Confessions of a Wino

You have to admire the Kiwis.  They took on the French at Sauvignon Blanc and won.  Then they turned their attention to the battle of the Pinot Noir.  This most fickle of grapes, like Brigitte Bardot, promises so much yet regularly delivers no more than a handkerchief full of jizz.

Realising that Burgundy Pinots have almost impenetrable reputations, New Zealand winemakers took a radical stance.  Screwcap closures combined with young drinkable zingy wines were palatable in both flavour and fashion.  This meant prices vied with Ugg Boots for the captain of the Fashion Victim Rest of the World XI, whilst production and maturation costs were relatively low.  Still innovation pays, or ought to.

The label on this wine explains that it was bottled “unfiltered”.  A better description might be “cloudy” and not in the “bay” sense.

Maybe this is just a faulty bottle.  It didn’t taste awful, but then again it fell way short of remarkable and certainly not worth the £18 The Wine Society sent a congratulatory letter of thanks to my bank manager for.

I have another bottle somewhere – I will try that and report back.

It has taken me a bit longer than I expected to start my exploration and learning of the noble Riesling grape.  You may remember my world tour of Pinot Noirs resulted in me comparing the grape to Brigitte Bardot: beguiling, sexy, temperamental, bonkers.

I have not yet drawn a metaphor for Riesling so I better get my tasting boots on and march over to Analogy Square to see whose flagpole is at full mast.  This bottle came from Virgin Wines at the noble price of £9.99.

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My world tour of Pinot Noirs was starting to look a bit like the baseball world series in reverse.  In other words I had covered almost every territory except the US.  I even likened Pinot Noir to a French actress (Brigitte Bardot – sexy, flirtatious, but unreliable, and a little bonkers) and insulted American actress, Barbra Streisand who I compared to a Chenin Blanc hmmmm….

As I stand here touching my toes, humbly awaiting transatlantic cyber-flagellation, I offer, in my defence, a review of a PN from about the most famous of US sources – Oregon.

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Peter May suggested that I get off my Pinot Noir high horse and start thinking seriously about Chenin Blanc.  But this is like asking me to trade in Brigitte Bardot for Barbra Streisand.  Whilst the latter is an interesting multi-faceted personality, a highly talented actress, and capable of singing almost any song, you just wouldn’t would you?

Meanwhile the Bardot of grapes is unreliable, sulky, difficult to master, but if you woke up next to her you would reach for your mobile and ring in sick (well in her prime, anyway, which sort of proves my point).

But perhaps I am missing Peter’s point.  The intellectual challenge of giving a winemaker a blank canvas like Chenin Blanc could create a satisfying long term relationship, rather than a one night stand with some Pinot Noir or other, that leaves one feeling, frankly, used.  Sex delivers the shortest high of all drugs, love perhaps the longest.

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Life is a box of chocolates according to Forrest Gump’s mama, which probably suits my moody temperament.  My current mood in respect of grapes is, as ever, two faced.  One old school tie, one new kid on the block (to me anyway).  I am currently on a virtual world tour of Pinot Noirs which I described as the Brigitte Bardot of grapes.  The other varietal that has piqued my interest recently is Carmenère, which is the James Dean of grapes.  A rebel without a cause that lives on the edge, smokes a lot, and whilst externally attractive, lacks substance.  Scratch under the surface, and often you will simply find more surface.

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All too recently I have learnt just how varied Pinot Noir can be.  If Burgundy is the spiritual church of Pinot, then New Zealand is surely the moonie cult.  But there are wines from Eastern Europe, USA, South America, in fact just about every wine region feels it has to have a go at this sometimes rewarding but often fickle bedfellow.  It seems that everyone loves a challenge and nobody can resist trying to pull the Brigitte Bardot of grapes.

Some of the Chilean Pinot Noirs I have tried recently are extraordinarily good, but not typical of the wines from Bourgogne.  Most commentators agree that New Zealand Pinot Noirs are hitting the stratosphere in quality terms.  I have found many of these to be interesting too, although perhaps a little nearer, in religious terms, to the Pinot cathédrale of the Côte D’Or.

This bottle of Stonewall, Forrest Estate 2005 came to me from Marlborough via a mixed case from the Sunday Times Wine Club “Pure Pinots” at £69.99 the case.  The first thing that struck me was a boring label by NZ standards.  However, the taste was far from boring.  Strawberry, macaroon, stewed blackberry and grapefruit, is a fantastic mix and this wine added a touch of vanilla ice cream too (or did I serve it too cold?).  It took time to open up though.  This is worth opening half an hour before drinking, if you can keep your sweaty mitts off it for that long.  I couldn’t.

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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