After spending a full week intensively exploring the wines of Hungary — driving long kilometres to visit more than a dozen producers across six regions, tasting extensive flights and taking careful notes — my wife and I were ready to slow down and simply enjoy the next stage of our trip. Yet by our second day in Serbia, my curiosity about the country’s wines had already been stirred. With just one day left in Novi Sad, we found a wine bar only ten minutes’ walk from our accommodation. My hope was modest: a basic introduction to a few key Serbian varieties rather than the usual international grapes. What followed far surpassed those expectations, ultimately leading to this article — only the third wine‑bar review I’ve written, after Bea Bar in Copenhagen and the iconic Noble Rot in Wellington, New Zealand.

The first part of this series traced the macro-political and corporate lines running through New Zealand viticulture. It showed how immigration policy rollbacks, superficial desktop audits, and a regional housing crisis have joined forces to choke family estate succession and greenwash baseline legal obligations into badges of sustainability. The result is a lopsided industry—one that boasts world-class environmental credentials on paper while anchoring its core workforce strategy in cost-optimized, compliance-driven legal minimums.

New Zealand wine has earned its reputation for environmental leadership (as I explored in an earlier article here). SWNZ’s near‑universal adoption is a genuine achievement, and the industry deserves credit for building a sustainability culture that is both practical and commercially valuable. But sustainability is not a single‑circle concept. In classical sustainability theory, resilience sits at the intersection of three Es: Environment, Equity, and Economics. New Zealand wine has led on the environmental front, but leadership is not arrival. Environmental sustainability is a moving target, and its long‑term viability now depends on how well we strengthen the human foundations beneath it.

Wine faults are rarely the neat, binary failures people imagine. Most live on spectrums where chemistry, perception, and personal tolerance collide, and where a flaw can be either a minor quirk or a complete catastrophe depending entirely on dose and context. That was the uncomfortable lesson of Part 1, where cork taint, oxidation, reduction, and volatile acidity proved far more ambiguous than their reputations suggest.

On Sunday 16 August 2026, (just yesterday when I first began writing), I had the privilege of leading a landmark vertical tasting of Ata Rangi Célèbre, featuring an extraordinary lineup of 13 wines spanning from 1994 to 2024. This rare retrospective offered a profound look at one of New Zealand’s most distinctive red blends—a wine that has quietly cultivated a fiercely dedicated following. Historically, Célèbre has lived somewhat in the shadow of its legendary sibling, the internationally acclaimed Ata Rangi Pinot Noir, which remains a benchmark for the Martinborough region (see my article Three Decades of Ata Rangi Pinot Noir). Yet, as this tasting triumphantly demonstrated, Célèbre is a powerhouse of complexity and character in its own right, uniquely reflecting both the evolution of the estate and the brilliant longevity of Wairarapa’s late-ripening varieties.

This article is a practical guide to understanding wine faults — what they are, how they appear, and how to tell the difference between a genuine defect and harmless complexity.