It is arbitrariness time. When you see a wine glorified on social media you are meant to feel a bat squeak of envy. Look what they are drinking and look who they are drinking with. And where. What you don’t ask is whether the wines consumed were any good? All very well to post a photo of a super-cuveé Provençale rosé as you sit outside picnicking, but was the wine simply a bystander in the enchantment of sun, fun and friends, and actually pretty damn ordinary?

The specially deserving bottles get their day in the sun when I take them to the balcony. It is my attempt to immortalise the moment with the light from the setting sun beaming through the bottle and illuminating the adjacent liquid-filled glass.

Most of the times I open a bottle at home, I am just curious to know what it tastes like, so if anyone asks me I can truthfully recommend it (or not). Although I will always drink with food, it is not the food I am thinking about. I barely consider matching, and if it happens, then it is serendipitous rather than by design.

The specially deserving bottles get their day in the sun when I take them to the balcony. It is my attempt to immortalise the moment with the light from the setting sun beaming through the bottle and illuminating the adjacent liquid-filled glass. In retrospect, this setting up the photo–and the resultant photo itself–acts as an aide-memoire when I wish to recall how I felt about the wine in question.

Secretly, I also belong to the not-so-secret listifarian tendency. Although we may pretend to be above the idea of ranking one wine above another, and doing “best of” lists, we cannot avoid sporting our preferences.  And here I am! Certain wines will always speak to us more clearly than others and it is natural to want to validate the experience in some way. What we do is to create a diary of our best wine experiences and rank them from top to bottom – or the other way round.

Top 10!

The following hit the right nerve at the time (in no particular order):

2017 Chignin Bergeron Grand Orgue, Louis Magnin

The grapes for this selection come from two parcels of the oldest vines of the estate. Stylistically, the “Grande Orgue” is ripe and rich without giving up the discipline that makes these wines of the Savoie so compelling. The aromas speak of wild flowers and honeysuckle and warm apricot while the palate is marked by notes of anise preceding a penetrating finish of bristling minerality. The Magnin Arbin Mondeuse also deserves a mention for its penetrating dark fruit character.

Why I loved this: A wine that hit a sweet spot in my palate. I love freshness in wines that describe a clean line across the tongue but increasingly am coming back to more textural (leesy) whites that you can roll over the “width” of the palate and dive into their golden-fleshed orchard fruit and rich spice.

2021 Jean-Claude Lapalu Feu Follet, Haute-Savoie (at Elliott’s for lunch)

In February, we gathered as many samples of wines made from the Gringet grape. Many versions were from the 2021 vintage, the year after Dominique Belluard, doyen of the variety, passed away. Jean-Francois Ganevat’s Le Feu and Les Vins de Belema Imago were the closest in style, but Lapalu’s Feu Follet was beautifully fluid and almost evanescent in the best sense.

Why I loved this: The wine felt like it was hewn out of limestone scree, the calling card of this part of the Haute-Savoie. Also, blessed to taste this snapshot of history.

2021 Domaine des Miroirs Ja Do, Jura (at Brawn for dinner)

This rare blend of Ploussard & Trousseau was unlike any red wine I have tried. Turbid and savoury with almost Syrah-like smokiness.

Why I loved this: It’s unusual to taste a wine that surprises one and flips one’s preconceptions. I should know that the Miroirs wines conform to no rules other than their own.

2020 Arbois Pupillin Rouge Overnoy, Jura (at Mountain for lunch)

Captivating red, the kind that arrests your conversation around the table whilst you sup its aromatic charms. Ploussard at its purest, and on the day, most eloquent.

Why I loved this: Less can be more, a wine of essence and linear edge. As we drank the wine, we just felt happy.

2023 Tsolikouri Lechkhumi Igavi, Georgia

Sparkling purity where altitude and limestone terroir align to give the wine its crunchy zing.

Why I loved this: Like shoving minerals in one’s mouth. Sometimes you feel like sucking on liquidised shells and rocks.

2024 La Luna Blanc Bruno Duchene, Cote Vermeille

Bruno Duchene’s IGP Côte Vermeille La Luna Blanc. Côte Merveille, more like! To exploit my own favourite wine cliché, this blend of Xarel.lo, Grenache Gris & Grenache Blanc tastes like “the Muscadet of the south”, by which I mean a wine that seems to have soaked up the salt air of the sea whilst simultaneously preserving the medicinal/herbal notes of the scrubland. My impression of the wine, of course. 

Why I loved this: Wine has this undeniable capacity to transport you to places that you have never physically been but exist in your fond imagination. 

2024 Cancelli Rosato, Iole Rabasco, Abruzzo

It’s Montepulciano. It is almost red in colour and packed with fruit. It is natural and gorgeous.

Why I loved this: It is a natural rosé, no compromises. Feelgood colour. Delicious spiced red cherry and plum flavours. A balcony wine earning its sunset background.

2023 Domaine Pierre Frick Chasselas sans soufre, Alsace

Frick’s wines are a beautiful mystery. The layers of this wine show the best of natural wine. Words cannot do justice to this.

Why I loved this: Occasionally, I am worried about faults, so I look for them and don’t see the wine in front of me. As soon as this coated my mouth, I experienced the wine as something utterly wholesome and completely alive.

2023 Alice & Olivier De Moor Bourgogne Aligoté

The ever so ‘umble Aligoté performs eloquently in the skilled hands of the De Moors. The vineyards are set up for maximum quality, the pruning is excellent, the farming is organic, the yields are low, and the winemaking is precise.  Fluidity mingles with texture – coolness with warmth, subtlety with length. 

Why I loved this: I am a sucker for the underdog grape. Aligoté is now gaining a reputation, and this particular wine has never disappointed.

2023 Hermitage Blanc, Dard & Ribo, N Rhone (at Noble Rot Soho)

My wine of the first six months. Sharing this bottle with nine fellow wine experts and drinkers, I only had a sliverette in my glass, but oh, how I savoured every molecule as a result. The fruit and spice ruffle over the tongue like a gentle tide. I was enveloped for an instant.

Why I loved this: The moment that we collectively put the wine in our mouths and sighed with intense satisfaction. Not because it was obviously gratifying, but it was beautifully reserved, an essay in quiet harmony.

2021 A Demua, Cascina degli Ulivi, Piemonte

Huge wine with gorgeous bronze colour, a field blend from a centenarian vineyard planted to local Piedmontese grapes: Bosco, Verdea, Timorasso, Chasselas…

Why I loved this: Are you ever predisposed to admire a wine before you have even tasted it? We have not had this Bellotti wine in stock for years, so I was eager to get to grips, at the same time fearful of disappointment. As with the Chasselas from Jean-Pierre Frick (see above), this wine is dense with mouthfeel. The lengthy skin-maceration gives a further dimension. I didn’t even notice the 14% abv.