Confessions of a Wino

According to Haircut 100 in the 1980’s, my favourite shirt was “on the bed”, but it didn’t encourage me to do a somersault on my head.

Another musical/clothing misnomer came from Scottish warbler, Paolo Nutini who extolled the virtues of new shoes.  I think most readers will agree that old shoes are infinitely superior.  Only Oliver Sweeney makes mens’ shoes that fit quickly but they are bloody expensive.  Most Northampton based shoemakers require a 3 month run in period and an oil change.  Other brands simply expire within that period.

So we are left with our old favourites.  Comfortable and reassuring.  Loyal friends, whose passing we mourn like a childhood pet.

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I am always looking for awkward wine/food matches like boiled eggs, beans on toast, and chicken massalla.  I’ve just hit the jackpot with the latter having grabbed this Tannat based wine on a rare visit to Nicolas.

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Are you a wine magpie?  I can’t resist a tempting offer and, bearing in mind the stellar reputation of 2005 Bordeaux, a Wine Society mixed case from the Côtes was a no-brainer.  My theory that a rising tide lifts all boats (i.e. in a good year even crap winemakers are going to have to work hard to produce awful wine) leads me to try almost any CHEAP 2005.

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I have a theory that the more a place is off the beaten track the harder it has to work to get custom, the more it relies on regulars and, therefore, the better the food and wine.

32, Great Queen Street is on, well, you’ve guessed it.  Just off the main streets of Covent Garden and close to the Freemason’s Grand Lodge, I suppose I could have negotiated a discount had I rolled one trouser leg up and hopped inside holding a kipper to my ear.

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I assured some French friends who visited recently, that ignorant southerners who claimed that it rained in Manchester 24 hours a day were plain wrong.  In my experience the average precipitation is a considerably more modest 23.  I am looking forwards to tomorrow between 8 and 9am when we are promised a refreshing spot of light cloud.

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Sounding like a Vic Reeves’ Shooting Stars comedic expletive is not normally a criterion by which I evaluate whether to buy a wine, but somehow this just grabbed my attention on a recent visit to Majestic, Leeds.

South Africa is a bit of a blind spot in my wine rack and I occasionally have to remind myself that good wine comes from English speaking zones, as well and French and Spanish.

This wine is made from Syrah, Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot in proportions 42:32:26 and spends 10 months in French oak.

On opening there was faint Hydrogen Sulphide but this quickly dissipated and left a passable impression of a decent claret.  At first it smelt deep, moody and just a tad yeasty with a raspberry rush.  First sip was raspberry, violet, and vanilla.  Far from being spoilt, it was bright, fresh and almost as exciting as a freshly powdered slope (snow I mean, not cocaine).

Eranu or Uvavu?  Ugaba Stellenbosch 2006 is £11.99 at Majestic and this represents good value.  ERANU!

My good mate, Easto, came over for a barbecue at the weekend and brought a bottle he had stored for too many years (or so he thought).

Having recently bought into my two fundamental theories of life:
a) that wine should be drunk at the right temperature; and
b) that your best wine should be drunk and not left in your will,
he suggested I give this a quick blast in the fridge and get on with firing up the coals.

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Italian wines are often accused of being over-tannic.  I guess that is a matter of opinion but I woke up with a headache this morning.

Last night I had the pleasure of attending my first Wine Society event, an informal tasting within the impressive architecture of the Freemason’s Hall on Bridge Street.  Such things clearly need a theme and this one was “Italy from top to toe”.  Given the country in question one might equally have dreamt up “heel to sole” or “thirst to last”.  But that’s enough cobblers.

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Hotel restaurants always give me a slight sinking feeling. Reminders of 1980s boil in the bag meals; they always smell of stale cooking, probably because breakfast buffets are when they get 90% of their traffic.

The Hotel Russell probably counts early risers 99% of its clientele.  It’s easier to get a table at The Ivy than a breakfast table here.  Dinner, however, was predictably quiet.  A few lonely foreign travellers and one table of two couples from Yorkshire who were asking for more gravy – gravy shortages are punishable by death north of Watford Gap.

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Exploring the South of France is a profitable pastime right now and it is hard not to fancy it at least a little.  The art of seduction has not passed le Med by.  In fact every online wine merchant seems to have stocked up with credit crunch specials from this erstwhile unfashionable zone.

But there are uncomfortable price points too amongst the care free lovers.  For example, this Pic St Loup from the Wine Society was part of a price driven marketing drop, yet cost me a not insubstantial £12.95.

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