Mastering Wine: Emma Jenkins' MW Musings

Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc came bursting onto the global stage in the 1980s, rewriting global expectations of freshness and style for the variety. The industry’s wholesale embrace of screwcaps in the 2000s was another moment of collective swagger, and along with the flying winemakers who took with them innovative thinking and technical know-how, boldness became a New Zealand calling card.

But alongside boldness is its less flashy relative, bravery. Quieter, less obvious, but no less important. If boldness grabs headlines, bravery sustains them. Bravery is planting Pinot Noir in a marginal region, when everybody thinks you’re mad. Bravery is farming organically in a high-rainfall corner of the country, when neighbours warn it’s impossible. Bravery is sticking with Syrah, despite global markets barely blinking. Bravery is working with Chenin, Gewürztraminer or Riesling, knowing they will never pay the bills like Sauvignon Blanc, but believing they matter.

Boldness and bravery may overlap but they are not the same. Boldness is outward facing, a willingness to take risks, act decisively, and perhaps make a statement to the world. Bravery is inward-facing, it’s having the mental strength to take risks when the outcome is uncertain, the economics are shaky, or the rewards distant. Boldness is spearheading a screwcap revolution; bravery might be a years-long grind to convert a recalcitrant vineyard to organics.

New Zealand wine as a collective at times feels a little less bold these days. Sauvignon Blanc has become both a strength and a straitjacket, anchoring the industry’s success but narrowing its story. As a nation, the swagger has faltered. Yet growing pockets of bravery can be found – in the push towards genuine long-term sustainability practices and leadership, in our burgeoning stylistic experimentation, in the sheer stubbornness of people working outside the mainstream.

Is this enough? Individual acts of courage are vital, but without amplification they remain scattered sparks. What once set New Zealand apart was its ability to turn individual daring into a shared movement. Screwcap adoption wasn’t just brave; it became bold because the whole industry joined in. Perhaps what’s missing is not courage itself, but the willingness to turn small acts of bravery into shared stories of leadership.

Boldness often comes easier when you’re the outsider disrupting the system. Bravery becomes more important once you’ve matured, built markets, and face up to the risk of complacency. Our challenge now might be to connect bravery back to boldness – to take the many small acts of risk-taking happening across the regions and reassert them as part of the national identity. That doesn’t mean abandoning Sauvignon Blanc, but it does mean telling a bigger story: that New Zealand Wine is not just safe and consistent, but brave, and, when it chooses to be, still bold.

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• Mastering Wine: Emma Jenkins' MW Musings
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