We Will Rock You was a decent show, albeit mostly performed by under-studies on the wet Saturday afternoon we were in the audience. Fortunately it was dry inside the theatre and, whilst the programme (£4) did not reveal the storyline, the show turned out to be set in the long distant future and was a McLeanesque retrospective on the day the music died…or didn’t…yawn!
I am sitting here idly watching a football match. It is Euro 2008 and I am watching with aggressive disinterest because my team (England) did not qualify. Players from the other teams I am, by ancestry or marriage, entitled to support - Scotland and Ireland, are also sat on a beach somewhere spending their “hard-earned” footballers’ wages on pina coladas.
Like Euro 2008, my world tour of Pinot Noirs has had plenty of representatives from across Europe but not one from the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. So much for global warming.
This one came from the spiritual home of Pinot Noir, Burgundy. Part of the ancient footballing nation of Gauls. And in the religion that celebrates this fickle red grape, whether or not worshipping les bleus, the Cathédrale Notre Dame is the Cote D’Or.
Delivered via the Sunday Times Wine Club in a “Pure Pinot Noir” case for £69.99, this is a basic Bourgogne AOC from 2004, but still well priced at just over £7 (about a gallon of gasoline for US readers).
I found it tasted of gooseberry, redcurrant, blackberry and damp logs with a little earthiness thrown in as if to acknowledge the religious origins of my argument. Slightly on the acidic side but very nice and I’d definitely drink it again. I would recommend serving it fairly well chilled – give it at least an hour in a household fridge before opening.
My wino mate, Robert, opened a debate about whether bringing a supermarket branded wine showed good judgement, or embarrassed your dinner party hosts.
Most winos concluded that it shows good form to see through the label and judge the wine. In fact, spotting a bargain winissimo in sheep’s clothing is a big coup for a wine snob (assuming he can convince his friends that the wine is really worth much more than the actual price). I have a personal view here. I simply don’t care where the wine comes from, or the name on the label, or the price, but I am a sucker for packaging. On that measure I am not sure why I picked up this ugly bottle at Sainsbury for £6.99.
So, the worst kept secret in football has finally been revealed. Sven-Göran Eriksson has been sacked by Manchester City. I am always one to say I told you so, but on this occasion I have evidence. I did predict that it would all end in tears.
Now, the rumour mill has turned up Mark Hughes as the top candidate. At this point I have to stand up for Sven. He had a horrific end to the season, results-wise, but he still ended up 9th in his first season in charge of an otherwise relegated club. The Premiership “superstar” in charge of Blackburn Rovers finished an astonishing 3 points and two places higher, after several years in charge of his club. In what sense does that promise a better performance next year? I have two resolutions if Mark Hughes is appointed
1. I will only attend the first home game of the season next year and I vow to sing “Sven-Göran Eriksson” for as long and as loud as my voice will stand.
2. I will not be deflected from my world tour of Pinot Noirs. Meet Zarcillo.
I spent a week in the Beaujolais region during the vendange of 2005. Don’t be stupid, I wasn’t picking grapes, merely relaxing, doing a little walking, some good eating and plenty of wine drinking. My favourite spot was Fleurie with two great little bistro restaurants and one, more famous, mushroomy one with a star from some rubber company (too expensive and too indoors for me so I didn’t bother).
Personally I loved Café de la Bascule, where properly chilled local wines were poured over lazy autumn sunsets, accompanied by fine, but rustic, French food and just a pinch of French arrogance to season.
At the time, the marvellous 2003 vintage was running out fast. People were fighting like Biafrons at an impromptu pizza party to get the last bottles, and being a big fat bloke, I managed to grab a few from local suppliers.
It turns out that 2005 was a pretty nifty year too, and I recently realised I had not tried much. So off to the Wine Society website to see what was left.
“Serve this Pinot Noir cool (my emphasis) in a big glass to fully appreciate……” so said the label on the back of this wine. So why are most bloody restaurants so bloody determined to serve me red wine so bloody warm????
I realised recently, that I had been ignoring Oz wines (sorry Edward!), and that I have not visited Majestic in ages so, on the way back from a Saturday morning haircut recently, I dropped in to see if I could combine these two shortfalls by asking what the inhabitants of Van Diemen’s land could do with the sex kitten of grapes.  Majestic came up with this gem at a mere £9.99.Â
When you live in the northern hemisphere, it is easy to forget that in Oz, the further south you go, the closer you are to a frozen pole. So maybe Tasmania is the Pinot Noir friendly Bourgogne-u-like to Clare Valley’s Cabernet Sauvignon friendly Bordeaux-wish-it-was? I have a different theory, as you might expect.
I’ve just returned from the opening night of the Opera North production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Shakespeare’s play reconfigured as an opera by melody dodger, Benjamin Britten, whose proud boast seems to be never to have written an opera in a major key.
I normally love Opera North (full disclosure, I know one of the chorus quite well), but I am not a Britten fan. A Midsummer Night’s Dream reminded me of all the negative aspects of the earlier, and otherwise superior, Peter Grimes. Incessant horns and strings in deliberate discord, keeping the audience on its edge in the same way Hammer House of Horror films used organ fugues to build tension. Britten never seems to let go, though. It was like sitting on a train, delayed because of a fatality on the line. One feels sorry for the victim (or cast in this case) but I just wanted to get home as quickly as possible. Listening to a gauntlet scratching up and down a blackboard would have been more entertaining, and arguably, more musical.
The humour (what little existed) was 50 years old and could probably only have been written by a tortured homosexual of the repressed mid 20th century. There were clearly a few from that era in the audience, occasionally chortling and even applauding.  I watched with the same cringingly embarrassed feeling of watching a Carry On film from the Beatles epoch. Fortunately, to avoid total boredom, I was simply able to stare up at the awesome ceiling of Leeds Grand Theatre, the home of Opera North, and surely one of the best theatres in the world for architectural detail.
Just round the corner from the Grand Theatre is Lounge Bar and Grill, and that is where we chose to eat before the performance. With 25% off, the bill for two with a bottle of wine came to only £40 plus service. Even for Leeds that is cheap.
Amongst the dark satanic mills of Halifax, West Yorkshire, there are indeed some green and pleasant pastures, and nestling in the hills we found Shibden Mill Inn. We once stopped for a quick Sunday lunch on a walking expedition and vowed to go back. On 1 March, Fred had just picked up a brand new Mini Cooper, so a drive out to somewhere remote seemed appropriate.
I feel sure it is too early for some purists. Maybe I am the early bird breaking fast on the first worm.  I have been trying several 2005 Bordeaux early release red wines, for example here, here, here, and here with mixed, but mostly good results.
You may not think that January 2008 is all that early to release 2005 wines, but I recently received a letter from the importer, from whom I purchased my special 2005 en primeur wines, kindly informing me that Spring 2008 was likely to be the earliest I would receive my precious Château Lynch-Bages, Château Guiraud and others.
So whilst waiting, I have been obliged to drink from the dawn dew, to eat from the darling buds of May, to to sup from the honeypot of youth (something I have not done in years).
But from the moment I opened the fridge door to retrieve my bottle of Château Lacombe Cadiot, I felt there was something different, something new about this wine. For a start there was some information on the bottle. This was in French as well as English. Secondly, it was a not-overpowering 12.5%. Thirdly, it had a recommended drinking temperature of a perfect 16 degrees Celsius (you have heard me moan before about red wines served too warm). Fourthly, on opening it was the first wine from the bordelais that I can remember having a plastic cork. Four out of four so far then!
The wine tastes of rhubarb crumble with custard. Although I am not the greatest fan of rhubarb, it is the best 2005 Bordeaux I have yet tasted. Still a little tannic I am sure it will benefit from another 6 to 12 months in bottle. If only I could remember where I got it from I would order some more. A quick Google failed to find any UK suppliers. Any help appreciated!
Less than a week after its release (or some might say escape) the fuss about the poor quality of Beaujolais Nouveau this year is already rife. So, always keen to avoid the inanely topical, I thought I might take the opportunity to delve into the past.
Stumble It!
