Mainente

The clocks went back last night and tomorrow we can sit in the garden and have a glass or two with friends. I have a tee time booked and the forecast is good. Is this a false dawn? I do hope not, but while the sun shines hay shall be made.

As it feels like Spring we are in luck that this week demands a white wine that can be chilled and sipped in the garden after a hard day's toil shovelling soil, compost and bark chips from the front of the house to the back. We were not in so much luck to be doing the shovelling, but it did work up a thirst.

Week M (2021) Vigna Cegnelle, Corte Mainente 2018. ~£10

I can't be sure about the cost of this week's wine as it came to me as one sixth of my reward for answering a few questions about my thoughts on old vine wines. (Previously mentioned, and if you know when please feel free to claim your prize in the comments section below.) All six bottles were from Soave, but from different producers. This is the first I have tried and it was carefully selected because the producer's name begins with the appropriate letter.

It doesn't matter how it was selected to anyone other than me, so let's talk about what the contents of the bottle actually taste like. It is a clear, bright, lemon yellow of medium intensity. On the nose there is more than a hint of ripe pear and some floral tones that give it a nice lift.

It is fruity, tasting of stone fruits such as peach and green plums. There is enough acid to make the mouth water, has a pleasing smoothness and some minerality in the finish.

The grape blend is 90% Garganega with the remaining 10% being Trebbiano di Soave. Trebbiano has many clones which are frequently named for the area in which they grow. Soave is near to Verona in the north-east of the country so is some sense is a stable mate of Valpolicella and all its variants most of which have featured in these notes at some point since September 2013.

Would I buy this again? If I knew where to get it and my price estimate is about right, yes. More importantly it makes me look forward to uncorking the other five Soaves that arrived with it and to see what the other producers can do with the same grapes.

It will be Easter next weekend, so expect something to go with a leg of lamb.

LBW

In life generally, I try to challenge my own innate prejudices and keep as open a mind as I can. I have to admit this is not always as open as it could be but I do try. I am not sure it is particularly healthy but I am one of those probably irritating people who instinctively checks electronically anything I am told, or read, that doesn't sound unshakably correct. This week, having checked that the name on the bottle was indeed referring to the famous cricketer and charity fundraiser, I was amused enough by the opportunity to title a post 'Ian' that I overcame my prejudice against celebrity wines and bought:

Week L (2015) Botham 80 Series Cabernet Sauvignon 2018. Tesco £11.

Sir Ian Botham has had a passion for wine for 40 years, it says on the bottle. Probably true, but I know people who have a passion for cricket but who would be unlikely to match this knight's performance in 1980 after which his 80 series wine is branded (a century with the bat and taking 10 wickets in one match, since you asked). That is to say having a passion for something doesn't necessarily make you any good at it. You should hear me play the banjo if you have any doubts.

Having now tasted the bottle to exhaustion I can confirm that this is a wine made by someone with both passion and skill. How much direct involvement Sir Ian has had I have no idea, but he has stuck his name on a very enjoyable bottle.

It is another of those big, bold fruit-driven wines, with high alcohol and plenty of tannin. It would certainly keep for a few years and quite probably mellow into something less, er 'Beefy'.

Not much more to say, other than it comes from Coonawarra in South Australia, but it does make me want to sample more of the Botham wines. Buy again? Why not.

Oh, incidentally, you may have noticed that above I wrote that I wanted to title this post 'Ian', it being Week I (2021), but in fact went for LBW. This is because whilst out shopping and keeping an eye open for next week's white I realised I had forgotten how the alphabet works and that I had already passed I a little while ago. This is week L (2021).  Ho hum.

Kent

The county of my birth and still home to my progeny and grand-progeny, if such an expression may be used. It was just under a week ago that we made a day trip back to the old county to meet No1 Grandson in person for the first time (socially distanced and in a public place, of course). A lovely day and a cause for celebration. He is a beautiful baby and with his parents is part of a lovely young family. Very proud.

Good things come from Kent, or so I have always believed. I have often referred to Kent as 'God's own Garden', which I consider to be a more appropriate soubriquet than merely 'Garden of England'. In either case it is a splendid garden and it in are grown all manner of excellent fruits. Apples have, of course, always been grown there and the county has long been associated with the production of hops. Are they a fruit? So that's beer and cider taken care of. As the south of England becomes warmer (not getting into the arguments about why that is) and grape growing technology and expertise continues to develop, Kent has also become a noteworthy region for the production of wines grapes.

The soils in the Weald of Kent and especially those of the North and South Downs that border it are similar to those of Northern France. We all know what come from Northern France. Yes, ok, but I wasn't thinking about cheese on this particular occasion. I was thinking about excellent Chardonnay based wines, like Chablis, Champagne and, er.....

Week K (2021) Balfour Chardonnay Ortega, Hush Heath Estate 2019. M&S £13

At least, I think it's 2019. It doesn't actually say so on the bottle as far as I can see, but neither can I find any reference to it being a non-vintage blend.

Hush Heath Estate lies near Staplehurst, famous for being the third stop beyond Tonbridge on the mainline to Dover which can be inconveniently visited after a night out in London during one's professional youth, and also one stop short of Headcorn where in 1981 I established a dinner table claim for having taken off in an aeroplane six times in my life, but having only landed in one twice. 

The estate itself sits just north of the High Weald AONB on the clay soils lying between the abovementioned Downs and has been producing wine for two decades, collecting quite a few awards along the way. Much of it is sparkling, using the classic Champagne grapes, but this week's selection is a still wine. It is a blend of Chardonnay and Ortega, a grape I have not previously encountered. Ortega is a crossing of German origin between Muller-Thurgau and Siegerrebe, both themselves crossings of other varieties including Riesling and Gewurtztraminer so it should perhaps offer some aromatic possibilities. 

On first tasting I was impressed by the intensity of flavour and by the ripeness of the fruit. It had a full body and a slightly spicy finish. I liked it. When I went back for a second glass the sweetness seemed to have increased and I was less sure about the balance, however, I manfully pressed on and decided that there was something akin to the flavours of Muscat that I rather liked. Leaving it alone for twenty-four hours or more I found on my return that it went down rather nicely with an episode or two of The Disappearance, a troubling French whodunnit which kept us guessing (correctly) until the final few minutes. The One tasted it and reacted as if she had just had an unexpected sherbet lemon, which surprised me as I hadn't noticed particularly high acidity.

All in, I think this is an interesting wine and a good example of the full-flavoured whites that are now capable of being produced in the South of England. Would I buy again? Probably.

Jip Jip Rocks

Branding is a funny thing. Or should I say, my mind is a strange place? After seven and a half years I find that I still need to follow some form of rules to help me select a wine of the week. I doubt anyone has read much of this blog and indeed being read was never its primary purpose. Its primary purpose was to be written in order to give me an incentive to keep trying and considering different wines, from as many places and producers as is reasonable. I know from experience, and as evidenced by the sometimes very lengthy gaps between posts, that if I let this discipline slide and I get out of routine then I lose touch with why I started in the first place. 

Week J (2021) Jip Jip Rocks Shirzaz. Padthaway 2019. Waitrose £11.99

What is the significance of this selection, given this week's opening paragraph, I hear no-one other than me ask? It is because that I went out expecting to buy a bottle of Julienas (I did once know how to insert the acute accent), the Beajoulais Cru made from Gamay, but couldn't find any. I like to rely on a formal appellation name on those occasions when I can't find a wine made from a grape whose name begins with the week's letter. It was as I scanned the www (that's Waitrose Wine Wall, not the other thing) feeling slightly disappointed that mentally I caught sight of myself in my internal mirror. What a strange man, I thought. 

If J can be for Julienas, why not Jip Jip Rocks? Julieans is after all just a French village and Jip Jip Rocks, according to the back label on the bottle, are 'a striking outcrop of 350 million year old pink-red granite, which are sacred in Aboriginal beliefs', which feels rather more worthy. In any case (despite Waitrose offering 25% discount on purchases of six or more bottles costing more than £5, I didn't buy a case), whatever tenuous connection there may be between the letter of the week and the wine of the week it is not important. The final selection of the bottle is of less significance than the search for it, and it is that is the purpose I set myself. Village names are brands, based on location amongst other things, and this wine is branded with a location. One that I suspect has little to do with the wine itself, but it has helped me choose a wine from Padthaway and I have not done that before. So well done me.

Having got all of that nonsense of my chest, let's find out what this wine is actually like. There are several regions in South Australia that have a reputation for producing great wines based on particular grapes: Clare Valley Riesling, Coonawarra Cabernet Sauvignon, Barossa Shiraz, all being famous examples. Padthaway is a reasonably close neighbour to Coonawarra, in the Limestone Coast region which is further south of Adelaide than many of the well-known vineyards, and like it's neighbour has a reputation for both reds from Cabernet Sauvignon and Shiraz and also great whites from Chardonnay. More than half of the vineyards in Padthaway are given over to red grapes and there is about 50% more Shiraz than Cabernet, making it about a third of all the fruit grown.

I don't claim to have particularly strong blind tasting skills, but if you had asked me to taste this and then told me it was a Shiraz from South Australia I would not have fallen off my chair in surprise. It is intensely flavoured with black fruits and peppery spices, has enough acidity to stop the fruit being jammy, smooth but noticeable tannin and well-integrated alcohol even at 14.5%.  It is packaged in a big heavy bottle, which is something of questionable merit in these more eco-sensitive days, that gives the impression that the wine could reasonably spend a few years allowing the fruit, alcohol, tannin and acid to work some magic. I'll never know if that is a correct assumption as half of it has already gone and the other half would be well advised to get its affairs in order.

Would I buy again? Yes, because this gives the impression that the winemaker knows exactly how it will end up and if the occasion calls for a big well-priced Shiraz I would trust that's what I would get.

Italian White - Pinot Grigio

Flexing my wine selection rules once again as my shopping opportunities were limited and the alphabet thing is only really there to keep me looking for something to try. Anything, really.

I remember, with some shame, how back in 2012 when the man who had been recruited to fill permanently the job in which I been acting on a temporary basis for the preceding year suggested we should select the house Pinot Grigio, as we first found ourselves entertaining the team for whom responsibility was being transferred, and I felt this showed he was going to be a 'lowest common denominator' type of boss, and that this would somehow enhance my legacy. I was partly right.

I have since come to appreciate that not all Pinot Grigio is non-descript white plonk, so:

Week I (2021) The Society's Pinot Grigio 2018. The Wine Society £8.50 

Pinot Grigio is also known as Pinot Gris in some parts of the world and I do remember tasting St Clair Pioneer Block Pinot Gris, from New Zealand, and being astounded by how rich and tropical it was.  That wine, and others I have tasted from Alsace, is probably an unfair benchmark for the grape generally, but for the price this one puts up a good show.

The Wine Society is of course a long-standing and reliable co-operative society that exists to provide its members with good quality wines from right across the price ranges. Their 'own brand' range of 'The Society's....' wines are made exclusively for the society by established producers. In this case, the Pinot Grigio, the producer is Alpha Zeta who are based in the hills around Verona in North-Eastern Italy. Alpha Zeta have been making wines since the end of the 20th Century, having been created by a New Zealand winemaker, Matt Thomson.

This one is very pleasant. A only £8.50 a bottle it represents great value and is a good example of  why prejudice about any grape variety is a stupid thing. It is more than moderately intense in its flavours, which include both citrus and floral tones, both of them remaining on the palate for a pleasing amount of time. It is quite dry but not in a sharp way and feels quite full possibly because of the 13% abv.

This bottle accompanied a game of Scrabble, the fourth in succession I have lost to The One, which itself preceded a lunch of an excellent white onion soup that made a comfortable partner to the wine. It was finished off with a peanut and cheese cracker collation in front of episode 2 of Bloodlands. It fitted the bill very nicely over its three outings.

I once stayed in the hotel used in Bloodlands as the kidnap location where a man with a certain past was held. A remarkable place which had also been used as the location for Hotel Splendide, a film with reviews as diverse as 'Oddball, Quirky Good Fun' to 'I have never before truly HATED a movie, but this cycnical nightmare......etc'.  Guinness can be delivered quite slowly all throughout the island of Ireland, but this place probably holds some kind of record. Watch the film and if you are ever near Newcastle pop in for a pint and a long wait.

Oh, would I buy again? Yes.

Hedonist

I like the idea of a wine called the Hedonist, especially at present when the nearest I get to hedonism is drinking the wine. We are expecting to hear from the government tomorrow on when any kind of social activity may once again be permitted without the need for intermediary technology. In my family February is a month of post Christmas celebration, including as it does Valentine's Day, at least two birthdays and a wedding anniversary, and this year there has been an addition to the family who I would dearly love to meet before he starts school, so I hope the news is good.

Until we know when normal life beckons I will continue to enjoy what can be enjoyed which this week:

Week H (2021) The Hedonist Shiraz 2018. £14.49 Waitrose. 

I learn from the producer's website that the grapes for this wine were harvested almost exactly three years ago on 18th Feb 2018. For various reasons that I won't type out just for the sake of it and you can read here they describe the vintage as 'standout'. 

Various portions of the juice spent a year in different sized oak fermenters before the final blend was assembled. Blend in this case means the mixing the same juice that had been treated differently, rather than putting together the juice from a number of different grape varieties.

The result is certainly enjoyable. The bottle has a little sticker proudly displaying the Gold Medal from the Decanter Wine Awards. I'm not always persuaded that wine competitions are a reliable barometer of a wine's quality, especially at the lower levels where there is a suspicion that just turning up and not being faulty gets a Bronze, but this one seems well-deserved.

It is a full bodied, smooth feeling and well-structured wine, bursting with the kind of fruit you should expect from South Australia without being jammy and unbalanced. There is some acidity to match the fruit, the tannin is smooth and the flavour profile is not just all kinds of black and purple berries, but also has some spices and liquorice hints. It packs a punch at 14% and went very nicely with the slow-cooked Ox cheeks, which I suspect I have mentioned before.

I bought this on the same day as some Italian Primitivo that a friend recommended as a bargain being sold by Aldi at £4.99 a bottle. It was a good call as that turned out to be a very easily drinkable red, even if it was a little one dimensional. This was three times the price and worth it but I probably shouldn't get into the habit on those days when I just fancy a glass of TV wine.

I have tried this wine at least once before. That was back in 2013 when I presented it as part of a 'wines of South Australia' tasting for a U3A group in North London. They liked it, too.  I liked them and hope that they are all still sipping away despite the pandemic and look forward to seeing them again one day.

Buy again? Yes.

Garnacha Blanca

If February has ides, then these are they. Nothing to fear other than the continuation of the recent cold snap and the threat of slippery doorsteps. I forked out £8.99 on 25kg of Rock Salt on the basis that the Beast from the East was about to reappear, courtesy of Storm Darcy, but although we did have an attractive covering of snow and temperatures down to -7℃, I still have 25kg of the stuff, should you need any.

Not really white wine weather, however, according to my own rules which only I am allowed to break, this week requires a white grape and as on this occasion I have found one whose name begins with the letter of the week we will try:

Week G (2021) Jordi Miro Garnacha Blanca, 2018. M&S £9.

Garnacha Blanca, or as the French say Grenache Blanc (or the English, White Grenache) is one of Spain's less widely known varieties. There is as much of it in South West France as thee is in Eastern Spain where it can appear in Priorat and Rioja amongst other regions.

In France it also can be part of the blends of white Chateauneuf-du-Pape (yes, it can be white) and Cotes du Rhone, and also in the sweet Vin Doux Naturel of Rivesaltes in Roussillon.

It is naturally low in acidity, has a tendency to oxidise easily which can lead to off-flavours such as an undesirable Sherry-like tang, but can provide softness in blend.

This wine is a single variety wine and so the grapes used are 100% Garnacha Blanca. It has a slightly oily mouth-feel and my instant reaction was 'ho-hum'. I first tried it alongside a quite creamy turkey, ham and mushroom pie and that may not have given it the greatest opportunity to show its best face. A wine with more acidity would have cut through the texture of the sauce a given a better balance.

I came back to the second half of the bottle twice over the following two days. The third showing was its best, when it accompanied nothing more epicurean than the remnants of a sharing sized bag of honey roast peanuts and an episode of Mastermind. On that occasion I noticed the reasonably lengthy finish that had some rather appealing tropical fruit notes. It is labeled at 13.5% abv and this with the mouthfeel ruled out the possibility of it being described as light, but I wouldn't call it rich.

I suspect it would have impressed a little more had I tried it in the summer. Not a bad wine, but neither a memorable one. Would I buy it again? No, because it doesn't stand out from the crowd of £9 wines sufficiently well to make itself special.

Did I ever tell you about how I failed the second round audition for Mastermind? (Apparently, yes, in August 2015. Apologies for banging on about it.)

Fusion

No, not a blend of Jazz and Funk, or even something clever with sub-atomic particles, but a fusion nonetheless. I have just checked back through my wines of the week and find I have sampled 144 wines to date and none of them has been from Margaret River, Western Australia. I find this very surprising as it is a region which, to my tastes, produces a consistent high quality and often good value output.

Week F (2021) Xanadu Fusion, Margaret River 2018. M&S £12.

Xanadu is not a winery I have previously come across, but they have an interesting history and plenty of awards to boot.  Started by an Irish immigrant doctor in the late 1970s and later bought by the family behind the wines of Yering Sation in the Yarra Valley, whose Pinot Noir is a particular favourite. 

What is curious is that their website makes no mention, that I can find, of this particular wine. I did wonder if they had discontinued this wine but further investigation reveals it can be bought in Woolworths, just not the erstwhile UK purveyor of pick-and-mix, but the Aussie supermarket that remains very hail and undoubtedly hearty, so perhaps it's just bottled for those outlets rather than direct sales.

I had assumed that Fusion probably referred to a Bordeaux blend of grapes but on reading the back label find it is attributed to wine being the fusion of environment and people, art and science, time and place, and this wine being a blend of all of these elements.

This a slightly romantic bit of marketing guff, but the label needs to be filled with something. Unless of course you are old-school French in which case it might just shrug. Either way, it is a delicious, full-bodied fruit and spice mix with firm but ripe tannins and quite an alcoholic punch at 14.5%, according to the label.

It is quite typical of Cabernet Sauvignon from Margaret River and that is, for me, a good thing. I have fairly frequently bought Vasse Felix's Filius bottling and this compares well to that with the added advantage of being a tiny bit cheaper.

Will I buy it again? Yes.

Errazuriz

A little over six years ago The One and I set off for a holiday in Argentina. The bonus child had been there for a post-university tour of some bits of South America and decided we would love Buenos Aires. So, being obedient older people, off we went. Our trip started and ended in the Argentinian capital as we had been directed but we did our best to see as much of that enormous country as we possibly could in two weeks. At one point, whilst based in Mendoza, we took a trip into the Andes on a road that if we had gone far enough would have taken us over a pass near the highest mountain in the Americas, Aconcagua.

Week E (2021) Errazuriz Aconcagua Costa Sauvignon Blanc 2020. £11.99 Waitrose.

Whilst the mountain itself is in Argentina it is just nine miles from the border with Chile where, on the western side of the Andes there is a series of valleys that flow down to the Pacific ocean. In terms of wine production more than a dozen of these valleys contribute to Chile's reputation for supporting a wide range of styles, frequently available in UK at very reasonable prices for the quality they offer.

Aconcagua Valley is towards the North of Chile, so it is closer to the equator than most and the climate there is warmer than that of the regions to the South. This warmth is moderated by the influence of coastal air currents that cool the valleys giving an advantageous mix of warm days and cooler nights that helps to ripen grapes to their best.

I enjoy Sauvignon Blanc and in general tend to favour the styles produced in the southern hemisphere, especially New Zealand. The famous French styles of Sauvignon Blanc are rightly respected as classic wines with names such as Sancerre and Pouilly Fume commanding a premium, but I find their more earthy profiles less engaging than the crispness of their new world challengers.

This wine falls rather nicely between the two, being less punchy than many wines from Marlborough and having some of the more complex flavours of the Loire, without leaving me with the impression that it has lost any of the qualities of either. Especially for the price.

Errazuriz have been producing wine since 1870 and have eight vineyards in the Aconcagua Valley. Aconcagua Costa is, as the name suggests, close to the Pacific coast which is only seven miles away. Here they also grow Chardonnay, Pinot Noir, Merlot and Syrah, but in other sites include a broad range of varieties.

I once attended a short seminar presented by Errazuriz at the London (International) Wine Fair and was very impressed with both their wines and their commitment to the environment which judging by the results is well founded.

Would I buy again? Yes. Ideally from the cellar door!

Dolcetto D'Alba

Being something of a big kid at heart I had been watching the well-informed local weather forecasts provided by Chiltern Weather Alerts (search on Facebook for their page if you are from these parts) in the last week because we were being promised, with increasing confidence, that we would get to enjoy some snow. The Chilterns always offer great walking opportunities but at this time of year when the trees are bare of leaves a good covering of snow makes the whole place look like Narnia.

In preparation for the long had winter we took ourselves off to King's Farm Shop who are a first rate butchers near to the World's End (no, really, look it up). Whilst spending more on a few bits and pieces than we did for the whole of our Christmas lunch I spotted this on a shelf near the pie counter:

Week D (2021) Emilio Vada Dolcetto d'Alba DOC 2018. King's Farm Shop £21.95

The young chap who was busy selling me a couple of pots of Wild Boar pate (French, naturellement) and a delicious cheese, leek and bacon quiche, advised me that if my meat bill came to more than £50 the wine would be reduced by a fiver. This was not a problem. The two fillet steaks we had already chosen got us halfway there and the Ox cheeks and short ribs finished the job nicely.

I have had mixed success with Dolcetto and just under seven years ago I chose it as the wine of Week D (2014) where I found it a had some volatile acidity that spoiled my enjoyment. I won't retype my typings any further here, but if your are inexplicably interested you can click on the link and have a butchers. (Quite pleased with that bit.)

I am happy to report that the snow arrived and our trip to Narnia was hugely enjoyable as we shared it with a couple of very good friends. This was, of course, executed with the greatest care and respect for the conditions set by our leaders to help us survive the plague. This sharpened the appetite nicely and the fillet steaks, pan-fried in garlic butter, topped with mushrooms and served with braised red cabbage and mange-tout was a treat. No potatoes again, but you can't have everything because it's not good for you. Says Nanny.

The wine was, I thought, very pleasant. The first taste was very North Italy, being relatively light-bodied and fragrant, but left me wondering if my long-forgotten experience should have been remembered at the point of purchase. Not because of any volatile acidity but because in a way that is slightly reminiscent of my recently described history with Barolo as I had been expecting something a little more richly fruity. The One didn't accept the offer of a top-up, and that suggests it didn't hit the spot for her, however, my second taste was alongside a mouthful of that beautifully cooked (you're welcome) fillet and my concerns evaporated.  The bottle outlasted the meal and so I enjoyed the rest with some charcuterie and an episode of a Swedish murder series set near the Ice Hotel where The One and I spent a very enjoyable sixth wedding anniversary. Small world.

Would I buy again? Probably not. There are styles I prefer more for the price.

Chablis

The weather has not been too kind of late and this, together with the mixed news about the current Coronavirus pandemic, where numbers of infections, hospitalisations and deaths continue to increase, but where programmes of vaccinations are gathering pace, and the more severe restrictions on recreation which are keeping golf courses closed, are making January this year pretty challenging.

There is a balance to strike between staying mentally strong and using the opportunities afforded by almost unlimited time at home to take care of tasks usually found to be uninviting, or using that time to indulge in the pleasures that are often denied through commitments to people, place and time such as eating drinking and trying to be merry.

Not wanting to turn an interest in and enjoyment of wine into a dull-minded habit, or worse, I am trying to be selective about my consumption and strike that elusive balance. This has influenced me more towards brown spirits as my evening treat, as I find a small glass of malt whisk(e)y or a drop of Armagnac is more easily taken in the singular (albeit an approximate double measure), but a nice bottle of wine once opened has an irresistible allure. 

This week's selection came in gift form as part of a complementing pair, its red partner being an Haut Cote de Beaune as yet unsampled, from a generous sibling and is a good example of a bottle that called me back until it could call no more.

Week C (2021) Domaine du Colombier, Chablis, 2018. £18.95 Winedirect.

 Made from the 100% Chardonnay, that versatile and universally popular grape variety, Chablis is famous throughout the world as a region responsible for one of the greatest dry white wines. Whilst Chardonnay can produce a wide range of flavours, with its fruit flavours becoming more tropical as the vineyards are closer to the equator from both directions, Chablis is typically described as being steely, mineral, crisp and exciting. I found that to be true with this bottle. There was a hint of apple with some warmer peach-like tones and perhaps some citrus flavours in the end, but none of the ripe pineapple type flavours or buttery feel that styles from warmer regions provide.

We opened it to accompany a meal made from the inevitable left over Christmas turkey, but most of it disappeared aperitif style later in the evening, by which I mean without food unless you count the peanuts.

The wine had been aged for 18 months before release and I think it was ready to drink. Had it been from the higher tiers of the Burgundian hierarchy, such as Premier or Grand Cru, then leaving it a little longer may have rewarded the patience, but I think this was made to be enjoyed whilst young and fresh. And indeed it was.

When I buy white Burgundy I tend to choose wines from the Macon sub-region mostly because I find them to be reliably enjoyable and also good value for money, but it is nice to have been reminded through this kind gift that pushing the boat out a little can be worthwhile, but perhaps best kept for those times when the wine will be drunk to be appreciated. Wines whose principal role will be to take the dull edge off the interminable searching through Netflix to find something more uplifting than infidelity or murder, can be selected from the less expensive shelves.

Will I buy again? This style, yes. Chablis, definitely. This particular wine only if its in front of me when I decide its time.

Beronia

I find it hard to believe that I haven't included this week's wine before now. Although I like to explore wines and find new things to try, I do have a few favoured 'go to' bottles that I buy regularly because sometimes I like to know exactly what I am getting.

So this is one of those:

Week B (2021) Beronia Rioja Reserva 2014. Waitrose £15.99  

Back in 2012 I had the pleasure to work in London with a team of five Australians, throughout the UK summer. I had worked with an Australian during an English summer once before, in the late 1970s / early 1980s, and remember her asking if it always fell on a Monday?  Ha, bloody ha.  But these ladies and gentlemen were different. When it came to the time for them to return home I asked one of them how he had enjoyed his time in London and he said 'Ah, look, it wasn't as bad as I had expected', which is unsurprising when you consider that the five of them would arrive in the office every Friday morning with a carry-on sized bag and a booking to wherever in Europe they were intending to spend the weekend. Indeed, a couple of them made it to New York on one occasion and others covered the map from Reykjavik to Warsaw and Oslo to Naples during their time 'working in London'. Have to admire their free-spirited approach to life, especially as it was all on expenses. I suppose if you live on a remote desert island, albeit a big one, the opportunity to see some culture that is more than 200 years old must be compelling. There is a little of the Mr Pot-Kettle here, as I did try to make the most of the spare time I had when it was my turn to visit. I was just not ever lucky enough to have more than a three week, rather than a five-month, trip. Usually two, and one of them included an afternoon stay in the Melbourne airport medical centre, but that's a different story.

The reason for mentioning any of this is that it was through one of these itinerants that I was introduced to this week's wine, for which I remain grateful. It was an introduction of convenience as he and his partner had been staying in an apartment close to the office throughout their stay and on the day of leaving had to leave things as they found them. As they hadn't find them stocked with drink, they had two bottles too many to drink on their last evening and so these were brought to the office and given to me and my cellmate to choose one each. I chose well. I can't remember what Mr Grumpy got.

Rioja is the famous wine from North East Spain, where they have admirable tradition of not releasing their wine to the market before they are ready to drink. The wines of Rioja are classified according to their age and the amount of time they have spent in both oak barrels and bottles. This one is a Reserva, meaning it has spent at least 12 months maturing in oak barrels and at least six months in the bottle. It also must be three years old, so it will have spent more than at least one of those minimums and probably both, aging in a combination of containers.

The wine is lush, with a fruity juiciness, a deep purple colour and flavours of that fruit together with some coconut notes from the oak and leathery tones from the aging. The tanins are there, but in just the right intensity to balance well with the fruit. 

It is made with a blend of Tempranillo (95%), Graciano (4%) and Mazuelo (1%). The minor contributors are in small quantities, but the blender must know what he's doing because the results speak for themselves.

I will buy this again. And again.

Australian Fizz

Here we go, then. Happy New Year 2021!

It was a quiet New Year's Eve. We had a game of Bridge, over the internet, and then settled down in front of the TV. I had to awaken The One just before midnight whilst Jools led us through an enjoyable, if unusual, Hootenanny but the nap had done it's work and we were able to toast the arrival of 2021 with:

Week A (2021) Bird in Hand Sparkling Pinot Noir. Waitrose £15.99

I bought this in the hope that it may be better than Prosecco but cheaper than an unnecessarily over-priced Champagne. I expected it to be drinkable which it was, but very pleased to find it to be much better by far. I have had Champagnes that were nowhere near as good as this.

Being 100% Pinot Noir and the juice obviously having had some skin contact, it has a nice, gentle pinky tinge. This is backed up by some equally pink fruit flavours like strawberry and raspberry and delivered with a delicate mousse. There is a hint of the autolytic flavours such as brioche and fresh croissant, which I really like, and a crisp but not sharp finish.

It is made in South Australia in the Adelaide Hills region, from fruit grown in vineyards planted in 1997 by Andrew Nugent on what had been a dairy farm. Given that the first three years' fruit can't be used, there must have only been twenty or so harvests from the site and it shows great skill that a wine this good has been developed in that relatively short time.

I recently found myself being quizzed about my views on wines from 'old vines' and whether they justify a special place in the wine world. Whilst I am attracted to the romantic side of wines, the stories that can be told about them and the histories to which they are attached, I am old enough myself to be a little cautious when it comes to the claims that are made because of such things. That is, if an old vine wine really tastes different, in a way that some would enjoy and others not, then I see the value. But if what comes out of the bottle is either of poor quality or is indistinguishable from younger or more familiar vines, then I am less interested. This wine is from relatively young vines, probably approaching their prime, and for the price I think it is just right. If I had paid more for a wine with more history attached it would have to have delivered a markedly more pleasurable experience to justify its selection.

I will buy more of this.

.

Happy Christmas 2020

 Happy Christmas, one and all!

Just in case this is the only historical record recovered by some future generation, you should know that 2020 has been an unusual year. However, I am not prepared to allow it to become the third year since I started this little blog to have no entries at all. I have added the bread and cheese pages this year, but wine is where I started and I am determined (yet again) to re-establish a habit of exploration and comment. Unless there is a radical change it is likely I will have enough time on my hands to get back into the swi(n)g of my little project, given that the Covid-19 pandemic looks set to continue into a second year despite the recent start of the vaccination programmes. Enough of that.

Weeks 1-52 (2020) Tesco Finest Barolo 2011. £17 for the current wine.

I have had this one in the cupboard for at least four years, so I can't remember what I paid for it at the time. It may even have been a present which, if that was the case, is greatly appreciated.

Usually, when I drink Barolo I find it to be an enjoyable experience, but it is all too rare an occurrence. I think this is because of an earlier experience, between 15 and 20 years ago, when I bought a bottle along with a small baguette and some pate on the way home from the station to make a light supper. That's a polite way of saying 'to have something to eat whilst drinking an entire bottle of wine in front of the television', which was something of a habit during a less than satisfactory period in my personal life. My education in wine had not started at that point, but I must have been sufficiently aware of wine to know that Barolo could be special, otherwise I would have picked up the supermarket red with the best discount. I remember wanting a big, rich juicy-fruit type of wine that would be easy to drink and that would wash down the fatty pate and leave me ready for bed. I think I must  have tasted some Barolo somewhere previously, and enjoyed it, but my recollection of why was obviously unreliable. The wine I had was very dry, had astringent tannins (not a phrase I would have understood at the time) and was high in acidity. I was most disappointed and I am not sure I even drank much of it. I think it was this bad selection, made in not unreasonable ignorance, that has left its mark and made me unreasonably timid about the wine.

As this year Christmas lunch was an intimate affair just for me and The One, who is not a keen wine-bibber, I thought I would put to the test the advice that I have read quite widely that Barolo makes a good partner for a turkey and sprout blow out. I took the precaution of decanting the contents of the bottle (using the ornate decanting funnel given to me by generous friends earlier this year to mark a significant birthday) a few hours before what became a late afternoon meal, and although I did not taste it both pre- and post-decantation and so cannot be sure, I think this was a beneficial approach.

I thought it was lovely. The One didn't, for reasons not dissimilar to those matching my historic disappointment, but even on a good day red wines of most types are not really her thing. It had the acidity to cut through the phenomenally luscious gravy, the restrained tannins to prop up the turkey and stuffing and the complexity to compete with and complement everything else. I didn't finish the bottle with the meal, even if it would have been more acceptable on Christmas Day than on a school night, but saved about half of it for Ron. (Later, Ron.)

When I returned to it on what was probably Boxing Day, I think I enjoyed it even more. The meal was much the same as the previous day, given that a 4 kilo turkey is a bit more than two of us could devour in one go, so it was either the extra time it had spent in the decanter or, more likely, something about my taste buds / demeanour / expectations / weather / what was on the telly, that made the difference. 

Labelled as Tesco Finest this wine was made by Cantine Ascheri Giacomo, a great producer who is based in Bra, Piedmont, where in September 2019 with some friends we visited the International Cheese Festival. But that's another story.

Gewurztraminer

Two Tesco Finests in a row? Surely a record.

Last week we had the robust red Faugeres and this week something completely different, to quote a strong developmental influence from my teenaged years.

Week G (2019) Tesco Finest Gewurztraminer, 2017. Tesco £9.00

Straight out of the fridge on a pleasant evening, my immediate observations were: 1) The One will enjoy this and 2) this is dangerously easy to drink.

I was right on both counts. Described on the bottle as 'exotic and fruity' I think it lives up to the billing. I would add off-dry as a defining characteristic and could be persuaded that it is sweeter than that. The fruit flavours are towards tropical, lychees usually get a mention, and there are floral notes, too. Turkish delight and roses are also frequently cited by other drinkers and I wouldn't object to them being listed here, however it is not the most richly complex Gewurztraminer to have passed these lips. Then again, it is far from the most expensive to have done so (there was a great bottle from Zind-Humbrecht's Clos Windsbuhl consumed on a beach restaurant in Mauritius that claims both of those awards).

The general advice for Gewurztraminer is that it should accompany something lightly spiced, such as Thai food, as it itself has some spicy flavours (everyone at this point has to explain that Gewurz translates as spicy) but we consumed the bottle's contents with nothing spicier than the most recent episode of Line of Duty and a few crisps, but it did the job very well indeed.

By the end of the last glass I was beginning to feel that the residual sugar content was a little more than it needed to be and perhaps the Chardonnay from Week E (2019) would have had the tension required to balance Detective Superintendent Hasting's predicament or that a bowl of Tom Yum Gai would have been preferable to the crisps so I will look forward to testing at least the second of these hypotheses at some point in the future.

Eden Valley

Having not been to Australia for two years now I have felt the odd moment of loss. Not pining for the job that took me there, that is happily consigned to history, but the privilege of visiting that big sunny island on a fairly frequent basis was one of the more enjoyable perks.

I have only visited South Australia once (so far...) and did manage to squeeze in some winery visits in McLaren Vale and the Adelaide Hills, but didn't have time to go further south. If I had then I would certainly included the Barossa Valley and its close neighbours of the Clare and Eden Valleys.

It is the latter of these from which comes:

Week E (2019) Hill Smith Chardonnay, Eden Valley 2018. Waitrose £8.99

Hill-Smith Family Wines have an impressive history stretching back 170 years and they are truly one of the pioneering families of Australian wine. Have a read here.

Yalumba (the first winery established by Sam Smith in 1849) wines have been a favourite of mine for a number of years and you will find examples in earlier episodes of my exploration should you have the inexplicable urge to investigate. One particular favourite is Yalumba Organic Viognier which I think is a great return on a few quid.

This Hill-Smith wine is a Chardonnay and is a good example of the restrained style that is produced with care in a cooler climate region, compared with the fruit-heavy and more oaky styles that UK drinkers no longer favour.

The fermentation was driven by wild yeasts, rather than those grown and selected for the purpose, and 40% of the wine was fermented in French oak barrels ranging from new (16%) to three years old. The remaining 60% of the blend was fermented and matured in stainless steel. The winemaker says this combination gives the best balance between vibrant fresh fruit flavours and the weight and texture influenced by the oak.

I was quite surprised how fresh this tasted, even though it is only just over a year sine the grapes were picked, and enjoyed the greater complexity that comes through in the finish. It doesn't feel like a 13.5% abv wine and has medium/light qualities that make it perfect for either a warm summer's evening or alongside a nice creamy chicken supper.

The flavours are not as intense as the Viognier referred to earlier, but at £9 (I think this was an 'offer' price) it is a very pleasing choice.

Delica

We find ourselves in the land of the rising sun and a little challenged when trying to keep things up-to-date. Not only because the technology has been limited to a mobile phone, but also because wine does not feature highly in the dining rooms of Japan. It is available but it felt wrong, even to an enthusiast such as yours truly, to diverge from the local dining practices.

One evening, however, over the card table rather than the dining table we did find a compromise:

Week D (2019) Delica, Vin de France, ¥640.

This is a basic French wine that can be bought in one of many, many convenience stores which are open 24 hours a day for the approximate equivalent price of £4.35. It is a compromise because you may just be able to read the name 'Suntory' towards the bottom of the label, revealing that this wine has been produced and bottled in France at the behest of one of the largest drinks companies in Japan. So not Japanese wine in the sense that it comes from that country, but Japanese by ownership. The actual makers are Castel Freres who produce 640 million bottles of wine in a good year, over half of which never leaves the country.

Being labelled 'Vin de France' means that it has not been produced under particularly demanding or stringently enforced rules, but has been made with grapes grown anywhere in France. In this case the fruit all comes from the South-Western part of the country, otherwise known as Languedoc.

The varieties could be any but are in fact Grenache and Carignan which are stalwarts of this and many other regions.

The wine was surprisingly enjoyable for the price; easy-drinking and the ideal accompaniment to a game of Bolivia. Do try.

Not much more to write home about expect that this reminded me of times not long past when £4.35 would buy something drinkable in the UK. Not so now, as with UK duties and VAT even if all of other elements of the cost were unchanged, this would be priced at around £7 at home and that would make it less of a bargain.

It's ok and I am glad we found something with a Japanese connection, but it is little more than a means to keep my game on the rails.

Cortese

I like Italian wines. I like how complicated they all are and that there is so much to investigate and forget. And learn again.

I may have mentioned, and you will not have read, that we are off to Bra later this year for the bi-annual Cheese Festival, (The One can hardly wait) and I fully expect to learn and forget a lot about cheese before, during and after the festival, but I am certainly looking forward to visiting Piedmont as it is the home of some great wine villages and regions, including, among many, Barolo, Barbarseco, and Gavi. And the last of these is where we find:

Week C (2019) La Monetta Gavi di Gavi, 2014. Waitrose £12.79.

Piedmont, for those without an atlas and having no intention to use Google any more than is completely necessary, is in the North-West of Italy and its name translates roughly to 'the foot of the mountain' giving us a clue that we are in a hilly region. Grapes like hills as they assist with soil drainage and allow the fruit to get good exposure to the sun. Gavi itself is in the South of Piedmont in the province of Alessandria and South-East of Turin, so perhaps not the hilliest of hilly bits but we will find out.

The fruit in this case is 100% Cortese, a grape known for retaining good levels of acidity, even in the hot summers enjoyed in its homeland. It smells citrussy, being a bit more lime than lemon and has some other sharp fruit flavours. I am told greengages taste a bit like this, but I wouldn't know.

It has a medium body and this matches the fruity acidity rather well, in my uninvited opinion.

A couple of years ago I bought a few bottles of this as the white option alongside the Cotes du Rhone red to be drunk at a dinner in honour of a good friend's significant birthday. I think it was well received by those who preferred the paler plonk and no-one complained. At least, not about the wine. Not many complained even about the enforced poetry writing I inflicted on the assembled company. I did this because I had been invited to conduct a tasting as part of the festivities and had been concerned that those present may not be enthused by listening to a self-confessed wine bore banging on about tannin, balance, malolactic whatevers, etc.,  and I had recently read and enjoyed an excellent book by Michael J. Gelb entitled 'Wine Drinking for Inspired Thinking', from which I stole the idea of a new symposium. Have a look.

Bekaa

This one was a gift from some generous colleagues when I moved on from having a proper job. I was accompanied by two more, which at this point remain in the 'cellar' (cupboard).

If you mention Lebanese wine to many people they often respond with something close to 'oh, Chateau Musar?' as they are one of the better known an more prominent producers from the region. With good reason, too.

But, no. This week we will drink:

Week B (2019) Domaine des Tourelles, 2014. ~£15 (but it was a gift.....)

My research tells me that this wine was previously made from 100% Cinsault, a grape from the South of France that has had a less than glowing reputation in the past but has more recently been increasing in popularity. It was known as producing high yields of poor quality fruit which would be the major source of juice for bulk wines and some for blending.

In this bottle, the producer has not relied entirely on Cinsault and, in fact, has used only 15% of it alongside Cabernet Sauvignon and Syrah, at 40% each, and a 5% splash of Carignan.

All of these grapes have a French heritage, as does most modern viticulture in the Bekaa Valley, which is not to say that without the French there would be no Lebanese wine. Wine has been produced here for around 7,000 years and that is pretty much as long as it has been produced anywhere and much longer than anyone has been using the term French.

The Domaine itself has been producing wine for 150 years, having been established by a Frenchman named Francois-Eugene Brun in 1868, and that makes it one of Lebanon's oldest. The last of the Brun's passed away in 2003 but the winery was taken on by two Lebanese families of Issa and Issa el-Khoury who have brought update practices to bear.

So, what's it like? It is a deep ruby colour, smells of black fruit and Morello cherries and tastes much the same with a hint of spice. It feels medium plus body and has quite an alcoholic punch, being labelled at 14% abv. There are noticeable tannins, balanced nicely with acidity and the all-round experience is very pleasing.

As with Week Z (2019), two weeks ago, this has been fermented and aged in concrete vats, suggesting that modern, trendy(?) methods are as at home in the Levant as they are in Argentina. I still can't say with confidence that I can taste any evidence of that technique, but I do like the result and am grateful for the kind gift.

Assyrtiko

Welcome to lap six of the alphabet of exploration. There was a time when I didn't think we would get this far, but it helped taking a three year breather.

Delighted to have found this week's wine as it has had the effect that I had hoped all of them would have, which is that it has encouraged me to investigate not only its major grape, but also two others of which I had never heard or even read.

Week A (2019) Atlantis Assyrtiko, Santorini, 2017. M&S £12.

Santorini features on our long list of places still to be visited and, therefore, this is not a wine that carries happy memories of warm summer evenings overlooking the Aegean. Perhaps one day. Last year we did enjoy some lovely warm evenings overlooking the Ionian sea and drinking a variety of local wines some of which may have travelled well to be enjoyed again at home and others that didn't even travel very well from the supermarket to the villa, which was all of seven kilometers. But that is the fun of wine exploration, even if my holiday companions didn't see it that way.

This has travelled well, it seems. Assyrtiko is the famous grape from Santorini and is known for producing 'steely, mineral wines' (just google any review and those words will appear) and I have encountered this before. In this bottle it accounts for 90% of the contents and, under EU rules which will apply for a minimum of 23 more days, that qualifies the wine to be labeled as a single varietal wine, but the producers provide the names of the other two contributors who share the remaining 10% equally.

Delightfully, both of these additional blending partners have names beginning with A and, added to the wine's brand name, that gives us five A's in one wine. Very pleasing. The first additional A is Athiri, described in the excellent Wine Grapes book as being easy to grow and producing fresh, fruity, lemony, crowd-pleasing wines with soft acidity and moderate alcohol. The second is Aidani, described as being thick-skinned, lower in acidity and alcohol that Assyrtiko and adding floral qualities to a blend. Neither of them is often the star of the show and both are more frequently found, as here, blended with Assyrtiko.

I like Sauvignon Blanc and sometimes there are examples that underline why that grape has become such an international success, but I also like to find wines that are, perhaps, less well known and can provide a good challenge to the reigning champions. This does that, as it has all of the bright acidity of a Sauvignon but also provides the complexity that comes from the floral and mineral flavours for which the credit, apparently, goes to the minor players in this Greek delight.

Zorzal ZZ

There have been a few ornithological associations with wines listed in these pages and today we have another. This is not the reason for its selection and I didn't discover the connection until I was trying to find out anything of interest about the producers, but turns out that Zorzal is the Spanish name for the Song Thrush. A bit like Merlot being the French for Blackbird.  Unlike the Merlot, Zorzal also translates as 'dupe' or 'mug' (as in stupid person) and even as 'ingenious', so take your pick.

I like to think it has been chosen for the last of these three translations and I will explain in minute. For now, let me introduce:

Week Z (2019) Zorzal ZZ, Tunpungato, Argentina. 2017. M&S £9.50.

It is now a couple of weeks over eleven years since The One and I moved into our family home and we are very fond of the place. We chose it for a number of reasons, one of which was that it was a little unusual. It had been designed as a small, modern 'farmhouse' using well-thought out use of natural light and one particular material that would have been quite on-trend and the very start of the 1960's. (A very significant moment in history for personal reasons, too.)

The material in question is concrete. Something of an acquired taste architecturally as evidenced by comments from well-meaning friends when they first examined our choice of home. For example, 'do you think they left all this showing because they ran out of funds?' and 'are you going to plaster over all the unfinished bits?' No and no. It's brutalism in a domestic context; go and read about it.....sigh.

Anyway, concrete may not be the first material that comes to mind when you think of winemaking, but it does play a significant role in this case. The winemakers at Zorzal, the Michelini brothers, have chosen not to ferment their juice in either oak barrels nor stainless steel vats, but in concrete / cement 'eggs'. The brothers are pioneers in the use of this technology amongst their South American vinicultural community and seem to be proud of that fact. The use of concrete eggs, based on ancient amphora, is first credited to Michel Chapoutier in the Rhone valley and has since been adopted by winemakers across the globe, especially the trendier ones. It seems that the egg shape allows more of the developing wine to be kept in contact with the dead yeast cells and that the natural convection currents generated by the act of fermentation as it heats up the wine provide an automatic 'battonage' effect, which is where under more traditional methods the winemaker would stir the lees to assist with the development of complexity and texture in the wine. In addition to this the insulating properties of concrete help to maintain a stable temperature for fermentation without the need for expensive cooling systems. It also allows just the right amount of oxygen to permeate the egg and help the wine soften tannins and develop complexity.

The Zorzal winery was established in 2007 and has 70 hectares of mixed soil types 4,500 feet up in the Andean foothills, which makes this the highest vineyard area in Mendoza. Here they grow Pinot Noir and Sauvignon Blanc alongside the Malbec and Cabernet Sauvignon that appear in equal proportion on this bottle. The two varieties are picked by hand and vinified separately before being brought together in the final blend.

The resulting wine is rich, smooth and fruity with a spicy-herb finish. At the price it is a very decent wine.

Yalumba

As Today is our 12th wedding anniversary it really ought to have been Champagne, but I couldn't find one with a significant Y associated with it and so we have:


Week Y (2019) Yalumba Organic Shiraz 2017. Waitrose £9.99

I am finding that having returned to recording my weekly wine selection there is often a reference back to earlier times. In this case it is that Yalumba was also the producer responsible for Week Y (2014). On that occasion it was their white Organic Viognier, which remains one of my favourites.

This wine also comes from South Australia and, like the Viognier, is made from a grape whose original home is in France's Rhone Valley. There it is known as Syrah, but Australians renamed it Shiraz, for reasons unexplained.

Shiraz is a powerful grape variety, full of black fruit, bell pepper and spice flavours, often with strong tannins and capable of delivering high alcohol levels. Whilst wines from the Rhone valley appeal to me generally two of my 'bankers' are both Guigal's and Chapoutier's Cotes du Rhone, where the Syrah has been blended with one, two or even more of the twenty-one permitted varieties. They tend to be good value for money and often get favourable comments from friends and mealtime guests.

Perhaps it is because I regularly drink these Rhone blends that when I see a single varietal Shiraz / Syrah I tend to shy away as I expect it to be more challenging and possibly less enjoyable than the easy drinking blends. This probably says more about my faddy habits than anything intrinsically wine-related. I rarely order fish in a restaurant for similar reasons, but invariably enjoy the experience if I do.

So it was with that prejudice in mind I approached this bottle. Well, it's like the fish all over again. Not the wine, I am sure you understand, but the experience. This is a well made, easy to drink, fruity red wine underpinned with both floral aromas and spicy flavours. There is tannin, but it is not excessive or unripe. It is more structured than the Cotes du Rhones, but that just means it is distinct from them in a pleasing way.

Yalumba is now definitely a name I trust. There are four wines in their organic range, all overseen by a talented lady named Heather Fraser, and I look forward to trying the Pinot Grigio and the Chardonnay in the near future.

If you hurry, Waitrose have a 25% discount on the Shiraz right now..

Ximinez, Pedro

It is supposed to be a red wine week and so Pedro Ximinez, the grape used to create this week's wine, doesn't really qualify. However, I am prepared to make this exception for two reasons. Firstly, whilst the grape itself is a pale, yellowy-green colour the wine is a rich, dark, mahogany brown and a long way from white. Secondly, the rules are mine and should not be allowed to constrain my exploration. More about a particular constraint later.

Since escaping the responsibilities associated with bluffing my way through the world of IT, I have very much enjoyed becoming a volunteer in a community shop in my home village. Apart from the great pleasure derived from doing something that feels genuinely useful and is motivated by something other than financial gain for the first time in many years, I have also made a number of new friends and acquaintances, with a wide variety of background and experiences. The shop itself  sells an impressive range of essential items including a number of wines supplied by Liberty Wines. One of these is:

Week X (2019) El Candado, Pedro Ximinez Sherry. Wigginton Community Shop £22.

This is a unique drink and very distinct from anything you might associate with the word 'Sherry'. If you don't like Sherry, try this as it may surprise you.

It is Sherry, however, as it is made in the traditional Sherry way, with the wine having been matured in a solera system, after it has been fortified with grape spirit. This is where new wine is added to the barrels at the top of a stack and each year part of the contents are drawn off and added to a barrel in the next layer down in that stack until, after a few years, it has reached the bottom of the stack. Once there it can be drawn off and bottled. The liquid that goes into the bottle will be at least as old in years as the number of levels in the solera and, because the barrels are never more than one-third emptied and topped up in any one year, mostly much older. This process in known as 'fractional blending' as only a fraction of the wine from any one harvest is used at a single time and the blend is created in the solera from the juice of all the years that have ever been added to it. This wine has an average age of ten years as a consequence. (Make sense? No? OK try Wikipedia, or a proper book. Perhaps go on a course?)

Pedro Ximinez, or PX for ease, is extremely sweet. This version has 400 grams of sugar in every litre of wine. Is that a lot? Yes, as a typical dry table wine will have about 1% of that amount. In fact, this is so sweet that if it is drunk without being chilled first or, as is suggested on the bottle, being taken 'on the rocks' it can be too syrupy to be experienced at its best. It is full of figs, raisins, chocolate and even coffee and spice. Ideally, this should be drunk with friends although it won't mind being kept in the fridge for quite a long time which is just as well, given that you want to keep your teeth.

Poured over vanilla ice-cream it makes a great, simple dessert and it can stand up to a good, salty blue cheese when its sweetness and dried-fruity flavours make a great combination.

The bodega from which this comes is Valdespino, named after Alfonso Veldespino a 13th century knight who fought alongside King Alfonso X against the invading Arabs. I can't find any reference to him making Sherry which may not have come along until a couple of hundred years later, but the family who own the lands Alfonso was given in return for his loyalty, the Estevez family, produce a good volume of different styles of Sherry from 750 hectares of their own vineyards and if the others are as good as this, then I really must try some of them.

The keen-eyed amongst you will have noticed that there is a padlock attached to the top of the bottle. That's not me being overly cautious but the producer's attempt to tell you this is worthy of a bit of pilfering. El Candado translates from the Spanish as ' the lock' and, I think, hints at the close control the winemaker has on the quality of his product.

White

I did say I had relaxed the rules for my weekly wine selection, but even I think I may be pushing the limits with this one. White it is, but I did have a better reason for wanting to buy this particular wine.

I am usually quite ruthless when it comes to mail management. The vast majority of emails that reach my inbox are deleted without being read and that is after an even bigger majority has been filtered out by those kind people at Google. Those that get any attention at all have really done very well and have made it into the second round. At this stage most will get a cursory glance and then meet the same fate as the losers in round one. Some get read properly. With hard copy mail the odds of success are even less, so Majestic can consider themselves truly honoured that not only did I read their flyer for 'Aussie Rules' but, as a direct consequence, took myself off the local branch to taste and then buy six bottles of:

Week W (2019) Soumah Chardonnay 2017, Majestic £11.98.

Those familiar with Majestic's pricing policy will appreciate that this is the 'mix six' price which in this case is a 33% reduction on the amount asked for a single bottle, being £17.99.

So why did I respond to the marketing material when I am usually so resilient to such approaches? It is because when I still had a proper job that took me to the land down under, every now and again, I had the opportunity to visit a few wineries and on one such trip I visited Soumah.  I mentioned this in Week Y (2014) under the heading of Yering Farm which was the last stop that day, from where I bought a Pinot Noir for that week. I remembered enjoying the visit to Soumah, in fact I enjoyed the whole four winery tour (as far as I recall) and wanted to refresh that memory.

And very refreshing it is. This is much better than I had expected. I was prepared to discover that my rationale for selecting the wine was a misguided personal indulgence and that the reality would not live up to the romantic notion of some vague reconnection with a pleasant day five years ago.

The aromas are interesting, being mostly clean and fruity but with some hint of subtle oak, but the flavours are much more intense than I had imagined. Green apples, limey citrus and some touches of matchstick and nuts all of which lasts a pleasingly long time.

The cellar door price for this wine is A$28 and at today's exchange rate that is a touch over £15.50, so allowing for Majestic's buying power giving them a hefty discount but also allowing for the logistics, duty and vat, I think the mix six price is a pretty fair deal.

I remember meeting the winemaking family and they were very welcoming, even by Australian standards, and also that they were concentrating on Italian grape varieties, but it was only when reading the small print on the bottle that I discovered that Soumah is not a family name, not an Aboriginal name for the land where the grapes now grow, nor is it anything to do with Italy. It is a reference to the vineyard location being SOUth of MandoorAH.  I hope to go there again one day.

Veronese

It's winter, it is cold and sunny or cold an grey as the weather chooses and that means an ideal, warming, late and long Sunday lunch is in order. The Ox cheeks were cooked long and slow, really long and very slow, such that they fell apart with a deeply satisfying richness and demanded to be over-eaten.

Having cooked Ox cheek previously I wanted something that would pull its weight and, despite having marinated the meat for more than 24 hours in a bottle of Errazuriz Coastal Series Pinot Noir, I went for:

Week V (2109) Masi Campofiorin, Rosso del Veronese IGT 2015. Waitrose £9.74

This did the job very nicely, thank you. In fact so nicely I find myself feeling rather pleased that I bought two bottles and only opened one. It was rich and fruity, in a cherries and berries kind of way, but had good tannins and typical Italian acidity that made it a well-rounded pleasure.

I have for quite a long time been a fan of Valpolicella, in all its forms, as I may have mentioned in the past (not that I expect anyone will have read it) and although this particular bottle is labelled IGT and cannot, therefore, use that name but it is in effect what it is. Made in the Veneto with the three most frequently used Valpolicella grapes: Corvina, Rondinella & Molinara, this wine is a 'supervenitian' for the same reason the wine from Week T (2019) was a Super Tuscan.

Masi first made Campofiorin in 1964 as the prototype for what has become the Ripasso style of Valpolicella. That is, the fermented wine is re-fermented on the pomace left over from the production of either the Amarone or Recioto styles. I definitely banged on about this on 28th June 2015, if you are really bored.

Masi, a producer run by the Boscaini family for six generations, are an innovative bunch as, not only introducing this style of wine, they have also more recently been leading the reintroduction of a near-extinct regional grape variety, Oseleta, which was at the start of the 21st century down to its last 50 acres of vines, near Lake Garda. I was lucky enough to attend a tutored tasting back in September 2016, during the fallow period for my blogging, at the WSET School where a range of Masi wines were shown to illustrate the effect of adding a proportion of Oseleta to the various blends. All of the wines were good with my personal favourite being the Costasera, described by Masi as 'proud, majestic, complex and exuberant...a gentle giant...a benchmark for the Amarone category', which doesn't contain Oseleta so I came away having tasted some excellent wine but being less convinced that Oseleta was the missing magic ingredient. Italy is not short of unusual grape varieties and I was hoping to be more convinced as I like the idea of a winemaker's efforts to maintain local specialities being successful.

Campofiorin will be bought again, especially as at ~£10 a bottle it is good value for money. Costasera may also be bought but at £33 a pop it will need to be for a special occasion. Did I mention it's my birthday next month?

Umberto's again

I have enjoyed exploring wine for around nine years now and found that what started as a simple desire to understand the difference between, for example, Bordeaux and Burgundy or Chianti and Valpolicella, has developed into a seemingly endless voyage of discovery of all manner of unexpected delights.

I have found myself reading not just about grapes and fermentation, but geography, meteorology, history, biology, chemistry, economics, marketing, counterfeiting, fraud, philosophy and politics, amongst other things that I can't recall quickly enough and which in any case would only make an already unnecessarily long list longer.

I have made friends, and lost others, through the sharing of opinions and the debating of the merits or otherwise of particular styles and bottles. I have learned from many, disagreed with some, but always enjoyed the interests and experiences of others who have an appreciation of the juice and where it can lead.

The romance attached to some wines or their producers can be beguiling, as long as it is not transparently invented solely for promotional purposes. There was an element of romanticised history involved in this week's selection bought from Umberto's in Thame.

Week U (2019) Da Vinci Vermentino IGT 2016. Umberto's £12.50

As I noted last week, this wine was bought alongside its Tuscan cousin as part of a 'bin-end' pair, marked down from significantly higher original retail prices.

The romantic history attached to this Vermentino was that it came from vineyards originally owned by Leonardo Da Vinci and now in the hands of his great, great, great, etc until there are enough greats, grand-daughter. I may have misheard the precise details, but the strong family association was certainly part of the sales pitch, even if that was nothing to do with the decision I made to buy the bottle. That was much more to do with the fact that I like Vermentino and I like the salesman.

The wine is good. Bright and lively with citrus and floral aromas leading to some stone fruit flavours and a pleasing, tropical finish. For the apparently discounted price it is very good value and is the kind of wine that I would be happy to have on hand for any occasion where a white might be enjoyed.

Now, back to the provenance. Armed with Google (other search engines are available) it would not take even the least experienced of investigators to challenge the notion that the owner of the vineyard or winery responsible for the wine is a part of Leonardo's legacy. Yes, it comes from Vinci, the town from which Leo was Da, but it seems the winery itself, Cantine Leonardo Da Vinci, was established in 1961 by a group of 30 farmers who saw the benefits of forming a co-operative. In 1965 they first made wine in barrels and were putting it in bottles from 1971. The number of growers has increased since then to around 200 who together account for the production of over 4 million bottles of Da Vinci wines every year.

So, perhaps not a long-established family firm although it is of course possible that the great, great, etc, grand-family member was one of the original 30 farmers, or even a later entrant. But g-g-g-grand-daughter seems unlikely as LDV had no documented offspring, but does have documented records of behaviour (and later speculation) that any offspring at all would have been unlikely.

Does any of this matter? No, not a jot. In fact it is quite a good example of how the simple act of purchasing a single bottle of wine can lead to unexpected places, as long as you let it.