Confessions of a Wino

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.

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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.

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.

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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.

I’ve been looking for a reason to slate The Wine Society.  I have not always got on with this venerable and sometimes crusty institution.  At the moment, however, it seems that it can do no wrong.

So let’s try to find their Henry IV moment – not dying majestically in battle but from a limp bout of debilitating psoriasis.

A bog standard own brand at the low end of the price range? Check. From the cheap as chips, rough and ready end of France, the Languedoc? Check. Come. Sharpen the knives. Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown!

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Avoiding ugly tasting shite like Echo Falls, where do we look for a cheap, but decent, red wine?  South America is one place to focus on, where even the big brands can taste excellent.  The next place to look is probably the south of France.

This Languedoc came from the Wine Society at £5.50.  So, it fulfils the “cheap” requirement.  When first opened, bitter damsons clogged my cheeks forcing a Vito Corleone face-pull.  Not wanting a horse’s head on my pillow, I allowed it to warm and drank on.  It developed nicely in a vanilla and cherry compote frenzy.

It is always going to taste a little cheap , D’Oh!…It is!  But it goes incredibly well with hummus (other spellings are available) and pitta bread, and it is much more fashionable to be seen with than the branded wines from the US and Australia.

Mooching through Sainsbury looking for the perfect wine to match my experimental dish of pork chop with thyme, garlic and mustard, depression was setting in. Supermarkets only seem to stock lowest common denominator wines these days.  No experimentation, no originality, no joy.

I plumped for this Central Otago Pinot Noir at £9.99. A price point which, in riot torn Salford, apparently requires a security tag. How many bottles of wine can you actually smuggle out in your underpants? And how many rioters would actually dare to choose a Kiwi Pinot?

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If ever there was a wine that tasted of strawberries and cream (maybe with some rose hip syrup thrown in), this Anjou Rosé is it.  OK, so rosé is rarely going to make it onto your fine wine baseline, and to make a good food match point you are probably thinking “serving fresh shellfish on a warm, sunny terrace in Monaco”.

But this is not just Wimbledon fortnight, it is barbecue season and for once, Thor has kept his weapon in his pants.  So take advantage of these lazy warm nights and dip your toe, your racquet, or preferably your tongue in the rose coloured water of Anjou.

I got mine from the Wine Society at £6.25 (my balcony cost considerably more even though in Manchester, and not Monaco).  And as a post script may I add that the berry fruit sweetness offers a love-all counterpoint to salty blue cheeses, of the sort you might find on Thor’s weapon.

When you are a wine magpie like me, you tend to lose some bottles to middle age.  Kiwi Sauvignon Blancs from a couple of seasons ago, found looking (and tasting) forlorn in the corner of the garage.  Cheap and cheerful cherry flavoured Malbecs that prove that half lives apply outside the nuclear industry.

I dug out a few old bottles from the bottom of the rack recently and this appeared, purchased from Majestic a couple of years ago.  I feared the worst.  But still opened it, obviously!

I should have trusted Catena (the reliable makers) and Bibendum (the reliable importers) and, in no small part Majestic (the now evergreen but reliable retailer), who despite their various mark-ups only billed me £7.99 for this excellent wine.

Full of smooth zingy fruit, it is still quite ‘in your face’ like a New Zealand Pinot Noir, but somehow with a surprising amount of refinement.  I treated myself to a bottle at about 15 degrees with beans, bacon, mustard and watercress on toast (I know what you are thinking…..phwaaaarp).  YUM!

I got reprimanded on Twitter (I am @tiptoptaps) for slagging off wine brands, when I made a curt comment about Jacob’s Creek.  In response to a question from someone interviewing the head winemaker at JC, whether I had any questions for him, I put my tongue in my cheek and said “yes, could he stop?”  But I am not against wine brands at all.  It is a massive mistake to judge a lady by her dress sense.  Even if you are desperate.

For example, I have always shown affection for scantily clad beach babes from Chilean conglomerate, Concha y Toro, and especially their sub-brand Casillero del Diablo.  OK, it is not fine wine, but this cost me £6.99 from Sainsbury (available from many sources including Tesco and, I haven’t bothered to check, but presumably Morrisons and Asda too, and maybe Somerfields and Co-op).  How is such a ubiquitous and cheap wine so tasty?

Put aside your preconceptions about mass produced wine.  CyT keep demonstrating that large quantities of grapes can be turned into very drinkable slosh.

The Carmenère is always a bit of a bonfire night wine.  Autumn fruits and the smell of real wood fires.  Make sure you stick it in the fridge for 30-40 minutes before drinking to maximise the flavour (see WART).