Confessions of a Wino

If you look at any wine list with a sweet section, you have a better than evens chance of seeing Beaumes de Venise. But, it is rare to see reds from this Rhone village, especially in UK and US restaurants.

I’ve been ordering a Jaboulet BdV en primeur for years. At about £10 a bottle it stinks of value to high heaven. A fresh young juicy red that goes great with spicy pork or lamb dishes and is generally best drunk within a year or two of receipt.

With ‘spooky coincidence’ written on the packing receipt, a few days before my annual Jaboulet instalment arrived from the 2010 vintage, a sample of another marque arrived. I like taste tests.

Domaine la Brune is rich, deep and devious and contains more Scary Spice than a Portuguese Douro. Went well with Lincolnshire sausages and mash. The Jaboulet is lighter, brighter faced and more fruity, in an Emma Bunting sort of way. Both wines have a creaminess often experienced by men viewing the Spice Girls in their prime…

Take your pick, or explore other BdV reds. Maybe you will find Geri or Victoria.

I paid The Wine Society £11.28 per bottle (en primeur) for the Jaboulet. The Domaine de la Brune is available from Christopher Keiller at £117.50 per case (equiv. £9.79 per bottle).

A good test of expensive Burgundy wines (white or red) is whether they go with beans on toast.

I paid Virgin Wines £23.99 for this Pernand-Vergelesses, gulp…. If you join one of the opaque monthly payment schemes, you can make it cheaper. Personally, I’m sick of trading £20 per month for a “discount” on wines, so I have stopped all such accounts (including Virgin) and I am sticking to retailers with simple principles: Join up, look at the website, decide whether to buy, secure in the knowledge that you can nearly always find a competitor price in the event of lingering doubt.

Clearly meeting the expensive moniker, this Vallet Frères is rounder than a grapefruit, zingier than a grapefruit, and fruitier than a grape. This is important because to stand up to the shock and awe of (Branston) baked beans requires a good slug of fruit, gentle tannins and battery like acidity. Tick. Tick. Tick.

BRING OUT THE BRANSTON!

A refreshing white wine from Galicia is no surprise, but a non-vintage one is uncommon. More unusual, but much appreciated, is advice on drinking temperature on the back label. In this case, 10-12 degrees. If you chill your white wines in a typical household fridge, that, means taking it out about an hour before drinking.

Most whites of any substance should be drunk much warmer than frigo. Otherwise differentiating between a Blue Nun and a Bâtard-Montrachet is going to reveal neither the sins of the former, nor the virtues of the latter.

Cumio, made from some blend of Treixadura and Palomino grapes, a refreshing change from tired Albariños from the same north western corner of Spain, is certainly refreshing and light – only 11% alcohol. It is also much more complex and serious than a seaside holiday seafood slurping wine. Possibly a touch over-acidic, but fruity as hell.

If you live near Manchester you can find it at the ever reliable Hanging Ditch for £12.50.

Hosting a dinner party? Got a few sample bottles that you’ve been meaning to taste for ages? Want to follow up an amateurish and inconclusive post on Grand Cru Chablis? A perfect storm for a blind tasting. The brief is simple: take a Chablis Villages, a Premier Cru, and a Grand Cru and see if there is a meaningful, that is to say pecuniarily justified, difference. All wines were from the 2010 vintage.

The bottles, elegantly disguised in blue carrier bags whose former contents were the meat for tonight’s main course, looked like three prisoners in front of a firing squad. As the wino of the party, to be blunt, I could feel the rifles aiming in my direction. I was papping myself. Here are my notes in the order we tasted.

Wine 1: fruity but full bodied,very smooth and tastes well oaked. Not so much flinty steely pebbles as rich plummy apricot and honey. I’m guessing this is the GC
Wine 2: bit steelier but lovely acidity, not oaky. Grassy more than fruity and a little bit of afterburn in the throat. This is probably the Villages.
Wine 3: appley, some flint, quite rounded – I think this is the PC.

Wine 1 in the centre of the podium turned out to be Christian Moreau Chablis Grand Cru Les Clos, a deserved winner but at a price. Imported by Thorman Hunt & Co the RRP is £33.80.

Wine 2, on the right, is Vincent Dampt Chablis and a bronze medal winner which might explain the difficulty in differentiating it from the Premier Cru. Corney & Barrow do this at £13.95.

Wine 3 is the Premier Cru, this one a Christophe & Fils, Fourchaume that is imported by A & B Vintners and the RRP is £14.58.

The main conclusion to be drawn is that a blind tasting livens up a dinner party and focuses people attention on the wine. It’s a lot of fun. The consensus was that Grand Cru Chablis clearly stood out and is worth the extra for special occasions. Telling the difference between the Villages and the PC was very difficult and the scores were split, which is reflected in the close price range, to be fair.

So, that may be another amateurish analysis, but at least this time, it’s conclusive.

Drinkable white wine at less than a tenner a bottle is getting harder to find. What if you are sick of Echo Falls, Gallo, and Jacob’s Creek? What is the thinking man’s oenological WAG?

From the country that is rapidly becoming the home of football, white Riojas made from Viura, Malvasia and Verdejo grapes are a good starting point, especially from a price perspective. I visited Marqués de Riscal in 2008 and was impressed by the quality of the prevailing base white wine, especially scoffed with highest quality Pata Negra cured pork. Technically this white is not from Rioja but the nearby Rueda region bit it shares all the typical features of its cousin.

Pleasantly surprised to find it at Majestic for only £6.49 I reached into the fridge for some Sainsbury’s “Taste The Difference” chorizo Ibérico Bellota and unscrewed the cap.

This Verdejo tastes a tad Thai: Dill, lemongrass, ginger and a touch of chilli mark out the corners of the pitch. The goalposts are stacked, not from jumpers, but pink grapefruit husks.

Fruity, fresh and refreshing, it’s no wonder white Riojas are so often seen as house wines in London restaurants and frequently present the best value on the list. If you are the Thai bride of a Spanish footballer playing in England, take note.

Is Godello the new Albariño? Think back 5 years.

Grape from North-Western Spain? Check. Light fruity white wine? Check. Almost unknown in the UK? Check. A tad over-priced? Check. This one cost me £15.99 from Latitude in Leeds. Oof!

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One of the wine guys in Majestic (most of them are pretty knowledgeable in a wonderfully geeky kind of way), recommended this, when I enquired about big Chardonnays. Surely you are just recommending your latest offer? Admittedly buying two bottles to save £12 is a good deal, but it sounds like you are trying to get rid of it. “No I tried some at home last weekend – really fruity, big and scrumptious”.

He meant in a new world style, rather than a classic Burgundy. I’m not sure. The heaviest thing about this wine, apart from the slightly excessive 14% ABV, is the bottle. I know I paid its air freight from Argentina, but delicate petals adorn the inside. It tastes pretty classy. Quite peachy with vanilla and elderflower. The only new world giveaway is a nod towards one of those banana shaped foam sweets from the Pick n Mix.

Regular readers know that I am a big fan of Catena Zapata wines. This one is not cheap at £23, but with a double bottle discount reducing the price to £17, it is well worth a try. Drank mine with a simple pork chop cooked on the skillet at about 12 degrees (the wine not the chop).

My take on Carménère, especially when made in Chile, where it is more commonly called Carmenère or even the totally vulgar Carmenere, is that it smells of real wood fires. The wonderful scent that welcomes you back to a Cotswolds village on a crisp winter evening after a long walk in the hills, when you are making your last, trudging and tired, but relentlessly determined steps towards a cosy, heart and toe warming pub.

This Chilean model, which lacks self-confidence to the extent that it opens its kimono on the front label to guide your taste buds towards an “exotic and spicy, full bodied style with damson and blackberry fruit”, has so much smoke it triggers a gag reflex. When first poured, a dip of the nose is like putting your head over the top of the Cotswold village smoking chimney. Face crumples. Nose drips. Eyes bleed.

Fortunately the wine does mellow a bit when tasted, but there remains a slightly astringent and  cacophonous afterburn. Not great for a wine being punted by Majestic for £7.99.

Drink it very cool or better still, opt for the vastly superior Casillero del Diablo Carmenère even more widely available and in the same price bracket.

Are you a bit snooty about supermarket wines? I am, but I shouldn’t be. After a warm experience with a couple of Asda whites recently, I was intrigued enough to attend a Tesco wine tasting where this Chablis stood out from the “Finest” range.

Steely, minerally Chardonnays from this northern Burgundy region can occasionally taste like putting your tongue across the poles of a 9v battery. Conversely, on opening, this one is full of soft ripe peachy fruit, a bit too soft. But, as the wine warms (best left out of the fridge for about an hour before drinking) the fruit starts sucking on a black Welsh beach pebble. Not at all over-acidic, very classy and smooth and, as a result, better with roast pork than seafood.

If you shop at Tesco, you might be interested in the code XXH4H4 which, when entered into the Tesco website before Dec 31, 2012, will get you a “no strings attached” £5 discount from a case of wine of your choice.

Have a rethink about supermarket wines, some are better than two slaps across the thigh with a wet kipper from the fish stand. Depending on your sexual persuasion, arguably much, much, better.

If you judge a book by its cover or a wine by its label, hide your head behind the sofa now. I’ve never read such total utter bollocks on a wine bottle. Piers Morgan and Worzel Gummidge’s love child could have written something more coherent and less smug. Fortunately, I have an open mind. Unscrew the cap, James…

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