What makes wine (and life) more memorable? A Report From Wine Explorer Diego Samper
Last week, my cousin flew in from Hong Kong and—like two of our previous house guests—made his way to one of the most talked-about bakeries in Paris: Cedric Grolet. You may have heard the name. He’s the pastry chef who’s become something of a celebrity, famous for fruit-shaped desserts and long lines that snake around the block.
All three went there out of curiosity. And as the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat. The first two came back a little disappointed. “Beautiful to look at,” they said, “but not quite worth the wait.”
This time, though, my cousin brought a box back to our apartment. I took a bite. And it was fantastic.
Not because it was better that day. But because I wasn’t expecting much. I had no mental image to compare it to, no headline playing in the back of my mind. That’s when pleasure sneaks in—when it hasn’t been announced in advance.
It’s not that planning is bad. I plan. I book flights. I know what I’m getting into. And when I fly business, I enjoy every second of it.
But then I go back to coach. And it’s not that coach got worse—it’s just that now I know what the front of the plane feels like. And knowing changes everything. That contrast reshapes the experience before it even begins.
These days, experiences are often shaped by a photo—framed from the right angle to hide the crowd, the heat, the missing bathroom, or the five-dollar bottled water. Snaps that overpromise. Thirty-second videos clipped to perfection.
You go to the beach expecting bliss. You arrive to find a heatwave and a queue for sun umbrellas.
In a city like Paris, bakeries win awards and go viral just like beaches and wine labels. My very pregnant partner has a sixth sense for finding them. We happily do the walk—doctor’s orders.
And they’re good. Really good. The bar is high here.
But the bakery I always return to?
Tout Autour du Pain. (All Around Bread.) 134 Rue de Turenne, 75003 Paris
Not because it’s “the best,” although it’s won its share of ribbons. I go because it’s mine. It’s the one I found when I first moved here. The one I still turn to when I just need a baguette. A croissant. No line. No preamble. Just the pleasure of something good and familiar.
And other times, I want something new. A different bakery. A different bottle. A little surprise.
Because surprise is part of the pleasure. A certain achievement. A level unlocked.
Psychologists might say it’s dopamine. Philosophers might call it serendipity, novelty, the unknown, even the sublime. From Kant to Heidegger to Freud, surprise has always been seen as something essential to how we engage with the world—how we feel alive in it.
Wine works like this too.
There’s plenty of it now that’s made to meet expectations. Market-tested, influencer-approved, designed to taste exactly how you think it should. But that’s not what we built this club for.
The club is about discovery. Sometimes that means something traditional—a Malbec made in the style of a hundred years ago. Sometimes it’s something off the beaten path—a bottle you’d never find on your own, tucked away in a dusty cellar at the edge of the Andes.
And no, viral does not equal quality. Just recently, there was a wine that went viral because it came with a detachable ashtray built into the bottom of the bottle. I haven’t tried it. But I’ve had enough wine to know that gimmicks are easier to manufacture than substance.
Sometimes, like with the bakery, you want what you know.
And other times, you want the unknown. A bottle that rewires what you thought you liked.
And now, it’s summer. Still.
So here’s a small invitation:
Go to a beach, a lake, a mountain you’ve never heard of.
Pick up a book you always said wasn’t for you.
Try the bottle you were sure you didn’t like.
Plan the flight. Book the room.
But leave your expectations at the door, and a few empty slots in your itinerary too.
I’ll bet you’ll get inspired once you’re there.
The good stuff? It’s still out there.
You just have to not see it coming.
And hey, since it’s summer, if you’ve got a bakery you swear by, a favorite summer spot, a book, a bottle you’ve fallen for lately… send it my way. I’d love to hear what’s surprising you.
This summer, it’s all about walking distance for me. Doctor’s orders.
Diego Samper
Wine Explorer
P.S. We just released our first-ever white from Angastaco — Tacana Torrontés 2023. Only 10 tons made, and most of it’s already spoken for.
If you love Tacana Malbec — the story, the place, the grit — this one’s for you. Reserve your allocation before it’s gone.