Confessions of a Wino

Have you heard that large consumer services organisations (banks, telcos, utilities etc) classify and rank their customers into odd categories, like fruits, to determine their profitability?  A prime juicy customer might be an orange or an apple or a mango.  A customer clinging to the organisation like a piece of wet toilet tissue is invariably a lemon and is regularly encouraged to leave for a competitor, although a customer in this state is unlikely to be intelligent enough to take the hint.

I tried two wines from Virgin and I want to see how it works in the other direction.  The prime juicy apple in this case was the excellent Stone House Barossa Valley 2005 and the lemon, a Monastrell Albacea 2006.

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I am sitting here idly watching a football match.  It is Euro 2008 and I am watching with aggressive disinterest because my team (England) did not qualify.  Players from the other teams I am, by ancestry or marriage, entitled to support - Scotland and Ireland, are also sat on a beach somewhere spending their “hard-earned” footballers’ wages on pina coladas.

Like Euro 2008, my world tour of Pinot Noirs has had plenty of representatives from across Europe but not one from the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.  So much for global warming.

This one came from the spiritual home of Pinot Noir, Burgundy.  Part of the ancient footballing nation of Gauls.  And in the religion that celebrates this fickle red grape, whether or not worshipping les bleus, the Cathédrale Notre Dame is the Cote D’Or.

Delivered via the Sunday Times Wine Club in a “Pure Pinot Noir” case for £69.99, this is a basic Bourgogne AOC from 2004, but still well priced at just over £7 (about a gallon of gasoline for US readers).

I found it tasted of gooseberry, redcurrant, blackberry and damp logs with a little earthiness thrown in as if to acknowledge the religious origins of my argument.  Slightly on the acidic side but very nice and I’d definitely drink it again.  I would recommend serving it fairly well chilled – give it at least an hour in a household fridge before opening.

My wino mate, Robert, opened a debate about whether bringing a supermarket branded wine showed good judgement, or embarrassed your dinner party hosts.

Most winos concluded that it shows good form to see through the label and judge the wine.  In fact, spotting a bargain winissimo in sheep’s clothing is a big coup for a wine snob (assuming he can convince his friends that the wine is really worth much more than the actual price).  I have a personal view here.  I simply don’t care where the wine comes from, or the name on the label, or the price, but I am a sucker for packaging.  On that measure I am not sure why I picked up this ugly bottle at Sainsbury for £6.99.

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I never look a gift horse in the mouth, Trojan or otherwise.  I never knowingly say “neigh” to a first class excuse not to spend my weekend cutting the lawn.

I’ve just been invited to see the Foo Fighters at Wembley on Saturday.  This will be the third time I have seen them in the last 12 months (first at Live Earth, second at the O2).  One of very few bands that can sell out two nights at Wembley, they must be doing something right.  The Foo Fighters were reborn from Nirvana after Kurt Cobain’s “self inflicted shotgun wound to the head”.  I became a believer quite recently which resulted in me enjoying the first hour of the O2 concert and then listening in bemusement as they excavated deep into their back catalogue.  The crowd went wild and I was left holding the spade.  I must do some revision before going this time.

It will also be an opportunity to attack another trophy restaurant (memo to self: bring change of grunge clothing) for Sunday lunch in our fair capital.  I might look up one of the places my mate Douglas has reviewed and see if I agree with his cultured palate.

For me, last year’s “culture” came from a lads’ trip to Puerto Banús.  On the way back I picked up this bottle from Malaga Airport for only €7.  At the time this was a bargain but, of course, with recent currency movements it is now the approximate pecuniary equivalent of a magnum of 1961 Château Pétrus (if bought in the UK or US).

I am sure that Rob could tell me if 2003 was a good year for Rioja.  I thought this Crianza excellent.  In the background, strawberry flavoured, it had a good level of tannin and the sort of sweet acidity I associate with blackberries.  I know this because I happened to be eating said fruit when I drank it.

So maybe it tastes like blackberries soaked in tea with a strawberry sauce and just a dab of vanilla ice cream?  Perhaps it smells like teen spirit?  Or maybe I’m an idiot.

So, the worst kept secret in football has finally been revealed.  Sven-Göran Eriksson has been sacked by Manchester City.  I am always one to say I told you so, but on this occasion I have evidence.  I did predict that it would all end in tears.

Now, the rumour mill has turned up Mark Hughes as the top candidate.  At this point I have to stand up for Sven.  He had a horrific end to the season, results-wise, but he still ended up 9th in his first season in charge of an otherwise relegated club.  The Premiership “superstar” in charge of Blackburn Rovers finished an astonishing 3 points and two places higher, after several years in charge of his club.  In what sense does that promise a better performance next year?  I have two resolutions if Mark Hughes is appointed

1.  I will only attend the first home game of the season next year and I vow to sing “Sven-Göran Eriksson” for as long and as loud as my voice will stand.

2.  I will not be deflected from my world tour of Pinot Noirs.  Meet Zarcillo.

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Do you remember my epic conquest of the Bridgewater Canal in Manchester?  My flag at the “summit”, otherwise known as the King’s Ransom in Sale, was a glass of 2006 Casillero del Diablo Carmenère (some say Carménère – in fact a Wikipedia “discussion” has broken out – ooooooh my!).

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When you hear a wine described as “balanced” what does it mean to you?

I unscrewed this bottle of Torrontés and drank most of it before reading the back of the label.  Before opening, I knew that it was made by Susana Balbo one of my favourite Argie producers.  I knew that the wine came from Majestic and retails at £6.99.  I knew that it had a pretty label and came in the usual gargantuan bottles that are trademarks of the land of diminutive Eva Perón.  I am convinced that the bottles used by Dominio del Plata are almost as big as Evita and probably have clocked up more air miles per kilo.

After reading the label I now feel much wiser, because I know that “Crios” means “offspring”.  I know that Torrontés is Argentina’s uniquely aromatic grape, and that it is similar to Viognier with the dry crisp taste of Sauvignon Blanc.  The final interesting fact I took on board was that no oak was used in ageing the wine.  Oh, and just to cram just one more sliver of semi-useful intelligence into my puddled brain, that the wine displays excellent “balance”.

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Regular readers know that I sampled the Auction service at Virgin Wines with mixed results.  I discovered recently that they have started auctioning Cloudy Bay 2007.  Fabulous idea!  Everyone knows the price of Cloudy Bay.  Although Harvey Nichols sells it every year for about £16-18, other retailers struggle to keep it below £20.  The Sunday Times Wine Club sells it at a rip-off £26.95!  Virgin Wines?  You can start bidding at £1 for 6 bottles!

So I raced to the site and discovered with disappointment that, with 18 hours still to go, the bidding was already at £131 for a half case (£21.83 per bottle).  It only took me 1 minute on Google to find it at £18.99 at lebonvin.co.uk.  I am not saying that £131 for 6 is bad value, though.  It just pays to keep an eye on availability elsewhere if you value your coins.  Well worth visiting Virgin and placing a bid of £50 or so, just in case! I am going to keep going back for a look.

Anyway, the cricket saison est arrivé, and tomorrow I managed to get a ticket (sold out) for England vs New Zealand at Old Trafford (Manchester).  I know what you are thinking, how on earth is he going to tie all this nonsense back into a post about a wine from Touraine?  Listen carefully, I am about to begin…..

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I spent a week in the Beaujolais region during the vendange of 2005.  Don’t be stupid, I wasn’t picking grapes, merely relaxing, doing a little walking, some good eating and plenty of wine drinking.  My favourite spot was Fleurie with two great little bistro restaurants and one, more famous, mushroomy one with a star from some rubber company (too expensive and too indoors for me so I didn’t bother).

Personally I loved Café de la Bascule, where properly chilled local wines were poured over lazy autumn sunsets, accompanied by fine, but rustic, French food and just a pinch of French arrogance to season.

At the time, the marvellous 2003 vintage was running out fast.  People were fighting like Biafrons at an impromptu pizza party to get the last bottles, and being a big fat bloke, I managed to grab a few from local suppliers.

It turns out that 2005 was a pretty nifty year too, and I recently realised I had not tried much.  So off to the Wine Society website to see what was left.

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Purely in the name of research, you understand, I’ve been sampling a range of Pinot Noirs from different corners of the globe.  I say “corners” because I am still not sure that Magellan got it right.  The Earth is about as round as an American Football, otherwise where does Everest come into the picture – surely it’s more than Mother Earth’s nipple?  And imagine what the “globe” might look like without the levelling effect of billions of gallons of briny ocean.

Reading, Berkshire, is an oenological corner of the UK that has cornered the market in bizarre Pinot Noirs including this one, courtesy of the Sunday Times Wine Club and via Reading from a far away corner of Europe known as Moldova.  Described as “Burgundy rivalling” by the STWC, I am not sure which corners of Burgundy they are talking about – presumably the darkest and dingiest ones.  There is a warning on the page that provides a clue.

Dark ruby colour (much deeper than Burgundy!)

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