Rosé remains, without a doubt, the most photogenic wine — but its true charm begins beyond the image.

It is perhaps the most seductive through its versatility: the delicacy and finesse of a white wine, paired with a subtle structure, sometimes surprisingly athletic, reminiscent of reds. A perfect balance between lightness and character.

Spring is only just settling in. The air still carries a gentle chill, yet the light grows warmer, the days longer, and the mind drifts instinctively toward that first glass of rosé enjoyed in the sun.

It is more than a wine — it is a feeling you recognize before you define it.

Calabria. Between Sea, Light and Identity

After four years, I rediscovered Calabria — this time on the Ionian coast, near Cirò. Southern Italy has that rare ability to make you feel instantly at home, even when you are far away. Only the hypnotic shades of the Mediterranean remind you that you are, in fact, somewhere else.

Three days of competition. Three days of focus, refinement and discovery.

More than 55 international tasters from 20 countries evaluated over 1,100 rosé wines from 30 countries. A true snapshot of global trends and stylistic diversity.

For me, this edition also brought a premiere: serving as jury president. An honor and a responsibility I embraced with both joy and respect.

Styles, Identity and Terroir

One of the most fascinating aspects of such tastings is the moment you begin to recognize a wine — its country, sometimes even its region.

France remains the undeniable benchmark. Rosés with delicate, almost ethereal color, yet impeccable elegance and structure. Provence stands apart as a clear reference. Languedoc, Bordeaux or Corsica come close, though often with a slightly more rustic edge.

Italy made a strong impression this year, particularly Abruzzo, with two Grand Gold Medals. One of them — Talmonti Rosé 2025 — was, without exaggeration, one of the revelations of the competition.

And what made this experience even more meaningful for me is that two of the official revelations of the competition were evaluated within my own panel.

The second comes from Romania — Issa Pinot Noir Rosé 2025 — a wine that clearly confirms the direction and growing confidence of Romanian rosé on the international stage.

Romania entered 51 samples and achieved 17 medals — a 33% success rate.
More than a result, this is validation. A presence that can no longer be overlooked.

Rosé, Between Trend and Emotion

It is true — rosé is no longer riding the same consumption wave it enjoyed before the pandemic. Yet it retains its charm. And, more importantly, its relevance.

Because rosé is not just about trends. It is about moments. About light. About atmosphere. About that subtle feeling that summer begins just a little earlier — in a glass.

Competitions like the Concours Mondial de Bruxelles are not only about medals or rankings. They are about direction. About how tastes evolve, how identities take shape, and who dares to step outside the expected.

For me, rosé remains the beginning of every season.
And, each time, a promise.

Since 2014, when I first took part, this competition has been, for me, the definition of consistency. Almost ritual-like, year after year, we would meet in the same place: the hotel at Borsigturm, near Lake Tegel, in a part of Berlin that felt almost provincial—quiet, calm, far removed from the city’s intensity. It was more than just a location. It was a familiar rhythm, a routine, a family. The family remained. But in 2026, for the first time, the setting changed.

The move to Alexanderplatz felt like a subtle disruption to a long-standing tradition. From a nearly contemplative area, we suddenly found ourselves in the heart of the city, within walking distance of Berlin’s major landmarks. A larger hotel, a more generous tasting space, more movement, more energy. We gathered again, but on that first evening we missed the instinct of familiar places. It took time to recalibrate, to find our rhythm again—including one of the most cherished rituals: sharing the wines we each bring from home, among colleagues, friends, and, ultimately, this extended family that defines the BWT jury. Then the four days of judging began.

This year again, I served as team leader for one of the panels—a role I’m well acquainted with, yet one that consistently demands precision and discipline. Beyond the logistics—verifying samples, aligning bottles with the system, ensuring each wine is assessed—the role requires a constant exercise in objectivity. At Berliner Wine Trophy, preference is irrelevant; only quality matters. A wine must be evaluated for what it is, not for whether it aligns with personal taste. Even when it doesn’t.

The overall quality this year made that easier. Faults were notably rare—arguably the lowest I’ve encountered across editions. Each day, around 50 wines guided us through a diverse European landscape and beyond, offering a shared, focused tasting experience within the panel.

Across the four days, several wines stood out at Grand Gold level—wines of precision, balance and clear regional identity. Among them: a German Spätburgunder, a refined Grauburgunder–Weissburgunder blend, a 2019 Champagne, two Argentine Malbecs (2023 and 2017), a Chilean Cabernet–Carmenère blend and a Portuguese Touriga Nacional from 2019. Notably, none were sweet or fortified—categories that often impress immediately. Instead, these were dry wines, defined by structure, complexity and a strong sense of origin.

A particularly compelling flight was formed by the Romanian wines—dry whites. Out of 17 samples, one was returned due to cork taint and replaced with a second bottle, which was ultimately assessed by another panel. The remaining wines performed with confidence: 3 Silver Medals, and all others Gold. Fetească varieties showed clarity, balance and expressive character, while a Tămâioasă Românească came remarkably close to Grand Gold level. Careful not to appear biased, I found that my fellow judges were, in fact, even more generous in their scoring—an encouraging signal that Romania’s indigenous varieties are gaining well-deserved recognition and should sit at the core of a coherent promotion strategy.

On a broader level, the 2024 vintage in Europe appears challenging. The impact of climate change is increasingly visible: wines remain correct and typologically accurate, yet occasionally with a more restrained aromatic profile. In contrast, early impressions from 2025 suggest greater freshness and accessibility. Another notable shift: fewer rosé wines than in previous years—perhaps a sign of a softening trend—alongside a strong presence of Pinot Noir in multiple expressions. The direction seems clear: a growing preference for lighter, fruit-driven reds, with minimal oak influence.

Beyond the competition itself, the experience was enhanced by something simple: the weather. Warm temperatures allowed us to begin with a beer on a terrace just next to the hotel—one of the small but meaningful advantages of the new location. And the real surprise came on a Tuesday evening, when, without expectations, we discovered live music and found ourselves in one of the most memorable moments of this edition.

Because, in the end, Berliner Wine Trophy is not just about wine. It is about people, encounters, shared experiences—and that rare sense that, wherever it moves, the family remains the same. And sometimes, change simply confirms it.

Whenever things do not go as they should, the search for someone to blame begins. Producers did not mobilize in time. Authorities delayed procedures. Tenders were launched too late. Budgets are annual. Deadlines are strict. Each argument contains a measure of truth. And yet, if we look more closely, the problem is never purely administrative. The real issue is that we fail to function together.

Export is not an exercise in individual pride, nor is it a short sprint. It is a long-term construction. It requires consistency, trust, and collective accountability. Instead, in our sector, there is always someone convinced they can do better alone than through an associative structure. Perhaps the intentions are good. Perhaps the energy is genuine. But representing an entire industry cannot be done individually, under a private company, no matter how well intended the effort may be.

Romanian wine is not an isolated product. It is the image of a country. And an image cannot be renegotiated from one year to the next, depending on budgets or egos.

In 2017, at Vinexpo Bordeaux, Romania left behind an unpaid invoice and a bitter aftertaste. At the time, we said it was an accident, an unfortunate administrative decision, a lesson that would not be repeated. Nine years have passed. It is now 2026. We like to believe we have matured. And yet the vulnerabilities remain the same. Budgetary rigidity, public procurement procedures, fiscal constraints are invoked. All of them are real and well known. Precisely for that reason, they should be integrated into a stable, predictable mechanism. If the wine sector is considered strategic, then external promotion cannot depend on improvisation or fragile coordination between institutions and producers.

But the sector itself is not without responsibility. Associations are not sufficiently consolidated, producers struggle to formulate a coherent common strategy, and mutual trust remains limited. Individual agendas prevail, and the collective reputation ultimately pays the price.

At Wine Paris, a stand is not merely an exhibition space. It is a statement. It is our business card. In an industry where perception carries enormous weight, the way you present yourself determines whether you are seen as a serious partner or an accidental presence. From a fiscal standpoint, budget differences may not seem dramatic. From an image standpoint, however, they can be decisive.

The uncomfortable reality is that the Romanian wine sector is smaller than it appears and more vulnerable than we like to admit. Around it lies fierce competition, saturated markets, pressure on pricing and positioning. Without a shared strategy and coherent institutional support, each producer remains alone in a disproportionate battle.

The state rightly says it needs concrete proposals from the sector. The sector, equally justified, says it needs predictability and genuine support. Between these two expectations, time passes and opportunities are lost. This is not a matter of a single guilty party. It is a matter of collective maturity.

Romania’s representation at a fair such as Wine Paris cannot be left to chance, nor informally delegated to isolated initiatives, however well intentioned. A clear framework is needed, with transparent criteria and a mechanism that offers equal opportunities to both large and small producers. Political accountability is required, but so is internal cohesion. Otherwise, we will continue to repeat the same scenario: excitement before the fair, tension during organization, justifications afterward. And the image of Romanian wine will remain suspended between potential and reality.

Perhaps Wine Paris 2026 is not a failure, but another signal. A signal that we can no longer postpone the professionalization of our external representation. That we can no longer function in fragments. That we can no longer treat image as a detail. Because in the world of wine, image is the beginning of trust. And trust is hard to build and easy to lose.

The question is no longer who is to blame. The question is whether we will have the clarity to sit at the same table — producers, associations, authorities — and finally build something together.

Chris Howard speaks about this distinction with a clarity that makes you stop and reflect. There is a subtle but essential difference between thinking about wine and thinking with wine. In the first case, wine becomes an object. In the second, it becomes an experience. A pretext for paying closer attention to what you feel, what you perceive, what happens inside you. (“Rethinking wine means shifting from thinking about wine to thinking with wine.”)

Maybe that’s why conversations about wine can no longer be separated from the way we live and consume—especially in a context where the numbers tell one story, and the reality in the glass sometimes tells another.

Statistically, Romania produces around four million hectoliters of wine. It sounds impressive. But if we look more closely, we see that the volume of certified wine that actually reaches the market, according to ONVPV data, is under one million hectoliters per year. The gap between these figures says a lot about market fragmentation, self-consumption, wine that never enters commercial circulation, and how small the visible part of the industry truly is.

At the same time, shelves are filling up with imported wines. Italy, France, and Spain lead the way, joined increasingly by the Republic of Moldova. Correct, consistent wines—sometimes surprisingly affordable. Wines that ask little of the consumer and require little emotional involvement. You buy them, you drink them, you move on.

In this context, Romanian wine finds itself in a delicate position. It can no longer compete on price alone, yet it has not fully built a coherent narrative around identity, meaning, and distinction. And the consumer, caught between promotions and quick recommendations, often ends up choosing by reflex rather than conviction. Perhaps the real problem isn’t a lack of quality, but a lack of attention.

Because wine asks for time. It asks for stillness. It asks for the willingness to notice not only what’s in the glass, but what happens inside you as you drink it. What draws your attention. What moves you. What you rush to judge. What you miss.

Maybe this is where the idea of A Glass of Wine a Day truly begins: with the desire to slow down and become more conscious in our relationship with wine. Not as an automatic gesture, not as a daily checkbox, but as a moment of real attention. A glass that doesn’t demand haste, but presence. That doesn’t come with answers, but with questions.

Because when you start drinking wine this way, something changes. Not only in how you choose a bottle, but in how you relate to taste, to time, to value. And at that point, the difference between a Romanian wine and an imported one is no longer just a matter of price or origin, but of relationship.

Perhaps the future of wine doesn’t lie in bigger volumes or more aggressive promotions. Perhaps it lies in this return to attention. To the simple act of being present. To the courage to feel, not just to evaluate. And if there is one direction truly worth exploring in the years to come, maybe it is this: learning, once again, to drink wine as humans—not as algorithms.

The November light in Sicily has little in common with the blaze of summer. It’s softer, rounder, yet carries the quiet assurance of a place that has watched centuries pass. It settles on old facades, hidden courtyards and sun-worn stone as if continuing a conversation begun long before us. Palermo felt unusually gentle that week — almost summery, wrapped in warm air, clear skies and a golden glow that gave the city the illusion of a lingering September. No rain, no chill, none of the grey we associate with November back home. Everything moved at an easy, sunlit rhythm, as if the city were preparing us, almost imperceptibly, for what we were about to taste.

In the heart of the city, Palazzo Branciforte opened its doors to the encounters that would frame the story of modern Sicily. A Renaissance palace with the austere nobility of its former centuries, now reborn as a cultural space, it proved the perfect setting to understand an island in the midst of redefining itself. Within its cool rooms and high ceilings, Sicily began to reveal its new voice.

Sicily Between Tradition and Transformation — From Terroir to Responsibility

Today, Sicily is one of Italy’s largest and most dynamic appellations, a viticultural mosaic where tradition alone is no longer enough. Climate change isn’t an abstract notion here — it is a daily reality: rising temperatures, persistent drought, scorching summers, pressure on soils, pressure on people.

DOC Sicilia chose not to respond with nostalgia but with strategy. And that strategy has a name: SOStain, the Sicilian sustainability foundation reshaping the island’s entire approach to viticulture — from integrated and organic agriculture to reduced water and energy use, soil protection, full traceability and a strong return to biodiversity.

After the symposium, over a quiet glass of wine, Antonio Rallo — president of the Consortium and owner of Donnafugata — explained to me with disarming clarity that SOStain is not a marketing slogan but Sicily’s survival manual. The way he spoke about soil, water and vine betrayed the responsibility of someone who knows that the future of wine begins with small gestures, repeated patiently over years. For him, sustainability isn’t a trend — it is a lifeline.

And here lies the surprise: Sicily doesn’t simply want to remain relevant.
It wants to become a global model of sustainability, despite the challenges.

The Three Pillars of the Sicilian Temple: Lucido, Grillo, Nero d’Avola

The first masterclass explored foundations — what truly defines Sicily at its core. The three grapes in focus — Catarratto (Lucido), Grillo and Nero d’Avola — felt like essential chapters of the island’s identity, reinterpreted through a modern lens.

Lucido (Catarratto)
Long considered a workhorse variety, it appeared here as a revelation. High-altitude Lucido shows a brightness that evokes cool mornings rather than southern heat: notes of pink grapefruit, green apple, white peach and a delicate marine salinity. In versions aged on fine lees, the texture deepens, gaining a quiet elegance that needs no showmanship. A deeply underestimated grape with remarkable potential.

Grillo
If Lucido is tradition, Grillo is freedom. A chameleon of a grape, capable of swinging between tropical warmth and saline, zesty freshness depending on where and how it’s grown. In the glasses before us, Grillo moved from citrus-driven verticality to richer, more exotic expressions. A versatile grape, perfectly tuned to the needs of a changing climate.

Nero d’Avola
The undisputed monarch of Sicilian reds. Here, it combined blackberries, cherries and subtle spice with surprising freshness and silky tannins. Nero d’Avola is no longer the heavy, rustic red of decades past — it has become a refined, altitude-friendly wine that keeps its soul while evolving in style.

Hidden Treasures: Inzolia, Zibibbo, Frappato, Perricone

The second masterclass felt like the poetic counterpoint to the first — a deep dive into the island’s quiet, unexpected diversity.

Inzolia
Graceful, calm, understated. Citrus, almond, mango and a faint herbal whisper. A sunlit grape, but never exuberant — always balanced.

Zibibbo (Muscat of Alexandria)
The scent of eternal summer: white peach, jasmine, pineapple — yet surprisingly crisp and dry on the palate. The room softened noticeably with this wine; it’s hard not to smile when Zibibbo is done well.

Frappato
Playful, ruby-red, aromatic. Strawberries, raspberries, violets. Whisper-light tannins. The kind of red you drink chilled, fast, and cheerfully — more terrace happiness than classroom discipline.

Perricone
A rediscovered native, with firm tannins, wild herbs, pink peppercorn and dark fruit. It brought welcome depth to the line-up — a reminder that Sicily is not only pleasure, but also gravitas.

Sicily’s Tomorrow Is Being Written Today

The masterclasses were more than tastings; they were lessons in adaptation, identity and evolution. Inside the cool rooms of Palazzo Branciforte, I understood why Sicily is not merely an island of the past — it is an island of the future.

Sicilian wines are no longer “wines of the sun.”
They are wines of altitude, of precision, of vision.

Lucido transforms into a mineral, crystalline white.
Grillo rises as the island’s modern superstar.
Nero d’Avola becomes elegance rather than power.
Inzolia, Zibibbo, Frappato, Perricone — each finds its new voice in a Sicily reinventing itself.

And behind all these wines lies a shared philosophy:
sustainability isn’t a trend; it’s the only way forward.

When I stepped out of the palazzo, the November light still lingered on the city, and the aroma of freshly tasted wines clung softly to the air. That’s when I understood the true allure of Sicily: it is not an island living in the shadow of its glorious past, but one entirely committed to the present it is building — a present more daring than many wine regions in the world.

Sicily is not reinventing itself. Sicily is evolving — and inviting us to witness its future.

Guadalajara – The Cultural Heartbeat of Jalisco

The journey begins in Guadalajara, a city where tradition and modernity dance in perfect harmony. With its baroque architecture, colorful markets, and the ever-present sound of mariachi, Guadalajara embodies Mexico’s generous soul.

Our first evening began with a welcome cocktail at the Governor’s Residence — a majestic colonial palace filled with cultural artifacts and murals narrating Jalisco’s history. In its vast inner courtyard, under the soft glow of lanterns, we were welcomed with local delicacies and our first sips of tequila — the ideal prologue to understanding this land of warmth and craftsmanship.

Valle del Tequila – A UNESCO Heritage of Spirit and Soil

An hour away from Guadalajara, the landscape opens into an amphitheater of bluish hills covered in agave. This is Paisaje Agavero y Valle del Tequila, recognized by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site.

The town of Tequila, with its cobbled streets, colonial houses and historic distilleries, offers a complete immersion into the universe of Mexico’s national drink. Each distillery has its own story – some preserve traditional methods using stone ovens and tahona wheels pulled by mules, while others impress with contemporary technology and interactive tours.

The route includes the towns of Amatitán, El Arenal, Magdalena, Ahualulco de Mercado, Etzatlán and Teuchitlán, each with a distinct identity. In Teuchitlán lies the Guachimontones Archaeological Zone, a unique circular complex and proof of a pre-Hispanic civilization that first cultivated the agave plant.

Beyond tastings, the region offers authentic gastronomy in restaurants such as La Cueva de Don Cenobio and La Antigua Casona, and accommodation experiences in historical haciendas like Hacienda El Carmen and Solar de las Ánimas.

New tourism projects announced for 2026 – including the La Familia Rivera Trail in Teuchitlán and My Quetzal Trail in Amatitán – will further enrich the experience with themed tours, mixology, gastronomy and outdoor adventure.

Los Altos del Tequila – Where Tradition Meets Elegance

To the northeast, at altitudes above 1,500 meters, lies Los Altos de Jalisco – a region known for its elegant tequilas with floral aromas and a silky texture. The red, iron-rich soil and cooler climate define the distinct style of tequilas produced here, and locals proudly call it “the land with a soul.”

The Los Altos del Tequila Route crosses the towns of Arandas, Atotonilco el Alto, Tepatitlán de Morelos, Ayotlán, Acatic and San Ignacio Cerro Gordo – forming a triangle of distilleries, haciendas and charro traditions, Mexico’s national equestrian heritage.

Distillery tours such as Tequila Don Julio (Atotonilco el Alto), Campo Azul (Jesús María) and San Matías (Acatic) offer visitors a complete experience – from walking through agave fields to guided tastings and farm-to-table gastronomic pairings.

Culinary offerings here are equally refined, from Bramido and Casa Trujillo in Tepatitlán to La Regina 1904 in Arandas. The local cuisine blends terroir ingredients – corn, beans, beef and artisanal cheeses – with tequila or raicilla pairings, creating a contemporary reinterpretation of tradition.

Haciendas transformed into boutique hotels, such as Hacienda Vieja (Arandas) or Casa Naranjos (Tepatitlán), offer colonial charm and modern comfort, ideal for cultural and gastronomic tourism.

Raicilla – The Hidden Gem of Jalisco

Beyond tequila, Jalisco brings another spirit into the spotlight: Raicilla, a distillate with its own Denomination of Origin. Produced mainly in the coastal and mountain regions, Raicilla embodies a 300-year-old artisanal tradition.

Made from various species of agave, this handcrafted spirit combines ancestral methods – roasting the agave hearts in clay ovens, natural fermentation, and distillation in copper or clay stills. Raicilla has a surprising aromatic profile, with earthy, wild herb and tropical fruit notes, and a delicate mineral finish.

The recognition of its Denomination of Origin in 2019 has brought Raicilla international attention, while the Ruta de la Raicilla and Ruta Costalegre offer visitors the opportunity to discover the small producers who keep this ancient craft alive.

Puerto Vallarta – Where the Mountains Meet the Sea

The journey ends on the Pacific coast, in Puerto Vallarta, a destination that blends Mexican spirit with modern sophistication. The resort town is a meeting point between ocean, mountains and culture, offering a mix of fine dining, adventure tourism and authentic hospitality.

The beaches of Costalegre, from Chamela to Careyes, invite both relaxation and exploration – through fishing villages, nature reserves and beachfront bars where cocktails made with Tequila and Raicilla have become iconic.

A Journey Through the True Taste of Mexico

From Guadalajara to Puerto Vallarta, Jalisco offers more than a route — it offers a revelation. Every city, every distillery, every dish tells a story about people, land, and legacy. Here, authenticity isn’t a marketing term; it’s a way of life. Jalisco is a place to taste, to listen, and to feel — because in Mexico, flavor always comes with a story.

A Spirit with a Secret Past

Raicilla was born in the 17th century, when local producers sought to escape the heavy colonial taxes on agave distillates. To disguise it, they called it “raicilla” — “little root” — implying it came from the plant’s roots rather than its heart.
But behind that humble name stood centuries of craft. Indigenous people of western Mexico had already been cooking agave (maguey) long before Spanish colonization. The word mezcal itself comes from the Nahuatl mexcalli — “cooked maguey” — a reminder that these spirits predate the modern state and even the nation itself.

In Jalisco, this ancestral knowledge merged with the distilling techniques brought from Asia through the Manila Galleon trade route (1565–1815). Ships sailing from the Philippines to Acapulco carried not only spices and silk, but also the art of distillation. When that knowledge reached the mountains of Jalisco, it fused with local tradition — and Raicilla was born.

From “Vino Mezcal” to Denomination of Origin

By the 1800s, agave spirits were known generically as vino mezcal, produced across a wide region that included Tequila.
Historical records show that by 1887, over 60 million agaves were being cultivated, yielding 100,000 barrels of mezcal wine.
But Raicilla took a different path. Produced in remote highlands and coastal villages, often outside the law, it remained a rural secret — passed from generation to generation in small tabernas.

It wasn’t until 2019 that Raicilla received its own Denomination of Origin (DO), covering 16 municipalities in Jalisco and one in Nayarit. After three centuries of hiding, the “little root” had finally earned its name in history.

The Taste of Place

Raicilla is more than a drink — it’s a conversation with the land.
Depending on where it’s made, its character shifts dramatically:

• Raicilla de la Sierra comes from the temperate, mineral-rich highlands around Mascota and San Sebastián del Oeste, made mostly from Agave maximiliana and inaequidens. These are floral, herbaceous, with crisp acidity — the mountain air bottled.
• Raicilla de la Costa is born in the warm, humid Pacific lowlands near El Tuito and Tomatlán, where Agave angustifolia and rhodacantha thrive. Here, the flavors are rounder, fruitier, with whispers of mango, sea breeze and smoke.

I still remember tasting a Sierra-style Raicilla in a small distillery Taberna Tres Gallos. It had notes of pine and citrus, with a faint trace of smoke and salt. There was something profoundly human in it — imperfect, alive, and honest.

Craft and Chemistry

Despite its rustic charm, Raicilla is a marvel of natural chemistry.
When agave piñas are roasted, their complex inulin break down into simple sugars; during fermentation, wild yeasts transform them into alcohols and aromatic esters; and distillation in clay or copper stills concentrates those volatile compounds into a rich, textured spirit.

Each stage adds complexity:

• Roasting creates caramelized, smoky notes.
• Fermentation yields fruit and spice aromas.
• Distillation refines texture and structure.

Most Raicillas are bottled between 40–50% ABV, unaged (joven) to preserve purity. Some are aged in oak barrels (reposado or añejo) or matured in glass (madurada en vidrio), softening the edges and introducing tones of vanilla, dried fruit and spice.

The Human Scale of Production

Unlike tequila, Raicilla remains proudly artisanal.
There are only about 82 registered distilleries, producing roughly 650,000 liters per year — a fraction of the industrial tequila output. The ecosystem is intimate: farmers, distillers and families working side by side, cultivating around 1,100 hectares of agave.

About 70% of Raicilla comes from Agave maximiliana, a species that grows wild on the steep slopes of the Sierra Madre Occidental. Harvesting it is not industrial — it’s personal. Each plant matures for 8 to 12 years before it’s cut, roasted in earthen ovens, and fermented under open skies.

It’s this connection to time and place that gives Raicilla its soul. You can taste the patience, the weather, the altitude.

Tasting Raicilla: A Personal Moment

Due to Spirits Selection by CMB, surrounded by experts from all over the world, I found myself in front of a glass that defied expectations. Unlike tequila’s clean precision or mezcal’s smoky intensity, Raicilla seemed wilder — its aromas unfolding slowly, unpredictably. Notes of wild herbs, citrus peel, sun-warmed earth, and a faint saltiness that lingered on the palate. It reminded me of why we travel for taste: to find authenticity. Raicilla isn’t polished; it’s pure. It speaks of mountains, fire, and people who never stopped believing that tradition has a place in modernity.

From Hidden Past to Bright Future

Today, Raicilla stands proudly alongside tequila and mezcal as one of Mexico’s great spirits.
The Ruta de la Raicilla, launched by the Jalisco Tourism Board, invites travelers to visit its tabernas, meet distillers, and experience the landscape behind each bottle — mountains shrouded in mist, clay ovens smoldering with agave fibers, and families who turn nature into culture.

For me, Raicilla is more than a rediscovery — it’s a reminder.
That authenticity survives when people care.
That every sip can carry centuries of memory.
And that sometimes, the smallest roots grow into the strongest traditions.

Spirits Selection by CMB 2025: Between Competition and Discovery

The town of Tequila in Mexico is not only a place with an emblematic name, but also a symbol of a tradition that has conquered the world. This September, it hosted the 27th edition of the Spirits Selection by Concours Mondial de Bruxelles – one of the most prestigious international competitions dedicated to spirits.

Over the course of three days, 140 judges from 45 countries embarked on a true marathon of diversity: 2,598 entries, representing 70 countries and divided into 64 categories, including six new ones dedicated to lesser-known traditional spirits – from India’s Mahua to Mexico’s Sotol and Cyprus’ Zivania. These numbers illustrate the globalization of spirits, but the experience of judging goes far beyond statistics.

Day One – Grapes, Terroir, and Heritage

My panel was made up of five members – four women and one man, a colleague from Denmark who specializes mainly in sugarcane-based distillates. We were surprised to discover that, despite our different cultural backgrounds and professional experiences, our preferences often aligned.

The first day focused on grape-based spirits: Pisco from Peru and Chile, Rakija from Bulgaria, Unaged Grappa from Italy, and finally, the elegance of a refined Cognac from France. It was a day where terroir spoke powerfully, with each glass carrying traditions that span centuries.

Day Two – From Mysterious Gins to No/Lo Aperitifs

The second day took us on a whirlwind tour around the world. We began with citrus-flavored gins, difficult to pinpoint – they could have originated anywhere. We then moved on to Mezcal, the distinctly Mexican spirit with smoky character, before engaging in lively debates over the provenance of Agricultural & Cane Juice Rhum. Was it Madeira, the Caribbean, or another exotic country? Impossible to say with certainty.

Perhaps the most challenging session of the day was the No/Lo aperitifs. A boundless category, where producers’ creativity was reflected in vibrant colors, unexpected aromas, and unconventional styles. We ended the evening with Kaolang, a Taiwanese Baijiu that impressed us with its intensity and complexity.

Day Three – Global Whisky and Herbal Elixirs

The final day was once again an exotic journey. We began with a World Blended Whisky, moved on to a French Single Malt, and then discovered, to our delight, Slivovitz – the famous plum spirit, pronounced exactly as it is written.

This was followed by a series of sweet and intensely aromatic herbal liqueurs – mint, eucalyptus, Mediterranean herbs – reminiscent of medicinal tonics, both invigorating and fragrant. The competition closed in spectacular fashion with a Sauce Aroma Baijiu, an authentic expression of Chinese tradition.

Beyond Tasting – The Spirit of the Competition

What makes Spirits Selection unique is not only the diversity or quality of the entries, but also the working atmosphere: carefully calibrated sessions, impeccable organization, and judging panels designed to reflect global diversity. Every sample is blind-tasted with rigor and attention, ensuring that the medals awarded truly stand as benchmarks of quality.

But the competition also offers producers a powerful tool for promotion and visibility. Winning a medal here means more than professional recognition: it brings tangible market advantages – increased trust among distributors, access to new export markets, international media exposure, and, often, a boost in sales.

In addition, Spirits Selection serves as a genuine networking platform. Producers connect with experts, communicators, importers, and retailers, while their stories travel further through the voices of judges and organizers. The competition builds bridges between cultures and markets, between tradition and innovation.

A Global Showcase for Tradition and Innovation

Ultimately, what remains is not just the tasting notes, but the image of a competition that brings together worlds, continents, and cultures in a single place. Spirits Selection by CMB is more than a medal podium: it is a stage where tradition meets innovation, where small and large producers alike join in a shared dialogue.

In Tequila, Mexico, I rediscovered not only the strength of an emblematic drink, but also the beauty of an international community of professionals united by the same passion. I left with the feeling that every glass we tasted was, in fact, a story told in the universal language of spirits.

Still, what makes each trip here truly special are the people. Over the years, my fellow judges—coming from every corner of the world—have become like a family. In fact, I often see them more than my own relatives. With them I share not just wines and tastings, but also small urban adventures, long walks, late-night conversations, and the simple joy of being together.

This year, before dinner, we began with something quite unexpected for Berlin: a visit to a sake brewery. Marie, a dear friend and sake educator at WSET, welcomed us into a newly opened brewhouse next to a cozy sake bar. There we met the producer himself, who walked us through each step of the process—faithful to Japanese tradition but using rice imported from Italy by his own family. We tasted several styles of sake, including a sparkling one, and for a moment stepped into a completely different world—delicate, aromatic, and just as complex as wine. It was the perfect prelude to what would become a memorable evening.

For several years now, it has become our tradition to close one of the competition days with a special dinner in a surprising location. In 2025, our choice was Merold, a restaurant in East Berlin. Getting there is a small adventure in itself: the competition takes place in the west of the city, near Lake Tegel, so the journey by U-Bahn to the center can take almost an hour. Sometimes we go by bike, other times we stroll along the quiet lakeside paths, but the truth is, in Berlin even the journey feels like part of the experience.

At Merold, a creative and daring menu was waiting for us. Pairing a dinner for a table full of wine judges is never an easy task, but the team rose to the challenge. Only one natural wine sparked a heated discussion—the kind of wine that could easily mislead a newcomer into thinking it represents the whole category.

As for the dishes, they were unforgettable: radishes with yogurt and cheese, grilled cauliflower with oil and blackcurrants, shallots sautéed with garlic and dark flour, guinea fowl ravioli with bacon “orecchiette,” and finally, a refreshing dessert—gooseberry ice cream. Each course told its own story, each bite revealed a new layer.

And, as always, I realized that the real beauty of these evenings lies not only in the food or the wines, but in the people gathered around the table. In the laughter that comes out of nowhere, in the memories shared, in the plans made for the future.

That, for me, is what Berlin truly means: beyond the competition, beyond the wines, it’s about the joy of reunion, the friendships that grow stronger every year, and the certainty that this city never lets you leave empty-handed. Each time, you take something with you—a story, a memory, a smile that lingers long after the plane or train has taken you away.

Berlin always has something special that draws you in and makes you want to return. It is a vibrant city where, alongside history and art, you also find one of the most important international wine competitions: the Berliner Wine Trophy, held twice a year. My first participation was in 2014, and since then I have grown, learned, and refined my skills, eventually becoming a team leader (panel chair), coordinating a tasting panel.

The competition itself consists of four days of intensive tastings, each organized into several series of wines. Every series shares a common theme: they may come from the same country, the same grape variety, or related varieties from different regions. This format allows you to quickly form an understanding of a vintage’s typicity or the evolving trends in wine styles.

A relevant example: all red wines from the 2024 vintage were fruit-forward, unoaked, and without barrel ageing – approachable, juicy, easy to pair, yet full of personality.

The Cuvée series, whether white or red, always presents a challenge. Guessing the country of origin is not easy, and that is what makes it exciting. In another series dedicated to Chardonnay, I bet on Eastern Europe – and was right: the wines came from Hungary.

Italy remains a reliable benchmark, a country you can always count on for diversity and quality. I “traveled” through its wines: from Sicily with Catarratto, to Piemonte with Arneis, through Friuli, Veneto, Soave, Marche, and Tuscany with Trebbiano (Turbiano), Ribolla Gialla, Garganega, and Verdicchio, and back to Sicily with Carricante. All displayed freshness, floral and fruity notes, and lively acidity – exactly what you want on a warm summer day.

A standout moment was the series dedicated to Cortese, a regal selection of Gavi – the perfect wine to enjoy by the sea. Among the white wines, the Pinot Gris (Grauburgunder) series from Germany deserves mention – a revelation for its personality and structure, despite being considered a neutral grape. It may seem rustic in its first year, but it evolves beautifully and reaches perfection after 3–4 years. Gold medals were awarded generously.

For the red wines, global trends were confirmed: intense fruit aromas, unoaked, elegant, and easy to drink. This is a style I personally prefer. The most spectacular was Tempranillo from 2024 and 2023, sometimes blended with Graciano or Garnacha. Italy and Spain were the stars of the competition.

There were also surprises: red wines from Cyprus, introduced by our Cypriot colleague. Indigenous varieties such as Yiannoudi, Ofthalmo, and Maratheftiko (vintages 2018–2022) impressed with aromas of dark fruits, aromatic herbs, and spices.

Participating in the Berliner Wine Trophy is always a valuable experience – not only for the wines tasted, but also for the people you meet and for seeing international trends confirmed. It was a true pleasure to work alongside my fellow panel members, whose professionalism, attention to detail, and collaborative spirit made every tasting both rigorous and enjoyable. I am also grateful to the organizers, who provided perfect conditions for evaluation and a welcoming environment for all participants. This experience reaffirmed that the success of a wine competition relies on a dedicated team and passionate people. The Berliner Wine Trophy remains a benchmark in the wine world, and the 2025 edition was no exception.

Studying the Fetească Neagră from Lacerta in depth confirmed something I had long suspected: that this indigenous Romanian grape, when treated with understanding and care, can tell stories of rare beauty. And that the Dealu Mare region—literally “The Big Hill,” Romania’s most prestigious red wine appellation—is where this variety truly comes into its own.

Though Fetească Neagră (pronounced fe-TEASK-ah NEAH-grah) is cultivated in several regions across Romania and Moldova, it’s in Dealu Mare, with its iron-rich reddish soils, southern exposure and long ripening season, that it achieves the deepest expression of its character. The region’s terroir, shaped by hills, warm summers and cool nights, brings balance and structure to a grape that can be temperamental in the vineyard and complex in the cellar.

Lacerta Winery, located in the village of Fințești, has become one of the leading names in modern Romanian winemaking. Here, Fetească Neagră is not rushed or forced into international styles—it is guided, gently, to reveal what the land and the year have given. Fermentation takes place in temperature-controlled stainless steel tanks, with minimal mechanical stress. Part of the wine is then matured in carefully selected Romanian oak barrels usually used. These barrels don’t overpower the wine—they accompany it. They add finesse, depth, and a slow rhythm to the evolution of fruit, tannin, and spice.

Over the course of ten years and ten vintages—2011 to 2022—Lacerta’s Fetească Neagră has shown remarkable stylistic consistency while reflecting the individuality of each harvest. The 2012 vintage, shaped by prolonged drought, gave concentrated wines with black fruit, dried plums and a subtle, iron-like minerality. 2016 was all about balance: bright acidity, supple tannins, complex aromas of dark cherries, sweet spices and bittersweet chocolate. And 2022, a standout vintage, produced a wine that’s both fresh and structured, with excellent potential for aging.

Even in more challenging years like 2014 or 2020, marked by climatic extremes, Lacerta succeeded in crafting wines that are coherent and honest, true to their vintage and varietal identity. That’s no small feat for a grape as demanding as Fetească Neagră.

Organoleptically, the wine is intense in color—deep ruby in its youth, turning garnet with age. The aromatic profile is generous and layered: ripe black fruits (blackberries, plums, black cherries), dried fig, coffee, leather and a touch of dark chocolate. On the palate, it is velvety and expansive, with a fine-tuned balance between acidity and tannin. The finish is long, elegant and slightly earthy, echoing the mineral tension of the Dealu Mare terroir.

Pairing this wine invites creativity. It shines next to duck breast with sour cherry sauce, slow-cooked beef stews, hard aged cheeses or even a rustic dessert with dried fruits and cinnamon. But perhaps the best pairing is a quiet evening among friends who know how to listen—to each other, and to the wine.

What remains after a glass—or a bottle—of Lacerta’s Fetească Neagră is more than just the satisfaction of a well-made wine. It is the feeling of having been part, even for a moment, of a deeper story. A story about place, about patience, and about a native grape that, when given time and attention, can truly rise to excellence.

Lacerta’s wines are the result of a vision that blends scientific rigor with emotional intuition. Behind that vision stands Mihai Baniță, the estate’s chief oenologist, whose steady hand and deep understanding of both the grape and the land have shaped every vintage. He approaches winemaking with precision, restraint, and an instinct for elegance. Under his winemaking skills, Lacerta has become a benchmark not only for Fetească Neagră, but for what modern Romanian winemaking can achieve when tradition meets innovation.

Photo credit: www.lacertawinery.ro & myself