As much as Oberon Kant’s Big Book of Wine is the greatest book on wine ever written, the BBC’s Posh Nosh is the greatest cooking show ever. It’s a shame they never released a DVD of it (but don’t worry, you can find most episodes on YouTube). I regard Simon Marchmont’s aphorisms as my guiding light in day to day life. “Food without wine? What’s that? It’s absurd.” Or “Useful tip - if you can't afford £16.80 for a kilo of chipolatas, then you shouldn’t really be starting a family.” And of course my vision for the future: “The Quill & Tassel was the first restaurant in Britain to make wine compulsory, with exceptions for drivers and genuine alcoholics with a current AA card.” If only more people obeyed these maxims we would have solved binge drinking and teen pregnancy at least, and have no further need for the Jeremy Kyle Show.
Anyway, out of homage to Simon & Minty as much as anything else, last week I made for myself what I consider to be their greatest dish: “Crapos en el Bujo”. It’s Spanish style Toad in the Hole using chorizo instead of pork sausages. As disappointed as I was that “Crapos en el Bujo” doesn’t actually mean “Toad in the Hole” in Spanish (it doesn’t mean anything in any language as far as I can see – great name for a dish nevertheless), the recipe actually turned out quite well. It’s not unlike a very meaty pizza, with the pizza dough replaced by Yorkshire pudding. Calling for lard, chorizo, salsichon, jamon de Serrano as well as eggs and milk for the batter, it’s also an excellent way to remind your arteries who’s boss.
Anyway, to accompany this excellent dish I chose a 2005 Arrocal Ribera del Duero (£10). Simon recommends “Vina Domal 1980 Rioja”, which I could not obtain, not least because it is a non-existent wine. But the Arrocal was a worthy companion. It’s a nice modern style Tempranillo aged in a mix of French and American oak. Dark colour, it has an abundance of purple, jammy fruit on the nose, but a more evolved palate showing chocolate, plummy fruit, minerals, fresh acid and substantial grip on the finish. A real winner – as much so as the dish.
While we’re at it, two Clare Valley Rieslings from the 2007 vintage. The 2007 O’Leary Walker Polish Hill River Riesling commends itself to the patrons of Waitrose Bloomsbury for only £9. It is pale straw in colour with good intensity of lime on the nose. The palate begins with tingly acid and shows good herbal intensity. The finish is perhaps a bit broad, vegetal and chalky, and I’ve seen longer finishes on Clare Riesling, but overall not a bad drop. Unfortunately, I can’t help but say that it is vastly overshadowed by the 2007 Petaluma Hanlin Hill Riesling (£10). One of my old bosses used to say “don’t you dare serve me any of Brian Croser’s soapy shit”. But she was a bitch and I’m glad to say that I demur most strongly on her assessment of this wine, or at least this vintage of it. It has a fantastic nose of orange blossom, lime, lemon, fanta, delicate florality, the palate following, tight and citrussy, with great intensity and incredible minerality on the finish. An utterly convincing example of the style that really shows what Clare Riesling is all about.
Monday, 24 March 2008
Sunday, 9 March 2008
Game of pairs
This week’s adventures begin with a tasting on Thursday night hosted by Genesis wines, where a string of pairs presented blind produced some surprising results. Here are the highlights.
We started with a pair of sauvignons blancs. The 2006 Matetic Vineyards EQ Sauvignon Blanc (Chile, £9) is virtually clear. The nose is pungent, grassy, herbaceous, smoky, but in a balanced way. There is real interest on the palate, which shows smoke, salt, melons, passionfruit, pepper, a hint of sherbet. Real freshness, great length. It's about as complex and interesting as sauvignon blanc gets. I took it for Pouilly Fuimé, such was both its intensity and finesse. I preferred it to the 2006 Staete Landt Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough NZ, £10), which was presented along side it. It’s hugely green, grassy, herbaceous, with gooseberry elements. It’s the usual Marlborough story, but very ‘Grand Cru’ in style by which I mean the flavours are the same as pretty much any Marlborough sauvignon (let’s face it), but the intensity is stepped up a notch. If that’s your preference, then it wins over the EQ, but mine is for a fresher, more interesting drink so I preferred the Chilean attempt.
Next a pair of chardonnays, starting with the 2004 Saronsberg Chardonnay (Tulbagh, South Africa, £10), a precocious wine. Ripe, woody nose. In fact the wine shows huge ripeness all round with loads of butter and spice. The palate is racy, with plump melons at their peak of ripeness and virtually oozing their juices. It reminds me of Chekhov’s story “The Lady with the Little Dog”, specifically the post-coital melon-eating moment. This wine seems to have a red-blooded tremor to it that is cooled by tropical fruit. I don’t think I could be happier than to drink it with roast chicken at about 4pm on a Sunday afternoon in May. Against it, the 2005 Domaine Mouscaillou Chardonnay (Limoux, £13) is a very ordinary pedestrian white that I wouldn’t bother with. The lady standing next to me (who was very nice, actually – her name was Caroline and we got chatting) said “vanilla”. But she didn’t mean vanilla the flavour she just meant that the wine was plain, and she’s right.
Then two very serious red Burgundies. The 1994 Domaine Confuron Cotetidot Vosne Romanee 1er Cru Les Suchots (£35) is pale red but bright, it has a lovely old school leathery nose. It’s a veritable luxury handbag of perfume – floral fragrance, burnt brandy, undergrowth, caramel, even a hint of coffee. On the palate it’s seamless, and trying to identify individual flavours is a complete waste of time. Definitely the most elegant wine of the night – a wine I would be delighted, well, to simply drink rather than study. Beside it, the the 1996 Domaine Confuron Cotetidot Bourgogne Rouge (£14) was a surprise and a revelation at less than half the price. An initially stinky nose gives way to cigar ash and pencil shavings (very Bordeauxy – blind, I took it for aged cabernet franc). The palate has supple jammy fruit, and is very silky with ripe grip.
To finish, not a pair, but rather a trio of Rhone-grape blends. The 2004 Domaine Marcoux Chateauneuf du Pape (£30) has an engaging nose – prune, port, intense fruitcake. The palate is big, ripe, juicy, spicy, with cloves, cinnamon, cocoa powder, coffee, bark and orange rind. An excellent example of the style. But beside it, it was the 2005 Santbru Portal de Montsant (£14), a blend of carignan, grenache and syrah, that drew gasps and cheers from the audience. Frighteningly purple, the nose shows marzipan and Christmas cake, with a porty liqueur-like palate. It’s hugely amplified – it smells sweet, finishes dry (sounds like an ad for deodorant…) and I can’t help but think it’s as if a side of bacon fell into a vat of port. It’s a huge wine but won’t be everybody’s cup of tea, not least mine. I admired Arnold Schwarzenegger in Pumping Iron, but it doesn’t mean I want to sleep with him, and it’s the same with this wine. It’s a “trophy wine”, and unlike some others, I don’t mean that as a compliment. It’s just too much, although I did end up buying a couple of bottles to put away for a rainy day when I’m bored of wines that I actually like to drink, because it is after all a very interesting wine for its sheer range of unusual flavours. Perhaps a happy medium between intensity and drinkability comes with the 2004 Domaine les Luquettes Bandol (£13) which Neil and I tried at St John on Saturday night. Intense nose – minerals, liquorice, bramble jam, toasty oak, the palate is rich and forthcoming with substantial grip on the end. Like Australian shiraz but without the sweetness. A nice plump wine but at the same time muscular, sinewy and toned. All right, enough with the body building analogies…
We started with a pair of sauvignons blancs. The 2006 Matetic Vineyards EQ Sauvignon Blanc (Chile, £9) is virtually clear. The nose is pungent, grassy, herbaceous, smoky, but in a balanced way. There is real interest on the palate, which shows smoke, salt, melons, passionfruit, pepper, a hint of sherbet. Real freshness, great length. It's about as complex and interesting as sauvignon blanc gets. I took it for Pouilly Fuimé, such was both its intensity and finesse. I preferred it to the 2006 Staete Landt Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough NZ, £10), which was presented along side it. It’s hugely green, grassy, herbaceous, with gooseberry elements. It’s the usual Marlborough story, but very ‘Grand Cru’ in style by which I mean the flavours are the same as pretty much any Marlborough sauvignon (let’s face it), but the intensity is stepped up a notch. If that’s your preference, then it wins over the EQ, but mine is for a fresher, more interesting drink so I preferred the Chilean attempt.
Next a pair of chardonnays, starting with the 2004 Saronsberg Chardonnay (Tulbagh, South Africa, £10), a precocious wine. Ripe, woody nose. In fact the wine shows huge ripeness all round with loads of butter and spice. The palate is racy, with plump melons at their peak of ripeness and virtually oozing their juices. It reminds me of Chekhov’s story “The Lady with the Little Dog”, specifically the post-coital melon-eating moment. This wine seems to have a red-blooded tremor to it that is cooled by tropical fruit. I don’t think I could be happier than to drink it with roast chicken at about 4pm on a Sunday afternoon in May. Against it, the 2005 Domaine Mouscaillou Chardonnay (Limoux, £13) is a very ordinary pedestrian white that I wouldn’t bother with. The lady standing next to me (who was very nice, actually – her name was Caroline and we got chatting) said “vanilla”. But she didn’t mean vanilla the flavour she just meant that the wine was plain, and she’s right.
Then two very serious red Burgundies. The 1994 Domaine Confuron Cotetidot Vosne Romanee 1er Cru Les Suchots (£35) is pale red but bright, it has a lovely old school leathery nose. It’s a veritable luxury handbag of perfume – floral fragrance, burnt brandy, undergrowth, caramel, even a hint of coffee. On the palate it’s seamless, and trying to identify individual flavours is a complete waste of time. Definitely the most elegant wine of the night – a wine I would be delighted, well, to simply drink rather than study. Beside it, the the 1996 Domaine Confuron Cotetidot Bourgogne Rouge (£14) was a surprise and a revelation at less than half the price. An initially stinky nose gives way to cigar ash and pencil shavings (very Bordeauxy – blind, I took it for aged cabernet franc). The palate has supple jammy fruit, and is very silky with ripe grip.
To finish, not a pair, but rather a trio of Rhone-grape blends. The 2004 Domaine Marcoux Chateauneuf du Pape (£30) has an engaging nose – prune, port, intense fruitcake. The palate is big, ripe, juicy, spicy, with cloves, cinnamon, cocoa powder, coffee, bark and orange rind. An excellent example of the style. But beside it, it was the 2005 Santbru Portal de Montsant (£14), a blend of carignan, grenache and syrah, that drew gasps and cheers from the audience. Frighteningly purple, the nose shows marzipan and Christmas cake, with a porty liqueur-like palate. It’s hugely amplified – it smells sweet, finishes dry (sounds like an ad for deodorant…) and I can’t help but think it’s as if a side of bacon fell into a vat of port. It’s a huge wine but won’t be everybody’s cup of tea, not least mine. I admired Arnold Schwarzenegger in Pumping Iron, but it doesn’t mean I want to sleep with him, and it’s the same with this wine. It’s a “trophy wine”, and unlike some others, I don’t mean that as a compliment. It’s just too much, although I did end up buying a couple of bottles to put away for a rainy day when I’m bored of wines that I actually like to drink, because it is after all a very interesting wine for its sheer range of unusual flavours. Perhaps a happy medium between intensity and drinkability comes with the 2004 Domaine les Luquettes Bandol (£13) which Neil and I tried at St John on Saturday night. Intense nose – minerals, liquorice, bramble jam, toasty oak, the palate is rich and forthcoming with substantial grip on the end. Like Australian shiraz but without the sweetness. A nice plump wine but at the same time muscular, sinewy and toned. All right, enough with the body building analogies…
Wednesday, 27 February 2008
Two Rhone blends and some unsolicited opinions
Two Rhone blends to accompany Neil’s excellent steak with Beaujolais reduction. It was supposed to be a Chianti reduction, but after half a bottle of the generic and tedious 2007 Georges Duboeuf Beaujolais Nouveau – which I might add that I only owned because I bought it for a blind tasting training session that never came to be – I insisted that it meet a fiery end by being burnt away in a dirty pan and poured over a dead cow. While we’re on the subject, I should settle the score on whether it is appropriate to use bad wine in sauces. Of course it is. People often cite the maxim “never cook with something you wouldn’t drink”. Rubbish. That maxim is as wrong as when Maitland said “equity acts in personam”. (For those of you who aren’t equity barristers, that means “very wrong”. As wrong as the UK’s decision to send Daz Sampson to Eurovision last year.) Cooking is the only use for bad wine. When I say “bad”, of course I do not mean “off”. Corked or oxidised wine should never be used in cooking. But mediocre/boring/cheap-but-not-faulty wines are best for cooking. You would be mad to use an expensive wine to cook a dish. It is as foolish and ostentatious as using a $100 bill to light a cigar, and nowhere near as hilarious. To think – on the one hand there are all these magazine articles and “Good Living” columns about precisely how many minutes to let your 11 year old fifth growths breathe, and where you can get bottle thermometers, and why you should spend hundreds of dollars on Riedel “Sommeliers” series crystal glasses and so forth, and then you turn to the recipe column and it says “take a bottle of 1982 Chateau Cos d’Estournel and add it to a jointed chicken and 4 cloves of garlic”. Madness!
Anyway, back to the Rhone blends that accompanied said repast, neither of which are from the Rhone Valley.
The 1999 Charles Melton Nine Popes (Barossa Valley) is flagship Australian in at least two respects. Being a grenache dominant blend, with shiraz and mourvedre in there too, it is obviously modelled on Chateauneuf du Pape, and indeed it is often cited for being the most “Rhonish” of Australian reds. Chateauneuf du Pape, of course, means “Pope’s New Castle” in French, not “Nine Popes Castle”, (“neuf” being often mistaken for “nine” and not “new”). Therein lies the first Australianism – complete misconstrual and/or disregard of tradition and history. Oh yes. Have you ever been to a “black-tie” dinner in Australia? They think it means “collared shirt, please”. Anyway, I shall put that to one side as I think it’s quite a nice name for a wine, despite its Catholic overtones – better than “Thrush Valley” or “Cockburn Ridge” or whatever the latest double entendre to find its way onto an Australian wine label is.
Now, the wine. It is excellent, of course. Not in the least bit Rhonish, but that is probably down to the FUCKLOADS OF AMERICAN OAK that bash you over the head the moment you stick your nose in the glass… Why oh why?? I am just so tired of Australian winemakers trying to emulate the old world in all the wrong ways. Australia used to be really excellent at making Shiraz/Cabernet blends until they realised that nobody else in the world made them. Then they tried to emulate the old world by blending shiraz with grenache etc and cabernet with merlot etc. That’s fine, except that shiraz and cabernet actually blend really well together and make a marvellous wine, and so to at least a small degree we have lost something iconic. (To be fair, there are still plenty of excellent shiraz/cabernet blends kicking around, like Penfold’s St Henri and Bin 389). Yet one thing that apparently few Australian winemakers have noticed is that THEY DON’T USE FUCKING AMERICAN OAK IN FRANCE! Yet do Australian winemakers abandon American Oak? Oh no… And so you have a sniff of Charles Melton Nine Popes and you get hit over the head with sweaty horses and bricks and must and crap that wouldn’t be there if they had use nice old French oak, and then only after that do you gain entry to an otherwise very beautifully integrated wine – coffee bean, sharp cherries, rounded Werther’s caramel, leather, beautiful integration, soft furry tannins. Lovely.
Next was the 2001 Chateau Camplazens (Coteaux du Languedoc), a gift from the lovely Greg whom we had invited to dinner. This wine simply has to be tasted to be believed. My God, it is savoury. Liquid meat. You could sluice this around a lion’s cage. Vegetarians should not go near it with a 10 foot barge pole. Heavy, raw, meat. Then once you get past that, you get to the dried meats. Peppery pastrami, salty bacon, and a thick palate. The wine had thrown a massive deposit, but I actually wouldn’t be surprised if it were pepper grounds added directly to the bottle. Massive.
In summary:
1. Don’t use expensive wine to cook with.
2. Australian winemakers, please stop using American oak.
3. I like meat and anything that exists as an homage to it, which I take savoury wines to be.
PS – Oxford thrashed Cambridge in varsity blind wine tasting yesterday, with my great mate Piers Barclay taking top taster and the Oxford captain, John Mead, not far behind in 3rd place on the individual scores. Congratulations to them, as well as Andras, Cici, George, Will and Charlie who made up the team. And please invite me back to do a few tastings before the international against France.
Anyway, back to the Rhone blends that accompanied said repast, neither of which are from the Rhone Valley.
The 1999 Charles Melton Nine Popes (Barossa Valley) is flagship Australian in at least two respects. Being a grenache dominant blend, with shiraz and mourvedre in there too, it is obviously modelled on Chateauneuf du Pape, and indeed it is often cited for being the most “Rhonish” of Australian reds. Chateauneuf du Pape, of course, means “Pope’s New Castle” in French, not “Nine Popes Castle”, (“neuf” being often mistaken for “nine” and not “new”). Therein lies the first Australianism – complete misconstrual and/or disregard of tradition and history. Oh yes. Have you ever been to a “black-tie” dinner in Australia? They think it means “collared shirt, please”. Anyway, I shall put that to one side as I think it’s quite a nice name for a wine, despite its Catholic overtones – better than “Thrush Valley” or “Cockburn Ridge” or whatever the latest double entendre to find its way onto an Australian wine label is.
Now, the wine. It is excellent, of course. Not in the least bit Rhonish, but that is probably down to the FUCKLOADS OF AMERICAN OAK that bash you over the head the moment you stick your nose in the glass… Why oh why?? I am just so tired of Australian winemakers trying to emulate the old world in all the wrong ways. Australia used to be really excellent at making Shiraz/Cabernet blends until they realised that nobody else in the world made them. Then they tried to emulate the old world by blending shiraz with grenache etc and cabernet with merlot etc. That’s fine, except that shiraz and cabernet actually blend really well together and make a marvellous wine, and so to at least a small degree we have lost something iconic. (To be fair, there are still plenty of excellent shiraz/cabernet blends kicking around, like Penfold’s St Henri and Bin 389). Yet one thing that apparently few Australian winemakers have noticed is that THEY DON’T USE FUCKING AMERICAN OAK IN FRANCE! Yet do Australian winemakers abandon American Oak? Oh no… And so you have a sniff of Charles Melton Nine Popes and you get hit over the head with sweaty horses and bricks and must and crap that wouldn’t be there if they had use nice old French oak, and then only after that do you gain entry to an otherwise very beautifully integrated wine – coffee bean, sharp cherries, rounded Werther’s caramel, leather, beautiful integration, soft furry tannins. Lovely.
Next was the 2001 Chateau Camplazens (Coteaux du Languedoc), a gift from the lovely Greg whom we had invited to dinner. This wine simply has to be tasted to be believed. My God, it is savoury. Liquid meat. You could sluice this around a lion’s cage. Vegetarians should not go near it with a 10 foot barge pole. Heavy, raw, meat. Then once you get past that, you get to the dried meats. Peppery pastrami, salty bacon, and a thick palate. The wine had thrown a massive deposit, but I actually wouldn’t be surprised if it were pepper grounds added directly to the bottle. Massive.
In summary:
1. Don’t use expensive wine to cook with.
2. Australian winemakers, please stop using American oak.
3. I like meat and anything that exists as an homage to it, which I take savoury wines to be.
PS – Oxford thrashed Cambridge in varsity blind wine tasting yesterday, with my great mate Piers Barclay taking top taster and the Oxford captain, John Mead, not far behind in 3rd place on the individual scores. Congratulations to them, as well as Andras, Cici, George, Will and Charlie who made up the team. And please invite me back to do a few tastings before the international against France.
Sunday, 10 February 2008
Six of one, half a dozen of the other
A week of blind tasting began on Wednesday with an impromptu visit from Nic, a mathematician friend and hopeful for the Oxford team this year. I took the opportunity to test him with a wine from his homeland, the 1992 JB Becker Wallufer Oberburg Auslese Riesling (£22), which he identified correctly, albeit 4 years out on the vintage (not bad for an aged wine). It’s a stunner, but definitely at the end of its viable life span. Deep gold, it has loads of honey, petrol, peach, and ripe melons on the nose. The entry is sweet, the palate powerful, with candied orange and petrol coming through. It’s really ripe and botrytised, but the acid has rather fallen away (a comment I made when I last tasted it a year ago, but even moreso now). Still extremely pleasant though.
In return, he brought a 2001 Marques del Romeral Rioja Reserva (£10) for me to try, which I manifestly failed to identify, which I put down to its anonymous, powerful, alcoholic, jammy “could be anything” style. It’s heady, and powerful, and to its credit it has lots going on – cherries, leather, jam, liquorice and fuckloads of oak (its American-ness well masked). Ultimately it's a well made wine but I simply can’t drink much of it, and don’t really want to, as it less individuality than even the Marks & Spencer food hall from which it was purchased.
On Saturday it was my turn to go up to Oxford with a case of wine for the team. Six whites were disappointing across the board, starting with the 2006 Loimer Gruner Veltliner (Kamptal, Austria, £10). Very pale and clear, the restrained nose shows faint pear, lime and citrus notes. The palate is ripe with high acidity, chalky minerality and only hint of white pepper on the finish. It’s actually a nice wine, (a few weeks ago I said it would be my house wine for the summer), but it wasn’t showing that well, with the rather faint nose and crisp but unexciting palate not really showing enough Gruner identity for blind tasting purposes.
The 2007 Springfield Estate Sauvignon Blanc (Robertson, South Africa, £9) followed, which I didn’t at all mind. Very pale, there was some visual spritz in the glazz. The nose is pungent, vegetal, salty, the palate herbaceous with some tropicality. I found it quite Marlborough in style. I was, however, alone, as most others found it aggressive, unclean, sweaty and un-charming.
The 2002 Zusslin Clos du Liebenberg Riesling (£12) was utterly disappointing (a wine I have been enthusiastic about on other occasions). It had a lustrous gold colour but an overbearing nose of caramel, botrytis, orange peel. The palate is overripe and flabby, the acid is fading, its Riesling identity horribly masked by the use of a whole slab of botrytis grapes in a dry wine. What a shame.
This was followed by the 2006 Duncan McGillvray ‘Beau Sea’ Viognier (Adelaide Hills, South Australia, £10). Mid straw in colour, it had a promising nose: floral, honeyed, even a hint of liquorice. But the palate palate is vegetal and viscous and any purity of fruit hidden by oak that acted like cotton wool around the flavour.
Another wine that has impressed on previous occasions, the 2004 Domaine des Forges ‘Clos du Papillon’ Savennieres (£12) was again disappointing. It presented as bright gold with a ripe nose of honeycomb and sandalwood, and faint dried apples. But it had lost all the vigour of its youth, the palate being distinctively woody, fat, flabby, herbal, and with none of the rasping acidity that I remember from previous bottles.
The white flight finished, unmercifully, with a bottle of 2002 Alfred Bonnet Freidelscheimer Schlossgarten Riesling (Pfalz, £9) that was heavily oxidised and could have been mistaken for apple juice.
The reds on the other hand were all displaying beautifully, and all textbook examples of their respective styles. We opened with 2005 Frederic Mabileau ‘Racines’ Bourgeuil (£12), which I reviewed last week, but that bears repetition. It was inky red-purple with fresh, peppery, crunchy fruit and a metallic streak. High in acid, very up front and vigorous.
Second, the 2001 Delas Marquise de la Tourette Hermitage (£26) – translucent brick red, with leather, chocolate, liqueur notes and loads of salted meats. Lean and savoury on the palate (“tomato soup” said Will) with red fruits and boiled lollies in the background. Not a heavy Hermitage at all, and I equivocate about whether it will get that much better in the future, but certainly drinking very well now.
1995 Faustino I Gran Riserva Rioja (£12), obtained by chance as a gift this week, was tawny in colour. Leathery, chocolatey nose with obvious spicy oak. “Mushrooms and earthiness”, observed others. Sweet vanilla comes through on the palate with sweet ripe cherries and soft ripe tannins. Personally I’m not really a fan of Rioja at all but it was showing well. Interestingly, those who got it wrong in the blind tasting mistook it for old Burgundy. John tells me that these two wines are very commonly confused with each other (an MW friend of the society even confessing as much). The reason why I find this interesting is that you see all these people creaming their pants over old Burgundy, but when was the last time you ever heard anyone bang on about Rioja, huh? Oh yeah, Burgundy, the poet’s wine, greatest wine in the world, transcendental, the search for the perfect bottle – mm, truffles, undergrowth etc etc. And yet poor old Rioja, mistaken for it in a blind tasting, languishes in frosted bottles at a fifth of the price on the bottom shelf at Tesco. Get your house in order, Burgundy fans and tell us what the big deal is.
From Spain to Italy, the 2004 Castella della Peneretta Chianti Classico (£10) had a restrained, very quiet nose that eventually shows a bit of cherry sherbet and sour cherries. There’s some vanilla and bitter fruit on tehpalate, with obviously grippy tannins at the end and very cleansing acid.
Continuing the theme of wines from countries that speak romance languages, the 2005 Montes Alpha Cabernet Sauvignon (Aconcagua Valley, Chile, £10) showed very typical smoked peppers (burnt matches, said others) and jammy ribena/blackcurrant fruit, caramel, and mint. There’s plenty going on, and the wine has a creamy, liqueur-like palate with well structured tannins. Not everyone’s favourite style (“like Ribena poured on a diesel engine” in Andras’s words), but I really quite enjoyed it.
And to finish, the obligatory claret, 2001 Chateau Barrabaque (Canon Fronsac, £11). I bought a case of this about a year ago and have been trying to get rid of it for ages (it’s filed under “allegedly good stuff that other people like, for giving as gifts but that I don’t really want to drink” in my cellar), as it tasted like nothing more than cedarwood and people shouting, even at an age where it was said to be at its best. Now, finally, when I only have 3 bottles left, it’s showing beautifully. Pure coffee beans, mint and cedar on the nose. The palate is as thick as the front row of the Canterbury Bulldogs, with weight of fruit, an attractive burnt brandy edge too. Lots of interest. Now I’m wishing I’d kept more than I had, and got rid of all those horrible whites that I unfortunately have quite a lot of left.
In return, he brought a 2001 Marques del Romeral Rioja Reserva (£10) for me to try, which I manifestly failed to identify, which I put down to its anonymous, powerful, alcoholic, jammy “could be anything” style. It’s heady, and powerful, and to its credit it has lots going on – cherries, leather, jam, liquorice and fuckloads of oak (its American-ness well masked). Ultimately it's a well made wine but I simply can’t drink much of it, and don’t really want to, as it less individuality than even the Marks & Spencer food hall from which it was purchased.
On Saturday it was my turn to go up to Oxford with a case of wine for the team. Six whites were disappointing across the board, starting with the 2006 Loimer Gruner Veltliner (Kamptal, Austria, £10). Very pale and clear, the restrained nose shows faint pear, lime and citrus notes. The palate is ripe with high acidity, chalky minerality and only hint of white pepper on the finish. It’s actually a nice wine, (a few weeks ago I said it would be my house wine for the summer), but it wasn’t showing that well, with the rather faint nose and crisp but unexciting palate not really showing enough Gruner identity for blind tasting purposes.
The 2007 Springfield Estate Sauvignon Blanc (Robertson, South Africa, £9) followed, which I didn’t at all mind. Very pale, there was some visual spritz in the glazz. The nose is pungent, vegetal, salty, the palate herbaceous with some tropicality. I found it quite Marlborough in style. I was, however, alone, as most others found it aggressive, unclean, sweaty and un-charming.
The 2002 Zusslin Clos du Liebenberg Riesling (£12) was utterly disappointing (a wine I have been enthusiastic about on other occasions). It had a lustrous gold colour but an overbearing nose of caramel, botrytis, orange peel. The palate is overripe and flabby, the acid is fading, its Riesling identity horribly masked by the use of a whole slab of botrytis grapes in a dry wine. What a shame.
This was followed by the 2006 Duncan McGillvray ‘Beau Sea’ Viognier (Adelaide Hills, South Australia, £10). Mid straw in colour, it had a promising nose: floral, honeyed, even a hint of liquorice. But the palate palate is vegetal and viscous and any purity of fruit hidden by oak that acted like cotton wool around the flavour.
Another wine that has impressed on previous occasions, the 2004 Domaine des Forges ‘Clos du Papillon’ Savennieres (£12) was again disappointing. It presented as bright gold with a ripe nose of honeycomb and sandalwood, and faint dried apples. But it had lost all the vigour of its youth, the palate being distinctively woody, fat, flabby, herbal, and with none of the rasping acidity that I remember from previous bottles.
The white flight finished, unmercifully, with a bottle of 2002 Alfred Bonnet Freidelscheimer Schlossgarten Riesling (Pfalz, £9) that was heavily oxidised and could have been mistaken for apple juice.
The reds on the other hand were all displaying beautifully, and all textbook examples of their respective styles. We opened with 2005 Frederic Mabileau ‘Racines’ Bourgeuil (£12), which I reviewed last week, but that bears repetition. It was inky red-purple with fresh, peppery, crunchy fruit and a metallic streak. High in acid, very up front and vigorous.
Second, the 2001 Delas Marquise de la Tourette Hermitage (£26) – translucent brick red, with leather, chocolate, liqueur notes and loads of salted meats. Lean and savoury on the palate (“tomato soup” said Will) with red fruits and boiled lollies in the background. Not a heavy Hermitage at all, and I equivocate about whether it will get that much better in the future, but certainly drinking very well now.
1995 Faustino I Gran Riserva Rioja (£12), obtained by chance as a gift this week, was tawny in colour. Leathery, chocolatey nose with obvious spicy oak. “Mushrooms and earthiness”, observed others. Sweet vanilla comes through on the palate with sweet ripe cherries and soft ripe tannins. Personally I’m not really a fan of Rioja at all but it was showing well. Interestingly, those who got it wrong in the blind tasting mistook it for old Burgundy. John tells me that these two wines are very commonly confused with each other (an MW friend of the society even confessing as much). The reason why I find this interesting is that you see all these people creaming their pants over old Burgundy, but when was the last time you ever heard anyone bang on about Rioja, huh? Oh yeah, Burgundy, the poet’s wine, greatest wine in the world, transcendental, the search for the perfect bottle – mm, truffles, undergrowth etc etc. And yet poor old Rioja, mistaken for it in a blind tasting, languishes in frosted bottles at a fifth of the price on the bottom shelf at Tesco. Get your house in order, Burgundy fans and tell us what the big deal is.
From Spain to Italy, the 2004 Castella della Peneretta Chianti Classico (£10) had a restrained, very quiet nose that eventually shows a bit of cherry sherbet and sour cherries. There’s some vanilla and bitter fruit on tehpalate, with obviously grippy tannins at the end and very cleansing acid.
Continuing the theme of wines from countries that speak romance languages, the 2005 Montes Alpha Cabernet Sauvignon (Aconcagua Valley, Chile, £10) showed very typical smoked peppers (burnt matches, said others) and jammy ribena/blackcurrant fruit, caramel, and mint. There’s plenty going on, and the wine has a creamy, liqueur-like palate with well structured tannins. Not everyone’s favourite style (“like Ribena poured on a diesel engine” in Andras’s words), but I really quite enjoyed it.
And to finish, the obligatory claret, 2001 Chateau Barrabaque (Canon Fronsac, £11). I bought a case of this about a year ago and have been trying to get rid of it for ages (it’s filed under “allegedly good stuff that other people like, for giving as gifts but that I don’t really want to drink” in my cellar), as it tasted like nothing more than cedarwood and people shouting, even at an age where it was said to be at its best. Now, finally, when I only have 3 bottles left, it’s showing beautifully. Pure coffee beans, mint and cedar on the nose. The palate is as thick as the front row of the Canterbury Bulldogs, with weight of fruit, an attractive burnt brandy edge too. Lots of interest. Now I’m wishing I’d kept more than I had, and got rid of all those horrible whites that I unfortunately have quite a lot of left.
Monday, 4 February 2008
In which I go to supermarket without incident
In recent times I have made significant inroads into kerbing my supermarket neuroses. For many years I had to put my groceries on the belt arranged into the 5 major food groups (fruit and vegetables first) then toiletries at the end. This is so that the first impression of the checkout chick (or chap) is that one is healthy, their last impression that one is clean. Now that I take a backpack to the supermarket I arrange things in weight order for ease of packing, although for some reason they always want to reach down the belt and take the eggs first, ruining my structural designs.
The one habit I cannot kick, though, is worrying about is other customers being judgmental about my wine choices (yes, I buy wine at the supermarket sometimes, got a problem?) Not so much because they might disagree with my objective selections (my taste being generally beyond reproach), but more that they might extrapolate from the other items in my basket to what I might pair the wine with, and impugn my selection accordingly. Being not as proficient at food and wine matching as some others, this makes me vulnerable to criticism, something to which I am usually impervious.
Last Thursday, however, I was open to attack on both fronts, because in a fit of idiocy and homesickness I chose a bottle of Wolf Blass Yellow Label Chardonnay hoping, naively as it turns out, to prove myself wrong in thinking that you can’t get a good wine in Waitrose Bloomsbury for under £7. I hid the bottle under some potatoes, milk and parsley (I was making fish pie) and scurried head down to the checkout. Luckily I needn’t have worried. The guy behind me had a can of baked beans, two rice puddings, a block of cheddar cheese and two bottles of pinot grigio, so he was hardly in a position to judge. I admire his honesty though – I’d rather be at his house for dinner than the woman who had a bottle of pink Moet, 20 plastic cups and some pre-made Waitrose tapas ready-presented in faux terracotta plastic dishes. Who does she think she’s kidding? Anyway, I won’t bore you with a description of the terminally disappointing Wolf Blass, except to say that it tastes how a lagerphone sounds – bland and abrasive.
I had to wait for Friday for decent chardonnay, by which time I had learnt my lesson and was squarely back in Burgundy. The 2005 Domaine Vincent Sauvestre Santenay (£10) has a healthy golden colour. It’s silky and buttery in the mouth, with good stone fruit presence. The oak is a tad sappy and the wine has perhaps a bit of a high chlorine note that doesn’t sit well, but otherwise very attractive.
On Sunday I had a second stab at the whole food/wine matching thing. An Austrian friend of mine came over for dinner with her posse. After an aperitif of 2006 Loimer Gruner Veltliner, I paired a starter of seared scallops with asparagus and scallop roe sauce (soundly like something from an Iron Chef scallop challenge…) with the 2006 Domaine Vocoret Chablis Premier Cru Vaillon (£12). I can’t remember how it tasted but it was really super. Very round – I was under a bit of stress what with all the cooking and forgot to take a note. Anyway you can get it at Majestic and it’s very good.
With a roast shoulder of lamb came the 2005 Frederic Mabileau Bourgueil 'Racines' (£12) and yes, wasn’t I being adventurous pairing a lively little cabernet franc with a traditional roast dinner? It worked beautifully actually – the wine has really lifted, up-front crunchy fruit: plum, cherry, blackcurrant leaf, mint, even a smoky, flinty dimension. Loads of interest and grippy tannins to finish. Then a claret, of course! The 1998 Chateau Potensac (£18 if you know where to look) is showing beautifully. It has an energetic nose – mint, ash, cigar box, and a rich, fatty palate of cassis liqueur that rolls over the tongue and down the gullet as edgelessly as the clarinet solo at the beginning of the slow movement of Rachmaninov’s C minor concerto. Sorry if that’s a bit inaccessible, but sometimes I get bored of words as a medium of expression.
The one habit I cannot kick, though, is worrying about is other customers being judgmental about my wine choices (yes, I buy wine at the supermarket sometimes, got a problem?) Not so much because they might disagree with my objective selections (my taste being generally beyond reproach), but more that they might extrapolate from the other items in my basket to what I might pair the wine with, and impugn my selection accordingly. Being not as proficient at food and wine matching as some others, this makes me vulnerable to criticism, something to which I am usually impervious.
Last Thursday, however, I was open to attack on both fronts, because in a fit of idiocy and homesickness I chose a bottle of Wolf Blass Yellow Label Chardonnay hoping, naively as it turns out, to prove myself wrong in thinking that you can’t get a good wine in Waitrose Bloomsbury for under £7. I hid the bottle under some potatoes, milk and parsley (I was making fish pie) and scurried head down to the checkout. Luckily I needn’t have worried. The guy behind me had a can of baked beans, two rice puddings, a block of cheddar cheese and two bottles of pinot grigio, so he was hardly in a position to judge. I admire his honesty though – I’d rather be at his house for dinner than the woman who had a bottle of pink Moet, 20 plastic cups and some pre-made Waitrose tapas ready-presented in faux terracotta plastic dishes. Who does she think she’s kidding? Anyway, I won’t bore you with a description of the terminally disappointing Wolf Blass, except to say that it tastes how a lagerphone sounds – bland and abrasive.
I had to wait for Friday for decent chardonnay, by which time I had learnt my lesson and was squarely back in Burgundy. The 2005 Domaine Vincent Sauvestre Santenay (£10) has a healthy golden colour. It’s silky and buttery in the mouth, with good stone fruit presence. The oak is a tad sappy and the wine has perhaps a bit of a high chlorine note that doesn’t sit well, but otherwise very attractive.
On Sunday I had a second stab at the whole food/wine matching thing. An Austrian friend of mine came over for dinner with her posse. After an aperitif of 2006 Loimer Gruner Veltliner, I paired a starter of seared scallops with asparagus and scallop roe sauce (soundly like something from an Iron Chef scallop challenge…) with the 2006 Domaine Vocoret Chablis Premier Cru Vaillon (£12). I can’t remember how it tasted but it was really super. Very round – I was under a bit of stress what with all the cooking and forgot to take a note. Anyway you can get it at Majestic and it’s very good.
With a roast shoulder of lamb came the 2005 Frederic Mabileau Bourgueil 'Racines' (£12) and yes, wasn’t I being adventurous pairing a lively little cabernet franc with a traditional roast dinner? It worked beautifully actually – the wine has really lifted, up-front crunchy fruit: plum, cherry, blackcurrant leaf, mint, even a smoky, flinty dimension. Loads of interest and grippy tannins to finish. Then a claret, of course! The 1998 Chateau Potensac (£18 if you know where to look) is showing beautifully. It has an energetic nose – mint, ash, cigar box, and a rich, fatty palate of cassis liqueur that rolls over the tongue and down the gullet as edgelessly as the clarinet solo at the beginning of the slow movement of Rachmaninov’s C minor concerto. Sorry if that’s a bit inaccessible, but sometimes I get bored of words as a medium of expression.
Sunday, 27 January 2008
Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport
What better way to celebrate Australia Day than with a swift bracket of tasty little numbers from downunder. I know I can get a little bit evangelical about Australian wine and how fucking awesome it can be, but I think this weekend’s experience confirms that I’m right in my views. Some observations:
1. White wine. Hello? Since when did Australian whites become this elegant? From Clare Riesling to Hunter Chardonnay I was really surprised with the refinement of the white wines. Typically they did not live up to the reputation of alcoholic fruit juice, with “pineapple lumps” notably absent from the tasting notes. Instead, elegance and complexity were found in spades.
2. Age them. Yes, I will admit that in a bracket of 6 or more reds, one does see the words “jam” and “caramel” come up with abundance, but with 10 years’ age or more, these wines really settle down to become generous wines, without aggression, and with plenty of interest from secondary flavours, as well as layers of fruit in abundance.
3. Freshness. Even in the reds, I’m pleased to report that even with high – sometimes massive – alcohol, the wines still have excellent acidity making them not too overwhelming. They’re still a bit too amplified for my liking in many cases, but it’s good to see that things are being kept in balance.
I started my warm up at lunch time Friday with a couple of Barossa Shirazes. The 2005 Colonial Estate Mungo Park Shiraz (£45) is everything about the current state of Australian wine in a single bottle. It is indeed a splendid wine, huge but fresh. It has a great peachiness to it and fresh acidity, but it is absolutely massive. 15.5% alcohol is more synonymous with McWilliam’s port drunk out of a brown paper bag on the steps of the war memorial in Hyde Park than a highly priced table wine. After about 3 mouthfuls I wanted to lurch outside and pick a fight with a random passer-by. The 2005 Gibson Shiraz is more in line with the traditional Barossa style: fresh ground coffee on the nose, an attractively jammy palate.
Then on Australia Day proper I headed up to Oxford for a Wines of Australia blind tasting.
We began the whites with the 2001 Brokenwood ILR Reserve Semillon (Hunter Valley, NSW) (£17). Semillon is a massively underrated grape, and I’m astonished that this is the only Hunter Semillon I could find on sale in London with a modicum of effort (although if you’re only going to have one, this is a good one). Still pale in colour, the nose is honeyed, with lime, wax, straw, and even a hint of toast coming through. The palate begins with tingly acid, leading to a tight lemony palate with a waxy edge. Very clean and pure, yet showing some attractive developed characters. Surely one of the world’s great wine styles.
We then moved onto the 2006 Knappstein Hand Picked Riesling (Clare Valley, SA) (£6). Clean citrus nose – fresh lime and Sunlight soap. Nic identified a hint of “India rubber”, which I quite agree with. The palate has loads of fresh lime, orange blossom and Granny Smith Apple. Piers thought it a bit flabby – and beside the ILR Semillon I must admit it appeared so, but it’s a bit unfair to put them side by side. For a budget wine, the Riesling performed admirably, and has plenty of acid. Great value.
The whites ended with the 2005 Tyrrell’s Vat 47 Chardonnay (Hunter Valley, NSW) (£18). Light gold, the nose is buttery, peachy with hazelnuts and some restrained French oak influence. The palate is medium bodied and peachy, with a rich creamy mouthfeel and elegantly high acid. An exercise in restraint and complexity, it really is a very complete wine that, despite coming from a very hot climate wine, comes across as very understated.
An extended bracket of reds began with the 2005 Punt Road Pinot Noir (Yarra Valley, Vic) (£11). It has a vinous nose with ripe strawberry jam characters. The palate is quite round and generous with ripe pinot flavours and a hint of caramelly oak. Well made. Although obviously New World in character it is a ripe and friendly without being bloated.
2005 Cape Mentelle Cabernet Merlot (Margaret River, WA) (£10)
Purple. Intense nose – coffee beans, aniseed, ripe green peppers, mint. Herbaceous. On the palate some caffe latte, cassis liqueur flavour and ripe soft tannins. Perhaps a bit young, it could age for a decade, easily. Piers wasn’t impressed with it, but I think it was a good example of the Margaret River style, although perhaps overbearing because of its youth.
2005 D’Arenberg “The Custodian” Grenache (McLaren Vale, SA) (£10)
This is where one begins to descend into anonymous heavyweight Australian red wine territory. Although individually a good wine, you could really just pick up any £10 Australian Rhone blend and it would be as attractive. Blackberry jam, damson plums, coffee bean, and something very hard to describe and raspberry like. I find Grenache terribly hard to describe. Other people’s use of strawberry and raspberry I find don’t quite hit the spot. For me the only word is “purple”. That bright purple that Ralph Wiggum gets around his mouth sometimes when he eats jam – that’s the flavour of Grenache. The acid was nice and crisp.
2005 Yering Station Shiraz Viognier (Yarra Valley, Vic) (£10)
Purple. Sweet jammy nose – spearmint, stone fruits. The wine has on orange/peachy hint that provides interest, with good tannic grip on the palate. I think this is a really attractive wine – a good house style.
2004 Fox Creek Short Row Shiraz (McLaren Vale, SA) (£15)
Dark Purple. Very typical McLaren Vale – caramel, liquorice, coffee on the nose. Rich unctuous palate, heavy and juicy. I really enjoy this wine but it didn’t seem to please the crowd as much as the Yering Station did. Perhaps the line-up was beginning to defeat them.
Over dinner, I opened two old favourites from my collection and we were not disappointed. They proved how superb and un-bloated Australian wines can become with a decent amount of age on them. Both were from the 1997 vintage, a fairly underrated vintage, squeezed between the excellent 1996 and 1998, but not to be overlooked.
1997 Grosset Gaia (Clare Valley, SA) (£30)
A blend of 75% Cabernet Sauvignon, 20% Cabernet Franc and 5% Merlot. Very expressive. Pure mint, leaves and dark chocolate on the nose. Sumptuous palate – fresh dark fruits, ripe supple tannins, mature but youthful. Drinking beautifully and will continue to do so for some time.
1997 Rockford Basket Press Shiraz (Barossa Valley, SA) (£60)
Dark red. Loads of elegant sweet fruit on the nosed – apricot, plum, and lashings of caramel. Rich syrupy palate, leathery, with fresh, lively acid. Soft and generous with a hint of burnt sugar on the finish. Fantastic.
Sunday, 20 January 2008
Red and Brown
This week I didn’t take a crap between Wednesday and Friday. Is that normal? I can only think of two things that might have provoked this problem (now allayed many times over, in case you care, although if you do I’d be worried about my demographic…) My flatmate has just started learning the saxophone, and I’ve taken to reading the London Review of Books whilst on the loo. I was sort of hoping that the combination of brown tones and purple prose would keep my bowels in their pre-existing state of equilibrium, but apparently not. Clearly too much saxophone. I swear to god that if Adam plays Fly Me to the Moon one more time with the same wrong note in bar 7 (he clearly hasn’t learnt the “sharp” sign yet), he’ll have that saxophone so far up him it will be him that isn’t shitting for days at a time.
Of course, the other thing about Wednesday and Thursday was that I didn’t drink. (Or Monday, for that matter, although that had no effect on my "regularity"). This is all part of my new “drink nice things a couple of times a week, not plonk several times a week” regime. But the new way did not serve me all that well this week.
On Tuesday night I was at the annual Denning Society dinner. As functions of this sort go, it’s quite nice really. You get a good meal, and for two years in a row now the after dinner speaker has been funny, and you get to dress up, and there are people less than 40 years one’s senior there. That’s pretty good as posh lawyer dinners go. At comparable events one usually listens to old farts say things like “Oh, you just can’t get a good hotel in London for under £400 a night” and you can’t even respond by saying “Oh come on, the Comfort Inn King’s Cross isn’t bad if the hookers are having a slow night” – instead you have to say “oh yes, yes, one’s better off staying at one’s club, although the tariff at the East India has been creeping up for the last few years.”
Even the wine wasn’t bad. With the fish course we had a 2006 Caves de Haut Poitou sauvignon blanc – fresh and inoffensive, with crisp tropical fruit, but nothing to detract from the sparkling conversation we were having about Lord Denning’s judgment in Vandervell's case. With the main course there was a 2003 Chateau Lescalle Bordeaux Superieur, which had respectable blackcurrant-driven cabernet fruit and a soft mouthfeel. The oak was of on a planet of its own, but you can’t have it all.
And that was it until Friday, when I pulled out a bottle of 2003 Te Awa Hawkes Bay Cabernet Merlot (£9). I’ve waxed rhapsodic about this wine in the past, but I must say that on subsequent occasions it has disappointed me. It works best decanted and with plenty of time to breathe, whence it shows lovely cool climate cabernet fruit. But on Friday (and also when I tried it before Christmas) it was thin on the palate, although still showing a good nose of mint, blackcurrant and plum pudding.
And that was it again until tonight. I’ve spent the day buying up wine for a couple of up-coming tastings, and decided to road-test the 2004 Castello della Paneretta Chianti Classico with my dinner (£12 at Majestic, £10 if you buy two or more). On its own it’s a bit of a wallflower – closed nose, vinous palate. But with food it comes into its own, with aromas of dark chocolate, cherries, dried herbs and spicy oak, and fresh acidity on the palate.
Adam has just started up again, so I’m going to put on Messiaen’s Quartet for the End of Time and pour another glass. Only the atonal can drown out the atonal. With the help of alcohol, that is.
Of course, the other thing about Wednesday and Thursday was that I didn’t drink. (Or Monday, for that matter, although that had no effect on my "regularity"). This is all part of my new “drink nice things a couple of times a week, not plonk several times a week” regime. But the new way did not serve me all that well this week.
On Tuesday night I was at the annual Denning Society dinner. As functions of this sort go, it’s quite nice really. You get a good meal, and for two years in a row now the after dinner speaker has been funny, and you get to dress up, and there are people less than 40 years one’s senior there. That’s pretty good as posh lawyer dinners go. At comparable events one usually listens to old farts say things like “Oh, you just can’t get a good hotel in London for under £400 a night” and you can’t even respond by saying “Oh come on, the Comfort Inn King’s Cross isn’t bad if the hookers are having a slow night” – instead you have to say “oh yes, yes, one’s better off staying at one’s club, although the tariff at the East India has been creeping up for the last few years.”
Even the wine wasn’t bad. With the fish course we had a 2006 Caves de Haut Poitou sauvignon blanc – fresh and inoffensive, with crisp tropical fruit, but nothing to detract from the sparkling conversation we were having about Lord Denning’s judgment in Vandervell's case. With the main course there was a 2003 Chateau Lescalle Bordeaux Superieur, which had respectable blackcurrant-driven cabernet fruit and a soft mouthfeel. The oak was of on a planet of its own, but you can’t have it all.
And that was it until Friday, when I pulled out a bottle of 2003 Te Awa Hawkes Bay Cabernet Merlot (£9). I’ve waxed rhapsodic about this wine in the past, but I must say that on subsequent occasions it has disappointed me. It works best decanted and with plenty of time to breathe, whence it shows lovely cool climate cabernet fruit. But on Friday (and also when I tried it before Christmas) it was thin on the palate, although still showing a good nose of mint, blackcurrant and plum pudding.
And that was it again until tonight. I’ve spent the day buying up wine for a couple of up-coming tastings, and decided to road-test the 2004 Castello della Paneretta Chianti Classico with my dinner (£12 at Majestic, £10 if you buy two or more). On its own it’s a bit of a wallflower – closed nose, vinous palate. But with food it comes into its own, with aromas of dark chocolate, cherries, dried herbs and spicy oak, and fresh acidity on the palate.
Adam has just started up again, so I’m going to put on Messiaen’s Quartet for the End of Time and pour another glass. Only the atonal can drown out the atonal. With the help of alcohol, that is.
Sunday, 13 January 2008
Wine Diary
I’m starting a drinking diary because I just don’t have that many profound thoughts about wine to write proper pieces on themes and hot issues in the wine world, like real wine writers do. But that was the original point of my blogging adventure in the first place, so I might as well give effect to it. Consider me a vinous Chris Gillett, the opera singer who photographed every meal he ate for a whole year and then exhibited his 2000+ photographs in a gallery in Bradford-on-Avon. Except that, sadly, I don’t drink every day, nor do I photograph the bottles. So I’m not really much like Chris Gillett at all. Anyway, this week’s adventures (plus other stuff I’ve drunk so far this year, noted retrospectively):
Friday 4 January 2008
2005 Yves-Boyer Martentot Meursault (£20)
Here’s a stunning wine. Golden. The only way I can describe the flavours that come out is that they form a “perfect score-order release”. That’s a musical term. It’s what an orchestra aims for when it finishes playing a sustained note: high instruments like piccolos stop playing a fraction of a second early, while tubas and double basses cut off last, so that to the listener the finish sounds in proportion. Like a pyramid of tumblers, you want the ones on top to jump off first, otherwise the whole thing collapses. This wine opens with high level delicate flavours – minerals, lemon, dried apples, white flowers, then blossoms into bigger things on the palate – stone fruit, vanilla, toasted marshmallows, integrated oak, and a lovely toasty finish. Highly complex – every mouthful offers something new. Could age for 2-5 years and be even better.
Saturday 5 January 2008
My parents were in town, from Sydney. In Sydney, you can take your own wine to restaurants, so you can actually drink something decent with your meal without paying an extortionate markup. You can’t do that in London (well, not usually), so rather than go out for dinner and keep the bill to a minimum by supping Kelly’s Revenge, I had them over for dinner, where I daresay both the food and wine would be better than anywhere within winter walking distance of my house.
2001 Reinhold Haart Piesporter Goldtropfschen Spätlese Riesling (£12)
Bright light gold, tinge of green. Delightfully aromatic nose of lime, green apples, white flowers and orange. Spritz on the entry, lemonade/sherbet sweetness, a slightly greasy hint, and fine acid on the finish, if not quite enough of it for my total satisfaction.
2001 Delas Marquis de la Tourette Hermitage (£16)
I had the 1999 of this wine a couple of weeks ago when my pupil master took me out for lunch. Mid red, brickish rim. Opulent nose of spicy oak, leather, chocolate, dried fruit, ground coffee, warm bricks, white pepper at times. It evolves in the glass, but always with a brandy/lit Christmas pudding streak. Palate is warm and rich, rounded, with supple tannins. Classic Hermitage. The 2001 is a completely different story. Bright translucent red, its colour is pinot-like. Forward nose, energetic, jammy, with roast meat aromas too. The palate is hyper-savoury, with white pepper and minerals, but quite restrained.
Sunday 6 January 2008
I had some very optimistic Rioja out of a tumbler at my local pub. They do fantastic food there. I’m not going to tell you where it is because then you might go there and ruin it.
Then I went to work for 4 days and didn’t drink at all. It was awful. There was the possibility of going to a Burgundy tasting on Tuesday but I don’t pay to go to wine tastings (only the gullible do that) and the person I was going to go with (the deal being that he would pay for my ticket if I talked him through Burgundy for the evening) apparently forgot, or decided not to go, or something.
Friday 11 January 2008
1999 Chateau Les Coustets Bordeaux Superieur
My cousin Tom gave me this for Christmas. He has worked in a bar so I trusted his judgment and didn’t immediately give it away as gift to someone I don’t like. But I’m afraid I won’t be praising this wine from the rooftops. It’s so pale that I probably could have passed an eye test reading the bottom line of the chart through this wine and still not needed to have my prescription increased. Similarly half-arsed fruit on the nose and a rather dilute palate, finishing with an offensive metallic aftertaste just in case you had any lingering doubts. Still, I only gave him a bottle of margarita mix, so it was a nice thought.
Saturday 12 January 2008
2005 Eugene Klipfel Cuvee Louis Klipfel Pinot Gris (£11)
I came across a cute little wine stall at the farmers’ market in Canterbury today, with a small but interesting range. They had the 2006 Loimer Gruner Veltliner there which I’ve been looking for ever since I tried it at Upper Glas (a Swedish restaurant in Islington that I recommend in its own right). It’s got a bright colour, hint of green. Very pure nose showing soft pear, grape and lime. Palate continues through with Tinkerbell delicacy, precise, razor sharp acid and a chalky finish. I think I’ll make this my house white this summer – Gruner has to be the next big thing (although the drinking public still has a lot of catching up to do with the many other “big things” that I have benevolently pointed out, all of which continue to be ignored), and I’ve tried some great ones recently. The 2005 Huber Gruner Veltliner, which you can get at any Oddbins (not usually the greatest advertisement for a wine) has a nose of lime, orange rind, white pepper and a hint of liquorice. Palate is very clean and austere, showing lemon and grapefruit flavours and great length. And the 2004 Loimer Kaferburg Gruner Veltliner is a really serious wine: reluctant nose – hint of minerals, lemon zest, apricot sherbet; peppery palate, really interesting. Anyway, back to my bloke in Canterbury. Since he had the Loimer I trusted his judgment and picked up as many whites as I could carry home (6 as it turns out), including this Pinot Gris, which I opened with dinner. The nose takes time to open up, and shows honey and hay when it does, along with an animalistic sweaty smell. The palate has some nice smoke and pear features, apricot, honeycomb and a bit of weight too. There is some interest here, which is welcome, but it’s not a wine to remember. Still, worth a try.
Sunday 13 January 2008
NV Chapel Down Downland Dry
Neil’s local pub in Canterbury, the Dolphin – a fantastic pub, incidentally – serves this English wine for about £11 a bottle. It’s a blend of Seyval Blanc, Reichensteiner and Muller Thurgau, but before you go turning your nose up at it, it’s a perfectly acceptable pub house wine. The nice thing about it is its crisp, refreshing acidity – such a welcome change to the usual cloy that cheap wine has (or so I’m told). There’s not much else going on – some fresh white fruit flavours, but it’s otherwise pretty forgettable. But I was more interested in other things – the log fire, the free board games, the dishy waiter, the immense length of the guy’s bum crack sitting at the next table (I just couldn’t stop looking at it – it must have had its own gravitational force) – oh, and the delicious prawns on toast with lemon mayonnaise. Delish.
Friday 4 January 2008
2005 Yves-Boyer Martentot Meursault (£20)
Here’s a stunning wine. Golden. The only way I can describe the flavours that come out is that they form a “perfect score-order release”. That’s a musical term. It’s what an orchestra aims for when it finishes playing a sustained note: high instruments like piccolos stop playing a fraction of a second early, while tubas and double basses cut off last, so that to the listener the finish sounds in proportion. Like a pyramid of tumblers, you want the ones on top to jump off first, otherwise the whole thing collapses. This wine opens with high level delicate flavours – minerals, lemon, dried apples, white flowers, then blossoms into bigger things on the palate – stone fruit, vanilla, toasted marshmallows, integrated oak, and a lovely toasty finish. Highly complex – every mouthful offers something new. Could age for 2-5 years and be even better.
Saturday 5 January 2008
My parents were in town, from Sydney. In Sydney, you can take your own wine to restaurants, so you can actually drink something decent with your meal without paying an extortionate markup. You can’t do that in London (well, not usually), so rather than go out for dinner and keep the bill to a minimum by supping Kelly’s Revenge, I had them over for dinner, where I daresay both the food and wine would be better than anywhere within winter walking distance of my house.
2001 Reinhold Haart Piesporter Goldtropfschen Spätlese Riesling (£12)
Bright light gold, tinge of green. Delightfully aromatic nose of lime, green apples, white flowers and orange. Spritz on the entry, lemonade/sherbet sweetness, a slightly greasy hint, and fine acid on the finish, if not quite enough of it for my total satisfaction.
2001 Delas Marquis de la Tourette Hermitage (£16)
I had the 1999 of this wine a couple of weeks ago when my pupil master took me out for lunch. Mid red, brickish rim. Opulent nose of spicy oak, leather, chocolate, dried fruit, ground coffee, warm bricks, white pepper at times. It evolves in the glass, but always with a brandy/lit Christmas pudding streak. Palate is warm and rich, rounded, with supple tannins. Classic Hermitage. The 2001 is a completely different story. Bright translucent red, its colour is pinot-like. Forward nose, energetic, jammy, with roast meat aromas too. The palate is hyper-savoury, with white pepper and minerals, but quite restrained.
Sunday 6 January 2008
I had some very optimistic Rioja out of a tumbler at my local pub. They do fantastic food there. I’m not going to tell you where it is because then you might go there and ruin it.
Then I went to work for 4 days and didn’t drink at all. It was awful. There was the possibility of going to a Burgundy tasting on Tuesday but I don’t pay to go to wine tastings (only the gullible do that) and the person I was going to go with (the deal being that he would pay for my ticket if I talked him through Burgundy for the evening) apparently forgot, or decided not to go, or something.
Friday 11 January 2008
1999 Chateau Les Coustets Bordeaux Superieur
My cousin Tom gave me this for Christmas. He has worked in a bar so I trusted his judgment and didn’t immediately give it away as gift to someone I don’t like. But I’m afraid I won’t be praising this wine from the rooftops. It’s so pale that I probably could have passed an eye test reading the bottom line of the chart through this wine and still not needed to have my prescription increased. Similarly half-arsed fruit on the nose and a rather dilute palate, finishing with an offensive metallic aftertaste just in case you had any lingering doubts. Still, I only gave him a bottle of margarita mix, so it was a nice thought.
Saturday 12 January 2008
2005 Eugene Klipfel Cuvee Louis Klipfel Pinot Gris (£11)
I came across a cute little wine stall at the farmers’ market in Canterbury today, with a small but interesting range. They had the 2006 Loimer Gruner Veltliner there which I’ve been looking for ever since I tried it at Upper Glas (a Swedish restaurant in Islington that I recommend in its own right). It’s got a bright colour, hint of green. Very pure nose showing soft pear, grape and lime. Palate continues through with Tinkerbell delicacy, precise, razor sharp acid and a chalky finish. I think I’ll make this my house white this summer – Gruner has to be the next big thing (although the drinking public still has a lot of catching up to do with the many other “big things” that I have benevolently pointed out, all of which continue to be ignored), and I’ve tried some great ones recently. The 2005 Huber Gruner Veltliner, which you can get at any Oddbins (not usually the greatest advertisement for a wine) has a nose of lime, orange rind, white pepper and a hint of liquorice. Palate is very clean and austere, showing lemon and grapefruit flavours and great length. And the 2004 Loimer Kaferburg Gruner Veltliner is a really serious wine: reluctant nose – hint of minerals, lemon zest, apricot sherbet; peppery palate, really interesting. Anyway, back to my bloke in Canterbury. Since he had the Loimer I trusted his judgment and picked up as many whites as I could carry home (6 as it turns out), including this Pinot Gris, which I opened with dinner. The nose takes time to open up, and shows honey and hay when it does, along with an animalistic sweaty smell. The palate has some nice smoke and pear features, apricot, honeycomb and a bit of weight too. There is some interest here, which is welcome, but it’s not a wine to remember. Still, worth a try.
Sunday 13 January 2008
NV Chapel Down Downland Dry
Neil’s local pub in Canterbury, the Dolphin – a fantastic pub, incidentally – serves this English wine for about £11 a bottle. It’s a blend of Seyval Blanc, Reichensteiner and Muller Thurgau, but before you go turning your nose up at it, it’s a perfectly acceptable pub house wine. The nice thing about it is its crisp, refreshing acidity – such a welcome change to the usual cloy that cheap wine has (or so I’m told). There’s not much else going on – some fresh white fruit flavours, but it’s otherwise pretty forgettable. But I was more interested in other things – the log fire, the free board games, the dishy waiter, the immense length of the guy’s bum crack sitting at the next table (I just couldn’t stop looking at it – it must have had its own gravitational force) – oh, and the delicious prawns on toast with lemon mayonnaise. Delish.
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