My Top 10 Wines of 2024
And a look back at the first six months of Substack
This time last year, I’d never even heard of Substack. It wasn’t until May 2024 that a friend forwarded me a Substack newsletter from a fashion writer she follows with a note: “Maybe some nice passive income for your wine biz?” Ha! The irony. Not only did she get me hooked on something that makes me no income at all; but I spend hour upon hour every week, actively researching, writing and promoting this damned thing.
And yet.
In a year that’s been an off-the-rails rollercoaster professionally, Substack has reminded me who I am. A writer. Not a content creator. Not an SEO expert. Certainly not a video editor. None of the things that the internet has demanded of me over the past decade or so. Just someone who enjoys stringing sentences together, with no real expectation of who might read them. I highly doubt that anyone is searching for “Middle aged people throwing hot sauce party while wearing Deep South country getup and drinking orange wine”. But here we are. Read it or don’t.
As for that “wine biz,” I’ve had some wins in 2024 – an article in Decanter, a monthly wine column for DutchNews, several pieces for Devour, a fun Friday job in a wine shop – not to mention lots of travel to various wine regions. But in other ways, it’s been a tough lesson in failure being a necessary part of taking risk. I’ve failed to put on any paid tasting events; I’ve failed to convince a single restaurant to let me consult them on their wine list; I’ve failed to make much more than pocket money from wine, while the vast majority of my income still comes from corporate copywriting. (And even this looks dicey with AI nipping at my heels.) It’s been an anxious year – and that’s before I’ve even read the news.
But in amongst all the self-doubt, wine still brings me great joy – and for as long as that’s the case, I intend to keep writing this. And maybe one day next year, I’ll pluck up the courage to ask people to pay me for it.
My favourite wines from 2024
When I decided a few weeks ago to do a roundup of my favourite wines from this year, I figured it would be a bandwagon that everyone had jumped on by now. Weirdly, I’ve not seen many other Substackers publishing this yet (perhaps they have more original thought than me!) but in any case, I’m aware it’s not my most creative idea. What it is, however, is an opportunity to pull some of my top recommendations into one place, with lots of links for those interested. Perhaps it will form one of those “Start Here” posts in the future – who knows.
It's worth pointing out that these wines are relatively affordable, because they’re all bottles that I bought myself and drank with friends. During the year, I was lucky enough to try some much more expensive bottles at professional events and, as wonderful as they were, tasting something from a technical point of view, by myself, intimidated by imposter syndrome, is not conducive to my falling in love with a wine. As I argued in “How Time is the Essence of Wine,” context is everything. (Also, while I’m still figuring out exactly who my audience is, I doubt many of you are spending upwards of €50 on a bottle of wine.)
Bubbles
Alice Hartmann, Crémant de Luxembourg (no vintage)
I love a Crémant (I sometimes think I prefer it to Champagne) but I’m not aware that I’d ever had one from Luxembourg before, until this summer at a gorgeously opulent wine bar in Tallinn called Vixen Vinoteek. I was blown away by the Crémant de Luxembourg by Alice Hartmann: apple, pear and cream were there in abundance, but also cocoa beans and burnt matchstick.
Read more about Crémant:
White wine
La Pinturera, Garnacha Blanca from Rioja, Spain (2021)
My current favourite white Rioja, La Pinturera is made from 100% Garnacha Blanca and is all about bees wax, citrus peel and ripe pear on the nose. On the palate, it has a touch of creaminess and smooth oak, but more sandalwood than vanilla. I first drank this at home on an otherwise grey and dreary day, and it cheered me up no end.
Read more about white Rioja:
Bodega Colomé, Torrontés from Salta, Argentina (2022)
The Torrontés grape can be intensely aromatic, but every bottle I’ve tasted has had a beguilingly creamy finish that smooths out some of the natural acidity. Imagine a table laid with a vase of fragrant flowers like elderflower and honeysuckle, a bowl of tropical fruit like lychees and pineapple, and a tub of clotted cream. If you enjoy heavily perfumed whites (like Gewurztraminer), try Zuccardi’s Torrontés from the Uco Valley, although I preferred Colomé’s slightly more subtle expression (available in Europe and the US). If you have a friend with a roof terrace, get yourself an invite next summer and take over a bottle of Torrontés.
Read more about unoaked whites:
Campolargo Branco, white blend from Bairrada, Portugal (2014)
I drank this wine at a clifftop restaurant in Portugal’s Algarve, overlooking the Atlantic, while eating freshly caught red snapper. So yes, I may be a little biased, but I was fascinated by Campolargo’s aged white blend of Bical, Arinto and Cercial grapes from the Bairrada region of Portugal. The wine had spent one year in barrel and nine in bottle – lending it smoothly subtle oak, dried apricots and sultanas, plus a touch of nuttiness and caramel. Like nothing else I’ve tasted.
Read more about Lagos, Portugal.
Orange wine
Winzer Krems, Grüner Veltliner from Niederösterreich, Austria (2023)
2024 was arguably the year I finally got orange wine. Winzer Krems was my gateway: made from Austria’s signature grape Grüner Veltliner but with 18 days macerating on the grape skins, the wine has an orange blossom aroma, apricot and clove flavour, full-bodied texture and excellent ability to stand up to spicy food (of which I eat a lot). In theory, it’s a natural wine, but fear not – Winzer Krems is funk-free and not remotely cloudy. It’s a great starting point for anyone who’s orange-curious.
Read more about orange wine:
Rosé wine
Tenuta Antonini, Cerasuolo d’Abruzzo DOC from Abruzzo, Italy (2022)
If the second half of 2024 was all about orange wine, the first half was all about rosé. Specifically, the type of fuller-bodied, darker-coloured, fruit-forward rosé that’s the antithesis of sodding Whispering Angel. My favourite of these was the Cerasuolo d’Abruzzo made from Montepulciano grapes in central Italy by Tenuta Antonini. I loved its refreshing watermelon and pink grapefruit hit, followed by intense yet smooth pomegranate, with medium body and a long finish. Perfect balcony wine.
Read more about rosé:
Red wine
Paxá, Negra Mole from Algarve, Portugal (2023)
Another discovery from my extended stay in the Algarve, Negra Mole is an indigenous Portuguese grape that means “black soft” – presumably because the berries are dark in colour but the flavour is light and elegant. People often say it’s Portugal’s answer to Pinot Noir, but that would be doing a disservice to Negra Mole’s unique characteristics. I tried this one at a rooftop bar in Lagos and later bought a bottle from Paxá winery itself. Red cherry, violet, rose and just a touch of oak, this is one of those reds that would work with a Portuguese seafood stew like cataplana.
Read more about wine in the Algarve:
Domaine de l’Idylle, Gamay from Savoie, France (2023)
Continuing the light red theme, wines made from Gamay – and those from the Savoie region of France in particular – are growing on me more and more. This one from Domaine de l’Idylle is bursting with bright red berries, peppery spices and a lithe, youthful body. It also happens to be the very first bottle that I took home from my wine shop job.
Read more about Savoie wines:
Domaine Lafage ‘Nicolas,’ Grenache from Roussillon, France (2020)
Old-vine Grenache is the dominant grape behind pricy Catalan Priorat, but in this case it comes from the good-value Roussillon region in the south of France. Domaine Lafage’s version is juicy with fresh red fruits, dried black fruits, and full bodied with tobacco and chocolate, which would pair perfectly with duck or venison in a fruity sauce. I drank this just before watching the Netherlands beat Turkey in the quarter final of the men’s European football championship. (Hup Holland Hup!)
Read more about good-value French wines:
De Vidda, Cannonau from Sardinia, Italy (2022)
Cannonau is actually what the Sardinians call Grenache, so it seems that was my red grape of the year. I tasted De Vidda in Santa Teresa Gallura, a town on the north coast of Sardinia, in what’s called an enoteca: part bar, part wine shop, you’re free to buy a bottle to take home or drink on the spot, perhaps alongside a plate of salume and pecorino, while perched next to an upturned wine barrel. The wine itself is made from old-vine Cannonau, lending it oodles of flavour and ripe tannins, despite having only been aged in stainless steel and bottle, with no oak whatsoever. Why don’t we have enotecas in Amsterdam?
Read more about Sardinian wines.
This will be my last newsletter of 2024… Until next year, happy holidays!
Paxá wines are so good! This is a great list. I too spend countless hours on my Substack and make so very very little from it. But I am an addict! I went off on the earlier comment on social media and my disgust in having to have it I figured I’d rewrite my comment 🤣 I almost deleted IG today. Can you tell? I’m sick of having to so it all.
I love that Cannonau! And can totally relate that I am a writer first and not all of the other things the internet has demanded of me, as you so eloquently put it. 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼