Mineral

Chalk dust on your fingers. Wet slate after rain.

Earthy

Forest floor. Damp clay. Soil just turned.

Chalky

The inside of a quarry. Classroom chalk.

Flinty

Struck flint. The smell before a fire catches.

Stony

Gravel in your hand. A dry riverbed.

Volcanic

Ash. Hot stone in summer. The smell after lightning.

Gravelly

A country road. The crunch underfoot.

Petrichor

Rain on dry earth. From the Greek petra (stone) and ichor (the fluid in the veins of the gods). Coined in 1964. That smell has always existed — it just needed a name.

Terroir

The taste of a place — soil, slope, sun, memory. The reason two wines from neighbouring vineyards can taste nothing alike.

Salty

Sea spray on your face. Oysters.

Briny

Rock pools. Seaweed drying in the sun.

Iodine

The shoreline. A coastal wind.

Marine

Open sea air. The smell of a harbour.

Coastal

Salt flats. Wind off the water. Sun-bleached stone.

Saline

Mineral water with a bite. Clean and electric. Comes from vines grown close to the sea.

Forest floor

Wet leaves underfoot. Mushrooms. The smell of October.

Herbal

Crushed herbs in a garden. Thyme between your fingers.

Grassy

Freshly cut lawn. A meadow in early morning.

Cedar

Pencil shavings. A cigar box left open. Often a sign of oak ageing, especially in Bordeaux-style reds.

Pine

Walking through a forest. Mountain air.

Mossy

Stones by a stream. Old walls after rain.

Smoky

Bonfire. Charcoal just lit.

Toasty

Bread from the oven. Coffee beans roasting.

Ashy

The morning after a fire. Cold embers. Common in wines from volcanic soils — Etna, Santorini, the Canary Islands.

Tarry

A road in summer heat. The smell of a port.

Meaty

Barbecue smoke drifting over a garden wall.

Charred

A burnt edge. Black on the outside, something else inside. Often from oak barrels toasted at high heat.

Silky

The smoothest transition — no edges, no grip.

Velvety

Rich and soft. Pulls you in slowly.

Grippy

Tannins that hold your tongue. A firm handshake. Tannins are what make red wine feel dry — they come from grape skins, seeds, and oak.

Chalky

Drying, powdery — like licking a stone.

Crisp

A clean break. The snap of an apple.

Round

No sharp corners. Comfortable weight.

Lean

Taut, precise. Nothing extra. Often a sign of a cool climate — think Chablis or Loire Valley.

Creamy

Slow, full, unhurried.

Bright

High acidity — sharp and lively, like a squeeze of citrus.

Warm

Alcohol that spreads through the chest. Usually signals above 14% — not bad, just noticeable.

Angular

Acidity or tannins that haven't softened yet. Give it more time, or more food.

Plush

Soft, generous, almost too easy.

Mushroom

Damp earth. The underside of a log.

Truffle

Dark, deep, almost animal.

Leather

Old books. A worn saddle.

Tobacco

A tin opened slowly. Dried leaves.

Petrol

Riesling's signature — surprising, then oddly right. It comes from a compound called TDN that develops as the wine ages. The better the Riesling, the more it leans into it.

Farmyard

Hay. Animals. Not always wrong. Natural wine's calling card — comes from a wild yeast called Brettanomyces.

Beeswax

Old furniture. A church in summer.

Honeyed

Slow, amber, something that took time.

Waxy

Lip balm. Lanolin. A thick, coating texture — often found in aged whites like old Burgundy or Hunter Valley Semillon.

Rose

Cut roses, not perfume.

Violet

Crushed petals. Old-fashioned soap.

Jasmine

Night-blooming. A garden after dusk.

Orange blossom

Mediterranean air. A wedding.

Lavender

Dried bunches. Provence in July.

Honeysuckle

A hedgerow in June. Something sweet in the air.

Stone fruit

A peach at its peak — the skin, the juice, the pit.

Citrus peel

Zest grated into a dish. The oils under your nail.

Dried fruit

Figs in winter. Raisins warming in the sun.

Jam

Fruit cooked down, concentrated, a little heavy. Often signals very ripe grapes or a warm vintage.

Cherry

Both fresh and preserved — the difference matters.

Blackcurrant

Dark, sharp, almost inky. The go-to descriptor for Cabernet Sauvignon.