My personal relationship with wine - and a Jancis Robinson win

 

The last blog of our November series on “Building your personal relationship with wine” is very personal. In October 2025, I became the first Indian (and also the first UAE resident) to win the Jancis Robinson Wine Writing Competition. The piece that won? Monsoon Diaries with Riesling – in which I wrote about how Riesling can shine in the Indian monsoon, paired with decadent, deep fried and deliciously spicy Indian food. I described the sheer joy of pairing Riesling with vada-pav. Not exactly Bordeaux terroir, I agree.

The competition brief was deceptively simple: write an ode to a grape. My choice of Riesling, the mercurial diva of the wine world, proposed that this grape, with its high‑wire acidity and mood swings, belongs alongside onion fritters, rain‑slick streets, and the chaos of a season that refuses to be tamed. It was, in essence, rain in a bottle. The judges agreed, including Hugh Johnson OBE, whose World Atlas of Wine has been the bible for six decades, and Jancis Robinson OBE, described as the most respected wine critic and journalist in the world.

This award mattered to me because it recognised a new voice, from a new market. It agreed with my point of view that clarity, originality, and an unabashedly irreverent take on this divine beverage are as important as the heritage and history of this seven thousand year old grape expression.

It told me that wine writing doesn’t have to be a spreadsheet of scores or a catalogue of soil types. It can be a story, a scene, a memory. And it underlined that the readers aren’t looking for another dry recital of tannins; they’re looking for a reason to care.

What lessons from this award can I share with you?

Your story beats their scores. Wine isn't about 92 points. It's about the Kabinett you drank on a wet, foggy day; the Malbec at your first date; the Prosecco that saved a terrible dinner party. Those stories matter. That's your relationship with wine. My win proves it - judges chose a personal story over technical analysis.

Your voice deserves its space. For years, wine writing sounded like textbooks. Dry. Authoritative. Boring. But wine is alive, weird, surprising. If your Chardonnay tastes like "grandma's living room in August," go right ahead and say it. If your Pinot feels moody, own it. Your voice - your specific, cultural, unfiltered voice - is valid. My monsoon piece won because it sounded like me. Yours should sound like you.

Wine Reflects your world: You don't need to copy the Old World. Pair wine with whatever you're actually eating. Let your culture shape your wine experience. Riesling with vada-pav isn't weird - it's honest. The judges got it. You should too.

Wine is not just about terroir and tannins. It’s about people, places, and the stories you share. It is about the freedom to experiment, the courage to defend your taste, and the instinct to use your voice to build bridges across cultures. Because if wine writing is going to matter in new markets, it has to go beyond notes.

Winning the Jancis Robinson Wine Writing Competition wasn’t the end of a journey. It was the start of a chapter where wine writing is less about encyclopaedic authority and more about cultural affinity. When they announced my name, I felt something shift. Not just pride - validation. That the way I see wine - through seasons and street food, through laughter and cultural memory - wasn't niche. It was necessary. And if my voice mattered in this competition, maybe it meant that other voices from India, Thailand, Kenya, wherever - they matter too.

 

Whether you're in Mumbai pairing Prosecco with pakoras, in Bangkok discovering natural wines, or in Nairobi building your first collection - you're not learning to appreciate their wine culture. You're building your own. Your taste is valid. Your voice is what matters. Your culture belongs in wine conversation. You don't need permission from Burgundy to enjoy wine your way.

So here's my commitment as I pour again: to build a voice that respects the Old World, champions the New, and keeps dismantling snobbery one sarcastic line at a time. And to remind readers - whether in Mumbai, Dubai, or Burgundy - that wine is best enjoyed when it feels like rain in a bottle, laughter in a glass, and has a story worth telling.

That's what a personal relationship with wine looks like. And that, really, is worth celebrating.

 

 

Wine should be enjoyed. Drink responsibly.

Disclaimer: All links provided in this blog are based on my own research and are not paid or sponsored.