There’s a moment every morning on the Isle of Skye when you look out the window and wonder what kind of day it’s going to be. Sometimes the light catches the hills in a way that makes them glow gold. More often, it’s rain – fine, misty rain that seems to drift sideways, carried on a breeze that smells faintly of peat and salt. Out here on the Waternish Peninsula, the weather isn’t something that happens to you. It’s something you live alongside.
And after a few years here, I’ve realised that the weather has changed the way I think about wine. When the wind howls across the loch and the fire’s on, you start craving wines that comfort. Wines with warmth, depth, and that touch of softness that feels like a blanket at the end of a long day.
That’s where the idea of comfort wines comes from. It’s not a technical term – it’s a feeling. They’re the bottles you reach for when the sky is low, the rain’s tapping the window, and you’ve got something slow-cooked on the stove.
Weather That Shapes a Way of Life
Skye’s climate isn’t harsh so much as humbling. The rain nourishes the land, the mist hides and reveals the mountains in equal measure, and the wind keeps you honest. It’s why crofting here has always demanded patience and adaptability. You take what the weather gives you, and you make the most of it.
I think the same applies to wine. The best winemakers I’ve met – in Burgundy, in Marlborough, in the chalk soils of southern England – have that same respect for nature. They don’t fight it. They work with it. When I visit vineyards, I’m always struck by how many of them talk about weather the way islanders do: as an old friend who can’t be controlled but can be understood.
That’s why I’m drawn to wines from places that know a bit of struggle. Cooler regions, smaller producers, people who let the conditions speak through the glass. Those wines have character, texture, and balance – the things you crave on a day when the horizon disappears into rain.
The Pull of Pinot
When the days get shorter and the wood burner becomes the centre of the house, I find myself reaching for Pinot Noirmore than any other red. It’s a grape that thrives on restraint. Grown in cooler climates, like Burgundy or Central Otago in New Zealand, it produces wines that are elegant rather than forceful. Think soft red fruit, a hint of spice, and that whisper of earth that ties it all together.
On Skye, Pinot Noir just feels right. It mirrors the landscape – layered, subtle, and quietly beautiful. It doesn’t need to prove anything. It simply belongs.
Pair it with a roast chicken, wild mushroom risotto, or even venison sausages, and you’ve got the perfect antidote to a wet October evening. If you’ve ever had a glass of Pinot while listening to the rain on a tin roof, you’ll know exactly what I mean.
White Wines for Grey Days
People often think white wine is for summer. But a cool evening calls for something richer – a white Burgundy, perhaps, or a Chenin Blanc from the Loire. These wines bring warmth through texture rather than sweetness. The oak aging in a good Burgundy gives it a roundness that pairs beautifully with buttery fish or roast pork. A Chenin Blanc, with its honeyed notes and balanced acidity, feels like sunshine through the clouds.
I remember standing in a small cellar in Chablis one winter morning, rain hammering the door, while the winemaker poured samples from barrels that had been aging for months. He talked about the soil – Kimmeridgian clay, ancient seashells, the fingerprints of time – and I realised that what I loved most about wine wasn’t just taste. It was how it told a story about place. Skye’s weather tells its story through rain and peat. Burgundy tells it through limestone and patience. Both, in their own way, are comfort.
The Peat Factor
Peat defines Skye in more ways than one. You smell it when the fire’s lit. You see it stacked to dry beside croft houses. It adds a smoky richness to whisky that’s unmistakably Scottish. But I think it influences the palate too. Living here makes you appreciate depth — that subtle, earthy undertone that gives both wine and whisky their soul.
That’s why I often recommend Syrah or Grenache blends from the Rhône Valley. They carry that same whisper of smoke, spice, and warmth. Not overwhelming, just grounding. A glass of Côtes du Rhône beside a stew or roast beef feels completely at home in a Skye kitchen.
Matching Wine to Mood
Comfort wines are less about rules and more about rhythm. The rhythm of weather, of meals, of the day itself. On Skye, that rhythm often moves slowly. You cook more, talk more, and drink better because you’re not rushing anywhere.
Do you find it difficult to choose wine that matches the season? Or do you want to have something ready for your arrival on the island – wines that fit the pace of your holiday? That’s where I come in. At Wine Guy on Skye Ltd, I help visitors and locals alike find wines that fit their surroundings. I deliver across the Isle of Skye and throughout the UK, and I offer private tastings in holiday accommodation – the perfect way to discover comfort wines tailored to your taste.
Every bottle I sell has been chosen for quality, accessibility, and story. I’ve met the winemakers, walked their vineyards, and understood their ethos. The same care they put into crafting their wines is what I bring to every tasting.
Comfort by the Glass
There’s something honest about sitting inside while the weather does its thing outside. Maybe you’ve been out walking near Neist Point, windburned and happy, or maybe you’ve spent the afternoon watching the tide roll in from your cottage window. Either way, that first sip of wine feels like a small celebration – a reward for braving the elements.
That’s why I always keep a few comfort bottles on hand. A smooth Pinot Noir from the Banks of the Thames, Oxfordshire, a creamy Chardonnay from Burgundy, or a softly sparkling English wine that tastes like bright mornings after heavy rain. They’re wines that make sense here – reflective, grounded, and quietly elegant.
The truth is, Skye’s climate doesn’t just make you crave comfort. It teaches you to appreciate it. It reminds you that good things take time, and that patience has its own flavour. Whether you’re a visitor or a local, there’s something deeply satisfying about matching your glass to the weather outside.
So next time the rain falls and the peat smoke rises, open something you can settle into. Let the island set the pace.
You can discover my hand-picked comfort wines, arrange delivery, or book a private tasting at www.wineguyonskye.com.