There are very few people who can write about wine and sell it so well. Undoubtedly, this Englishman is one of them. The author of ‘Who’s Afraid of Romanée-Conti’, who also edits the magazine ‘Nobel Rot’ and co-owns three London restaurants, a number of wine cellars and a wine import company, will be at Athenaeum on 14 November for a book signing. In the meantime, by way of introduction, he answers a few questions…
How did you go from a record company to wine?
From 2006 to 2009 I was Managing Director of Island Records on Kensington High St, and my pal Nobby used to manage the wine shop a few doors down. Roberson Wine had an eclectic selection, stocking everything from the most exciting ‘natural’ producers to old vintages of venerable chateaux and domaines of Bordeaux and Burgundy. Nobby and his wife lodged in our house for a few weeks when they were moving home and paid rent in wine. Bottles like Ridge Lytton Springs, then later Rayas Pignan, Freddie Mugnier Chambolle-Musigny ‘Les Fuées’ and Overnoy Poulsard lit the flame of my vinous infatuation, and when he employed a young guy called Mark Andrew I found a like-minded drinking buddy to explore wine culture with – and my future business partner. Mark organised vertical tastings of cult domaines like Chave, Coche-Dury, and Granges des Pères in the shop basement and we became great friends. We published the first issue of ‘Noble Rot’ magazine in early 2013 to write about wine contextualised with food and popular culture – and a long missing sense of humour.
Would you compare music to wine? How?
One question I sometimes get asked about my new career in wine is whether I miss working in music. But because the two have much in common I haven’t missed it for a minute. To me, drinking a great wine can, like hearing a great song, start a movie playing in my head. And through using similar strategies to those I used to find artists to sign for Island and Parlophone Records to find vignerons to represent for our import company Keeling Andrew, I feel like I never left music at all.
Long before this book, as you wrote in its introduction, ‘Noble Rot’ was born out of a thirst for emotions rather than knowledge…
I love learning about wine, and ‘Who’s Afraid of Romanée-Conti?’ offers many unique insights into brilliant producers and regions. But if I’ve learnt anything, it’s that the more you delve into the mysterious puzzle of wine, the more you must accept the absence of certainty — just as in our everyday lives. The poet John Keats referred to something he called ‘negative capability’, or taking pleasure from inspirational experiences without having to find facts to explain them. For example, do you need to understand the science of what causes a sunset to wonder at its beauty? Likewise, this book is about how great wine can make you feel, rather than constantly trying to quantify and measure something so intrinsically unknowable.
However, again in the introduction to the book, you wrote that it’s necessary to be prepared to listen/appreciate wines: what do you mean?
Most of my favourite wines aren’t loud, so you have to be prepared to listen. Rather than offering anything ‘more’ or ‘extra’ than other wines, their magic lies in their completeness and harmony. Having drunk many vintages of Romanée-Conti at the domaine for a Richard Olney retrospective, which I describe about in the book, I found myself wondering how many billionaires had bought a bottle and been left wondering what the fuss is about. There’s no point in opening such a deep, subtle and often restrained wine unless you are prepared to listen carefully. On the other hand, you can enjoy a simple Vinho Verde with little thought.
Why do you prefer ‘living wines’?
I champion ‘living wines’, made in small quantities by obsessive dreamers, over the billions of industrially manufactured dead one out there. Living wines are full of vitality because they’ve not been aggressively processed and have been allowed to become what they are. Industrial wines are a series of compromises prioritising profits, as sterile as a pint of UHT milk. Like humans, living wines are capable of providing exhilarating highs — but also of having off days, or even years. Some start clumsily and blossom decades later. Others burn brightly then quickly fade away. That living wines reflect the mysterious nature of our own existence is part of why I love them so much.
How did the idea for this book come about?
Most people are so daunted by fine wine that they give up on ever knowing anything about it, so I wanted to help give them a shortcut to the really good stuff – from cheap house wines to the most fabled wine in the world, and everything in between. I wanted the book to be beautiful, allowing people to meet the winemakers and places that most will never get to visit, while telling the stories of what makes them so special. The photographer that I collaborated with, Ben McMahon, and designers Matt Willey and Jonny Sikov at Pentagram New York, are among the best on the planet. I’m proud of how this book looks and feels.
You open this book with Alsace and its Riesling wines. Jean-Louis Trapet recently told us of his love for Riesling. So, is the same for you?
I love Riesling, but I probably drink much more Chardonnay and Chenin Blanc. I know some wine lovers cite Riesling as the best white grape on the planet, something which Klaus Peter Keller’s wines make a very good case for. But for me a great Chablis or Meursault can be unrivalled.
Burgundy is well represented here: how do you see this vineyard and its winemakers today?
Burgundy is changing, but when it’s at its best nothing else compares. Secondary market price-hikes during lockdown threatened to make top end Burgundy unaffordable for most people, so it’s nice to see some re-corrections bringing them down. The only thing I don’t like about fine wine in general is often high price barriers to entry, so its heartening to see a host of growers like Camille Thiriet, Les Horées and David Croix making such a success of less celebrated terroirs.
The wines of the New World, on the other hand, are absent from this book: why this choice?
I live in London, and so the great European vineyard regions are easily accessible. I love many Californian, South African and Australian wines, but with our restaurants, shops, import business, and magazine – as well as most importantly having a family – I haven’t had the time needed to explore them yet.
And England: many are promising a bright future for its vineyards. What do you think, in all objectivity of course…?
English sparkling wine has come a long way in a short space of time, and there are now many exciting growers like Langham, Breaky Bottom and Hugo. But I’ve yet to drink any still table wines that would keep top French vignerons awake at night. That could be because many of France’s vineyards have been established for centuries, whereas England’s are relatively new. Perhaps our own Montrachet is located under Sainsbury’s car park in Brighton? But once we find the right sites the potential is huge.