If New Zealand wine makes you think “just Sauvignon Blanc,” hold tight: Felton Road is here to correct your Pinot prejudice. Tucked deep into Central Otago’s Bannockburn hills, this tiny vineyard rewrote Kiwi wine history—not by shouting, but by quietly crafting some of the world’s most thrilling
I lingered over the decanter, breathing in the slow awakening of Château Lafite Rothschild 2010. The deep garnet hue caught the candlelight, stirring memories of a cedar bough I once laid beneath the barrels in Pauillac’s hallowed cellars—a promise of whispers yet to be heard. Initially reticent, this
Bacchus relives the night he wired a thunderstorm straight into Antinori’s limestone ridge, then proves why a 98-point Super-Tuscan trading around $220 still looks undervalued next to your blue-chip equities. When the Storm Became Wine Back in October 2016 a freak squall rolled off the Tyrrhenian Sea and cracked
Introduction As twilight melts into dusk, the Barossa Valley quietly comes alive under the glow of a rising moon. It’s a subtle presence, illuminating vineyards gently rolling like ocean waves beneath its soft, silver light, bathing rows of ancient vines in quiet luminescence. I recall my first evening tasting
Chardonnay isn’t supposed to be exciting. At least, that’s what you might think if your reference point is supermarket shelves stacked with $10 bottles. But trust me: taste Domaine Leflaive’s Montrachet once, and you’ll forget Chardonnay ever bored you. This isn’t another winery story—it’
Antinori’s 2016 Tignanello delivers black-cherry intensity, velvety tannins, and a two-minute mineral finish. Critics praise it in the high-90s, scarcity is real, and cellar life stretches beyond 2040—making it a hedonistic thrill ride and serious investment.
I still remember the first swirl of Domaine Jean-Louis Chave Hermitage Rouge 2010, after a decade of patient waiting. In that deep, garnet elixir, I felt the Rhône’s granite pulse against my palm. Blackberry and cassis whispered first, but soon the glass sang louder—black cherries, violets, and smoked
Bacchus revisits a moon-lit wager beneath Vosne-Romanée’s lime-washed walls, then shows why a 98-to-100-point, 6 000-bottle micro-vintage trading at ~$28 000 apiece still has room to defy gravity in your portfolio. I first tasted the 2010 Romanée-Conti on a September night when the harvest moon looked like a copper
Okay, here’s the short version: A property developer named Bill Harlan buys rugged Napa hillside in the ’80s, enlists a star-studded team, survives threats from cougars (literal mountain lions, not investors), and quietly builds what becomes America’s greatest Bordeaux-inspired cult estate. Today, billionaires, collectors, and critics scramble for
I remember the first breath I took in the ancient vineyards beneath a crescent moon, air gently perfumed by ripe black fruit, mingling with whispers of earth's graphite-rich soils. It was there, amidst rows of silent vines dreaming of dawn, that I awoke, understanding deeply how wine quietly
Romanée-Conti 2010 review—sensory fireworks, 450-case scarcity, high-ninety acclaim, and an investment pitch that rattles wallets.
In the theater of great wines, Margaux stands poised like a prima ballerina: elegant, nuanced, powerful—but always dancing lightly upon the palate. To sip a Margaux is to experience a graceful dance balancing power and finesse, an artistry rooted in the vineyard yet refined in the glass. It is
Picture a landscape brushed by twilight’s gentle hand—an ethereal valley nestled between the monumental embrace of the Andes, vineyards sprawling like silk ribbons beneath a vast, starlit sky. Welcome, friends, to Argentina’s beguiling Uco Valley, a region that mirrors humanity's profound dance with nature, an
A 99-point Côte-Rôtie icon still changing hands for little more than $400 a bottle – here’s why the God of Wine believes the 2015 is poised to climb the same Olympian slopes as Burgundy’s blue-chips. I remember when amphitheatres weren’t ruins but Friday-night venues, their stone benches glowing
Here’s the setup. A Melbourne telecom researcher called Phillip Jones buys a windswept dairy block in South Gippsland in 1979, plants the wrong grapes, rips them out, waits twelve years to release a bottle, and ultimately hands the keys to a star from Gevrey-Chambertin. Bass Phillip isn’t a
Tasting Notes
Screaming Eagle 2016 reviewed by Dionysus—taste, story, investment upside, and why this cult Napa Cabernet justifies its sky-high tag.
A near‑perfect 2018 that has already doubled in price yet still sits at half the cost of Napa’s cult royalty–why the God of Wine sees more altitude ahead. I’ve always trusted stone more than soil. Centuries ago–another name, another continent–I watched vines claw through
The Rebel of Rioja In 1877, Rafael López de Heredia did something quietly revolutionary—he chose patience over quick profit, tradition over modern convenience, and terroir above everything. Amidst a wine world chasing trends, López de Heredia created a winery that remains refreshingly, stubbornly unchanged. The Art of Waiting The
I remember the first shiver Dom Pérignon Plénitude 2 Vintage 2002 sent through my palate. A moment so transcendent, it was as though time itself paused, allowing the wine’s deep, golden whispers to tell a tale only patience can unravel. Its extended sleep—some fifteen years on lees—wasn’
Come, dear friend. Pour a glass. Let the deep garnet reflections whisper secrets of earth and sky, aged gently in Spanish oak—my treasured Vega Sicilia Valbuena 5° 2017. This wine, a poem from Ribera del Duero, murmurs softly, beckoning us into a world of exquisite pairing possibilities. In ancient
Tasting Notes
Uncover why Salon Le Mesnil Blanc de Blancs 2008 is the ultimate Champagne thrill—edgy, collectible, and fiercely elegant.
A 100‑point Port trading at weekday‑Bordeaux prices; here’s why I’m filling my cellar before the herd wakes up. I, Bacchus - twice‑born lord of the vine - keep unruly hours on Olympus. At one reckless symposium I matched every god toast for toast until thunder
1. Why you should care (a 90-second origin story) Back in 1998, two Argentine buddies—Santiago Achával Becú and Manuel Ferrer—teamed up with roaming Italian winemaker Roberto Cipresso. Their manifesto: “Let the vineyard speak; get the hell out of the way.” They hunted down century-old, ungrafted Malbec parcels clinging
I remember my first sip of Palmer—1996, candle‑lit library, Bach’s Goldberg murmuring in the corner, my mentor whispering, “Liber, this is silk in bottle form.” Ever since, I’ve followed the estate like a lovestruck falcon. Here, uncorked and breathing, is the whole tale. Roots in the