‘Rolling all of Wales’ talent and natural resources into the same conversation as England misses the point ’

Wales isn’t a regional subset, satellite story or quaint Celtic footnote to England’s impressive rise in the wine world.

Yet statistics can blur borders, so Wales is all too often folded into England during ‘home turf’ conversations.

But treating Welsh and English wine as the same thing distorts the viewpoint and, in doing so, fails to accurately represent what’s happening on the ground.

The list of differences between the Welsh and English wine scenes is long, but it largely boils down to culture, terroir and mindset.

Each of these alone makes a strong case for separate wine identities, but add them together and any conflation of these two nations’ wines seems both laughable and lazy.

Let’s start with culture. The lack of any modern wine legacy in Wales has turned out to be a gift.

Without the pressure to replicate traditional method wines or chase chalk-soil land or headlines, Welsh producers are following the path that best suits their situation and place.

This, together with the lyrical language and strong national identity, shapes the atmosphere in which Welsh wines are made.

I defy anyone to visit Wales, visit a Welsh vineyard or talk to a Welsh producer and not feel that this is a wholly different cultural ecosystem to England.

Logistics adds another degree of separation. As new producers start their journey, and others diversify away from livestock farming, they don’t all have winemaking facilities on site.

In an ideal world, they might prefer to make their wine in-house, but by sharing facilities – and thus winemakers – they have fostered a real sense of collaboration, and there’s genuine pride in being part of that network.

Culture alone doesn’t shape a wine of course, but terroir can, and here the split between the nations is clear.

Different sense of place

No spoiler alerts necessary – Wales is generally cooler and wetter than England, and microclimates can shift dramatically, even over short distances.

This has cultivated a grape landscape that looks quite different from England’s. While Chardonnay and Pinot Noir do grow in Wales, they don’t dominate as they do across the border.

Instead, disease-resistant, late-ripening varieties such as Solaris and Rondo are often favoured, and importantly, they also produce some of Wales’ tastiest wines; these aren’t compromise grapes – they’re just an intelligent response to place.

Take Murmur y Môr. This new Harlech vineyard has responded thoughtfully to what the site – rooted in slate similar to the Mosel valley and alluvial soils reminiscent of New Zealand’s greywacke – needs.

Founders Mark and Tabitha Lewis, rather than defaulting to the usual (English) suspects, have planted Divico, Rondo and Phoenix, among others, all with suitability in mind.

Perhaps the biggest difference, though, is mindset. Welsh producers are at a different stage of recognition and development, and this creates an inherently different attitude.

Without the pressure of expectation, they still have plenty of wiggle room to experiment, plus their scale demands adaptability and thoughtful risk taking, so the wines that have emerged are shaped by both necessity and imagination.

As James Kinsey-Jones of Whinyard Rocks in mid-Wales, producer of a red cuvée called Col Rondo (get it?), says: ‘We can’t just glance over the fence to see what the neighbour is doing.’

Wales also has a high incidence of low intervention, organic and biodynamic viticulture – another sign that producers are comfortable doing things their own way.

I’m happy that Wales and England have joint support bodies to carry them into the future, but rolling all of Wales’ talent and natural resources into the same conversation as England misses the point.

England’s reputation is richly deserved, but Wales is charting its own course.

Its climate, grape (and therefore style) choices, logistical realities and cultural independence combine to create something distinct and dynamic, proving that Wales has its own serious-wine flag to proudly wave.

In my glass this month

The fields around my childhood home in west Wales were typically filled with cows, but today – just 24km away – the land is now being used for a different type of farming.

At Hebron Vineyard, Jemma Vickers and Paul Rolt champion regenerative viticulture and produce world class, low intervention wines such as the Natural Amphora Solaris, Carmarthenshire 2023 (£34-£35 Blas ar Fwyd, Hebron Vineyard), a lip-smacking summer beauty riffing with zesty grapefruit, tangy lime and sea salt.

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