MAY 18 2016
Where would we be without wine journalism? The answer is Turkey.
Among the very many things I learned this week in a short visit to the brilliant Kavaklidere vineyards and winery in Pendore (a couple of hours east of Izmir) was that the Turkish government has banned wine criticism, at least as we would recognise it. Journalists aren’t allowed to review and recommend wines. Advertising is off limits. Taxes are punitive.
Wine tourism isn’t likely to get going any time soon so it was a real privilege for us, as foreigners, to see the scenery and facilities over a memorable couple of days in the company of a young and enthusiastic Kavaklidere team.
Our group of five independent merchants arrived with an open mind and left convinced that Turkey deserves the chance to prove itself on their shelves. The wines are terrific, but will need some hand-selling. They’re worth the effort.
A bit of media exposure will help their cause, too. It’s a tragedy that Turks don’t get the chance to read about their own wines, but thankfully Turkish law doesn’t apply to The Wine Merchant, and we’ll be reporting on the visit in more depth in our July issue.
MAY 9 2016
Freeloaders at the fair
Our stand at the London Wine Fair was pretty much packed from the moment we opened for business on Tuesday morning right the way through to closing time on Thursday evening. We had a great crowd and it was good to see so many independents tasting the Top 100 wines that we’d opened.
Not everyone who came along was an independent merchant, of course, and that’s absolutely fine. Indies make up a small percentage of the fair’s traffic and we expected to see our fair share of consultants, Majestic managers and the rest. We don’t tend to be sniffy about this: some of these people are the independents of tomorrow, and we’re happy to let them sample our winning wines.
But, as with so many London tastings, there’s a small freeloading element. They don’t tend to find much use for spittoons. They have a habit of talking loudly and leaning on counters, often with their lunch in front of them. They are particularly curious about expensive Champagnes.
We’ve become pretty astute at spotting these characters and moved them on without ceremony once we’d clocked them, and by and large they didn’t put up much of a protest. And to be honest, as proceedings drew to a close on Thursday afternoon, we didn’t bother chasing after the guy who swiped the two three-quarters empty bottles of red when he thought we weren’t looking. The well-dressed lady in her 60s who reckoned it was OK to help herself to the remaining bottles in our fridge was encouraged to find her fun elsewhere, without us resorting to any unpleasantness. But bravo to whoever nicked our branded hessian bag and our green stickers (required for any bottles removed from the show with the blessing of the stand owner) – we didn’t spot you at all.
Actually, by that point we’d started to feel a bit sorry for our freeloading fraternity. If getting pissed on the cheap at a trade fair is how you get your kicks, what on earth does that say about your social life?
APRIL 14 2016
Are independents beginning to look the same?
For several years now independent wine retailers have proudly broken the mould with their new (or refurbished) shops. Gone are the dark, intimidating caves of yesteryear and instead we have big windows, bright lights, exposed brickwork, stripped floors and chalkboards the size of snooker tables.
The trend has been universally welcomed as a good thing, attracting the kind of customers who were traditionally intimidated by wine merchants – typically women and younger or less wine-savvy consumers.
An interesting article in The Oldie skewers the concept, at least a little. “A common complaint about chain shops is that they make all towns look the same but most independent shops slavishly follow a look, too,” it points out.
“If you go to gentrified seaside resorts in Norfolk or Suffolk, everything is painted in pale blue. In cities, independent coffee shops are always decked out in white tiles with a chalkboard on the wall. They do identical-looking sandwiches that sit on black slates on the counter. It’s a similar story in bars with their exposed light bulbs, brickwork and mismatched wooden furniture. They often stock the same craft beers and get their wines from the same distributor.”
It goes on: “The staff all look the same, too, with their beards, tattoos and check shirts. They might as well being wearing a uniform.”
APRIL 6 2016
Don’t forget about the price tag
We all like to think we can spot a great wine when we taste one. But is it worth the price tag? This was a dilemma that reared its head all yesterday afternoon at The Wine Merchant Top 100 judging.
“We like this a lot,” judges would say. “We’re just not sure it’s really worth £21.99/£38/£45.”
So what kind of score do you give a wine that’s technically brilliant but which you’d feel uncomfortable selling at the same level as other wines that are even better?
In our competition, you have to deduct a few points. It’s harsh, but then it’s a harsh trading environment. If a customer walks into a wine merchant and is persuaded to spend £30 instead of their more usual £15, the seller needs to have faith that the buyer will see the benefit of that extra investment. If they don’t … why would they want to return?
FEBRUARY 11 2016
Why Saturday Kitchen really had no option
It’s not controversial to say that supermarkets have less interesting wine ranges than they used to offer. It’s absolutely true to point out that the number of wines available is falling. And it’s a basic law of economics that you can’t go on hitting £5, £6 and £7 price points year after year on the same wines – in the face of duty increases and an escalation in other fixed costs – without quality suffering.
Independent merchants don’t complain about any of this. It’s playing straight into their hands. While supermarkets gradually reduce their focus on wine, independents become even more distinctive with their offer.
That’s why Saturday Kitchen’s pledge to bring independents into the fold, as reported in our February issue, isn’t an act of charity, but a sensible editorial judgement.
It does mean a bit more leg-work on the part of the show’s roster of critics. But the results will be better for everyone: producers, suppliers, merchants and viewers.
Yes, it’s been a long time coming, but perhaps those of us who have carped from the sidelines about Saturday Kitchen’s supermarket fixation didn’t fully understand the regulatory environment imposed by Ofcom and the BBC. What seems to have emerged from recent dialogue ought to keep everyone happy.
JANUARY 26 2016
A question of taste or, more specifically, a lack of it
Most people involved in our trade will be routinely asked what their favourite wine is. It’s a question to which it’s hard to provide a useful or honest answer. Rory Stapleton, the original Jolly Vintner at Tiverton, had the right idea when he used to reply: “The one that’s in my glass.”
I find it just as confusing being asked the far more general question: what kind of wines do I like? It’s a subject that rears its head a lot in discussions with independent merchants. The accepted wisdom is that you get to know your customers, and their tastes, and recommend/sell accordingly.
I don’t think I’m a particularly helpful client. I have no idea what my own taste in wine is, and it’s not through any lack of experimentation.
Assuming we’re not talking about stuff that’s genuinely ghastly or bland, I find there’s something to latch on to with most styles of wine. I can experience pleasure with wispy Pinot Noirs and weapons-grade Shiraz. I’ve got excited by lean, austere whites but also oaky Chardonnays that almost resemble olive oil. I find much to admire in funky natural wines that make your head spin, but also appreciate wines so clean and precise that they might have been developed by NASA.
My buying history must look like it’s just randomised data. All I can really say for sure is that I don’t like retsina, but perhaps I just haven’t met the right one yet.
I know people who claim to have a particular taste in wine, and good luck to them. But I don’t envy them their narrowed-down choices.
I won’t live long enough to try all the wines on my to-do list. It would take at least another lifetime to rank the wines I have tried into any sort of order. And even after I’d done that, I’d want to change my mind.
JANUARY 20 2016
Armenia at The Oval
There are, famously, more Armenians living outside Armenia than within it. Thankfully Zorik and Yeraz Gharibian have returned to their ancestral roots and are making wine there.
I tried some of their efforts yesterday, under the Zorah label, at the Liberty Wines tasting. The back story is as captivating as the wines themselves.
Gorbachev wasn’t a fan of wine production in the Soviet Union and decreed that Armenia’s vineyards should be uprooted on public health grounds. And so it was that in the cradle of viticulture, vines were ripped out and winemaking abandoned.
Some vineyards escaped the purge because they were simply too high or remote to bother about. In the Yeghegnadzor region, where vines had flourished at altitudes of up to 1,600 metres, the vineyards just went wild.
Zorik and Yeraz, diaspora Armenians living in Italy, decided to go back to their homeland and revive an ancient art. They’re doing so with a choice of up to 60 indigenous varieties to work with, notably Areni Noir. They’ve tamed the wild vines and planted more of their own. The results are superb.
Wine selling, we’re told, is all about stories. I’m sure The Oval was brimming with them yesterday, but I doubt any were quite as inspiring as this one.