Vacqueyras

The Southern Rhone valley is a huge area of wine production with a hierarchy of regulation and naming convention that broadly equates to the quality of the product. Chateauneuf-du-Pape is it's most famous sub-division, but other sub-regions have, over the last few decades emerged as names in their own right.

You will find bottles labeled 'Cotes du Rhone', which covers almost all of the southern Rhone region, meaning that providing the grapes come from somewhere in the region the name can be used, others labeled 'Cotes du Rhone Villages' which limits the grapes to those grown in a much smaller area (about 12.5% of the bigger area) to the north and west of Chateauneuf-du-Pape, and then those from specific villages, such as Vacqueyras which was granted AOC status in 1990.

Week V (2015) Domaine de la Curniere Vacqueyras 2012. M&S £14.29

Like many of the wines produced in the southern Rhone, this Vacqueyras is loosely modeled on the Chateuaneuf-du-Pape, but the regulations stipulate that the blend of grapes used must include at least 50% Grenache. The balance is made up with Syrah and Cinsaut.

This gives us a wine with high alcohol content, as Grenache needs heat to ripen fully but then produces fruit packed with sugars that ferment to around 14.5% abv and rich ripe plum flavours that have a natural sweetness, balanced with the peppery spice that comes from the Syrah.

It is a full bodied affair and has a long,slightly warm, finish. Despite that it is reasonably easy drinking and although I can imagine it going well with a meaty dinner, it also goes well with a warm summer evening.

There's a lot to like about the Rhone valley as it falls south from Lyon, France's second largest city, through the wonderful Provence region and into the Mediterranean Sea, but it is justly famous for it food and wine. There are expensive hot spots, especially in the North, such as Cote Rotie and Hermitage for reds and Condrieu for whites, but fewer than, say, Bordeaux and Burgundy, so when looking for well made wines that offer good value for money the Rhone is an excellent place to look.

I have driven through Vacqueyras and, like its neighbouring villages, it is clear that a lot of its land is given over to the fruit of the vine and that this has been the case for a long time. There may be a theme (Grenache, Sryah, Cinsaut, Mourvedre) to the wines from all of these villages, but that recipe has stood the test of time. Can I tell you the difference between a Vacqueryas and a Gigondas? Probably not, but I would be happy with either them, or many of the others.

Uchizy

In week M (2015) I explained that, guided by my friend Gary, I have come to consider Macon Villages to be a reasonably reliable choice of region when shopping for a simple, enjoyable white wine that is something different from a New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc.

I thought it would be a good idea if this week I selected a specific Macon Villages, that is one with a village name on the bottle rather than just the more generic 'villages' which covers grapes from any of the qualifying villages, to see if there were subtle but interesting distinctions I could draw.

Week U (2015) Macon Villages Uchizy 2013. M&S £11

I appear to have painted myself into something of a corner, as the wine is very good, well made, and has a very similar profile to the more generically labelled product.

This one costs £2 more, which is still an acceptable price, but does it have enough to encourage me to pay the fare back to Uchizy?

One of the many pleasures I get from exploring the wines of the world is to stumble across interesting stories and facts associated with any of: the grapes, the locations, the winemakers, history, the weather, economics, politics, the opportunity to make weak jokes, etc. so I wondered if there was anything about the commune of Uchizy that would encourage me to buy the wine again in case a dinner guest became so dull that reciting 'interesting facts' associated with the wine might relieve the boredom. (I do appreciate that it would, most likely, only relieve the boredom for me, but under the circumstances that would be good enough.)

So here's what I found. Depending on where you find your facts, Uchizy is a small commune in the arrondissement of Macon with a population (in 2009) of 768 souls, not double counting students. This goes up and down a bit, but peaked in 2006 at 816. In 1999 there were 377 housing units, but this rose to 404 in 2007, but 36 were vacant. That's in addition to the 40 'second or occasional' homes. Makes you wonder why they were built.

One source informs me that Chardonnay, eponymous home of the grape, is 1.98km away, as the crow flies. Another source tells me it is 2.2km. The only explanation I can think of is that the wind had changed direction between the crow's first and second journeys, but I don't know whether the first was wind assisted or the second wind frustrated. Best plan on it being 2km, if you are tempted.

I also looked into 'places to visit in Uchizy', but it turns out most of them are 'somewhere else'. This probably a little harsh, as I did encounter some photographs that made the neighbourhood look very appealing. One if these was taken by A.M. Tourette, but it didn't say whether or not he's the famous one.

Right. Anyone want to come for dinner?

Tupungato

Last year my red Week M (2014) was a single varietal Malbec that I imported personally from Argentina. That may sound rather grand and imply that I had gone into the wine trade in a big way, however, sadly, that is not true. It was a single varietal and also a single bottle because that's all I could fit in my suitcase, wrapped up in two weeks' worth of dirty washing.

It was lovely, but it was also ~£20 a bottle, without UK duty. So this week I have paid half the price, including the UK duty, and selected another Malbec only this time blended with Cabernet Sauvignon, to see how close it comes to the quality of the earlier choice.

Week T (2015) Tupungato Malbec Cabernet Sauvignon, 2014. M&S £9.00

First off, Mr Marks and Mr Spencer have considerably more buying power than Mr Me and can strike a good bargain with suppliers, so that probably accounts for some of the price difference, but another significant influence on price is, I suspect, the volume produced.

The earlier wine had come straight from the cellar door, so there were no distribution costs incurred by the producer, but having toured the premises immediately before parting with my pesos I very much doubt that a bulk deal with a major UK importer aligns well with the business strategy of the family run concern that produces it.

I don't know that this week's wine is necessarily produced in high volumes, but it is bottled at Bodegas Esmeralda, one of Argentina's major exporters and I would guess they can respond well to international demand as a matter of course.

So, the wine. Rich ruby red, full of up-front blackberry fruit and supported with fine tannins and a good dollop of smooth oak. It is around 13.5% abv, which is 1% less than the earlier wine, and has a long, satisfying finish.

It is certainly a good wine of its type and if you are looking for a warm, full bodied red wine with more bite than many an easy drinking wine then you could do far worse than spend less than a tenner on this.

Would I prefer to have more bottles of the Clos de Chacras Gran Estirpe? Well, yes, I would, but that may be at least in part to the memory of having accompanied my only previous bottle on four flights with it nestling in my underwear.

Sancerre

A couple of weeks ago (Week Q (2015)) we tried a wine form the central vineyards of the Loire valley made from Sauvignon Blanc. It came from Quincy and I made a comment that it was good value compared to its famous neighbour, Sancerre.

Yet two weeks later I find myself tasting exactly that, but not for twice the price or more, as I had predicted, but for a mere £1.50 extra (although it was 'reduced' from £15.49). So let's taste it and decide whether it justifies its reduced 15% premium, or would it even stretch to the full 55%?

Week S (2015) Sancerre. Les Marennes, 2014. Waitrose £11.49.

My first impressions were that it had a very light aroma, so light I wondered if my nasal polyps were striking back, in fact. They are, but that's a different story.

It looked lovely. All bright and shiny, with gentle lemon hues. It was a nicely chilled partner for a Wimbledon evening (TV), and was sipped away while the ladies with unpronounceable names bashed away from the baseline and let fly with a variety of farmyard noises.

It was rather elegant. The Sancerre that is, not the agricultural chorus emanating from the All England Club, but had an intensity of flavour that the nose had not led me to expect. Polyps or not, there was definitely a difference. The flavours were strongly citrus, but moderated by grassy or herbal overtones.

It is quite high in acid, as a young Sauvignon Blanc should be, but like the Quincy not so in your face as the Kiwis can be.

It is made in what Waitrose seem proud to inform us is 'the appellation's only cooperative cellar', but I'm not sure what that is really intended to convey. Certainly I think this is a well made wine and I do prefer it to the Quincy, mostly because it does seem to have a slightly smoother richness about it, so perhaps knowledge of its birthplace may for some challenge the assumption that cooperative cellars necessarily produce inferior wines to those which are mis-en-bouteille au chateau, as they say.

To get back to the original question. Is it worth £1.50 more than Week Q's Quincy? Yes. Would I want to pay the 'full price'? Not really, but I might.

It has been an interesting test of my own assumptions, too, as I now no longer believe quite so clearly that famous appellations, at least this famous appellation, always expects its customers to pay more just for the name.

Ripasso

At the beginning of my explorations on Week C (2013) I selected an example of one style of Valpolicella, a red wine from the Veneto region in North-East Italy. That one was a dessert wine in the Recioto style. This week we have a dry wine, made from the same blend of grapes, but made in the Ripasso style.

Week R (2015) Ripasso di Valpolicella Classico Superiore, Waitrose £11.99

The long name of the Waitrose own brand wine tells us quite a bit about it. Firstly, it tells us that it is from Valpolicella, a wine-making region not far from Verona and the 'Classico' means it is from the traditional heart of the region and not from a more recently extended territory. The basic wines from this region are fresh, light and acidic, intended to be bottled, sold and opened soon after the grapes have been picked and the wine made. The grape varieties, for readers not inclined to go back and check, are Corvina, Molinara and Rondinella.

The next step up gives us 'Superiore' which tells us that the wine has been aged for at least one year before being released for sale and has a minimum of 12% alcohol by volume. This makes it a more full bodied and richer wine.

Richer still is the Ripasso style, but to understand that we must first consider the remaining style: Amarone.

Amarone is the Italian word for bitter, but don't let this put you off. Think of more as dry and powerful. To produce Amarone the grapes are picked and then left to partially dry on straw mats for as long as four months before being fermented and the wine produced. This is to allow the flavours and sugars in the grapes to concentrate as the water content decreases through evaporation. Once the fermentation has completed and the wine has been pressed from he grape skins, the winemaker is left with two things. A strong, fuller flavoured dry wine and a pile of skins. There's nothing unusual about this, but that is where Ripasso comes in.

More Italian to English translation: Ripasso means 'repassed'. So in this case, the Valpolicella Classico Superiore we made earlier is now repassed over the skins leftover from the making of the Amarone (and, indeed the sweet Recioto) allowing additional flavour, tannin and glycerol left in the skins to be extracted into the wine, to give us a result that fits between the standard wine and the expensive Amarone.

This Ripasso is full bodied and bursts with cherries and dark fruits. I think the Italians have got a good thing going with this range of styles. Everything from a light easy to drink wine, through richer styles to a serious red heavyweight and even rounding of with the sweet dessert wine. All good.

Quincy

It is always pleasing when one of the progeny start to take an interest in their poor old man's hobbies. My son enjoys golf and has definitely got to the point where I would be very foolish to allow him a generous handicap. Or indeed any handicap. This is very pleasing.

His younger sister is not a golfer, but does appear to be in the early stages of developing an interest in the fruit of the vine. This, I hope, is a reflection of her appreciation of the subtleties of texture and flavour that can be found in a glass and not a consequence of her career choice. She is a primary school teacher. Year two. The jury is out.

When we had a family celebration, earlier this year, of two birthdays that occur on nearly consecutive days, mine and my bonus daughter's, we enjoyed a Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand from the Dog Point winery. It was excellent, as is their Pinot Noir, so I decided to try her out a more traditional French style of Sauvignon Blanc to see if it met with equal approval.

Week Q (2015) Jean Charles Borgnat, Quincy 2013. Majestic £9.99

The short answer is that it didn't. Where the New Zealand wine is all crisp, acidic, gooseberry and elderflower, this has a gentler herbaceous character, which I like, but it isn't so familiar.

Quincy is a less well known neighbour of some much more famous names. Pouilly Fume? No? Ok, then how about Sancerre? All these three, and others such as Menetou Salon, are vineyard regions in the Central Loire valley, which is surprisingly (to me) far West in France, almost due South of Paris, and not really near the Chateau rich tourist zone of that long river's course.

So, what has this wine got in it's favour? Apart from the characteristic elderflower / cat piss aroma, it is quite light, works well as an aperitif, is not overly heady, leaves a pleasant taste in the mouth of citrus fruits and nothing feline,and, quite possibly most importantly, is about half the price of the Dog Point and possibly less than half the price of a similarly tasting wine from its most famous neighbour.

The world is awash with Sauvignon Blanc. That's not a crticism, it only got to be produced everywhere because a) it can be and b) it is very, very popular. However, this one has something that a lot of the well made, reasonably priced, predictable, usually New World, wines made form the same grape variety don't have. I'm not sure exactly what it is. Perhaps it is because it is not quite so 'zippy', but it seems to me to have a more earthy, take-me-seriously, presence to it than the identikit new(er)comers.

My daughter does not like wines that have had too much exposure to oak. This has had none, but to her palate it still had a hint of the thing that makes her dry heave like a cat with a fur ball, and she would far rather I paid twice as much for more of that delicious Dog Point. So you choose.

Puisseguin Saint-Emilion

Most of the wines I drink are either made to be drunk young, as the majority of wines are, or they are made to wait a while, but I get to them too quickly.

This week there is something of a compromise. At five and a half years old it is not anywhere near as old as the claret-that-is-too-expensive-to-drink wines favoured by collectors and the 1% of the global population who hold 48% of the global wealth, but it is not straight out of the barrel and straight down the throat, either.

Week P (2015) Chateau Moulin de Curat, Puisseguin Saint-Emilion, 2009. Majestic £9.99

Is five and a half years enough? Well, yes, I think so. It has quite a lot of blackcurrant and plum fruit flavour, but herbal and spicy notes also peep through, supported by some cedar and vanilla all of which suggests that the wine has developed beyond its infancy. There is tannin and enough of it to allow the wine to keep longer without becoming tired and uninteresting and has well-balanced acidity. It is quite alcoholic, being labelled as having 14.5% abv, and that is about as much as anyone needs (having said I recently tasted a Cannonau from Sardinia that had 15.5% on its label and although was certainly a powerful wine it was also delicious).

The village of Puisseguin is a near neighbour of Saint-Emilion, one of the more famous names from Bordeaux that can be found on the right bank of the Garonne, and is one of four that are permitted to benefit from association with its neighbour by appending the more famous name after their own by way of claiming increased kudos.

There is a general truth about Bordeaux that the wines made on the left bank have Cabernet Sauvignon as the majority grape in the blend, where those from the right bank include more Merlot. This follows that rule having 60% Merlot, 35% Cabernet Franc and only a 5% splash of Cabernet Sauvignon.

I like this wine. I think £10 for a bottle of a well made, medium bodied, classic style right bank claret is a fair deal.Yes, you can pay more for greater complexity and a greater emphasis on the leather and liquorice flavours of an older and more developed wine, but as I said at the start, this is a compromise choice and one I am very happy to have made.

Oyster Bay

No, not the Sauvignon Blanc. There's nothing wrong with that and it is very well known for a good reason; it's reliable and reasonably priced. This one carries the same brand but comes from the other half of New Zealand.

The Sauvignon Blanc comes from Marlborough, like so many similar wines, and that and area found in the North East corner of New Zealand's South Island.

This wine comes from Hawkes Bay, which is a cool climate region on the East coast of the North Island.

Week O (2015) Oyster Bay, Brut NV. Majestic £11.24

Another significant difference is, of course, the grapes used. 100% Chardonnay go into this wine and more specifically a clone of Chardonnay that produces small and intensely flavoured berries.

When Champagne is made exclusively from white grapes (being Chardonnay) it is known as blanc-de-blanc, being white wine from white grapes. So in that respect this is similar to that style of Champagne, however, there is a significant difference.

Champagne and its closest rivals made in the 'traditional method' go through two fermentations. Firstly, to produce a 'base wine' and then a second fermentation within the bottle in which it will be eventually sold. There is another technique which still has two rounds of fermentation, but the second takes place in a pressurised steel tank, allowing greater quantities to be made to sparkle with fewer  moving parts (bottles) to manage.

Oyster Bay sparkling is produced in this second way; the 'tank method' or, slightly more charmingly and French, the 'Charmat' method.

The Charmat method tends to produce wines with livelier, bigger, some would say coarser bubbles, or mousse and also with far less of a complex flavour profile. There's little of the yeasty, biscuity  flavours that I think make Champagne and Traditional method sparkling wines more interesting and enjoyable, but there is a fruit-driven freshness in the better examples.

This one has crisp white fruits, melon and some softer stone fruits, but not to the fore. The refreshing lively bubbles are accompanied by equally lively acidity, which on its own may make the experience a little tart.

As a style it falls somewhere between another tank method favourite, Prosecco, and a non-premium French Charmat, but in terms of price it is about twice as expensive as a perfectly good Cava, the Spanish traditional method offering.

It is well made and pleasant to drink, but it's not the sensible option from an economic perspective.

Negroamaro

Five years ago we visited Puglia and found it to be lovely. We stayed in a little Hobbit hole house in a style peculiar to the region, called a Trullo. It was down an unmade road, just wider than the hired Ford Kuga, had an above ground swimming pool and was surrounded by Olive trees. Donkeys lived next door.

One of the features of that holiday was discovering that in rural Puglia it is nearly impossible to buy food, certainly to buy ready to eat food, before about 9pm. Even then the locals eyed you with suspicion as they had only just woken from their naps and certainly weren't ready for dinner.

When it did come, it was generally very good, as was the wine. In memory of that holiday this week's wine comes from Puglia.

Week N (2015) Feudo Dei Tari, Negroamaro, 2013. Majestic £7.49.

I don't remember with certainty that we drank Negroamaro, but I do believe we did.

It is a local, indigenous variety (nearly, the Greeks brought it in 8,000 years ago) whose name translates to 'black and bitter'. I assume that refers to the berry before it is made into wine, because the contents of this bottle are a mid-to-deep ruby red and taste more of red fruits such as Raspberries and Cherries (with a hint of Redcurrant) than anything more aggressive.

The bottle notes speak of bitter chocolate hints and I am not yet convinced. I suspect I will have to get much more towards the flat bottom of the bottle before my imagination convinces me that either Mr Green or Mr Black has been anywhere near this one. There's a Quentin Tarantino reference in there somewhere, but I've had the wrong kind of day to waste any brain time trying to find it.

Despite the warnings from those who know better, I will tell you that this has 13% alcohol, which tonight is hitting the spot very nicely.

Majestic's tasting notes suggest that it would go very nicely with a generously topped pizza or any tasty tomato-based meat dish. I rather suspect it might, but I have come home to a quiet house (even the cat is silent, but then he's dismembered two Wood Pigeons today and at fifteen years old that's fair play) and found a half finished family bag of lightly salted Kettle Chips and some wax coated real ale and mustard flavoured cheddar cheese, wittliy labeled 'Hoppy Days' to accompany mine and that seems to work quite well, too.

At the price this is a pleasing, easy drinking, not-at-all bland, red wine that I would be happy to buy again. Would I take it to a dinner party? Only if I could be sure we were in for a generously topped pizza. And right now........

Macon Villages

Some years ago a friend, Gary, let me into his white wine buying secret. He felt he had come up with a reliable method to select a white wine that would be pleasing to drink, meet his expectations consistently and not cost too much.

His advice? Just look for the words Macon Villages on the label. Surely it can't be that simple? Macon is a town in the South of Burgundy that gives its name to the Maconnais, the surrounding district, which has a huge number of producers making 42 million bottles of white wine every year.

Ah, but wait, that's total production. The 'villages' suffix can be applied only to wines made from grapes grown in the better sites around certain named villages. This dramatically cuts the total to 16 million bottles a year. So Gary was probably on to something, but I wanted to improved the odds and chose:

Week M (2015) Louis Jadot, Les Roches Blanches, Macon Villages. 2012 Majestic £8.99

How does this improve the odds of choosing a wine I might enjoy, I hear you ask? (Oh, go on, play the game. I'm not making you read this rubbish.)

Louis Jadot does produce vast quantities of wine, but it is a business based on a long history and a reputation for quality. Buying in grapes from all across Burgundy and selling wines under their own label gives them access to, and control over, products from all levels of the Burgundian hierarchy, from Le Montrachet at the top, to supermarket favourites and everyday tipples at the other end.

This wine sits above the bottom end, but is not anywhere close to the prized and prohibitively expensive stars.

It is, like almost all white wine from the region, made exclusively with Chardonnay. The fabulous, versatile and flavoursome recent victim of the fashion police, who stupidly think that anything this popular can't be any good.

So, is it? Well yes it is. It is bright and shiny, with mid-lemon yellow hues, smells like a cockney reference to a flight of stairs and is refreshing without having the sometimes too aggressive acidity of a New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc.

I opened this one my sister and The One, both of whom commented favourably, which I hadn't necessarily expected. Perhaps in its favour is the fact that this wine has not spent any time in oak barrels and, therefore, retains a fruity freshness that some white Burgundy tempers with the softer, buttery creaminess that I like, but is perhaps the reason for the fashion police's disapproval, more fool them.

For me this wine is a reminder that whilst my explorations continue to reveal new and interesting options, sometimes the obvious and reliable is both easier and more enjoyable. This is a banker. Well done, Gary.

Lirac

What's in a name? A lot of assumptions, it appears. Why? Well, I like the general style of wines from the Rhone Valley, but that doesn't really tell you anything as there is a lot of it, made from quite a wide variety of grapes and bearing a wide range of names.

One of those names always gets a nod of approval from certain of my friends as if it guarantees a level of quality. That name is Chateauneuf-du-Pape.

Week L (2015) Domaine de Garrigues, Lirac 2012. Majestic £8.49

The wine producing Rhone region is divided into two halves; the Northern Rhone and (go on, have a guess) the Southern Rhone. It is generally agreed that the North with its steeper slopes, more obviously continental climate and its smaller sub-regions produces the higher quality wine. Much more is produced in the South, where one appellation alone produces more wine annually than the entire output of the North. That appellation? Why, Chateauneuf-du-Pape, of course.

C-du-P allows 18 different grape varieties to appear in the blend. There are a great number of producers, able to select their own preferred wine-making techniques, making a total of 15 million bottles a year.

Just over the river, on the western side, a region less than a quarter of its neighbour's size you can find Lirac, the source of this week's selection. The soil and climate are similar and only five red varieties are permitted. The net result? In my opinion, a more reliable and generally cheaper wine than produced over the river.

It has a nice deep ruby colour and is a fresh, juicy-fruity, wine that isn't jammy and has pleasantly smooth tannins and acid that makes you dribble.

The blend is Syrah, Grenache and Mourvedre. The rules require at least 40% Grenache, so that means (as the varieties have to be listed in descending order of volume) there must be a majority of Syrah, the star of the Northern Rhone.

It's not hugely complex, but it has enough going on to make it interesting. The alcohol is there, but not too prominent and the finish is long enough to give you time to appreciate what you are drinking without having to rush back for another mouthful.

I am sure that there are many wines from Chateauneuf-du-Pape that warrant my friends' approval, but I would be extremely surprised if you could buy one to equal this Lirac for £8.49.

Klein Constantia

The One and I once enjoyed a holiday along the Southern coast of South Africa. We started our trip in Cape Town and very much appreciated the scenery, hospitality, wild life, weather and the food & drink.

Most hotels could be relied upon to  stump up a complimentary bottle of Cap Classique, the local name for traditional method sparkling wine, in response to the word 'honeymoon' even if the recipients were middle-aged. Very kind.

It is in fond respect of that wonderful time that I have selected this week's wine:

Week K (2015) Klein Constantia Riesling, 2012. The Wine Society, £9.95.

I like generally like Riesling, the typically German superstar grape that suffered a bad press during the later stages of the 20th century, and I think this is in part due to it having easily recognisable character. The wines that gave all of Germany's output a bad name, in a clear example of unfair collective tar brush application, were in most cases not made from Riesling or, if they were, came from high yield (lots of fruit from each vine) vineyards and the results were thin, acidic and bland. The worst examples were also sugary sweet which was partly the fault of the drinking fashions of the UK at that time.

This Riesling is not German, as I think you may have spotted from the introduction, but comes from the vineyards around the lower slopes of  the mountains that a few miles to the North include the iconic Table Mountain.

Vines were first planted in the Cape at the same time as the English Civil War was coming to an end, in 1651, which neatly knocks on the head the idea that South Africa is part of the 'New World' in terms of wine production. The Klein Constantia winery itself has existed in various forms and combinations of estates and owners since the early 18th century.

They produce a famous dessert wine, Vin de Constance, which I will find an opportunity to include in may explorations as soon as the alphabet allows, but that one comes at a real premium price. This week's wine is by any analysis a very good value alternative example from the same producer but is not at all similar. Or sweet.

It is a lightly coloured, aromatic and appealing. It has that characteristic Riesling smell that hints at petrol (that's the word most often used, and not always favourably) and which I like. I has apples, pears and citrus flavours and a long crisp finish. It will not be everyone's cup of tea (can a wine be a cup of tea? Discuss.) but The One approved and suggested we bought some more. That can't be bad.

Jura

Week J (2015) Domaine Daniel Dugois, Cuvee Grevilliere, Jura, 2011. Vinoteca Farringdon. £17.50

In the Jura of Eastern France, lest there be any confusion with the Scottish island famous for its peaty flavoured whisky, which itself is the next door neighbour of Burgundy, there is an appellation that allows five grape varieties in its wine.

One of those varieties goes under the pretty name of Trousseau, conjuring up images of blushing brides, wedding gifts and happy days. It provides a deep cherry colour and flavours of the same, so perhaps the allusion to blushing is why it got its name.

However. Trousseau appears elsewhere under a different name. In the Iberian peninsular, particularly Portugal, it turns up again with a far less positive sobriquet. Here it is Bastardo. I'd like to tell you that this translates to something gentle or humourous, but in fact it means what you think. Why then can a grape have two such different identities?

It seems that it is fussy about where it grows, yields poorly and can drive a grower to poverty. At least that's what they say in Portugal and that could explain the one name.

As for the French name, perhaps they are simply giving in to their nationally stereotypical romanticism? I don't know, but many growers are transferring their allegiance to their neighbours' star performer; Pinot Noir, which itself has a reputation for being a bit of a challenge.

Anyway. Having read about Trousseau / Bastardo before selecting this wine, I was expecting something darker and richer that the liquid that flowed from this bottle. At first sight I was worried that it had oxydised as the colour was a lot paler than anticipated, with garnet coloured tones. It also tasted a lot lighter than I expected and so my first reaction was one of caution. It made me really strain my critical faculties in an attempt to identify a fault.

My inexpert conclusion was that the only thing this wine had suffered from was prejudice. It did have the cherry taste that I had read about and it was more interesting than simple fruit. It had a brisk acidity and soft tannin. I haven't knowingly tasted any red wine from Jura before, and certainly not one made from Trousseau, so I would be interested in trying more by way of a comparison. But enjoy the wine as I did once I had got past my suspicious tendencies I think the price will temper my enthusiasm for a swift return.

Ice Wine

You say Eiswein, I say Ice Wine, otherwise is doesn't count as an I.

At the International Wine Challenge on the last day of medals week, the panel to which I had been admitted as the associate judge finished its duties with a short flight of two wines. Both Ice Wines and both European. One silver medal, one gold.

As the medals have not yet been announced I don't know if this week's choice is a winner in the competition, or not. But is does come from the same country and of made from the same variety as the gold medalist.

Week I (2015) Ernst Triebaumer Eiswein, Rust, Burgenland. 2012. Uncorked £19.95 37.5cl.

The country in question is Austria and the grape variety its most famous and nearly unique Gruner Veltliner.

Gruner Veltliner is quite fashionable as a dry white wine, having performed well in blind comparisons with some top white Burgundies. It is tangy and herbaceous with a spicy character and ages well.

But this is not a dry wine at all. No, this little chap has somewhere around 200 g/l of residual sugar, compared to maybe 5 g/l for its dry friend. We are definitely in late harvest territory here, very late indeed. However, the makers of Ice Wines don't just leave the fruit hanging for an extended period before picking to wait for concentrated sugars and fruit ripeness, they have another trick up their sleeve.

The clue is, of course, in the name. The fruit is picked in winter, usually very early in the morning, on a day when temperatures have dropped below freezing and the grapes themselves are frozen. The fruit is crushed and the frozen water components of the juice remain in the press, resulting in a grape must with more concentrated sugars and phenolics (flavours).


The result, in this case is an inviting golden yellow with aromas of honey, peach and barley sugar. It is luscious, thick and spicy-sweet with all kinds of flavours from caramelised pineapple to light maple syrup. It has a long satisfying finish and is altogether excellent. Not cheap, but then not something you would drink every day, so worth it as an occasional treat.

As I said earlier, I don't know if this was our gold medal winner and can't find out for another couple of weeks, but I won't be surprised to find that it is. If it isn't then perhaps Herr Triebaumer would be well advised to enter the competition next year.

Hallett Vale

I had the pleasure this week of spending Friday at the Oval cricket ground where the International Wine Challenge has its home. I was acting as an associate judge on a panel of five that was led by a Master of Wine, no less, and included a Portuguese wine maker and an importer who also specialised in Portuguese wines. Care to guess what the first flight of the day comprised? Yup, red wines from Portugal. The stress that put on this particular associate with aspirations to be promoted made for an interesting start to the day.

In homage to my more experienced colleagues I have selected not a Portuguese wine, but an Australian wine made with a distinctly Portuguese grape.

Week H (2015) Hallett Vale, Touriga Nacional, Barossa Valley, 2013. Tesco £11.99

Touriga Nacional is one of the principal grapes used in the production of Port and this wine bears some similarity with that lovely drink. Port is, of course, fortified with grape spirit before the fermentation has converted all the grapes' sugar to alcohol and, as a consequence, left sweet and strong. Usually around 20% abv. This wine is dry, and a modest 13% abv. Modest, that is, in comparison both to Port and to most Australian red wines.

It is an intense ruby colour, and has a pronounced blackcurrant nose. It tastes of rich black fruits, plums and licorice, has velvety tannins, well integrated acidity and alcohol, and a full, almost chewy, body.

In some ways it is a fairly typical Australian wine, in that it is a 'big fruit' style, but the choice of grape variety makes it interesting. Australia is known for Shiraz and Cabernet Sauvignon, but there are a great many other varieties grown. Touriga Nacional is not the most common by any means, although there is perhaps a reason that it can be found.

For many years, most Australian red wine was produced in a Port style, that is, fortified and sweet. Touriga Nacional, being famous for its role in Port may have been a reliable choice to plant in the knowledge that it lends itself well to that particular style.

The winemakers at St. Hallett have been working with this variety for 35 years and that is when the boom in Australian wine production and export was getting into its stride and we should I think be grateful that they didn't grub up the Touriga in favour of planting the more fashionable and predictable grapes that soon dominated the vineyards.

My first formal class in wine tasting was led by a gentleman with a preference for Portuguese wines and Touriga Nacional featured more than once in the first few classes. So I raise my glass in thanks for his help in starting me on such an enjoyable hobby. Cheers, Mike.

Grechetto

I have been to similar events before, but this one was different. On previous occasions the premises had ceased to be operational and the sobriquet applied only historically. But this time I actually did attend a piss up in a brewery. In my professional life I have been involved in a countless number of these, but only metaphorically. This one was the real thing to celebrate a significant birthday of one of the founders' better halves. The brewery in question was Haresfoot, in Berkhamsted, with music provided by a very competent band, The Measures.

What's this got to do with this week's wine? Did I drink it at the party? Nope, it was just a great evening and I wanted to share.

Week G (2015) Grechetto, Umbria, IGT. 2013. Tesco £6.99

Coming from the centre of central Italy, Grechetto is an indigenous variety that most frequently is blended with a range of other varieties to add richness and flavour. It appears blended with Trebbiano as Orvieto, a regional wine of Umbria, which is where this one comes from, but in an unblended varietal form.

The wine is classified as IGT, standing for some Italian words meaning it is typical of the area from which it comes, but is not qualified to use a protected name (like Orvieto). As I have mumbled before to no-one in particular, this doesn't necessarily mean it is a lower quality, just it doesn't satisfy all the criteria for a more specific name.

The back label recommends drinking it as an aperitif, or with grilled chicken or seafood. I am enjoying it with a cheese and pickle sandwich and a packet of Marmite crisps. It doesn't comment on whether that would be an advised match, but it's working for me.

It has nice stone fruit flavours and the odd hint of something cirtusy, perhaps grapefruit.

It's a medium bodied type thing and has a nice 12.5% abv, is crisp without being tart and generally very enjoyable.

At the price this could easily become a reliable regular, drink it any time white wine. It has enough about it to be pleasing at almost any time and doesn't make you feel that you've done something you shouldn't. On the other hand, although I will buy it again, I won't be making a big fuss about it.

Falcon's Perch

Last week we visited, in a vinous but otherwise virtual sense, a part of Galicia in North West Spain. This week we are in a region colonised by the Spanish in the early 17th century and so it is likely that there is some historic connection between this week's Monterey and last week's Monterrei.

Our current spelling can be located in California and has throughout its history been Spanish, Mexican and American. It has been home to such notables as Robert Louis Stevenson, John Steinbeck, Clint Eastwood and, the pick of the bunch, Frank Zappa.

Our reason for visiting is that it is home to Jerry Lohr, who has been making wine in the region since the early 1970's.

Week F (2015) Falcon's Perch Pinot Noir, Monterey County. CA. 2011 Constantine Stores £17.75

I first came across the name J.Lohr as a scribbled note on a battered bible, owned by The One, and asked who it was. The answer was that The One had tasted a wine at a church house group (natch) and wanted to make a note of the name for future reference, Good call, as without this I may not have selected this wine for a recent family celebration to mark a significant birthday of the M-in-law. It is rude to discuss a lady's age so I will simply say that had Downton Abbey been a documentary she could have first appeared early in series three and would have been in the same school year as Lady Mary's daughter.

It is always something of a mixed blessing being handed the wine list at a gathering such as we had for, on the one hand, it provides the opportunity to drink something that I can be reasonably confident I will enjoy, but on the other have very little confidence that it may please others to the same degree.

On this occasion, however, I was congratulated for my selection to the point that I that I felt it necessary to remind my companions that I didn't actually make the wine myself and that the real credit should go to Mr Lohr.

Why did it receive such praise? Well, to start with it was as full and rich a Pinot Noir as I can ever remember tasting. The red fruit, cherry and floral or violet notes were all there but there was a depth to the colour and a concentration of flavours that surprised and indeed delighted. Silky and smooth it was a great wine. Now there are probably Burg-hounds out there who would have said it was getting towards jammy, but I wouldn't agree. There was a finesse to it which balanced the unexpectedly big qualities it had.

The producer's website reveals that there is a blend of 76% Pinot Noir (just enough for a US wine to declare a single varietal) and 24% Valdiguie, a variety previously believed to be Gamay, the Beaujolais grape, and this contributes some of the rich colour. The flavours are put down, at least in part to the cool growing season in 2011 which gave the fruit ample opportunity to develop fully before the harvest.

Why 'Falcon's Perch'? Well, it is named after the bird that has made it's home in the trees near to the vineyard and who does s sterling job protecting the grapes from other birds and mammals that could otherwise get there first. And we should be grateful.

Espana

Having recently relaxed my own rules governing the selection of each week's wine, so that I am (slightly) less obsessed with finding new grape varieties, I have stretched things to an almost ridiculous degree. This week E is for Spain.

Week E (2015) Pazo das Donas, Godello, DO Monterrei, 2012. Tesco £7.99

I am quite pleased with the result because in March 2014, when the wine of the week was an Albarino (guess which week), I mentioned that at a tasting I had lead on the wines of North West Spain I had included a Godello and that the universal reaction of my audience was not even remotely positive.

This had been a disappointment as I had chosen the bottle on the advice of the manager at Majestic but it didn't match his description. I think there was a lesson for me on that occasion as, with the benefit of hindsight and the removal of the pressure generated by my 'expert' status at the tasting, I recognise that it had been a bad bottle and that I should have returned it.

Why am I now confident that this was the case? Simple, this week's Godello comes much closer to matching my expectations that had been set previously. There is one difference and that is the description I was given compared the wine to a white Burgundy, from which I assumed there would be a buttery, oak influenced flavour. There isn't, but this wine does have the feel and profile of an unoaked Chardonnay, with its medium bodied, apple, pear and peachey fruit flavours. Chardonnay is so popular because it is so versatile. I don't know if Godello is equally versatile, but it competes well as a fresh, clean fruit driven, but with wet stone minerality, version. Good value, too.

There is a small percentage of another North-Western Spanish variety, Treixadura, in the blend and this is a grape that crops up in many wines of the region. It typically adds floral and citrus notes and I have to conclude either this has a very small splash, or that my palate needs sharpening.

The specific bit of NW Spain from which this wine comes is Monterrei, which can be found on the Northern Portuguese border, where there is plenty of rain (700mm) but also plenty of  long warm or even hot and dry summer days, and that's a great combination for our fruit of choice.

Good wine, good price. Good health!

Duero

Or Ribera del Duero, to be precise.

The Duero is the river that rises in the centre of a high plateau in Northern Spain and runs through a bunch of quality wine producing regions before turning all Portuguese, changing its name to Duoro and becoming the heart and home of Port. It eventually reaches the Atlantic after somewhere in the region of 600 miles. We should be grateful for the Duero/Duoro because it helps to give us a great deal of good wine and, therefore, pleasure.

Week D (2015) Ribera del Duero, DOC. Tempranillo Reserva, 2009. Tesco £8.99

Tempranillo is one of my favourite red grapes and it appears quite widely across Spain, under a variety of pseudonyms, and elsewhere too. Its name means 'early ripener', or something close to that, and because it does ripen early it can tolerate a range of climates, hanging on a bit longer if needed or being picked early if the job is done.

It likes chalky soil, which is what we have in the Ribera del Duero region, where we also have high altitude that moderates the potentially fierce daytime sun and the combination gets the best out of this thick skinned beauty. That's not to say it doesn't do well elsewhere, like Rioja, but it does like life here.

It is rich deep red, with aromas a nd flavours or dark plums, blackberries, a hint of lighter red fruit and some spice. There's a gentle vanilla oak flavour and the finish is slightly warm, which given the claimed 14% abv is unsurprising. There is enough acidity and tannin to give it a robust structure and, similarly, medium to full body.

It is a wine that goes well with a nice bit of roast lamb or, perhaps, some cheddar cheese as  long as it is the type of cheese that bites back.

As this wine is a 2009 Reserva, it has already had more ageing and time to develop than the majority of reds ever get. It is five and half years since the harvest and so many wines are either made to drink very young and would no longer feature on the wine wall at this age or they are made for cellaring and would be outside my usual budget. This habit of ageing the wines before release is one that the Spanish are very good at and I think it not only allows us to drink more interesting wine, but also provides it at a very reasonable price.

Chardonnay

I had planned in advance of my recent travels to use a little something I had in the cupboard for this week. That little something was bought in bulk, at least my version of bulk which is 6 bottles, for a party before Christmas. It won't take a genius to deduce that this was a purchase driven like most wine purchases in the UK by grape variety and price.

Week C (2015) Bouchard Grand Conseiller, Chardonnay, 2013. Tesco £5.99

As with many supermarket wine purchases, this one was marked at '50% off' implying that my price driven buy was a real bargain. I'm sure Tesco follow the rules and that it would have been possible to pay twice as much for this wine at one of their stores at some point within recent weeks, but it is most likely that the price I paid is the price that Tesco always intended I should pay.

Earlier this week the Chancellor of the Exchequer, George Osborne, tried to curry favour with his pre-election budget by, rightly, reducing the duty on beer by 1p (and, yes, I did support the Drop The Duty campaign) and on cider and spirits by 2%, but he left the duty on wine unchanged at 2.05 per bottle.

That £2.05 is charged on the wholesale, pre-vat, price. That is, what Tesco paid for it. So, take the £5.99 and remove the vat (£5.99/120*100=) gives a cost of £4,99, take off the duty (£4.99-£2.05=) and you have a starting price of £2.94.

That £2.94 includes Tesco's profit (~20%), the packaging and logistics of delivery, and all the costs of production. It boils down to the portion of the sale price dedicated to the wine itself being around 50p.

There is a nice infographic, produced by Bibendum, which is all over the internet, so I might as well share that along with everyone else:

So, there is a message here about getting what you pay for, at least up to the point where the economics of luxury or ostentatious goods kicks in, but what did my 50p's worth actually taste like?

It is well made, clean, simple, quite light. It is fruity, but not intensely so. It has good acidity and well integrated alcohol. There is a little oaky, buttery feel and a generally pleasing finish.

Would I rave about it and tell all of my friends they simply must try it? No. Would I buy another six bottles to make sure we didn't run out of a drinkable white the next time we have that kind of party? Yes, but if I came across a similar offer for another wine made by another reputable producer, which Bouchard certainly are, then I would not hold out for this.

Barossa

You would be right to observe that this week's selection has not been made on the basis of grape variety. I had hoped to find a locally grown Italian variety, as I did last week with Arneis, but try as I did I couldn't.

So today I shall be mostly drinking a wine from the Barossa Valley in South Australia.

Week B (2015) JJ Hahn, Reginald, Shiraz Cabernet, Barossa Valley, 2011. City Cellars $25 (~£12.50).

The Barossa is a region with a wine history based on the family stories of European immigrants across the last 175 years, or thereabouts, and there are a couple of family names associated with this bottle. Firstly, the Hahn family whose sixth generation still live in the original 1840's family home and grow the grapes, and then the Binder family who are relative newcomers at only 65 or so years and take care of the wine-making.

The result is a deep rich ruby red wine with intense aromas of black fruits and oak. It is a mouthful of juicy fruit and tannin with well balanced alcohol. My first impression was that the tannins were a little firm and that the oak was too prominent, but my glass has sat untouched for thirty minutes whilst I caught up with The One via Skype (other video conference facilities are available) and on returning to it I found the whole experience much softer and enjoyable.

I suspect that my evening meal of wine and Pringles (other potato based snacks....) is a recipe for a headache so I have put the bottle out of reach in an attempt to moderate my lonely consumption.

This is under something of a challenge as the apartment in which I am currently billeted is but a stone's throw from 'El Loco' bar a the Slip Inn. This place claims to be famous for being the location where a member of a Scandinavian royal family met the model who became his future bride but tonight is full of drag queens  rather than Danish princes. At least I think it is. If not, please accept my apologies, Madam. Anyway, the thing is yesterday was Sydney's Mardi Gras parade, which is a bit like London's Gay Pride but without the drizzle, and the party hasn't finished yet. Which is worse, I wonder, a few more hours of the repetitive bass 'lines' or a hangover? I will let you know.

Arneis

Once again I find myself defying gravity and hanging on to the bottom of the planet. I'm not complaining as it is still summer here, or at least it was this morning. A downpour accompanied by a few good claps of thunder seem to have temporarily put and end to that. Before it did so I took brief refuge from the heat by nipping in to a swanky Sydney department store named David Jones where they have not only air conditioning and free Wi-Fi, but also a decent wine section from which I previously bought the wine for (red) week O (2013).


Week A (2015) Chrismont La Zona, Arenis. 2012. David Jones $24.95 (~£12.50).

In the Australian state of Victoria, about 150 miles North-East of Melbourne, there sits a village named Cheshunt, named after the town in Hertfordshire which is host to the world's largest wine merchant (hint: every little helps) but does not, as far as I am aware, have any wineries.

This Cheshunt is somewhat smaller as in the 2011 census it was home to 256 residents, compared to just under 52,000, but does have a number of wineries. You choose.

One of those is Chrismont which has been producing wine for over thirty years, and they now have four ranges of wines one of which reflects the founding family's Italian heritage. That is the La Zona range and it includes wines made from indigenous Italian varieties, such as this Arneis.

Arneis comes originally from Piedmont where it is the white stable mate of Nebbiolo, the red variety responsible for that region's famous Barolo and Barbaresco, and is most notably the grape of Roero. It has a number of synonyms, including Nebbiolo Bianco, if the association needs further supporting evidence.

Its name roughly translates to 'little rascal' as it has a reputation of being difficult to grow. Partly because of that until the late 1970's it was used mostly as a blending partner to other more compliant varieties and had been at risk of dying out altogether apart from two growers who stuck with it. Piedmontese wines generally saw an increase in international interest in the 1980's as more producers adopted modern wine-making techniques and the traditional problems that frustrated consistency of quality were addressed.

This particular little rascal is a lemon yellow, and has aromas of apples, pears, peaches and something herbal. It is reasonably flavoursome with good acidity and an interesting finish that I can only describe with the over-used and suitably vague term 'mineral'. I can imagine this with spicy white meats and fish working very well.

The producer's website advises drinking lightly chilled and with good company. I am lightly chilled, but Australian television leaves something to be desired when it comes to company. I do like sport, just not all the time.

Zibibbo

I doubt that you recall, but when I was first looking for a white Z around a year ago, I could not find any Zibibbo. On that occasion I settled for a Zenit, which was nice, but this time who should come to my rescue but the now famous Tring branch of M&S Simply Food.

Week Z (2015) Zibibbo, Terre Siciliane. 2013 M&S £8.

As I noted (somewhat disparagingly I now find. Sorry) Zibibbo is the Sicilian name for Muscat of Alexandria and I wrongly believed that type of Muscat to be inferior.

This wine is a bargain.

I have discovered that eight of your English pounds buys you a happy wife, assuming that you wife likes full flavoured, aromatic, flowery and honeyed wines.

It also made me happy, but only briefly as I had made the schoolboy error (schoolboy style, I am not encouraging underage drinking. Oh, no. Not me. I never did) of only buying one bottle and opening that in the company of friends, half of whom came from the distaff side. That meant that out of chivalry I felt compelled to drink the, er, well made light and simple red wine (read 'perfectly acceptable, but mind-bendingly uninspiring') that needed to be put out of its misery and make space in my cellar (cupboard).

Made to be drunk young this is enjoyable with or without food and despite the middleweight alcohol is not to be consigned to the 'chill the buggery out of it and drink it with a picnic' list that so many inexpensive whites warrant.

I expect I may well buy a few of these to have on hand when the occasion is right or the mood strikes, but at this price and given it is intended for early drinking there's not much point in holding stock. The only risk is that it will prove as hard to find next time I want a bottle as it was when I couldn't find it last year. I'm counting on you M&S, don't let me down,

Yecla

A kind friend once brought a bottle of wine to share with us during a short stay. 'I don't really like red wine, but I do like Rioja', they said whilst generously handing over their gift.

I had heard of the fashion for people to declare their taste in white wine to be 'ABC', or anything but Chardonnay, and then stating a preference for white Burgundy (made from Chardonnay), but I had not encountered this variant on a theme. The red wine we had been given was Spanish, but not from Rioja, If it had been it would have been made from a blend of Tempranillo, Garnacha, Graciano or Mazuelo, but this was from a small region close to the central south coast called Yecla, and made from a variety known in France as Mourvedre and here as Monastrell.

The bottle in question was not the one I have selected this week, but its name also contained the word 'Roja' although it was in a more flowery script which made the spelling confusion harder to spot. The interesting thing to me is that, as with the abc crowd, our friend enjoyed the contents of the bottle more for not knowing what it was.

Week Y (2015) Tapa Roja, Old Vines Monastrell. 2013 M&S £7

Is this wine like a Rioja? Well, the wines of that region come in a variety of styles; different blends, different ages, different sub-regions and, most importantly, different producers, so it may be that there is a Rioja that tastes like this Yecla but the short and generalised answer is 'no'.

Monastrell is a grape that likes to sunbathe. It needs warmth to ripen fully and that's why it works well here, as it does in southern France.

It isn't what I would call a subtle grape and the wine made from it is robust and rustic. It is full of plums and blackberries with a hint of herby licorice. It is smoothish, but the grip of the tannin is felt in the finish (aftertaste).

The makers suggest drinking it with spicy sausages, rich curries or barbecued meats and I think that is probably good advice. This one disappeared alongside a slow cooked piece of brisket in a rich meaty gravy, my best roast tatties and some honey glazed parsnips. And something green that I can't remember but it kept The One happy.

It has quite high alcohol (14.5% according to the label and wine typists like me can't resist the labels) and that is in balance with the nature of the wine. It isn't competing with the light but complex reds that have enjoyed prolonged oak ageing. In fact, this one has not been in oak at all and given that the grapes were harvested only around fifteen months ago it could be said it hasn't really had much ageing at all, either.

At £7 per bottle this is a fairly priced, everyday wine of its type. I do like Rioja and this is not a serious contender as a substitue and that's not just because I know it's not the same thing.

Xarelo.Lo

There's more to investigating wines than simply trying those made with different grape varieties. I have chosen primarily to navigate through my voyage of discovery by aiming at a different grape each week and there have been a few that have appeared more than once during the first three alphabetic laps, but usually because they have synonyms beginning with different letters used in different regions or because I was desperate (see last week).

Xarel.lo appeared in week X (2014) as a dry table wine. It qualifies for a repeat performance not only because there aren't many white X's and not even because I couldn't find the bottle of Xynistiri that had been winking at me from the shelves in the now infamous (to the non-existent readers of this nonsense) Tring branch of M&S, but because it is here used in a different style of wine altogether.

Week X (2015) Heretat el Padruell, Brut Cava. NV. M&S £8.

Like most Cava this is made with a blend of grapes, in this case only 30% is Xarelo.lo, another 30% is Parellada and 40% Macabeo. This is not unlike Champagne, a wine with which Cava is prone to comparison, which is also, generally, made from a blend of three varieties.  This is not the only reason for the comparison as the method of production is the same, even if the Champenoise no longer tolerate their international (or indeed regional) wine-making brethren referring to their 'methode' on their labels.

The producers here have used the much more factual description of 'fermented in this bottle' which tells us that it is made by the traditional method, like Champagne, and not in a tank, like the hugely fashionable Prosecco.

One way in which Cava compares very favourably with Champagne is that for £8 we have here a lively sparkling wine with a fine mousse and a clean fruit-driven profile that would be very acceptable at most parties either as an aperitif or for a toast (oh, alright then, or all the way through a meal), whereas if we were to insist on the 'real thing' from France we would be paying twice as much for an entry level bottle.

Where this Cava doesn't compare so well is if you are fond of the yeasty, biscuity aromas that can be found in Champagne and I have to admit that I am. But to write it off for this reason would be a huge mistake. I would argue that the fashion for Prosecco is just that. I like Prosecco for what it is, but what it is is a light simple sparkling wine, usually with coarse short-lived bubbles that doesn't taste too intensely of anything, but is great for a party, especially on a warm summer's day. But if I wanted to keep a bottle of something with a fizz cold in the fridge to be opened for no better reason than the day ends in a y, then I think this will do very nicely and better than Prosecco for interest and better than Champagne for price.

Wairau Cove

When looking for a red O, for week O (2013), I resorted to Otago in the South island of New Zealand and I have gone there again in lieu of a W.

This was something of an act of desperation, as I was running out of time when I found myself in Tescos stocking up on cat food. We get through a lot of that, which is not surprising as we share our home with two cats, and also a remarkable amount of toilet rolls which we put down to sharing our house with another member of the family who is either stockpiling the stuff for when the balloon goes up or secretly insulating the cavity walls with it.

My desperation has also lead me into a corner of the wine world into which I have not knowingly ventured before, but I'll explain that in a minute.

Week W (2015) Wairau Cove, Pinot Noir 2013. Tesco £9

There's a clue on the label about this wine in that it is described as coming from Wairau Cove, South Island, New Zealand. Now, if you got to Google Maps and search for Wairau Cove (I know because I have) you are not immediately transported to the southern hemisphere but instead offered some alternatives. These alternatives are influenced by the location from which your search is conducted. In my case that's near Tring at the north-east corner of the Chilterns, so my options were: Majestic Wines in Berkhamsted, the Wine Society in Stevenage and the Oriental Express takeaway in Weybridge.

Why the hell is that, I hear you thinking? (You aren't? Hmm, curious.) Well the answer is as simple as it is obvious. Wairau Cove is not a wine growing region but a brand. The labeling of the wine as coming from South Island, New Zealand, means that the grapes that have been squished into this bottle could have originated anywhere in the lower half of their home nation.

The back label reveals more home truths. 'Imported and bottled by Kingsland, UK' and that tells us that after fermentation this wine made its way by sea all the way from the antipodes to Manchester in a 20,000 litre bag-in-box, otherwise known as a shipping container before being bottled and distributed to supermarkets.

What's wrong with that? Absolutely nothing, however, this is the previously uninvestigated corner of the wine world; 'bulk wine'. Now, from a carbon footprint perspective there is a strong argument for transporting wine without also having to transport 28,500 glass bottles but that's not the only feature of bulk wine.

Part of the charm of wine, for me, is the opportunity to investigate of all of the influences that influence what sits (usually briefly) in my glass. These grapes didn't come from a single place and so the notion of the style of the wine representing the site in which they were grown is invalidated.

Does that matter? Well, the romance of the subject is diminished, but if the drink is still as pleasing then so what? Like most Pinot Noir wines this is a pale to medium intensity ruby red wine (ok, an expensively aged Grand Cru Burgundy will have more interesting hues) with clean, fresh red fruit aromas. It tastes smooth and fruity, isn't sharp or jarring, but does have a slightly confected, almost Jelly-Baby fruit tones. It is not unpleasant.

There was a little part of me that wanted this wine, which was selected quickly without knowledge of what it was, to really challenge my preconceptions and prejudices about bulk wine which had been based only on reading rather than experiment. It didn't. I said it wasn't unpleasant, and it wasn't, but that is an example of something being damned with feint praise. It's simply not exciting in any way and that's a pity because for a drinkable Pinot Noir, £9 is a steal.

Verdicchio

Verdicchio is a name used by half a dozen Italian grapes. This one, di Matelica, sounds like it should be connected in some way to an American heavy metal band but in fact comes from the central eastern Italian region of Marche. Most of the others are better known by other names, such as Pecorino, Maceratino, etc, and this one also crops up as a number of Trebbianos including di Lugana which we encountered in week L (2014).

Week V (2015) Villa Taurini Verdicchio di Matelica. 2013. Tesco £5.99

The root of its name, Verdi, means green (you may have heard of Joe Green, the composer of romantic opera) and that gives a hint of what to expect.


There are indeed hints of green in this mostly mid-lemon yellow wine and it smells mostly of pears with some warmer, stone fruit tones.

It is dry but with a fruity sweetness and a citrus acidity that makes it refreshing and enjoyable. The first impressions I got of this wine were slightly disappointing, but that was on a cold and snowy evening. The following day, at lunchtime, I returned to the same bottle and formed a markedly different opinion as it felt richer and more flavoursome. The effect of oxygen? Maybe, I can't be sure, but it did seem somehow better.

According to the bottle it has a fairly normal 12.5% abv and this is about right as there is some body and bite to it that means it is not a thin, watery wine.

I very much enjoyed the Lugana, made from a differently named but similar variety and that was priced at more than two and a hlaf times the cost of this bottle. Was it that much better or more enjoyable? The truth is that I can't remember clearly enough to be sure. I like the Lugana and I like this, but only on returning to it after  it had been opened for nearly twenty hours.

The Lugana came from a long way to  the North whre there is a more continental climate and further from the temperature moderating influence of the Adriatic sea, so perhaps that explains the difference and why the nectarine and clementine flavours of the Lugana were not in evidence on this Verdicchio. Again, I don't know.

Would I buy this again? Yes, but as a good value, everyday or perhaps high volume party wine. If I was wanting to be safe and get something more interesting I would be tempted to pay the premium for its differently named cousin.

Ull de Llebre

I have allowed myself more than a little poetic license this week, however, I feel justified as the purpose of this blogging nonsense is to provide me with the motivation to keep exploring and learning about wine. It doesn't matter to me if you know more or less than I do, or whether you think I am mildly entertaining or completely irrelevant (if it's the latter, you should seek help because you are still reading. Yes, you are.)

Ull de Llebre is one of the many Spanish synonyms for a grape internationally known as Tempranillo. Specifically, it is the name used in the Penedes region in North East Spain, more famous for Cava, the Spanish sparkling wine that mustn't be compared to Champagne.

Tempranillo is famous as the major grape of Rioja, where it can be blended with Garnacha and Mazuelo in various proportions, and indeed this week's wine is from Rioja.

Week U (2015) Campo Viejo, Tempranillo. 2012. Tesco £8.99.

This is a well made and good value wine. It has a redcurrant and gentle vanilla spice flavour profile and cheery ruby complexion and is smoothly drinkable. I know people who consider this to be their everyday red, and I can see why.

This may not be a particularly unusual wine, but it does serve to illustrate any interesting move in the producer's marketing strategy. Historically, Rioja is a region that has a unique and, once you have understood it, clear structure for the classifications and labeling of wines produced there. The purpose of the classification hierarchy as a few advantages.

Firstly, like most naming schemes it is about quality control and ensuring all the usual types of regulations are observed: permitted grape varieties, limits of the area in which they were grown, methods of production, ageing etc, and secondly it is about protecting the name Rioja both so that producers from outside the region cannot diminish the regional brand by making inferior wines and selling them as the real thing. It also provides a means of telling consumers what to expect when they open the bottle in terms of style.

The traditional naming hierarchy which indicates style is based on the way in which the wines have been matured and start with 'vin joven', for young wines intended to be drunk early, through 'Crianza', 'Reserva' and 'Gran Reserva', which indicate the minimum length of oak-ageing in barrel and bottle ageing afterwards each style of wine has enjoyed. It follows, broadly, that the longer the ageing the better the original fruit and the higher quality and price. Wines at the upper end will have greater complexity, higher oak influence and tend to be more full-bodied and rich.

However, as with almost all 'old world' regions, one piece of information not clearly given on the label is one of the two that consumers, certainly those in UK, use to select a bottle from the dreaded wine wall. The name of the grape variety. The other piece of information is the price and that is always available unless you buy your daily tipple at auction in which case I really don't understand why you have read this far. But thanks anyway.

In 2012 Campo Viejo, a major producer in Rioja which was established in the 1950's, decided to adopt a 'new world' approach to labeling its lower-end wine and shift from the traditional to the modern. They dropped 'Crianza' and instead put 'Tempranillo' up front. This was in the belief that the Tempranillo 'brand' could do in Spain what Sauvignon Blanc brand has done in New Zealand.

Has it worked? Well, in 2014 Campo Viejo Tempranillo became the UK's most successful red wine, by value. That is to say that more money was spent on than any other red wine by UK consumers. There has been a side benefit for them , too, in that sales of their higher-end Reservas and Gran Reservas have also increased (by nearly 80% in the case of the Gran Reserva) as the Tempranillo move made the name Campo Viejo better recognised to shoppers.

It is clear that as a marketing strategy it has been hugely successful, but are we at risk of losing something here? Wine bores, like me, often enjoy the esoteric nature of wine language and the opportunity to bang on about stuff that real people don't care about, however, that is not justification enough to resist change. In fact I do see that it is a reason to embrace it. But what if in the pursuit of the market the simplification of description leads us further towards the homogenisation of the product? If a wine is no longer labeled 'Crianza' the requirement for it to rest in oak for a year is no longer enforced and the subtle variations in style the are derived from these practices may disappear, which I think would be a loss.

Txakoli

Txakoli is not a grape variety, but a type of wine made in the Basque region of North East Spain in the general area of San Sebastian. There are a few variations on the theme but this week's wine comes from one of the smallest DO areas in Spain, Gipuzkoa, and that includes a few towns, of which Getaria is one, so the DO is Getariako and its wine is a Txakolina.

Lots of complicated names, but we have ended up with:


Week T (2015) Alaia Txakoli. Getariako Txakolina DO 2013. M&S £11.99.

The grape used has another exotic sounding name; Hondarrabi Zuri. I have encountered a few different spellings of the grape's name, but this is the one chosen by the producer, Amesguren, so I'll settle on that.

It is another wine from the impressive range at the local M&S which continues to support my voyage of discovery. I'll try to catch them out sooner or later but so far they are proving tough competition.

In the area where this wine is made there is a flamboyant habit of pouring the wine into a tall tumbler from a height. I imagine this is because it has a natural sprtiz (gentle fizz / petillance) and when it hits the glass it makes an attractive mousse (if you are a wine drinker, head if you are more of a beer bibber) which gives it something of a party image.

It is a light, lively wine, relatively low in alcohol and makes a great aperitif. It is pale, slightly sparkling, smells of apples, pears and grapefruit, and tastes the same.

It is not unlike a white Portuguese Vinho Verde and this is not a bad thing. The Basque region from which it comes has around three times the minimum rainfall required for grapes (at ~1500mm per year) which is approximately the same as Northern Portugal, so the comparison may partly explained by this, even if the varieties concerned are completely different.

I think that next time I try this I will also attempt the high-altitude serving technique at some suitable event, which would probably benefit from some warm summer sun.

Saperavi

As promised, we have stayed in Georgia to sample another indigenous variety, Saperavi. This one is red and a direct translation of its name is 'paint' or 'dye' (sounds like a threat that might have been issued by a less than charitable Pope, perhaps a Borgia, to a reluctant portrait artist) because of the depth of its colour.

The South African speciality grape, Pinotage, is sometimes criticised for tasting like paint, so i am hoping in Saperavi's case it is purely down to the appearance rather than the flavour.

Week S (2015) Chateau Mukhrani Saperavi, 2012. M&S £9.49.

Sure enough, this is a ruby/purple wine which clings to the glass a bit and just about lives up to the claims made for the depth of colour.

It doesn't smell of paint, which is a good thing, but instead gives a definite red cherry smell, with a slight vanilla spice. It has some flowery type tones which could be Violets or similar.

It tastes much the same with some Raspberry thrown in for good measure. It reminds me of a Cabernet Franc and this could be either because that's what it tastes like or because I haven't tasted enough Cabernet Francs.

It is another one of those 'easy-drinking', soft, fruity reds, but it does have some gentle tannins which are smooth and well integrated, and enough acidity to avoid the 'flabby' criticism. The producer claims 13%, but I have recently read some pretty clear advice about how accurate the numbers on bottle can be and why I shouldn't mention it.

Last week we tasted the white stable mate of this wine and found ourselves a little underwhelmed. This week, for the price, the same is true. Absolutely nothing wrong with it, but just a bit forgettable.


I am sure I will return to sample more wines from Georgia, but they will have to wait their turn.