Confessions of a Wino

Hunger is a great sauce, as certain chefs keep reminding me. I wonder how that pie tasted to Magwitch, the one that Pip selflessly stole? It formed the thesis for an entire Dickens novel, such is the power of food, and feelings.

After 3 weeks on the prison ship of abstinence, does wine taste any different? I’ve just opened this St Estèphe and I think I have the presence of mind to review it objectively. It’s fucking awesome!

Whilst still young and tannic (I decanted mine), which means it went superbly with a ribeye steak, it also had a certain fruity sweetness that made a rare red wine match for chocolate. Lindt Selection if you must know, although I am sure you can experiment yourself. Probably worth leaving another year or two, but if you are desperate to open a bottle, you will be far from disappointed.

Mine came from Sunday Times Wine Club (Laithwaites) President’s Cellar which implies a price of £20-30, and I did see it at Berry Bros for around £27.50, although currently out of stock. If you’ve been off wine for a while, or even if you’ve been drinking like Bentley Drummle at your posh London club, it’s worth the extra for a little treat.

At two separate Wine Society events recently, one wine has stood head and shoulders above the rest for me, and I have been looking for an opportunity to shout it out.

However, it raises a wider issue about wine branding.  When it comes to certain wines (mostly French if I am honest) I like to think that I should be able to choose the original wine over one badged by a retailer.  So am I being immodest to think that I can do better than an institution that has been around since 1874?  Am I <gasps> a “wine snob”?  And worse, an ill-informed one to boot?

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I woke up with the sweetest hangover.  The type that brings hazy memories of the day before.  Not caused by alcohol.  Oh no, something far more important.  Football.

But, one has to eat, and drink, and get on with life so, in anticipation of victory, I had booked us into Barbecoa, Jamie Oliver’s new venture in Cheapside in the City.  And as a hangover cures go, you could do worse than select from the “Bites” menu.  The mountain of bread with home made butter was as filling as it was delicious.  A “portion” of pork crackling (£4) was large enough to serve 16 Northern beer drinkers based on the size of pub bags when I was a nipper.  And needless to say the flavour and crunch was in a new class, (but I am known as a bit of a porker).

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Fellow Wino and blogger, Edward, threw down a gauntlet.  I haven’t played chess in 20 years and I’ve no idea how to send a letter to Australia.  So, following Bathgate logic, I took up the challenge and we have now locked horns in a game of postal chess!

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On a frenzied wine tour through Bordeaux it’s nice to take a relaxing break for a long lunch, and you could do much worse than stop in Pauillac during your Medoc leg.

La Salamandre, looking out directly over the river is charming, top quality, well presented, and has a great wine list.

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After a visit to the Wine Gallery in Bordeaux where I tasted some of the best (or in any case, most expensive) wines in the world, La Brasserie Bordelaise was the destination for a bloody, but fatty, grisly and tough, entrecôte steak.  What could match the power of Château Latour or Cheval Blanc to accompany such a dish?

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Tucked away in a place so secret that only the French Foreign Legion knows of its existence, this place is more charming than Dartagnan and better for juicing up a hot date than a pair of George Clooney’s underpants.

You can expect French service, though, which is the exact opposite of New York service.  That is to say, friendly but slow.

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In what turned out to be the fortunate circumstance of a cancelled flight, I found myself in Bordeaux for an unexpected extra night.  This gave me the opportunity to fulfil a bit of a dream.

Entering through the unassuming entrance of Max Wine Gallery you could be forgiven for thinking that you are entering a posh handbag or clothes boutique.  But, inspect further and inside you will find not Chloe or Hermès, but brands a bit closer to my heart, and liver.

Bottles of various top growths from Médoc, St Emilion and Sauternes are imprisoned within glass cases but with tempting little spouts indicating a tad of promiscuity to willing punters.  A wino heaven, although at a price.

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Where better to try a Bordeaux Grand Cru than in its home town?  Problem is pecuniary.  Although restaurants around Bordeaux ask reasonable mark-ups, this still involves voluntary surgery.  To keep my arms and legs intact, my cunning plan was to buy the wine from a local shop and take it to the restaurant which, for convenience, was Le Savoie, bang in the centre of Margaux.

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A revisit to this wine that I last enjoyed (immensely) a couple of years ago.  I am almost sorry that I have just glugged my last bottle of Château Sociando-Mallet 2001.  On this form I really ought to order some more, but it has gone up in price rather a lot since I purchased.  Up to £40 per bottle right now.  Ooof – one in the nuts for my wine budget.  Actually, I was one of those footballing kids who used to duck when planted in the wall.  I also made my own a useful, if cowardly, habit of turning around as the kick was taken, to protect my valuables at the expense of seeing the ball.  Oh well, it’s only a goal isn’t it?  On reflection, I am surprised I never made it into the England squad, when you look at the current crop.

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