I. Distractions In 1987, when I was 18 and a dollar was worth more than twice as much as it is today, I started reading magazines: M, Esquire, GQ. Nearby, in our somewhat cultured Texas town, a new bookstore opened in a cavernous space that had formerly housed the shag-carpeted roller skating rink of our childhood. Through the front windows, which had before been darkly tinted to give the place an alluring den-of-prepubescent-iniquity vibe, now streamed bright, clean light, showcasing a look and layout that would become the interior design gestalt of today’s national-chain, big-box book superstore. The rows upon rows of open, dustless shelving bearing a veritable warehouse of volumes; the ceiling hung with its industrial innards on display; the enfilade of check-out cubicles; and the wall – the great wall – that displayed a preposterous-to-behold assortment of glossies, quarterlies, journals, newsweeklies, fanzines, tabloids, almanacs, and all other flora and fauna of magazines arrayed upon a rack perhaps 50 feet long.  I went in there to look for a book. I liked books, and, one day, I was sure I wanted to write one. But I got distracted and bought a magazine instead – that August’s issue of GQ, which still stands out in my mind as a thing of formative significance. At that time, the zeitgeist was defined by a Walkman-wearing version of the American Renaissance Man – the highly-ambitious, status-obsessed, money-motivated, health-nut known as a Yuppie. No magazine positioned itself more authoritatively in defining this new sociological creature’s lifestyle than GQ, and it did it with whiter teeth, snappier suspenders, better accessories, bigger polka dots and more caffeine in the ink of its display copy.  I remember that issue less for the photos by Richard Avedon or Steven Meisel, the words of Martin Amis or Frederick Exley, than for this: Erzeugerabfüllung. It was one of the longest, strangest strings of letters from the Roman alphabet I had ever seen. Neither did it seem designed to come out of someone’s mouth. But there it was in Alan Richman’s Wine & Spirits column, accompanied by a lovely still-life photograph of his topic: two bottles of Riesling Kabinetts on a white, sun-dappled tablecloth. Richman’s main point – made almost 35 years ago – still holds true: estate-bottled, table-quality German wines remain some of the least expensive, most delicious wines in the world, chiefly because – then as now – the labels, as he wrote, “cannot be understood by anyone who is not a part-time oenophile, linguist and cartographer”. One US dollar in Richman’s pocket, as I have already said, bought what roughly two-dollars-and-fifty-cents does today; what he was on the hunt for was a good dry white in a range that would now cost somewhere between 12 and 30 bucks, and he easily accomplished that by finding a dealer in New York City who carried a good selection of wines from the Mosel and Rheingau. At the time, I didn’t know the meaning or significance of any of this, but it staked a claim in my brain. The only wine I had ever tasted was the one served at our Episcopal church during Eucharist on Sundays. The flavour it had was of a strange, super-concentrated jam that somehow warmed your upper body. Even as a young kid, I liked it. But the adjectives these German bottles were squeezing out of Richman – “citrus-like”, “honeyed”, “tart-sweet” – weren’t close to describing what was in that chalice, even if you believed in transubstantiation. Was it because Richman’s wine was white, and the parish’s was red? Perhaps, but both colours of grape juice bottled by Welch’s tasted pretty much the same to me. No, I sensed there was something – a lot – I had to learn, and, along with the romance and beauty of the labels, and the contextual air of well-bred taste and cultural with-it-ness featured on the other pages, this, I feel sure, was the decisive moment, the true origin point, when I came to believe that among the many extraordinary things that make life worth living, not just words but wine reigns at the top.  I warned you about distractions, didn’t I? Because that would be my excuse for now informing you, as a quite apropos footnote, that, yes, there was something unusual about our church’s Communion wine. It was, as I have confirmed with the church, actually port (Taylor’s Tawny, to be more accurate), cut, according to tradition, with water. There is a good and fascinating reason for this. In 1701, when the War of the Spanish Succession kicked off, France also became an enemy of England, and its wines, as a result, were no longer made available for import. The Anglican Church searched for and found a replacement, the fortified wines of its new ally, Portugal, and port continues to be an acceptable option to pair with the Host.  II. Distillations A satisfying story, not unlike a satisfying life, is one that surprises you with the mystery of its unfolding. A thing pulls in a certain direction long enough to reach the proximity of something else which then turns toward a new destination. I had actually gone into that bookstore, as I said, to look at books. But I came out, even though I didn’t yet know it, with a different compass point. Within a few years, shortly after graduating from college, in 1992, I got hired by The New Yorker, where I stayed for almost nine years. I then met my future wife, who wisely laughed at the thought we might be able to survive in New York City on my meagre salary, so I went to Vogue, and soon after became the founding editor of Men’s Vogue. After 23 issues, and four years, the financial crisis laid an axe to many magazines, including that one. Eventually, I took on the editorship of Town & Country. Then, finally, in 2016, I moved up to Esquire, the magazine, as it happens, that didn’t offer me a job when The New Yorker did, and became that storied magazine’s editor in chief, until – well, you best read about that in The New York Times.  As far as distractions go, magazines were a good one. They made me who I am, gave me a tremendously worldly education, honed my taste, introduced me to all manner of accomplished people, required me to build quite a wardrobe, and paid me pretty well to do all of this, often with a glass of wine not far out of the picture. There was really no other way I would have ever got to taste all the bottles I have (a lot of the big names people whisper about from Burgundy and Bordeaux, Champagne and also Piedmont, Tuscany and Napa). I built a modest cave à vin of my own by buying the Smith Haut Lafittes of the world way before hedge-fund hoi polloi ran up the prices, and by having access to rare offerings, like 12 bottles of Fiorano, the legendary white wine Alberico Boncompagni Ludovisi, prince of Venosa, made before ripping out all his vines. I smelled the musty perfume of Margaux in the cellar as I watched the workers rack the wine by candlelight. I lured Jay McInerney away from the Wall Street Journal to become my wine columnist; and I once stood in Bordeaux’s town square, tight on 2002 Pétrus, trying with great focus to commune with the statue of Michel de Montaigne while my French friend, a true oenophile, extolled the majesty of the Big Mac’s special sauce.  As the editor of a magazine, curiosity is your profession, even to the point of distraction. Editors – writers, too – are prone to it. It’s a hazard of the gift, and having a jumble of ideas, if you’re any good, is key to making a magazine of any real intellectual or creative daring. Now as a husband and father of three, working from home and trying to be ‘present’, and a still youngish former editor and occasional micro-influencer trying to stave off the solitude to fathom and plot the next phase of a fruitful future, this skill of mine, the strength of which became even more magnified over two decades, is something of a family project.  The way I most often hear the word ‘distraction’ now, for instance, is when it’s being hurled at me in verb form by my wife or daughters accusing me of being more of a phone-enslaved screen vegetable than they are. (I respectfully disagree.) But it’s a sore point for two reasons. One, what I did as an editor is, in a nutshell, now what a smartphone essentially does. Not very imaginatively, of course, and not with taste or charm or originality, but with a bloody, money-grubbing ruthlessness that stalks every step of our digital peregrinations and doesn’t give a twist if the algorithms that are its brain make us its slave by retrofitting our attention spans for kindergarten.  The smartphone – not the former me or any of my fellow kind still in the media biz – is now the true croupier of culture, dealing out a targeted shuffle of Pavlovian temptations to the point of daily mental exhaustion. And, though this thing is in many ways my personal nemesis, I am, against every fibre of my being, too often its obedient servant. Aiming not to live according to the famous line by T.S. Eliot – “distracted from distraction by distraction” – I recently decided to at least take a serious inventory of my favourite ones, both those of the pre-digital sort (tennis, The Walking Dead, checking the mailbox, my sock collection) and those of the post-digital sort (the any and everything I do because my phone wants me to). Then I caught myself watching tennis on my phone and realised this might be harder than I thought. It’s enough to drive a person to drink, thank god! With that in mind, I like to keep a special something for the occasion around, in this case – what else? – two bottles of Riesling Kabinett, for it had struck me as more than a little weird that I’ve probably tasted fewer than a handful of German wines in my entire life. Part of the reason is that those I had were bad, and, like a lot of other simpletons about this great wine region of the world, I’d come to think of Riesling as a cloying elixir equal parts green Jolly Rancher, apple cider vinegar, and hairspray. This, I knew, was wrong, not true and, in terms of wine equity and inclusion, on the wrong side of history. But, if you happen to live in a place like I do – a bourgie swathe of Connecticut bordering New York City where the shops cater heavily to Cali-Fran-Taly banker’s tastes – it might take you a few stops to find what Richman recommended, an erzeugerabfüllung (estate-bottled) Kabinett (wine made from grapes with a minimum must weight/sugar content) Riesling, and when you do it will probably be coated in a fine sift of years-old dust. I bought a green (Mosel) bottle for US$16 and a brown (Rhine) bottle for US$20, both handsomely labelled. I opened them a few minutes ago and took several investigative swigs. The words bright, invigorating and snappy came to mind. One is indeed sweeter, and, though not my usual jam, it is tamped by a pleasing peachy tartness, and the classic overtone of honey isn’t making my palate feel doused with syrup. The other example is, as Richman said so long ago, a very finely layered creature with mineral clarity and an echo of baked bread, something a gluten-free person like me finds particularly appealing. A rather obvious thought: why haven’t I been buying this instead of throwing a ton of endless money at affordably bad white Burgundy, which is mostly a product aimed at fulfilling a desired outcome, like White Claw hard seltzer? III. Words But don’t let me get distracted, again. A writer really has to be careful about such things. Just think about it. Unlike, say, a painter or musician or actor or photographer, the process of writing requires zero physical exertion, no chance to score an endorphin release while sitting staring anxiously at a blank page. Of the many things in life that vie against the counter intuitive impulse to be glued to a desk, Cyril Connolly, in Enemies of Promise, his classic study of the things that distracted him (and others) from becoming a great writer, names the temptations but does not say much about why they’re so deeply tempting to someone who would otherwise be sitting alone in an empty room. Praise, money, fame, social prominence, affairs and journalism are the most common boltholes, according to Connolly, who, as a famously late sleeper that married three times, might have also added the bliss of unconsciousness and excessive alimony. In 1938, the year the book was published, he would never have imagined how hard the task might get without a cigarette. Smoking is a death wish, I know, but when you want to off yourself for still having a hundred pages to go, being able to snap open a nice lighter, flick some ash, stub a butt and inhale some lungfuls of focus-enhancing nicotine must have been kind of helpful. Connolly also doesn’t have much to say about drink except that artists who drink to excess do so “out of the consciousness of wasted ability”. According to that, the 20th century’s most famous literary alcoholics – Dorothy Parker, Truman Capote, F. Scott Fitzgerald, William Styron, Elizabeth Bishop, James Joyce, Raymond Chandler, William Faulkner – might have left behind even greater treasures than they did. Because Ernest Hemingway did almost everything with more gusto than any of his peers, including running up his bar tab, as a drinker he belongs in his own sentence. He is the novelist who most romanced a good drink or nice bottle of wine as one of life’s great pleasures. Who didn’t want to have a vermouth with Jake when reading The Sun Also Rises? (Don’t, it’s gross, at least if you order it at one of those kiosks in Montmartre where the bottles are hung upside down with spring-loaded dispensers.) Or, track down a bottle of Valdepeñas, Hemingway’s favourite variety of Spanish wine. Or, get a drink at the bar named after him at the Ritz, in Paris, and then go somewhere on the Left Bank to order “a dozen portugaises and a half-carafe of the dry white wine”.  In the early work, he is not boastful about drinking so much as he is the possessor of an unusual appetite for a good buzz. He is also, like Connolly, aware of the need to keep writing separate from drinking, and drinking within his control. It is hard to read the first paragraph of A Moveable Feast, in which he describes an “evilly run café where the drunkards of the quarter crowded together and I kept away from it because of the smell of dirty bodies and the sour smell of drunkenness”, except as a kind of terrifying admonition to himself. It is tragic that he didn’t heed his own advice. Late in his life, Hemingway became fond of rum daiquiris at the Floridita, his favourite bar in Havana, which might explain his taste for a prose style that soon became too often cloying self-parody. In one of the most extraordinary drinking sessions ever committed to words, in the roman à clef Across the River and Into the Trees, a 50-year-old Hemingway, who was smitten with a teenage Italian countess from Venice, fictionalises his infatuation with a last muse. In one stretch (that covers an evening-to-dawn crawl from Harry’s Bar, the grill at the Gritti Palace, a gondola and a hotel room), one half or another of the couple imbibes: one scotch whisky and soda; six Montgomery Martinis (15 parts gin; 1 part vermouth), two of which are described in size as ‘super’; a bottle of Capri Bianco; two bottles of Valpolicella; two bottles of Roederer Brut ’42; and two bottles of Perrier-Jouët. That is, I suppose, one extreme, and, clearly, not one to be tried at home.  The other might have been espoused by Dr. Samuel Johnson, the great critic and lexicographer. As a young man, he’d drained “many a bottle of wine” but loved port especially. (Perhaps Johnson, a devout Anglican who was born in 1709, in the midst of England’s 14-year war with Spain, also first encountered port as a boy at the Communion altar.) He describes himself to friend and biographer James Boswell as having been “apt to go to excess in it”, adding that, “therefore, after having been for some time without it, on account of illness, I thought it better not to return to it”.  Boswell, who worried about his own dependence on alcohol, even keeping a journal of his intake in an attempt to enforce moderation, argued for a third way, which some of the Romantics later adopted. Wine, he claimed, “produces truth; in vino veritas”. Hoping to persuade Johnson of his point, Boswell once convinced the critic to come down off the wagon for just one glass of claret, so Johnson “might judge, not from recollection, which might be dim, but from immediate sensation”. Boswell reports what happened after the glass was emptied: “Johnson shook his head, and said, ‘Poor stuff! No, Sir, claret is the liquor for boys; port, for men,’” adding, “‘A man would be drowned by it before it made him drunk.’”  That actually reminds me of something I think I forgot to mention about Riesling Kabinetts – they’re also highly admired for their low percentage of alcohol. On that note, I think I’ll have another glass.  This article was originally published in FONDATA, Issue Two.

Jay Fielden, former editor of Men’s Vogue, Town & Country and Esquire, recalls how a magazine column on wine, read in a Texas bookstore, shifted his ambitions beyond journalism and set him on the path to becoming a writer of books.

Former Esquire editor-in-chief Jay Fielden reflects on magazines, writing, Riesling Kabinett and the distractions that shaped a life in words and wine.

Jay Fielden on Wine, Words and Distraction

How one became another  

Every now and then, the word ‘singularity’ is used to describe a particular wine that stands apart, for whatever reason, from other wines of its type. But just what is singularity, and how can wine express it? Wine writer Tamlyn Currin investigates.

What makes a wine truly singular? Tamlyn Currin explores the rare bottles that defy convention and challenge the rules of the wine world.

Searching for Singularity in wine

Searching for Singularity

About Académie du Vin Founded in Paris in 1973 by Steven Spurrier, the Académie du Vin was the first wine school in France open to the public. It has long been associated with thoughtful, independent wine scholarship and with bringing clarity, context, and critical insight to the world’s great wine regions. About this article This article presents the introduction to Côte d’Or: The wines and winemakers of the heart of Burgundy (2nd Edition) by Raymond Blake. In it, Blake sets the scene for Burgundy’s most revered stretch of vineyard, exploring the historical, cultural and human forces that shape the Côte d’Or. The introduction offers essential context on place, tradition and the vignerons themselves—laying the groundwork for a deeper understanding of Burgundy’s wines and the people behind them. Introduction The Côte d’Or, the Golden Slope, enjoys a reputation and exerts an influence in the wine world out of all proportion to its size. It possesses none of the grandeur of the Douro Valley, for instance, nor the picture-postcard beauty of South Africa’s winelands. It is not majestic; its beauty is serene, and what strikes the observer time and again is the tiny scale. From north to south it is about 50 kilometres long, is sometimes less than a kilometre wide, and can be driven in little more than an hour. At a push it could be walked in a day. Yet for a thousand or more years this favoured slope has yielded wines that have entranced and delighted wine lovers, with a fair measure of frustration and disappointment thrown in too. Avoiding hyperbole when writing about the Côte d’Or is a problem, for it has held people in thrall for centuries, frequently prompting poetic flights of prose: ‘The Pathetic Fallacy resounds in all our praise of wine … This Burgundy seemed to me, then, serene and triumphant … it whispered faintly, but in the same lapidary phrase, the same words of hope.’ Thus wrote Evelyn Waugh in Brideshead Revisited eighty years ago. Literary critics might cavil at such prolixity, and Waugh himself tamed it severely in later editions, but it was enough to intrigue me decades ago and engender a love for the region and its wines that has never waned. Greater Burgundy is a bigger, more geographically diverse, region than might first be supposed, stretching from Chablis, south-east of Paris, to Beaujolais, north of Lyon. The subject matter of this book, however, is Burgundy’s heart, the Côte d’Or. There is no more celebrated stretch of agricultural land on earth. It has been pored over and analysed, feted and cosseted, obsessed about and sought after for centuries and today, if anything, it exerts a greater pull on wine lovers than ever before. ‘Astronomical’ does not begin to describe the prices now being paid for prized patches of grand and premier cru vineyard, and for the wines produced from them by the top domaines. Such prices hog the headlines and paint a dazzling, though severely one-dimensional, picture of the Côte d’Or today. In the early years of the twenty-first century they are part of the story but they are not the only part. This book aims to get behind the dazzle and flesh out the story, to add some nuance and extra dimension. The Côte d’Or cannot be captured in a sound bite nor, it must be admitted, in a book of this scope – but my hope is that it may add another chapter to the ever-unfolding tale, setting it in the early years of the twenty-first century, a period that may come to be considered by future historians as a golden age for Burgundy but which has brought its own challenges in the shape of those ludicrous prices, the scandal of premature oxidation in the white wines, and the increasing challenge of dealing with extreme weather events such as hail and spring frost. The Côte d’Or has been the subject of forensic scrutiny for centuries, generating a library of books, so why another one now? For the simple reason that it is ever changing. Every year sees new names added to the producers’ roster and old ones slipping away, and thanks to this ongoing evolution the infant domaine of today can be the superstar of tomorrow. The core of the book comprises about a hundred producer profiles. Many fine domaines and négociants whose wines I am happy to purchase and drink have not found a place here. It is important to stress that they have not been included, rather than excluded, simply for reasons of space. The aim was to feature a representative collection of producers, not a top-down selection of the most celebrated names in descending order of renown. As a consequence this book is not, nor was it ever intended to be, a comprehensive A to Z of producers. I write as an amateur du vin, an enthusiast whose admiration for the wines of Burgundy stretches back over four decades, and who has been visiting the region and writing about the wines for some thirty years. I do not trade in wine. I try to see beyond the wine to get something of the backstory, the story of people and place that makes the Côte d’Or so fascinating. To examine the wines in isolation is to dislocate them from that, and not knowing something of the backstory precludes a full understanding of them. A broad lens must be brought to bear on the côte. Too narrow, and the wood will never be seen for the trees. I have learned much by coming across things serendipitously rather than dashing hither and thither, seeing a lot but noticing little. Without time for assimilation and reflection, subtlety and shade are missed. Finally, no gustatory experience can match the thrill of a great Côte d’Or red drunk at its peak. The colour, crimsoned by age; the heavenly scent, perfumed with notes of sweet decay; a sauvage edge, the palate lively and tingling, managing to be so many things at once, oscillating between fruit and spice and meat and game, a merry-go-round of flavour, spiralling on the palate, refusing to be pinned down by anything so prosaic as a tasting note. All the primary components melded by age and yielding up new ones, unsignalled when the wine was young. Everything cohesive and in harmony, like a great orchestra playing at its best. Above all, vital and living, endlessly enchanting and intriguing, engaging the palate and the spirit like no other wine. Learn more about Raymond Blake's Côte d'Or (2nd edition) Shop all books from the Académie du Vin Library Visit the Académie du Vin website

Explore Burgundy with the introduction from Raymond Blake's book: Côte d'Or: The wines and winemakers of the heart of Burgundy. Blake tells the whole story of this hugely influential region, painting a complete picture of life there: the history, landscape, climate, culture and people.

Discover Raymond Blake's Côte d'Or (2nd Edition): a deep dive into Burgundy's wines, winemakers, history, culture and the people behind this iconic region.

Raymond Blake on the Côte d'Or

Sitting opposite us, the dark-suited, dark-haired figure waved an elegant hand at the bottle of white Burgundy which he’d just fished out of a carrier bag and planted on the table with the air of a conjuror at a party. “You’ll like this,” he said; it was a statement, not a suggestion, delivered in a faint accent with American overtones and a hint of gutturality. In this totally unremarkable West London pub, a bottle of Meursault looked as out of place as a KGB officer. Which he was. We did like it, of course, who wouldn’t? It made the greasy steak and chips almost bearable, and was one of the best wines I’d ever tasted at that point in my life. I was 33 that year, 1978, and as a newish BBC foreign correspondent I wasn’t particularly well paid. He’d brought the Meursault with him to show us how sophisticated he was, and to counter the blandness of the food. But why had he suggested The Mitre as a place for lunch? It was handy for the Soviet embassy up the road, certainly; but I realised that the real attraction for him was the high-backed seats that enclosed our table and kept our conversation private. Sergei was a major in the KGB, masquerading as a press attaché. The habit of secrecy was deeply ingrained in him. The Meursault started to work on my companion, a gossipy, amusing, slightly naïve BBC executive. It worked on me, too, but under the influence of alcohol I tend to go quiet and introverted. Not so Harry. He delivered the brief lecture about Soviet harassment of our Moscow correspondent which he’d been planning. It wasn’t bad, but it didn’t make Sergei burst into tears. On the contrary. “Ah, yes, the famous Declan.” Sergei managed to put the accent on the second syllable. “Such good Russian. A pity he wastes his time hanging around those drop-outs and wastrels.” I was particularly impressed by ‘wastrels’. “I suppose you mean dissidents,” I said, pushing my glass across for more Meursault. The label read ‘1968’; the Soviet embassy must have had a superb cellar. Sergei laughed scornfully and poured. “I hear Declan’s marriage isn’t going so good now,” he said. “Ah, no, his wife left him for an airline pilot,” Harry replied, giggling. I kicked him sharply: you didn’t feed personal details about your colleagues to KGB officers. “What?” Harry said, looking at me. We saw the bottle out. Sometimes I think I can still taste that rich, green-gold collection of butter, almond, citrus and, could it have been, or is it just my imagination after more than 40 years, hints of bracken and mayflower. At the end, we stood up and shook hands. “So you’ll go easy on Declan from now on?” Harry said. “Well, Declan must stop creating bad propaganda against the Soviet Union.” He had a good ear: this time the accent was on the first syllable. Sergei turned in the direction of the embassy, and we headed back to Television Centre. “Bloody good wine those Russkies can afford,” Harry said, and gave his high-pitched laugh.For journalists and spies, booze is a famous lubricant, a fuel, even. I came from a teetotal background, yet when I started as a foreign correspondent I soon found myself ordering a glass of single malt as a means of self-protection, while someone I was trying to pump for information opened up and talked in a way he or she never would if I’d ordered a Britvic orange. Yet there were exceptions. In Belfast and Derry, where I started my reporting career, the leaders of the Provisional IRA were mostly ultra-Catholic and never drank a drop; and as I branched out and began reporting on the Middle East, I found that organisations like Hezbollah and the followers of the Ayatollah were as teetotal as I had once been. There were no bars to meet them in, either. Fortunately, though, cities like Cairo and Beirut were more sophisticated. I soon found that anywhere with a sizeable Christian population, Egypt and Lebanon, of course, but also Syria, Iraq and westernised countries like Turkey and Pakistan, made allowances for thirsty westerners and permitted them to drink, even if in cities like Peshawar you had to sign a big leather volume and register yourself as an alcoholic. The bar in the old Commodore Hotel in Beirut was a wonderful centre for professional alcoholics of this kind. I first went there in June 1982, when West Beirut was under hourly attack from Israeli planes and tanks, and there were no shelters to protect us. The presiding spirit of the place was a correspondent called Chris Drake, a hospitable soul who dispensed booze and information even-handedly. When the barrage was going on, it would have been suicidal to leave the Commodore, and the building shuddered to every nearby explosion. Chris Drake had a parrot, and when the bar was packed in the evening with journalists glad to still be alive, it would imitate the sound of a shell in flight with startling accuracy. Most of the people there, not me, thank God, had walked into the bar on their first night, heard the parrot’s hugely convincing whistle, and thrown themselves on the floor shouting “Incoming!”. There would be a roar of laughter, and someone would help them up and offer them a glass of arak, an infusion of grapes and the seeds of the anise plant. I acquired a real taste for arak at that time, and I still think of that slightly oily, metallic, liquorice-tasting liquid hitting the back of my throat and burning its way down. A few years later, during another upsurge of fighting, the Commodore was heavily shelled by the Syrian army. The building was destroyed, and no trace of the parrot was ever found. When peace was restored and there was money around, the Commodore was rebuilt, much bigger and more glitzy, but the architect designed a new bar precisely where the old one had once been. You can still see the space on the floor where many a famous journalist measured his length when the parrot did its party trick. I took my wife and 13-year-old son there a couple of years ago, and one afternoon, when the bar was empty, my son insisted on re-enacting the whole thing. In China, things were different. Meetings with underground figures usually took place at their homes or outdoors, given the fear of surveillance. I often chose Ritan Park in Beijing, where teahouses served pu-erh tea and offered a discreet place to talk. By contrast, official meetings required alcohol, specifically Maotai, a fierce baijiu distilled from sorghum at over 50% ABV. At one banquet, after being insulted by a local Party official, I tried to outdrink him. The plan failed, he had help, but we still ended the night collapsed together, singing in two languages. The next day, I was told this had enhanced British prestige. Countries where alcohol is banned present different challenges. In Taliban-controlled Afghanistan, I smuggled in a 27-year-old bottle of Laphroaig disguised as Fanta, only to pour it down the toilet when soldiers began searching rooms for alcohol. They never entered mine. After the fall of the Soviet Union, I tried to track Sergei down but never found him. Before that, though, I had taken my revenge by signing him up to every unwanted mailing list I could find, encyclopaedias, dubious magazines, and more inventive subscriptions besides. It made me feel very good.And yet, if I imagine meeting him again, I always picture the same thing: Sergei standing in the doorway, holding a superb bottle of Meursault. For that, at least, I’ve always been grateful. This article was written by John Simpson, who reflects on his experiences reporting across the world, and the role alcohol has played in the art of face-to-face reconnaissance. Illustrations by Natsko Seki. Originally published in FONDATA, Issue Two.

BBC world affairs editor John Simpson reflects on reporting from conflict zones, recalling memorable bars, encounters and the role alcohol plays in the subtle art of face-to-face reconnaissance.

BBC world affairs editor John Simpson on bars, encounters and how alcohol shapes reporting, trust and intelligence gathering worldwide.

John Simpson on bars, spies and the art of reporting

Refuge,  refreshment & reconnaissance

After the difficult conditions of 2024, Bordeaux has delivered a vintage that has surprised almost everyone. The 2025 growing season was among the hottest and driest of recent decades, with yields collapsing across much of the region. Yet rather than producing another 2022-style vintage of power and opulence, the wines have emerged with freshness, moderate alcohols and remarkable aromatic precision. Almost every major critic references the same paradox: a year that looked destined to produce massive wines instead yielded bottles of energy, balance and finesse. There is less agreement on where 2025 ultimately sits among Bordeaux's recent great vintages. Some critics compare it to 2016, others to 2019, 2020 or even 1961. What they largely agree on, however, is that the best wines are outstanding – and that this is a vintage where terroir, vineyard management and winemaking decisions matter enormously. William Kelley – Wine Advocate William Kelley sees 2025 as a vintage that reveals rather than conceals. He describes it as a "clarifier" rather than an amplifier, arguing that the wines expose differences in terroir, viticulture and winemaking with unusual transparency. Although the growing season was dominated by heat and drought, Kelley believes the resulting wines are fundamentally different from 2022. Cooler nights, lower alcohols and timely late-season rain produced wines that combine concentration, ripeness and freshness in a way that feels distinctive. He repeatedly returns to the notion that the best 2025s are classically proportioned despite their intensity. Unlike some critics, Kelley is reluctant to identify a single winning appellation. Instead, he sees success as highly estate-specific, with the finest wines distinguished by balance, precision and restraint rather than sheer power. Kelley's highlights: Larcis Ducasse, Jean Faure, Sociando-Mallet, Quinault l'Enclos, Le Pin Beausoleil Explore Kelley's full report, notes and scores on Wine Advocate (subscribers only). Jane Anson – Inside Bordeaux For Jane Anson, 2025 is "the paradox vintage". The best wines are immensely impressive, but she cautions strongly against broad-brush conclusions. Anson places the vintage comfortably ahead of 2017, 2021 and 2024, and broadly alongside 2015 and 2019 in terms of potential. Yet she repeatedly notes that this is not a year where collectors can buy indiscriminately. Low pH levels, high acidity and significant tannic structure mean some wines will require patience, while others may never fully resolve. She sees the strongest performances coming from Bordeaux's great water-regulating terroirs, particularly the limestone and clay soils of Saint-Émilion and the best parts of the Left Bank. Pomerol is more variable, with dramatic differences depending on soil type and water retention. Anson's wine of the vintage is Beauséjour Duffau-Lagarrosse, while Canon, Petrus, Cheval Blanc and Château Margaux all feature prominently among her highest-rated wines. Anson's highlights: Ch. Haut Bailly, Mouton Rothschild, Margaux, Smith Haut Lafitte, Leoville Las Cases, Petrus, Beauséjour, Vieux Château Certan, Lafleur,  Tertre Roteboeuf, Haut-Brion Blanc, Les Champs Libres, Doisy-Daëne,  Aile d'Argent Blanc, Pavillon Blanc Read Jane Anson’s report on the Left Bank, Right Bank and white wine on Inside Bordeaux (subscribers only). Antonio Galloni – Vinous Antonio Galloni is one of the most enthusiastic commentators on the vintage, describing the finest wines as "nothing short of thrilling". What impresses him most is the combination of concentration and freshness. The summer heat delivered tiny berries and naturally low yields, yet many wines finished with surprisingly moderate alcohol levels and striking aromatic lift. Galloni believes modern viticulture played a critical role, allowing producers to navigate extreme conditions more successfully than would have been possible a generation ago. He identifies Margaux as the appellation of the vintage and describes Pauillac as "jam-packed with great wines". Saint-Émilion's clay-limestone plateau also impressed him enormously. Pomerol, meanwhile, is the region he found most inconsistent. Galloni also highlights several lesser-known estates that he believes overperformed in 2025, noting that some of the vintage's most exciting discoveries may come outside Bordeaux's traditional elite. Galloni's highlights: Beau-Séjour Bécot, Canon, La Gaffelière, Troplong Mondot, La Mission Haut-Brion, L'If, Margaux, Lafite Rothschild Explore Antonio Galloni's full report, notes and scores on Vinous (subscribers only). Neal Martin – Vinous Neal Martin describes 2025 as a vintage that constantly defies expectations. He argues that the late-August rain fundamentally changed the trajectory of the year, turning what appeared destined to become another 2022 into something altogether more nuanced. Martin calls it "a dialled-down and more precise 2010", a comparison that appears repeatedly throughout his report. He finds concentration and structure, but also freshness, restraint and remarkable aromatic detail. Like Galloni, he is highly enthusiastic about the Left Bank, particularly Pauillac, Saint-Julien and Saint-Estèphe. He also believes several of the greatest successes come from Saint-Émilion's limestone soils, while Pomerol shows more variation than many neighbouring appellations. Perhaps most notably, Martin sees 2025 as one of the strongest recent vintages for Sauternes, praising the purity and freshness of the best sweet wines. Martin's highlights: Montrose, Haut-Brion, Lafite Rothschild, Lafleur, Petrus, Latour Explore Neal Martin's full report, notes and scores on Vinous (subscribers only). James Suckling James Suckling describes 2025 as one of the most exciting Bordeaux vintages he has encountered in more than forty years of tasting barrel samples. He repeatedly returns to the contrast between expectation and reality. On paper, the growing season suggested another powerful, solar vintage. Instead, he found wines with what he calls "unique purity and tension", combining moderate alcohol, vibrant acidity and impressive concentration. For Suckling, 2025 is above all "a great vintage for great terroir". He argues that the region's finest vineyards adapted brilliantly to the challenges of the year, producing wines that are both intensely expressive and remarkably balanced. Although he acknowledges inconsistency across the region, he believes the best wines can stand alongside Bordeaux's leading modern vintages. Suckling's highlights: Château Margaux, Mouton Rothschild, Lafite Rothschild, Petrus, Le Pin, Ausone, Angélus, Les Carmes Haut-Brion Read part one and two of James Suckling’s report, along with his full notes and scores on JamesSuckling.com (subscribers only). Georgie Hindle – Decanter Georgie Hindle describes 2025 as both "paradoxical" and "miraculous", two words that neatly capture the mood of many critics tasting the vintage. She notes that almost everything about the growing season pointed towards a rich, powerful vintage. Yet the wines themselves display freshness, poise and balance rather than opulence. The crucial turning point, in her view, was the late-August rain that arrived after months of drought and completely reshaped the vintage's trajectory. Hindle argues that terroir and winemaking decisions were decisive. Producers who adapted extraction techniques and handled the naturally high tannin levels carefully were rewarded with wines of precision and elegance. Others were less successful. While she believes the best wines are exceptional, she is clear that 2025 lacks the broad consistency of 2022 and should be approached selectively. Hindle's highlights: Beauséjour, Cheval Blanc, Haut-Bailly, Haut-Brion, Margaux, Mouton Rothschild, Petrus, Vieux Château Certan Explore Georgie Hindle's coverage on Decanter (subscribers only). Jeb Dunnuck Jeb Dunnuck compares 2025 to a modern-day version of 1961, citing tiny yields, drought conditions and extraordinary concentration. Yet unlike the blockbuster vintages often associated with hot years, Dunnuck finds the wines surprisingly fresh and elegant. He repeatedly highlights the role of cooler nights and late-season rainfall in preserving balance and preventing overripeness. He sees Saint-Émilion as one of the stars of the vintage, while also praising the best wines of Pauillac, Saint-Julien and Pomerol. Like several critics, he believes value-conscious collectors should look closely at Castillon and Fronsac, where some producers delivered outstanding quality relative to price. Dunnuck's highlights: Margaux, Haut-Brion, Léoville Las Cases, Montrose, Le Pin, Ducru-Beaucaillou, Mouton Rothschild, Petrus, Figeac, Beauséjour Explore Jeb Dunnuck's full report, notes and scores on JebDunnuck.com (subscribers only). James Lawther MW – Jancis Robinson James Lawther sees 2025 as one of Bordeaux's most pleasant surprises. He notes that despite being one of the hottest vintages of the last thirty years, the wines possess freshness, moderate alcohol levels and considerable charm. The defining feature for Lawther is the combination of power and approachability — wines that have both concentration and an almost unexpected amiability. Cabernet Sauvignon particularly impressed him, especially in Pauillac and Saint-Estèphe, while Saint-Émilion's limestone-rich soils again proved highly resilient in drought conditions. Pomerol was less straightforward, producing some brilliant wines alongside more uneven results. Lawther is also highly positive about Sauternes, which he considers one of the vintage's major success stories. Lawther's highlights: Palmer, Pavie, Suduiraut, Mouton Rothschild, Cheval Blanc Explore James Lawther MW's full reports, notes and scores on JancisRobinson.com (subscribers only). Read James Lawther MW’s report on the Left Bank, Right Bank and white wine on Inside Bordeaux (subscribers only). Explore Bordeaux 2025

As the Bordeaux 2025 campaign draws to a close, we review the critics' verdicts on one of the decade's most intriguing vintages and the wines that emerged as their standout performers.

Your essential crib-sheet to what the world’s leading wine critics are saying about Bordeaux 2025 en primeur–including Wine Advocate, Vinous and more

Bordeaux 2025 en primeur – what the critics are saying 

Bordeaux 2025: what the critics are saying

Xiao-Li Meng, Whipple V. N. Jones Professor of Statistics at Harvard and Founding Editor-in-Chief of Harvard Data Science Review, was inspired by a student to combine wine and statistics—leading to insights far beyond what they ever expected.

From wine tastings to data science, Xiao-Li Meng explores how statistics reveals simplicity in complexity – one glass, experiment, and insight at a time.

Wine, statistics & serendipity: A Harvard journey

Seeking simplicity in statistics, complexity in wine, and everything else in fortune cookies 

It’s not every day that you get to taste wines made over half a century ago – but earlier this month I got to trace CVNE’s flagship Imperial Gran Reserva all the way back to the 1947 vintage. Victor Urrutia, the fifth generation of his family to take the helm of this legendary Rioja producer, put together a tasting of what he called “the dirty dozen” – lining up 12 vintages of Imperial. The wines were chosen to show how the wine speaks across a range of vintages – not just the most famous, but the hot, the cold, the mighty and the mediocre.  CVNE has been making wine in Rioja Alta since 1879, so – even going back to 1947 – this tasting offered just a snapshot of its history. Imperial was created in the early 20th century (1917 is the earliest vintage Urrutia himself has tasted), conceived as “super Rioja”, Urrutia explained. The idea was to make the best wine possible, regardless of its commercial potential, at a time when Rioja didn’t have the prestige of today. Around 50,000 bottles are produced, but – importantly – Imperial isn’t made in every vintage, with the quality of the fruit in some years not meeting CVNE’s stringent standards (there was no 2003, 2006 or 2013, for example, and there won’t be a 2023 either).  For Urrutia, the goal with Imperial now is to reflect each vintage, and fine-tune the wine rather than look for revolution. The early vintages are their benchmark and inspiration. Across the vintages, however, Urrutia points to a “churchy” nose – something he finds is distinctly Imperial and reminiscent of the winery.  It’s easy, perhaps, to forget how well Rioja ages – and not just over a decade or two, but over half a century. The oldest vintage in this tasting, the 1947, was undoubtedly the star – a wine that has retained its freshness, with delicate aromatics and a beautifully long, pure, resolved palate. The entire flight impressed – with the quality of Imperial shining through. Some of Rioja’s legendary vintages featured (the 1970 and 1959, which sit alongside the likes of 1982 and 1964 in the history books), but my personal favourites were the aforementioned 1947, the still compact 2004 (named Wine Spectator’s Wine of the Year in 2013), the brooding 2011 and pretty, elegant 2018.   The Imperial vineyards  The fruit for Imperial Gran Reserva comes from CVNE’s best vineyards, all over 40 years in age and almost all bush vines, yielding around 4,000kg/ha (equivalent to circa 25hl/ha or less than 1.5 tons/acre). The parcels all sit close to the Cantabrian mountains, at around 500-600 metres’ altitude, and on poor but cool soils (clay and limestone) – lending the wines great freshness, even in hot and dry years, explains longtime Technical Director María Larrea.  The village of Villalba de Rioja has been the backbone of the wine since its conception. This village was where the Real de Asúa brothers (who founded CVNE) first bought vineyards, four kilometres from Haro. The vineyards are steep and south-facing, exposed to the winds and some of the vines therefore have to be trellised (cordón Royat), but it brings acidity and freshness to the wine – something that is essential for its ageing potential. Parcels in the villages of Briones and Torremontalbo were added later, in the 1960s. Briones has richer soils, gentle slopes and a warmer climate, giving structure and body to the wine, while Torremontalbo has steep, stony slopes with calcareous soils and a significant diurnal shift, adding minerality and finesse to the blend.  The Imperial blend  The blend has shifted over the years, with the wine originally around 40% Garnacha and 40% Tempranillo, with the remaining 20% Graciano and Mazuelo. The old vineyards were field blends, with the varieties interplanted and harvested together, meaning mixed ripeness levels – something that arguably brought balance and complexity to the wines, even if some of the fruit wouldn’t have been ripe. Nowadays, each variety is planted separately at CVNE – allowing them more control and precision, harvesting each grape at the perfect moment and crafting a blend in the winery.  There was a move away from Garnacha in the 1970s, with more and more Tempranillo planted instead. Garnacha was less appreciated, seen as a workhorse, an impression that was only reenforced when lesser, high-yielding clones were planted in the 1980s and 1990s. As Larrea also noted, Garnacha is much more prone to coulure and millerandage (poor flowering and fruit-set), which may have been another factor in its decline. There was also a time, Urrutia explained, when Bordeaux was the reference point for fine wine, and they looked to imitate the region, favouring Tempranillo for its darker colour versus the more thin-skinned and therefore pale Grenache. Today, the blend is dominated by Tempranillo (with the 2017 and 2018 Imperial both 85% Tempranillo), but Grenache is undergoing a revival across Rioja and – provided they can have the right clonal material and/or older vineyards – it may contribute more to the blend in time.  The proportion of Graciano and Mazuelo has been reduced slightly, but Larrea emphasises how important the two grapes are in the face of climate change. Mazuelo (aka Carignan/Cariñena) provides structure and colour, while Graciano contributes acidity and aromatic complexity.  The winemaking  Although she joined CVNE in 1991, María Larrea took over the winemaking for Imperial with the 2005 vintage, following on from Basilio Izquierdo, who had been running things for over 30 years (since 1973). Before Izquierdo came Ezequiel García, known as “El Brujo” (“The Wizard”), winemaker for CVNE for over three decades (he returned briefly in 2014 to recreate their legendary white, Monopole).  Across the three winemakers and almost 70 years, surprisingly little has changed. The winemaking here remains extremely traditional, although technology has allowed the team to monitor the wines more closely, and for better winery hygiene, as in most regions. Fermentation remains indigenous, although it’s no longer spontaneous – the wines have been inoculated with a selected strain of their indigenous yeast since the early 2010s (with some experiments in the 1990s). Traditionally fermentation was in concrete tank, however this moved to oak in the 1990s, with one lone vintage (1994) fermented in stainless steel when the vats hadn’t arrived in time.  The wines used to be stored in barrel and only bottled when they were sold, so some older vintages of Imperial spent over a decade in barrel, while today the wine normally stays in barrel for between two and three years. (The bottling dates for each of the vintages is included below – the 1947 wasn’t bottled until 1960!) Originally the oak was all American, simply because that is what they had access to via their historic trade routes, and the barrels were kept for decades (Larrea remembers using 40-year-old barrels when she arrived in the 1990s). CVNE gradually started introducing French oak in the 1980s, with around 30% French oak used in the 1990s and around 60-70% today, with the remainder American.   The wines: tasting eight decades of CVNE Imperial  A note on the bottles themselves: older vintages are in green glass, however they moved to brown glass around 10-15 years ago.  2018 Imperial Gran Reserva: This was a real highlight of the vertical. It is very youthful still, fruit-forward, yet with amazing finesse and delicacy. The nose is precise with dainty aromatics of spice, graphite and florals alongside the crystalline fruit. The palate is juicy and lithe, pure, silken and fresh with savoury tobacco and dried red berries filling the mouth-watering finish. Beautiful and very open, even now. Fermented in oak, 14% alcohol and bottled July 2021.  2017 Imperial Gran Reserva: Frosts swept across much of Europe in late April in 2017, although the rest of the season was relatively warm, producing a tiny crop of concentrated fruit. It’s a drastically different wine to the 2018, yet still with great freshness and a floral lift alongside ripe, sweet red fruit. The palate is tight, much less approachable than the 2018, with compact tannins, a bite of crunchy acidity and a grip of firm tannins, while smoky tones that fill the finish. Decant to enjoy now, but this will be even better with a couple more years in bottle. Fermented in oak, 14% alcohol and bottled July 2020.  2015 Imperial Gran Reserva: The 2015 Imperial is dark and intense, layered with rich bramble fruit, cedar, tobacco, spice and something meaty – a hint of biltong, perhaps. The palate echoes the concentration of the nose, with chewy tannins and a line of acidity that cuts through its intensity. Powerful, almost stern, with more dried fruit coming out with air, the finish is long and savoury, with a touch of red miso. Fermented in oak, 14.5% alcohol and bottled June 2018.  2011 Imperial Gran Reserva: Another standout in the vertical, the 2011 Imperial offers a dark and pure nose, still surprisingly primary with black cherry and cassis fruit, lifted by sweet spicy perfume. The palate is silken and pure, still so youthful, flowing across the tongue, framed by firm but integrated tannins. It’s concentrated and long, with floral aromatics dancing on the juicy finish. Hard to resist with great balance. Fermented in oak, 13.5% alcohol and bottled July 2014.  2009 Imperial Gran Reserva: This is a very serious Imperial now at a lovely stage of maturity – with savoury undergrowth and spicy notes sitting alongside the vibrant dark berry fruit. The palate is intense yet with a softness to it, despite the chewy framework of tannins. It’s juicy and expressive, with smoky, spicy, tobacco notes playing on the finish, and just the slightest hint of leather starting to appear. Fermented in oak, 13.8% alcohol and bottled January 2013.  2004 Imperial Gran Reserva: From “a textbook vintage” in CVNE CEO Victor Urrutia’s words, the 2004 is shining. Pencil shavings and bacon complement ripe, dark fruit. The palate is tight and compact, yet with a juiciness that elongates the whole thing, with acidity that drives through to the long finish. The tannins are supple and soft, integrated with the fruit, but still offer a grip on the finish. Bright and effortlessly balanced. Fermented in oak, 13.8% alcohol and bottled October 2008.  1994 Imperial Gran Reserva: This is an intriguing vintage of Imperial, the only one ever to have been fermented in stainless steel as they were switching from cement to wood, but the new vats didn’t arrive in time for the vintage. It was also served at the wedding of Spain’s Crown Prince, who later became King Felipe VI. After the 2004, this marks a shift towards wines dominated by tertiary notes, although there’s still plenty of fruit here. The nose is spicy with mushroom and undergrowth alongside incense and leathery tones. The palate is laden with umami – with fresh leather and dried berry fruit – as well as dried strawberries, supple tannins and refreshing acidity. Fermented in stainless steel, 13.16% alcohol and bottled June 1998.  1980 Imperial Gran Reserva: As CEO Victor Urrutia said, 1980 was “a shit vintage” – and has always been in the shadow of 1981 and 1982. Tasting the wine today, that’s probably fair – however it’s still an impressive wine. The nose has a distinctly herbal, menthol edge to the sweet fruit – macerated strawberries, with a balsamic hint. The tannins still offer bite, while the fruit shifts to darker, more bramble tones towards the finish. Fermented in concrete, 13.4% alcohol and bottled May 1985.  1970 Imperial Gran Reserva: The 1970 vintage was hot and produced powerful wines – earning it a reputation as one of Rioja’s finest vintages. After over 50 years, the wine is intensely savoury – combining soy, marmite and barnyard tones with intense, dark fruit. With air, the wine offers layers of spice (almost reminiscent of paprika), bacon frazzles and smoked almonds, complementing the concentrated core of fruit. It’s intense yet balanced, with bright acidity that keeps everything fresh and fills the long finish. Fermented in concrete, 12.97% alcohol and bottled March 1975.  1968 Imperial Gran Reserva: From a more difficult vintage, the 1968 Imperial has a charming nose that seamlessly combines savoury and sweet – with earthy richness that sits alongside incense-inflected berry fruit and a pleasing herbal note. The palate is elegant and vibrant, with plenty of fruit still driving through its core, while more savoury, smoky notes dominate the finish. Fermented in concrete, 12.7% alcohol and bottled April 1974.  1959 Imperial Gran Reserva: The 1959 vintage is another of Rioja’s most lauded, although I suspect this bottle was not showing its best. There’s a plushness and intensity to the palate, with a sharp drive of acidity, while the nose is dominated by leather, black liquorice and barnyard. Fermented in concrete, 13% alcohol and bottled February 1968.  1947 Imperial Gran Reserva: An amazing wine to tasted, the 1947 CVNE Imperial has a reputation – one that this bottle more than lived up to. Coffee and tobacco notes with bright fruit – ripe red cherry and raspberry, as well as florals, incense, black tea and sage, alongside smoky perfume. It’s long and fresh on the palate, seamless and fully resolved but pure and persistent, with a Bovril edge to the finish which is vibrant and long. Gorgeous now – drink it while you have the chance. Fermented in concrete, 12.4% alcohol and bottled August 1960.  Explore all CVNE listings, including a range of back-vintages of Imperial Gran Reserva, or read more Editorial 

Earlier this month, CVNE hosted a once-in-a-lifetime tasting of their Imperial Gran Reserva. Sophie Thorpe explores what makes the wine so special and how it has evolved over eight decades 

Exploring CVNE’s flagship Gran Reserva Rioja, Imperial, back to 1947 at a once-in-a-lifetime tasting with CEO Victor Urrutia 

Tasting CVNE’s Imperial Gran Reserva Rioja 2018-1947 

An icon through the ages: CVNE’s Imperial Gran Reserva 

Many believe Scotch blends are single malt whisky’s poor relation in price, quality and taste profile. In actuality, this could not be further from the truth. It takes great mastery to produce a blend. Some of the most exquisite single malts – that people pay handsomely for – are blended in perfect harmony by some of the most talented whisky makers in the world to create remarkable blended whiskies. And yet, this lesser label seemingly sticks to blended whisky – as it has for decades. The tide does, however, show signs of turning as more collectable and well-aged blended whiskies are appearing on the market. Few people know more about blended Scotch than Colin Scott and Dr Emma Walker. Scott held the title of Chivas Brothers Master Blender for 31 years and today, after a very short-lived retirement, produces superlative blends for remarkable spirits curators The Last Drop Distillers. Walker has also not long stepped into a new role, succeeding Dr Jim Beveridge as Johnnie Walker Master Blender. Dr Walker (no relation to Johnnie) and her trusty team of 12 highly skilled blenders preside over more than 10 million casks of whisky from 30 distilleries across the length and breath of Scotland to create all the Scotch in Diageo’s extensive portfolio. “Because it’s a blending operation, we just call it all blends,” Walker says – adding, with a chuckle, “just to confuse people.” The same team that looks after Diageo’s single malts looks after all its Scotch whisky, including the blends, new releases and highly collectable Cask of Distinction releases. At last count, there are 138 whisky distilleries in Scotland. Of these, 131 are malt distilleries and seven are grain, and Diageo by far and away owns the most at 30. It is Walker’s job to know these distilleries (28 malt and two grain) inside and out to produce all of Diageo’s Scotch whisky bottlings. “Our single malts are amazing. Our single grains are amazing. But so are the blended Scotch whiskies,” she says with unabashed excitement. Walker is three months into her new role at the helm of one of the world’s most formidable blending operations – and is clearly loving every minute, despite being “slightly terrified”. A chemist by trade, she is acutely aware of Johnnie Walker’s legacy as the world’s most foremost whisky blender and she carries this responsibility, that might weigh heavy on others, with a healthy dose of reverence and buckets of zeal. The ebullient Colin Scott has worked in the Scotch whisky industry for almost 50 years, blending some of the world’s most well-known and coveted whiskies for Chivas Brothers. There’s little he hasn’t seen and you sense he’s just as excited by the goings on today as he was as a young whippersnapper in the blending room half a century ago. “It’s interesting that everybody talks about [single] malts rather than blends,” Scott muses. “For the last 100 years, blends have actually dominated global sales – over 90% is blended Scotch and less than 10% is [single] malts.” Scott thinks the reason for this is simple: “People can understand a single malt because it comes from a single distillery. You can go to it, you can see it, you can touch it, and you can feel it. It’s a little bit more sexy than a blend because a blend has anything between three and a 100-plus whiskies in it.” But, what many fail to realise, according to Scott, is the skill required to create these blended whiskies – at all price points. “There is an art to blending. It’s quite a complicated art,” he says wistfully. And an ever-changing one at that. “A lot of people don’t understand that if you take a premium blend, it might have 50 whiskies in the blend one year, the next year it might have 60, the following year it might have 45, the next year might have 48 – so year on year, because of availability within the inventory, the actual number of whiskies in the blend will change. “And it is the art of the blender who brings and rebalances all of those flavours back so the taste experience remains consistent.” Walker picks up the point: “You take these individual great characters and you just bring them together. You’re not doing something that cheapens it. You’re not doing something where you’re trying to bulk things out, you’re trying to bring those different, individual characters together in the best way possible. You’re amplifying rather than cancelling each other out.” Walker is always trying to reach the golden ratio for the desired mouthfeel, texture, aroma, taste and length. When she achieves this, Walker says: “It’s just really exciting. To find these amazing individual things and bring them together, it’s heaven in a glass.” It takes years of experience and skill – passed down from one generation to the next – to achieve this divine state or you’d have to face the wrath of the loyal drinker who knows what should be in that bottle. “You’re always looking for that consistent quality,” Scott explains spiritedly. “Whether it’s standard, premium, super premium or ultra ultra premium. “Working at Chivas, you would use pretty much the same amount of time on a standard blend as a niche blend,” Scott says with great candour, “because you just don’t compromise on quality – it is not part of the game.” Scott has blended at all the levels during his career. His decision to join the Last Drop in 2021 was somewhat serendipitous. Scott and the late Last Drop co-founder Tom Jago were responsible for one of the most successful blends of all time: Chivas 18. The remarkable spirits curators have championed blended whisky since day dot. Founders Jago and long-time friend James Espey OBE initially set out to bottle single malts – because the demand was there at the higher end – but that all changed when the formidable duo were bewitched by a certain 1960 blended Scotch. This became the Last Drop’s inaugural release in 2008 and is said to have been the best whisky Jago ever tasted during his lifetime. Scott is the first to acknowledge that blended whiskies carrying an age statement are an easier sell than those without – his debut for the Last Drop was a very special 50-year-old signature blend. “If you’ve got an age on a product, people know exactly what they are dealing with,” he says matter-of-factly. While the Master Blender does feel there is a groundswell of appreciation for blended whiskies, helped by older bottlings and ever-increasing auction prices, he understands there is work to be done to remove this legacy inferiority association. “People have been drinking blends forever,” Scott explains. “But because it is usually the standard blend, they don’t really consider it special.” He continues: “Many think blends are inferior and the main reason for that was way back in the day, 30, 40, 50 years ago, people regarded grain whisky as an industrial spirit because a grain distillery, even today, makes 10 times the spirit than a malt whisky distillery makes. “Malt whisky distilleries are maybe now making 10 million or 20 million litres a year – the big ones – and a grain distillery produces over 100 million litres. I wouldn’t consider it a cheaper product, because once you have bought the cask and matured the product you’re pretty much talking the same value as a mature malt. “And this concept, that this ‘industrial’ grain spirit was added to the malt just to give volume in the actual blend is basically nonsense,” he says animatedly. Scott ardently believes grain whiskies have a very important role to play from a blender’s point of view because it has its own flavour and character. He explains: “When you taste the grain and add it with malts, it actually promotes and harmonises and brings those sort of heavier flavours of the malts together. “If you change the percentage of the grain in the blend, it will change the balance of the malts and the grains, and change the taste experience of the final blend. It’s not just a case of you just blend the malts and then add the grain for the sake of it to give you volume. You have to put it all together because if you don’t, you get a different product.” Walker seconds this. “Some of the best, most amazing [grain] whiskies I’ve got to try was when I was looking at making the John Walker 50-year-old Masters' Edition with Jim and Maureen and it was just phenomenal.” Her face lights up as she recalls that time and takes a moment to finish her train of thought. “Amazing, amazing grain whiskies,” she says with a smile. “And at those ages, when you taste them, they make your mouth water, they are so luscious, and fruity and it’s just astounding. But when you mix them together with these great individual casks of single malts, you have that lusciousness and that fruitiness but you also have these other flavours coming and mixing together.” A large part of Walker’s new role is extolling the virtues of all Scotch whiskies – grains, malts, blends, single malts and single casks – to the world. A lack of in-person events, which are slowly starting to pepper the calendar again, have presented an additional challenge but you’d be foolish to think anything can stop the new Johnnie Walker Master Blender from spreading the gospel. For Scott, it’s a case of once tasted, never forgotten. “I always feel like a great blend is the blend that has huge complexity but there is no individual flavour or character that dominates from the nose to taste to finish,” Scott tells me. “You take a sip and you smile and you put it down and it just invites you to have another one. Because you think wow, that is something I must taste it again.” With more remarkable blended whiskies to be found than ever before, you feel it won’t be long before the rest of the world is singing from the same hymn sheet. Browse all Scotch or read more Editorial 

Blended Scotch whisky doesn’t always get the respect it deserves. Part of this reason is legacy, part is misinformation. Holly Motion explores why blended whiskies are just as worthy of a place in your spirits collection as single malts

Johnnie Walker’s Dr Emma Walker and The Last Drop’s Colin Scott on why blended Scotch whiskies are as complex and beguiling as single malts.

Exploring the brilliance of blended whisky

Blended whisky: a marriage made in heaven

Zago

Accounts

Your access is restricted because of your age.

Access forbidden

You must be over the legal age to view this page. Please verify your age to enter.

Are you over the legal age to purchase alcohol?

As a result of the quantity requested for delivery, we recommend using Third Party Shipping. If you proceed with our Shipping, there may be a delay to the selected ship date.

As a result of the quantity requested for delivery, we recommend using Third Party Shipping. If you proceed with our Shipping, you will not be able to define a ship date, and we will get in touch with you to arrange delivery.

Your order request will be cancelled. Are you sure you want to proceed?

Due to the quantity requested for collection, there may be a delay in meeting your requested collection date.

Due to the quantity requested for collection, it is not possible to define a collection date at this stage. Our team will liaise with the warehouse and contact you directly to confirm a suitable pick-up date.

This item has been listed by a collector and is available for storage or immediate delivery

For orders with a high value, we recommend shipping with a third party carrier. Items shipped with third parties will remain in banded OWCs.

Due to the quantity requested, you won’t be able to select a collection date. Please submit your request, and we will liaise with our warehouse and confirm the collection date with you directly.

Due to the quantity requested, you won’t be able to continue the purchase. Please select third party, or change the quantity (maximum 48 is allowed).

Due to the quantity requested, you won’t be able to select a shipping date at checkout. Please submit your request, and we will liaise with our warehouse and confirm the delivery date with you directly.

For up to 499 bottles in storage, the rate is 39¢/bottle per month or a $50 minimum monthly charge (this covers up to 142 bottles). For over 500 bottles, the storage rate is 35¢/bottle per month.

Storage is charged at HKD 40 per 12-bottle case per month. A minimum monthly storage fee of HKD 80 applies, covering up to 24 bottles.

Standard storage rate

By selecting third-party shipping, you will take full responsibility for all aspects of legal compliance and authorize Vinfolio to transfer the items to the party specified in your instructions. Items shipped via third parties will remain in their original packaging.

Collection times are between 8:30am - 12pm & 1:30pm - 4:30pm, Monday to Friday. Wines at Will Call, that are not picked up within 10 business days, will be transferred to storage and subject to a $1.50 per bottle stocking fee.

Items to be sourced and shipped to our state-of-the-art fine wine storage facility for the best possible safe-keeping where you can arrange collection from our warehouse address in Napa.

Will Call (Napa)

You entered the incorrect password too many times. Your account has been temporarily locked. Please wait five minutes before trying again.

It seems you are visiting from {country}, we invite you to experience our {nationality} website.

Are you browsing from {country}?

We’re unable to process your order with both event tickets and a wine or spirit product in the same transaction. To proceed, please remove either the event tickets or the item from your basket. You’ll then be able to complete your purchase.

Please review your basket

Forgot Password

We're in the final stages of upgrading to our brand-new trading platform. As part of this transition, we're currently migrating all customer-owned inventory to ensure a smooth and seamless experience.

Our new and improved platform will be ready for you on Friday, April 4.

Thank you for your patience - we can't wait to show you what's next.

Oops, something went wrong

We couldn't find any results to show here.

Please note: tax will be calculated at the next step

Our website is currently down for maintenance.

Maintenance Mode

Pre-authorizing a Payment Method enables your Account Manager to make payments on your behalf, without payment verification.

Pre-authorize

This transaction has been blocked by authentication failure.

Authentication failure

Your payment card has expired. Please check your details and try again.

Expired card

Insufficient funds to pay your balance. Please check your details and try again.

Insufficient funds

This transaction has been blocked by the payment provider due to possible fraudulent behaviour.

Transaction blocked

Please choose a different payment method and try again.

Unknown error

About description for demonstration purposes

shows all the items you currently store with us. These items can be sold, delivered or transferred.

At {shortName}

Your allocation will be cancelled. Are you sure you want to continue?

Your pre-order item will be deleted. Are you sure you want to continue?

Your delivery request will be cancelled. Are you sure you want to proceed?

represents all the wines that are in your possession and have been consumed.

This is the price you paid for this item.

Cost price

After adding your new address, you'll be redirected back to this page.

Create a new address

Your notification will be deleted. Are you sure you want to continue?

The lowest price you're willing to sell at.

shows all the items that you have pre-ordered, including en primeur wines, and all the items on your watchlist.

Futures

You can set a sell price on items you're selling based on a % of current unit net value.

You can set a market price on items you're selling based on a % of current unit net value.

shows all the actions that you have taken on items in your Portfolio.

groups every action by type - Purchase, Sale, Delivery, and Inbound Transfer - so it's clear at a glance what happened to each item.

History

shows all the items that are currently in transit to or from {shortName}.

In transit

Local delivery is free for orders over HK$1,800 (to a single location). For orders below this value, delivery is HK$150 for up to four cases and HK$50 per case thereafter.

Shipping starts from €15 within Italy and €45 to Switzerland and the rest of Europe for up to 48 bottles (75cl). Costs vary by destination. Larger shipments can be quoted on request.

The date shown below is when your order will ship from our local warehouse. Your final delivery date, along with full tracking details, will be provided once our team has processed your request.

You can arrange collection from our Retail store on 22nd Floor, 8 Wyndham Street, Central Hong Kong.
Collection times are between 9:30am-13:00 and 14:00-18:00pm, Monday to Friday. We are closed on public holidays.

You can arranged collection from our warehouse STI INTERNAZIONALE SPA, on Viale del Lavoro, 57, 37051 Bovolone, Verona.
Pick-up hours are between 8:30 AM to 12:30 PM and 1:30 PM to 5:30 PM, Monday to Friday. We are closed on public holidays.

This is the current estimated market value for this item.

Manually set prices will be overwritten. Already listed wines are not affected.

Updates all unlisted wines to current market price.

Set all at market

represents all the wines you currently have in your Portfolio that aren't stored with us. Press the

My cellar

Name

Net price

New portfolio available

New portfolio

You do not have any invoices at this time.

shows all the items from your Portfolio that are currently on the market.

On sale

shows all the items you currently have in your Portfolio. You can perform individual actions on them from this page.

Overview

shows any items that are currently awaiting user action.

Pending

This is the dynamic estimated value of the item with trading margin removed.

This is the amount of profit you will receive if your listing sells.

Pre-authorised payments enable automatic transactions on your behalf, ensuring seamless and hassle-free payments. This allows recurring charges, subscriptions, or scheduled payments to be processed without manual approval each time.

The number of cases you wish to place on sale

Your catalogue item will be archived. Are you sure you want to continue?

Your catalogue items will be archived. Are you sure you want to continue?

Before you request delivery, you can adjust the quantity for each item in your selection below.

* At time of sale a 15% trading fee will be deducted from the final sale price.

Total estimated value*'

The fixed custom price you wish to sell each item for.

Split into {caseSize} individual {bottleSize}cl bottles.

Title

shows all the items you currently store with us. These items can be sold.

Available for sale — items stored with {name} eligible to be listed on the marketplace.

Profile

This item is at Vinfolio, available for storage or shipping. For more information on shipping and handling visit vinfolio.com/shipping

This item is at FINE+RARE HOME Hong Kong, available for delivery or local pickup. Most Hong Kong deliveries can be made within 3 working days, an exact date will be available when arranging delivery. International deliveries have longer lead-times, please contact us for details.

Wines sold en primeur will be released from the producer after bottling, typically 18 months after the so-called campaign ends. Upon arrival your wine will be stored at Vinfolio in our temperature-controlled warehouse until you decide to take delivery.

We will source this item at the guaranteed price from our network of suppliers and arrange expedited shipment to FINE+RARE.
 The lead-time depends on many variables, but 2-4 weeks is typical for expedited sourcing.
 Once your order is confirmed, we'll keep you updated on its ETA.
 Every item is checked on arrival by our expert team, with photographs available on request (please note that charges may apply).

When a wine is on "pre-arrival", it means that we have a confirmed order on the bottles from our supplier and we are simply waiting for the winery or distributor to ship the wine to us. The delivery timeframe for pre-arrival wines varies significantly, depending on where the wine is coming from. We will notify you once they arrive at our warehouse and, at that point, you can decide to arrange shipping or list them for sale.

Zago

Filter

Please wait

Related articles