January, Janvier | drinking habits and salon season

Stints of sobriety, readying myself for salon season and regions I am on the hunt for..

So I actually wrote a whole other start to this substack. It was on the same theme of toe-dipped sobriety. But I don’t know - I am not sure it felt sincere or somehow real enough, if that makes sense? I will surmise it here for you: last year I did Dry Jan but I liked it so much that I ended up doing 98 days. During this time, I saved so much money from not drinking, eating out and taking late night-early morning cabs, that I was able to afford a very nice trip to Kenya. Africa aside, I also worked out loads, did loads of saunas and sunrise walks on the Heath and had a really great time dating this one guy totally and utterly sober. I know, I sound so terribly sanctimonious. Bear with me.

The whole experience was also really confronting and weirdly emotional. On one hand, I felt so calm and in control, and then on the other hand, I also cried so much. Normally I could and would distract myself with some sort of revelry - a way to blow off the build up of pressure and relax the internalised tension - the subsequent fatigue then seemingly acting as a buffer and distraction to whatever was going on. Sans booze, you have to ride the wave, no matter how uncomfortable it is. During this moment of sobriety last year, I went through a sort of professional and personal break up. It was horrible and heartbreaking and so confusing. The emotional turmoil felt like it could have drowned me, but I was also becoming aware that the feelings would still be there tomorrow, whether I drank or not. I was beginning to learn that, no matter their intensity, these feelings would pass. Piling a hangover on top of it wasn’t going to help.

I feel I should also mention that alcoholism is a definite and very real part of my familial heritage. The irony of my chosen trade is not lost on me. I love what I do and cherish the connections that it brings me to people, nature, culture and history, but, if I am honest, I am also keenly aware that I am toying with something that could consume me. My own family aside, our industry is awash with people who haven’t survived the professional toying; too much access and too many people ready to wing (wo)man you to the pub. While other industries offer unlimited fresh fruit and discounted gym memberships, our industry rolls a little differently. Our perks come in the form of free drinks, wine lunches and dinners and wine trips. You become adept at working and drinking, at being professional even under the influence.

I am not here to bash our industry, but I am trying to find words to articulate the dichotomy that I sometimes find myself in, and wonder if anyone else feels like this too? I am in constant negotiation with myself as to what is too much? What is allowed? Am I drinking for fun? Or am I drinking out of habit?

Even as I write this, I feel like I am awash with contradictions; I am again doing Dry Jan, and again really enjoying it. I sleep well, wake early and exercise often. My mind feels alive and creative, for which I am so thankful because I have so many ideas and plans that I want to create this year, and not drinking definitely gives me the space to do this. However, I am also excited to drink again. I want to savour a proper Guinness in an old London pub, I want to smash a couple of demis on a sun drenched terrace, I want to sip pét-nat with my girlfriends on the beach and I want to spend all day naked with a man drinking excellent wine in bed.

I worry that sobriety is being co-opted by the problematic world of wellness, tangled in puritanical ideals and impossible standards of perfection. For me, sobriety and indulgence aren’t opposites; they’re complements - like yin and yang, each vital in its own way. Clarity gives me the space to create, dream, and grow, while indulgence invites me to let go, revel in the moment, and embrace life’s unpredictability.

My sanctimonious sobriety; Kenya and sunrises on the Heath

A journey through salon season

This fleeting stint of sobriety is going to be fittingly broken by a tidal wave of wine fairs, known as salons in France. Across Europe and beyond, thousands of winemakers, buyers, and writers are gearing up for weeks filled with tastings, dinners, and ill-fated decisions to hit the local discothèque. Of course, you are probably all aware by now that I am rather biased in favour of France, but it really is the kingpin country in terms of salons. Proceedings kick off in Montpellier, before heading northwards to the Loire and crescendoing in Parisian revelry. What is so fun about these coming weeks is that you get to see wine in all of its many dimensions; from the mullets and frayed Ts of the ultra lo-fi and natty, to the blazer clad combovers of Bordeaux and Super Tuscans - it really is a multifaceted affair.

In Montpellier and Paris, the ecosystem of salons revolves around two key fairs: Millesime Bio in Montpellier (focused on organic wine) and in Paris, Wine Paris. The trade has maximised the presence of so many people coming together and has birthed a whole host of off salons. These off salons are normally home to new kids, the renegades, the natural leaning and the folks celebrating practices such as biodynamic and regenerative farming.

I am lucky to be attending these fairs with a number of different hats on, but at the core, I am searching for winemakers and wines that display originality, affordability, and quality. So, whilst this list is by no means exhaustive, these are couple regions and some grapes that I am looking forward to exploring more:

The Savoie - this mountainous Alpine region in Eastern France is an interesting one; being the last region to formally join France (leaving Italy in 1860), it wasn’t included in the first waves of formalised appellation laws that came in the early 20th century, and when phylloxera - a disease that ravaged an obscene amount of Europe vineyards - hit, the region wasn’t seen as a priory to revitalise. As such, the Savoie and its wine understandably developed in line with its tourists needs - producing quaffable, easy going wines that go well with melted cheese and mountain top restaurants.

However, luckily for all of us there is a shift occurring. Appellations have arrived and with it, a focus on 15 villages and their individual terroir and idiosyncratic qualities. As the eminent wine writer and French enthusiast Jon Bonnè says, the Savoie is « deeply pixelated, a thousand tiny vineyards tucked into valleys and along slopes… [with soils] enriched by deposits of Ice Age glaciers. » There is finally an acknowledgement of interesting and varied terroir which, paired with altitude - an alluring quality in these climates - is seeing a wave of exciting, quality vignerons pop up.

The finest wines from the Savoie capture the region's vibrant Alpine essence. The whites here are mineral-driven, mountain-fresh, and often carry a hint of herbal wildness. They evoke a sensory connection to other Alpine staples like Chartreuse, vermouth, and génépy—a true taste of the mountains.

If this sounds at all seductive to you, I highly recommend hunting down any of these grape varieties, but here are a round up of some of my favourite Alpine producers:

Jacquère | Domaine Giachino Monfarina 2022

Chasselas | Les Vignes de Paradis Un P’tit Coin de Paradis 2022

Altesse | Yves Duport Altesse de Montagnieu 2022

Gringet | Domaine du Gringet Le Feu 2022

Sexy old snow-capped peaks of Savoie

Another region that has really piqued my interested is Jurançon, nestled in the rolling foothills of a different mountain range - the Pyrenees - in the France’s Basque corner of south west France. For much of my career, when I thought of Jurançon, I thought solely of sweet wine - a style of wine which brought fame to the region. However, in the last few years, I have been drinking more and more excellent dry wine from Jurançon - in fact two of the best wines that I drank in 2024 hailed from this beautiful enclave of France. Interestingly, the region only classified its dry white wine - Jurançon Sec - production in 1975, whilst the sweet wines were some of the first classified in France, in the 1930s.

The landscape here is like something out of a romantic war-era novel; lush and verdant - a patchwork of vineyards, farmland, and dense forests - kept cool by the cool air that flows from the mountains above. It is the literal encapsulation of bucolic. The best of vineyards are peppered across the higher parts of the slopes where the soil is thinner and the resulting wines have more depth and concentration. In terms of grape varieties, they’re working with Petit Manseng and Gros Manseng. Each plays an important role, with the Petit bringing finesse and freshness, whilst the Gros brings weight and mouthfeel. In their best expressions, Jurançon Sec is a perfect balance between power and finesse; they’re mineral and deep with layered notes of honeyed flowers, quince, ripe peach and a whole lot of other deliciousness!

A few producers and cuvées that I have absolutely loved from Jurançon:

Haut Berba 2021, Le Jardin de mon Père 2022 - currently not yet available in the UK (from what I can see)

Clos Larrouyat Jurançon Sec Comète 2020

Domaine Lajibe - out of stock, but will undoubtedly land at some point in the Spring

The bucolic scenes of the Jurançon

So, there you go kids - now I am off for a few wild weeks of tastings and debauchery. I’m looking forward to sharing all of my stories and discoveries with you next month… Well, almost all of them 😏

As ever, thanks for reading x