There’s a particular cruelty to summer in wine country. Everyone tells you to slow down, to savor, to let the long days stretch like honey from a spoon. But sometimes—most times, if I’m being honest—summer has other plans. Sometimes it grabs you by the collar and drags you through a season of such intensity that by August you’re left wondering if you actually lived through it or if it lived through you.
This summer was supposed to be about settling in. Finding my rhythm in Napa. Learning to breathe a little easier after yet another cross-country move. Instead, it became something else entirely: a masterclass in discovery disguised as ordinary life. A reminder that the best summers aren’t always the most restful ones.
When you last heard from me, I was musing about an upcoming induction into middle age. It was fortunately inaugurated with Krug at golden hour, followed by a meticulous display of fine-dining precision unfolding throughout the evening like a meditation on perfection—a perfectly choreographed dance of food and wine. I then hopped on a plane to Warsaw—a city I never expected to love—which pulled me into its electric energy, where young creatives from across Eastern Europe are building something vibrant and alive.
A weekend in Lisbon brought me back to one of those friendships that leaves you feeling like you’re on the edge of something great, the kind of person who makes your own ambitions feel not just possible but inevitable. And threading through it all, the weight of my WSET Diploma studies—ninety minutes of essay questions that left me staring at a blank page, wondering if I actually knew anything about wine at all.
By the time August rolled around, I was exhausted and exhilarated in equal measure. The kind of tired that comes not from doing too little, but from doing too much of exactly what you love.
This is what I've learned about summer: it amplifies whatever restlessness already lives in you. The long days that are supposed to invite leisure instead stretch out like an invitation to fill them. I’ve never been good at sitting still, at letting time pass without trying to make something of it. Summer, with all its promise of slowness, somehow makes that restlessness worse. Maybe it’s the light that lingers past nine o’clock, or the way possibility seems to hang in the warm air like pollen. Maybe it’s knowing that somewhere, grapes are slowly ripening toward harvest, that every sunset brings us closer to crush—time moving forward whether we’re ready or not. Either way, I’m learning that fighting it might be missing the point entirely.
What’s in My Glass
Reia Brda Malavazija 2019 - Slovenia
Let me tell you about falling in love at first sip.
I was in Warsaw for work, but the city caught me completely off guard. It felt alive in a way I hadn’t expected, buzzing with young creatives, many of them young transplants from across Eastern Europe who've brought their energy and talent to a city that seems ready to embrace anything. The food scene was incredible, the shops were cooler than anything I could ever hope to see in the likes of Napa Valley, and everywhere you looked, there was this sense of possibility.
I was sitting in a wine bar that looked as if it belonged in one of the more fashionable arrondissements of Paris, when the sommelier recommended this bottle. Slovenia was barely a blip on my wine radar—but something about the way he described it made me curious.
The first bottle was corked—that unmistakable musty, wet cardboard smell that comes from TCA contamination. These things happen. But the replacement bottle that arrived fifteen minutes later was nothing short of revelatory. Orange wine done right: all the textural intrigue of skin contact without the funky barnyard notes that can turn people off the style. There was honeyed stone fruit on the nose, a saline minerality that spoke of limestone soils, and a finish that seemed to go on forever.
I bought a bottle to bring home, of course. It’s sitting in my wine fridge now, waiting for the right moment, the right meal, the right company to share it with. Because some wines are too good to drink alone.
World of Wine
What caught my eye this summer:
🐛 Phylloxera’s New Frontier: After more than a century of isolation, the devastating root louse has been detected in the Canary Islands for the first time. It’s a sobering reminder that no wine region is truly safe from this microscopic menace. → Decanter
❄️ Chilled Red Revolution: This summer’s most refreshing discovery? Red wine served cold. It sounds counterintuitive until you try a chilled Beaujolais on a 90-degree day or discover how a light Pinot Noir transforms when it hits the ice bucket. The rules about serving temperature are getting a summer makeover, and I’m here for it. → Wine Enthusiast
🇺🇸 Tariff Reality Check: Trump’s new tariffs went into effect on August 1st, hitting more than 90 countries, including major wine producers. European Union wines now face a 15% import tax—a 50% increase from the previous 10% levy. I wrote back in April about why tariffs on wine were a terrible idea, and now we’re seeing the impact firsthand. Your Saturday Sancerre and celebratory Champagne just got significantly more expensive. Even domestic producers are feeling the squeeze as French barrels and Portuguese corks cost more. → NY Times
Table Talk
Singularity in Sonoma
Few things humble you quite like sitting down to a meal that represents someone’s life’s work. At SingleThread in Healdsburg, that someone is Kyle Connaughton, and the work is nothing short of artistry. Eleven courses, each one paired with a wine that didn’t just complement the dish but completed it.
The Caroline Morey Beaune Premier Cru Les Grèves 2021 alongside the duck course was a study in harmony—earthy, elegant Pinot Noir that knew exactly when to step forward and when to fade into the background. The 2021 Domaine Brun Avril Châteauneuf-du-Pape Blanc with the Black Cod was a revelation: proof that the southern Rhône can produce whites with the same intensity and complexity as its famous reds.
And then there was the dessert wine: a 2015 magnum of Château d’Yquem. Some bottles are legends for a reason. The way it paired with that final sweet course—I'm still thinking about it weeks later.
The hospitality was as Japanese as the cuisine: precise, thoughtful, warm in a way that feels both formal and deeply personal. It’s the kind of meal that changes your baseline for what’s possible in a restaurant. The kind of experience that makes you want to plan your next visit before you’ve even finished the first.
Off the Vine
A few other things that made summer taste better:
📚 Travel Reading: My colleague in Warsaw—who happens to own one of the coolest bars in town, GiGi—gifted me a bottle of Polish Chardonnay from Winnica Turnau that I can’t wait to try. But the real discovery was Pascaline Lepeltier’s One Thousand Vines, a deeply personal and comprehensive masterpiece that I’ll be revisiting for years to come. Her perspective on natural wine and terroir has been reshaping how I think about what makes a wine authentic.
🍷 Community Kindness: Sometimes the wine world surprises you with its generosity. A few weeks ago, I got a text from my local wine shop owner: “I have some sample bottles from producers if you’re interested in training your palate.” I expected maybe a couple of Coravin vials. She handed me a case-and-a half of full bottles. American producers across the board—Napa Valley icons alongside up-and-coming Oregon winemakers experimenting with Clairette and Picpoul. It was a reminder that the Napa community takes care of its own, especially those of us still learning.
All of this got me thinking about how we discover wine. In Warsaw, it was a sommelier’s passionate recommendation that led me to Slovenia. In Lisbon, it was wandering into dusty wine shops and trusting my instincts. At SingleThread, it was surrendering to someone else’s expertise and letting them guide the experience. At home, it’s a shop owner who knows my journey and surprises me with 18 bottles of possibility.
Each discovery had a story, a human connection, a moment of serendipity that no algorithm could replicate. What if there was a way to capture that magic? That personal touch? I’ve been exploring some ideas around this—more on that soon.
But for now, I’m content to let summer settle into memory. To finally slow down long enough to taste that Slovenian orange wine. To plan my next visit to SingleThread—maybe in winter, when the menu will tell a completely different story.
Here’s to summers that surprise you, wines that transport you, and communities that support you. Sometimes the art of living well isn’t about balance. Sometimes it’s about diving headfirst into everything that makes you feel alive.
Thanks for sticking around. More soon.
— Nick
What a wonderful summary of your summer adventures thus far! Almost like we were there with you 😌!