As some of you may know, my peerless knowledge of wine has finally been recognised by my being invited to be a face of the Emporia 2 range of wines (if you don’t know what I’m talking about, see: http://www.emporiabrands.com/brochure/winepages/vigouroux.htm).
If only. The real story is that I happen to know the wine account manager there (an old blind tasting friend who ended up going into the trade once she realised that a geography degree was a pretty useless qualification to have, and that you can get loads of free samples if you go into the wine trade), who was desperate for any passing person to pose with a bottle on account of real celebrities not being arsed to pose for a wine catalogue photo. My appearance fee being as low as it is (a free glass of wine will get me to show up almost anywhere, often uninvited), I was there quicker than you can start complaining about mark-ups on 2006 Bordeaux.
But what wine to choose to be the face of? This is very important, you see, not least because I get to keep said bottle after the photo shoot. (Sadly I really am that cheap). So you can bet your sweet bippy that I’m not going to choose a Fino Sherry that tastes like licking the side of a boat, or a £5 Australian Semillon/Sauvignon Blanc blend (I don’t work at the Airport Hilton anymore!) Sarah suggested a 2003 Margaux (2003 Chateau Mongravey (£36), incidentally – an elegant wine, perfumed, with very pure damson fruit), but the Bordelais don’t need my help to sell wine, so in the end I chose a 2003 Chateau de Haut Serre Cahors (£13) (note the price difference – even I am not so mercenary as to choose the most expensive wine for the sake of it). It is, of course, a superb wine. I would endorse nothing less. The nose is intensely ripe – mashed raspberries, blackberries, liquorice, and the palate tremendously amplified, with layers of jammy fruit, white pepper, a slight minerality and ripe tannins on the finish.
But the strengths of the Emporia 2 range do not stop there (given that I have declared my interest in this range I have no qualms in going on to plug the other wines in it).
I recommend the 2002 Clos Liebenberg Riesling (£13) and 2004 Bollenberg Gewurtztraminer (£15), both from Domaine Zusslin in Alsace. The Riesling is beginning to develop some powerful petrolly notes on the nose, whilst retaining purity and elegance on the palate, with hints of apricot and caramel making the wine taste like more than just alcoholic lime juice. The Gewurtz shows delicious clean pears (I wrote ‘peas’ in my tasting note but I’m pretty sure I meant ‘pears’ – I’ve never taste a wine that smells like peas…) and lychee on the nose, with a hint of orange. The palate has great length and freshness for a Gewurtz, whilst retaining that lovely oiliness that gives Gewurtz its character.
Next, the wines of Maison Jean-Luc & Paul Aegerter, an exemplary portfolio of Burgundies from the stunning 2005 vintage that, while expensive, are worth every cent (or possibly every ‘scent’ – geddit?) The 2005 Meursault Premier Cru Poruzots (£26) has an oily, nutty nose, showing hazelnuts and almonds. The palate is elegant, with soft white fruits, apple and pear liqueur. The 2005 Beaune Premier Cru les Reversees Blanc (£28) is at the other end of the scale with spicy oak, grapefruit, stone fruit, butter, and a soft, persistent finish. But of the whites, the 2005 Chassagne-Montrachet les Embazees (£37) was by far my favourite. This wine has no corners. It is one of those great wines that doesn’t taste of peach or nuts or whatever, it just tastes of ‘wine’. A complete, highly integrated wine with serious persistence and finesse. The reds are also worth dwelling upon. First the 2005 Beaune Premier Cru Les Reversees (£23) shows pronounced raspberry and ripe cherry flavours with an earthy backbone and very open palate while the 2005 Gevrey Chambertin (£25) is more plummy and rosy-cheeked, with an herbaceous, vegetal streak to it. My favourite, though, was the 2005 Nuits St Georges Premier Cru les Damodees (£32) – highly perfumed violet, lavender and marzipan aromas leap from the glass, with an attractive yet structured cherry liqueur palate.
When the Beastie Boys said “Like a bottle of Chateauneuf-du-Pape/I’m like a fine wine when I start to rap” (Body Movin’, 1998) they were probably thinking of the famous red stuff rather than the much rarer white Chateauneuf. I don’t know. If anybody runs into Mike D or Ad-Rock maybe they could ask. But the statement could certainly apply to the 2006 Domaine de la Presidente Chateauneuf-du-Pape Blanc (£20), in so far as the lyric makes any sense at all, that is. This wine is part of a corpus of white Chateaneuf that reminds me that this appellation is highly underrated and should be added to the list of trends that should be happening but sadly aren’t. The nose begins soft and clean, with fresh mandarin, soft caramel, white peach and apricot stones, all courtesy of the dominant Grenache blanc grape. On the palate there is more serious marzipan and almond flavours giving the wine an agreeable bitterness and interest.
All the wines can be ordered from Arthur Rackham Emporia: http://www.ar-emporia.com/Public/index.php
Sunday, 7 October 2007
Thursday, 2 August 2007
Pink – it’s for shirts and ties, not wine
Rosé is very popular at the moment, so much so that people whose binge of choice is flavoured vodka or alcopops and who wouldn’t usually touch a glass of wine with a 10 foot barge pole are now to be seen ordering pink wine by the bucketload across the pubs and bars of England.
Trends in wine consumption are nothing new. Indeed I have jumped on pretty much any band wagon that has gone past in the last 10 years – the “anything but Chardonnay” trend of the late 1990s, followed by the “actually Chardonnay is very nice can we have it back please?” trend of the early 2000s (sort of how we flirted with cargo pants around 1999 as an alternative to jeans, before we realised that pockets on the outside of trousers was patently ridiculous, and that you can wear the same jeans for more than four days without needing to write a song about it – I think I’ve had mine on for about 3 weeks now without anyone noticing – and came running back to jeans and have been wearing them ever since); then there was the “Viognier” trend, the “Pinot” trend after the film Sideways came out, and now the “South America” and "Low Alcohol Wines" trends. (Incidentally, Mosel Riesling and Hunter Semillon have always been 'low alcohol' - it wasn't invented in the lab down at Tesco, as much as they would like you to believe it was). All very good trends, excellent, keep them coming.
But pink wine? The wine press has been quick to sing the praises of pink wine with all sorts of articles along the lines of “you thought pink wine was shit – well you’re wrong, it can actually be quite nice.”
Well, this piece takes the opposite view – pink wine is shit, the masses are wrong, and there are structural reasons why pink wine cannot be serious.
One such pro-pink article (at least half heartedly) is ‘Can Rosé ever be a serious wine?’ by Joanna Simon in the August edition of Decanter magazine. Her argument is that people dismiss pink wine because it is rarely oaked, designed to be drunk young, and therefore not worthy of serious consideration; but that because there are plenty of serious unoaked, drink-now wines (e.g. Sancerre) we should not dismiss pink wine on these bases. That is perfectly fine, and I agree that these are not reasons why pink wine should be derided. But it does not follow that there are not other reasons why pink wine is no good – Simon does not cover the field of reasons why pink wine is, well, not as good as proper red and white wine.
My main argument would be that pink wine can never be serious because it is pink. This is not some sort of joke. Pink wine is not made from pink grapes. It is made by either adding red and white grapes together, or squeezing red grapes without letting the pigment in the skin colour the wine beyond the desired level of pinkness.
Basically, pink wine arises because the natural process of winemaking that results in the best expression of any particular grape has been interfered with, either by adding to or subtracting from the normal course of winemaking. And that pretty much always comes at a cost. In the case of pink wine, the cost is that the resultant wine not only rarely has any varietal definition, but this Frankenstein of wines doesn’t even provide us with a product that does a job not already done by some other wine.
There are, of course, several wines that rely on interfering with the natural course of wine making but that are nevertheless masterpieces – Champagne, Amarone, Sherry, or any fortified wine for that matter. But there are usually good reasons why these gimmicks work. They originally put bubbles in Champagne by accident, and if you tried flat wine from Champagne it would turn your face inside out, so the bubbles are an improvement. In making Valpolicella, the technique of drying part of the harvest so that some of the wine is effectively made from raisins has resulted in a wine far superior in intensity and flavour than the relatively insipid stuff that results when this method is not employed. Similar reasons exist for fortifieds – for example the Palomino grape is very bland so making it into Sherry makes sense; Pedro Ximénez only shines as a fortified wine.
But to my mind there isn’t a similar excuse for Rose. It is neither geographically necessary, nor the best expression of any grape from which it is made, nor a delightful accident.
Pink supporters will probably rejoin with some cant about how, technicality aside, in summer time it is just nice to drink chilled pink wine that is zingy and fresh but with some nice red fruity, lolly water characters to it. Well, point number one is that if you want a wine to taste like lolly water you already agree that pink wine is crap. (I don't mind if you like crap - I do mind if you claim it to be a serious contribution to the wine portfolio though). But moreover, I just don’t think it’s possible to combine the zingy acidity of crisp whites with the red fruit of light reds and have a product that combines the two. The moment you introduce the characteristics of red wine to white, you are shackling the ability of white wine to do what it does best. It would be like putting a brick in Margot Fonteyn’s underpants, or asking Barney Gumble to sing the ‘mad’ scene from Lucia di Lammermoor. As much as we might want to combine the best of two things we like, this can’t always be done. As Simon Marchmant from Posh Nosh would say: “Never buy anything that calls itself shampoo and conditioner. It won’t do either.” Mixing white and red doesn’t make some sort of ‘super wine’ – it is the worst of both worlds.
I don’t doubt for a minute that within the pink wine genre, there are some that are better than others, and some very skilled winemakers plying their trade. I just think it’s a waste of time. I shouldn't complain though - it leaves more of the good stuff for the rest of us, I suppose.
Monday, 9 July 2007
You are what you drink
I’ve been asked for my opinions on what ‘brow’ classification certain wines fall under. For those unfamiliar, the ‘brow’ classification divides life on earth into four categories – Highbrow Highbrow, Lowbrow Highbrow, Highbrow Lowbrow and Lowbrow Lowbrow. It first came to my attention in an Honi Soit article reviewing pub trivia venues in the vicinity of Sydney University. I have found it most efficacious for classifying everything else too.
The classification applies to both things and attitudes towards things. Highbrow Highbrow is the ultimate in the evolution of any field, like a Doctor of Letters from Oxford University, the works of Joyce or Proust, The Rite of Spring by Stravinsky, shirts from Turnbull & Asser.
Lowbrow Highbrow is its poor imitation – things that attempt to rival true Highbrow Highbrow but fail miserably, yet are still loved by those with a little learning and loads of cash. Members of this category include MBA degrees, Tim Winton novels, classical music compilations such as ABC Classic FM’s ‘Swoon’ collection, Rockpool restaurant, Armani suits, the(sydney)magazine.
Highbrow Lowbrow is my favourite category – its members don’t pretend to greatness but are the greatest things of the everyday – Agatha Christie novels, sausages and mash, Wife Swap, Naxos CDs, yum cha.
And Lowbrow Lowbrow is pretty self explanatory – Lowes, shop-a-docket, Panthers World of Entertainment, greyhound racing, The Jeremy Kyle Show.
This classification is not, repeat NOT meant to be a hierarchy. One’s life may, indeed probably does, (and really should for the sake of life experience alone), transcend the brows. A great friend of mine went to Eton, studied classics at Oxford and is related to Earl Grey (of tea fame), and even he likes Desperate Housewives and Sainsbury’s pepperoni pizza. (As do I). The only category really worthy of scorn is LH – the hallmark of LHness is being able to afford to do better, but choosing not to (or being culpably ignorant of the possibility).
So here is my first attempt to classify some wines (and wine writers) into the four brows. I welcome challenges and challengers to my selections. With any luck this might begin to partner scores and star ratings as a method of assessing wine.
Highbrow Highbrow
Grand Cru Burgundy. Ah, Burgundy. Loftily inaccessible labels, expensive wine the quality of which varies so much that you basically need an MW to even navigate the Burgundy section in any wine shop – but superb, intellectual wine that you probably won’t like the first 50 times you drink it.
Classed Growth Bordeaux (other than First Growth). Current favourites of mine include Ch Leoville-Barton, Ch Cos d’Estournel, Ch Kirwan, Ch d’Armailhac. Same comments as for Burgundy, but at least Bordeaux is more accessible, consistent and immediately likeable. Where are the First Growths? Well, it’s hard to say whether they are HH or LH. It’s probably true that Chateau Latour 1982 is one of the greatest wines ever made, but at over £1000 a bottle (if you can get it) is it really worth the price? How much better can it really be than any of the super-seconds from the same year, at a fraction of the price?
Hungarian Tokay. The thinking man’s sweet wine, that draws quizzical looks when brought to a dinner party but is universally admired once tasted.
Barolo. The king of Italian wines. Difficult to appreciate, but rewards persistence. I once witnessed a conversation about Barolo that I think gives the gist of it: “You know, I just don’t understand Barolo.” “Well, it’s like ‘la la la, I’m riding through a cherry orchard! Oh, there are some roses…’ then getting bashed over the head with an oak plank.”
Vintage Port. If I ever get gout I hope it’s from drinking VP. It takes decades to mature, but when it does, you’ll never be able to look at another bottle of Penfold’s Club Port ever again.
Jancis Robinson MW. Not a wine, but a wine writer – the first woman to get an MW, the first non-wine industry person to get an MW. Her knowledge is unparalleled (if you don’t believe me, go read Vines, Grapes and Wines – they didn’t have Wikipedia when it was published in the 1980s, so she can’t have cheated), her writing accessible, her attitude correct (although far be it for me to even offer my opinion). I’ve been in the same room as her twice. The first time, she brought a 1993 Josephshofer Von Kesselstatt Spätlese Riesling to the OUWC Christmas Tasting, and was my introduction to what is now one of my favourite styles. The second time I got to speak to her. It was after the varsity blind tasting match and I had been awarded a tasting prize so I dared to ask her what my score was. She said “I can’t remember but it can’t have been that bad.” Dismissive, and rightly so.
Lowbrow Highbrow
Penfold’s Grange. Australia’s greatest wine, allegedly. I don’t think so, and I don’t really know any serious wine enthusiast that does. Or at least, I don’t know anyone who doesn’t think that the likes of Rockford Basket Press Shiraz, Mount Langi Ghiran Langi Shiraz, or Cullen Cabernet Merlot don’t equal it, at a fraction of the price. Doubtless, Grange is an excellent shiraz, and historically very important - Max Schubert made it in secret after being told by Penfold's to stop making it after the first vintage. It was a breakthrough wine that proved Australia was capable of producing serious table wine. But these days, with so many other good wines on the market, its price reflects its for show-off value, not the contents of the bottle. Want proof? I once served a bottle of 1971 Grange Hermitage ($1400 a bottle) to a table of Japanese businessmen who ate it with Singapore Noodles, the chilli in which would have ruined any ability to properly taste and appreciate the wine.
Prestige Cuvee Champagne, such as Cristal. The Champenois unashamedly say that they produce these wines for the sake of image and don’t really care that their target purchasers don’t appreciate them. Hubert de Billy of Pol Roger told me once that ‘People want to drink what the rapper drinks, or what Winston Churchill drank’ and that prestige cuvees are made for the ‘money to burn’ set that want the story behind the wine rather than the wine itself. (Indeed Champagne Pommery have just released a champagne in a blue bottle that is claimed to be ‘specially blended to be drunk from the bottle or through a straw’ in order to capitalise on recent media images!) Louis Roederer NV is probably the best NV around, but it is ignored in favour of Louis Roederer Cristal, which, for all the fanfare, isn’t that much better (if it is better at all). Pol Roger Cuvee Sir Winston Churchill wasn’t made until 10 years after its namesake died, so people who drink it because they want to drink what Churchill drank are kidding themselves. It’s a fine drink, let there be no doubt, but why are the excellent vintage champagnes (Pol Roger Vintage is at the same quality level if you ask me, and is the stuff that Churchill actually drank) ignored in favour of prestige cuvees? We can also lump into this bracket the likes of Moet et Chandon NV, which is nowhere near as good as other NVs at or around the same price, like Louis Roederer, Pol Roger, or Billecart Salmon, but that people still drink to feel posh.
Leeuwin Estate Art Series Sauvignon Blanc. Leeuwin Estate Art Series Chardonnay is one of the best Chardonnays produced in Australia. Yet in a restaurant I used to work in, sales of its Sauvignon Blanc far outstripped sales of the Chardonnay, and it is a much worse, much cheaper wine. My theory: the desire for the Art Series label without having to pay the price of the Chardonnay. Unfortunately the Chardonnay is much better than the Sauvignon Blanc, so the prestige doesn’t transfer across. And there are many better Sauvignons for the price (such as virtually any Sancerre or Pouilly Fume).
Anything with a medal on the label. Show medals don’t mean anything. Most people don’t even know that a gold medal does not denote first place at a wine show. It denotes any wine that receives over a certain score in its class. And if that is “Bundanoon Back Yard Tasting Club Class 22 – Chardonnay under $5” then it’s no proud boast. I once examined a bottle resplendent in a gold medal, the medal sticker reading, in 6 point font “Organic” – it wasn’t even a wine show prize medal! If that’s not an attempt to mislead or deceive, than I don’t know what is.
Robert Parker. Sadly the world’s most influential wine writer. Even more sadly, his preference is for overblown, far-too-alcoholic, porty reds. (He regularly gives 100% scores to Barossa Shirazes that I can’t drink more than half a glass of before being under the table). Why must people listen to him so much?
Highbrow Lowbrow
I hope no LH types are reading this – all the good stuff might become popular.
Sherry. Not just ‘dry, medium or sweet’, good sherry is a revelation, and relatively inexpensive. Try a fresh Manzanilla, a nutty Palo Cortado, a rich Oloroso or a delicious sweet Pedro Ximénez from good bodegas like Hidalgo, and you’ll see what I mean.
Virtually all Spanish and Chilean wines. Great quality, supple flavours, some really interesting styles, and reasonable prices.
German Riesling. Still suffering from the image of the likes of Blue Nun and generic Liebfraumilsch, there are some great bargains to be had, even of rare and aged wines. I recently obtained a bottle of 1992 Reinhold Haart Piersporter Goldtropfschen Kabinett Riesling for only £10 and it’s one of the best wines I’ve ever had. (Actually, that wine probably belongs in the HH department).
Beaujolais. Often mocked, but great to drink in summer, and very cheap.
Wines from little-known appellations, particularly in the South of France. This is where it’s all happening. Loads of great stuff is coming out of Provence (tried any Bandol lately?) and the Midi, much interesting and affordable. And then there are the loads of wines that because of the tyranny of the appellation system can’t use words on their labels that would get them loads of customers. Everyone’s heard of Chateauneuf-du-Pape, but not many have tried Lirac, virtually next door, with some excellent producers. Henri Milan ‘Le Grand Blanc’ is a superb wine that is only ‘Vin de Table’ classification. And then you have Cahors, Bergerac – fantastic wines that give Bordeaux a real run for its money.
Mark Shield. The greatest wine (and beer) writer that ever lived. He never spat when judging wine, even if faced with a bracket of 100 shirazes. For that he earned the nickname ‘dry bucket’. What a man.
Lowbrow Lowbrow
Well, I could go on for ever here, about virtually any wine under $10. But I single some out for particular attention.
Fetzer Coldwater Creek. I don’t just mention this wine because it is the first wine to be served ‘on tap’ like beer from JD Wetherspoon pubs. You could, theoretically, put good wine on tap, but as a rule of thumb, the more a vessel deviates from a 750mL capacity, the worse its contents. On that scale, a 115 litre keg foreshadows a dismal beverage. This is truly awful stuff. I made a New Year’s Resolution about 4 years ago to never drink bad alcohol ever again. I’ve only breached it a few times, but one of the most memorable of them was when I was served this wine at a recent university function. I only had the red (I think it’s a Cabernet/Shiraz blend). God it’s dreadful. It tastes of metal, beer and tomato sauce. Truly disgusting.
Golden Oak Sherry. This drink is very close to my heart. I used to use it for cooking if I couldn’t get rice wine. A friend of mine and I calculated that it is the cheapest drink available in a Sydney bottle shop, coming out at about $0.36 per standard drink.
The classification applies to both things and attitudes towards things. Highbrow Highbrow is the ultimate in the evolution of any field, like a Doctor of Letters from Oxford University, the works of Joyce or Proust, The Rite of Spring by Stravinsky, shirts from Turnbull & Asser.
Lowbrow Highbrow is its poor imitation – things that attempt to rival true Highbrow Highbrow but fail miserably, yet are still loved by those with a little learning and loads of cash. Members of this category include MBA degrees, Tim Winton novels, classical music compilations such as ABC Classic FM’s ‘Swoon’ collection, Rockpool restaurant, Armani suits, the(sydney)magazine.
Highbrow Lowbrow is my favourite category – its members don’t pretend to greatness but are the greatest things of the everyday – Agatha Christie novels, sausages and mash, Wife Swap, Naxos CDs, yum cha.
And Lowbrow Lowbrow is pretty self explanatory – Lowes, shop-a-docket, Panthers World of Entertainment, greyhound racing, The Jeremy Kyle Show.
This classification is not, repeat NOT meant to be a hierarchy. One’s life may, indeed probably does, (and really should for the sake of life experience alone), transcend the brows. A great friend of mine went to Eton, studied classics at Oxford and is related to Earl Grey (of tea fame), and even he likes Desperate Housewives and Sainsbury’s pepperoni pizza. (As do I). The only category really worthy of scorn is LH – the hallmark of LHness is being able to afford to do better, but choosing not to (or being culpably ignorant of the possibility).
So here is my first attempt to classify some wines (and wine writers) into the four brows. I welcome challenges and challengers to my selections. With any luck this might begin to partner scores and star ratings as a method of assessing wine.
Highbrow Highbrow
Grand Cru Burgundy. Ah, Burgundy. Loftily inaccessible labels, expensive wine the quality of which varies so much that you basically need an MW to even navigate the Burgundy section in any wine shop – but superb, intellectual wine that you probably won’t like the first 50 times you drink it.
Classed Growth Bordeaux (other than First Growth). Current favourites of mine include Ch Leoville-Barton, Ch Cos d’Estournel, Ch Kirwan, Ch d’Armailhac. Same comments as for Burgundy, but at least Bordeaux is more accessible, consistent and immediately likeable. Where are the First Growths? Well, it’s hard to say whether they are HH or LH. It’s probably true that Chateau Latour 1982 is one of the greatest wines ever made, but at over £1000 a bottle (if you can get it) is it really worth the price? How much better can it really be than any of the super-seconds from the same year, at a fraction of the price?
Hungarian Tokay. The thinking man’s sweet wine, that draws quizzical looks when brought to a dinner party but is universally admired once tasted.
Barolo. The king of Italian wines. Difficult to appreciate, but rewards persistence. I once witnessed a conversation about Barolo that I think gives the gist of it: “You know, I just don’t understand Barolo.” “Well, it’s like ‘la la la, I’m riding through a cherry orchard! Oh, there are some roses…’ then getting bashed over the head with an oak plank.”
Vintage Port. If I ever get gout I hope it’s from drinking VP. It takes decades to mature, but when it does, you’ll never be able to look at another bottle of Penfold’s Club Port ever again.
Jancis Robinson MW. Not a wine, but a wine writer – the first woman to get an MW, the first non-wine industry person to get an MW. Her knowledge is unparalleled (if you don’t believe me, go read Vines, Grapes and Wines – they didn’t have Wikipedia when it was published in the 1980s, so she can’t have cheated), her writing accessible, her attitude correct (although far be it for me to even offer my opinion). I’ve been in the same room as her twice. The first time, she brought a 1993 Josephshofer Von Kesselstatt Spätlese Riesling to the OUWC Christmas Tasting, and was my introduction to what is now one of my favourite styles. The second time I got to speak to her. It was after the varsity blind tasting match and I had been awarded a tasting prize so I dared to ask her what my score was. She said “I can’t remember but it can’t have been that bad.” Dismissive, and rightly so.
Lowbrow Highbrow
Penfold’s Grange. Australia’s greatest wine, allegedly. I don’t think so, and I don’t really know any serious wine enthusiast that does. Or at least, I don’t know anyone who doesn’t think that the likes of Rockford Basket Press Shiraz, Mount Langi Ghiran Langi Shiraz, or Cullen Cabernet Merlot don’t equal it, at a fraction of the price. Doubtless, Grange is an excellent shiraz, and historically very important - Max Schubert made it in secret after being told by Penfold's to stop making it after the first vintage. It was a breakthrough wine that proved Australia was capable of producing serious table wine. But these days, with so many other good wines on the market, its price reflects its for show-off value, not the contents of the bottle. Want proof? I once served a bottle of 1971 Grange Hermitage ($1400 a bottle) to a table of Japanese businessmen who ate it with Singapore Noodles, the chilli in which would have ruined any ability to properly taste and appreciate the wine.
Prestige Cuvee Champagne, such as Cristal. The Champenois unashamedly say that they produce these wines for the sake of image and don’t really care that their target purchasers don’t appreciate them. Hubert de Billy of Pol Roger told me once that ‘People want to drink what the rapper drinks, or what Winston Churchill drank’ and that prestige cuvees are made for the ‘money to burn’ set that want the story behind the wine rather than the wine itself. (Indeed Champagne Pommery have just released a champagne in a blue bottle that is claimed to be ‘specially blended to be drunk from the bottle or through a straw’ in order to capitalise on recent media images!) Louis Roederer NV is probably the best NV around, but it is ignored in favour of Louis Roederer Cristal, which, for all the fanfare, isn’t that much better (if it is better at all). Pol Roger Cuvee Sir Winston Churchill wasn’t made until 10 years after its namesake died, so people who drink it because they want to drink what Churchill drank are kidding themselves. It’s a fine drink, let there be no doubt, but why are the excellent vintage champagnes (Pol Roger Vintage is at the same quality level if you ask me, and is the stuff that Churchill actually drank) ignored in favour of prestige cuvees? We can also lump into this bracket the likes of Moet et Chandon NV, which is nowhere near as good as other NVs at or around the same price, like Louis Roederer, Pol Roger, or Billecart Salmon, but that people still drink to feel posh.
Leeuwin Estate Art Series Sauvignon Blanc. Leeuwin Estate Art Series Chardonnay is one of the best Chardonnays produced in Australia. Yet in a restaurant I used to work in, sales of its Sauvignon Blanc far outstripped sales of the Chardonnay, and it is a much worse, much cheaper wine. My theory: the desire for the Art Series label without having to pay the price of the Chardonnay. Unfortunately the Chardonnay is much better than the Sauvignon Blanc, so the prestige doesn’t transfer across. And there are many better Sauvignons for the price (such as virtually any Sancerre or Pouilly Fume).
Anything with a medal on the label. Show medals don’t mean anything. Most people don’t even know that a gold medal does not denote first place at a wine show. It denotes any wine that receives over a certain score in its class. And if that is “Bundanoon Back Yard Tasting Club Class 22 – Chardonnay under $5” then it’s no proud boast. I once examined a bottle resplendent in a gold medal, the medal sticker reading, in 6 point font “Organic” – it wasn’t even a wine show prize medal! If that’s not an attempt to mislead or deceive, than I don’t know what is.
Robert Parker. Sadly the world’s most influential wine writer. Even more sadly, his preference is for overblown, far-too-alcoholic, porty reds. (He regularly gives 100% scores to Barossa Shirazes that I can’t drink more than half a glass of before being under the table). Why must people listen to him so much?
Highbrow Lowbrow
I hope no LH types are reading this – all the good stuff might become popular.
Sherry. Not just ‘dry, medium or sweet’, good sherry is a revelation, and relatively inexpensive. Try a fresh Manzanilla, a nutty Palo Cortado, a rich Oloroso or a delicious sweet Pedro Ximénez from good bodegas like Hidalgo, and you’ll see what I mean.
Virtually all Spanish and Chilean wines. Great quality, supple flavours, some really interesting styles, and reasonable prices.
German Riesling. Still suffering from the image of the likes of Blue Nun and generic Liebfraumilsch, there are some great bargains to be had, even of rare and aged wines. I recently obtained a bottle of 1992 Reinhold Haart Piersporter Goldtropfschen Kabinett Riesling for only £10 and it’s one of the best wines I’ve ever had. (Actually, that wine probably belongs in the HH department).
Beaujolais. Often mocked, but great to drink in summer, and very cheap.
Wines from little-known appellations, particularly in the South of France. This is where it’s all happening. Loads of great stuff is coming out of Provence (tried any Bandol lately?) and the Midi, much interesting and affordable. And then there are the loads of wines that because of the tyranny of the appellation system can’t use words on their labels that would get them loads of customers. Everyone’s heard of Chateauneuf-du-Pape, but not many have tried Lirac, virtually next door, with some excellent producers. Henri Milan ‘Le Grand Blanc’ is a superb wine that is only ‘Vin de Table’ classification. And then you have Cahors, Bergerac – fantastic wines that give Bordeaux a real run for its money.
Mark Shield. The greatest wine (and beer) writer that ever lived. He never spat when judging wine, even if faced with a bracket of 100 shirazes. For that he earned the nickname ‘dry bucket’. What a man.
Lowbrow Lowbrow
Well, I could go on for ever here, about virtually any wine under $10. But I single some out for particular attention.
Fetzer Coldwater Creek. I don’t just mention this wine because it is the first wine to be served ‘on tap’ like beer from JD Wetherspoon pubs. You could, theoretically, put good wine on tap, but as a rule of thumb, the more a vessel deviates from a 750mL capacity, the worse its contents. On that scale, a 115 litre keg foreshadows a dismal beverage. This is truly awful stuff. I made a New Year’s Resolution about 4 years ago to never drink bad alcohol ever again. I’ve only breached it a few times, but one of the most memorable of them was when I was served this wine at a recent university function. I only had the red (I think it’s a Cabernet/Shiraz blend). God it’s dreadful. It tastes of metal, beer and tomato sauce. Truly disgusting.
Golden Oak Sherry. This drink is very close to my heart. I used to use it for cooking if I couldn’t get rice wine. A friend of mine and I calculated that it is the cheapest drink available in a Sydney bottle shop, coming out at about $0.36 per standard drink.
Friday, 6 July 2007
Chile – it’s not just empanadas and genocide any more
Think ‘Chile’ and what is the first thing that springs to mind? Legendary pianist Claudio Arrau? Legendary poet Pablo Neruda? Legendary génocidaire Augusto Pinochet? Well, no longer! Step forward a new great Chilean – legendary red grape Carmenère!
As is now well known, Carmenère is an obscure Bordeaux grape that was exported to Chile and thought for a long, long time to be Merlot. Lo, the ampelographers came forth and, in a style not unlike a Scooby-Doo cartoon in which that nice little-old lady’s mask is ripped off to reveal a bandit underneath, showed that the vine’s DNA matched Carmenère, not Merlot.
Well, now it is a regional speciality. ‘Regional speciality’ is one of these terms that to sceptics (myself included) often carries an implication of ‘So you’re a country that can’t grow decent cabernet sauvignon? Here – try this grape that nobody else wants and you might be able to market yourself on novelty value.’ (Don’t believe me? Well, go and try a South African Cinsaut or an Algerian Carignan and tell me I’m wrong). But Carmenère is not at a regional speciality in that sense. It’s more a regional speciality in the sense of ‘you wish you could grow your own grape this well, France’ accompanied by a two-finger salute – Like Hunter Valley Semillon, or certain Marlborough Sauvignons.
Anyway, I tried an absolutely superb Carmenere the other night at a restaurant in Surry Hills called Bodega (which I recommend in its own right. Its wine list contains only wines from Spain and South America. Hurrah! Sydney has waited too long for a restaurant that doesn’t treat foreign wines as novelties. I’m all for low food-miles and ‘showcasing’ domestic wines, but really, how many McLaren Vale shirazes can I drink in 6 weeks?) The wine is Perez Cruz Reserva Limited Release Carmenère (Maipo Valley). Ripe, freshly cut red capsicum on the nose, with leather, leaves, ink, woodsmoke and coal. The palate is an exercise in elegance (especially for a wine of 14.5% alcohol, which I simply don’t believe, as the alcohol is not obvious): soft plummy fruit, blackcurrant, almost imperceptible acid and fine tannins. An absolute triumph.
While I’m at it I will mention the Cardenal Cisneros Pedro Ximenez Sherry that I ordered for afters, if only to show my old flatmate and his new flatmate (with whom I was dining) that Sherry can be fantastic. The old flatmate’s new flatmate (let’s call him Darren, since that is his name) is a chef and came out with this – cinnamon, orange zest, raisin, treacle, coffee; and I agree. The palate is rich and sweet with a distinctive coffee-bean finish.
As is now well known, Carmenère is an obscure Bordeaux grape that was exported to Chile and thought for a long, long time to be Merlot. Lo, the ampelographers came forth and, in a style not unlike a Scooby-Doo cartoon in which that nice little-old lady’s mask is ripped off to reveal a bandit underneath, showed that the vine’s DNA matched Carmenère, not Merlot.
Well, now it is a regional speciality. ‘Regional speciality’ is one of these terms that to sceptics (myself included) often carries an implication of ‘So you’re a country that can’t grow decent cabernet sauvignon? Here – try this grape that nobody else wants and you might be able to market yourself on novelty value.’ (Don’t believe me? Well, go and try a South African Cinsaut or an Algerian Carignan and tell me I’m wrong). But Carmenère is not at a regional speciality in that sense. It’s more a regional speciality in the sense of ‘you wish you could grow your own grape this well, France’ accompanied by a two-finger salute – Like Hunter Valley Semillon, or certain Marlborough Sauvignons.
Anyway, I tried an absolutely superb Carmenere the other night at a restaurant in Surry Hills called Bodega (which I recommend in its own right. Its wine list contains only wines from Spain and South America. Hurrah! Sydney has waited too long for a restaurant that doesn’t treat foreign wines as novelties. I’m all for low food-miles and ‘showcasing’ domestic wines, but really, how many McLaren Vale shirazes can I drink in 6 weeks?) The wine is Perez Cruz Reserva Limited Release Carmenère (Maipo Valley). Ripe, freshly cut red capsicum on the nose, with leather, leaves, ink, woodsmoke and coal. The palate is an exercise in elegance (especially for a wine of 14.5% alcohol, which I simply don’t believe, as the alcohol is not obvious): soft plummy fruit, blackcurrant, almost imperceptible acid and fine tannins. An absolute triumph.
While I’m at it I will mention the Cardenal Cisneros Pedro Ximenez Sherry that I ordered for afters, if only to show my old flatmate and his new flatmate (with whom I was dining) that Sherry can be fantastic. The old flatmate’s new flatmate (let’s call him Darren, since that is his name) is a chef and came out with this – cinnamon, orange zest, raisin, treacle, coffee; and I agree. The palate is rich and sweet with a distinctive coffee-bean finish.
Thursday, 5 July 2007
Planet of the Grapes post no 2
My remaining notes from the (not so) recent Planet of the Grapes tasting, in order from good to bad:
2004 Kientzler Reserve Riesling (Alsace) (£14.50)
Relatively closed nose of minerals and lime. Palate very minerally, wet coal, nice, tight acidity.
2005 Max Ferd Richter Mosel Riesling (£11.50)
Very restrained, closed nose. Palate bursts forth with lime/lemonade flavours but really with insufficient acidity. Nic thought it was ‘like flat lemonade’ and I’m inclined to agee.
2005 Domaine Boisset Bourgogne Blanc (£11)
Ripe Chardonnay nose. Peaches and cream. Creamy palate, very well made in a ‘New World’ style but ultimately not a wine of character.
2006 Isabel Estate Marlborough Riesling (£11.50)
I’m not enamoured with New Zealand Riesling. Isabel Estate is one of the best producers in Marlborough and not even they can get it together, at well above the price at which you can get some very worthwhile German wines. Lively lime/orange sherbet nose leading to a lime lolly palate, a bit of a train wreck actually, burnt orange on the finish. Starts German, ends Australian.
2003 Botalcura ‘La Porfia’ Camenere Reserva (Chile) (£10)
Roast capsicum on nose, but alcoholic. Soft fruit, easy drinking, with an ink/charcoal dimension.
2004 Luigi Bosca Reserve Malbec (Argentina) (£10)
Very dark. Purple fruit, southern Rhonish. Palate is dense, liquoricy, alcoholic.
2005 Chermette Fleurie ‘Poncie’ (£13)
Confected yet concentrated nose showing dark jammy fruit. Palate shows fresh bubble-gummy character. A rather serious attempt, but then again so was Dohnanyi’s ‘Variations on a Nursery Theme’.
2005 Marques de Murrieta Capellania Rioja Blanco (£11.50)
Spicy nose, not as aggressive as it could be. Oxidised sherry smell. Chippy palate, salty, sherryish.
2006 Falesco Valpolicella (£8)
This is where Valpolicella gets its terrible reputation. No wonder they invented Amarone. Cheap cherry liqueur bubblegum nose, straight forward lolly-ish palate with a bit of vanilla. Uninteresting.
2003 Keerweder Pinotage (£9.50)
Stinky nose of tar and rusty nails. Aggressive palate, some coffee hints. Horrible.
2004 Kientzler Reserve Riesling (Alsace) (£14.50)
Relatively closed nose of minerals and lime. Palate very minerally, wet coal, nice, tight acidity.
2005 Max Ferd Richter Mosel Riesling (£11.50)
Very restrained, closed nose. Palate bursts forth with lime/lemonade flavours but really with insufficient acidity. Nic thought it was ‘like flat lemonade’ and I’m inclined to agee.
2005 Domaine Boisset Bourgogne Blanc (£11)
Ripe Chardonnay nose. Peaches and cream. Creamy palate, very well made in a ‘New World’ style but ultimately not a wine of character.
2006 Isabel Estate Marlborough Riesling (£11.50)
I’m not enamoured with New Zealand Riesling. Isabel Estate is one of the best producers in Marlborough and not even they can get it together, at well above the price at which you can get some very worthwhile German wines. Lively lime/orange sherbet nose leading to a lime lolly palate, a bit of a train wreck actually, burnt orange on the finish. Starts German, ends Australian.
2003 Botalcura ‘La Porfia’ Camenere Reserva (Chile) (£10)
Roast capsicum on nose, but alcoholic. Soft fruit, easy drinking, with an ink/charcoal dimension.
2004 Luigi Bosca Reserve Malbec (Argentina) (£10)
Very dark. Purple fruit, southern Rhonish. Palate is dense, liquoricy, alcoholic.
2005 Chermette Fleurie ‘Poncie’ (£13)
Confected yet concentrated nose showing dark jammy fruit. Palate shows fresh bubble-gummy character. A rather serious attempt, but then again so was Dohnanyi’s ‘Variations on a Nursery Theme’.
2005 Marques de Murrieta Capellania Rioja Blanco (£11.50)
Spicy nose, not as aggressive as it could be. Oxidised sherry smell. Chippy palate, salty, sherryish.
2006 Falesco Valpolicella (£8)
This is where Valpolicella gets its terrible reputation. No wonder they invented Amarone. Cheap cherry liqueur bubblegum nose, straight forward lolly-ish palate with a bit of vanilla. Uninteresting.
2003 Keerweder Pinotage (£9.50)
Stinky nose of tar and rusty nails. Aggressive palate, some coffee hints. Horrible.
Friday, 15 June 2007
Planet of the Grapes post no 1
OK, after a long time typing up my notes from the scores of wines tasted at the Planet of the Grapes tasting last week I am finally ready to release my opinions to the public. Originally my plan was to present my complete and unabridged notes. However I am not a professional taster (if only) and so, after about 40 wines my concentration began to wane (along with my ability to write) and I don’t think that my readers would be greatly assisted by the resultant notes, which consisted of incisive remarks such as “minrmmmly/chooolfm…dog” and “orly +? shiraz?” together with smears of bodily fluids.
So instead of being prolific but boring (like the Etudes of Czerny), I propose to present two smaller batches of hopefully worthwhile notes (like the Etudes of Chopin). The first, contained herein, is called “interesting and different” and comprises notes of those wines that, rather obviously, I either found particularly interesting or were made from different or unusual grape varieties. A further post will follow with my notes of other wines that I simply found to be of high quality or value or otherwise worthy of comment.
And here they are:
2006 Domaine Felines Jourdan Picpoul de Pinet (£9)
I had never tasted a varietal Picpoul before, the grape being known to me only as one of the permitted whites in Chateauneuf du Pape. The guy behind the counter described it as being ‘real peasant’s wine’ (‘peasant’ being a compliment these days in certain circles), so I will start drinking it regularly once I buy a beret and take up backgammon. Austere nose of slate, armpit and grape fruit. Palate shows hay, grape fruit, moderate acid and a lingering sappiness/greenness. Worthwhile.
2006 Nautilus Pinot Gris (Marlborough, NZ) (£14.50)
There is a real dispute as to whether Pinot Gris smells of ‘pork fat’. James Simpson MW thinks it does, and he’s an MW so his opinion is probably valid. I have found it less helpful as a descriptor, but this wine really does have a pork fat/pork scratchings nose, together with the poirewilliam/pear drops more commonly associated with Pinot Gris. Unfortunately I had already lost credibility as a taster with the guy behind the counter because I had described a 2005 Pazo Senorans Albarino (Spain) (£12) as smelling like pork fat and nacho cheese flavour Doritos. So he did not accept my pork fat comment. (You really have to earn respect at ‘public’ tastings. At ‘trade’ tastings they assume you know what you’re talking about – at public tastings it’s quite the opposite, and usually for good reason. Still, it annoys me). He insisted instead that this Pinot Gris had a ginger and lemon tea dimension to the nose, which I’ll allow. In any case the wine has a zesty entry, with green pears, a bit of hay, and a soft lingering finish with even a hint of parsley. Perfect for Chinese food/noodle dishes. (Incidentally the Albarino DID smell of Doritos, at least initially, with hay, chorizo, and olives on the nose. The palate is all lemons and melons with a rather short finish).
2005 Jean Daneel Signature Chenin Blanc (South Africa) (£20)
I’ve already noted this wine elsewhere, but it was showing particularly well today – in fact I would say it was the best white wine of the tasting. Golden yellow – dried apples, pears, caramel and vanilla on the nose. Palate shows honey, caramel, sandalwood. Rich, lots of finesse, no corners. A small percentage of botrytis affected grapes is included in the blend, to great effect. This wine is definitely going in the ‘wines I pull out for wine lovers’ box. (One MUST have interesting things of high quality in reserve for one’s wine loving friends. Interest alone is insufficient – they also have to be good wines. If you start bringing Bulgarian Traminer to tastings you will get a reputation for stinginess that is hard to shed…)
2005 J Lohr ‘Wildflower’ Valdigue (USA) (£10)
Valdigue is pretty common in the Midi, apparently, but the only reason they grow it in the US is that they thought they were growing Gamay for decades before ampelographers told them otherwise. A bit like learning that the ‘original’ Rembrandt on your wall is actually a fake. Still, it shouldn’t matter if the quality of the wine produced is good. The wine has rhubarb, red fruit and boiled lolly characters on the nose, and slightly vegetal hint. There is some Cottee’s strawberry jam on the entry with some sweetness. (For my UK readers, Cottee’s is a very mainstream Australian brand of cordial and jam, one step up from Home Brand products. Only one step up though – still lots of sugar). An interesting one off, but too sugary and confected for my liking.
2004 Cline ‘Small Berry’ Mourvedre (USA) (£21.50)
It is not usual to find an American attempt at a wine that is more subtle than its French equivalent. Usually US wines are a bit like the Canyonero – 12 yards long, two lanes wide, 65 tons of American pride. Loads of coffee, spearmint, eucalypt and anise on the nose. Palate shows loads of black fruit, intense, liquoricy. Supple but firm tannin finish. A big wine, let there be no doubt, but not as black and gothic as some Bandols I’ve had.
2004 Ridge Lytton Springs Zinfandel (USA) (£25)
A really serious attempt at Zinfandel here. Liquorice, black jelly babies on the nose, with something fruity like fibrous peach or peach stones. Thick, fruity palate, very supple, almost no discernible acid or tannin on the finish. Zin isn’t really my cup of tea, but this is as serious as they come.
So instead of being prolific but boring (like the Etudes of Czerny), I propose to present two smaller batches of hopefully worthwhile notes (like the Etudes of Chopin). The first, contained herein, is called “interesting and different” and comprises notes of those wines that, rather obviously, I either found particularly interesting or were made from different or unusual grape varieties. A further post will follow with my notes of other wines that I simply found to be of high quality or value or otherwise worthy of comment.
And here they are:
2006 Domaine Felines Jourdan Picpoul de Pinet (£9)
I had never tasted a varietal Picpoul before, the grape being known to me only as one of the permitted whites in Chateauneuf du Pape. The guy behind the counter described it as being ‘real peasant’s wine’ (‘peasant’ being a compliment these days in certain circles), so I will start drinking it regularly once I buy a beret and take up backgammon. Austere nose of slate, armpit and grape fruit. Palate shows hay, grape fruit, moderate acid and a lingering sappiness/greenness. Worthwhile.
2006 Nautilus Pinot Gris (Marlborough, NZ) (£14.50)
There is a real dispute as to whether Pinot Gris smells of ‘pork fat’. James Simpson MW thinks it does, and he’s an MW so his opinion is probably valid. I have found it less helpful as a descriptor, but this wine really does have a pork fat/pork scratchings nose, together with the poirewilliam/pear drops more commonly associated with Pinot Gris. Unfortunately I had already lost credibility as a taster with the guy behind the counter because I had described a 2005 Pazo Senorans Albarino (Spain) (£12) as smelling like pork fat and nacho cheese flavour Doritos. So he did not accept my pork fat comment. (You really have to earn respect at ‘public’ tastings. At ‘trade’ tastings they assume you know what you’re talking about – at public tastings it’s quite the opposite, and usually for good reason. Still, it annoys me). He insisted instead that this Pinot Gris had a ginger and lemon tea dimension to the nose, which I’ll allow. In any case the wine has a zesty entry, with green pears, a bit of hay, and a soft lingering finish with even a hint of parsley. Perfect for Chinese food/noodle dishes. (Incidentally the Albarino DID smell of Doritos, at least initially, with hay, chorizo, and olives on the nose. The palate is all lemons and melons with a rather short finish).
2005 Jean Daneel Signature Chenin Blanc (South Africa) (£20)
I’ve already noted this wine elsewhere, but it was showing particularly well today – in fact I would say it was the best white wine of the tasting. Golden yellow – dried apples, pears, caramel and vanilla on the nose. Palate shows honey, caramel, sandalwood. Rich, lots of finesse, no corners. A small percentage of botrytis affected grapes is included in the blend, to great effect. This wine is definitely going in the ‘wines I pull out for wine lovers’ box. (One MUST have interesting things of high quality in reserve for one’s wine loving friends. Interest alone is insufficient – they also have to be good wines. If you start bringing Bulgarian Traminer to tastings you will get a reputation for stinginess that is hard to shed…)
2005 J Lohr ‘Wildflower’ Valdigue (USA) (£10)
Valdigue is pretty common in the Midi, apparently, but the only reason they grow it in the US is that they thought they were growing Gamay for decades before ampelographers told them otherwise. A bit like learning that the ‘original’ Rembrandt on your wall is actually a fake. Still, it shouldn’t matter if the quality of the wine produced is good. The wine has rhubarb, red fruit and boiled lolly characters on the nose, and slightly vegetal hint. There is some Cottee’s strawberry jam on the entry with some sweetness. (For my UK readers, Cottee’s is a very mainstream Australian brand of cordial and jam, one step up from Home Brand products. Only one step up though – still lots of sugar). An interesting one off, but too sugary and confected for my liking.
2004 Cline ‘Small Berry’ Mourvedre (USA) (£21.50)
It is not usual to find an American attempt at a wine that is more subtle than its French equivalent. Usually US wines are a bit like the Canyonero – 12 yards long, two lanes wide, 65 tons of American pride. Loads of coffee, spearmint, eucalypt and anise on the nose. Palate shows loads of black fruit, intense, liquoricy. Supple but firm tannin finish. A big wine, let there be no doubt, but not as black and gothic as some Bandols I’ve had.
2004 Ridge Lytton Springs Zinfandel (USA) (£25)
A really serious attempt at Zinfandel here. Liquorice, black jelly babies on the nose, with something fruity like fibrous peach or peach stones. Thick, fruity palate, very supple, almost no discernible acid or tannin on the finish. Zin isn’t really my cup of tea, but this is as serious as they come.
Monday, 4 June 2007
Wines from the Magdalen College cellar
Not everybody is lucky enough to have a boyfriend in the SCR at Magdalen College Oxford, and therefore vicarious access to that institution’s vast cellar, the contents of which are available to the lucky few at insanely low prices.
But I am, so I might as well write a few notes about what I have been drinking from there over the last term.
But first, a rant about the ridiculous glassware that one is expected to drink from when dining (on the High Table, no less!) We are talking here about a college with an endowment of £116 million. A place with its own deer park and constitutionally mandated chapel choir. A place where water at dinner is served in hand engraved, double handled, 19th century silver tankards; and which has a designated common room the sole purpose of which is to eat fruit after dinner in Summer only. (There’s a different room for Winter). A place where coffee is drunk in one room on Thursday but a different one on Sunday.
This place is so oozing in wealth that I at least expected the wine to be served in Riedel ‘Sommeliers’ series lead crystal glasses, and even half expected each person at dinner to have his or her own personal butler to recline each chair back and pour the wine into our mouths to save us the hassle of tilting our heads.
But no. Instead of good stemware, or even the modest but functional Luigi Bormioli large ISO glasses (which come in at about £2), which are totally acceptable budget glasses, one has to drink from a shitty thick glass goblet that not even Argos sells, and that would be more at home in a JD Weatherspoon pub after they’ve run out of glasses on Curry Club Thursday. And to make things worse they serve the white wine in Champagne flutes! This might seem like pedantry, but when you’re serving something as worthy of appreciation as aged Grand Cru Alsace Riesling, or Premier Cru red Burgundy, it is disgraceful to put it into a vessel that (for various reasons) decreases one’s ability to enjoy the beverage and that would be more accustomed to receiving box wine or West Coast Cooler.
2005 Isabel Estate Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough, NZ)
Just when I was becoming disenamoured with Marlborough Sauvignon, on account of so many of them being so aggressively herbaceous, this one restores my faith. It is at the very tropical end of the spectrum – zesty nose of passion fruit and lime sherbert (Almost Mosel-like!), lean, clean palate with a slightly herbal dimension and crisp acidity. A very energetic, fresh, lively wine.
1996 Zind Humbrecht Wintzenheim Riesling (Alsace)
I don’t often think of Riesling as being ‘big’. But this wine is very big. Deep gold. (I was slightly late to dinner on this day on account of some idiot crashing their car on the M40 meaning that the Oxford Espress had to use an A road, making the journey last about 3 hours. Anyway, in my absence, my dining companions were slightly worried that there might be something ‘wrong’ with the wine, because it was ‘so yellow’, as Stefanie put it. No, no. The wine is very right indeed). Intense mouth- and eye-watering lemon juice on the nose, slightly sweet, sherberty entry, major minerality/steeliness on the mid palate, finishing tight, austere and chalky. Still incredibly youthful.
2003 Domaine Vacheron Sancerre
Red Sancerre. A pretty ordinary proposition I’m afraid (I didn’t order it). A certain blackcurrant leafiness to it, but all in all just a bit too thin, green and under-ripe for my taste.
1993 Domaine Rion Chambolle Musigny ‘Les Cras’
A very agreeable red Burgundy. Perfumed nose of lavender, redcurrants, dried cherries and leather. Palate follows through – flavours seamlessly integrated, subtle, pure. Good balance between fruit and secondary characters. I don’t like my Burgundy that old, to be honest (sacre-bleu!) and I think this wine is probably about as old as I would want it. Mid-palate fades away a little bit but it’s beautifully supple and elegant.
1998 Chateau Potensac (Medoc, Cru Bourgeois Exceptionnel)
Utterly exemplary claret. Integrated nose of blackcurrants, cedar wood and cigar box, following through onto a very smooth, supple palate, warm mouthfeel, ripe tannins.
2002 Samos Grand Cru Muscat
In the dessert room they send the bloody wine around in carafes so one has no idea what it is (there being no printed menu). Good blind tasting practice though. I thought this was a Muscat de Beaumes de Venise, being such a competent expression of the flowery Muscat Blanc a Petit Grains. But I sneaked a look at the label before I left and was quite surprised that this was a Greek wine of the same grape variety. Fresh, fragrant, with that agreeable oily/bitter finish that Muscat has. I thought it was great. I even resisted the temptation to correct everyone who had been calling it ‘Sauternes’ (which is just SO wrong, on so many levels). People think anything sweet and white is ‘Sauternes’ (little learning being dangerous and all that). Perhaps a rant for another day.
But I am, so I might as well write a few notes about what I have been drinking from there over the last term.
But first, a rant about the ridiculous glassware that one is expected to drink from when dining (on the High Table, no less!) We are talking here about a college with an endowment of £116 million. A place with its own deer park and constitutionally mandated chapel choir. A place where water at dinner is served in hand engraved, double handled, 19th century silver tankards; and which has a designated common room the sole purpose of which is to eat fruit after dinner in Summer only. (There’s a different room for Winter). A place where coffee is drunk in one room on Thursday but a different one on Sunday.
This place is so oozing in wealth that I at least expected the wine to be served in Riedel ‘Sommeliers’ series lead crystal glasses, and even half expected each person at dinner to have his or her own personal butler to recline each chair back and pour the wine into our mouths to save us the hassle of tilting our heads.
But no. Instead of good stemware, or even the modest but functional Luigi Bormioli large ISO glasses (which come in at about £2), which are totally acceptable budget glasses, one has to drink from a shitty thick glass goblet that not even Argos sells, and that would be more at home in a JD Weatherspoon pub after they’ve run out of glasses on Curry Club Thursday. And to make things worse they serve the white wine in Champagne flutes! This might seem like pedantry, but when you’re serving something as worthy of appreciation as aged Grand Cru Alsace Riesling, or Premier Cru red Burgundy, it is disgraceful to put it into a vessel that (for various reasons) decreases one’s ability to enjoy the beverage and that would be more accustomed to receiving box wine or West Coast Cooler.
2005 Isabel Estate Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough, NZ)
Just when I was becoming disenamoured with Marlborough Sauvignon, on account of so many of them being so aggressively herbaceous, this one restores my faith. It is at the very tropical end of the spectrum – zesty nose of passion fruit and lime sherbert (Almost Mosel-like!), lean, clean palate with a slightly herbal dimension and crisp acidity. A very energetic, fresh, lively wine.
1996 Zind Humbrecht Wintzenheim Riesling (Alsace)
I don’t often think of Riesling as being ‘big’. But this wine is very big. Deep gold. (I was slightly late to dinner on this day on account of some idiot crashing their car on the M40 meaning that the Oxford Espress had to use an A road, making the journey last about 3 hours. Anyway, in my absence, my dining companions were slightly worried that there might be something ‘wrong’ with the wine, because it was ‘so yellow’, as Stefanie put it. No, no. The wine is very right indeed). Intense mouth- and eye-watering lemon juice on the nose, slightly sweet, sherberty entry, major minerality/steeliness on the mid palate, finishing tight, austere and chalky. Still incredibly youthful.
2003 Domaine Vacheron Sancerre
Red Sancerre. A pretty ordinary proposition I’m afraid (I didn’t order it). A certain blackcurrant leafiness to it, but all in all just a bit too thin, green and under-ripe for my taste.
1993 Domaine Rion Chambolle Musigny ‘Les Cras’
A very agreeable red Burgundy. Perfumed nose of lavender, redcurrants, dried cherries and leather. Palate follows through – flavours seamlessly integrated, subtle, pure. Good balance between fruit and secondary characters. I don’t like my Burgundy that old, to be honest (sacre-bleu!) and I think this wine is probably about as old as I would want it. Mid-palate fades away a little bit but it’s beautifully supple and elegant.
1998 Chateau Potensac (Medoc, Cru Bourgeois Exceptionnel)
Utterly exemplary claret. Integrated nose of blackcurrants, cedar wood and cigar box, following through onto a very smooth, supple palate, warm mouthfeel, ripe tannins.
2002 Samos Grand Cru Muscat
In the dessert room they send the bloody wine around in carafes so one has no idea what it is (there being no printed menu). Good blind tasting practice though. I thought this was a Muscat de Beaumes de Venise, being such a competent expression of the flowery Muscat Blanc a Petit Grains. But I sneaked a look at the label before I left and was quite surprised that this was a Greek wine of the same grape variety. Fresh, fragrant, with that agreeable oily/bitter finish that Muscat has. I thought it was great. I even resisted the temptation to correct everyone who had been calling it ‘Sauternes’ (which is just SO wrong, on so many levels). People think anything sweet and white is ‘Sauternes’ (little learning being dangerous and all that). Perhaps a rant for another day.
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