Confessions of a Wino

My last (and first) visit to Fortnum & Mason 1707 Wine Bar was such a success, the very next time I was in London I revisited.

This time my flight comprised three Pinot Noirs and I also added a plate of charcuterie to nibble on.  At £13 an American would starve on this dish, but the quality soared.  The meat was, interestingly, not Italian, the most notable of a good bunch being Gloucester Old Spot Prosciutto which stood up to any Italian prosciutto I have ever tasted.

The Pinot Noirs were all worthy of drinking, for the record:

Fortnum & Mason Bourgogne Rouge Drouhin 2004 – soft and supple, the most subtle of the three with redcurrants and a creamy finish.

Merricks Creek Pinot Noir Victoria 2004 – a powerful strawberry flavour wine, jammy and louder than Ian Paisley in full rhetorical flow.

Pegasus Bay Pinot Noir Waipara 2004 – the most interesting of the bunch.  Cherries and some mineral.  A bit like the French one but with a bit of kiwi intensity and sharpness.

I couldn’t resist trying one more wine and was pleased to see the Fortnum & Mason Pomerol Clos Rene 2003 served in a Riedel Bordeaux glass from the Vinum range. Black fruits prevailed in contrast to the red fruited Pinots.  A bit of cooked cabbage, quite tannic with a long finish.  Quite a serious wine as you might expect

I tolerated some rude treatment from the staff because of the excellent pricing policy, £10 corkage being added to the shop price no matter the value of the wine.  Clearly the place to go if you fancy a 1961 Latour.

So I award F & M my top prize for least rip-off wine drinking prices in London wine bars or restaurants.

I also enjoy trying the flights of three wines linked by grape and comparing the different treatments.  But next time I think up an award, I really must construct a snappier name.

Finally, you don’t have to drink wine, coffee and tea is available.  It is also very quiet, so I use it for meetings when I am in Piccadilly/Mayfair.  I used to frequent The Wolseley for this purpose but it is nowadays too busy.  Oh well, my secret is out.  I’ll have to find somewhere new, now.  Ciao.

A letter arrived.  Not an email.  Not a text message.  Not even a telegram or a greeting card.  A letter, hand written, addressed to me, and delivered to the office.

Of course, I remember the days before this eloquent and pulchritudinous form of communication was rudely re-branded snail mail. Nowadays, I have to admit that I cannot recollect the last time I received a hand written letter.  This particular letter resulted in an uncommon sequence of events that lead me to Tingewick, a pretty country village in Buckinghamshire.

Tingewick, close to the intersection of the three counties of Bucks, Northants, and Oxon, is an architectural melting pot.  16th century thatched cottages huddle awkwardly next to 1940’s council houses like new kids meeting at school.  Grand mansions look down on their tiny peers who appear to doff their tiled roofs in deference.  Residents include a well known rock guitarist, a lottery winner, and my estranged Godmother.

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Our last day in Haute-Nendaz involved a lot of walking.  After a lot of walking, refreshment is essential.  On the way back to Le Déserteur hotel, I wanted to put in a lost property report at the Police Municipale.  Richard had lost a camera and, whilst he didn’t care too much for the money, he was sweating lead bullets over the contents of the digital flash card.  For a man who has recently given up biathlons, still goes bull fighting barefoot, and is rumoured to be The Stig you will understand that he doesn’t sweat – ever.

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Some people claim to learn something new every day.  Poor them!  I make it my point to learn at least 5 new facts every day.  Fact two on September 29th 2007 proved to be a stunna for me.  I can’t count the number of times I have been to Switzerland and drunk Dôle thinking that it was a local grape.  D’Oh!  Marie-Bernard Gillioz Praz was the evil person who gate-crashed my ignorance.

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Is the UK banking system about to collapse?  The current credit crunch has resulted in Northern Rock taking an “emergency” loan from the Bank of England.   Banks normally lend to each other but when times are tight, the BoE is there to ensure that confidence in the banking system is retained by being a lender of last resort (albeit at premium rates).  The Old Lady, and most financial commentators keep emphasising that Northern Rock is fully solvent and there is no crisis.  And yet Northern Rock customers are queuing round the block  to withdraw their savings.

We all know, from bitter personal experience, that building confidence in anything takes an age, whilst successful attempts to undermine confidence are normally sub-second torpedo strikes.

After building my confidence in several New Zealand Sauvignons I realised that Pinot Noirs from the land of kiwi were gaining in reputation, and promised to try one or two.  I didn’t have to queue round the block for this Wither Hills Pinot Noir 2004, which I simply ordered online.

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Jeff and I were in London for the Challenge Cup Final at Wembley.  Those of you not from Perpignan, Australia or the north of England will not understand Rugby League so let’s move on.  In any case RL was not the only sporting occasion of interest that day.

August Bank Holiday weekend in the UK and Chelsea FC (lucky home win against Portsmouth – David “Calamity” James to thank) knocks the glorious Man City (unlucky defeat away at the Arse) off the top spot of the English Premier League.  So we thought we better nip down to Chelsea and see what all the fuss was about.

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I did once manage to get some sort of degree from Leeds University Business School which is not exactly the Ivy League.  Still it stood me in good stead for being comprehensible – occasionally.  Sadly this was not true when I visited The Ivy with the wife.

Being in the West End we opened with a quick glass at the Cork & Bottle on Cranbourn Street and swiftly moved on to the surprisingly quiet location next to the St Martin’s Theatre where The Mousetrap has been playing since 1436:

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Although I generally disapprove of pre-selected cases, I do subscribe to the President’s Cellar from Sunday Times Wine Club which pings me 6 bottles every 6 months at about £20 per bottle.

It does force me to explore wines that I would not otherwise choose and you probably know that I am not the greatest fan of Australian wine.

This bottle of Tamar Ridge Pinot Noir 2002 came to me a few years ago from Tasmania, via the President’s Cellar and was getting to drinking up time.  So I opened it.

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