Nina Caplan is the 2014 Fortnum & Mason Drink Writer of the Year and 2014 Louis Roederer International Wine Columnist of the Year for her columns on drink in the New Statesman. She tweets as @NinaCaplan.
Not that the concept of terroir refers purely to soil. It is sunshine, rainfall, maybe even air quality: the ineffable difference between one place and another.
The high-altitude vineyards of Italy’s largest island produce nectar for the gods, Greek or Roman.
Wine is our compensation: the soft landing as we tumble on to the wrong side of 30.
This Canadian version of an old standard is a good substitute for dinner.
We English drinkers need no longer sip from the bitter amphora of agricultural inadequacy: we can have our wine and everyone else’s, too.
Dry, cloudy and still, sidra is the drink of the Celts.
The vineyards still occasionally throw up fossils of dinosaurs that were checking out the local flora and fauna 185 million years ago.
Cowboys may have been the architects of the American myth but a cowboy without his shot of whiskey would scarce merit his gun.
In wine, the tendrils of power spread like well-nourished vines, wrapping around some surprising edifices.
I’ve nothing against celebrated wines: enormous care and attention goes into their creation. Still, a little imagination is a heavenly thing.
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