Confessions of a Wino

It’s deep, rich, spicy, and makes the inside of your mouth feel like a souk. What’s not to like about Tempier Cabassaou?

Single varietal wines can be a bit like pedigree dogs. Beautiful, but temperamental. Domaine Tempier has whipped the Mourvèdre grape into shape and got it behaving like a lovable mongrel. Maybe that’s why it has a reputation for being a tad barking mad…

Personally, I love all the Tempiers I have tried. Hardly foaming at the mouth but, be warned, they are not cheap. This one came from the Wine Society for a whopping £39.

Many people think they improve as they get (much) older. I am afraid I couldn’t risk dying before I tried this bottle. I’m glad I managed to squeeze it through my liver before I bought the farm.

In the world of dining out, if there is one place in Manchester where you could pretend you are in London, it is on the banks of the dirty Irwell.  I say dirty in the sense that if you jumped in a canal barge and headed south you would find yourself at Old Trafford, home to a certain team that plays in red.

This is exactly what the majority of residents of the hotel were doing on Sunday 8 May.   Not all by boat.  Some chauffeured by limousine, taxi, helicopter or rickshaw.  Chelsea and United fans altogether, all up for the day from London.

But it is more than the famous and rich patronage of the hotel that is capitalesque.   The restaurant ambience, service and food bring to mind upmarket places in Notting Hill and Knightsbridge, rather than Cheetham Hill and Chorlton-cum Hardy.

The River Restaurant is styled a bit like Boxwood Café (RIP) with the atmosphere of Scott’s of Mayfair, only with more daylight flooding in, and a larger ratio of famous faces to plebs.

My choice of aperitif exposed my desire to join the elite, an aspirational effervescent bubble short of London pricing, Billecart-Salmon at £10.50.

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