An introduction

And whatever the opposite of a mission statement is

Hello there! Welcome to whatever this is. I’m Niall and I’m right in the middle of the process of fleeing a career in tech to the wine industry, moving from stagnant comfort to the absolute bottom of a very complicated, intimidating and exciting ladder. I’m in a strange mental place, at a number of inflection points, and for some reason I feel a shamelessly self-indulgent desire to try and write about my experiences. Maybe it’s just a therapy-flavoured way of continuing to create space to work through everything that’s happening to me constructively. Or maybe I just want to write about nice wine?! Only time will tell really. 

I don’t know exactly what this will end up encompassing – probably reviews, musings, divers other interests inc. music, cats, etc – but I firmly believe that no matter how buttoned-up and in control you might feel, doing anything remotely creative will invariably reveal a load of stuff about yourself you didn’t really know you were revealing. It’s possible only in retrospect will I see what any of this effort actually represents for me. It’s also possible I’ll sack it off very quickly, but I blessedly find myself in the early optimistic stages. I’d rather believe in some unchained vision of my debonair older self with a sideline in writing wine-themed guff for side bunce. It’s certainly not going to happen unless I develop a bit of a personal style. 

As someone who has luxuriated complacently as a sort of accidental expert in my career so far, I’m very conscious that I’m voluntarily crashing into an environment in which I’m guaranteed for years to feel like a proper dunce. At any rate, I will be by far the least experienced and knowledgeable person at the very small company I’ll be joining in June. Doing the WSET Level 3 may have earned me a rep amongst friends and family as a wine buff, but it now feels like I’m bringing a step-ladder to the north face of K2. Can I document my journey of discovery in an interesting or mildly useful way? No idea! Am I really hamming up my depiction of my current ignorance as a defence mechanism that may not actually result in useful humility in practice? Almost certainly!!

I know that I’m never going to know the most about wine, and that comparing myself to the hundreds of people I’ll inevitably meet who really do know much more than me is where madness lies. But most people aren’t on that elite level; by trying to actually iron out my own perspective, perhaps I’ll find something that I’m uniquely placed to communicate. No worries if not!!

So what is my perspective right now? What do I think about wine, at least? 

I’m always looking for something that combines the transparency and energy of low-intervention techniques with finesse and attention to detail: the approach that resonates most with me is, to quote Jean-Louis Dutraive, “minimum intervention; maximum surveillance”. I want everything to feel like it’s in its right place, even if the right place for that particular wine is quite extreme or confronting (e.g. is it a GOOD cloudy orange tannin bomb?). The luxury-industrial complex is only interesting to me when it overlaps with that – or, to be completely honest, when it really is just too nice to argue with. 

On the other fringes, I really feel that winemakers and importers who try to pass off overwhelming faults as a reflection of an honest, down-to-earth style have missed the point; the progenitors of the natural wine movement were dedicated to proving that low-intervention wine could be created without tasting like mouse and vinegar. Doing it well is an art and a craft (and their effing métier). I’ve never had a faulty Lapierre and hopefully I never will. In summary, I believe in pragmatism, and I really like the Noble Rot wine list. 

That being said, my ire is more typically directed at the opposite side of the industry: the world domination of dull wines made with no respect for nature, no respect for the consumer drinking whatever additives the producers haven’t had to declare. If you ever needed any indication of the influence and lucre of corporate booze, consider that if you were to somehow make a wine below 1.2% ABV, its ingredients would need to be listed on the packaging. When it goes a hair above that into actually being alcoholic, you can get away with (almost) anything. If you pay below a certain amount for a bottle of wine, someone somewhere is getting screwed: the growers, the environment, possibly you. Supermarkets and mainstream wine suppliers have a vested interest in being pathologically dishonest about this. Drink less wine, drink better wine!

To hastily counteract the general tone of grouchiness I seem to be slipping into: wine is amazing! It’s a bottomless pit of pure, mindful pleasure, and more than any other drink it’s something which genuinely does bring people together. There’s no other drink which you habitually share from the same bottle, round the same table, in the same amounts, at the same time. No one is out here serving dinner parties with a pitcher of beer, or unadulterated spirits. (And cocktails are cheating.) Even knowing nothing about it, anyone can engage with what’s in front of them and get something out of it, even if they come to a completely different conclusion - in fact, especially if they do. 

And if you’re wired like me (and similarly squeamish about spicier intoxicants), it’s hard to imagine any substance competing with the deep, restorative satisfaction of a good Champagne, or an electric Mosel Riesling, or a profound red Burgundy; or indeed, finding the better value alternatives that still scratch the same itches. It’s also hard not to marvel at that simple question when something really does blow your mind: how is this just fermented grape juice?

Despite everything, so much of the answer to that question is as yet beyond my ken, and possibly always will be. The magic of it lies in surrendering to the complexity of it, the intuition and craft of the growers and winemakers, the brutal grace and toll of nature, the constant change of culture and climate. All of this, bottled, and in the best wines evident with every sip. And it gets you drunk!

I have no idea what I’m going to learn by making this world my life; I have no idea how my perspective will develop. Hopefully I can hold onto the personal and the honest, in the face of 100-point objectivity, suffocating oceans of facts, and the base desire to find some way to fit in. Either way, you’re very welcome to follow me on this journey.