medical journals. Will this be the last time we see Robert Langdon? I hope so.

2023 Chardonnay, Meerlust, Stellenbosch, South Africa

Find me a sunnier wine than this! I absolutely loved this Chardonnay. Meerlust is one of Stellenbosch’s key wine estates. Rubicon is their famous red wine and unlike many other producers, they only make one white wine. First produced in 1995, the wine comes from grapes exclusively grown on the estate. It is fermented and matured in french oak barrels. There’s something bold about producing only one white wine. Most estates of this level will make a Sauvignon Blanc, a Chenin, a blend. Only producing a Chardonnay is a statement of intent. They pour all their expertise and effort into one wine and you’d better like it!

I call 2023 Meerlust Chardonnay trashy in the kindest way possible because most people love a bit of trash. Crisps and Dip, all-inclusive holidays, Coleen Hoover, Love Island and Matcha Lattes. Buttery, oaky wines are part of the gang. This wine is the epitome of an oaky, buttery Chardonnay and this trash smells good! Even if someone said they didn’t like it, I wouldn’t believe them. We all hate to love trash but if I served this wine in a blind tasting, I know it would win.

Unlike wines of this ilk that are sickly and honeyed, this wine has bursts of lemon rind and grapefruit. Citrus is the key here. You want oak to be part of the band rather than the lead singer. I want to feel the citrus fruit, oak, minerality and texture all at the same time. We often talk about tension in white wines and while tension in life can be hard to handle, in wine it’s an accolade. Meerlust Chardonnay has a strong backbone that keeps all of its band members in check. Alongside the vanilla notes, there is cold butter on toasted brioche. There’s a sweet and salty party happening and that’s before the tropical fruit salad of mango, pineapple and passion fruit kicks in. We drank a few bottles of this during a recent trip abroad and I never tired of the flavours. A sunny wine for sunny times ahead!

It’s in my free time that I research interesting grape varieties, taste new wines and travel to wine regions. My mission is to keep sharing these adventures and discoveries with you for as long as possible through this newsletter. If you’d like to support me, you can donate any amount via the button below. I’d be forever grateful.

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Own label ranges are everywhere. All the major supermarkets have them and The Wine Society even has two! These ranges are curated by retailers to offer benchmarks of certain styles of wine. Expressions of White Burgundy, Côtes du Rhône or Barolo are a few examples but most own label ranges are large, encompassing crowd favourites and niche finds. Twenty years ago, you wouldn’t have seen a Tesco Finest Douro Red or a Sainsbury’s Cremant de Loire. Wine is now made on a truly global scale and own label ranges have to reflect that. In the UK, we are spoiled for choice with the array of wines on offer. In a sea of multi-coloured labels, own label ranges simplify our buying decisions.

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Trust is at the heart of buying these sorts of wines. Supermarkets and merchants recognise brand loyalty and capitalise on it. If you are a devout customer of M&S, you will assume that their wines will be as delicious as their food. Own label wines have the retailer’s stamp of approval. They’ve done the work for you, therefore eliminating one step of the decision tree. Producing own label wines is a gamble, as the brand is on the line. This is usually why own label wines are pretty good. For example, Berry Bros. & Rudd‘s Own Selection wines are excellent, as are certain bottles from Waitrose, Tesco and Morrisons, you just need to know what to look out for!

How does this all work I hear you ask? Surely a merchant such as Berry Bros & Rudd doesn’t own their own vineyards? If you consider how large their range is (they sell wines from each of the Bordeaux communes for example!), they simply wouldn’t be able to afford vineyards and wineries in each of the locations. What they do instead is utilise the strong relationships they already have with established producers and ask them to make a wine for them. Think of it as renting instead of buying. This process is a collaboration between retailer and wine producer.

If you read the smallprint on own label wines you will notice ‘this wine was made by X for X’ so the producer is always acknowledged. An example is Berry Bros. & Rudd Swartland Red, which is made for them by Sadie Family Wines. Eben Sadie is one of the world’s most respected winemakers making crystalline whites and refined reds from the Swartland in South Africa. Having this big name make a wine for them is quite the coup! Not all own label ranges have Sadie-shaped golden nuggets but I make it my mission to sniff them out whenever I can.

Own label wines are made by the producer exclusively for the retailer and a lot of work goes into them. The concept, the production and final tasting are very much a joint effort. This is where buying roles become really important. The winemakers make the wine but the buyers help curate the final product because they are the literal mouthpiece of the customer. The buyers know what sells and what doesn’t! I remember seeing buyers head off to Spain, France and America to help with blending and tasting. It takes skill but it’s a perk of a buyer’s job. You make friends, travel and get to use the winemaking side of your brain. Much better than sitting in an office! I know someone in the wine trade who left one company for another because the new place offered the opportunity to blend wines for their own label range.

What’s in it for the producer? A yearly contract with a merchant or supermarket means guaranteed income, which is not to be sniffed at! If I were a wine producer making a substantial amount of wine, I would be thrilled at the opportunity to connect with an established UK brand. They will also do the hard graft of marketing it, so there’s little additional effort post-wine being bottled. By making a wine for a UK supermarket, just think about how many people might try their wines. They would reach a whole new client base. If you were a smaller wine producer you might not be able to fulfill the volume required by a UK supermarket so there’s a certain type of wine producer that would be able to work in this way. There might also be a certain amount of snobbery that comes into play. I’m not sure certain winemakers would want to be associated with large UK supermarkets and their slashed prices! So it’s a choice but I don’t see any downsides because your other wines can exist entirely separate to the wine you make for Morrisons. Unless you’re me, who religiously looks at back labels, who is really joining the dots?

It all sounds harmonious doesn’t it? The producer is happy, the retailer has great wines that reflect their brand but what about the customer? There doesn’t seem to be many reasons to avoid own label wines. However, now that I’m in the buying seat for my wine courses, I find myself shying away from own label wines. A friend from the wine trade recently suggested The Wine Society Exhibition range as suitable options for my wine courses. Surely these are prime examples for what I’m teaching? She’s right. The Wine Society’s own label range is particularly good at encapsulating styles. If you want to know what Nebbiolo from the Langhe tastes like, open this and you will be enlightened. They might not be the most interesting wines but they have a job, and they do it well. Yet, I find it hard to pull the trigger on these wines. Is it the labels, as there’s something about them that feels a bit generic and even cheap. I hate to say this out loud because the opposite is true but for my requirements, they are a little unimaginative. I take pride in delving through lists trying to find wines that will work on my courses and own label wines feel a bit of a cop out. The retailer has done my job for me! I drink own label wines at home but I don’t serve them at my courses. There might be a disconnect here!

Restaurants are now hopping aboard the own label train. Many restaurant groups ask wine producers to make their house red and white. Again, these restaurants are making the most of brand loyalty. If diners are eating their food, why not drink their wine? Wine lists can be intimidating. House wines with the restaurants’ names on them offer a safer place to land. For the restaurant, making their own label wines isn’t purely a commercial decision. Restaurateurs tend to love wine so sourcing wines for their restaurants must be a pleasure. It makes for a nice business trip too!

What are your thoughts on Own Label wines? Are you attracted or put off by the labels? Do you find them safe bets or a bit dull?

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To finish off, here are a few of my favourite own label wines:

2023 Berry Bros. & Rudd Swartland Red by The Sadie Family Wines, South Africa - £35 per bottle

2023 Berry Bros. & Rudd Beaujolais-Villages by Louis Claude Desvignes - £16.25 per bottle

2022 Berry Bros. & Rudd Santa Barbara County Pinot Noir by Au Bon Climat, California, USA - £29.95 per bottle

2024 Berry Bros. & Rudd Gavi di Gavi by Tenuta Santa Seraffa, Piedmont, Italy - £16.25 per bottle

No.1 Chianti Classico Riserva Piccini - £16.50 per bottle

The Society’s Exhibition Chenin Blanc, Western Cape 2023 - £14.95 per bottle

The Society’s Exhibition Kamptal Grüner Veltliner 2024 - £13.25 per bottle (on sale)

The Society’s Exhibition Margaret River Cabernet Sauvignon 2023 - £18 per bottle

Morrisons Fino Sherry (produced by Lustau) - £8.95 per bottle

M&S Classics White Burgundy - £12 per bottle

It’s in my free time that I research interesting grape varieties, taste new wines and travel to wine regions. My mission is to keep sharing these adventures and discoveries with you for as long as possible through this newsletter. If you’d like to support me, you can donate any amount via the button below. I’d be forever grateful.

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From colleagues to critics to winemakers themselves, you just don’t add ice to wine. Through learning about how wine is made, and the painstaking efforts growers and makers go to create these elixirs, I realised that ice is the enemy, the infiltrator. Every winemaker always tries their best (Barefoot Merlot might be the exception) and what they’ve produced, in their eyes, is complete. The addition of anything goes against the status quo. So, how do I feel about ice cubes added to a glass of wine? Not good is the honest answer but I realise that a lot of people are ‘icey’ people.

The motive is clear, the outcome is colder wine. I get it, but adding ice is a short term fix, a bandage for a cut, plaster for a hole. Your wine will instantly be cooler to drink, therefore more refreshing, but quickly the ice will melt and your wine will return to its original temperature, tasting far less delicious. What is the obsession with temperature anyway? It seems to me that most people want their white wine served at arctic temperatures, which doesn’t benefit the wine at all.

When tasting at domaines or chateaux, we never sampled white wines fridge cold. The winemaker will have requested the bottles be taken out the fridge a good 15/20 minutes before tasting. The colder the liquid the less you’ll taste and these people want you to taste every aroma the wine has on offer. They want you to leave having fallen in love with their wines and cool temperatures suppress flavour. Shouldn’t we follow the people in the know’s lead? We shouldn’t drink white wines as cold as we do yet ‘ice cold’ remains something people request.

Ice melts. This is a scientific process that cannot be altered and it’s the main reason I am anti-ice. When ice cubes melt, they cause dilution in the wine. The wine will become diluted, watery and less flavoursome. Have you ever tasted defrosted ice? It’s not pleasant so why would I want that mixing with my Sauvignon Blanc? The addition of ice, which melts, will upset the equilibrium of the wine. It’s like adding salt to The Ledbury’s food. They have concocted the perfect, most balanced dishes, there’s no need to mess around with the seasoning. Another negative by-product of adding ice to wine is you’re left with a sweaty glass. The wet ring on the table, damp hands - it’s messy!

At this point you can see that I do not advocate for ice in wine so you might be surprised to hear my answer to the student’s innocent question. In order to avoid mass alienation, I’ve learnt to mutter the phrase ‘ice in wine is ok depending on the situation.’ The emphasis here is very much on the situation. In the name of market research, I have even danced with the frozen devil. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em?

Here’s when I think it’s acceptable to add ice to wine. A session beer earned this name due to its lower alcohol content. The idea being that you could ‘session’ it all day, therefore avoiding total intoxication. In lieu of drinking lower alcohol wines, adding ice to wine when at an all-day party makes sense. A few glasses of wine at 13%abv can take its toll, so adding a few ice cubes to your glass can mitigate alcohol’s effects.

At a wedding this summer, the sun was shining, Provence rosé was being served and a few pals asked for some ice. They always sheepishly look at me and apologise, but this time I finally understood their motivation. Like Paul on the road to Damascus, I was blind but then I could see! The dilution would keep the glass fuller for longer and crucially, remove the bite out of the alcohol. If you’re going to put ice in any wine, pale rosés are the ideal candidates. Overt flavour is something this style of wine actively tries to avoid, so a bit of dilution isn’t going to alter the wine’s makeup too much. There’s also no tannins in rosé so the ice won’t mess with the structure. What I’m saying is, throw a few cubes in and don’t worry about judgement from me. In this setting, I even added the odd cube!

I hate to admit it, but I have once added a cube of ice to a glass of Fino Sherry. My favourite wine region? One I have visited many times? And I’m adding ice! I can feel the Bodegas quivering all the way from Jerez. However, in my defence, due to the slightly higher alcohol level, I find one cube of ice stops Fino from being too heady. Fino Sherries are around 15%abv with Amontillados and Olorosos clocking in at 16-18%.abv Now, I wouldn’t add an ice cube to the amber-coloured, oxidative sherries because I would not want to risk diluting the nuttiness but Fino seems to take a little ice well.

Another example of when it would be acceptable to add ice is when someone has brought a horror show round to your house. Now, you should probably de-friend this person right away but, if you have to open the bargain basement wine, feel free to add ice. In fact, I implore you to. A bit of ice will hopefully freeze off the flavours of peardrops and nail varnish remover.

Things I will never put an ice cube in:

• All red wines - tannins and fridge temperatures do not go well together.

• Darker coloured rosés - intense flavours should not be diluted.

• Champagne - not sure anyone has ever attempted this but I can’t imagine it would be good.

• Port - high alcohol, viscous texture, sweet, it’s hard to find balance in Port. Don’t let ice get in the way.

• Oxidative sherries - ice will only dampen these highly concentrated, complex wines.

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  It’s in my free time that I research interesting grape varieties, taste new wines and travel to wine regions. My mission is to keep sharing these adventures and discoveries with you for as long as possible through this newsletter. If you’d like to support me, you can donate any amount via the button below. I’d be forever grateful.

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I consider myself a ‘big’ reader. Come rain or shine, I always have a book on the go. Even a one-year-old who actively dislikes books (heartbreaking) can’t stop me. I’m definitely reading a lot less now but that’s ok. Reading is a lifelong hobby - I know I’ll find my way home!

Yet, for all my literary smugness, I’ve read very few of ‘the classics.’ Even worse, I’ve never read anything by Jane Austen! In the wine world, this would be the same as someone who loves wine but has never tried Bordeaux. So, spurred on by the fact that my friend has worked on the new film adaptation of Sense and Sensibility, I felt it was time to dip my toe in so here we go.

Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen

There’s no denying that I found it rather hard to get into Sense and Sensibility. The language is the first hurdle. The way it’s written and the vocabulary used contrasts with all the books I usually read. My concentration had to be turned up at all times to keep up.

Sense and Sensibility focuses on the Dashwood sisters, mainly Marianne and Elinor, and their widowed mother. The novel starts with the Dashwood women, who have been politely turfed out of their family home in East Sussex after the death of their father. Their half-brother and heir, John Dashwood, inherits the family home and spurred on by his snobby and manipulative wife, he renegades on his promise and reduces his half-sisters’ income. Perturbed by this, the Dashwood women move to a smaller cottage in Devon where we are introduced to Edward Ferrars, Willoughby and Colonel Brandon. These three men act as potential love interests for the sisters and the novel weaves its way around them. Confrontation, secrets, and gossip ensue.

At times I found it hard to keep up with the beginning section of the novel. Jane does not cushion your fall, instead you are plunged into family histories and then, a completely new setting. However, all my misgivings were washed away by the time the sisters arrived in London. The mystery of Willoughby’s sudden disappearance intensifies and culminates in high drama. We learn more about Colonel Brandon’s past and longing for Marianne. Her reaction to him is so sad but believable, as she wrestles with her own turmoils. The general hubbub of London compared to the tranquility of Devon was entertaining to read. It’s like taking your favourite sitcom characters and placing them in an entirely different city. I really bonded with Elinor during this part of the book. She is the reserved one, arguably with the most sense. She endures her own disappointments, while shouldering everyone else’s troubles. I was initially attracted to Marianne’s energy and willfulness, but with more pages turned, Elinor shines. She’s the older sister we all want.

Sense and Sensibility is very funny. I chuckled many times throughout, which surprised me. There are various scenes where characters lament their own poverty or patronise others for not being as wealthy as themselves. The scene with Elinor and her brother John Dashwood, particularly made me laugh. He drones on about how poor he and his wife are (‘’the perpetual demands upon his purse’’), almost as an excuse to avoid giving his sisters any cash. Yet in the very next sentence, he discusses the farm next door, which he recently purchased because it would be mad not to. The entrance of ghastly Robert Ferrars also made me smirk. He really is awful. The general snobbery of most of the characters is the antithesis to the Dashwood sisters’ optimism. Some of the characters have nothing better to do than gossip and look down at people. I can’t think of anything worse than an afternoon in the rooms of Fanny Dashwood but she’s a brilliant villain.

Alongside the humour, there are moments where Sense and Sensibility reads like a thriller. The reappearance of Willoughby genuinely made me shiver. There are levels of suspense that wouldn’t be out of place in a Slow Horses book! It’s a pacy novel - there aren’t many boring bits. However, Sense and Sensibility is one of those books that you need to chip away at. I wouldn’t have enjoyed it if I’d read twenty pages one day and then a week later read another twenty. Reading ten pages every night kept the momentum going.

I did feel the novel ended abruptly. It seemed as if Jane was in a rush to wrap it up. Maybe she was, as she published Pride and Prejudice two years later followed by Mansfield Park and Emma in subsequent years! In Sense and Sensibility, the characters I grew to love ended up in happy places and sometimes a happy ending is necessary. The lasting impression I felt when closing the book was of the sisterly bond. The connection between Marianne and Elinor is so much more important than the romantic relationships. Their love for each other is a dedication with such vitality and endurance. I really loved being in their world!

The Trouble with Dreams, Sugrue South Downs

I felt I had to pick an English wine to pair alongside Sense and Sensibility, which begins in Sussex. The only reference to wine in the novel is a sweet wine, although I could imagine the characters sipping on a Sugrue wine while pontificating on who’s allowed to marry who. While I’ve tasted a few excellent still wines (Sandridge Barton’s Pinot Noir is delicious), I’ve been more impressed with the sparkling examples. One of the names to know is Dermot Sugrue, who alongside his partner Ana, set up Sugrue South Downs in 2008.

Dermot Sugrue has been a big player in English sparkling wine since its inception. He cut his teeth at Nyetimber and later, he made Wiston Estate the name it is today. Vineyard and terroir has always been at the core of Sugrue South Downs so instead of buying fruit from other vineyards, they planted a small vineyard at Storrington Priory in West Sussex in 2006. The first cuvee they made was ‘’The Trouble with Dreams’’ with grapes coming from this vineyard. Now, they have many more wines all with intriguing names such as: Ex Machina and Zodo.

There’s a quirkiness to the Sugrue wines, an unwillingness to be ultra commercial. However, all eccentricities are always underpinned with technical knowhow. Dermot and Ana are skilled winemakers who know their terroirs inside and out.

With the price of NV Champagne rising to a hard-to-justify amount, I urge you to try wines from Sugrue South Downs. For the same price as Bollinger Special Cuvee, you will taste something that speaks of the English countryside with the techniques of Northern France.

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Tasting note-

I hate to say creamy mousse, as it’s a well trodden WSET exam term but my first impression of this wine is it smells like a pot of double cream. After a few swirls to aerate the wine, the lactic energy converts into citrus. I haven’t even tasted it yet but it smells like biting into a lemon (not that anyone does that, do they?!). One issue I’ve had previously with English sparklings is they can be too lemony. Some feel like drinking citrus bleach! Trouble with Dreams avoids this because there’s depth alongside bite. On the palate there are notes of lemon meringue pie, sherbet and flint. There’s a saltiness at the end which reminds me of the outside of an oyster shell. This isn’t overly fruity but in my opinion, the best sparkling wines rise above fruit.

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Buy me a coffee (or a bottle!)

Buy me a coffee (or a bottle!)

Recently, I noticed one of my favourite producers on a restaurant wine list at a very reasonable price. This never happens, so I quickly ordered a bottle of 2023 Albahra made by Envinate. ‘This is the last bottle’ said the waiter. I’m sure it is at that price! Phew. I hadn’t missed out. It was only on explaining my knee-jerk reaction to my husband that I started to think about wine producers as a whole. Envinate are a collective, which makes them different from the traditional grower and winemaker model, so I thought I’d break down the different pieces of the winemaking pie.

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The Collective

The collective is a group of people who come together to make wine. Often, they won’t own the land, leasing the grapes from growers. They have the advantage of picking and choosing the plots they want, leaving unpromising areas alone. Collective winemakers have a vision. In Envinate’s case, they seek out single vineyards in Spain and the Canary Islands. They want to reignite historic, yet under-appreciated regions such as Ribeira Sacra through producing wines from old vineyards. As you’d expect, their winemaking style takes a back seat to the natural flavours inherent in the grapes. The group is made up of Laura Ramos, Jose Martínez, Roberto Santana and Alfonso Torrente. They met while studying oenology at the University of Miguel Hernández in Alicante and have reconvened years later with the mission to establish Spain’s forgotten vineyards. Envinate are responsible for making wines from Tenerife cool again!

The benefit of being in a collective is the breadth of knowledge that comes from multiple brains. These four friends have so much to bring to the party. The disadvantage might be that there are too many voices, making it hard to make decisions. Is there a lot of back and forth within the group? Do they split the work equally? Whatever their working method, they have totally smashed it. Envinate are incredibly successful, with most trendy restaurants and wine shops eager to secure an allocation of their wines. I really enjoyed their red, Albahra from Spain’s Castilla-La Mancha region but this white wine, made in Tenerife, is their standout.

The Grower

There’s a distinction between the person who owns the vineyard and grows the grapes and the person who makes the wine in the winery. The grower typically owns the land on which the grapes grow. They are deeply connected to the vineyard and are most similar to farmers. Some growers sell their grapes to winemakers, focusing only on viticulture, but some will be involved in the whole process starting with viticulture, vinification and bottling. When I think of growers, I think of family-run, small producers who are actively involved in every area of wine production. Burgundy and Piedmont are two regions I associate with growers. The producers in this area will own their vines and own their wineries. Gaja is one producer in Barbaresco that has all family members in its employment. Angelo Gaja propelled his family’s estate into notoriety in 1961. Now, his children, Gaia and Rossana, and son Giovanni are all actively involved. One will take on exports, one might do the marketing and the other will be the winemaker. I am always jealous of winemaking families. They must have zero career anxiety. Even if some of the children go off and study abroad or work in finance, they always come back. The pull of ‘the grower’ is strong! So, the grower in this context is the full package. They are doing everything themselves but note that sometimes a grower can mean grape farmer, not winemaker.

The Winemaker

This person or group is responsible for the magical process of turning grapes into wine. Unlike the grower, who is very much tied to the vineyard, the winemaker will base themselves in the winery. However, the best winemakers should also have extensive knowledge of the vineyard. Understanding viticulture and vinification often go hand in hand, which is why some growers double up as winemakers. I know lots of small domaines in Burgundy where the winemaker is also the grower, tending to the vines, picking the grapes and making the wine. They are busy people! Yet, there are also winemakers whose only job is to make the wine. They won’t own the land, they will be brought in to make the wine. Some winemakers will be attached to a certain producer, working there for at least a few vintages. Others become consultant winemakers, which is where the money is at! Consultants such as Michel Rolland and Stéphane Derenoncourt are vinification celebrities. They are rolled out to put their magic touch on wines from all around the world. Michel Rolland will count hundreds of producers as clients and his influence can be felt everywhere. If you have the cash, why not hire Bordeaux’s big hitter winemakers to add a je ne sais quoi to your wines?

Flying winemakers are similar to consultants but with less clout. They are typically young, starting out in their careers and eager to learn. This leads them to travel around the world, assisting with winemaking wherever they can find it. They might do a vintage in Australia and then head over to Burgundy to do it all over again. Wines are produced in both the Northern and Southern hemisphere, meaning there are ample opportunities to makes wine. I imagine this nomadic life is very fulfilling when you’re young. On the road, gleaning tips from skilled winemakers, possibly learning a language and immersing yourself in a new culture for a harvest before moving on.

I often find winemakers to be bookish and analytical. Whereas growers are more like straight-down-the-line farmers, winemakers tend to be more polished and scientific. It is vital to have an experienced winemaker who can rely on their knowledge but also their intuition.

The Co-operative

Co-ops are associations of growers and winemakers who work together to produce wine collectively. These are people who don’t have their own winery but they still want to make a wine from their grapes. There are lots of co-ops in France for exactly this reason. Vineyard ownership can be very fragmented so even though you might own a line of vines, you lack the resources to turn it into wine. This pooling of resources is clever because costs can be kept low. Anyone who wants to get involved can; co-ops bind communities together. Co-operative wines tend to be good value and are designed for both locals to drink and for export. The wines might be little less polished but the shared knowledge and experience can often lead to very interesting wines. While it sounds cuddly and friendly, I’m sure there is a lot of in-fighting in co-ops around the world. I imagine some co-ops are the wine version of a parish council, full of disagreements about menial tasks. One of the most well-organised and effective co-operatives is Produttori del Barbaresco. Founded in 1958, it now has 50 members with 120 hectares of Nebbiolo vineyards. Making a variety of wines, from crus to village, this co-op continues to make excellent wines using local grapes handed down through the generations.

Buy me a coffee (or a bottle!)

Majestic has been on my radar ever since I became wine conscious, as I remember accompanying my parents to our local Majestic shops. Majestic’s whole look is slightly rough and ready, with cases piled up, and so much to look at but I was impressed from quite a young age. Majestic was my first experience of a shop solely dedicated to the selling of wine and they remain a much-loved retail space. Majestic doesn’t just sell a lot of wine to a wide net of people (they have 200 stores in the UK!) but it’s also the stepping stone that most of my previous colleagues used to get into the wine industry. Majestic is a breeding ground for talented wine professionals and that alone is a reason to step inside. Majestic’s influence cannot be understated yet I rarely buy wine from them.

With this in mind, I wanted to order a few wines from Majestic as a counterpoint to one of my favourite shops, The Sourcing Table in Peckham. The latter is full of esoteric wines that I’ve grown to call my favourites whereas Majestic has always felt a bit too mainstream. There’s nothing trendy about Majestic but the fact that they have been in operation since 1980 and are still going strong, shows they sit above trends. The word often associated with Majestic is value. Scanning their website, I was surprised at how many wines were on offer in the £10-£15 range. With current duty prices and other insurmountable costs, this is an impressive feat.

I perused the website for a while and even though there are some well-known names and wines I like, I found it hard to get excited. There isn’t anything eccentric about Majestic’s list but how can I blame them? They are the largest specialist wine retailer in the UK, not a quirky wine shop in South East London!

However, their ‘Mix Six’ deal is a genuinely excellent proposition. You can buy a mix of any six bottles at discounted prices. They don’t even make you order six of the same wine! You are encouraged to order mixed cases, which really sets them apart from most other merchants. This deal makes wines that are slightly over budget affordable, allowing for experimentation. If wines are always a little too expensive, you’ll tend to stick to what you know (and can afford). Majestic clearly want to encourage larger orders, which is where they do well. Weddings, parties, celebrations, Majestic is often the supplier. They offer free delivery on orders over £99, again, to encourage larger orders. I’m fine with this because I find the idea of single bottles rattling around delivery vans not very eco-friendly.

Their website is simple but efficient, with clear ways to search. The selection is varied with the emphasis being on wines at the cheaper end of the scale. It’s hard to find good-quality, ‘cheap’ US wines so their USA collection is a bit slim but they are big in Spain, Portugal and France.

Let’s dive into my order to see if this ‘value’ merchant can win me over. All references to prices refer to the Mix Six deal.

*=liked

**= would buy again

‘Main Divide’ Pegasus Bay Riesling, New Zealand*

This is a very unctuous Riesling with bags of mouth-coating glycerol. Glycerol is a by-product of fermentation and it contributes to body and texture. Glycerol can also create a sweet sensation in wines, which I can feel here. Tinned peach juice, grapefruit, candied orange peel are all present but this isn’t a sweet wine. The acidity could be more pronounced but if you find white wines have too much bite, this Riesling is for you. This bottle would pair nicely with Indian food with the hint of sweetness tempering chili heat.

Managers’ Choice: Agenda Red, Dão, Portugal

This is a very average red wine. So average on every level, it’s hard to describe. This wine is a manifestation of my fears and something that keeps me up at night! These bland wines are everywhere and do nothing for wine’s reputation as a whole. They are neither unappealing or delicious and they certainly don’t spark joy. I worry that there are too many of these sorts of wines being sold at the moment. By trying to connect with the masses, you connect with no one. Generic black fruit, no structure but easy to drink, this is a boring wine and I don’t like boring!

Villiera Cap Classique, South Africa**

With an alcohol level of 11.5%, this sparkling is refreshingly light, even though the palate is rich. It reminds me of a Blanc de Blancs Champagne with nutty, toasty and sweet caramel pastry notes. There is acidity, which stops this from being cloying but you really can feel the warmth of Stellenbosch. Fruit flavours of mango, lychee and sweet melon are evidence of this. Villiera Cap Classique is much more tropical than say a citrus-fuelled English sparkling. Let’s not forget that Cap Classique is a labelling term in South Africa for wines made using the traditional method. Champagne is made using the traditional method but you would be dreaming to think you could buy a bottle of Champagne for £14.50!

2022 Rasteau, Famille Perrin, France

Famille Perrin is a prestigious producer but this wine falls short. Rasteau is an area in the Southern Rhône primarily known for producing sweet wines but red wines are also made here. The climate is hot so varieties such as Grenache, Syrah, and Mourvèdre thrive, and are usually blended to create full bodied reds. I found this wine a little hot. Yes, there were flavours of

sweet, black fruit, vanilla, liquorice but it all felt a bit soupy. It’s perfectly drinkable but I found myself having to ‘get through it’ towards the end.

2024 Inama Soave Classico, Italy*

I’ve had firsthand experience with this producer, when they came into taste with us at Bordeaux Index. I left the tasting thinking Inama make great Soave. Sadly, I found this bottle didn’t tally with my original experience and I found it a little underwhelming. It’s a young wine so I wonder if leaving it for another year would help flesh it out but we don’t necessarily buy wines to age from Majestic. There are positives. It’s a clean, round white wine with lovely hints of almond, almost marzipan and there’s absolutely no oak, so Garganega shines through. It’s a nice change from the oaky wines I tend to drink a lot of and for the price it’s an excellent wine to have in the fridge.

2023 Single Vineyard Pinot Noir, Errazuriz, Chile**

Reminiscent of New Zealand pinots such as Akitu and Doctor’s Flat, I really enjoyed this. Crunchy red fruit and hints of stone, this Chilean bottle does not disappoint. Pinot Noirs on the cheaper end of the scale can often be insipid and too thin but this one was on the right side of easy drinking. I enjoyed its lightness because there was enough fruit to carry it through. Errazuriz is now run by Eduardo Chadwick, who has pushed Chilean wine onto the global stage. They make an array of wines at different price points and this one is one of their best value wines. For £10.50, this is a steal. It’s a genuinely lovely, fruity wine that I’d be happy to serve to my most winey friends.

2020, Aster, Ribera del Duero, Spain*

I visited this estate many moons ago and I remember being very impressed by the house and the winery. The countryside in this part of Spain is unassumingly stunning. Aster is La Rioja Alta’s Ribera del Duero outpost and I’d slightly forgotten about it due to the dominance of the latter in my wine sales life. It was all about La Rioja Alta’s 904 and 890 on the sales desk so Aster never got a look in. It’s a pleasure to be able to buy a bottle that is six years old from someone as high volume as Majestic. They’ve made the right call offering this vintage because this wine needs time. I can taste the leathery saddle note I often find in these big spanish wines, which goes so well with the luscious black cherry and plum notes. This is a supple yet powerful wine and one that does require food. Coming in at a cool 14.5%abv, this is one for fans of body.

Amy, how would you define your role at Pink Diesel?

I’m the co-founder but I see myself more as the main driver. Logistics, PR, marketing - you name it, I’m doing everything to drive the company forward. Marina Ayton, a great friend who I went to school with, is my co-founder. She is now more of a silent partner and a brilliant ambassador, while pursuing her own career. So, yes, it’s just me driving the ship!

I’m fascinated by the day to day, the nuts of bolts of how people work. Working from home or office? Colleagues or solo work? Lots of travel and entertaining? I want to know the ins and outs of a typical day, so what does a day at Pink Diesel look like?

No day is the same, especially with a rosé brand. I split the year into two: high and low season. The lines between high (spring/summer) and low (autumn/winter) are blurring more and more because people are drinking rosé more consistently but regardless, people aren’t out and about as much in winter and the rosé river isn’t flowing as fast.

The first half of the calendar year, or certainly January, February, March, is the time for business development. This is the time to really think about restaurants and pub groups, as they will all be starting to curate their wine lists for the launch of spring or summer menus. With big pub groups, or serious restaurant groups, you only really get only two openings throughout the year to get onto those lists. Supermarkets change their listings once a year, so you’ve got to prepare for these opportunities when it’s quieter. I spend a lot more time organising and planning, which means I’m more desk based during these months. However, I try to keep my meetings and tastings up.

The second half of the year is full of events, which I plan and partake in. We’ve done events at the Goodwood Revival Festival and opened a pop-up bar in Covent Garden. The summer is all about getting people to open and enjoy Pink Diesel so I’m always out and about. The Pink Diesel van turns up around the country in the summer and I’m in the office a lot less.

So you’re an office person?

Absolutely. I’m really regimented with my routine and I find working from home hard. I now rent a desk off a friend in an office at the end of the Golborne Road and I make sure I have at least two days in the office a week in the summer and at least three, if not four, during the colder months. A balance has to be struck in the summer. When it’s busy, and the orders are flying out, I need to keep on top of things and the office helps with that. But, if I’m behind a screen and I’m not out selling, representing the brand and the dream then it all falls apart.

So no 9-5 schedule for you?

I used to have a really strict schedule and I put a lot of pressure on myself. I was adamant I had to be at my desk by 8:30am and under no circumstances would I leave by 6pm. Then I started to realise that running your own business is like having a baby. You’re always trying to keep the baby alive. You feel like, if you don’t stop doing it, it will stop breathing. My inner narrative was so unkind. I’d regularly fend off my own punishing thoughts like ‘‘you weren’t in at 9am, you’re slacking!’’. That was so detrimental, because I wasn’t proving anything by trying to be in earlier or staying later when I wasn’t actually doing any work. I wasn’t seeing my friends or doing any exercise, so last year I was better at being kinder to myself. I can do a mid-morning exercise class because I worked all weekend. I can rationalise a lot better now.

Do you have colleagues?

I have a freelance sales director and a freelance financial director who help me with the numbers and strategy, but no one is full time.

Do you find that lonely?

Yeah, I do. I think it helps now that I work in an office with other people, but I’m a people person. I make up for the lack of colleagues by attending loads of founder and female entrepreneur network events. When I first started, after leaving my previous job, I made a rule to meet a drinks founder every week for the first six months. It’s hard to trust your instincts when you don’t have someone to bounce ideas off of but I have a great network now, which helps.

Thank you for indulging my nosiness, but now we should go back to the beginning. Can you tell me how you got into starting a rosé brand in the first place?

Like many good ideas, it was born around a kitchen table. Marina and I had spent a lot of time together drinking rosé in lockdown and Marina was interested in creating an alcohol brand. She originally wanted to look at gin and I said, I don’t drink gin, so I wouldn’t be interested in doing that. The seed was clearly sown though because that night, I went to bed and sort of sprung up in the early hours and was struck by a thought. Pink Diesel would be a great name for a rosé brand.

Before lockdown, I had been living and working in Hong Kong for two years where my interest in rosé started. I worked for The Flying Winemaker, who had three different rosé blends, which he made in Australia and brought over to Asia. He approached me with a problem. He couldn’t get his rosés into any of the restaurants in Hong Kong because Whispering Angel had the monopoly. I might not have had previous wine experience but I do have a creative brain so I devised this Pink Dim Sum menu. It was served at lunchtime in a restaurant I also worked with, and we paired each Dim Sum course with his each of his rosés. It was really successful, becoming a huge Instagram thing, and his rosés became the talk of the town. Then the restaurant started listing the rosés, which led to other high end restaurants wanting to get in on the action. The whole experience gave me a taste for branding, events and of course, rosé.

Putting your time in Hong Kong aside, do you feel having no prior wine trade experience has been a help or a hinderance?

I think it’s been my superpower. I’m not a huge wine person and I actually, shamelessly, haven’t even done my WSET levels (I am in the process of!) but this hasn’t held me back. At the beginning, my lack of inside trade knowledge gave me a naivety that helped when walking into a room of mostly men who have been in the industry for thirty years.

The name is iconic. Did you have any other brand iterations before you settled on Pink Diesel?

After my premonition, it was always Pink Diesel. No other names came close. We’ve had a bit of backlash with diesel’s negative impact on the environment being one complaint, but we stuck to the name. Pink Diesel plays on rosé being derogatively referred to as lady petrol or bitch diesel. Why are women always penalised for drinking? I heard a story once of a husband seeing his wife drinking a glass of Whispering Angel before remarking, ‘’she’ll now be a whispering headache’’. Why do we get that? Men can drink as much as they want without negativity and derision. So, we wanted to keep the punch and Pink Diesel felt the right name to do so with.

How difficult was finding a supplier? Do you still work with the same one?

Finding a supplier was definitely a process. When the idea started to grow, I rang the person who, to me, knows the most about wine, and that’s my dad. I said ‘’you know, we’ve got this idea for a rosé brand? Well, I’ve got the name, but I don’t have the liquid.’’ My dad replied ‘’well, most people start with the product, Amy, but okay.’’ Thankfully, he remained positive and put me in touch with everyone he knew in the wine world. There was one man who kindly put me in touch with loads of Provence producers, who would be interested in working with us. Initially, we just wanted to buy someone’s already made wine and slap our label onto it. We weren’t ready to create a blend at that stage. We tried nearly 80 different blends, around the kitchen table with our housemates pretending like we knew anything about wine! Finally, we found the blend we clicked with and luckily, the producer was as good as the wine. We have stuck with them and I consider them our secret weapon. They’re the real magicians, not me! They make the most amazing, delicious blend, while practicing sustainable harvesting and I couldn’t have hoped for a better partner.

What has been your career high and career low?

My high point has to be when Keith Prowse, a big hospitality partner, asked me to speak on a panel at Wimbledon. They asked me to speak alongside ex-pro British player Laura Robson and ex-Olympic skier Chemmy Alcott about being a founder. That was a real pinch-me moment because Wimbledon is such a cool brand and place to be associated with. In fact, our listing at Wimbledon full stop is my highest achievement. We have been Keith Prowse’s exclusive rosé serve for two years in a row. We won this off the back of blind taste tests - I’m proud of that.

The low point was around this time last year. We had very nearly run out of money. I had hired a Commercial Director but the employment relationship had not worked out and he was exiting. There were some really tricky conversations around that. You’d think you’d say ‘’I’m gonna put an end to all of this and go back to someone else paying my salary, maybe getting some health insurance?’’. Yet, when you think you’re knocking on a closed door, you find another gear, and actually, it’s in those times of desperation, you kind of find a weird new love. I’ve worked so hard to even get here. I cannot give up now, this is all part and parcel of it.

What do you wish you’d known at the beginning that you know now?

The importance of wholesalers. A strong relationship with a successful wholesaler is the only way. If you’re trying to get trade listings it’s imperative. My lesson to any burgeoning drinks brands is to focus. If you’re going after a distributor such as Enotria, go to them and find out who they are selling to and get in with those places. I went for the scatter gun approach and I spread myself and Pink Diesel too thin. I felt like I was dating loads of people but none of them wanted to get into a relationship with me!

My experience working in wine sales revealed how much most people hate making phone calls, preferring the anonymity of emails. What do you prefer?

Nothing beats face to face. I’ll take a train to Inverness, taking out a whole day, if that’s what it takes! In the early days, I would hide behind emails and wonder ‘’why am I not getting anywhere?’’. I quickly realised I would have to pick up the phone if I wanted to make things happen, but that comes with confidence. Beyond that, I also turn up on doorstops. We still don’t have a bricks and mortar shelf space, so every time I pass a Jeroboams or an Amathus, I pop in, say hi, and let them taste the latest vintage. I’ll keep doing this until they list Pink Diesel.

How ‘social’ is your job? Do you find you have to consume a lot of alcohol? If yes, how do you manage it all?

It is extremely social but the balance, I have to say, is something I’m really good. Firstly, I get terrible hangovers, so it’s just not worth it. Throw in the anxiety of waking up the next morning and not having anyone to call and say, ‘’do you mind covering me?’’. I don’t have the luxury of that, so I just don’t do it. Occasionally, l’ll have a glass at an event but usually I’m not drinking at all. It’s something I stick to and I feel all the better for it. You need to keep yourself on the straight and narrow.

Have you noticed any emerging trends in the last 12 months?

I’m easily swayed by what other rosé brands are doing. Trends such as non-alcoholic, low abv and sparkling are all being explored but I try to stay in my lane. My main focus is what are my customers are doing rather than following trends. How are they drinking? Where are they drinking?

What’s more important? Taste or brand?

It’s a bit chicken and the egg isn’t it? At the end of the day, if the quality isn’t good enough, it won’t sell. Fancy labels and gimmicky names won’t help if the wine doesn’t taste great!

Anything exciting ahead for Pink Diesel in 2026?

I want to do what Fever-Tree did to Schweppes to Whispering Angel! That’s the goal.

Amy, thank you for your time. I absolutely loved hearing about how you started, how you operate now and what you’ve learnt along the way. You can order Pink Diesel via the website and or check out their Instagram pink_diesel.

It’s in my free time that I research interesting grape varieties, taste new wines and travel to wine regions. My mission is to keep sharing these adventures and discoveries with you for as long as possible through this newsletter. If you’d like to support me, you can donate any amount via the button below. I’d be forever grateful.

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Pinot Grigio is universally loved for its neutrality and it remains a bestseller in the UK. You will always see Pinot Grigio in pub fridges and supermarket shelves; it’s a banker for retail and restaurants. Pinot Gris is the opposite. You will not find it in supermarkets and you’d be lucky to find more than one offering in wine shops. It’s not a trendy variety nor is it grown in up and coming regions, thriving instead in France’s Alsace and Germany. There’s something about Northern Europe’s wines that does not excite drinkers in the same way, so Pinot Gris fades further into the background.

I often talk about pushing myself out of my wine comfort zone but sometimes I don’t practice what I preach. Pinot Gris is not usually high on my wishlist but, in the quest to broaden my horizons, I picked up a bottle, while travelling in New Zealand earlier this year. I’m glad I did because this one wine was the catalyst for my exploration into the shades of Pinot Gris. The bottle in question was Man O War 2024 Exiled Pinot Gris from Waiheke Island.

I can’t stop thinking about it. Why didn’t I pack a bottle in my suitcase? I was so enamoured by it that I didn’t even take a bottle photo! Each sip unlocked a different sensation - my iPhone paled into insignificance. The wine was full of tropical fruit: sticky mango with lychee and passion fruit. Blossom mingled with peach syrup, honey and grapefruit pith. There was more acidity than I thought was possible with Pinot Gris. The usual fattiness of the grape was tempered by flecks of citrus. Was there a touch of residual sugar? I thought so although the alcohol level didn’t give anything away but does it matter? Sometimes you have to let the wine tell its story without fact checking.

Man O War is situated in the far east corner of Waiheke Island. Unlike other wineries that are easily accessible, this estate is a mission to get to. Winding roads give way to one dirt track meaning only the most dedicated make it there. Man O War have vineyards all over this craggy side of the island. Luscious greens give way to sharp cliffs and turquoise sea. The vineyards undulate on slopes and bays - it’s a beautiful setting for a winery, one that reminded me of Swallows and Amazons. Chardonnay and Syrah make up the majority of the plantings but they also grow a small amount of Pinot Gris. For all its anonymity over here, Pinot Gris is a popular variety in New Zealand. I like that New Zealand has adopted Pinot Gris. They could have gone for Albariño or Chenin Blanc but they plucked out Pinot Gris, like the last puppy in a litter, and have lovingly cultivated it ever since.

Pinot Gris performs well in a handful of places; it is not as adaptable as say, Chardonnay. The most compelling examples in Europe come from Alsace. This easterly region in France has lots in common with its neighbour, Germany. The architecture and food are similiar so it’s no surprise that the wines produced would be allies. Pinot Gris grown in Alsace has a pinkish tinge to its skins and the wines are usually characterised by roundness and texture. As is so often the case with European food and wine, Pinot Gris is a match made in heaven for Alsace’s rich cuisine. The big names in Alsace are Zind-Humbrecht, Trimbach and Hugel but there are lots of small artisanal producers too. In New Zealand most producers have a Pinot Gris cuvee in their collections. The incredible thing about this underappreciated grape is you can buy at its top level without spending more than £30 per bottle and in most cases, less. I can’t stress enough how unusual this is. If you want to buy from the top producers in Champagne, Bordeaux or California you’ll often have to remortgage your house! There’s a lot to gain from getting into grapes that have been left out in the cold.

Before my vinous/religious experience, I’d never been a huge fan of Alsace Pinot Gris. I used to find it too fatty and perhaps a little too unctuous but the Man O War bottle opened my eyes. If you’re searching for the bite of acidity or the nuttiness of oak, look elsewhere. Pinot Gris lacks bite but it is different and I believe all wine lovers should be curious.

This is not so much an ode but a wake up call. If you like wine, you have to keep tasting. Even the grape varieties you think you disliked, and the ones you put in a metaphorical box and threw away the key. These grapes deserve another chance. One bottle can completely change your mindset, flicking a switch. One bottle can turn you from a critic to a supporter. This one bottle of Pinot Gris converted me so I will now swap my usual Chardonnays and Chenin Blancs for Pinot Gris from around the world. This bottle was the gateway, let’s see what lies in store for Pinot Gris and me.

It’s in my free time that I research interesting grape varieties, taste new wines and travel to wine regions. My mission is to keep sharing these adventures and discoveries with you for as long as possible through this newsletter. If you’d like to support me, you can donate any amount via the button below. I’d be forever grateful.

Buy me a coffee (or a bottle!)

Any questions, please get in touch.

Most people will agree that however much you adore your child, a weekend away from them is something to be cherished. We managed to orchestrate a ‘weekend off baby’ back in November and we settled on Amsterdam, mainly because I am obsessed with the Eurostar. My last visit to Amsterdam was back in 2011. I could vaguely remember the canals and the Rijksmuseum but I was a different soul back then. Perhaps Amsterdam hasn’t changed much but I have. Back then, I had no idea about what I actually enjoyed doing but now I want to have a nice time and I know how to get there. Restaurant reservations (trying and failing to get into restaurants is the fastest way to a huge argument), wine lists, 20,000 step days, and a bit of art is my perfect weekend away.

I had collated recommendations from my bon viveur friends, so I was armed and ready to have an amazing time. Yet, there is always a lot riding on these reservations because who wants to waste a precious meal on an average spot? I needn’t have worried though because there was Toscanini, a place that has quickly become one of my favourite restaurants ever. At the time, I thought Italian food in Amsterdam might not work but boy did Toscanini work. Our Saturday lunch reservation is something I reminisce about daily, while guiding my pram around familiar pavements.

Toscanini was founded in 1985 but 1999 was the important year when it moved into its current space on the Lindengracht. We were told by our waiter that the building has expanded over the years, correlating to the demand of local eaters. The food has always been Italian yet the dishes often come with a twist.

Let’s talk about the space first because this really set the tone. On arrival, you can’t see in from the outside, which is always exciting. What lies behind the timber doors? Once inside, I felt the overwhelming smugness of someone who has a reservation and cannot be turned away. I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a moment of doubt. What if I’d booked for November 2026, as I’ve done in the past? Luckily, said blunder did not follow me to Amsterdam. Our reservation shone through the online booking system like a newly-discovered diamond. Before being ushered into the main space, we dropped off our coats. An area for outerwear is a nice touch because nothing ruins a space quicker than bulky bags and jackets. The admin was done.

It was time for the main event, the start of our lunch. Walking into the main space was akin to a religious experience. The light! It felt like walking into a Church’s nave on summer’s day. Yes, the weather was impeccable with sunlight pouring in through the skylight, but still. Toscanini’s main room would rock even on a grey day. The central skylight anchors the room, allowing natural light to create the atmosphere. The design is part industrial, part art gallery. The combination of white tablecloths, cream walls and brown chairs makes it a place of light and shade. The space culminates in the open kitchen at the rear, which is just the right amount of hectic. It’s open, it’s light and there’s no music! The hum of the diners is all you need. Toscanini avoids the table layout I detest, which is lots of tables for two packed in a line. I don’t want to have dinner with another couple! At Toscanini two-person tables are laid out in a fan shape, facing the kitchen so you feel you’re at a private party being cooked for by a team of chefs.

At this point, I’m already having the time of my life and we haven’t even ordered. The beautiful space has upped the ante so my expectations are high. Often service is where an experience starts to lag. Not at Toscanini! The bevy of young waiters who seem to be having the best time adds to the relaxed ease of this restaurant. Our waiter was young, cool and friendly. When he casually mentioned that he’d worked at Toscanini for 10 years, I knew I was in the presence of a great restaurant. He’d worked on and off as a student and as most young people do they go off in search of a desk job. After a stint in advertising, he felt the pull to return to the floor and now he’s full time at Toscanini. Recently, he’s moving into the wine side of the restaurant, which I’m sure will lead to a happy life. Here’s a place that clearly nurtures their staff, pushing them out of their comfort zones and giving them the progression that’s so often missing.

The food at Toscanini was a silent partner to the overall vibe. For me, food isn’t the most important cog of the restaurant machine so I was very content with what came out of the pass. We had giant rigatoni, which still had a bite with sausage ragu that was packed with fennel seeds. A starter was bitter chicory, goats cheese, pear and the plumpest hazelnuts you’ve ever seen. Chocolate sorbet and vanilla ice cream to finish was simple but just the right amount of sweetness. An all Italian wine list was to be expected but they don’t only focus on the big names. They have chunky sections on Friuli-Venezia Giulia and Lombardy, and their Barolo section is split into villages. The mark up wasn’t crazy either. We tried a Timorasso by the glass and a bottle of Produttori del Barbaresco’s Langhe Nebbiolo. Great glassware too! The wine list is one of the reasons why I wish I could return with a bigger group. You can try more things, spreading the cost.

Post-baby, I can’t get out as much as I’d like so when I do, I want all exterior experiences rolled into one. Good food and wine are important but it’s the intangible buzz of great atmosphere that will cement a restaurant in my heart and head. Toscanini is everything a restaurant should be and they seem to pull it off effortlessly. Of course, I didn’t take any photos. I was having too much fun. You will just have to go and see for yourself.

It’s in my free time that I research interesting grape varieties, taste new wines and travel to wine regions. My mission is to keep sharing these adventures and discoveries with you for as long as possible through this newsletter. If you’d like to support me, you can donate any amount via the button below. I’d be forever grateful.

Buy me a coffee (or a bottle!)