The Curious Bartender Podcast

Dawn Davies MW is back for a rare second appearance. We asked, and she answered with six bottles of fizz, each one a chapter in a career that started as a waitress and bar hand in Edinburgh, ran through Zuma, The Ledbury and Selfridges, and ended up with eleven years at The Whisky Exchange, where she built the Champagne Show from scratch. We work our way through a Blanc de Blancs from Vertus, a Pinot Noir from Aÿ fermented in Argonne oak, Gosset's Grande Réserve from the oldest wine house in Champagne, a grower-style blend aged under cork, an English rosé from Gusbourne, and the Billecart-Salmon rosé that won a blind tasting at Zuma eleven votes to one. Along the way we get into chalk cellars and climate change, why Dom Pérignon spent his life trying to get the bubbles out, how the English invented the method long before the French claimed it, what 15 months on the lees actually does, why most champagne houses own very little of their own land, and the blender's art that turns hundreds of acidic base wines into one consistent house style. Dawn explains how to make bad champagne, why sugar and Meunier are champagne's unfair villains, and why she'd happily see coupe drinkers beheaded. We talk about the Taittinger and Pommery-led rush into English vineyards and whether it dilutes the champagne brand, and she tells us about the 1988 bottle on a hillside above the Marne that made her realise this was her career. We finish on her decision to leave The Whisky Exchange with no plan in place, and her mission to rebuild an industry she says is in a bad place.
A little bit of self-fact checking:
Meunier is not the most planted grape. Pinot Noir actually beats it.
The famous perfume case was Yves Saint Laurent's "Champagne", not Chanel or LVMH.
The Royal Society paper was 1662 (Merret), not the 1760s. (which we did correct ourselves on) - The glass "Robert something" is Sir Robert Mansell, who promoted coal-fired glass furnaces.
Brut is up to 12g/L, not 14. Brut Nature is 0–3g/L
There are eight permitted grapes, not nine. The newcomer Dawn mentioned is called Voltis, a disease-resistant variety approved in 2022.

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📚 I've written ⁠quite a few books⁠ on spirits and cocktails

Chartreuse is the most sought-after liqueur in the world.
In this episode Valérie Gamond gives the first ever interview from Chartreuse on a podcast. She was born in Voiron, started at the Chartreuse cellars as a 21-year-old summer guide, and thirty-two years later has still never met the monks she works for. We get into the 1605 manuscript handed to the Carthusians in Paris, the 150 years it took to turn it into the Élixir Végétal, and the 130 plants that only three monks in the world can name — one who weighs them into numbered bags at the monastery, two who take them ten kilometres down the valley to the distillery. Valérie explains why the received wisdom about the base spirits is wrong, how the liqueur descends through casks of 50,000, 25,000 and finally 1,200 litres, why the monks had the tannins stripped out of the new vats, and what the mysterious final decoction is doing to the colour. We cover the expulsion of 1903 and the Tarragona years, the rival company that was handed the trademark, the distillery and the market and went bankrupt anyway, the landslide that washed the stock into the river in 1935, and the special bottling sent to Queen Elizabeth II for her coronation. There's the lost stuff too: white Chartreuse, the four pure fruit liqueurs killed off by the decline of the kir, and the Tarragona bottles now trading at prices that mean nobody opens them, which Valérie thinks is a shame. And we get to the heart of it: why the monks capped production at 1.2 million litres when they could sell far more, what happens to the money, and what it means to run a business on behalf of people who have taken a vow of silence and would rather be praying.

James Crowden is a soldier turned shepherd turned cider historian and poet. He is the author of Ciderland and Cider Country - among others - and In 1999 he was made the Apple Day Poet Laureate.
On this episode we trace the entire story of cider from the wild apple forests of Kazakhstan to the orchards of Somerset today. We talk about how the apple travelled west long before it reached France, why bears deserve more credit than they get, and the tragic story of Nikolai Vavilov, the Soviet scientist who identified those forests and later starved to death guarding the world's first seed bank. From there we move into England's golden age of cider, making the case that Christopher Merret and a circle of Herefordshire aristocrats, not Dom Pérignon, worked out how to put fizz in a bottle decades before champagne existed, and that it was English glass from the coal-fired forges of Newcastle, not French ingenuity, that made it possible. We cover the 1763 Cider Tax riots that helped bring down a Prime Minister in six weeks and gave us the phrase "an Englishman's home is his castle," the outbreak of lead poisoning that nearly finished off Devon's reputation, and the long slide of cider from the tables of the aristocracy to a byword for cheap, watered-down alcopops. We finish on the wassail, the community of small makers keeping real cider alive today, and where James thinks Somerset's orchards are headed as the climate changes, and he closes things out by reading one of his own poems.
If you like this episode you'll probably enjoy my chats with Tom Oliver, Gabe Cook, and Henry Jeffreys too.

Giorgio Bargiani is Assistant Director of Mixology at The Connaught Bar in Mayfair, where he has spent close to twelve years working alongside Agostino Perrone — starting as a bar back in September 2014, promoted to Head Mixologist in 2019, and now recognised in his own right, including the peer-voted Altos Bartenders' Bartender Award at Europe's 50 Best Bars in 2026. His route there was anything but direct: raised in Pisa around his family's restaurant and an 1884 perfumery boutique that once sold soap, essential oils and colognes by the litre, he studied Communications at university while working nights as a nightclub promoter, before a chance conversation sent him to Hotel Splendido in Portofino, then to Le Manoir aux Quat'Saisons in Oxfordshire, and back to Portofino again — a journey from nightclub floors to near-military fine-dining discipline that eventually led him, on the 8th of August 2014, to a trial shift with Ago at the Connaught.
On the episode we get into what that twelve-year partnership has actually been like from the inside — the moment he stopped framing himself as living in Ago's shadow and started seeing himself as lifted by his light, and exactly where their philosophies, palates and styles genuinely diverge. We talk about the 2018 crossroads when two job offers in Asia nearly pulled him away for good, the decision he and Ago made to build their own social media presence rather than hand it to a PR agency, and the unlikely creative surge Covid became for the bar. We get into his Gucci collaboration — born from a chance conversation about his Tuscan accent — and the thinking behind his own glassware collection with NUDE, including a double-pour Martini mixing glass built to solve a very specific problem: how to make two drinks at once without losing any of the theatre. And we talk about where he draws the line between innovation that means something and innovation that's just showing off.

With thanks to our sponsors:

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Barney Wilczak spent the first part of his career as a conservation photojournalist, building a media library of habitat restoration for botanic gardens around the world, and then, in what he calls his first midlife crisis, walked away from it to convert the lean-to greenhouse of his childhood home in Cirencester into Capreolus Distillery.
In this episode we sit just outside that greenhouse, going deep on what happens when you commit entirely to representing fruit rather than making alcohol: wild fermentation with no cultivated yeast or added enzymes, hand-grading tens of thousands of kilos of fruit a year on a sorting table his father welded together, and cutting away roughly nine times the volume of heads a conventional producer would keep — judged by nose and palate alone, with no meters. We talk through the arithmetic behind that obsession: a thousand kilos of raspberries yielding just eighteen litres of finished spirit, sixty-two kilos of fruit compressed into a single litre of elderberry eau de vie, and a thousand-variety orchard that ended up, improbably, in King Charles's Coronation cake.
We get into what it actually feels like to have thousands of pounds of irreplaceable fruit sitting in a still, twenty seconds from ruin, and the philosophy underneath all of it — why Barney sees his own inadequacy as a producer as the whole point, why tasting notes can miss what actually makes a drink profound, and why art that's built to be consumed rather than preserved on a wall might be the more honest kind.
Along the way we taste through raspberry, apple, quince, damson, blackcurrant and elderberry eau de vie.