(By Henry Crowhurst – UK / Editorial team / animated image: New South Wales Wines – Runwayml)
Wales? That’s the part of the UK that was given the Prince of Wales by the Royal Family, so that the Welsh would keep their lances and swords in the cellar. It worked a treat (apart from the miners’ strike in the early 1980s). And they were also allowed to keep their Celtic-inspired town and village names, such as “Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch” – which should be enough to put anyone off visiting this (admittedly beautiful) part of the Kingdom. Because the Welsh like it quiet – people like us just take loads of smartphone photos and get in the way. And then there’s wine here. Wine in Wales – or, to be precise, in “New South Wales”. Is that even possible? It is! And it’s even better since climate change: more sun, less rain – and the mild winters brought by the Gulf Stream.
The development of modern Welsh viticulture is a story that’s barely 50 years old. So we might think that Wales and wine have never historically had such a close relationship. But that’s not true: it’s more of an on-off affair – with interruptions.
The Romans – who else? – planted their imported vines here too, because their soldiers were the wine-loving enthusiasts of the Caesarian and Augustan eras.
The Vikings landed – and apparently found wine quite dispensable.
After the Battle of Hastings, the French brought their expertise to Wales – viticulture experienced a second ‘golden age’. However, this was under an occupying force, which gradually lost interest in growing grapes in the damp climate.
And then came Henry VIII, who nationalised Wales as a province – and brought the chapter on viticulture to a close once again. Wines in Wales – which, of course, were drunk only by the nobility and the Church – were subsequently sourced from France or Portugal for centuries. Viticulture survived – mostly for personal and village consumption – on just a few small plots.
And then: since the 1960s and 70s, more wine has been growing in Wales once again. Steadfastly, unhurriedly, with a certain defiantly Welsh tenacity. Today there is a thriving scene of wineries that regularly win awards – which, in a country with slightly more rain than is usual for wine-growing regions, can almost be regarded as a sporting achievement.
For the climate is, shall we say, character-forming – albeit increasingly milder and reminiscent of the Champagne region, as it was there back in the 1970s. In other words, Atlantic: sunshine tends to be a rare visitor, appearing only during the months useful for viticulture – which is something, at least. But, of course, it’s not exactly the natural habitat for Mediterranean wine fantasies
So here, rather than planting Cabernet Sauvignon dreams, they plant Solaris, Rondo, Bacchus and Regent. Early-ripening, robust, pragmatic. Grape varieties that can even thrive under an umbrella.
And from these rather unassuming starting points emerge surprisingly diverse wines:
Sparkling wines – often made from Seyval Blanc, a grape variety nobody else knows.
Still white wines – where Solaris can do more than its name suggests.
Still red wines – Rondo delivers the most consistent results. But it’s not really the thing here.
And even sparkling wines made from Regent, because here we’re not afraid to try out new methods.
The real difference compared to England lies in the mindset. England likes to look towards Champagne and ask: ‘Can we do that too?’ Wales is more likely to ask: ‘What’s possible here – but please, without all the fuss?’
Less imitation, more adaptation. Less prestige-driven script, more regional reality. Minimal intervention, suitable grape varieties, realistic expectations. Almost endearingly unpretentious.
Many wineries place a strong emphasis on hospitality: vineyard hotels, tastings with a view, rooms amongst the vines. At first, this sounds like a romantic weekend getaway – but it is, above all, economic logic. Because wine alone does not yet cover all its costs – and is unlikely to be able to do so for a long time to come.
A successful example of Welsh viticulture is Jabajak: a restaurant, accommodation and its own wines. Their sparkling rosé was awarded 91 points by WineGB. A Welsh rosé that’s taken seriously – thirty years ago, that would have been mistaken for a Monty Python sketch.
Other estates:
Velfrey
– bronze at WineGB for two consecutive vintages for their sparkling wine. In Britain, they call this ‘consistency’, which here sounds almost like a mark of distinction.
Vale Vineyard
– won the prize for the best ‘alternative red wine’ with a Rondo 2023. And it prevailed against English competition. One can just picture the Welsh laughing. Finally, the Brits have been beaten. And with red wine, no less!
What’s striking is this: although significantly fewer wines are entered into British competitions than in England, the proportion of award-winning Welsh wines is remarkably high. So quality here doesn’t seem to be a fluke. What’s missing, however, is recognition.
After all, English wine gets the headlines, investors and attention. Wales, on the other hand, is left with nothing but wine tourism. The industry relies heavily on hospitality and wine tours. When tourism is booming, viticulture grows too. If not, they’ll need even more of a sense of humour here in future.
So the big question is no longer: Can winemakers in Wales produce decent – and even good – wine? The ratings from WineGB and Decanter across several vintages have already answered that. The question is: Can a region that sets out on a global journey with only a small marketing budget hold its own in the wine industry in the long term?
Onwards and upwards – in wellies. 🍷