A Report From Wine Explorer Diego Samper – The algorithm is bullying you
Paris, France
I hate you, internet. But I also kind of love you.
Because even while you numb our senses and oversimplify our problems, sometimes you still connect people in the right ways. Like the other day, when someone posted this in a Paris food forum:
“I’m going to a restaurant in Paris tonight. Any recommendations on where to go and what wine I should order?”
Not a bad question. And I get it — sometimes it’s nice to have a little guidance.
But it made me pause. Because it wasn’t just a question. It felt like a surrender.
This person hadn’t seen the room. Didn’t know the menu. Didn’t know how they’d feel once they sat down. And already, the choice was being outsourced.
That’s not what forums are for, the question was too subjective. They’re not there to make the decision for you. They’re a reference point. A window. Just like this wine club. Not a prescription, but a path. Not about being right, but about seeing more.
I wanted places that had lasted. Because stars fade. Hype dies down. But time is the real test.
I’d been reading about old Parisian bistros. Places that have been quietly going about their business for decades. Not the flashy new openings. Not the ones chasing stars.
Still, even with the classics, you have to give things more than one try. What didn’t move you once might catch you differently the second time.
One of the hardest things for people? Changing their minds.
We’ve been taught that changing your opinion shows weakness — that to evolve is to backtrack. And the internet doesn’t help.
The algorithm is bullying us. Softly. Constantly. Nudging us toward predictability.
But changing your opinion is human. It’s the natural evolution of an idea. And you know what? Taste changes too.
So give that oyster another try. Revisit that Argentine Malbec. End dinner with a glass of Port instead of dessert. What you didn’t like before might just be what you need now.
A contrarian idea isn’t wrong — it’s just different. And maybe in a world where people’s dinner menus are already pre-chosen, we need more of those.
Even critics used to be honest. Remember that? A dish could be called a disaster without backlash. Now everything is amazing. Everyone plays it safe.
But real taste — real experience — requires a little risk.
We live in a time of near-limitless options, and that’s a gift. Long gone are the days of one brand of canned tomatoes. Now there are six or more — and that’s a good thing.
So yes, I believe in reviews. We have them too — and we’re proud of them. (4.8 stars on Google, by the way.)
If you’re enjoying the club, leave us a review. Not for the algorithm — for the next person who needs a nudge to step off the path.
Because not everything worth trying has a trail of stars behind it.
A friend once asked me: “Why join a wine club if you don’t even pick the bottles?”
Because maybe that’s the point.
The club exists to take you somewhere you wouldn’t go on your own. To hand you a bottle you didn’t ask for — and maybe fall in love with it. It’s not about being right. It’s about being awake.
That decision — to take a different route — is never tidy. It doesn’t come with instructions. Just a flicker of curiosity. A quieter street. An unusual grape.
But if you follow it — even once — you’re no longer sleepwalking through your own life.
Your taste should be clay, not concrete. Soft enough to be shaped. Flexible enough to evolve. Not just a garage to park someone else’s opinions in.
So this weekend… try something you didn’t plan.
Choose the restaurant that still has no reviews. Order the dish that’s off the menu. Ask for the wine the staff is secretly excited about.
Let it be weird. Let it be wonderful. Let it be yours.
Because the best things — the ones that really stay with you — never come with five stars and a guarantee.
And if you’re a club member: I’ve selected some special wines this month that you might not have tried before. Something unexpected. Something with character. I hope one of them catches you off guard in the best possible way.
And to those of you who’ve been here a while — thank you. We just passed the 6-year mark. It’s been a joy walking this path with you.
Here’s to a few more wrong turns… and the surprises waiting at the end of them. The little detours. The questions that aren’t meant to be answered. And the moments when surrender — not control — is exactly what brings the magic in.
Cheers,
Diego