Confessions of a Wino

I told the guy in Latitude, Leeds, that I love white Bordeaux, and had a party coming up, but I didn’t want to break the bank and spoil the neighbours. He recommended this Semillon Sauvignon Blanc from Margaret River, Australia.

It’s crisp, yet smooth, rich and creamy, like an apple tart with custard and a dribble of honey. Latitude sold me this for £11.25 and, for that dosh, it beats most Bordeaux I’ve tried at the price point. Highly recommended. Remember WART rules and serve at the temperature of an oaked Chardonnay – about 10-12ºC (at least half an hour out of the fridge).

And for any of my lovely neighbours reading this, I was only joking. I’ve just received a shipment of Echo Falls for you. I’ll be keeping the Pitchfork for myself.

The best recommendations for a wine do not come from journos, PR samples or special offers. For me, they come from genuine wine enthusiasts who trouble their pockets to retrieve a cherished bottle from their cellar to share with you. Either in person or in absentia.

This bottle was given to be at a board meeting by one of my colleagues who has travelled extensively around South America and hearing my mild enthusiasm for Chilean Carmenère, passed a Cuvée Alexandre into my dirty paws one rainy Tuesday morning in Newton le Willows.

This grape, widely planted in Chile but d’origine Bordeaux often reminds me of real wood fires on cold winter days. Rich and herby, yet smooth and oaky, this example is full on, but refined and very moreish, albeit bound to give me a headache in the morning.

I daren’t look up the price, because the quid pro quo is that I need to return the favour. But, knowing Chris, this is not a cheapy £5 bottle of wine. I think I’ll be reaching into my Eurocave for a decent Bordeaux or Argie blockbuster, maybe not quite stretching to a Catena Zapata or Cheval des Andes.

If you want to buy some, try your local independent.

Beef friendly, delicious, easy drinking, and easy on the wallet. Not something you see every day on the carte des vins of a top end London Steakhouse. But I found Chateau (sic) Ste (sic) Michelle (sic) at Goodman‘s Mayfair branch. Served by the glass at one point, it disappeared and then they told me that had trouble sourcing enough to keep it on the list.

I am not really surprised. It must have been flying out of the Eurocave faster than a Batmobile powered by used rape seed oil.

Here’s the secret. I’ve found a plentiful supply and at a mad price of only around 10 quid a bottle (which, if I remember rightly, is less than Goodman used to charge for a glass). If you want to stock up, simply visit Bacchus Liquors. Not much use to Londoners I admit, but if, like me, you are stationed in South Beach for a while, a must-visit-venue. Ch. Ste Michelle is about $16 from this excellent and well stacked store at 1445 Alton Road, Miami Beach, FL 33139.  Massive collection of worldwide wines right on the premise, and literally just round the corner from my temporary home.

I have an American colleague, of French origin, who given his own bodyweight in Sancerre would happily sit on his sunny balcony and drink it nonstop in a frenzied Loire-athon. He does admit that other wine regions in France exist but they are either over-priced or under-qualitied. There are no wines produced from outside “l’hexagon”.

I share an interest in French Sauvignon Blanc and the Loire is the pinnacle of how to convert the grape into astonishingly bright, juicy, sunny, flavours.

It seems ages since people seriously contemplated that new fangled New Zealand upstarts like Cloudy Bay might put the Loire Valley out of business. The subtleties of the wines of the French region are rarely found in Marlborough. I love many kiwi zingers, but grapefruity zinginess, if overdone, can test ones mouth ulcers to the limit . Built by Domaine Serge Laloue, Exhibition Sancerre is zingy in a gooseberry bush kind of  a way, but without the cat piss. Very refined and priced to go at £12.95.

Like many British winos, I’ve got a blind spot. And what is worse, based on 1990s cheap Pinotages, almost a distrust of South African red wines. This wine proves me right, and also proves me wrong. A bit like sucking a raspberry teabag off a hot brick, it’s fruity, tannic, earthy and juicy like a southern Rhone. However, drink on and by the third glass there is a hint of rubber in a condom sort of way. It’s is the sort of unusual flavour that many people like – I sometimes taste it in Monastrell/Mourvèdre for example.

In fact not a Pinotage, but a blend of Merlot, Cabernet and Syrah, this wine is not for me, sorry, but I can appreciate the quality and attention and love decanted into the bottle, so I’d encourage you to give it a go and form your own opinion. Stocked by the Wine Society and Majestic at around 12 British Pounds, it is not a risky experiment.

I used to buy a case or three of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc a year and always Jane Hunter featured in the centre. But zingy cat piss can only bring on so much excitement, and the last couple of years have seen almost zero feline urolagnia staining the Wino doorstep.

However, the grand old grape of Riesling, revered by so many winos, is also widely grown in Middle Earth. Mix an awesome winemaker with awesome materials and the mouth waters. The Ruby Murray came by moped from The Sharma in Heckmondwike. Jane Hunter is widely available. My bottle was delivered by the Wine Society for £11.95.

The wine is incredibly appley. Shut your eyes and you could be eating a crisp Royal Gala. A hint of flat champagne when first opened (too cold, straight from the fridge), it evolved as the apples warmed and added nutmeg, elderflower, and cream. It is an apple strudel in a glass. Definitely worth a try if you used to like Kiwi SB and you think Blue Nun was under-rated.

A refreshing white wine from Galicia is no surprise, but a non-vintage one is uncommon. More unusual, but much appreciated, is advice on drinking temperature on the back label. In this case, 10-12 degrees. If you chill your white wines in a typical household fridge, that, means taking it out about an hour before drinking.

Most whites of any substance should be drunk much warmer than frigo. Otherwise differentiating between a Blue Nun and a Bâtard-Montrachet is going to reveal neither the sins of the former, nor the virtues of the latter.

Cumio, made from some blend of Treixadura and Palomino grapes, a refreshing change from tired Albariños from the same north western corner of Spain, is certainly refreshing and light – only 11% alcohol. It is also much more complex and serious than a seaside holiday seafood slurping wine. Possibly a touch over-acidic, but fruity as hell.

If you live near Manchester you can find it at the ever reliable Hanging Ditch for £12.50.

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.

(more…)

In these days of recession where few of us can afford the high end Bordeaux, Burgundy and Rhone wines; where the axis of oenology has shifted to the BRIC countries, leaving Americans and Brits to pick up the scraps; where does one look for quality combined with value? Most wine commentators (including me) point to the South West of France.

Of course, this region has offered great wines for years. It’s just that, if you can afford a Latour, why roam further than Pauillac? I can’t afford a Latour, so I like (that is to say I am compelled) to adventure.

(more…)

Tipped off by Bob Tyrer, I mined The Wine Society for a “bargain bin-end”: Camus-Bruchon Savigny ‘Les Pimientiers’ from ancient vines, but a drink-up date of 2012.

The quid is a heavily discounted price of £14.95. But what is the pro quo?

If you are a red Burgundy aficionado, you will probably love this: Composty, full of fruit, chicken shit, and with ‘bright acidity’ (whatever that means). But I thought it tasted just a smidgen sharp and a little old. Nothing technically wrong. Just better stuff around to drink at this price.

I have two more bottles, so maybe I’ll change my mind next time. That’s the beauty of wine. Every bottle’s taste varies depending on the ageing, the environment you drink in, the temperature, the glass etc etc. I carried this bottle across the Irish Sea to drink with hummus, cured meats, veg and breads from Dublin’s premier supermarket, Superquinn. The food was disappointing to put it mildly. There’s a Tesco down the road from my mother-in-law’s. Next time I’ll try that for dips, with meat from Michael Dolan in Finglas Village, and veg from Ciaran’s rustic and adorably amateur greengrocer up near Dunne’s. If I bring the same wine, I’m convinced I’ll enjoy it a little more.

I guess Bob placed a bulk order because the bin has ended, but you can get the 2009 from The Wine Society at £22.