Mataro

I had decided before setting off for New Holland that M is for Mataro, as Alfred Hitchcock so nearly said, because I had been educated to believe that the variety grown and known in France as Mourvedre and in Spain as Monastrell, was treated similarly here as Mataro.

You can say what you like about Australians (no, really), but I had an experience whilst searching for this week's wine in Sydney, that I am unlikely to have had in London.

Early in the week, in fact the day of my arrival, I started my search in a bottle shop (or even more Aussie sounding 'bottle-o') in the same block as the apartment in which I had billeted called City Cellars. I asked the manager, a friendly chap named Jason, if he had any Mataro.

I learned that he had only taken over the shop a couple of months ago, that the owners were connected to McGuigan Estates (there was plenty of evidence to support this claim on the shelves), that he had worked in the USA, that he would welcome me to his Friday afternoon tastings and that he hoped I enjoyed my stay in Ostraya, wherever that is.

I also learned that he did not have any Mataro.

In most bottle shops the owners / staff were friendly enough, but most of them told me I was really looking for Mourvedre. And perhaps, in a way, I was but I wanted Mataro. (You say bananas and I say pyjamas, you might think, but I can be quite stubborn. Ask The One.)

Eventually I cracked. In 'CBD Cellars', a slightly more up-market off-license, I bought a bottle of The Black Sock Mourvedre, Magpie Estate, Barossa Valley 2009. $31.99 (~£18).

I took this to an impromptu, end-of-day, bring a bottle gathering to share with some colleagues. They all brought either white or sparkling wine, so I shared half the bottle with myself before joining a more formal gathering on the phone back to mission control.

Ninety minutes later, alone and having only had a 'cheese, wine and crisps' supper, I generously shared the other half with some more cheese. Quite a balanced diet, in some respects.

This was a very enjoyable wine. Easy drinking but interesting. 14%abv but not heavy. Oaked and slightly spicy.

Later in the week with a group of workmates I returned to City Cellars to pick up a bottle of anything that we could share (honestly) in one of our apartments. This was necessary because it is party season and every bar and restaurant within comfortable walking distance provided the type of entertainment that required its patrons to be either skilled lip readers or thirty years younger than me. Preferably both.

Now here is the thing. Not only did the manager, Jason, remember me, but he asked if I had found any Mataro. I said 'no' and he said 'because I got some in for you!' Quite impressive. I had not ordered it and not even said that I would buy it if he did get some. 

So, although I had already had one candidate M, this one is the real Wine M (2013): Kay Brothers Basket Pressed Mataro 2010, from their Amery Vineyards, McLaren Vale, South Australia. $40 (~£25). 13.5% abv.

It comes from a vineyard planted in 1890 by two brothers, Herbert & Frederick Kay (the clue is in the name), who made their first vintage in 1895.

They died a year apart in 1947-8 and their son Cuthbert 'Cud' and now their grandson Colin have maintained the family business.

I am grateful to Jason not only for the customer care, but also for picking a good one.

The back label is a masterful example of 'prove me wrong' flavour descriptions, claiming:

Blackberry, liquorice and white pepper on the nose with a briary, roast chestnut and glazed nectarine palate.

Firm gravelly tannin structure finishes this full and generous wine perfectly.

All of which is probably true, but once again I have no idea what the combination of briary, roast chestnut and glazed nectarine should taste like.

It is only three years old and I suspect it will develop further, but it already has a well-balanced and complex character and reasonably long finish.

I am tempted to set Jason the challenge of finding me next week's white N, because I am struggling. I am fairly certain that from next week we will be back to single bottles.

Loureiro

It is curious how investigating one interest can lead you to another. I have always been interested in music, of many types ranging from Baroque to Rock, via Folk, Soul, Blues and many other variants along the way.

I seem to be drawn to subjects where the more I learn, the more I realise I know almost nothing. Like wine.

The Loureiro I was looking for is a white wine grape, cultivated mostly in Northern Portugal and the Spanish region of Galicia, but the one I found first was Kiko Loureiro a Brazilian heavy metal guitarist who has since the early 1990s played with Angra. I still know almost nothing about him except that he has some undeniable talent (that you can watch by clicking on his name, above) and that he started playing at the age of 11.

I'm sure there is much more to learn about him and his music but, like some wines, my first taste wasn't sufficiently compelling for me to abandon my search for other examples that may be more suited to my palate.

Having dealt with the brazilian I continued my search and found the real object of this week's interest, the Loureiro grape, and I selected for week L (2013) Solar Das Boucas,Vinho Verde DOC 2012. Laithwaites at Vinopolis £8.99

Vinho Verde is the northern Portuguese region whose name translates to 'green wine'. This is not because of the colour of the region's wines, but because traditionally they are made to be drunk young, or 'green'. The style, therefore unsurprisingly, is fresh, light and acidic. Also characteristic is some slight fizziness to the wine, which shows itself in the glass as small bubbles clinging to the sides, and in the mouth as, well, a slight fizziness.

Loureiro means 'Laurel' or 'Bay' and the wine is said to smell of Laurel flowers. It may well do so, but I don't know what Laurel flowers smell like. If they smell like crisp green apples with a hint of orangey citrus and a lesser hint of peach, then I will agree. Because that's what this wine smells like to me.

It is light and almost colourless; the shades it does have are in the pale lemon with a very subtle something-like-green end of the spectrum. It is also light in alcohol, at 11% abv.

I enjoyed it, but a chilly November evening is probably not when this shows its best side. I can imagine it being just what is required at the start of one of what I hope will be a great many barbeques and other al fresco dining experiences next summer.

As for Kiko, I think if I was wanting to hear something like his style of guitar I would go for Joe Satriani.

Kanonkop Kadette

Plenty of K's, but none of them refer to the grape variety.

Whilst researching my options for week K (2013), considering this week needs to be red, I found myself heading back towards Hungary.  But I was torn between sticking to my preference for selecting the weekly wine on the basis of grape variety and pursuing variety of a more general nature. 

Red Ks don't seem to occur very frequently away from Hungary and, if they do, they tend to be the varieties that are used in Bull's Blood.  I used that to solve a similar problem for week E (2013).

I decided to head south and week K (2013) is Kanonkop Kadette, 2010, from Stellenbosch SA. Bought from The Savanna, Liverpool Street station, £14.99.

The major component in this week's blend is Pinotage, a South African specialty crossing that was an attempt to produce a grape with the better qualities of both its parents. The complex, delicious subtleties of Pinot Noir and the easy to grow, high yielding and more robust character of Cinsault. 

Its critics say the resulting wine can taste disappointingly like paint and I have had that experience, but Kanonkop is one of the best wineries in South Africa and has a reputation for output that beats Dulux hands down. Unless you are my friend Bob, of course, with his unusual decorating preferences. (See my 'we got both kinds' page.)

Kanonkop produce a range of blends and this Kadette is a 'second wine', a term used more frequently in France (and especially in Bordeaux) by producers to persuade the drinker that he is getting good quality at a more reasonable price than can be demanded for their top flight offering. Mouton Cadet is a reliable Bordeaux sales of which topped 15 million bottles in 2002, so perhaps the name choice hints at the intentions Kanonkop have for this wine. 

The full recipe is Pinotage 44%, Cabernet Sauvignon 41%, Merlot 9%, Cabernet Franc 6%, which means that it is slightly more than half Bordeaux blend and nearly half pure South African.

It has spent 14 months in 225l French oak (from Nevers) barriques, having been fermented in open vessels at 29 C, with the cap manually punched down daily.

It is a fairly full-bodied, dry red wine, with a surprisingly long finish and mostly 'medium' everything else; colour intensity, acid, tannin and alcohol, although the label tells me it is 14% abv . Lots of red fruits with cherry and raspberry lingering longest. I don't think this will develop much in the bottle, so it goes in the 'drink soon' section of the cellar. This is particularly appropriate for my 'cellar', as I don't have the facility to lay down anything worthwhile or the unallocated cash to buy it in the first place. Drink soon is also a personal preference

We know where the 'Kadette' name comes from and the back label helpfully explains the 'Kanonkop'. The 'Kop' part means 'hill', whereas the 'Kanon' part means,........and it is a reference to the days when a canon would be fired from the hilltop to announce the arrival of dutch trading ships into Cape Town harbour.

Jacquere

Some of my more easily beguiled acquaintances assume I must have read a lot of books, or been particularly diligent at school, simply because I often guess well in quizzes. Wrong on both counts. I like book shops, but find them daunting because there are just too many books. How do you choose? Until the invention of the Kindle, which makes it dangerously easy to buy the electronic equivalent of books, I would usually leave empty handed. I needed a method to make selection simpler.

Before learning anything about wine, I would reduce the wine selection problem by trusting the words 'appellation controllee' on the label to be a guide to reliability. It allowed me to discount a lot of bottles.

Week J (2013) is Domaine des Ardoisieres, St Pierre de Soucy, Argile Blanc 2012. From Vinoteca, Farringdon. £20.50.

                                                                                                                            The first thing I noticed about this IGP qualified wine (that's one made outside of the Appellation Controllee regulations and, therefore, considered a step down in quality) is that the capsule encasing the cork is made of wax, rather than lead or plastic.          I rather like the appearance, but have no idea if this is done for aesthetic, practical or cost reasons. The label reveals little other than the information required by EU regulations. However, a bit of investigative effort on the internet is richly rewarded.     I had chosen this wine because I had already found out enough to know that it is made from 40% Jacquere, 40% barrel fermented Chardonnay and 20% Mondeuse Blanche. I now know that the vines are 40 years old, yielding 40 hectolitres per hectare, from a vineyard of 9 hectares of which 2 are devoted to this blend. I could go on (S.Coogan, Pool Supervisor,1994), but I might just as well give credit to my source: Vine Trail . If you take a look, you will find all manner of information about the care taken from vineyard to bottle all of which is very impressive, especially of a wine alleged to be of 'lower quality'. 

So let's see if we can get the wax off and the cork out to see if all that care is justified.

First impressions are of a lively, bright, citrus lead flavour. Very mouth-watering and certainly got the appetite keen. The barrel fermented Chardonnay makes its presence felt with some softer, oak-influenced notes, but I have no knowledge of Mondeuse Blanche and can't tell comment on whether 20% is the right share of the blend. As the overall effect is very pleasing, I will accept Brice Omont, the vigneron, knows not only much more than I do but also his blending onions.

It was consumed with a chicken, mozzarella, prosciutto and sun-dried tomato affair which is much more Italian than French, but Savoie is in that general direction so that probably explains why the match was close enough.

This wine confirms that my old habit of only choosing French wines that had earned AOC status was misguided. The problem this gives me is that the number of wines needing to be tasted is now even greater, but it was an impossible task anyway, so I'll choose to see this as a good thing.

Irouleguy

Once again the grape proved too difficult, so I went back to New Street. I had done my research and found an ideal representative for the letter I. Known as the smallest vineyard in France, or the biggest in the Northern Basque country, Irouleguy has plenty to make it interesting. It is the only AOC from the region and has a wine making history going back until at least the third century.

Week I (2013) is Domaine Arretxea, Cuvee Haitza, Irouleguy, 2008. From the New Street Wine Shop £25 (although I later found it in Amathus, Leadenhall Market for £18.35)

This domaine was founded 20 years ago and the vines that provided the fruit for this wine were planted in that first year. The Haitza blend , or 'cuvee', is made from 70%  Tannat 30% Cabernet Sauvignon.

Tannat is well known as a very tannic grape variety, giving the propensity to age well, but often being quite, ahem, 'rustic'. Not so here. This bottle came from 2008 and as it was tasted around harvest time it has had five years in which to develop and soften.

It has a deep ruby colour which comes as a result of the time the juice spends in contact with the grape skins, of three to four weeks. During this period of 'maceration' the contact between juice and skins is maximised through daily process of 'punching down the cap' on a daily basis. This means that the mass of skins that floats to the top of the fermentation vessels is pushed into the liquid to ensure the colour, and the tannins that give the wine its structure, are mixed into the juice, rather than remaining separated. 

Following this maceration, the wine is aged  for 16 months on its lees (the dead yeast cells left behind at the end of fermentation) in large barrels known as Foudre, and bottled without being clarified be either fining or filtration.

It is not a wine to be drunk on its own; it has too much body and concentration of flavour for that, but it went very well with a beef stew, topped with herb dumplings and served with creamed potato which had been seasoned with a pinch of mace.

Another interesting little snippet about Tannat, in addition to the fact that it is popular in Uruguay, is that it is the only grape variety whose name is a palindrome.

Harslevelu

Back to Hungary. That's three visits in four weeks and I didn't expect that when I started. It is partly driven by the alphabet and the difficulty of finding grape varieties or appellations that match the target letter, but it is also because there are some real interesting and good value wines made there.

Another thing I didn't expect was buying the weekly wine in M&S on three occasions in the first eight weeks.
There's a more prosaic reason for this. I had decided a short while ago which grape would represent H, but I hadn't started to research possible sources. My office, where the day job makes even the simple task of choosing and tasting one wine a week difficult to arrange, is in the middle of London. There are some very good wine shops in the area (see all the weeks not mentioning M&S - more to follow), but none of them sells pre-packed sandwiches or sports socks. I needed some socks for an annual golf day and so M&S was the obvious choice for lunch. I can't walk past a wine wall anywhere without doing what I used to tell The One was essential homework for the next exam so, having picked up a pasta salad with chicken and bacon and heading for the irritating self-service checkout, I browsed. I found:


Week H (2013), Tokaji Aszu, 5 Puttonyos, 2001.  Bottled for M&S by Hilltop Neszmely. 50cl, 11.5% abv,  £22.

Many Tokaji Aszu are made with Furmint (see week F (2013)) as the major component, but this one is 70% Harslevelu, so it wasn't just the pasta and socks combo that drove the choice.

Tokaji comes in a variety of forms and the sweet ones, such as this, are made through methods unique to the region, and the words on the label reward a little consideration.

Tokaji means the wine comes from the part of north-east Hungary around the town of Tokaj. There are 27 villages in the region producing these wines, Neszemly being this one's home.

Aszu is the name given here to what the rest of the world calls Noble Rot. The berries (individual grapes) that are affected by the Botrytis Cinerea fungus, shrivel and partial dry out on the vine. The sugars in these berries are concentrated, as the water content decreases, and then the fruit is hand-picked separately from grapes that are unaffected. The Aszu berries are then ground into a paste to be added to previously fermented juices to boost the sweetness of the final wine.

Puttonyo is a hod (or bucket) use to measure out the Aszu paste. 5 Puttonyos means this wine has had five measures of paste added. Six is the maximum, so that leads us to expect that this will be a very sweet wine.

It has a wonderfully rich feel and a lovely honeyed flavour of apricots and nuttiness. Always recommended as a match with soft blue cheeses, pate or desserts, I think it is great on it's own as a treat.

Incidentally, the golf day I mentioned earlier and which lead to me finding this week's wine, turned out to be quite expensive. The night before the event I went to the local driving range to hone my skills. With only a few balls left in the bucket I hit a rather heavy shot. The head of my five iron, unattached to the rest of the club, traveled further than the ball. The professional based at the range was kind enough to suggest a repair, but also canny enough to sell me a new set of clubs, complete with bag, and a much needed lesson.

The day itself was fun, but I scored only seven Stableford points (a player performing in line with their handicap would score 36), lost at least half a dozen balls and drove a round trip of 150 miles for the pleasure.

Pass the corkscrew, please.

Garnacha

Back into more familiar territory this week. Garnacha, as it is known in Spain, is one of the handful of grapes typically referred to as 'international varieties'. This is because they crop up all over the place and have great general appeal.

Garnacha, which the French (and almost everyone else, with the exception of the Sardinians) call Grenache, is often used in a blend to add alcohol. It needs heat to ripen, but when it gets nice and warm it producers loads of sugar and, therefore, pushes the abv up to impressive levels. Oz Clarke describes Garnacha in his truly excellent book, Grapes & Wine, as 'the wild, wild woman of wine, sex on wheels and devil take the hindmost', and that's quite a reference. When I first read that I realised what a quiet life I must have lead. So far. I would have probably have blathered on about red fruits and the like, but that's why (I imagine) Mr Clarke is invited to more dinners than I've had hot, er, oh.

Anyway, this is week G (2013) and the wine is La Garnacha Salvaje del Moncayo 2011. 13.5% abv. It is a Vino de la Tierra Ribera del Queiles from Majestic, £9.99 (£7.99 each for two bottles). Another great label.


Grown on stony soils, 810 metres above sea level, the wild bush vines are 55 years old. These little nuggets are interesting because the age of the vines means that these are not over-vigorous plants producing heavy crops of flavourless fruit, but members of the older generation taking care to direct their energies efficiently. (Old bull, young bull, if you know the story.) The altitude tempers the excesses of the summer heat and gives the grapes a chance to cool at night, leading to a gentler ripening and more interesting flavours.

The vineyard at Moncayo is in the mountainous northern end of the Ebro valley, more famous as the home of Rioja.

It is a medium bodied, fresh berry type of wine that has some interesting tobacco-leaf notes and a minerality that may, or may not, come from the stony soil.

It is a good value and enjoyable wine. Majestic suggest drinking it with barbequed red meats or spicy chorizo. We drank it with lamb's liver & bacon.

In case you were wondering, the Sardinians know it as Cannonau.

Furmint

Second week in a row, an entry from Hungary. This one is produced by the Royal Tokaji Wine Company set up by Hugh Johnson, a very real expert whose bottles I am not worthy to uncork, after the fall of communism to 'bring back to international acclaim the wines of one of history's most renowned regions'. If that's what Mr Johnson, OBE, calls Tokaj, I will not argue.

I have tasted this wine before and enjoyed it very much, so my white F selection was a lot simpler than either the white D or red E.

Having declared that I am something of a fan of sweet (some would say dessert) wines, on the 'Why Late Harvest?' page, I had planned to select a Tokaji this week, but probably a delicious 5 or 6 puttonyos version. More of that in two weeks' time, when we reach H.

This wine, week F (2013) is Royal Tokaji Furmint 2011. Bought at Laithwaites shop, Vinopolis, £10.

Furmint is a variety that buds earlier than many others, but ripens later. This gives it a long growing season and allows the development of complexity and concentration of its flavours. Citrus fruits, especially oranges and lime, but also pears and ripe apples all feature in the mix. There's some smokiness, spiciness and quite a rich feel. It is naturally high in acid and that provides it an ability to age, although some say this is more relevant to its use in sweet wines.

This one is dry and I think it makes a good alternative to, and a rest from, Sauvignon Blanc, Pinot Grigio, or any of the other safe names you may choose.

Although 88% of Furmint is Hungarian, this wine has cousins from Austria, Croatia, Romania, Slovakia and Slovenia, as it seems to like growing in countries that end in 'ia'. I haven't tasted any other producer's dry Furmint, whether Hungarian or not, and would be keen to do so. It would be interesting to find out how versatile this grape really is, especially as we will meet again shortly, when it will be the minor partner in a wine I am very much looking forward to uncorking. 

Egri Bikaver

This is the second week in a row that I have had to make a selection based on something other than grape variety.

I'm less disappointed this week, as Egri Bikaver stills sounds quite exotic. Previously known as 'Bull Blood of Eger', it comes from northern Hungary and has a good legend to explain the name.

The town of Eger was under attack, so the story goes, in 1552 from the army of Suleiman the Magnificent. The defending soldiers were encouraged and fortified with good food and drink, to keep them committed to the city's defence. So much so that rumours spread among the attacking Turks of bulls blood being added to their wine. How else could the locals defend so well? So well, in fact, that the siege ended with the attackers going home.

I have no idea if any of that is true, but the wine that today bears the name is certainly robust.

This particular version, week E (2013),  is 2009 Egri Bikaver, 'Bulls Blood', Bolyki (Eger). £14.95 from Vinoteca, Farringdon.


Traditionally made from the local variety, Kadarka, it must today contain at least three of the 13 permitted varieties. This one has Kekfrankos, Merlot and Blauburgunder and weighs in at 13.5% abv.

It is dark and quite full bodied. Many describe it as 'tarry' and I can see why.

I quite enjoyed the label, too. It has a familiar image of a bull showing the cuts of meat that can usually be taken from the animal, however, instead of 'Sirloin, Rump, Topside, etc', it shows the grape varieties that can make their way into the bottle.

Simple, but imaginative, given the name of the blend.

The WSET taught me the 'systematic approach to wine tasting' (SAT) and I have been good enough not to bother you too much with this so far, but I think the time has come.

The wine is clear and bright with a deep ruby colour and a narrow watery rim. This wine has legs (and she knows how to use 'em: ZZ Top, 1985). The nose is clean. Medium intensity aromas of dark cherry, black fruits, tar, vanilla and spice. On the palate the aromas appear again, with ripe, grippy tannin and surprisingly noticeable acidity. There's oak and concentrated fruit which lingers into a long finish.

All of which means I like it. 

Durkheim Riesling

I have only got four weeks into my 52 wines in 52 weeks experiment and have had to choose a wine based not on the principle grape variety, but the producer and the area of production. It needed to be white, which is what made it hard.

I did try. There's a Greek wine from Zitsa, made with Debina. There's a Sicilian varietal Damaschino, a grape which more frequently is used as a minor component of some Marsala. I have heard of the Bulgarian Dimiat, the Hungarian Dinka, Italy's Drupeggio and South Australia's Doradillo, but could I find any? No.

I had to explain to a few wine merchants that I was looking for any of the above, only to be met with suspicion. Or pity. It was hard to be sure.

Therefore, week D (2013) is Darting Estate Durkheim Michelsberg Riesling 2012.It is a QmP rated wine from Pfalz, Germany.

The first thing to notice, after the pale lemony colour, is the petillance. This is a pretentious name for the very obvious bubbles that form on the inside of the glass. Not like those of a sparkling wine, because the bubbles don't rise. They exist due to some CO2 dissolved in the wine and that gives it a spritely, prickly feel in the mouth.

The next is that it smells mostly of crisp green apples and tastes of lemon and lime.

The grapes come from the Spielberg vineyard, allegedly the village of Bad Durkheim's best, and the warm climate there helps them to reach sufficiently high levels of sugar to produce 12.5% abv. Although it is a dry wine, or Kabinett Trocken, as the Germans might say, the dryness is disguised by the citrus fruits and the typically high acidity. Bracing, in fact. I think it would make a good aperitif.

The back label recommends eating it with a Thai green chicken curry and that, by good chance, is what The One has left me to forage this evening as she went off to do something connected to a church. So I did, as I always do (ask The One), what I was told. I also drank a bit more with some hand-cooked crisps and some tangy cheddar. All good enough.

This is my second M&S purchase in four weeks. £9.95 this time and I am unlikely to buy again, simply because there are too many letters in the alphabet to taste my way through and I expect to find wines I enjoy more.

Corvina

Nearly a year ago I was given a generous gift by some friends, who happened also to be colleagues, as I moved to a new job within the same firm.

Knowing I had a keen interest in wines they kindly gave me a gift certificate to be spent in a superb wine merchant's shop near to our office. Uncorked, by name. So I had £70 gently warming my pocket and a feeling that I had to use it wisely in respect of the generosity it represented.

I toyed with various ideas: a decanter? some great stemware? one really special bottle? Four good bottles for Christmas? I couldn't decide until one late morning not long ago, when I should have been concentrating on something else, I visited the shop's website and typed 'Recioto' into the search box. One wine was returned and a case of six 50cl bottles would cost me £69.60.

I have been looking for a supply of Recioto for quite a while and have found it hard to track down, so it seemed like just the right thing.

So this week's wine C (2013) is Adalia Recioto della Valpolicella 2008. £12.95 from Uncorked.

Made in the hills 30km North West of Verona, this Valpolicella is not the light bodied, highly acidic variety that is often found in pizza and pasta chains, but something much more interesting.

Recioto is a style of wine produced from grapes (this one is 60% Corvina, 40% Rondinella) that have been picked and allowed to dry, in this case until February, before pressing and fermentation, in order to concentrate the flavours and to enhance the natural sugar content. Because of the high sugar, it reaches 14.5% abv without fortification. It is rich, dark and sweet. Cherries and ripe dark fruits, spicy and warming. It is, to be clear, lovely.

Bourboulenc

I am at the stage when little victories bring a pleasing boost to my confidence. Having left it late last week to find my A variety,  I had done my research this week to select the B. This one had to be white, so sticking to choosing by variety was going to be a challenge; there aren't many white Bs out there.

I made my first visit to a welcoming City wine shop in New Street, called the New Street Wine Shop (natch) and was greeted by a bearded Frenchman. I asked if he had La Clape. He said he did, in that charmingly proud French way that would seem so wrong if attempted by any other nationality (except, perhaps, an Italian), and nipped up his ladder to retrieve what he thought I wanted. 

'Ah, no, actually I want the white,  please', I apologetically mumbled. I am English after all.

'I ave the white,  but it is not La Clape'. He fetched the bottle. He read the label. A ha! (A.Partridge, 1995).

So, this weeks wine B (2013) is Chateau La Negly, La Brise Marine, 2012. AOP Coteaux du Languedoc, La Clape.



The producer tells me (ok, it's on the website) that it is 70% Bourboulenc, 30% Roussanne and that it spent 3 months on its lees in a tank, and 2% of it has been aged in barrels. That's 1.4cl of my particular bottle, or about one tenth of a decent glass.

The result is excellent. This one I would buy again and at £13.75 from New Street I probably will, as long as I can fit it into my weekly schedule. I may have to ask The One if we can have another party.

It has a slightly oily, rich feel and well balanced, quite intense, apple-peach flavours. Something reminds me of Chablis, which I will put down to the producers claim of  an 'exquisite mineral note on the finish'. The finish is good as it encourages my next sip (glass).

La Clape, which is a limestone outcrop on the Mediterranean seashore, is the only appellation for white wine based on Bourboulenc. I am very happy to have found it and will try some different producers in due course, but for now this will do nicely.

Aglianico

I am not particularly familiar with Aglianico. That's partly what this 52:52 thing is all about (see above). We can discover together.

I couldn't decide where to start my vinous stroll through the alphabet and I was running out of time, so I bought the first bottle I could find made from a grape beginning with A.

This happened to be during a shopping trip to replenish my mother's wardrobe in a delicate area. Not geographically delicate, as Royal Tunbridge Wells is a much more robust place than many people mistakenly believe, but in the sense that lead to wine A (2013) coming from Marks & Spencer.

It is simply labelled, 2011 Aglianico, and modestly claims to be expertly blended by Marks & Spencer. That, and the £6.49 price tag,  probably explains why this is not the dark, tannic and full bodied version of the wine that typically gets the Taurasi or del Vulture labels. Closer inspection reveals it is from Benevento, in Campania.

It's light,  refreshing and drinkable. Unspectactular but far from unpleasant. Red fruits, light tannins and not likely to cause an uncomfortable morning. If asked to guess you would most likely say cheap Italian.

Buy again?  No, but if you bring it round to a party I will happily share it with you.