It is amazing that simply giving up alcohol (especially beer) and fried potatoes (chips, crisps etc) is enough to see me settle towards a more sensible weight. One that will give my knee ligaments a chance of survival as I occasionally pound the streets of city centre Manchester, trying to clear the smog from lungs that suffered cigarette smoke damage until 2003.

I’ve promised myself that I will re-introduce wine to my diet once I have lost half a stone. I’m already at 5lbs so things are looking promising. But I’ve just necked a Ruby Murray so tomorrow is another day on the treadmill.

Forgive the navel gazing. Normal wine service will resume soon.

The Star at Harome is just such a warming and friendly establishment but with the added bonus of being a restaurant that serves game, fish and fine wines. Oh and it has won just about every “best gastro pub” award going including, at one point, a Michelin star. It’s grouse season and I might just be in heaven. I am going to pay a celestial price too, £111 (a Nelson) plus service is more than a trifle in this part of the world.

Seated in the impossibly twee bar with ragtime jazz and opera inconveniencing the eardrums, the menu reveals my favourite game bird served in British Standard style – game chips, bread sauce, water-cress, redcurrant jelly. It being Yorkshire, a big bowl of duck fat roast potatoes and a mixed veg pan are added to the table. As a resident of God’s own county, and having been here long enough to know that Tykes rate their food primarily on quantity, I had anticipated this and exercised my right not to order a starter.

The game bird was a bit pissed off when I badgered her to chill my Fleurie (the cheapest Burgundy on the list was £54, which is a poor effort in grouse season) to drinking temperature. “I’ll put it in the fridge sir”, an ice bucket would be fine. But actually, erm, just rocks? Why is it so hard to get an ice bucket with a little aqua so it actually chills the wine?

The “young” grouse came without fuss although off the bone. I don’t think it was as well hung as one I ate at Le Café Anglais a couple of weeks ago. It was overcooked by comparison, and the duck fat roasties were not as crisp. But eating grouse looking out on the moor where it was shot adds a certain reverence and makes such preferences seem petty, especially when the shootist sat at the bar has just parked his Purdey near your table. And actually, grouse done medium has its own merits, especially in a rich gravy with whole tart redcurrants setting the saliva glands to ‘flush’.

A cheese board from the “British Isles” was extensive and impressive. Who needs French cheese? Cornish Yarg is always good in my experience, but a salty blue goat’s cheese by the name of Truckwell???? was my favourite of 4 random selections.

The 2009 Fleurie La Madone, a pretty rich £32.95 by the way, was a bit jammy, but of the redcurrant variety so went perfectly with the game. Not well matched to cheese though, so a glass of Austrian Trockenbeerenauslese (something the waiter was surprised I could pronounce) at £12.50, was the honey to the bee. Simply liquefied nectar.

A strange mix of genuine local farmers ordering a swift G &T on the way home, local ‘Lords’ desperately trying to dress in country house style, but looking more like they came from Del Boy’s manor, combined with random tourists, and a 60 year old bloke from Hampshire with his Dad, make for an eclectic but enjoyable craic. Yorkshire is a bit like France. You might not like the people but you have to love the way of life and this attracts outsiders by the coach load.

The Star at Harome is everything that’s good about Yorkshire, without the people. How did the South find out about this place?

The Star at Harome
Near Helmsley
North Yorkshire
YO62 5JE

T: +44 1439 770397
E: reservations@thestarinnatharome.co.uk
W: www.thestaratharome.co.uk

How to Drink at Christmas by Victoria Moore is a book that promises to guide you to beverage Elysium.  What to drink when, and with what, cocktail recipes (including some interesting non-alcoholic ones), which brands of champagnes and spirits you should choose, non-specific anecdotes and advice.  Tory winos will recognise the author as the Daily Telegraph wine critic. The book opens with a chapter on how to stock your drinks cabinet for the festive season. This is the only problem with giving this book as a gift.  By the time the wrapping paper is crumpled on the floor, it is too late to take the otherwise excellent advice.  £9.99 Granta.

Most winos are also foodies. If your wino friend likes Champagne, Muscadet, Picpoul de Pinet or Guinness, there is a better than evens chance they also like oysters. Knowing ones natives from ones rocks is a basic test that even those without testicular cancer will pass. But can they tell you where to eat the best oysters in London? How much of your RDA of B12 or zinc is contained within an oyster serving? Or how, in a suicidal mood, it is possible to simultaneously slash your wrists whilst shucking your molluscs. What about recipes for serving them, or (sacrilegiously) cooking them? Or simply where to buy them. The London Oyster Guide by Colin Pressdee is an invaluable bivalve companion for all shellfish afficionados. I would, however, start from the presumption that some of the restaurant reviews are sponsored. £12.99, Graffeg, or see www.londonoysterguide.com.

Did you know you can give a Wine Society Membership as a gift?  If you can afford to invest £40 of your Xmas budget on your wino friend, then this may well be the best money you ever spent.  Surely they will repay you with an odd bottle, or at least invites to their parties where you should find many a decent wine being served.  No Jacob’s Creek here. £40, The Wine Society.

Glasses are very important indeed. Not just for winos over 40, who need them simply to examine the stuff they are drinking. Georg Riedel has assumed an ethereal reputation for designing the must have wine glasses of my generation.  Riedel Vinum is the BMW of stemware and will have most winos slurping and gurgling happily. UK prices tend to be about £15 per glass which is about the price of a BMW key ring, but much better value. If you are unsure which model to buy, this post will help.

If your budget is at the other end of the scale there are many gadgetty type gifts such as corkscrews, wine thermometers etc.  One super-cheap option that caught my eye is a decanter cleaning pack.  Basically a small box of ball bearings that you swirl around your decanter to remove wine stains etc.  Just go The Wine Society website and search for “Magic Balls” (no, really!). £2.95.

Happy shopping!

For a start, I am not sure any of the attendees would define themselves as bloggers; such an old-fashioned term that covers perhaps 10% of social media these days.

It is not really a conference and struggles to find themes that blend the wide varietal of participants together, other than the ubiquitous enthusiasm for drinking wine. As one of the forefathers from 2008, I was a bit confused as to why I enjoyed the event so much and I am still not sure why I find it so compelling, having now attended all four.

I must admit that I did question, and was shocked by the defensive reaction, that the 2011 edition had attracted about 50% of its audience from outside Europe. Imagine my surprise, then, when I discovered this week that the 2012 “conference” is to be held in Turkey, which is neither politically nor geographically part of Europe (not yet, anyway).

I even hear rumours that the scope is being widened to include those that use social media to communicate about things other than wine – food for example.

All fair enough, but if it is not in Europe, attendees come from all over the world and are not exclusively focussed on wine, blogging forms only 10% of content, and it is not really a conference, don’t we have a problem with nomenclature?

As if to rub salt into the wound, the European Wooden Boat Club has stolen the acronym.

So, I propose that it should be renamed “Social Media Unconference on Taste”. But do Gabi, Rob and Ryan have the balls to turn EWBC into SMUT?

Tim Atkin and Jamie Goode have led reasoned arguments on behalf of wine writers, whilst Jim Budd is ethically fuming, if not yet fully unclothed.

I don’t consider myself a journalist since my bills are paid courtesy of a “day” job in software, but I do post my views on a public website and pass comment on wine, food and the like. So I thought I better put my size tens into the debate and share my thoughts.

Firstly in the interests of my own personal disclosure, this is dead simple. I make no money out of Confessions of a Wino. I accept no advertising. Running the site costs me less than £100 per year. I do get sent wine samples and invited to wine tastings although it is clear from my posts where this is the case. I would estimate that I buy over 90% of the wine I review, and I have paid for my meal in every restaurant I have ever written about.

But enough about me. Wider and more professional journalism is really what is on trial. The relationship between reader and writer has changed since the internet became ubiquitous. Nobody wants to pay for content any more. Once it was possible to find information about, say, fine wines, only by paying an expensive subscription to some glossy magazine or other. Nowadays, you can follow the winemaker on Twitter, and read about his wines from every Tom, Dick and Alastair online, and for free.

Where does this leave the poor journo who cannot afford to write about an expensive subject like wine, because their customer, the media, cannot afford to pay their expenses?

Advertising and independent journalism have always been uncomfortable bedfellows, and since Moses was a lad, there has been the suspicion (and indeed evidence) of backhanders, bribes and other means of influencing the opinion whose readers believed was uncompromised. But, whilst the internet has made it harder to make money out of “straight” journalism, equally it has made it more difficult to hide illicit practices. If Wikileaks doesn’t get you, The Daily Mail will.

So, if the internet has spannered traditional media, where does journalism go from here? As a reader, I still value expert opinion and good writing. Equally I do not have unlimited resources so I need to choose wisely where I spend my money and time, so I am happy to receive advice.

The idea of free samples is age old, not just for the press, but for the general public. Getting people to try your product is a fundamental principle of business – ask any marketing director. It is not bribery. You put your samples out and if the product is good, and people perceive it as fairly priced, you have a recipe for success. As if proof were needed of the importance of this, a subset of marketing, the PR industry, has made a fortune out of enhancing the chances of Joe Public trying products by enticing mainstream or specialist thought leaders to give them oxygen. Imagine how many BMWs Jeremy Clarkson has driven. Does this really influence him to write more positively about the brand? I am sure he has driven as many Vauxhalls by way of free samples, and look at his views on them. It is hard to imagine that a wine journalist can possibly have their opinion “bought” with a glass, or even a bottle of wine.

Problems arise when payments are made, or excessive gifts or hospitality are offered that are not clearly disclosed. In wine terms, reviewing a bottle of Tesco’s latest Pinot Grigio that was received as a sample, or tasted at a press event, is not worth disclosing in my opinion. Attending a gala dinner hosted by a leading wine merchant with vertical tastings of Château Latour going back to 1855 warrants a mention. But I still want the journalists that I read to attend such an event so I can enjoy it vicariously. Providing I know who paid.

You do not have to look very far to find blogs that are merely records of freebies that the author has solicited to fulfil their lifestyle aspiration. I don’t object to that as long as I know. Clearly any opinion in the article has to be taken with a pinch of salt, but the experience can nonetheless be described by the writer and appreciated by the reader.

Furthermore, whilst it is possible for a critic to evaluate the taste, quality, style, beauty, ambience, service and report the cost of something, I believe that it is wrong of reviewers and writers to comment on value unless they have felt the pain in their personal wallets. This includes restaurant critics who expense their meals to their employers.

The internet has offered us aggregated opinion. Reading more than one report of an event, a wine, a play, a restaurant is so easy my dead gran (RIP) could do it. This offers us a defence against undue influence. Easily spotted are those who regularly post sunny sentiment against the tide.

I think a bigger threat to ethics in the media is presented by the owners and how they are influenced, notably by advertisers and by politicians (where troublesome influence flows in both directions), and how this turns into editorial guidance, or the power to simply close a title down to protect the rest of the empire. But these are large, juicy worms that will not be escaping from today’s can.

At journalist level, if we want our press to remain free, in all senses of the word, the new model has to be based on a new level of trust. As long as we know how our media content is influenced and paid for, as a reader I feel mature enough and intelligent enough to make a judgement on whether I trust the opinions offered. The unpalatable alternative is that average people will be priced out of reading as the “broadsheet” media retreats to an elite, albeit more independent, niche where quality journos go largely unread.

No wonder I get so many pesky (usually trite) press releases. I ain’t getting on no airplane with these guys!

Feel free to send me more samples though.  My neighbours keep asking about the parties, and I do occasionally write up wines if they are interesting in some way.

Got no more time fo da jibba jabba.

Opentable threw up Angelus on Bathurst St.  Was it to be an homage to a great wine, or a mare?  (“Mayor” – see what I did there? Dicky daughters and all that).

Run by enthusiastic and friendly French people, the food is very Gallic, and the service is so attentive that eventually, after 16 “spams”, I had to unsubscribe from the bread basket.  I resisted the frog’s legs in favour of steak tartare which was tart (gherkin) and meaty (untainted by oven or grill).  I guess I expected the oeuf to be a raw yolk but it turned out to be a whole boiled quail’s egg which was quacking.

My main of pot au feu, with chicken and sausage and cabbage and stuffing (I’m sure it was described better than that on the menu) was amongst the juiciest, tenderest poulet I have eaten.  Dessert of glazed lemon tart with a glass of south-west France sweet wine floored me in a cow-tipping sort of way.

A long chat with the Maître D’ indicated that he probably doubles as the sommelier.  His wine knowledge was good, in parts.  I chose a 2009 Fleurie which was okay in parts, but not really quite at the same heights as many other Bojos I have tried from this vintage of the aeon.  Quite drinkable but I expect a bit more for £38.  It annoyed me a little that he swirled the wine around in the glass before presenting it to taste.  That’s my decision not his.  But I am pickier than Morecambe Bay’s finest (for the avoidance of doubt there were no cockles on the menu) so maybe you think that is OK.

The food was beautifully presented and tasty as hell, but I think they must hold the British & Commonwealth record for most tables squeezed into a small space.  I measured a wincing 4 inches (and remember I’m a bloke) as my toilet escape gap past the next table.

Apart from sitting on top of the romantic, flirty and snogging couples either side of this iPhone toting solo diner, the atmosphere is pretty amiable.  But, while I am on bugbears, how about a side plate for the crusty bread?  Or at least decrumb me before main course.

It’s funny that the better a place is, the more the minor complaints are magnified.  It is nice to have the opportunity have only the crumbs on the table to reflect on, rather than inedible leftover food on the plate.  And the wine was even SERVED AT THE RIGHT TEMPERATURE (about 12 degrees)!  Congrats from the #WART campaign.

In summary – super food, but at an exacting price.  £111.38 to be exact, for one head including service.  You pays yer money and takes yer choice.  I think I’d return for a lunchtime special, or an evening meal when it is quiet.  But there is a cluster of restaurants on this street that I am tempted to try first on value grounds.  But, if you like it cosy and your budget is less sensitive than a double glazing salesman’s patter, then you are probably already a regular.

Angelus
4, Bathurst St
London
W2 2SD
T: +44 (0)207 402 0083
E: info@angelusrestaurant.co.uk
W: www.angelusrestaurant.co.uk

But this is not just Wimbledon fortnight, it is barbecue season and for once, Thor has kept his weapon in his pants.  So take advantage of these lazy warm nights and dip your toe, your racquet, or preferably your tongue in the rose coloured water of Anjou.

I got mine from the Wine Society at £6.25 (my balcony cost considerably more even though in Manchester, and not Monaco).  And as a post script may I add that the berry fruit sweetness offers a love-all counterpoint to salty blue cheeses, of the sort you might find on Thor’s weapon.

Portugal is one country where I once had to pick a waiter up off the floor as he made a goalkeeping dive to try to prevent me from drinking red wine at an inappropriately warm temperature.  Good stuff!”

You can read André’s article here.

After a gruelling weekend, I am so tired I simply don’t have the energy to write a witty, amusing, or even anything other than perfunctory review.  However, I wanted to say something, because I enjoyed it.

The exterior reminds me more of Southport than Sloane Square.  Twee and much smaller than I imagined, especially on the inside.  FO is no TARDIS.  But, it has Gordon Ramsay as an owner, so I figured the soccer connection was appropriate.

Soup of Leek with wild garlic and (one) “oysters” would have been equally glorious without the bivalve.  My choice of a 1996 Gran Reserva Rioja at £58 was a good bed partner for both the starter and my main, Sirloin of Beef with “the usual” sides, which turned out to be broccoli, cauliflower and unfeasibly crispy and yet fluffy roast potatoes.  Mumbles has the wine at £18.49 which implies a mark-up of almost bang on the London average of ~200%.

In summary, Foxtrot Oscar is a local’s local place.  Very friendly and homely, but with West End standard service and pretty decent cooking.  The wine list is not massive but well chosen and much better priced than, say, Boxwood Café, a now demised rendition of Gordon’s empire that I visited once.  Mind you, the bogs are nowhere near the class of that Knightsbridge establishment.  I had to wait about 20 minutes for a piss, whilst a yummy mummy changed her baby (there is, apparently, insufficient room in the Ladies).

For once I won the “guess the bill” bet with Mrs Wino (but still had to pay anyway).  At £148 including 12.5% service, my estimate was only 82p out.  But then again, I drank a cocktail, a sixty quid bottle of wine, a classy Armagnac, and a doppio macchiato of Italian origin.  Pretty good value for Chelsea, and excellent value for London.

I can only assume that the place was so quiet because the local team (likely to come second or even third in the Premiership, on account of a stale draw with the home of Brown Ale) was playing while we were eating.  If not, then maybe FO will go the same way as BC?  That would be a shame.

And, for the record, I thought the Stoke fans were brilliant both during the match and in defeat.  Very noble, very supportive, very loyal.  I am sure they want me to Foxtrot Oscar but I hope they continue to thrive in the Premiership.

Foxtrot Oscar
79 Royal Hospital Road
Chelsea
London SW3 4HN
T: 020 7352 4448
W: www.gordonramsay.com/foxtrotoscar