Be my nightshift superstar
Tasting notes #3
Writers and word devotees on this platform: do you write your articles first and then find a title, or do you work in reverse? I must confess I have no method: sometimes an article writes itself under my fingers without so much as a second thought, and then I’m stuck without a title, which I actually find harder to invent. And sometimes the title comes first, as is the case for what you’re reading right now. And then I stare at a blank page for at least an hour, which is the most frustrating feeling in the world. Please tell me I’m not alone in this.
Let’s not digress before we even start. “Nightshift Superstar” is the title of a song by Muse, from their latest album, released in June 2026. Laurent and I listened to it at least a hundred times on a random Tuesday afternoon in the cubicle we use as an office in Brooklyn. I say cubicle, but to be fair it’s not that small. It would even be comfortable had we not stacked a dangerously high wall of wine boxes there for our mva wine curation. Oh well, at least we’re in good company.
One thing that unites us as a team, apart from our love for wines (plural) and good food, is a passion for music, although we operate by very different rules. I am very much a creature of habit, and I like listening to the same repertoire over and over again: favourites ranging from the most dramatically overwrought pieces of Wagner to the irreverence of the Gallagher brothers, during and after Oasis. Laurent, by contrast, decided long ago that living life to the fullest meant never going back, and that includes never listening to the same song twice. As a result, we have endless debates over what to put on at the office. I won’t dwell on the impact these discussions have on my productivity; suffice it to say they are recurring, and I intend to keep enjoying them regardless of how long they take.
Of course, the soundtrack of our working hours seeps into other aspects of the job, sometimes in the most surprising ways. For example: we are now at more than eight wine collections sourced at mva. In our own lingo, a collection means six different wines that we think are worth discovering together: think of it as a playlist rather than a random shuffle. That means that when I arrived a few weeks ago, I had over 48 wines to get acquainted with: not only in terms of taste, but also how they were curated, the winemakers behind them, and the terroirs they came from. Talk about a learning curve for a pretty much clueless drinker. I needed to find a way to make sense of these wines, and to be able to explain to our members what to expect when trying them, or why we fell in love with them.
Turns out, music is a very efficient way to resurrect tasting memories. When I ask Laurent about a wine, my question is rarely “what does it taste like?” or “what would you pair it with?” My usual go-to line is: “if this wine were a song, what would it be?” The answers are as eclectic as his taste. This delicate Burgundy white feels like a nocturne by Chopin. This dry orange wine from Portugal is closer to a minimalist rock song: we hesitated between Siouxsie and the Banshees and The Cure, and it’s still pretty much undecided. This pleasant, comforting Beaujolais relaxes us the same way “End of Beginning” by Djo does. And this smooth, silky red from Minervois? Definitely an orchestral Hooverphonics live. The 2012 version at Koningin Elisabethzaal, to be exact.
Yup, we’re huge nerds.
I mentioned in my inaugural newsletter in June that certain aromas have an uncanny triggering effect on my brain: dried fruit, petroleum, nutty flavours in general. It’s pretty much the same with certain harmonies or voice qualities. They’re my nightshift superstars: aromatic or musical notes that get me every time. It doesn’t mean they all taste or sound the same. It means that within a few seconds, or a few sips, they become immediately important to me.
Some people keep asking me what it’s like to blind taste every wine that makes it into our selection. My answer is exactly that. I’m not looking for something good, or decent, or fairly priced for the quality, even though that last criterion has its place. I’m looking for things that make me gasp, or cry, or go suddenly silent. I’m looking for wines that hit me like a meteor.
I’m looking for my nightshift superstars.
Cheers,
Arielle