The secret to choosing the perfect bottle of wine
Who is not susceptible to a label whose design, like a book jacket, speaks to us and also looks professional enough to make us feel the producer knows what he or she is doing? – OLA O SMIT
Over the years I’ve had conversations with all sorts of people about the wine they love to drink, but one person in particular sticks in the memory: Terry Waite. The humanitarian and former hostage unrepentantly told me he always bought the cheapest bottle of red he could find, a search he appeared to have honed to an art form, gleefully competing with himself to see how low he could get.
I remember thinking as he talked: whoever he’s sharing these bottles with might not agree but it’s one way to make a tricky decision easier. The phrase “wall of wine” was coined long ago to describe the impenetrable feel of a display of bottles in a shop. Because where do you start? Without pulling the cork or unscrewing the cap, it’s impossible to know which of them are any good.
I feel just as hopeless as anyone else if given a list of bottles I’ve never tried: the choice becomes an exercise in damage (and in my case damage to reputation) limitation. And yes, choosing wine is a first world problem but we mind, of course we mind, because the penalty for getting it wrong is a dismal evening ploughing through 750mls of the anti-joy.
Some solve the problem by heading straight to the supermarket promotion stickers. Others pick a grape they usually like and hope for the best. I’ve met those who choose by price, competition medal stickers or alcoholic strength. Who is not susceptible to a label whose design, like a book jacket, speaks to us and also looks professional enough to make us feel the producer knows what he or she is doing?
Many of us feel overwhelmed when faced with the so-called ‘wall of wine’ in a supermarket – Getty
There have been attempts to help. In 2013, Morrisons tried rearranging the entire wine department so that bottles were displayed by style – “intense”, “fresh”, “smooth” – instead of by country to make it easier to navigate. “We did a lot of research and 10,000 people told us what we already knew: that what they loved about wine was the mystery, but that the mystery was also terrifying,” Morrisons told me at the time. Alas, “fresh” proved just as mystifying to shoppers as “France”. Morrisons shelves are now back to a more traditional layout.
For online retailers, star ratings are now common. Another tool is the simple question, “Would you buy this again?” The jury is out on how informative these measures can be. It is one thing to consult a star rating if making a practical purchase, such as window insulation tape. But imagine applying this to a scenario in which the shopper had no prior knowledge of what cream cheese and blue cheese might taste like.
Time and again, with wine, we come back to the personal. A Pulse survey carried out this month found that more than half (55 per cent) of us take recommendations from people we know. It makes sense and it’s why the likes of Vivino and Naked have built websites and apps that allow you to follow the recommendations of other customers it deems to have similar tastes to you.
As a wine writer I know that part of my job is to be objective. I taste thousands of wines every year and when I swirl and spit I am not just interrogating that wine but also benchmarking it against others I have tasted. But I would never claim – or want – to be a tasting machine. I know that my personal taste will always come through. And I hope that this can be another form of sign-posting for those who read me often.
“What I really want is to have you in my pocket when I’m standing in Waitrose,” said a friend when she called me to ask what to buy to drink with dinner. “But you’ve just read my top 50 supermarket wines, they’re all in that,” I said. “Ah yes, but I thought there might be a bottle you’d recommended last week or last month and couldn’t put in again,” came the response.
‘Wine is a convivial subject; it is meant to be shared’ – Getty
Well, I’m working on the app that shrinks me to pocket size, but I do realise that what many wine drinkers want from their advice is convenience: the best recommendations right now for a particular shop. That’s why I’m particularly proud of the Supermarket Picks section in the new Telegraph Wine Cellar, which launches this week. These are “living lists” of the best seasonal wine buys and promotions in the major supermarkets, regularly updated by Susy Atkins and me.
With our colleague Hamish Anderson, we have also put our names to some of the wines that TWC is actually selling, applying editorial criteria to our recommendations. But what I’m looking forward to most of all with the wine club is getting to know many of you even better, through events and conversations.
Wine is a convivial subject; it is meant to be shared. I have a wine friend with whom I regularly message about the latest good £5 or £7 bottle one of us has found. I’m always pleased when he agrees with my finds because I rate his taste. Likewise, if he recommends a bottle that I’ve passed over in a big tasting I go back and have another look. While tasting wine with Hamish and Susy for TWC has been so much fun because learning about each other’s preferences also illuminates the wine, bringing it more to life.
With wine, context is important too. I hosted a dinner at the Cheltenham Literature Festival earlier this month and when somebody asked what wine goes well with curry everyone laughed at my answer: Mateus Rosé. But I hope a few of those in the room might be inspired to try it because it really does work. Sir Cliff Richard once told me he loved Mateus Rosé too, and shared the following words of wisdom: “Wine is subjective, like an art form. You’ve got to find the one you like.” The one you like? I hope that, together, we can find a few more than that.
Victoria Moore is The Telegraph’s Wine Correspondent; Instagram: how_to_drink; her book ‘The Wine Dine Dictionary’ is a Fortnum & Mason Drink Book of the Year