With a mix of sharp wit, divine wisdom, and a flair for storytelling, Bacchus breaks down market trends, investment-worthy vintages, and the art of building a cellar that rivals Mount Olympus. Whether you're a seasoned collector or a curious enthusiast, these insights blend financial savvy with Bacchus’s signature zest for life—because what’s wealth without a little indulgence? Cheers to liquid assets! 🍷
Investment Reports
Bacchus recalls forging a wine-hot brand in the gravel of Graves, then explains why this perfect-score First Growth still trades at a tempting discount to its peers A god, a furnace and the birth of a smoky legend One misty spring I walked the gravel flats south of Bordeaux disguised
Investment Reports
Bacchus recalls tilting a Wachau cliff into morning sun for a bet with the river nymphs, then shows why this crystalline Riesling punches far above its ninety-six-dollar tag A god, a cliff and a wager on sunlight Long ago I met the Wachau river sprites who boasted that no vine
Investment Reports
Bacchus once raced a New Zealand falcon across Hawke’s Bay terraces and planted vines beneath its shadow; today that same gravel ridge yields a red swift enough to outrun sluggish markets A god, a falcon and a first-mover lesson At dawn I wagered a kārearea, the lightning-fast New Zealand
Investment Reports
Bacchus recalls fooling port merchants with one priceless cask, then shows investors why this four-hectare Eden Valley Shiraz still looks under-priced beside younger releases. A tale of barrels and bluff At the great timber wharf of Byblos I once posed as an itinerant cooper. Local traders bragged they could stretch
Investment Reports
Bacchus recounts the day he transformed greedy sailors into dolphins, then explains why this 100-point Howell Mountain Cabernet could turn today’s collectors into tomorrow’s legends A god, a ransom plot, and a lesson in value I once boarded a Tyrrhenian merchant ship disguised as a sleepy youth. The
Investment Reports
Bacchus reveals how eight thousand magnums and flawless 100-point scores keep Salon 2008 sprinting past every market dip A tale from the vine-crowned days When I first strode across the newborn slopes of Le Mesnil-sur-Oger, the chalk still glowed with the heat of Helios. I pressed my thyrsus into that
Investment Reports
Bacchus revisits the chalky amphitheatre where he once bottled a night-sky meteor, then breaks down why a 97-point micro-parcel now averaging about $2 150 a bottle may have more altitude to gain. When a Falling Star Kissed the Limestone Harvest night in early September 2014, the Chablis sky was velvet
Investment Reports
After a white-truffle prank in the cellar, Bacchus explains why this 98-point traditionalist, still hovering near $400, feels ready to sprint past safer assets. The truffle trick that sparked a legend Late November 2013, Alba lay under fog so thick it tasted of wet stone. I slipped into Maria Teresa
Investment Reports
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
Investment Reports
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
Investment Reports
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
Investment Reports
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