Beaujolais Nouveau - the fastest wine in France is almost here!

 

This isn’t a long read - more a splash than a soak.

On the third Thursday of November (20^th November this year), France does something delightfully un-French: it rushes. At exactly 12:01 a.m., the first bottles of Beaujolais Nouveau are uncorked, and what was grape juice just a few weeks ago suddenly becomes the most talked-about red in the world.

For one night, speed outranks sophistication, and the French collectively agree that impatience IS a virtue.

Blink and you’ll miss it

Beaujolais Nouveau is made from Gamay, the exuberant grape from the rolling hills north of Lyon. Think of Gamay as Pinot Noir’s more sociable sibling - softer, juicier, and less prone to drama. It thrives on carbonic maceration, a rapid fermentation that infuses the wine with electric fruit, low tannins, and the unfiltered joy of something that refuses to wait. The result? A heady, ruby rush of red berries, banana peel, and bubble-gum hints that taste like bottled celebration.

By decree, none of it can be sold before the third Thursday of November - a rule born in 1985 when France decided to turn chaos into theatre. Before that, winemakers raced their freshly bottled wines to Paris, with crates strapped to motorbikes and delivery vans. Now it’s all carefully timed, but the spirit remains the same: youthful, unpretentious, and gloriously exuberant.

A festival in a bottle

This isn’t a wine for poetic reflection or scholarly notes about minerality. It’s the opposite of brooding Bordeaux. Beaujolais Nouveau is what happens when a wine forgets to behave - light, fruity, and cheekily effervescent. It pairs best with friends, music, and an evening that started as “just one glass.”

Why it matters this side of Lyon

For drinkers in India and Southeast Asia, it’s an open invitation to join the global toast. Serve it slightly chilled (12–14 °C) with kebabs, chilli paneer, sushi, momos or even a late-night kathi roll. The wine’s bright fruit and soft edges love spice, and its enthusiasm forgives everything else.

Final pour

Beaujolais Nouveau doesn’t linger - on shelves or in memory. It’s here for a good time, not a long one. So, when the world opens its first bottle, don’t think, don’t wait. Pour. Laugh. Repeat.

That’s the whole point.

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.

 

Serendipity - or wines for that unplanned occasion

 

We've explored special occasions this month. Sometimes predictable (the uncle’s 50th birthday). Sometimes different (wine tastings at home). But what about the special occasion that's just for you? That week night when there’s no one, and one is a good enough number.

These nights don’t ask for permission. They don’t come with a calendar invite or a curated playlist. Or a bunch of festooned guests demanding a good time at your expense. They arrive unannounced - like a good idea or a bad pun - and suddenly, you’re standing in front of your wine rack wondering why you’ve been saving the good stuff for people who don’t even know how to pronounce “tannin.” Or prefer their wine in a can.

You weren’t planning to celebrate. You were planning to reheat leftovers and scroll through other people’s productivity. Or just order in that chop suey you usually avoided. But then something shifted. A breeze. A song. A moment of clarity. Or maybe just the realisation that you’ve survived another day without googling “how to pivot careers” for the sixth time this week.

There are no themed napkins. No one’s asking if the wine is “dry.” There’s just you, a glass, and the quiet thrill of doing something indulgent without a reason. It’s not loneliness. It’s the serendipity of solitude. The kind that sneaks up on you when you’re not trying too hard. The kind that doesn’t need a hashtag. The kind that just needs you to say yes.

So you go along with the mood, and open a bottle. Not the one you bought for your cousin’s engagement that got postponed thrice before being cancelled because the couple eloped. Not the one with the intimidating label and the price tag that screams “I’m compensating.” You reach for something with charm. With lift. With just enough bite to match your mood.

There are many wines that can play well into this mood. Try a bright, fresh Pinot Noir from New Zealand - medium-bodied, yes, but that’s just the polite way of saying it’s got bounce. It’s quietly confident, the kind of wine that shows up in a linen shirt and still steals the room. Then there’s a chilled rosé if you’re feeling ironic, a Beaujolais if you want something that giggles, a bold Syrah for your “watch me thrive” phase, or a dry Riesling if you like your refreshment with a bit of attitude. But really, it’s not about the grape. It’s about the grin you didn’t expect to wear tonight. Because all’s right with the world. Your world. 

You don’t decant. You don’t swirl like you’re auditioning for a sommelier reality show. You just pour a glass. You sip. And suddenly, the room feels different. Not louder - just more alive.

There’s a half-eaten packet of crackers on the counter. A wedge of cheese that’s seen better days. You consider plating it. You don’t. This isn’t about presentation. This is about presence. You sit. You scroll. You laugh at something that shouldn’t be funny. You toast to nothing in particular and everything at once. You’re not waiting for someone to arrive. You’re not performing. You’re just here - and that’s more than enough.

You pour another glass. You don’t check the time. You don’t check your calendar. You just lean back and let the moment stretch. This is the thrill of the unplanned. The joy of not waiting. The quiet randomness of opening the good bottle on a Thursday because it felt right.

Not because someone else showed up. Because you did.

And let’s be honest: most “special occasions” are just excuses to tolerate people you wouldn’t invite to your solo wine night. The birthday dinners. The office farewells. The wedding receptions where no one actually meets the couple. You’ve done your time. You’ve clinked glasses with strangers and smiled through speeches that should’ve been emails.

Tonight is different. Tonight, you’re celebrating the fact that you’re still here. Still curious. Still capable of surprising yourself. You didn’t plan it. You didn’t dress for it. You didn’t even clean the table. But the wine is open, the mood is right, and the moment - however fleeting - is yours.

So here’s a glass to the unplanned occasion. To the bottle you didn’t save. To the evening you didn’t schedule. To the version of you that doesn’t need a reason. And if someone asks what you were celebrating, just say: “Me.”

Then take another sip. Slowly. Like you meant it. Because you did.

 

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.
 
 

How to host a wine tasting at home

 

Most social gatherings in South Asia follow a strict formula - whisky, butter chicken, and someone butchering Coldplay while the rest nod politely and pretend it’s not déjà vu with cholesterol. You’ve been to this party. You’ve hosted this party. You’ve left this party wondering why you even changed out of pyjamas.

But here’s a fresh idea: host a wine tasting. At home. No, you don’t need a vineyard or a degree in oenology. Just curiosity, a few bottles, and friends who are willing to sip instead of chug.

Wine tasting is quietly becoming the new “thing” in new wine markets like India - especially among young professionals who want something with a little more finesse. And no soda.

Why bother?

A wine tasting isn't a dinner party. It's not a feeding frenzy. It's a curated experience - one that slows things down, sharpens attention, and reveals that your friends have personalities beyond their LinkedIn profiles.

In Paris, tastings are hushed, reverential affairs where silence is mistaken for sophistication. In London, they're networking with stemware. At home, whether in Mumbai or Dubai, they should be anything but. This is your space. Keep it relaxed, curious, and pour with intent.

The guest list: quality over quantity

4 to 10 people maximum. Friends who are curious, colleagues who won't lecture about terroir, or that couple who just celebrated their anniversary. Set expectations early: this is a tasting, not a drinking competition. No shots. No mixers. If someone asks for cola with their Cabernet, smile and make a note.

The wines: mix, match, and surprise

Start with 4 - 6 bottles, ideally a mix of reds, whites, and one wildcard that makes people lean in. Here’s a starter pack:
• Sauvignon Blanc (New Zealand or Chile): crisp, citrusy, perfect for humid evenings
• Chenin Blanc (Fratelli or Sula): floral, light, surprisingly competent
• Riesling (Germany or Alsace): off-dry, aromatic, a dream with heat
• Pinot Noir (France or Oregon): delicate, earthy, good for pretending you know things
• Shiraz (Grover Zampa or Australia): spicy, full-bodied, pairs well with drama
• Sparkling Wine (Prosecco or Chandon India): because… bubbles
Serve in order of lightest to heaviest, whites before reds, dry before sweet. But remember: this isn't a WSET exam. It's your living room.

Cheese, please (but not cubes)

If your cheese platter looks like it came from a hotel breakfast buffet, you’ve already lost. Go for variety:

• Brie: soft, creamy, and French enough to make you feel cultured
• Manchego: Spanish, nutty, and pairs beautifully with reds
• Goat cheese: tangy and perfect with Sauvignon Blanc
• Local twist: Try Kalari (Jammu’s stretchy cheese) lightly grilled & surprisingly wine-friendly

Pairings with bite

Wine needs context. And purpose. Try these:
• Riesling + chicken shawarma sliders: sweet cuts spice, no prayers required
• Sauvignon Blanc + paneer tikka or Thai spring rolls: crisp meets heat, and they dance
• Rosé + Vietnamese rice paper rolls: fresh, light, effortlessly photogenic
• Pinot Noir + mushroom galouti kebabs: earthy meets umami, soft tannins embrace it
• Shiraz + harissa lamb chops: bold meets bolder, smoky meets smouldering
• Sparkling wine + za'atar-spiced nuts or tempura: bubbles and crunch, an unbeatable duet

The goal is discovery. Let your guests argue about which pairing works best. That's half the fun.

Setting the scene

You do not need crystal stemware. But you do not, ever, use steel tumblers. One decent glass per person is fine. Arrange the bottles in order: lightest to boldest. Serve small pours (say 60 ml).

Lighting matters. Music matters. No Bollywood item numbers. Think lo-fi, jazz, or that playlist, defunct because your friends only like Arijit Singh.

The tasting: sip, swirl, say something

Encourage sniffing, swirling, and saying ridiculous things like "I get aromas of memory, finish of misjudgment." Laugh at their answers. It's bonding. Serve bread, water, and maybe cucumber sticks between tastings to cleanse palates. Keep the tone light - no pressure to pronounce "Trockenbeerenauslese" correctly. The joy of hosting at home is freedom - no rules, no right answers.

The finish

Hosting a wine tasting at home isn't about showing off. It's about creating something slower, more curious, more alive than the usual script. You're not just serving wine. You're serving possibility. You're telling your guests: "I could've fed you butter chicken and whisky, but I chose nuance."

And if someone still asks for Old Monk, smile - with a glint in your eye - and say, "Find your salvation elsewhere."

Because the real point of wine - and life - is to taste, think, and try again.

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.

A beginner's guide to gifting wine

 

The art of turning up with something

Across much of Asia, turning up empty-handed is a social faux-pas of demonic proportions. You bring fruit, sweets, or something the hosts can re-gift without breaking the seal. It’s not generosity so much as insurance: the proof that you came bearing good intent, not just an appetite.

In Europe and the US, meanwhile, gifting often has less ceremony. A bottle of wine at a dinner is less about duty and more about taste - an unspoken contest in who brought the cleverest label or the sharpest vintage. Different cultures, same underlying instinct: no one likes a guest who arrives with just their opinions.

Where did wine gifting begin?

Wine has long been a currency of respect. Ancient Greeks offered it to gods; Romans gave amphorae of wine to show status; French aristocrats made it a social lubricant. Somewhere between Bacchus and Bordeaux, wine became the ultimate shorthand for refinement.

By the time the practice landed on Indian and Asian shores, however, the context shifted: wine was exotic, aspirational, a “Western” gesture. In short, carrying wine to dinner became less about showing off your cellar and more about proving you’d been inside an airport duty-free shop.

The symbolism of wine gifting

In Europe, wine represents culture, terroir, heritage - all those poetic words that swirl like tannins in a sommelier’s mouth.

In India and Southeast Asia, it often carries a more aspirational glow. Wine is not just a drink but a marker of upward mobility, of belonging to a global circle. Gifting a bottle is less about the liquid and more about the message: “I rate you highly enough to give you something classy.” Done right, it’s flattering. Done wrong, it’s comic relief.

But does it really work in Asian cultures?

Absolutely - but with caveats. Turning up with wine in India or Southeast Asia signals thoughtfulness, but also sophistication. It’s a way of saying, “I didn’t just grab the nearest box of sweets.” That said, caution is vital. Don’t carry a bottle to gatherings where alcohol is neither expected nor welcome. A misjudged gift will not only remain unopened - it may become a story retold for decades. And not in your favour.

How close do you need to be?

Wine is not a box of sweets. You don’t hand it out wholesale to every neighbour, colleague, or distant uncle who’s ever given you a lift in his battered Fiat. Save it for people who matter - close friends, respected colleagues, the boss you’d rather impress than argue with. For everyone else, there’s always chocolates, fruit, or that safe, circular tin of assorted biscuits that survives for months in Indian households like a relic.

Choosing the right bottle

Here’s where beginners usually stumble. The trick isn’t to buy the most expensive bottle. Think context. A professional dinner? Go for something safe and crisp - a Sauvignon Blanc or a nice Riesling. An intimate family gathering? A richer wine like a Malbec, Shiraz, or even a Cabernet. If in doubt, bubbles rarely disappoint.

This checklist will help you show up with just that bit of elegance that separates sommeliers from men:

- Know thy drinker: If your host doesn’t drink, gifting them wine is tone-deaf. In such cases, pivot to accessories or non-alcoholic alternatives. But never go empty-handed

- Red vs. white vs. rosé: Reds are bold and classic, whites are crisp and versatile, rosés are playful and Instagram-friendly

- Avoid extremes: That obscure Georgian orange wine might impress your sommelier friend, but it’ll confuse your aunt. Stick to approachable varietals - Cabernet Sauvignon, Pinot Noir, Sauvignon Blanc, or a well-balanced Prosecco

- Presentation matters: A bottle in a paper bag screams “last-minute panic.” Wrap it well, or better yet, box it with flair.

Add a little something extra

A single bottle can look lonely. Pair it with elegant wine glasses, a quirky corkscrew, or even a box of chocolates. These little extras show effort, and effort is what hosts remember. Just avoid tacky “wine-themed” trinkets - nothing says “I panicked in Duty Free” like a novelty bottle-stopper shaped like a flamingo.

Closing pour

At its heart, wine gifting isn’t about the bottle. It’s about judgement. Bring the right one, and you look thoughtful, worldly, even a little charming. Bring the wrong one, and your gift sits unopened, gathering dust, the punchline to your aunt’s favourite anecdote about “that guest.” Choose wisely.

The true test of a good wine gift? When your hosts reach for a second pour.

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.

Champagne & sparkling wines: A guide to bubbles and fizz

 

This October, The Second Pour opens the cabinet with one aim: to find wines that don’t just mark the moment, but magnify it. And there’s no better place to begin than champagne - the liquid hurrah to life’s biggest wins.

Why do we drink champagne? It’s because nothing else says you’ve made it quite as well as a bottle of bubbly under pressure. The pop of the cork has become shorthand for success - whether you’ve landed a promotion, closed a deal, or are showering a Formula 1 podium in sticky victory.

That familiar hiss, the rush of bubbles rising like confetti - suddenly a milestone feels bigger, a triumph feels grander, and even your colleague’s over-rehearsed toast sounds almost profound. Champagne turns a moment into a memory; becomes a punctuation mark for life’s best chapters.

Joy in the bubble (sorry, Paul Simon)

Few drinks carry as much drama as champagne. It is, after all, the only liquid that insists on arriving with its own drumroll. Emperors, actresses, dictators, duchesses, even cricketers - champagne has soaked them all. Napoleon carried bottles into battle, claiming victory deserved bubbles (defeat too, presumably). Marilyn Monroe once allegedly bathed in it - though the logistics of pouring 350 bottles into a tub stretch the imagination. Closer to home, opening a bottle during a cricket celebration can feel like matching fireworks with fizz: both noisy and impossible to forget.

The magic lies in its duality: at once delicate and dangerous, frivolous and ferocious. A glass light as a laugh, yet dense with history, culture and technical obsession. If ever there was a drink built for celebrations - joyful, slightly reckless - it is this.

Six legends in a flute

Names in champagne are less brands, more dynasties. Each one has a myth stitched into its label:

Moët & Chandon: Founded in 1743, Moët & Chandon remains the official drink of European aristocracy and Instagram influencers alike. Napoleon reputedly visited their cellars so often, they built a road to his house.

Veuve Clicquot: The Widow Clicquot, Barbe-Nicole, turned her husband’s sleepy business into a global empire in the 19th century. She pioneered the riddling rack, ensuring clear champagne instead of sludge. Today, her yellow label signals instant glamour.

Krug: The serious uncle. Founded in 1843, Krug insists on uncompromising craftsmanship, barrel fermentations, and the sort of prices that make you sit down before googling.

Dom Pérignon: Legend has it the Benedictine monk cried, “I am tasting the stars!” when he perfected the blend. Reality: he was mostly trying to stop bottles from exploding. Still, the myth endures, and so does the aura.

Bollinger: Established in 1829, Bollinger is robust, muscular champagne - the sort 007 orders. Known for its Pinot Noir dominance and oak barrel fermentations, it is unapologetically bold.

Laurent-Perrier Rosé: This deserves its own stage. Rosé Champagne is often marketed with feminine charm - pale pink, delicate bubbles, strawberries on the nose. Feminine? Yes. Fragile? Hardly. More Mata Hari than porcelain doll.

The name

Here’s where it gets fizzy. Champagne isn’t just any sparkling wine - it’s sparkling wine made under very specific conditions in the Champagne region of France. EU law defends the term with the ferocity of a dragon guarding its hoard.

Outside Champagne, the world bubbles on with its own versions: Prosecco (Italy), Cava (Spain), Cap Classique (South Africa), and a growing army of Indian and Thai sparklers. Call them what you like, but don’t call them champagne unless you want to meet a Parisian lawyer with an unlimited expense account.

Bubbles in Bangalore, fizz in Phnom Penh

How champagne is sold, served and celebrated differs wildly between markets. In Paris, it is ritual; in London, business expense; in Mumbai, it is theatre mixed with ambition.

And therein lies champagne’s curious strength: it adapts. It is both rooted in its chalky soils and cosmopolitanenough to grace wedding banquets in Bangkok. It can be drunk with oysters, samosas, or pineapple tarts. It manages to be at once rarefied and surprisingly democratic - as long as you’re willing to spend the money.

The sting in the flute

Let’s not pretend otherwise: champagne is extravagant. You don’t buy it as an everyday drink. You buy it for that curtain call moment when the bubbles take the limelight.

As you raise a glass to celebrate, remember: bubbles float, they rise, and they vanish. A reminder, perhaps, that joy is temporary, but so what? So is life. The point is – don’t let it go flat.

 
 

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.

Pour decisions - how wine sells itself from Bordeaux to Bengaluru

Walk into a Parisian wine store and you’ll notice something odd. No flashing neon signs, no sommeliers in choreographed dances, no QR codes promising to reveal your “wine spirit animal.” Just a weary caviste, ready to recommend a Burgundy that costs roughly the same as your rent.

Contrast that with a wine launch in Mumbai, where the experience involves chandeliers, hashtags, and the faint suspicion you’ve wandered into a Bollywood party. Both sell wine. Both succeed. But the routes they take are as different as Riesling and rum punch.

Old habits die harder than corks

In mature markets - France, Italy, Spain - the wine-selling culture rests on heritage, not hustle. Families pass down domaines over centuries, not social media. Buyers are raised knowing their appellations, and even the goat knows which side of the Loire produces Sauvignon. Marketing here uses Tradition. Soil is the slogan. You don’t “sell” Bordeaux in Bordeaux. You simply point to the vineyard and say: “Voilà. Kindly pay.”

This smug simplicity has its drawbacks. Younger drinkers in Europe increasingly shrug at the terroir sermons and opt instead for craft beer, cocktails, or canned hard seltzer. So the Old World, too, must flirt with reinvention. Pop-up bars in abandoned chapels, digital sommelier apps, and influencer-driven tastings are creeping in. Nothing terrifies a Burgundian more than “keyword” - yet even they now admit the vineyard drone shot plays better on Instagram than their dusty crest.

When the cork is newer than the consumer

New markets (India, China, the Gulf) are another universe. Here, wine is still playing catch-

up with whisky and beer. The strategy is less about highlighting tradition and more about teaching about corkscrews. The selling, therefore, often begins with education. Certified trainers and academies are stepping in. Who don’t merely tell you that Chardonnay tastes of buttered toast; they explain why you might actually prefer it with your mezze platter.

Here, pop-ups, guided tastings, and pairing dinners aren’t accessories; they’re the engine. A consumer in Buenos Aires may discover Malbec at a luxury mall activation, while someone in Colombo might first encounter Chenin Blanc at a corporate workshop. Wine gets positioned less as an heirloom and more as a lifestyle passport. Aspirational marketing with tannins.

Politics and culture in the barrel

Wine is never just fermented grape juice; it’s politics in a bottle. Mature markets benefit from supportive legislation, geographic indications, and state-backed promotion boards. Meanwhile, new markets wrestle with taxes, distribution hurdles, and moral panic. India’s state-by-state regulation structure resembles a Kafka novel. China alternates between welcoming Bordeaux with open arms and accusing Australian Shiraz of plotting against national dignity.

Culture also plays its part. In Mediterranean countries, wine is food - expected on the table like bread. In South Asia, it’s still perceived as a luxury add-on. Each perception reshapes how the product is marketed, priced, and poured. What counts as casual in Tuscany - half a litre of Chianti on a Tuesday - still counts as special-occasion theatre in Singapore.

The net and the grape

Of course, none of this would matter without digital disruption. Social media platforms bring remote winemakers on the same stage as Champagne houses. A reel of someone swirling Gewürztraminer in Vienna might convince a student in Delhi to splurge immediately. DTC shipping, virtual tastings, and wine subscriptions are rewriting old playbooks. A 200-year-old Rioja estate now competes for attention with a TikTok sommelier who explains fermentation while doing squats.

For wine marketers, this is both thrilling and frightening. Tactics are no longer confined to glossy print ads and trade tastings. Instead, they now stretch from influencer collabs to e-commerce checkout pages. The future of wine selling may look less like a vineyard stroll and more like a Shopify dashboard.

Selling the sip

What’s clear is that wine cannot hide behind its vines anymore. Whether Bordeaux, Bengaluru, Verona or Vietnam, the act of selling now means engaging - educating, entertaining, and embedding wine into cultural rituals that extend far beyond the glass.

And if all this sounds a little exhausting, it should! Wine was never meant to be easy. It was meant to be complex, confusing, and occasionally ridiculous. Precisely why people love it. Anyone can sell beer with a billboard. It takes a special kind of madness to sell fermented grape juice with 2,000 years of baggage and a swirl of emojis.

After all, you’re not just selling wine. You’re selling the idea that life is incomplete without it. 

And that’s a truth best swallowed slowly.

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.

 

Becoming a Wine Professional - Certifications, Careers & Communities

 

You’ve swirled, you’ve sniffed, you’ve pretended to know the difference between “forest floor” and plain dirt. Then, over the second pour, a dangerous idea strikes: What if I turned this hobby into something professional?

Welcome to the rabbit hole. One minute you’re Googling “best wine with biryani,” the next you’re memorising soil types in Burgundy and blind-tasting Riesling at 10 a.m. for “career development.”

Why bother with certifications?

Because while your uncle’s “I’ve been drinking wine for 40 years” is heartfelt, it doesn’t impress restaurant managers or importers. Certifications, however, do three things:

1. Organise your chaos – you stop learning wine by accident and start learning it on purpose
2. Add credibility – when you say “this is corked,” people actually believe you, instead of topping up your glass out of pity
3. Plug you into a community – because nothing bonds people like collective suffering over vintage charts.

Do you need prior skills?

Not particularly. You don’t have to be born with a sommelier’s nose or a winemaker’s patience. What helps is:

• A palate that isn’t entirely numb from hot sauce
• Curiosity - reading the back of the wine label, not just the alcohol percentage
• Stamina - for exams, flashcards, and endless acronyms

The big certifications

• WSET (Wine & Spirit Education Trust): The global starting point. Levels 1 through 4, each more intimidating than the last. By Level 2, you’ll casually drop “Rías Baixas” into conversation. By Level 4, you’ll question your life choices. 👉 wsetglobal.com
• Court of Master Sommeliers (CMS): The sommelier route: service, blind tasting, and oral exams. Passing means you can open Champagne without decapitating anyone. 👉 mastersommeliers.org
• Institute of Masters of Wine (IMW): The Everest. Only a few hundred people on Earth have summited. Requires essays, tastings, and at least one Darth Vader moment. But you can write MW after your name. Instant respect. 👉 mastersofwine.org
• Society of Wine Educators (SWE): More academic, less performance. Certified Specialist of Wine (CSW) and friends. Perfect if you’d rather explain tannins with PowerPoint than uncork at a table. 👉 societyofwineeducators.org
• Local diplomas & universities: Universities such as the University of Bordeaux offer oenology and wine business degrees. Less glamorous than sommelier exams, but you’ll learn to pronounce “fermentation kinetics” without hiccupping.

Career paths?

What happens after you’ve collected the certificates, the debt, and the stress-induced eye twitch? Yes, you can go beyond Instagram reels:

• Sommelier: Restaurant floor hero, recommending wines while politely ignoring requests for “something sweet, but not too sweet.
• Retail & merchandising: Deciding what fills shop shelves, i.e., wielding quiet power over everyone’s weekend plans
• Wine educator: Teaching classes, leading tastings, or convincing your friends that “yes, this is a real job.”
• Wine writing: Deadlines, disappointment, and the occasional free bottle. It’s journalism with tannins
• Import/export & distribution: The money end. Less swirl, more spreadsheets
• Viticulture & winemaking: If you enjoy mud, weather complaints, and grapes that don’t listen

 People at the peak

The wine world has its own Olympians:

• Hugh Johnson OBE: Legendary writer, historian, and co-creator of The World Atlas of Wine. A career built on wit, wisdom, and maps. Over 60 years in the business. 👉 hughjohnson.com
• Jancis Robinson MW: Critic, writer, and oracle of grape varieties. Runs one of the most influential wine sites globally. Known for her pen, her palate, and occasionally terrifying precision. 👉 jancisrobinson.com
• Jane Anson: Bordeaux authority, critic, and author of Inside Bordeaux. Moves through Médoc and Margaux like most of us move through supermarkets. 👉 janeanson.com
• Sonal Holland MW: India’s first Master of Wine, educator, judge, and pioneer in growing the wine culture of an entire subcontinent. 👉 sonalholland.com
• Namratha Stanley: Rising voice in wine education and communication, bridging global knowledge with Indian markets. Owner of the Solicantus wine brand. 👉 solicantus.com
• Lindsay Trivers: Sommelier and entrepreneur, co-founder of The Tasting Class in Dubai, demystifying wine in a region where even finding a corkscrew can feel like contraband. 👉 thetastingclass.com

And after you’re certified…?

You can turn your love of wine into a profession. You can sit exams, collect badges, and

declare “minerality” with authority. But certifications are scaffolding, not destiny.

Whether you’re a Master of Wine or just master of boxed wine, the best professionals aren’t the ones who memorise everything. They’re the ones who never stop pouring, tasting, and asking: why this wine, why here, why now?

And if someone sneers at your “lack of credentials,” offer them a blind tasting. Watching them call a Shiraz a Merlot is always more satisfying than showing them your certificate.

The individuals listed here are my own choice of the "greats of the wine industry". It's entirely possible your neighbour is a MW but may not advertise it.

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.