Confessions of a Wino

The big thing about buying wine in bond is that you are supposed to stash some aside for drinking later.  Especially if, like me, you are fortunate enough to own a Combine Harvester.

So how come, I’ve already drunk 7/12 of these bottles that arrived from the Sunday Times Wine Club in August 2009 with a recommended drinking date of up to 2014?

Well, good is good, and brilliant is brilliant, but this wine is awesome.  I can’t stop pouring it down my neck as if I was a human decanter.  Smooth yet spicy and zingy, it is everything I could wish of a Pinot Noir.  Tar, tea, cranberry and redcurrant and worth every penny of the £21 per bottle it eventually cost me.

Finally, one in the eye for the Kiwi arrivistes.

2004 was, by most commentators, considered to be a good year in Rioja, and Laguardia might be the prettiest village in all of Northern Spain.  So this wine has two things going for it already.

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I normally spend Easter breaks punishing my evil liver.  This time I’ve been sharpening the saw.  My third New Year resolution in a row, and most futile yet, to lose weight, has resulted in a lonely and shameless 2 pounds sneaking off disguised as female musicians.  So time for a bit less booze and a bit more exercise and, most incredibly, no chocolate at all.  I managed 492 sit-ups on Easter Monday amongst other exercise – ouch…

But all work and no play makes Wino a dull boy so to brighten my spirits I picked out an expensive bottle from the Combine Harvester to end the weekend.

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The prevailing wealth of rich winter spices is a constant reminder that we are less than a stock market “correction” away from Christmas.  I love seasonal spicy tea blends but this year’s Fortnum & Mason was a bit of a dog compared to last year’s Harvey Nichols’ hot stock.

The wine equivalent may well be Château D’Aiguilhe 2005, Côtes de Castillon.  This Merlot dominated Bordeaux blend is spicier than an investment banker’s underpants the morning after splashing the year end bonus on a (high class) Indian meal.

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I am Legend.  Well, not so much me as Will Smith.  Yes, I’ve just watched the film about the British scientist who inadvertently cures cancer with a virus that mutates into a killer strand that genocidinates the humans of the world (and for the purposes of the film, the World is New York).  One American male and a dog are the sole survivors charged with finding a cure.  I thought I could guess the ending but actually it finished rather suddenly, which was a shame as the plot was hugely promising and I was just starting to crap myself.

The last time I was genuinely scared at a horror movie was a David Cronenberg double bill of Rabid and Shivers at the Manchester Odeon in 1979.

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I am so excited I could eat a bowl of soup.  And if you want to be as excited as me you have until 11am tomorrow (1 December).  Oh, and you need to be a member of the Sunday Times Wine Club.  Oh, and you need to have a wine budget of at least £100.  I can’t see the same offer on the Laithwaites main site so maybe they will repeat this down the way.

The deal is that if you spend £100 you get 10% off.  Not that special, but if you can find £150 the discount ups to 15%, and if you are in the fortunate position of having £200 or more leaking from your trousers, 20% is your reward!

I’ve just placed an order for 6 bottles of Cheval des Andes 2005, an Argentinean stunner made in a Bordeaux style but with “robust” spinal chord of Malbec.  A well regarded wine, which is more than can be said for the abysmal website.

With a 20% discount, even including delivery charges I have just paid £37 per bottle.  Compare this to the normal STWC/Laithwaites prices of £45, the Majestic price of £50, and the rip-off Gaucho Wine Boutique price of £64.65, I think that is a bargain.

By the way, if you dine at Gaucho Grills, expect to see this wine on the list at £147.95 per bottle – oucho!

Surely it’s a W?  Why do I seem to disagree with most leading economists, investors and politicians?  In my wine tainted mind, a double dip recession is more certain than ever.  In the UK, at least.

We have temporary low purchase tax, temporary hyper-low interest rates and temporary Bank intervention, pumping money into the economy on a scale not seen since RBS started furnishing Sir Fred Goodwin with his pension.

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Silence please.  There is a time and a place for a little reverence.  I have just opened my first bottle of a very important wine.  Château Lynch-Bages 2005.  A wine that even en-primeur, cost me over £50 per bottle.

The Sunday Times Wine Club advised me to wait until 2010, but I could be dead by then and I am an impatient man….oh and I have 12 bottles so I can afford to experiment early.  So Fred had a placed a fillet steak on the skillet and I released the special one from its enclosure.

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Occasionally I like to take a break from Progressive House and listen to a couple of real “Old Skool” albums.  Tonight I sampled Counting Crows’ “August and Everything After”, Steve Winwood’s “Back in the High Life” and David Bowie’s experimental and innovative (at the time) “The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars”.  Top stuff, and could show those young whippersnapping beat stealers a thing or two.

Not everything old is implicitly good though.  Most old wine goes off sooner or later, so drink it before it does!

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Signs of ageing are mostly self generated and excepting wrinkles, are usually related to the people you socialise with, the places you go, and the material goods you consume.  I discovered what seems like yonks ago that BBC Radio 2 plays better music than Radio 1.  In fact it plays much the same music as Radio 1 did in the years when I used to listen in to Simon Bates and Noel Edmunds.  I swapped my exciting Toyota sports coupé for a boring Mercedes Saloon about the same time (and yes, the interior was beige).  Two cars later I have accelerated through an automatic gearbox, which took me a while to get used to, into full-on middle age – yes, a diesel automatic.

I like to think I have taken all this in my stride, but today I realised that I have just passed an altogether much more serious milestone.  I have never seen anyone under 50 wear Ralph Lauren but I looked in my wardrobe today and found five shirts by this venerable, if ageing, New York designer.  And what is worse, I actually like wearing them.

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