As any good chef will tell you, good cooking starts with good sourcing. Assuming that you are an adult, the single most important ingredient you need for this dish is Branston Baked Beans.
The other essential component is a bottle of Tuella, Douro, 2006 vintage if you can get it, which should be opened and placed in the fridge. Then put a pan on the hob.
I’ve had a massive, Rowan Gormley style, fallout with Virgin Wines. Having restructured (read less favourable terms) their “Wine Bank” offer, I had the temerity to request the closure of my Wine Bank account. After three emails and two phone calls still no joy. So, no more Virgin Wines. I am storming (or maybe mincing) off in a huff.
Luckily, I joined The Wine Society many moons ago and they ruthlessly and relentlessly ship me top quality wines at fair (not cheap) prices. Here is yet another reason to stay a member.
Beaujolais 2010 was supposed to be a mere shadow of the magnificent 2009 vintage. However, this Château Bonnet Chénas (£9.50) begs to differ. Much more serious than “typical” bubble gum Gamay, juicy and fruity but with a smidgen of spice. Think of it as a higher class of jelly (yes, streets ahead of Haribo).
Sorry for the lack of humour in this post. Say thanks to Tony Laithwaite and his band of Virgins for that.
If you are ever in Manchester and fancy a decent glass of wine, Hanging Ditch is my recommendation. The only negative is that, even in this alco-city, where poor restaurants barely survive next to pubs, bars, lounges and drinking dens, Hanging Ditch has the temerity to close at 8pm, even on big nights. On the plus side, they know their wines and you can enjoy a wee glass in their tiny premises largely undisturbed whilst one of the guys advises you how to spend your hard-earned wedge on Burgundies, Albariños and Godellos. At least, that is what I was persuaded to walk out with on a recent visit that included a whopping £40 for this Morey-St-Denis.
When I am in a really good mood, my Opus Dei style self-flagellation is a mooch through the wine aisle at Sainsbury’s. Brings me back down to depression with a bump. Yard after yard of unremitting boredom. Branded wines at prices that, once you have removed duty, VAT and cost of shipping, indicate an investment of around $0.20 in the actual wine. It’s a bit like reading a John Major biography. Grey, grey, and thrice grey. Where is the Edwina Currie moment? Could this Yali “Gran Reserva” Carmenere (sic) be the money shot? At £9.99 for a Sainsbury wine, it better explain itself.
The venerable Austrian wine glass maker, Georg Riedel, has made a mistake. I know this to be a fact because I have just done a taste test on a bottle of 2001 Château Filhot that I’ve been saving for a while. Riedel recommends a 416/33, otherwise known as a Vinum Sauvignon Blanc (left) for the noble rotten wines of Sauternes. I’ve just received a brace of Rheingaus (right), or 416/1 to the librarians amongst you, as a present. So I thought I would do a taste comparison and, what a shock!
Drinking a casual tipple at Manchester’s inestimable Hanging Ditch wine bar/shop, I was chatting to Mark and bemoaning the price of Albariño in the UK. It is hard to fault the wine, but equally difficult to really wet ones pants over it. Mark recommended that I try a Lusco. Nice looking bottle but, at £25,  it is priced, even at Hanging Ditch, to match a Michel Cheveau Pouilly Fuisse Trois Terroirs 2008, or a Vallet Frères ’07 Pernand Vergelesses, so it needs to be very good indeed.
When you’ve been serving steaks since 1887, you’ve probably learned a thing or two. The legend of Peter Luger in Brooklyn hangs over most steakhouses in the world like a godlike presence. Observe, salivate, copy, hope.
I’ve had mixed experiences with different vintages of this wine. For example the 1996 was not great, and the 1998 was OK but not worth the money.
The oldest of the batch I bought from the Wine Society was a 1995, advised to be drunk by 2011. Oops. It’s 2012. Better get the corkscrew! But, at £80 a bottle, will it be charming siren or a case of more chafing dissonance?
I found this wine totally awesome. Stewed strawberries with a touch of balsamic and that classy composty nature. Burgundy wine is so frustrating because so many bottles disappoint, but when it excels – WOOHOO! It’s like you won the lottery on the same day as Sharon Stone turned up on your doorstep in that little white dress.
Although this is a fine wine, it matches simple food. Bangers and mash (no gravy) is a highly recommended pairing.
It’s deep, rich, spicy, and makes the inside of your mouth feel like a souk. What’s not to like about Tempier Cabassaou?
Single varietal wines can be a bit like pedigree dogs. Beautiful, but temperamental. Domaine Tempier has whipped the Mourvèdre grape into shape and got it behaving like a lovable mongrel. Maybe that’s why it has a reputation for being a tad barking mad…
Personally, I love all the Tempiers I have tried. Hardly foaming at the mouth but, be warned, they are not cheap. This one came from the Wine Society for a whopping £39.
Many people think they improve as they get (much) older. I am afraid I couldn’t risk dying before I tried this bottle. I’m glad I managed to squeeze it through my liver before I bought the farm.
This wine is a winter warmer. It’s rich, spicy and South American with an aftertaste like a Molotov cocktail. Why would you not slug it down merrily? Here’s why not.
I love Carmenère, especially that begat of Chile, where it seems to have adopted an ethereal status. Casillero del Diablo is one well priced example. This one (£6.49 from your local Co-op) has the usual richesse and deep interesting autumn fruits, but with a certain bitterness. It also smells dirty in a meaty fart sort of way. But this is not a Pinot Noir where subtle barnyard flavours are a bonus. Normally, Carmenères have the winter aroma of real wood fires and I miss that here.
I strongly recommend Carmenère, and I am certain that Co-op has many excellent wines in stock, probably including the Casillero. I’m afraid that 120® 2010 is not one of them.
Stumble It!