Why I'm excited for wine in 2026
The wine industry had a rough year in 2025. But interesting smaller producers are flourishing and innovating. Plus: what I've been drinking recently
London is pretty quiet this week, still perhaps shell-shocked from the season’s excesses. Roughly like the wine industry as it faces 2026, then – except vintners were punch-drunk rather than merry by the end of 2025. Last year was dominated by gloomy stories about falling wine production and sales; a lacklustre economy; neo-prohibitionists doubling down; Donald Trump’s ruinous tariffs; and vines being pulled up from California to Bordeaux. And yet despite this mood, I’m optimistic about this year for wine. Or at least, for some wines.
Certainly the industry will be under pressure in 2026, starting with this leanest of months. It is estimated that around one in five UK drinkers now take part in Dry January, even though far fewer manage the whole month off the sauce. While I myself am trying to cut my alcohol intake for the usual sensible reasons, I still find Dry January an utterly joyless phenomenon. It’s hard to think of another shared national moment charged with such sanctimonious piousness. And it’s not good for the economy either: restaurant owners tell me the effect on business is noticeable.
The elevation of a killjoy spasm into feelgood self-flagellation is rarely achieved outside the strictures of organised religion. And it’s no coincidence that much of the pressure to stigmatise drinking and tighten controls on it comes from organisations rooted in bible-bashing temperance. Campaigners associated with Movendi International, a rebranding of the Independent Order of Good Templars, have infiltrated key public health committees in the US and Canada and lobbied for ridiculous cancer-warning labels on alcohol in Ireland. Meanwhile the UK’s Institute for Alcohol Studies was founded by the UK Temperance Alliance. If they had God and right on their side, why did they need to change their name? Funny, that.
But for whatever reason, a gradually increasing percentage of the population is not drinking today – around a quarter of British adults, more among young people. One result is that the market for no-and-low alcohol products is growing fast, albeit from a tiny base. Aside from anything else, as a booze journalist, being bombarded with publicity for this dross is almost unimaginably tedious. Next month’s Wine Paris jamboree will feature a whole new section for it, the curiously titled Be No (I’m sure the French organisers weren’t intentionally trying to make this pap sound like a children’s comic.)
Meanwhile a slew of discouraging consumer trends is emerging for other reasons. Some observers have predicted a big impact from the new generation of weight loss drugs such as Ozempic and Mounjaro (I’m happy to report that the only friend of mine who has tried it says it didn’t make her want to drink less – but then it didn’t really help her lose weight either.) At the same time, a sluggish UK economy certainly doesn’t help wine sales. Nor does increased alcohol duty or the ongoing red-tape nightmare that is post-Brexit importing.
But while it’s normal for commentators and trade people to talk about “the wine industry” in this way, it’s questionable how far such a beast actually exists. To be sure, all UK wine sales have been hit by last year’s mad duty reforms, dreamt up by the Tories and enthusiastically implemented by Labour. Factors like the latest business rate [local tax] hike will affect all wine shops, bars and pubs, no matter what bottles they sell. Yet the worlds inhabited by, on one hand, the mass-produced brands that dominate the supermarkets, and on the other the kind of bottles favoured by most people seriously interested in wine, are very different.
In the UK, the top 10 brands – Hardy’s and the like – account for around a quarter of all off-trade sales. Together with supermarket own-label wines, they have 70-80 per cent of the market. In the US, that grip is even stronger: the top 10 companies control nearly 60 per cent of US wine production, while industry leader E&J Gallo holds nearly a third of the market.
Sales of these companies’ mass-market wines are determined largely by advertising and marketing: like petrol, shampoo or supermarket cheese, the actual products are essentially interchangeable with those of competitors. As such, they are also the most price sensitive. US wine sales fell by around five per cent in 2026, and some of the big groups’ entry-level wines have been especially hard hit in recent years.
By contrast, wines from small independent producers represent perhaps 10 per cent of the UK market. They are mostly sold by Britain’s 1,000-odd independent wine shops, plus a few bigger operators such as the Wine Society. A 2024 report by importer Liberty Wines showed independents’ sales outperforming both supermarkets and the on-trade in recent years. And the large majority of the wines I write about belong to this group.
They include most of the wines that are interesting – that I actually want to drink, which frankly isn’t true for at least 90 per cent of what I taste at supermarket press tastings. If you prefer Echo Falls: fill your glass and enjoy. But you should no more expect me to write about it than you’d see a restaurant critic reviewing KFC.
It is also the independent wines that give me hope for 2026. Take the many great things happening in Spanish wine right now, with previously ignored areas (the Canaries, Terra Alta, Ribeira Sacra) and new styles (light, fragrant Garnachas from Sierra de Gredos and Campo de Borja; non-fortified whites from Jerez; terroir-driven Riojas) flourishing. Or look at Greece, Europe’s most exciting wine scene next to Spain, where again there is endless experimentation and a new generation of winemakers driving up quality. Meanwhile the natural and low-intervention wine scene – with its share of duds and more than its share of sectarians – continues to generate up interesting, individual wines. All these are the kind of bottles that remind me, time and again, of wine’s ability to surprise and delight.
Small producers in general are also at the forefront of making wine more sustainable. It’s true that for innovations requiring substantial capital investments, such as big solar arrays or electric tractors, bigger producers usually find it easier to raise the cash than do small independent ones, especially in Europe and Latin America. The little guys can never afford to employ sustainability directors or produce glossy net-zero strategies. Yet they’re often more agile for it. I think, for instance, of what Chilean biodynamic winemaker Álvaro Espinoza has achieved at his Antiyal vineyard; or what Johan Reyneke has done for biodiversity on his land in Stellenbosch; or how Tablas Creek, California became the world’s first certified regenerative vineyard: these are all independent producers.
The lives of such small farmers are never easy. But they are not taking the sort of hit some mass-market brands are – despite their wines rarely being especially cheap. Consider the cost of the natural wines that are a feature of many independent London wine shop/bars. They’re relatively expensive for what they are: it’s not hard to spend £30 on a wine where, thanks to its low profile and classification as Vin de France or similar, you’re largely having to take the merchant’s word for it. But they don’t seem to have much trouble selling. Meanwhile The Wine Merchant magazine’s survey early last year of independent UK wine stores found that the average bottle price was £16.91 [$22.90/€19.50] – yet the numbers of such shops are gradually increasing, rather than disappearing amid tumbling sales.
Conversely, you’d hardly know the Greek, or craft Spanish, or low-intervention wine scenes were there, to judge by what’s on supermarket shelves – let alone the average urban convenience store. The wine market, in the UK at least, is so segmented that there is very little overlap between mass-market and independent wines in terms of how they’re imported (the big groups such as Accolade and Treasury Wine Estates import their own wines anyway) or where they’re sold. And if the big brands suffer further this year, it’s hard to see it registering much with the world of the independents and their consumers.
Of course some exchange goes on between the different parts of the wine trade: many independent merchants started off working for bigger stores or importers. At the same time, small wine producers aren’t going to make the trade sustainable on their own. To really make a difference to the industry’s carbon emissions and pesticide use, we need big firms on board – which is why I was fascinated in California last year to see major players such as Jackson Family Estates and O’Neill doing serious-sized field trials of regenerative viticulture. But sadly such efforts are the kind of programmes that tend to get scrapped when the market forces big companies to make cost savings.
This year is probably going to be another tough one for those businesses producing for and selling to the bottom end of the market. Some Californian growers supplying the likes of E&J Gallo will go bust, while some Bordeaux vignerons selling plonk to Grands Chais de France will resort to taking government cash to tear up their vines. That’s sad, but it isn’t the whole of the world of wine. Consumer tastes change – and other vignerons will be thriving as wine drinkers snap up their wines.
In 2026 we should celebrate and enjoy wine’s innovators. Amid the icy chill and sanctimony of this Dry January, we need them more than ever.
My and Jane Masters MW’s book, Rooted in Change: The Stories Behind Sustainable Wine, explores what some of the producers mentioned above are doing to make their wines more sustainable. Worth a read – and don’t just take my word for it! “Easy to read, sympathetic, relatable and pragmatic… a courageous, groundbreaking, hope-filled piece of work” – Tamlyn Currin, JancisRobinson.com
What I’ve been drinking recently
Legras & Haas Blanc de Blancs Grand Cru Chouilly 2018 – I drank this champagne at Christmas with my family. Quite rich fruit with lots of bready, brioche flavours, well balanced with acidity and freshness. Long and very classy (AG Wines, Sociovino, from £79.95.)
Jacques Saumaize “En Crèches” 2023, St Verán – lovely white Burgundy from the Mâconnais, always the region’s best value. Sweet, ripe appley fruit underpinned by brisk acidity, nicely balanced (The Wine Society, £18.50. They’re just about out of the 2023 but have stock of the 2024 to follow.)
Pala “Centosere” 2022, Cannonau di Sardegna – Cannonau is the name for Grenache/Garnacha on the island of Sardinia, though wines made from it are subtly different to their French and Spanish neighbours. Quite fragrant and spicy on the nose; bright, spicy, ripe red fruit, so harmonious (Highbury Vintners, £24. Some other recent vintages available elsewhere. I drank at the ever-reliable Enoteca Super Tuscan in London’s Spitalfields.)
I, of course, was desperate to take part in Dry January but realise that it is my duty to the economy to continue drinking! Interesting article, I have visited Jerez and yet was not aware that there was non fortified wine from the area - I'll look out for it. As someone who enjoys travelling I really should do more to look up some of the stuff I've enjoyed while abroad - notably recently been to Hungary, Croatia and Montenegro - all good - and will be going to Greece later in the year. A replacement resolution for dry January!