Anyone can do top 10 posts, but only the Wine Curmudgeon can end the year with what I thought were my seven best posts in 2015. These weren’t necessarily the best-read; we have Google to thank for that. Rather, these are my favorite posts of 2015, the ones that I enjoyed writing, thought were important to write, or both. But, for whatever reason, they didn’t get the attention they deserved:
• Is wine the last bastion of the snob? A discussion about why wine, despite the leveling and democratizing influences of the Internet, still attracts snobs. And with a guest appearance from New York Times film critic A.O. Scott.
• Champagne Jayne and the new censorship: How post-modern big business uses its legal and financial clout to silence those it doesn’t agree with. That hardly anyone in wine appreciated what happened to Aussie wine writer Jayne Powell this year — and that what happened to her could happen to them — is mind-boggling.
• Let the computer write the wine reviews: A look at the 21st century technology that may make it possible for artificial intelligence to put together wine reviews, which says as much about wine writing as it does about advances in artificial intelligence.
• The Wine Curmudgeon as hipster: Dude, he likes rose: Quite possibly — and I say this with all due modesty — the greatest blog post ever written about rose and its place in hipster culture. Wine can be so silly, yes?
• The Comet Lovejoy wine phenomenon: A terrific joke about the three-tier system, tucked into a bit of satire about comets and how they give off alcohol as they travel through the solar system. Wine humor the way it should be, and not as it too often is.
• Wine Spectator: If you can’t buy it, we won’t review it: My annual April Fool’s Day post, in which the Spectator comes off as only the Spectator can (and in which I refuse to be interviewed by myself).
• How to buy wine at the grocery store: Solid, hard-hitting advice about overcoming the grocery store Great Wall of Wine, which was only the 25th most read post this year. Given that this sort of thing is my reason for being, that’s quite depressing.