Alexa, play ‘My Own Worst Enemy’ by Lit
A week in Albania and winning gold in the enjoyment Olympics
If there’s one defining trait that unites every wino, foodie or hospitality professional, it’s the tendency to take pleasure very seriously. There are no such things as guilty pleasures – only whatever we desire in the moment.
If anything, I’m more likely to experience guilt if I know that, regardless of whether I’m enjoying myself, I could be enjoying myself more – because if I’m indulging in something, I need to be certain that I’m having the best possible version of that experience available to me at that point in time. Otherwise, what’s the point?
Should we go to this restaurant that looks busy and has a good menu, or walk another ten minutes to the one that I’d been eyeing up for the occasion? Have I ordered the most enjoyable dish on the menu? Is the wine exactly what I want to be drinking right now, or is there something I would have enjoyed more, or paired better with the food? Should I order the thing I know I like, or the thing that I’ve been recommended – which will give me the best possible version of this experience?
My attitude towards pleasure and enjoyment reminds me of the viral tweet about getting a good grade in therapy – somehow, I have come to believe that it is possible to be the best at enjoyment, and that if I leave somewhere feeling I could have enjoyed myself more, I have failed.
This does mean I can be trusted with planning and executing a Very Good Time, as you can guarantee anywhere I take you for dinner or drinks will have been extensively researched and vetted, and therefore, will probably be really good. But, it can also make me an incredibly annoying person to spend time with – you can forget about spontaneity, compromise, or heading somewhere that isn’t already saved to one of my many, extensive Google Maps lists, for a start.
It tracks, then, that going on holiday – a period defined by nothing but leisure and enjoyment – really exacerbates this hedonistic neurosis. This was recently put to the test when I took a much-needed holiday with three friends to a country I had never visited before and knew very little about, but was filled with the promise of lazy days at the beach, delicious Mediterranean cuisine, and the opportunity to try new and unfamiliar wines from one of the oldest wine-making regions in the world. It had all the ingredients of a great holiday, and I was determined to combine them in a way that would ensure The Best Holiday Ever.
In order to get to Sarandë – one of the main resorts of the Albanian Riviera and a recent hotspot for tourists looking for la dolce vita on a Butlins budget – I flew into Corfu, where you can then get the ferry to Albania. I’d given myself a couple of hours in Corfu, having never been before, in order to grab some lunch and experience a bit of it before continuing my journey to Sarandë.
I arrived with visions of sitting in a local taverna, munching on spanakopita and washing it down with a glass of something crisp and fragrant from one of the island’s local wineries, which I’d spent some time reading up on in advance.
So, when I was unable to find anything reminiscent of this within walking distance to the ferry port, while carrying a rucksack, tote bag and wheeling a carry-on case in 36°C sunshine, I begrudgingly settled for the nearest place that had tables outside, other people sat in the restaurant, and – crucially – air con. I sat down, saw ‘cheese pie’ on the English version of the menu, which I took to mean my beloved spanakopita, and ordered one with spinach and one without, along with a large bottle of water.
“Sorry, we don’t have these today”, the server told me, pointing at ‘cheese pie’ on the menu. Slightly disappointed but not yet deterred, I opted for a holiday classic instead – calamari and chips – and asked what wine they had.
A combination of a language barrier, a limited selection, and me forgetting that most people don’t need to think about what they’re drinking beyond the colour of the wine, meant that all I could gather about the glass that I had ordered was that it was white and that it was dry. My hopes for the version of the lunch I had imagined continued to dwindle, and were dashed completely when I was handed a plate of tepid and chewy deep fried squid, along with a plate of potato wedges reminiscent of the kind I buy from Iceland when I’m hungover and/or depressed.
My disappointment, the blistering heat and the pit of hunger that had been growing in my stomach for the last couple of hours were beginning to curdle, and I found myself sitting in Corfu, on holiday, out for a solo lunch (famously my favourite way to spend my time), and feeling completely miserable about it all. When the waiter brought my glass of wine over, I was ready to sack the whole thing off, head for the ferry and hope for a better experience on the other side of the water in Albania.
Then, I tried the wine. It was, indeed, white and dry. And, by no stretch of the imagination, was it one of the best wines I’ve ever drank. But it was cool and refreshing, with a delicate elderflower aroma, notes of sun-ripened tropical fruits and a crisp, mineral finish. It reminded me of a bottle* we sell in the bar I work in, which, aptly, always makes me think of being on holiday in the Mediterranean sunshine when I drink it. I had no idea what the wine I was drinking was or where it came from, but in that moment, it helped cool me off, complimented my salty snacks, and jolted me out of my funk. It was, without me realising it, exactly what I had wanted.
In trying to have the best possible version of an experience, I had gotten in my own way and forgotten that if you’re off work, sitting in the sun in a new country, having a little snack and a little drink, you should be having a nice time. In a (humbling) moment of clarity, I realised that the only thing that was preventing me from having a nice time was me. For someone who professes that their primary reason for being interested in and working in wine is enjoying it, I was doing a pretty shitty job of it.
After I’d settled up, I made my way to the ferry to meet my friends in Sarandë, and set myself the goal of letting go of the idea that there was a best or correct way to enjoy my time in Albania. Along with not wanting to ruin my own week, I cringed at the thought of my bad vibes affecting my friends’ enjoyment of their holiday, all because I was being a princess about wanting to have the best possible time.
The rest of the week passed in a haze of sun, sweat, beach clubs, swimming in the sea, and thinking about what we wanted to have for dinner. I didn’t make the trip to the winery I had planned on visiting, didn’t go the wine bar I had earmarked or half the restaurants I had picked out in advance, and despite enjoying plenty of it, didn’t learn all that much about Albanian wine either (beyond the fact that most of the bars and restaurants we went to didn’t actually seem to rate Albanian wine over the other old world wines that they were pouring).
But when we were playing stupid games over dinner about what roles we would play in society across different historical periods or what snake oil we would flog if we were TikTok influencers, eating byrek and seafood and ice cream and oregano Lays, and drinking cocktails and espresso and Diet Cokes and wine of unknown origins, I decided I might already having the most enjoyable version of the holiday possible. I just needed to get out of my brain and into my body to realise it.
*The wine that came to mind when I was having lunch in Corfu was Thomas Niedermayr’s Amurasca 2021. Solaris might not be a grape you’re familiar with, but it should be – PIWIs or hybrids are often maligned as lacking the level of depth or expression when compared to wines produced from wines produced from vitis vinifera, but in the right hands, they can really sing. Amurasca, like all of Niedermayr’s wines, is a great example of a wine made from a hybrid variety that can rival or outperform its more commonly known counterparts. Sunny, tropical and with a gentle herbaceous edge, this is a wine that immediately transports you to warmer, sunnier climes.