Confessions of a Wino

Super trouper.  No, not a huge stage light illuminating Anni-Frid’s gorgeous pupils.  Not a 1960’s smog over London.  Not even a receptacle for doggie-doos (or is that a pooper scooper?)

None of the above.  Just my thoughts on the first 2005 Gevrey Chambertin I can remember tasting.

This Gevrey is top notch for a mere £20.99 from the Sunday Times Wine Club.

OK, that is far from cheap but I think it is worth it.  Bright as a button with forest fruits, hay and meringue, it is a veritable farmyard pavlova.

Didn’t last long…..

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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If you like to listen to something achingly, teasingly left wing, politically correct, family friendly and yet, despite all that, extremely listenable, I can recommend The Chronicles of Modern Life by Henry Priestman.  Clearly I am not that left wing (although I am not 100% sure what that means these days) but I am over 40 and, if you are too, I defy you not to cast a wry smile at Henry’s astute observations on wrinkle gathering.

On the other hand, if you prefer to ignore the effects of ageing and address your sagging brow by drowning your sorrows, you probably drink too much Aussie Chardonnay.  I don’t drink anywhere enough so I was pleased to receive this Burnmore as part of a STWC crisp refreshing whites case (£60) several months ago.

It is difficult to have high hopes of a wine that costs less than a fiver including shipping all the way from Oz.

As a Semillon Chardonnay blend, I suppose it is no surprise that it tastes like 10 parts St Veran and 1 part Sauternes.  Lemon and honey and much better than the price tag indicates.  If you happen to have a bottle in your cellar, I would drink it right now to see if it really will cure your wrinkly neck.

I have some empathy with John Major and his propensity to give her a pubic service.  Edwina Currie, in her prime, was almost certainly a foxy chick, and she sure has the personality to entertain a Minister of State.  However, her period of public service is not remembered fondly by the British egg trade.

Now though, it seems eggs are safe after all – hoorah!  Boiled eggs are one of my staple dishes and I eat far more than the three a week that most of the public (including me) used to think was safe.

But is there a wine that matches my eggy soldiers?  Will two bell towers stand proud to the challenge?

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Is the Sony brand dead?

I used to be a Sony snob – hifi, TVs, Playstations, Walkmans.  OK I admit I never had a Betamax, but I know early adopter friends who did.  In the 1970s our household was the first in the street with a colour TV.  In the 1980s we were last to invest in VHS technology, albeit by virtue of Radio Rentals and with a third of my first adult weekly paycheque as a deposit.

I am currently watching a Sony TV from the 1990s which is fab. I also own a Sony TV from 2007 that is total tosh – picture quality, software, remote control – all about as user-friendly as a Doberman shaped perambulator.

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I’m in Dublin for Christmas and for the first time there are several pubs opening on St Stephen’s Day.  There was a time when this holy, but dry, day was almost as sacrosanct as Good Friday.  It’s always fun coming for an Easter break, getting on the plane with a load of stag and hen parties innocent of the complete pub shut down.  Already anticipating a top Friday’s binge drinking, like alcoholic lambs to the slaughter of the Guinness Reaper, the look on faces when word gets around, and if no-one else has told them then I am happy to take on the role of harbinger of doom, that Ireland does not do pubs on Good Friday.  But judging by this St Stephen’s, maybe next year will be different.  Irish Society has changed dramatically in the 10 years I have known it.  Part multicultural immigration, part Celtic Tiger driven affluence (and effluence), it is even possible to find a good selection of restaurants in Dublin these days (although fewer and fewer pubs).

Talking of expectations, I have few when it comes to Rhone reds.  It is probably the single region of France I ignore the most.  But this is not a dislike of wines from the region, simply a blind spot.  By the time I have drooled over various Bordeaux and Burgundy reds, my French Red Wine Budget has such an adverse variance there is nothing left for other regions.

But occasionally a nice looking wine arrives and is debited to my Mixed Case budget.   This one was a double entry in a 6 bottle pack from the Sunday Times Wine Club as part of their President’s Cellar offer – two half cases per year at about £20 per bottle.

Yann Chave Hermitage 2005 is actually reported as £30 per bottle on the STWC website – ouch!  Is this spicy Syrah worth that?

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Château Durfort-Vivens Margaux 2003, a deuxième cru from Lucien Lurton who also owns another 2nd growth Margaux property, Château Brane-Cantenac,  82.3784% Cabernet Sauvignon with 9.632% Cabernet Franc and the remainder Merlot.  20 months in oak.

If you want to read stuff like this go somewhere serious like www.decanter.com.  If facts bore you and you prefer the experience of wine, then why not join me having fun as I learn.

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When my flat was constructed in 2006, at the peak of the city centre building boom in Manchester, decent workmen were hard to find, or so it seems.  One employee of venerable but notorious subcontractors, Boddgit and Scarper, found a new use for 4 inch nails:  Namely to use them not only to station a roughly fitted cupboard shelf but also to make an elegant, if unnecessary, belly button piercing in the hot water pipe that feeds the kitchen tap.

It is a miracle that this did not result in a visible leak until late summer of 2008.  The nail finally rusted away and now most of the hall floor, skirting and cupboard wall has been temporarily removed, whilst a dehumidifier is valiantly trying to soak up the excess “moisture” like a digital sponge.

I often find that Aussie Shirai (I assume that is the plural of Shiraz) are a bit drying in the mouth, so I don’t drink anywhere near the amount of down under wines that I should.  I am not about to launch a flood of reviews but let’s try to redress the balance one drip at a time eh?  A drop of Eden Valley “The Saviours” 2003 had been sitting in my rack for a while.  I needed something to take my mind off things.

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Peter May suggested that I get off my Pinot Noir high horse and start thinking seriously about Chenin Blanc.  But this is like asking me to trade in Brigitte Bardot for Barbra Streisand.  Whilst the latter is an interesting multi-faceted personality, a highly talented actress, and capable of singing almost any song, you just wouldn’t would you?

Meanwhile the Bardot of grapes is unreliable, sulky, difficult to master, but if you woke up next to her you would reach for your mobile and ring in sick (well in her prime, anyway, which sort of proves my point).

But perhaps I am missing Peter’s point.  The intellectual challenge of giving a winemaker a blank canvas like Chenin Blanc could create a satisfying long term relationship, rather than a one night stand with some Pinot Noir or other, that leaves one feeling, frankly, used.  Sex delivers the shortest high of all drugs, love perhaps the longest.

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I visited Spain for a weekend recently, and tried a few wines with various blends of Viura, Malvasia and Verdejo.  Not many left an impression, to be honest.  I have a friend who doesn’t drink Spanish wine unless from Rioja.  I think that is a bit binary.  For example there are some great Albariños from Galicia, and Ribero del Duero is hardly shy in getting their punters to part with large sums of wonga for their best wines…  But I take his point that Rioja is perhaps more consistent, whereas other areas require discretionary selection.

This bottle, like Don Quixote, came from La Mancha, unless I’m a daydreamer.  I found it in the “Spain and Portugal” section of my wine rack and it was part of a Sunday Times Wine Club (Laithwaites) “Crisp refreshing whites” case (about £60 the dozen).

I am not sure what to conclude.  At the price, it is OK.  As a party wine it would go down a treat if you chilled it to 3°C or below and served it to Sancho Panzas or ASBOs.  As a serious wine compared to any other Sauvignon or so called “crisp dry white”, I found it a little too citric and perhaps best suited to the tartest of lemon dresed shellfish, rather than as an aperitif.  However, if you are a donkey houghty type, wake up and smell the gooseberry.  You never know, you might like it!

At the time of writing it is still available from Laithwaites at £5.67, and as you can probably tell, I have never read any Cervantes.