Confessions of a Wino

“Armstrong and Miller in Gay Threesome Shocker” read the headline, admittedly only in my head, as the comedy pair walked past us with an unknown accomplice, perhaps a BBC commissioning editor?

“I didn’t know they were gay” Fred said.  “They aren’t” I replied, “so far as I know anyway”, although judging by their choice of fruity shirts one cannot be 100% certain.

We had a decent table near the magnificent bay window atop the ageing Whiteley’s Shopping Centre.  The stars were enveloped by the bay.  The atmosphere is light and airy and the service prompt, efficient, courteous and professional.  Our mop-topped waiter looked like an early 60’s Beatle, so I assumed he was French (as a nation they do like old music – I mean, walk around any public space in France and Phil Collins persists like a 1980’s itch that is weeping puss).  When he described the cheese I realised his French accent was completely fake “erm….. I is Polish” he admitted.  Nonetheless, serve he did, and he was knowledgeable about wine as well as food.

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I had been looking forward to trying this Chablis wishitwas at £12.95.  Unfortunately, all three bottles I received were badly oxidised and completely undrinkable.  Needless to say the Wine Society honoured its usual pledge and refunded my 39 quid promptly.

Another from Virgin and you may recall me sampling a range of wines from a mixed case I took as an introductory offer.  The results of my samples have been mostly good and my conclusion on Virgin is that for everyday glugging wines, if you choose carefully you will find value rather than fine wines, drinkability rather than complexity, down to earth language rather than pretension.

This Chablis, though, tasted most unlike Chablis.

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I’m making a move for Pinot Noir, the Brigitte Bardot of grapes.  Beguiling, attractive, seductive, fruity, yet inconsistent and possibly a little bonkers.

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If you want to dine in a beautifully preserved piece of British Victorian architecture.  If you want to eat traditional English grub like fish ‘n’ chips, corned beef hash and steak and kidney pudding.  If you want to be served by professional, traditionally dressed, polite and informed waiting staff.  And if you want to do this with a cracking fine wine list to choose from, there is only one place to go.  Sam’s Chop House in Manchester.

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Another mixed bag of news in the last couple of weeks.  I spent several hours in hospital but not as many as Mrs Wino who suffered another miscarriage.  On a much more positive note, Man City completed a glorious double over some lowly team from Stretford.  Throw into the mix a really busy time at work and I almost missed Confessions of a Wino’s first birthday.

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My jury has been deliberating on a verdict for the Costco wine buyers for some time now.  Do they market good wines and sell them at reasonable prices, or do they simply find cheap wines that look expensive?  For example, good names in bad years, second wines from average producers, albeit from good regions.  I mean, why would reputable domaines want to sell their best quality wine at a discount, on a regular basis, in large quantities?  This Puligny Montrachet was from Costco and was not that cheap being £12.75 plus VAT

The only other online price comparator I could find was at Fine Wine Online where it was £14.95 – so Costco is actually £0.03125 more expensive per bottle.

The wine was fine actually.  It had some nice zing from the quince flavour, balanced by the smoothness of butter shortbread.  A fairly long finish and quite enjoyable to quaff.

Not much of a discount though, guys!  Try again.

Chicken or egg?  The long standing debate about which came first will never be resolved by a cartoon depicting one or the other enjoying a post-coital cigarette.  Let’s face it, smoking is banned almost everywhere these days.  So I had to find another way to establish the truth.

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Just down the road from the entrance to the Ritz on Arlington St, just off Piccadilly, you will find Le Caprice, a favourite haunt of the stars for several decades.  This part of London is over-endowed with decent restaurants.  To quaint northerners like me this seems unfair.

The Wolseley is just round the corner, as is Langan’s Brasserie, Claridge’s, Scott’s of Mayfair, and Fortnum & Mason.  Meanwhile in the nearby West End, The Ivy, sister to Le Caprice, is undoubtedly one of the best restos in London despite the nouvellement célèbrés and the nouveaux riche who visit only to be seen rather than to enjoy food and wine.  So was Le Caprice, part of the group that owns The Ivy, as good as its sibling?

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This could well be one of the most expensive bottles of wine I have drunk.  I bought half a dozen Rousseaux from the Wine Society for nearly £300 which compared to my average bottle price of £5 to £10, was a breathtaking purchase decision.

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