If I Wasn’t a Sommelier and Knew Nothing About Wine, These Are the Wines I Would Buy

Because it’s almost impossible to go wrong

There is a lot of terrible wine out there.

Thanks to clever marketing, misinformation and general BS, when it comes to buying wine, it’s very easy to go very wrong.

How do you know if a wine is going to be good? How can you reduce your chances of crying whilst pouring your bottle down the drain?

Whilst I would normally tell you to choose your wine store carefully or ask someone you trust for recommendations, there are also some wine regions where it is almost impossible to go wrong.

Regions where even the cheapest examples are perfectly drinkable, if not rather good.

Regions where if you’re prepared to spend a little more than the very lowest of the low, you’re in potentially mind-blowing territory.

If I knew nothing about wine, these are the regions I would buy from.

Because no one wants to pour money down the drain.

Pass the Rioja, please

The idea that one of the most famous wine regions in the world also has an incredible price vs. quality ratio is completely bonkers.

It’s not like you can still spend $5 on a bottle of wine from Burgundy and call it drinkable. Even $20 doesn’t get you far there.

But Rioja is a special case. There is little from the region that is completely undrinkable.

Which means you’re less likely to get stung.

Most people know about Rioja’s big, oaky styles of wine.

But there is another red wine from Rioja. One that pre-dates the oaky styles we consider classically Riojana today.

The carbonically macerated red.

I won’t go into the technicalities of what carbonic maceration means except to say it’s the winemaking method made famous by use in Beaujolais. They tend to be lighter, very bright and very fruity.

They may be unlike what you think of as classic Rioja but they are freaking delicious.

And they are ridiculously cheap.

When I lived in the region, I was picking up small producer, organically grown, good quality carbonically macerated red wines for five to seven bucks. I can’t think of any other region in the world where it would be possible to have such quality so cheap.

This isn’t a “they keep it all for themselves” deal either. You can pick up carbonically macerated red Riojas on the export market. I frequently do.

Look for Maceratión Carbonica on the label.

The great thing about Rioja is that both the oaky styles and the fruity carbonic maceration styles all incredible value. Arguably too cheap.

This will probably change. Suppressed grape prices and expensive oak barrels are not the region’s friend. Riojana winemakers often tell me how much they financially struggle.

But carbonic maceration is a cheaper, easier style of wine to produce which means it is likely to remain cheaper, even if oaked Riojas rise in price.

In other words, carbonically macerated Rioja is a win for both the winemakers and for you.

“I ate his liver with a nice Chianti (Classico)”

When it comes to wine, Italy can be very naughty.

It has a penchant for upping the production of popular wine regions by expanding the territory allowed to call itself *insert wine region here.*

They did it with Prosecco. And they did it with Chianti.

The problem is, expansion tends to go hand in hand with unscrupulous winemakers to making low quality wine.

Thankfully when Chianti expanded, the best quality producers of the time formed a consortium called Chianti Classico.

And it’s an entirely different beast to Chianti.

Chianti Classico wines here have to be made with at least 80% Sangiovese grapes (in Chianti it’s 70%) which is the quality grape of the region. The Classico vineyards sit at a higher altitude (the holy grail in warm climates) and have different — arguably better — soils more suited for Sangiovese than Chianti.

In other words, Chianti Classico is a safeword for better quality wine.

That’s not to say Chianti itself doesn’t make some great wine — it does. But it’s a region where you’re playing Russian Roulette with quality.

Chianti Classico is another matter.

So much so, I’m convinced that when Hannibal Lecter said he ate his liver with a nice Chianti, he probably meant Chianti Classico.

Afer all, he was a smart cannibal.

Sherry makes my heart go boom, boom, boom

Sherry makes me both very sad and very happy.

Sad because no know knows how good the wine is, which is terrible for the region. Sad because people still think Sherry is a sweet wine only drunk by grandmothers at Christmas.

But happy — in the most selfish way possible — because that keeps the price insultingly low.

It’s also possibly the only wine region in the world I would dare to comment there’s no such thing as bad Sherry.

This in part is because my favourite styles — the achingly dry Fino and Amontillado — by law have to spend at least two years ageing under a thin veil of yeast called flor. This ageing process gives a specific flavour to all Sherries aged this way — even the bottom-shelf ones.

Sherry also uses what is known as a solera system, where barrels are topped up with wine reserved from the year before, which was topped up with wine from the year before, and so on.

These soleras can be hundreds of years old which means even the cheapest bottles may contain a tiny portion of incredibly old wine.

Soleras give Sherry complexity that few other wines match.

In other words, no Sherry is that bad.

Don’t get me wrong, I’d suggest you spend a little more than the cheapest available bottle. The region will thank you for it because it truly is on its knees.

Your taste buds will thank you too.

But you don’t have to spend a lot. And for that, I will be forever grateful.

Champagne beyond big brands

Grower Champagne is the name used for small Champagne producers who grow their own fruit and make Champagne in their own wineries.

They are different from both the big brands that dominate the region and the large cooperatives responsible for much of the “cheap” Champagne on liquor store shelves.

Grower Champagne is where all the good quality Champagne lies. I have never had a big name Champagne — even at the highest end — that comes close to the highs of grower Champagne.

This is a hill I will die on.

But there is a caveat.

You can go wrong. There are small growers making mediocre Champagne.

But — and it’s a BIG but — I’ve yet to have a grower Champagne that I think is truly terrible.

I wish I could say the same for some of the big names.

So even if cheap grower Champagne is not always great, it’s always better.

And if you buy a grower Champagne at the same price as an entry-level big name, you’re in for a treat. Give me $40 and I’ll give you multiple Champagne growers that will blow your mind.

Here’s a tip. If you don’t know if a Champagne brand is a grower Champagne or a big brand (or cooperative) in disguise, look for the name Vigneron Independant.

Vigneron Independant is an association of French winemakers who are often small and proudly independent. It won’t be on all grower Champagnes but it’s a good place to start.

In fact this goes for all French wine. When it comes to choosing wine I don’t know, Vigneron Independant has saved my ass more times than I care to count.

Sparkling wine formerly known as Cava

I’ve written before about my love for quality Cava. It exists even though the majority of bulk Cava is poor quality, sweet, sparkly fermented grape juice.

The best Cava producers were unhappy with being bundled in with bottom-end wines, so they broke away from the Cava name and formed their own association called Corpinnat.

Corpinnat sparkling wine has to adhere to strict quality guidelines. All fruit must be organic. The wine must be aged for a long time— far longer than the mandated nine months of traditional Cava. And none of them go in for the sweet styles of bulk Cava.

All of which means if you see Corpinnat on a bottle of wine, it’s going to be good. Often incredible.

There are 11 producers in the Corpinnat Association. If you ever see any of them I suggest you buy, buy, buy.

You say rosé, I say rosado

When I visit Spanish tapas bars but don’t know (or trust) any of the wines on the menu, I have a secret trick.

I drink Spanish rosés, locally known as rosados.

Because I’ve yet to taste a completely undrinkable one.

Traditional Spanish rosados are usually a deep or hot pink colour and, contrary to popular belief about dark rosés, are completely dry.

The worst they’ll be is a little bit boring. Perhaps a bit same-y.

But disgusting? Undrinkable? Never.

In fact, they’re often rather joyful and for that, you’ll often find me drinking them. Even outside of Spanish tapas bars.

Buying wine is a bet. Whenever you buy a bottle, you’re betting the cost of it that you will have a pleasant experience.

Wine is so unpredictable — and so expensive — that you want your betting odds to be as high as possible. At least in these wine regions, the chance of buying a truly terrible wine is low.

In fact, they’re pretty much a sure bet — even at the cheap end — which is why you’ll always find them in my wine rack.

They should be in yours too.

Trust me. I’m a Sommelier.

Sign up to my new remote wine consulting service SommAnywhere. You tell me what you like to drink and where you live, I’ll send you a list of the best places local-to-you and online stores, and what you should buy from each of them. Book the service here

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