Confessions of a Wino

Hosting a dinner party? Got a few sample bottles that you’ve been meaning to taste for ages? Want to follow up an amateurish and inconclusive post on Grand Cru Chablis? A perfect storm for a blind tasting. The brief is simple: take a Chablis Villages, a Premier Cru, and a Grand Cru and see if there is a meaningful, that is to say pecuniarily justified, difference. All wines were from the 2010 vintage.

The bottles, elegantly disguised in blue carrier bags whose former contents were the meat for tonight’s main course, looked like three prisoners in front of a firing squad. As the wino of the party, to be blunt, I could feel the rifles aiming in my direction. I was papping myself. Here are my notes in the order we tasted.

Wine 1: fruity but full bodied,very smooth and tastes well oaked. Not so much flinty steely pebbles as rich plummy apricot and honey. I’m guessing this is the GC
Wine 2: bit steelier but lovely acidity, not oaky. Grassy more than fruity and a little bit of afterburn in the throat. This is probably the Villages.
Wine 3: appley, some flint, quite rounded – I think this is the PC.

Wine 1 in the centre of the podium turned out to be Christian Moreau Chablis Grand Cru Les Clos, a deserved winner but at a price. Imported by Thorman Hunt & Co the RRP is £33.80.

Wine 2, on the right, is Vincent Dampt Chablis and a bronze medal winner which might explain the difficulty in differentiating it from the Premier Cru. Corney & Barrow do this at £13.95.

Wine 3 is the Premier Cru, this one a Christophe & Fils, Fourchaume that is imported by A & B Vintners and the RRP is £14.58.

The main conclusion to be drawn is that a blind tasting livens up a dinner party and focuses people’s attention on the wine. It’s a lot of fun. The consensus was that Grand Cru Chablis clearly stood out and is worth the extra for special occasions. Telling the difference between the Villages and the PC was very difficult and the scores were split, which is reflected in the close price range, to be fair.

So, that may be another amateurish analysis, but at least this time, it’s conclusive.

Drinkable white wine at less than a tenner a bottle is getting harder to find. What if you are sick of Echo Falls, Gallo, and Jacob’s Creek? What is the thinking man’s oenological WAG?

From the country that is rapidly becoming the home of football, white Riojas made from Viura, Malvasia and Verdejo grapes are a good starting point, especially from a price perspective. I visited Marqués de Riscal in 2008 and was impressed by the quality of the prevailing base white wine, especially scoffed with highest quality Pata Negra cured pork. Technically this white is not from Rioja but the nearby Rueda region bit it shares all the typical features of its cousin.

Pleasantly surprised to find it at Majestic for only £6.49 I reached into the fridge for some Sainsbury’s “Taste The Difference” chorizo Ibérico Bellota and unscrewed the cap.

This Verdejo tastes a tad Thai: Dill, lemongrass, ginger and a touch of chilli mark out the corners of the pitch. The goalposts are stacked, not from jumpers, but pink grapefruit husks.

Fruity, fresh and refreshing, it’s no wonder white Riojas are so often seen as house wines in London restaurants and frequently present the best value on the list. If you are the Thai bride of a Spanish footballer playing in England, take note.

Is Godello the new Albariño? Think back 5 years.

Grape from North-Western Spain? Check. Light fruity white wine? Check. Almost unknown in the UK? Check. A tad over-priced? Check. This one cost me £15.99 from Latitude in Leeds. Oof!

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One of the wine guys in Majestic (most of them are pretty knowledgeable in a wonderfully geeky kind of way), recommended this, when I enquired about big Chardonnays. Surely you are just recommending your latest offer? Admittedly buying two bottles to save £12 is a good deal, but it sounds like you are trying to get rid of it. “No I tried some at home last weekend – really fruity, big and scrumptious”.

He meant in a new world style, rather than a classic Burgundy. I’m not sure. The heaviest thing about this wine, apart from the slightly excessive 14% ABV, is the bottle. I know I paid its air freight from Argentina, but delicate petals adorn the inside. It tastes pretty classy. Quite peachy with vanilla and elderflower. The only new world giveaway is a nod towards one of those banana shaped foam sweets from the Pick n Mix.

Regular readers know that I am a big fan of Catena Zapata wines. This one is not cheap at £23, but with a double bottle discount reducing the price to £17, it is well worth a try. Drank mine with a simple pork chop cooked on the skillet at about 12 degrees (the wine not the chop).

My take on Carménère, especially when made in Chile, where it is more commonly called Carmenère or even the totally vulgar Carmenere, is that it smells of real wood fires. The wonderful scent that welcomes you back to a Cotswolds village on a crisp winter evening after a long walk in the hills, when you are making your last, trudging and tired, but relentlessly determined steps towards a cosy, heart and toe warming pub.

This Chilean model, which lacks self-confidence to the extent that it opens its kimono on the front label to guide your taste buds towards an “exotic and spicy, full bodied style with damson and blackberry fruit”, has so much smoke it triggers a gag reflex. When first poured, a dip of the nose is like putting your head over the top of the Cotswold village smoking chimney. Face crumples. Nose drips. Eyes bleed.

Fortunately the wine does mellow a bit when tasted, but there remains a slightly astringent and  cacophonous afterburn. Not great for a wine being punted by Majestic for £7.99.

Drink it very cool or better still, opt for the vastly superior Casillero del Diablo Carmenère even more widely available and in the same price bracket.

Are you a bit snooty about supermarket wines? I am, but I shouldn’t be. After a warm experience with a couple of Asda whites recently, I was intrigued enough to attend a Tesco wine tasting where this Chablis stood out from the “Finest” range.

Steely, minerally Chardonnays from this northern Burgundy region can occasionally taste like putting your tongue across the poles of a 9v battery. Conversely, on opening, this one is full of soft ripe peachy fruit, a bit too soft. But, as the wine warms (best left out of the fridge for about an hour before drinking) the fruit starts sucking on a black Welsh beach pebble. Not at all over-acidic, very classy and smooth and, as a result, better with roast pork than seafood.

If you shop at Tesco, you might be interested in the code XXH4H4 which, when entered into the Tesco website before Dec 31, 2012, will get you a “no strings attached” £5 discount from a case of wine of your choice.

Have a rethink about supermarket wines, some are better than two slaps across the thigh with a wet kipper from the fish stand. Depending on your sexual persuasion, arguably much, much, better.

If you judge a book by its cover or a wine by its label, hide your head behind the sofa now. I’ve never read such total utter bollocks on a wine bottle. Piers Morgan and Worzel Gummidge’s love child could have written something more coherent and less smug. Fortunately, I have an open mind. Unscrew the cap, James…

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If you are looking for a high quality but eclectic wine shop somewhere in the world, then Hanging Ditch, near Manchester Cathedral, is a good first stab. But what if you live the other side of the Pennines, and your passport has expired? Recommendations flooded in for Latitude Wines in the centre of Leeds, under the railway arches. It meets the eclecticity brief. Walking into a cave (as in wine cellar) with a claustrophobicly low ceiling with wine racks and baskets strewn at jaunty angles with random offers, it’s the sort of place that I find impossible to walk out of without troubling the wallet.

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If you like red wine so fruity that it tastes like a compote, made from 3 metric tonnes of berries reduced down to 3 fl oz, then you will love this Tannat.

Personally, for a wine that retails at north of fifteen quid, I would like to see a real cork, or a screwcap, instead of a trendy black ‘plastic cork’. Conversely, and equally surprising at this price point is a bit of metal, a lead seal (presumably also plastic) on the label. What a waste of money that could have been invested in a new vat, or some wine making expertise.

I’m tempted to call this a triumph of marketing over quality. In fact, the wine is quite nice. Just not £15.99 nice, even with 25% Angels’ discount. Come on, Naked, you can do better than this.

I had a long overdue mooch around Majestic recently. To be perfectly honest, a large proportion of the wines were predictable old fellas. But search hard enough and there are some real gems. I managed to walk out with 15 bottles having lightened my wallet to the tune of £222 (a double Nelson, for the cricketers out there).

One notable success story was this Fronton from the Deep South of France. Barely registering on the fruitometer, the overwhelming and delicious flavour is of a freshly baked rosemary focaccia served on an earthenware plate and drizzled with olive oil. Herby rather than fruity, and rich and spicy, it went superbly with a pepperoni pizza. £7.99 or £6.99 for two or more bottles.

I must also award a WART Medaille d’Or for a recommended drinking temperature clearly displayed on the back label. 17 Celsius is the advice. That’s at least five degrees cooler than your living room. Please chill a little. I’d actually open it at 15° and let it warm.

If you are a Majestic fan, look out for more wine notes on this blog over the next few weeks.