For three decades, the FINE+RARE Group has stood at the forefront of the fine wine industry and is now evolving from a pioneering marketplace into a global platform that seamlessly connects collectors, connoisseurs and producers. With a 750-million-dollar portfolio under management, we are not just curators of the world’s most sought-after wines – we are architects of a digital, data-driven future for the industry.  
From Exchange to Platform: Scaling for the Future  At the FINE+RARE Group, we are engineering the future of fine wine trading, transitioning from a traditional exchange into a scalable global platform. This evolution mirrors the best practices in technology and digital marketplaces – designed to enhance efficiency, drive growth and streamline operations. With a single proprietary platform, we are not just connecting buyers and sellers; we are creating an ecosystem where access, agility and control are redefining the experience of fine wine buying, selling and storing.  In January 2025, we completed the core foundation of this platform, an advanced infrastructure capable of handling complex integrations, proprietary payments and data-driven customer insights. This centralized approach allows for rapid scaling while maintaining authenticity and exclusivity.  Our New Trading Platform in the United States  In April, we will complete the U.S. deployment and re-launch our back-end technology stack as well as our state-of-the-art digital front-end platform designed to enhance the fine wine buying and selling experience to our Vinfolio customers.   Key features include an intuitive Portfolio management system that offers a single-page cellar view, real-time market data integration, and wine trading capabilities, allowing clients to set their own trading prices and manage their collections with unprecedented ease.   The platform also boasts improved search and filter functionalities, enabling users to swiftly navigate a vast selection of products and access in-depth producer and region profiles. Additionally, the enhanced Editorial section provides rich content to assist clients in making informed purchasing decisions. These technological advancements ensure a more efficient, personalized and insightful journey for collectors worldwide.  Marketplace Dominance: The Ultimate Fine Wine Destination  Our marketplace model sets the FINE+RARE Group apart as the leading fine wine platform, offering collectors unmatched access to the rarest bottles. With a curated selection spanning Bordeaux, Burgundy and beyond, we provide a single-point solution for sourcing, valuation and sales.  Our global reach is a strategic advantage. With operations in the United States, United Kingdom, Asia and Europe, we facilitate 24-hour trading and logistics, ensuring that every bottle finds its rightful place in the hands of discerning buyers. Data is powering our marketplace, enhancing customer-product matching and refining real-time pricing strategies.  The Power of Global Integration  Through strategic mergers and acquisitions, including our 2022 merger with Vinfolio, we have expanded our reach into the U.S. market – the world’s largest fine wine economy. This integration has strengthened our compliance infrastructure, logistics, and direct-to-client capabilities, making the FINE+RARE Group the dominant force in fine wine trading.  Supplier Relationships: Strengthening the Global Supply Chain  At the FINE+RARE Group, our strength lies not only in our marketplace but in the deep, strategic relationships we have built with suppliers – including some of the world’s most esteemed wineries, négociants, and merchants. Through direct allocations and exclusive partnerships, we provide unparalleled access to rare and investment-grade wines, often securing highly sought-after allocations before they reach the broader market​  Our supplier relationships are carefully curated, ensuring authenticity, provenance, and trust in every bottle. Additionally, our logistics and digital integration strategies will soon allow suppliers to self-manage inventory, pricing and market demand with greater visibility and efficiency. This data-driven approach enhances liquidity, ensuring that both buyers and producers benefit from a dynamic, well-balanced marketplace​.  A Leader in Fine Wine Asset Management  With nearly $750 million in fine wine assets under management (AUM), the FINE+RARE Group is one of the foremost custodians of rare and investment-grade wines. Our digital portfolio platform empowers clients to manage, transfer, sell, and arrange deliveries with unparalleled ease. As we scale toward $1 billion in AUM, we continue to lead the industry in offering end-to-end asset management services.  Innovation: Digital Excellence  Technology is reshaping the fine wine market, and the FINE+RARE Group is at the forefront of this transformation. Recommendation engines are already enhancing customer experiences, while data-driven insights optimize pricing, stock management and logistics.   We are pioneering white-label solutions for elite producers, integrating client-facing web tools with backend logistics to expand their brand presence. Our recent collaborations exemplify how we are merging tradition with digital innovation to create new pathways for collectors and producers alike. Exclusivity Through Access: Controlled Supply & Distinctive Value True desirability isn’t created through abundance – it’s earned through intention and access. By curating rare allocations and exclusive offerings, we build a marketplace where scarcity enhances value, supports margin, and sets brands apart. This approach ensures our clients are not just customers, but valued members of a finely tuned community built around shared discovery and trust. Client Experience: The Art of Fine Wine Collecting  Our focus is not just on transactions – it’s on relationships. The FINE+RARE Group is built on a foundation of trust, expertise, and bespoke service, ensuring that each collector’s journey is tailored to their preferences. From legendary producers to emerging winemakers, our portfolio remains dynamic, engaging, and exclusive.  Through private tastings, curated events and elite collaborations, we offer collectors access to experiences as rare as the wines they seek. Our commitment to editorial excellence further deepens engagement, providing insights into vintages, producers and market trends.  The Future: A Marketplace Without Limits  As the FINE+RARE Group continues to scale, our ambition is clear: to be the world’s definitive fine wine platform, seamlessly blending marketplace liquidity and digital intelligence. With our unparalleled portfolio, proprietary technology and global reach, we are setting a new standard for the future of fine wine trading.  This is just the beginning of an exciting chapter, and we look forward to bringing you on this journey. It has never been a more interesting time to buy and sell wines in this ever-evolving global marketplace. 
  Managing Risk: A Transparent Approach from Day One  We recognize that any platform transformation — particularly one involving legacy systems and historical data — comes with inherent risks. From day one, we have addressed these head-on. Our integration strategy includes rigorous data migration protocols, full system testing, and live-market simulations to ensure continuity of service. Legacy issues, including inconsistencies in portfolio data, valuation records, and trading permissions, have been reviewed in detail and remediated where necessary. For clients, this means minimal disruption and a step-change improvement in accuracy, functionality, and control. We will continue to operate with transparency, offering dedicated support and a direct line to our expert team to resolve any transitional issues swiftly and professionally. Our commitment is clear: to maintain the trust we’ve earned while delivering a seamless upgrade to a smarter, more powerful fine wine experience. If you have any questions or concerns, please do not hesitate to reach out on feedback@vinfolio.com.  

Since 2022, Vinfolio is part of the FINE+RARE Group, the world’s leading destination for fine wine, offering a global experience where collectors and connoisseurs can discover and acquire sought-after collectables. Here, we explain our platform strategy and the changes coming this April. 

We explain our platform strategy and what changes are coming your way this April.

Redefining the Fine Wine Marketplace for the Future

Broad in build and sporting a leather necklace, Mike Ratcliffe looks like a man who would be good at wrangling cattle. But that burly side is countered by an accent softened by time working and studying abroad (not to mention being married to a Brit), and a certain polish – even after an overnight flight from the Cape – that speaks of the business sphere. It’s clear that he’s no-nonsense – a man with ambition, and not one, I suspect, you’d want to get on the wrong side of. But it’s also clear that his savvy brand-building has been key to the success of Vilafonté.  He is a man with a plan – a 100-year plan, in fact. As of December last year, when co-founders Dr Zelma Long and Dr Phil Freese retired, Ratcliffe is the lone man at the helm of Vilafonté – a wine producer that has been attracting increasing amounts of attention. In a recent report for the Wine Advocate, Anthony Mueller wrote, “Vilafonté continues inching toward triple digits with a spectacular array of new releases” – awarding its 2021 Series C 99 points (making it the joint-highest-scoring South African wine to date, sitting alongside Sadie’s 2021 Palladius and an 1800 Muscat of Alexandria from Jaubert). But Ratcliffe’s not resting on his laurels: as he tells me, “If you’re going to do anything, go 100%.”  Ratcliffe’s family owned Warwick Estate – and as the world opened up to South African wine in the wake of apartheid – they realised they needed help developing their wines. Although Warwick was one of the nation’s stalwart names, “We were the big fish in the small pond,” says Ratcliffe – and to grow internationally, they needed outside input. They hired Phil Freese – then Vice President of Winegrowing at Robert Mondavi and responsible for planting the first Opus One vineyards – as viticultural consultant (for a “staggering” fee, Ratcliffe tells me). The investment paid off and after two years, they had made amazing progress – and Freese suggested they use Zelma Long (previously of Robert Mondavi, then Simi) to consult on the winemaking side.  At the same time Freese was working on his PhD, which involved research on the world’s oldest soils – many of which he discovered were in southern Africa. The oldest documented soil in Africa is vilafontes, thought to have originated 800 million years ago – and he, along with Long (whom he later married), started wondering about this soil’s potential for wine. The couple – along with the help of an investor Sydney Back – bought 40 hectares of land in 1996, at the foot of the Simonsberg mountain in Paarl, planting their first vines the following year. Vilafonté was born.  Ratcliffe had been working abroad as a skipper, before heading off to Roseworthy to get his MBA in wine in 1999, but had met Long and Freese through their work at Warwick, and was keeping an eye on their new venture. Soon after he returned back home, Sydney Back – a man Ratcliffe describes as “the Robert Mondavi of South Africa” – passed away, meaning Long and Freese were looking for a new partner. Impulsively, Ratcliffe volunteered – scrambling to get the money together in time for the deal to be finalised in 2001.   The trio made wines in 2000 and 2001 but only to get a feel for the site, planning to make 2002 their first release. Unfortunately, the vintage was tricky and Long told them firmly: “It’s good – but it’s not good enough.” It’s a decision that the bank didn’t necessarily appreciate (“That was a tough year,” says Ratcliffe) – but allowed them to launch with 2003, “arguably the best vintage of the decade” according to Ratcliffe (and a wine that he tells me is still “impeccable”). No one seems to be clear on how “vilafontes” became Vilafonté – whether it was a marketing decision to add a Gallic twist to the name, or just a mistake somewhere along the way – but it stuck.  They had originally planned to make a single Grand Vin, but the site had other ideas – producing two distinct styles, and so they created Series C (a Cabernet-driven blend) and Series M (a Merlot-driven blend). It may not make perfect business sense, having two flagship wines, but repeat experiments have (so far, at least) confirmed it was the right choice. While some plots clearly belong to C or M, the blends are different each year – and younger-vine fruit or anything that doesn’t fit is declassified to Seriously Old Dirt. This latter wine was launched with the 2012 vintage, using purchased fruit from around the Western Cape as well as declassified plots to provide an earlier-drinking entry-point to the Vilafonté brand.   The secret to the wines is the soil – incredibly poor, ancient soils, degraded and nutrient-deficient – meaning the vines really struggle. Even 27 years on, the vines are scrawny little things – producing tiny yields of concentrated fruit. It’s one reason that the site had – to their knowledge – never been planted, and local farmers were puzzled why anyone decided to put down roots here. Combine that with a “deeply pragmatic” approach (in Ratcliffe’s own words), and a long-term team dedicated to doing “the same thing over and over and over”, and you have the recipe for something special. In Ratcliffe’s mind, it’s key that they aren’t trying to create something new each vintage – but continue their pursuit of perfection with Series C and M. They work sustainably but sensibly, with cover crops, high-tech underground drip irrigation and a cellar that operates purely on solar power, but avoid certification or trading on any green credentials: for the Vilafonté team, it is all about the quality in the bottle.  For years, Ratcliffe juggled managing both Warwick and Vilafonté, but eventually sold his old family business to a California-based venture capital fund, allowing him to focus exclusively on Vilafonté. The property has just released its 2021s, the 18th vintage to emerge from the Paarl estate – and its top-scoring wines to date. Yet Ratcliffe is clear that this is just the latest step in his masterplan. The vines are yet to turn 30, and there are a few small parcels on the estate that could still be planted, while the team is constantly running trials – empowered to challenge everything they think they know. Just last December (2023), Long and Freese retired – after a four-year handover period, but will remain loosely involved. Ratcliffe isn’t looking back, though: as he says, “Our greatest wines are ahead of us.”  Vilafonté’s 2021 releases are available now  Read more Editorial  

The Wine Advocate is yet to grant any South African wine a perfect score – but some are getting close. Most recently, Vilafonté earned 99 points for its 2021 Series C. As it’s released, we sit down with owner Mike Ratcliffe to find out about this Paarl project and its rapid trajectory to stardom

Wine Advocate recently awarded Vilafonte’s 2021 Series C 99 points – we sat down with owner Mike Ratcliffe to find out more about the Paarl wine estate

Kicking the dirt with Vilafonte’s Mike Ratcliffe

Kicking the dirt with Vilafonté’s Mike Ratcliffe

For more than two decades, Donum has been quietly crafting single-site, single-clone and sometimes single-barrel wines. With a new estate vineyard to their name, Rachael Ryan – Senior Buyer at our US arm, Vinfolio – sat down with winemaker Dan Fishman to find out more about the ambitious estate  Like most of the New World, California eschews a hierarchy of vineyards. Yet in the absence of Grands Crus and First Growths, some vineyards are just acknowledged as being a notch above the rest. Ask any winemaker for a wish list of vineyards, and a handful of familiar names is repeated. One of these is the Savoy Vineyard.  Nestled at the north end of the Anderson Valley, Savoy was first planted in 1991 and quickly became a source of Pinot Noir for some of the most respected wineries in Northern California, including Littorai, Williams Selyem, Radio-Coteau and Peay, with many more on the waiting list. Last year, however, it was acquired by Donum, a winery based in Carneros with a reputation for producing small lot Chardonnay and Pinot Noir, sold exclusively to private collectors and therefore rarely seen on the market.  Since it was created in 2001, Donum had slowly expanded its reach beyond Carneros, with vineyards in the Russian River and Anderson Valleys, as well as the Sonoma Coast. With the acquisition of Savoy, however, their already envious collection of vineyards took a very notable – and sizable – jump. The gain of this prestigious vineyard marks a shift for Donum, who will now produce wine from estate fruit only: 130 acres at their estate in Carneros, 16 acres at the Winside Vineyard in the Russian River Valley, 20 acres at the newly planted Bodega Vineyard on the Sonoma Coast, and the 42 planted acres at Savoy Vineyard in the Anderson Valley.   Already well-known for their world-class art collection (with over 50 works by the likes of Keith Haring, Yayoi Kusama and Ai Weiwei), what many visitors may not realise is that Donum now has a solid foothold in each of the premium Pinot Noir and Chardonnay winegrowing regions in Northern California.   In some ways, the vineyards owned by Donum are innately similar, perhaps most closely linked the marine layer. This dense fog rolls in from the Pacific Ocean most afternoons during the growing season and is a key characteristic of each of these vineyard sites. The mechanics of this cooling marine layer are somewhat straightforward. As temperatures climb in inland California, the hot air rises, creating a vacuum into which the denser, colder air sitting over the Pacific Ocean rushes. On a typical summer day, coastal areas are fully clouded over by late afternoon, and the fog continues to creep further inland, searching for gaps and valleys in the coastal ranges to extend its reach. This cold, moist air both lowers sunlight hours and keeps temperatures low. In other words, this coastal phenomenon is an extremely useful aide in the production of lively wines that retain a fresh edge.  Aside from cooling fog influence, however, the vineyards Donum farms are topographically quite different. The estate property in Carneros, with its gently rolling hills and proximity to the bay, straddles the southern portion of both Sonoma and Napa counties (though Donum’s property is firmly situated on the Sonoma side), with consistent winds blowing from the southeast over the San Pablo Bay giving the region a wide diurnal shift and the resulting wines a sense of energetic tension. The Anderson Valley, on the other hand, is a narrow swathe cut through dense, old redwood forest, and it's difficult not to mentally connect the rugged hills that line the valley on both sides with a similar evergreen, earthy core in the wines. The Russian River Valley is a warmer microclimate, further removed from the cooling influence of the ocean or bay, with loamy soils producing a more concentrated style of wine with opulent fresh fruit.  But for Dan Fishman (Vice President of Winemaking and Vineyards) perhaps the most unifying characteristic across each site is a hyper-focus on farming, which he believes is the best – and perhaps the only – way to showcase these unique terroirs. When he joined Donum in 2007 as a cellar intern, the farming was conventional, with routine application of herbicides and synthetic fertiliser. In recent years, however, he has spearheaded a pivot towards organic farming.   Notable features of this approach include an on-site composting program, where manure from local dairy farms is added to pomace from the winery and canes from pruning. Other eco-friendly initiatives include an integrated pest management system, extensive cover cropping (Fishman estimates Donum currently uses 20 different cover crop blends comprised of over 40 different plants), as well as animals brought into the rows for winter grazing. All these systems have improved the soil structure, “bringing more back to the soil than we’re taking from it”, he explains.  A peek into the rows at the Carneros estate reveals this shift in viticultural philosophy, with verdant cover crops and bees hovering. Tucked between the sculptures that dot the property are vines that are farmed meticulously. While the art is spectacular and very difficult to ignore, the attention to detail in the vineyards is perhaps even more impressive. Donum is now one of the first wineries in Sonoma County to achieve Regenerative Organic Certified (ROC) status for all its estate vineyards, and they’ve also been certified organic from the California Certified Organic Farming Association (CCOF) since the summer of 2022. The ROC status, however, is one that Fishman is particularly proud of, as it encompasses not just soil health and land management, but also animal welfare and the working conditions of the employees.    When asked if he has seen a difference in the behaviour of the vines, and in the quality of the fruit, since undertaking a rigorous approach to organic viticulture, Fishman’s answer is an emphatic yes. He points to the 2023 growing season as a prime example. In a year marked by record-breaking rainfall that extended into early spring, the threat of mildew was abnormally high. “Our conventional neighbors were spraying like crazy and still had mildew,” Fishman says, “but we were obviously using organic methods and applying them less frequently, and we had way less mildew. I think the vines’ natural resiliency was coming out.”   In line with a larger overall trend in Northern California, Fishman says he also has been trying to fine-tune the weight and concentration of the Chardonnay and Pinot Noir produced at each vineyard. If Burgundy’s biggest challenge historically has been to achieve even ripeness vintage to vintage, California’s problem cultivating Pinot Noir and Chardonnay been quite the opposite: how to tame abundant sunshine and control vigour resulting from warm days and fertile soils. While the fog assists with this task, one unexpected benefit of the winery’s intensive focus on farming, Fishman explains, is that the vines are more in balance. “It’s on the subtle side,” he says, “but our wine chemistry is looking better too – higher acidity and more flavour at lower sugars.” Opulence has given way to restraint and nuance.   The resulting range of wines at Donum is an impressive display of small-lot vinification, broken down not just by appellation or vineyard, but also often by individual blocks. In 2021, the winery produced six distinct Chardonnays and 17 Pinot Noirs in total from Carneros, the Russian River Valley and the Anderson Valley. With the development of their newest vineyard on the Sonoma Coast, Donum’s already complex patchwork quilt of wines is about to get even bigger.   With a gentle hand in both the vineyard and winery, Fishman hopes to highlight the most minute of variations in each wine, allowing the innate characteristics of each site to shine through. “We have a really intense focus on vineyard flavour first,” he explains.    “We’re not trying to force a house style, just let the vineyard or block do the talking,” Fishman continues, “We’re trying to make the best Pinot Noir and Chardonnay in California, wherever that comes from.” With access to such an extensive assortment of prime locations, now including the illustrious Savoy Vineyard as a feather in its proverbial cap, to say that the future at Donum is exciting is an understatement indeed. While many may think of California Pinot Noir and Chardonnay as one group of wines, a monolith with little variation in style, Fishman and his team at Donum hope to change that mindset, one vineyard at a time.  The Donum wines have historically been available only to those on their mailing list, but we are now working directly with the estate: browse all current Donum listings. 

Donum’s focus on site sets it apart. We talk to winemaker Dan Fishman about the wines, vineyards and estate’s significant ambitions

Discovering Donum’s single-site wines

First place: Donum

I vividly remember the first time I tasted the Alvina Pernot wines. Burgundy was bitingly cold, and we ducked beneath Alvina Pernot and her husband Philippe Abadie’s home into their make-shift cellar, then delightfully cosy (at the time warmed just enough to encourage malolactic fermentation), and a welcome retreat from the Côte d’Or’s bracing winter weather. We squeezed into the tiny cellar, edging between the barrels crammed into the space. The wines were thrilling. Taut and pure styles of modern, pinpoint, mineral Chardonnay that were – and are – hard to resist. We were tasting the 2019s, just the second vintage from the modest operation; but they’ve rapidly established themselves as one of the Côte de Beaune’s most exciting new names. Alvina – always chic, dressed immaculately, with her gleaming green eyes and delicate features – doesn’t look like the stereotypical Burgundian vigneron. You're unlikely to spy dirt under her fingernails, and I struggle to imagine her sporting a pair of overalls. But wine is in her blood. The Pernot name is one that will be familiar to Burgundy-lovers – the family is one of the largest vineyard owners in Puligny-Montrachet (just after Leflaive), and makes some of the village’s best wines. Indeed, Alvina worked for the family estate Domaine Paul Pernot for years, but the urge to break out on her own grew over time. The Paul Pernot wines are the epitome of traditional white Burgundy, round, rich and sometimes sumptuous – and Alvina and Philippe wanted to make something of their own, a leaner style that suited their palates better. In 2017, a vineyard came up for sale – and it seemed like a sign. The plot, La Rue aux Vaches, is classified as village Puligny-Montrachet, but sits just below Premier Cru Clos des Meix and Les Pucelles. The family domaine had been farming and making wine from the site for years, and the couple knew how good the fruit was. They leapt at the chance to buy it, and the Alvina Pernot project was born. They were able to buy additional fruit from Alvina’s family, and started working on sourcing grapes from other Crus. Their first release, from the 2018 vintage, totalled 8,000 bottles. It's easy to see how challenging it might have been – going from working for the family business to setting up a separate project, and bearing the weight of their legacy. Alvina and her father have very different approaches in both the vineyard and winery, which certainly comes with its challenges, as they find the fine line between family and business, negotiating a new aspect to their relationship. “I think Alvina’s father was proud that she was starting something of her own,” Philippe says, looking affectionately at his wife. Indeed, it’s taken time for Alvina to fully step away from the family business, only officially resigning in March of this year to focus on their own label. Juggling the two estates (not to mention their son Pâris, who was born at the start of 2022) hasn’t been easy, and Philippe has – until now – had to do much of the work in the winery. Yet it’s also their family ties that have given them access to such incredible vineyards – appellations that are almost impossible to secure for most newcomers.  Five vintages in, it’s amazing to see how the project has evolved. They now produce 35,000 bottles, with the range having grown from seven to 24 cuvées. The duo are so embedded in the region and well-connected that they are able to source from some of the region’s best names, securing top sites that would be the envy of most estates. In addition to La Rue aux Vaches, they now own two further plots (both of which previously belonged to Alvina’s family): Les Noyers Brets (which is next to the couple’s home, added from 2020) and La Rue de Bois (the latter the vines that surround their winery, added in 2021). The focus is increasingly on specific sites within Puligny-Montrachet, with an ever-increasing number of Premiers and Grands Crus. In 2022, for example, they bottled three different wines from Folatières – Ez Folatières, Peux Bois and Clos des Folatières; and their Bourgogne Blanc has been divided into two different bottlings from different sites. Until 2021 the wines were made at Domaine Paul Pernot (and aged under Alvina and Philippe’s house) but the couple have now finished their own winery – giving them greater capacity, but also even greater control over the wines they’re making. From better temperature control and a broader range of maturation vessels (including both glass and amphorae, alongside oak) to reducing sulphur levels and more control over bottling, it’s allowed for even more precision. Each year, they tell me, they are pushing and doing “des petits tests”, looking to tweak and see how they can improve.  Alvina and Philippe firmly believe that almost all the work has to be done in the vineyard, with farming the three plots they own a huge part of what they do. Philippe has been doing it almost entirely himself – and is relieved that they’ve just been able to hire someone to help them. But the significance of the vineyards work is also why it is so important for them to source fruit carefully from growers with similar standards, and whom they trust. As with any small producer, the challenge when it comes to farming is not just quality, but quantity. Alvina and Philippe do almost everything by hand (indeed, they don’t even own a tractor yet – and still borrow Alvina’s father’s one when they can), and sustainability is a key focus. After pruning, it’s common in Burgundy to see the horizon dotted with smoking fires, as the cuttings are burnt; Philippe and Alvina avoid this and the resulting pollution, instead using the cuttings for a mulch to further increase the organic matter in their soils. They aren’t looking to be certified organic, but avoid chemical sprays wherever possible and are doing trials with biodynamics; the risks, and costs, are the threat, however. They can’t afford to lose an entire crop, as would have happened in a vintage like 2021, should they have refused to use anything but copper and sulphur; nor do they want to have to sell their wine for five times as much as they currently do, to allow such a philosophy. Ideals can only take you so far. While 75% of the job might be done by the time the fruit is harvested, it’s all too easy – even with the very best fruit – to ruin it all in the winery. “There’s nothing minor during vinification – everything matters,” Alvina explains. “Each tiny detail makes the difference between an average wine, a good wine and an excellent one.” Although between them the duo had plenty of experience, nothing is set in stone, and each year they feel they are learning more – as they continue to question what they do and why. “It’s also important not to be too wrapped up in our little cocoon, just the two of us, but to talk honestly each year with our expert oenologist [Pierre Fonteneau] about the wines,” Philippe explains, when it comes to the winemaking. “There are three voices in the business – Alvina, me and the oenologist – and not one counts less than the others.” It’s easy to imagine that any Burgundy producer’s goal is to be a domaine – to own a prime selection of the region’s most prized sites; but for this young couple, that’s not really the aim. Alvina is set to inherit some enviable plots, but they can’t imagine giving up the opportunity to continue working with many different parcels. “The diversity of terroirs is absolutely the most interesting part for us,” they say. It’s likely their range will continue to shift – as they get access to new, exciting parcels and discover those they really love. Ultimately, however, Alvina explains, “The aim is to make wines we love, the wines we want to drink. When people are happy to be there, to share the wines with us, and to find them, we’ve done what we set out to do.” Explore all current listings from Alvina Pernot or read more about Burgundy

We’ve been following Alvina Pernot – granddaughter of Paul Pernot – since she first struck out on her own. Sophie Thorpe sat down with Alvina and her husband Philippe Abadie to talk about the wines, their philosophy and the future

As Philippe Abadie and Alvina Pernot release their fifth vintage, we look at how this fledgling wine estate in Burgundy’s Puligny-Montrachet is evolving

Five years of Puligny-Montrachet’s Alvina Pernot

The other Pernot: Puligny-Montrachet’s Alvina Pernot

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

Anyone who’s had the misfortune of tasting a de-alcoholised version knows that alcohol is key to wine. Take it away and it leaves a gaping void in the glass – stripping the liquid of body and flavour. Those attempting to craft alcohol-free alternatives look to make up for its absence with sugar or flavourings, but the results don’t come close to the real thing. And of course the very fermentation process is key to complexity – there’s a reason we aren’t collecting single-site examples of even the finest raw grape juice. But alcohol’s a hot topic – and not just because of any health considerations. Trends and shifts in climate have seen the average ABV (alcohol by volume) inch upwards. Indeed, a report last year from Liv-ex suggested the average alcohol level has leapt almost an entire 1% for both California and Bordeaux since the 1990s. While once 14 or 14.5% might have been the purview only of the New World, it’s rapidly become the norm in Bordeaux. Rising temperatures are one element, as indeed is technology and know-how – harvesting cleaner, riper fruit and more efficient winemaking. Then, of course, there’s the fashion factor – the pendulum swing, arguably driven by Robert Parker, for bold, ripe, sweet and inevitably high-alcohol wines. “He loved that weight, that impression of sweetness,” Paul Hobbs tells me. “We jumped on the wagon – but we didn’t know what we were jumping on.” A cult name, Hobbs crafts some of Napa’s highest-scoring and most expensive Cabernets; indeed, Parker named him his Wine Personality of the Year twice. Born in New York State, the Davis-trained winemaker founded his namesake estate in 1991. He’d started his career at Robert Mondavi (arriving in 1977), working at Opus One and Simi before setting up on his own, with a flurry of personal projects and list of consultancies that has grown ever since. He openly admits that he got caught up in “Parkerisation”, crafting big, bold wines – no great surprise given the scores, and sales, that followed for those who did. But he’s been pulling back in recent years, and has never quite fit the cookie-cutout for the cult Cabernet crew. Ever since he first started making his own wines in the 1990s, he’s championed native yeasts (relatively radical at the time), and no fining or filtering. While he embraces oak, he’s always been aware that it’s the quality of fruit in the vineyard, preserved by operating a flawlessly clean winery, that is key to producing fine wine. Make no mistake that Hobbs makes rich, plush wines – and the alcohol levels certainly don’t sit at 12.5% – but for him there is much more to alcohol than one number. “I didn’t give much thought to it in the beginning,” Hobbs says. “And there wasn’t really much reason to.” When he was at Mondavi, the wines tended to sit at 13.5% – but then they started to go up. “There was a time when 16% was normal,” he confesses with some amazement. “Some of these wines were difficult. They didn’t age. They would get tired,” Hobbs says. “But all that took us time to learn – no one had ever been in that domain before.” He notes that there was “a backlash” in the British press against wines that didn’t please the palates of “the Hugh Johnsons, the Jancis Robinsons and Anthony Roses”; a response he clearly feels was a little unjust. “It’s far more complex than a simple number,” he says. “15 isn’t always 15.” And it’s true – alcohol doesn’t feel the same. How many times have you looked at the label of a wine and been surprised – either for better or worse? Alcohol is one element working in tandem with a wine’s body, concentration and flavour complexity – and there’s no easy figure to tell you how it integrates with these other components. But there’s another key reason why the same alcohol level can seem so different: the nature of the alcohol. The main alcohol in wine is ethanol (a molecule with two carbons), however fermentation produces other types of alcohols – specifically superior or higher alcohols. Often known as fusel oils – from a German term “Fusel” which is colloquial for low-quality booze – these alcohols have three to six carbons in their molecular form and are significantly more viscous (hence “oils”).  While ethanol is pure and relatively neutral, these heavier superior alcohols can – in low volumes – bring flavour, texture and interest. “It’s what makes something more than vodka,” Hobbs explains. Hexanols can add herbaceous aromas; 2-phenylethanol gives a rose-like scent. But they’re also associated with headaches and hangovers. In the world of spirits, these fusel oils are what runs out of the still last – forming the “tails” of distillation, which are used to varying degrees depending on the type of spirit being produced. “Alcohol is alcohol? Well, yes and no,” says Hobbs. It's high numbers of these superior alcohols, he believes, that can make one 15% wine feel clumsy and lumbering, while another – with lower fusel oil levels – can carry the same ABV with ease. The production of these superior alcohols depends on many things – yeast strain, temperature, oxygen availability and acidity. In general, red grapes produce more of the compounds (which is partly why spirits tend to use white grapes as their base). But Hobbs thinks it ultimately comes back to the vineyard: he’s started noticing that if berries are heat-damaged, they produce more superior alcohols. “Our goal is to keep these superior alcohols as low as possible – and that’s just about harvesting not sun-damaged fruit,” Hobbs explains. Under the warmth of the Californian sun, it’s common to get sun damage early in the season, but shrivelled berries tend to fall off nascent clusters of their own accord; more concerning is fruit that can be damaged internally and then won’t go through véraison, which needs to be sorted out. Late in the season, Hobbs and his team look to walk through the vines and cut off any “shoulders” (the side cluster at the very top of a bunch of grapes) that have been exposed. With global warming, this is an increasing threat – and an element of climate change that is only now being considered. If grapes are sunburnt or shrivelled, they tend to struggle with fermentation, and the stressed yeasts produce more of the superior alcohols. “The wine is going to be fat and heavy on the palate,” says Hobbs. “You can lower the alcohol by adding water – but it doesn’t change its personality.” If the fruit is in good shape – he says – you simply don’t have that issue, even at 15.5%. And those wines, provided they’ve got the requisite balance, age amazingly. Rajat Parr (star sommelier turned winemaker) and Jasmine Hirsch (of Hirsch Vineyards) founded In Pursuit of Balance (IPOB) in 2011 to champion lighter wines that they felt “weren’t chasing after ratings from wine critics”. These “new California” wines (Jon Bonné published his book The New California Wine in 2013) tended to have lower alcohols and less oak – following the swing of the pendulum back the other way; an anti-Parker effort in many ways. I attended the last London IPOB tasting in 2016, catching the crest of the wave as the movement called it quits – feeling they’d achieved their aim of building the reputation of an alternative California. Paul Hobbs arguably sits at the opposite end of the California wine spectrum (“Should all wines be 13.5%?” he says to me, “Why is that the magic number?”) – but philosophically, they’re surprisingly aligned. It’s not about the number, it’s about the balance – and Hobbs, like any posterchild of the new California movement, will tell you that the secret lies in the vineyard. The challenge is to farm and pick the perfect fruit – to find the sweet spot between flavour, sugar and phenolic ripeness. As Hobbs says to me, “That’s the dance between man and nature.” Forget the maths; this is farming. A note on the numbers Strictly speaking, the alcohol level on any label isn’t exactly what’s in the bottle. For wines sold in the EU and UK (both those made here and imported), producers are given 0.5% leeway – meaning that what’s on the bottle is generally reflective of its contents. In the US and Australia, however, wines sold domestically can differ by as much as 1.5% from the label – meaning a wine labelled as 14% could be anything from 12.5 to 15.5%. Browse all Paul Hobbs listings or discover more Editorial

With climate change and the influence of Robert Parker, it’s undeniable that we’ve seen a rising tide of alcohol levels. But there’s much more to the conversation than a simple number – as we discovered tasting and talking with Paul Hobbs, one of Napa’s leading names

The Napa winemaker Paul Hobbs on how we perceive alcohol in wine and why the alcohol level on any label isn’t exactly what’s in the bottle. 

Paul Hobbs on alcohol in wine 

The nature of the numbers: Paul Hobbs on alcohol

What defines a fine wine? For many, it is a bottle’s ability to improve with age. A wine’s longevity is even seen, by some, as the ultimate measure of its quality. It’s true that aged wine can be some of the most memorable – capturing an essence of time that’s impossible to recreate. The ageing process can be central to a wine’s (or, for that matter, whisky’s) progression to another, unparalleled level of complexity. Yet how a wine ages remains something of a mystery to both winemakers and collectors. There is still a great deal of conjecture about how a wine will develop, why it does so, and whether it is even worth the wait. Unlike whisky, wine is much less stable on its journey into maturity. As Christian Moueix puts it, “Wine is a complex matrix of thousands of compounds suspended in a delicate equilibrium.” This equilibrium is fragile, age a potential threat and a wine’s trajectory therefore incredibly difficult to predict. There was a time when wine drinkers dismissed the New World. Today, fortunately, that’s not the case – and it’s rightfully acknowledged for producing fine wine. However, some snobbery remains. Drinkers tend – beyond a handful of the very top names – to drink New World wines much younger than their Old World counterparts. Ask any oenophile about the oldest bottle they’ve drunk, and we’d put money on it being from Europe – Bordeaux, Burgundy, the Mosel, Alsace or Douro. Of course, one element is undoubtedly availability. The traditions of drinking Bordeaux (even from modest châteaux), for example, at full maturity – 20 or 30 years down the line – is not uncommon, and these wines continue to be regularly traded among collectors. New World wines at full maturity are much more of a rarity. Many of the younger regions in the New World still haven’t had the chance to build up such an extensive back catalogue, yet the wines have everything they need to comfortably age as long as their counterparts. Burgundy maestro Jean-Marie Fourrier, who now also manages Mornington Peninsula winery Bass Phillip in Australia, is an advocate for New World wines’ ageability, with Bass Phillip’s Pinot Noirs a case in point. But he believes the reputation for a shorter drinking window is partly due to practical, economic necessity. “When you start making wine at a young winery, you need a quick turn over, a quick return on investment,” he says. Therefore, producers craft wines that can be drunk younger. It is only once a winery, or a region, is established that winemakers can afford to have a longer-term approach and deliberately make wines to age or hold back stock. In this respect, the established classical regions of Europe have hundreds of years of history to fall back on. Napa has long since proved its mettle producing wines that can age. But just what it is that allows a wine to improve with age has been a hot topic of conversation in the region for decades. Tor Kenward – of Tor Wines – recollects a conversation between himself, Robert Mondavi and another legendary Napa winemaker, André Tchelistcheff over 40 years ago. Sitting around a table, they were trying to determine the key factor that makes great wine age. Was it the winemaking? The quality or concentration of the grapes? Or was it all about harvesting at the right time? Tchelistcheff – who trained in Europe and, by this time, had been making wine in Napa for over four decades – contemplated the suggestions. High acid levels (low pH), high concentration of tannins and oxygen management were all tabled and, while he accepted all were important, for him, a great wine for ageing needed “flesh”. By this, recalls Kenward, he meant the grapes needed a certain type of ripeness – not over, not under, but perfect physiological ripeness. Forty years on and Kenward still believes Tchelistcheff was right, yet it is an aspect often forgotten in the discussion of a wine’s ability to age. Finding this perfect window of physiological ripeness can be a challenge in warmer regions, and a warming climate, and therefore remains an obstacle for much of the New World. These regions tend to be warmer than historically marginal wine-growing regions of Europe, and therefore grapes can ripen quickly, but with this fast ripening comes a risk of reaching sugar ripeness before the skins have had the necessary time to reach maturity. Christian Moueix is one of the world’s most experienced winemakers, having managed both Pétrus, Trotanoy and other top Pomerol estates, as well as Napa’s Dominus. He agrees with Tchelistcheff that picking the grapes at optimum ripeness is a hugely important factor when producing wines that can age. “If harvested too early, grapes have a smaller quantity of extractible phenolic compounds and […] may not have formed the longer chains and bonds that make them stable.” On the other hand, when overripe, “These phenolic compounds are degraded through oxidation.” For Moueix, the temperate climates in Europe are ideal for “developing and maintaining a high ratio of phenolic compounds”, whereas in many New World regions, there is a propensity for excessive heat, over-ripeness and therefore oxidative winemaking which he feels is, “likely to contribute to wines that age prematurely”. In warmer climates, Moueix believes, “extreme heat, enzymatic and physiochemical reactions degrade anthocyanins within the berry, lowering the concentration of total phenolic compounds and subsequently, the wine’s capacity to resist oxidation, leading to premature aging”. For Moueix, then, a temperate climate (whether in the New or Old World) is key to producing wines that can age. It is, he believes, the reason why Dominus ages so well. This corner of the southern Napa Valley is relatively mild, thanks to the San Pablo Bay’s cooling influence. This slows sugar accumulation and gives the berries time for the tannins to ripen. They also don’t use irrigation, putting the vines under more stress, producing small berries with high phenolic concentration. Like Moueix and Tchelistcheff, Fourrier believes picking dates and high concentration of tannins is important – but he ties this to vine age, rather than the microclimate. “As vines get older, the size of the berries gets smaller,” explains Fourrier. It is this that gives a high skin-to-juice ratio and natural concentration. For Fourrier, this natural concentration is what gives ageing potential – rather than any actions in the winery. All are in agreement that the ageing ability of red wines comes down to the quality of the berries, rich in anthocyanins (ideally then from older vines) and picked at the right time in order to extract them at their optimal level of ripeness. But these factors affect Old World producers as much as those in the New World. Paul Roberts – Master Sommelier and COO of Colgin in Napa – makes a compelling point that New World regions in the right climate regularly produce higher concentrations of tannins than the Old World’s cooler climates. In fact, they have to pay close attention to extract less tannin during the winemaking, not more, to maintain the balance in the wine for it to age. Colgin’s mountainside IX Estate vineyard on Pritchard Hill produces berries that are, on average, 30% smaller than those grown in Pauillac. Often, Roberts notes, Napa Cabernets have higher skin-to-juice ratios than the Bordeaux First Growths – and therefore much more “anti-oxidant” tannins than their Bordeaux counterparts. According to Moueix’s belief that it is the concentration of tannins and phenolics found in the skins that protects wine from oxidation and degradation, this should mean that top Napa wines have the potential to outlive Bordeaux wines at the top level. Andy Smith, winemaker at the Russian River’s DuMOL estate, makes some of the region’s top Pinot Noir and, like Colgin, has no shortage of tannins in his grapes. Compared to Burgundy, his Pinot Noir has smaller berries, “with uncommonly thick skins that create huge natural power if you choose to extract fully”. For Smith, “this leads to a potential for powerful, deep wines with high structure for aging, and high natural acidity”. Like Colgin, it is an overabundance of tannins that is more of a concern at DuMOL. “The key is balancing the extraction,” says Smith, “to take the positive and leave behind the excessive elements from the skins.” For leading Chilean winemaker Francisco Baettig (Errazuriz, Seña and Chadwick) it is an excess of tannin, and an excess of extraction in some more ambitious wines, in the New World that has tainted its reputation for producing wines with long ageing ability. “There was an obsession for creating monster wines, with lots of extraction, trying to extract as much tannin as possible,” Baettig notes, looking back 10-15 years. Many producers in Bordeaux were doing the same at the time, but the different climates – the same elements highlighted by Roberts and Moueix for leading to higher concentrations of tannin – influence the tannin and extraction. “In Chile with higher intensity and higher levels of ripeness, the extraction happens much quicker,” he explains. This resulted in over-extraction – “wines that were rough, too tannic and did not age well”. For New World producers, better tannin management is clearly key to producing wines that can age. Producers like Tor, Colgin, DuMOL and Baettig all believe gentle extraction of tannin and reducing the wines’ contact with oxygen is fundamental for ageing. In cooler, less sunny European climates, it could be argued that in the past, due to the less easily extracted tannins, producers could get a way with being a lot less precise in their tannin management. With this in mind, Baettig notes the Old World might need to learn from the New World, how best to adapt their winemaking to the effects of climate change – and, in many ways, they already are. Vignerons are already looking back at sunny vintages such as 2005 and 2010 (with high levels of extractable tannins) and questioned some producers’ apparent over-extraction of tannins, adapting accordingly in years like 2019 and ’20. The transformation of grapes into wine is magical; the secondary transformation that can take place with maturity is possibly even more extraordinary. However, a wine with so much promise can disappoint if left too long – a frail, bitter example of its former self. It is no surprise that many drinkers choose to avoid such risks and savour wines in their more muscular youth. There is a cultural change too. DuMOL’s Smith notes that the average US consumer is not particularly interested in ageing their Pinot Noir and questions whether ageing wine is an outdated notion. In a society that favours immediate gratification, modern consumers are impatient and few have cellars in their homes. And the savoury flavours that come with maturity aren’t to everyone’s tastes. “There’s a big difference between positive evolution, plateau-ing and the gradual downward slope of oxidation,” he says. “All wine ultimately wants to become vinegar!” Because of this, some winemakers are deliberately pulling back from making wines that peak at 20 years, instead looking to produce wines that will appeal in youth and peak closer to 10 years, since that’s what their customers want. Even the most tannic red wines from the more traditional regions are these days much more approachable in their youth, something that just wasn’t possible just a few years ago (as noted by Lisa Perrotti-Brown MW). Making fine wine is an art – and especially so when it comes to building a wine for the future. Choosing the perfect moment to pick in the given climate, as well as the right style and level of extraction in the winery will determine a wine’s ageability – but only if the underlying quality of fruit is sufficiently high. With better winemaking equipment, we no longer need to wait for tannins to soften to enjoy even the best Bordeaux or Napa. Does that mean you can’t age it for a half-century? Or that it won’t improve over that period? Absolutely not. Fine wine – from both the Old World and the New – arguably has a longer drinking window than ever before – giving us ever more chances to savour it. Read more Editorial

What allows a wine to last 10, 20 or 50 years? And why is there sometimes a perception that the New World’s wines can’t do this? Gavin Smith talks to Tor Kenward, Christian Moueix, Colgin’s Paul Roberts MS and more about the key to making fine wine for the cellar – and if it’s relevant today

We talk to Tor Kenward, Christian Moueix, Colgin’s Paul Roberts MS and more about the key to making fine wine for the cellar – and if it’s relevant today

How to make wine for the ages

I am too disorganised to call myself a collector, but I often find myself thinking about the multiple meanings of collecting. I have a room full of books left unread from one year to the next, whose mute reproach I feel every time I am in their presence. I have half a dozen radios, from Marco Zanuso and Richard Sapper’s folding Brionvega TS502 to a Danish-made Beolit 707 from Bang & Olufsen, with its slide rule tuning device. I have a manual typewriter.  Most of us accumulate such random clutter. These were never possessions that were primarily about being useful – the Brionvega and the Beolit have long since been supplanted by a bluetooth speaker and a smartphone. They represent my membership of the design tribe.  The books carry other layers of meaning. My five years at university are on one shelf. The traces of the eight years I have spent writing a just-completed biography of Boris Iofan – Josef Stalin’s preferred architect – are spelled out in the titles of the books on another shelf. The typewriter was inherited from my father and it serves to remind me of childhood. The closest that I come to having a collection that a serious collector might acknowledge is in my chairs: a Rover chair that Ron Arad salvaged from a car, a Gio Ponti Superlegera, an Eames Lounger, a Harry Bertoia, George Sowden’s Palace chair from the 1983 Memphis collection and a deconstructed armchair designed by Rei Kawakubo. On a larger or smaller scale, humans develop complex relationships with their possessions that can go from the professionalism of full-blown collecting, to the casual significance of a row of junk shop finds on a mantlepiece. They can tell us a lot about ourselves. Marina Warner’s guide to the house in Hampstead, now run as a museum, in which Sigmund Freud spent the last year of his life, offers an arresting insight into the significance that collecting had for him. She describes the ranks of ancient bronze, ceramic and marble figures parading across the desk that Freud brought with him to London from Vienna where he no longer felt safe due to Nazi occupation in 1938. Certainly, they are beautiful, and mostly they are precious. Thanks to their association with Freud, even the few that have been established as 20th-century forgeries will have become valuable. Some are almost 4,000 years old and reflect the religious and political practices of the distant past. Others, such as Freud’s art deco cigar case, come less freighted with history. But as Warner says, “they were also tools of thought, the kitchen utensils of his imagination”.   The batterie de cuisine of psychoanalysis included Egyptian coffin masks from the Roman period, Chinese jade and gold brooches, Roman glass, a 2,500-year-old sphinx, sarcophagus lids, Babylonian cylinder seals and Egyptian heart scarabs, as well as a 19th-century neck rest from New Guinea, modern metal porcupines, and Balinese figures. The pieces in pride of place on his desk, placed in apparently random order, were his special favourites, a tiny fraction of his collection that had become permanent fixtures. From time to time, Freud made space for a few new acquisitions to get a look in. “A collection to which there are no new additions is really dead,” he told his biographer Ernest Jones. After a short interval, most of the new things would be moved into the glass-fronted cabinets positioned around his study, where they were placed in more organised groups than those standing on his desk. Greek sculptures went on a shelf together. A cluster of representations of the Egyptian god Horus were grouped on another.  In Freud’s lifetime, the collection was continually changing. Before his move to London, he toured Vienna’s antiquities dealers almost every week on the look-out for new finds. He was ready to exchange pieces for items he could not afford to buy, and was generous in gifting pieces to friends and pupils he thought would appreciate them. Freud also had no qualms about buying items that came on the market in questionable circumstances, in particular, from the unofficial excavations (sometime after 1906) at a Roman fort in Hungary.   Despite the important part it played in his life, Freud wrote very little about collecting. The nearest that he came to spelling out what drove his interest in fragments of ancient sculpture, was when he compared his own exploration of the unconscious minds of his patients to an archaeological excavation of an ancient city. “The psychoanalyst, like the archaeologist, must uncover layer after layer of the patient’s psyche before coming to the deepest, most valuable treasures.”  Freud was known to share his dining table with choice specimens to act as companions during a meal. “I must always have an object to love”, he confessed to his colleague and rival Carl Jung. When he was writing his book The Interpretation of Dreams in 1895, Freud spent the summer at Schloss Bellevue outside Vienna. He took a selection of what he called “my old grubby gods who take part in the works as paperweights for the manuscripts” with him.  Before Freud left Austria for England in 1938, his desk, his consulting room, and his study at Berggasse 19 were photographed by Edmund Engelman. Engelman’s 150 images helped Freud’s architect son Ernst to transpose the desk and its contents from a dark back room in a Viennese apartment to a sunlit Hampstead villa.  Like most collectors, Freud could never limit himself to a single field. Ronald Lauder the former MoMA chairman, for example, is known for the collection of Viennese modernism that forms the basis for his own museum, the Neue Galerie in New York. He also collects (in depth) in 15 other fields with little apparent connection between them. Lauder is fascinated by the work of the Japanese designer Shiro Kuramata. He has a collection of arms and armour going back to The Crusades, and another of World War Two memorabilia. He owns some of Egon Schiele’s finest works, as well as various 18th-century French artworks. Fellow collector Rolf Fehlbaum (head of Vitra) has one of the largest collections of modern chairs in the world, and gave Frank Gehry his first European commission to design a gallery for it, but he is equally fascinated by toy robots manufactured in Japan since 1937. He calls them tiny kinetic sculptures. Where possible, he acquires their original packaging too. Perhaps the best way to understand the psychology of collecting is to see it as a spectrum. At one end, it is about order and control. In a messy and uncontrollable universe, a collection offers at least a semblance of certainty. A collection of this kind is based on provenance, completeness and authenticity. An over-restored vintage Bugatti is less desirable to a collector than one in original condition.  Every previous owner, every detail of its making forms part of its record. A red Olivetti typewriter designed by Ettore Sottsass that once belonged to David Bowie was sold at Sotheby’s for US$65,000. You can buy one (that hasn’t been owned by Bowie) for US$750, which is still a lot of money for a piece of obsolete technology. Some collectors attempt to make patterns from the things that they acquire or, like jigsaw puzzlers, set out to complete a picture by locating every piece of a set. Some try to document the evolution of a species whether the subject of their interest is biscuit tins or the eggs of a particular type of bird. Some forms of collecting require the active engagement of the collector. Wildflowers need to be picked and dried quickly before they are pressed into a book. Butterfly collectors used macabre methods such as poison jars, or squeezing the thorax, to dispatch their prey without causing so much distress that they risk damaging delicate wings. At the other end of the spectrum, the accumulation of stuff by people who die alone in homes overwhelmed by stacks of ancient newspapers and tins of cat food, is a kind of sickness. It’s a condition that can overwhelm even the most celebrated of artists. In the last 17 years of his life, Andy Warhol filled a succession of cardboard boxes with a seemingly random accumulation of objects: taxi receipts, a vinyl Ramones single signed by Joey Ramone, a piece of an ancient, mummified foot, pastel-coloured corsets and a selection of metal dentures. Every time he had a full box, it was sealed and shipped off to storage in a warehouse in New Jersey. A typical box has 400 objects in it, some have as many as 1,200. Items in them include a piece of Caroline Kennedy’s wedding cake – Warhol seems to have been a regular guest at Kennedy weddings. He showed up 20 minutes after the wedding ceremony for Maria Shriver and Arnold Schwarzenegger had started, in the company of Grace Jones. He was in black leather, and wearing two wigs; she had on a huge green fur hat.   Warhol’s boxes are a collection of the uncollectable and the uncontrollable, which, thanks to the resources of the Andy Warhol Foundation, has been tamed after six years of work by a dedicated group of archivists and cataloguers. The Andy Warhol Museum in Pittsburgh has aestheticised the cardboard boxes. They sit on back-lit shelves in the museum to suggest that this is not a random collection of trash that Warhol never looked at, but, in the view of the museum, is in fact a time-based art piece, comprising at least 500,000 objects that took 30 years to complete. It presents a considerably less impressive sight than British Regency period architect Sir John Soane’s museum. The architect of the Bank of England put as much effort into adapting his Lincoln’s Inn Fields house (and subsequently the two adjoining houses) to display his Hogarth paintings, a sarcophagus and his architectural models, as he did to accumulating the collection itself. The Nobel prize-winning Turkish writer Orhan Pamuk’s novel, The Museum of Innocence is an eloquent exploration of the hoarding end of the collecting spectrum. What initially appears to be an account of a doomed love affair, quickly reveals itself as an exploration of the meaning of collecting. The story’s main protagonist Kemal starts acquiring things when his relationship with his lover Füsun is going well. When she drops an earring, he finds it and puts it to one side. As Füsun falls out of love with him, Kemal begins an increasingly desperate accumulation of objects that record their relationship. He picks up each of the cigarettes that she smokes. When she has stopped seeing him altogether, Kemal starts hanging around at her parents’ house and stealing pieces of cutlery that she might have used.  What makes Pamuk’s book particularly remarkable is that he acquired a house in Istanbul’s Beyoğlu district that had belonged to a Greek merchant in the Ottoman era, and transformed it into a physical Museum of Innocence. It is, of course, very far from innocent; everything inside it is a lovingly created fiction. The first thing that you see once you get inside, is a wall covered with 4,213 cigarette ends, each of them carefully annotated in Pamuk’s neat handwriting, with imaginary details of the time and place they were smoked. The rest of the house is full of equally carefully fabricated objects from cosmetics to movie posters that reflect Pamuk’s vision of the modernising Turkey of the 1970s. “I think getting attached to objects happens in traumatic times and love is a trauma,” Pamuk once said. “Perhaps when they are in trouble, people hoard things.”  When Pamuk gave me a tour of his museum, he told me about meeting Warhol’s archivist, and expressed his reservations about the significance of the boxes in Pittsburgh. “Hoarding objects reaches the level of collecting only when there is a story that unites them,” he said. But that is a novelist criticising another, less narrative art form. While Freud’s desk in Hampstead was always useable, if overcrowded, the desk in fashion designer Paul Smith’s office in Covent Garden is completely overwhelmed with a snowdrift of collected objects that sweeps over an office chair, down onto the floor, and back up to the shelves that line every wall. There are stacks of books and magazines, cameras and mountains of vintage cycling jerseys. There is an i-Mac computer, a gift from Jony Ive that Smith has never used. Computers aren’t Smith’s thing. In any case, it’s too late now, short of purging half the contents of the room: there is no way to get near it. There are toy tin cars, collections of bottles from Moroccan markets, a pink bicycle and a lot of rabbits. “I once said in an interview that seeing a rabbit brings me luck, and they haven’t stopped pouring in ever since,” explains Smith. Collecting began, as did so many things in Smith’s career, with his early enthusiasm for cycling. Growing up in Nottingham in the 1950s, there was a newsagent which occasionally had a copy of L’Equipe, which would portray the heroes of the Tour de France in their yellow jerseys in colour on the cover, but in sepia inside. He bought the magazine, fascinated by the images, even if he couldn’t read it. “I can remember once saying, ‘I really like Jacques Anquetil’ to my father, which baffled him, since none of our family had ever been abroad. I saved my pocket money so that I could upgrade the gears on my bike from Simplex to Campagnolo. The box it came in was as important to me as the gear itself.”  What attracted Smith to the Campagnolo box, along with stamps and matchboxes which he has in large numbers – not just in his office but at his Nottingham HQ where he has an archivist trying to make sense of it all – is the way that designers can say so much in such a tiny space. He showed me a Japanese book of matches produced for a Tokyo nightclub in the 1970s. “It so clearly says it’s ‘contemporary’. You can hear the jazz already.”  Despite the huge assortment of assembled objects, Smith is reluctant to describe himself as a collector. “I just have a large quantity of the same things,” he says, matter of factly. “In my head, a collector is someone who selects an item or a subject. They collect them because they know a lot about them. Maybe I have a little knowledge about cycling jerseys.  In the early 1980s, on my first trips to Japan and India, I just got a bit carried away. I bought lots of Japanese furniture. In India, for some reason, I bought 15 wardrobes, and a piece of furniture that doubled as a staircase with drawers.” Smith had them all sent home on the Trans-Siberian Express.  He suggests that his is a collection that has found him. “Things collect me,” he says. “For some reason I started to be sent things, and they still keep coming.” There is an individual who regularly sends Smith artefacts that come unwrapped but covered in postage stamps. Others send him letters, toys, books and even ancient packets of razor blades. One visitor took careful photographs of his office, and later sent him a precisely detailed model of his office, complete with its chaotic contents. Smith’s London home, where he lives with his wife Pauline, is much calmer. “The house is hers. I do have one room for my stuff, but it’s mostly at the office that I get to look at things.” In 1996, patron of the arts and barrister Jill Ritblat gave the V&A Museum the largest single donation of clothes in its history, more than 1,000 items. There are ski outfits in postmodern pastel shades from the 1980s, and challenging Japanese experiments from Yohji Yamamoto and Issey Miyake, as well as couture from Dior and Saint Laurent. There is work by Alexander McQueen, Biba, Mary Quant, and Christian Lacroix, Emanuel Ungaro and Victor Edelstein, and an evening outfit produced by a dressmaker based on an idea of Ritblat’s own design.  The early days of British fashion from the 1960s are represented by Foale and Tuffin, and Zandra Rhodes, and from the 1980s by Margaret Howell and Katharine Hamnett. There is tailoring from Tommy Nutter and work by Giorgio Armani. It is by no means a complete account of contemporary fashion, but it is certainly extensive, and like the personal wardrobe that it is, combines some very special pieces made for family occasions, with more everyday wear. The connecting thread of Ritblat’s collection is Ritblat herself. These were all pieces that she had bought to wear. They were not chosen like stamps, or old masters, or celadon vases to make a self-conscious collection, but were the result of a continuing sequence of choices over time. Taken together they are a reflection of her life as an English woman of a certain background, at a particular time in the country’s history. “I never saw it as a collection, it was more like my diary, though I have never had time to write a diary. Each piece brings back memories of when I wore it,” says Ritblat. She made her first donation to the V&A at the end of 1996, but kept back the things that she wanted to be able to go on using, and they formed the core of a donation to the Design Museum of another 400 items in 2013. Ritblat is ambivalent about fashion. As a child she was somewhat self-conscious about being dressed by her mother, who had studied fashion herself. She was relieved to be able to assume the camouflage of the complex uniform rituals of an English public school for girls in the 1950s. “I loved my school uniform at Roedean; we were expected to change our clothes four times a day, as chic as anything. Scratchy afternoon dresses, regulation school loafers, very nice blazers and pleated skirts.” As a student barrister, she found herself adopting the formal uniform of the legal profession, but then as a married woman began to build a wardrobe that reflected the life that she was leading. Later, when she was making her own choices, she was early to discover Miuccia Prada. “What you pick out is based on whether it suits you and on the zeitgeist,” she explains. Smith, Heseltine and Ritblat represent three very different approaches to collecting. For Smith, the unruly mountain of things in his office, is, like the collection on Sigmund Freud’s desk, part of the tools of his imagination, a source of imagery and ideas for his work as a designer. It’s also a means of establishing his personality. Heseltine’s garden is an investment of time, resources and creativity in the remaking of a place that speaks to the future using living organisms that will outlive us all. Ritblat’s clothes are a record of the full life of an individual. All of these collections provide insights into unique people, their lives and times. In their different ways all three reflect on the nature of collecting, and its ability to be a creative activity in itself. In a world in which technology threatens to abolish the material world altogether, objects have not lost their allure. Their physical condition marks the passing of time in ways that pixels and code cannot do. Collecting is the means all of us have to create histories of our times, and even more, of ourselves. This article was originally published in FONDATA, Issue Two. 

In order to explore the mindset of the collector, Deyan Sudjic shines a light on the collected objects of Sigmund Freud and Andy Warhol, and speaks to three British collectors to better understand what it is that makes collecting such a vital part of the human experience.

Exploring the mindset of the collector and why the act is a vital part of the human experience, with a focus on Sigmund Freud and Andy Warhol

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