David Crossley's Wide World of Wine

Bicycle, Bicycle,…

Posted on 04/08/2016 by dccrossley

It may be a coincidence, but so many people I know who love wine also love cycling. Of course, wine is a highly calorific beverage and we all need to battle those calories. But there’s another angle as well. I remember last time I visited the Cote d’Or, driving down the Route des Vins between producers, stuck in a stream of traffic, boots full of wine. Whilst you really can’t beat walking in the vineyards to get to know your terroir, a bicycle is a relaxing alternative to the car: you get to cover a wider area than on foot, with the chance to stop and look whenever you want.

Almost every time I visit a wine region I try to get on a bike at least once during the trip. The good news is that many wine regions now have dedicated cycle routes, often well away from the traffic which can clog the roads in summer. Such routes are usually well marked and well mapped, and if you don’t want to lug your bike across Europe (or are flying), there are almost always cycle hire facilities on hand. In recent years I’ve cycled on the paths of the Mosel in Germany, the Neusiedlersee and the Danube in Austria, and the Loire in Touraine, France. These are not the only options for wine biking by a long way, but for sheer cycling pleasure, stunning wine country, not to mention all important pit stops for tasting and eating, they are a good place to begin.

The Wachau Trail

As the Danube flows majestically towards Vienna it passes through the Wachau region. It’s the Austrian vineyard which is closest in feel to Germany’s Mosel, steep vineyards rising above the river to hills topped with ruined castles, whilst pretty villages below huddle around the tall spire of an old church. It’s a region where, like the Mosel, Riesling also excels, along with the native Grüner Veltliner.

We took an early train from Vienna’s Franz Joseph station up the line to Krems, having pre-booked bike hire online, a ten minute walk from our destination (but Krems is full of bike hire options). Even before you leave Krems itself you are almost immediately onto a dedicated cycle track, but when you leave the old suburb of Stein on the town’s western edge, you are truly off-piste as far as traffic is concerned. Some of the Wachau cycle route is on vineyard roads, and it reverts to public roads through the village centres, but it is generally very safe and traffic free, apart from the odd vineyard tractor.

It’s possible to cycle a long way on the Danube trail, as far as Germany if you’re game. Or maybe take a day to reach Melk at a leisurely pace, stay over night, and explore the abbey. We went for a lighter, one day, option – cycling to Spitz where we had a leisurely lunch in the sunshine at Haus Prankl (just west of the village itself), followed by a wake-up walk to the castle above the village. Here you get a bird’s eye view of the sweep of the river and the vineyards.

On our way to Spitz we passed through villages which will be as familiar to lovers of Wachau wines as those of Burgundy and the Mosel: Unterloiben and Oberloiben, Durnstein, Weissenkirchen and Wosendorf. Durnstein is particularly attractive, though equally popular, sitting above the river, towered over by another castle ruin. This one served as the prison of Richard I of England when he was captured on his way home from the Third Crusade, having offended Duke Leopold of Austria after the siege of Acre.

Spitz is a great destination for another reason, though you will need some panniers or a bike with a basket. Although the wine route is scattered with the famous producers of the region, from the traditional winery and very good heuriger of the Knoll family (the Loibnerhof restaurant in Unterloiben is another great food destination) to FX Pichler’s ultra-modern winery just off the cycle route near Oberloiben, you do need to make an appointment to taste. But if you want an in-depth survey of the Wachau’s wines, Vinothek Hubert Fohringer (down near the ferry jetty in Spitz) is one of the very best wine shops in the region. A visit here is highly recommended.

The Austrian Tourist Board will send you a very good Wachau Trail Map at a scale of 1:35,000 – indispensable.

Touraine-Chinon

France’s longest river has unending cycle touring possibilities along almost its whole length, but Touraine provides some of the most picturesque (and easy) biking, and the medieval town of Chinon is a good place to start. Whilst aficionados of Chinon’s wines might wish to head east, towards Panzoult, the prettiest cycling is in a westward direction.

Just south of Chinon, beside the bridge over the River Vienne, there’s a cycle hire depot. If you cycle west for a short distance, along the right bank as far as the busy D751, and cross to the north side, via the bridge, the cycle route mixes (as in the Wachau) dedicated, traffic free, cycling paths with small village roads which are very quiet. The off-road route begins immediately after that bridge, on your left, following the river’s right bank. After a detour through a couple of villages, the off-road route recommences between Savigny-en-Véron/Port-Guyot and Candes-St-Martin/Montsoreau, where the Vienne flows into the Loire. From here I recommend a detour south, to the Abbey of Fontevraud. There’s some nice hilly countryside and forest around here, and all of these villages have numerous places to grab lunch with a bottle of local wine.

Mind you, on the subject of drinking and cycling, I did learn a lesson here a few years ago. It’s all very well sitting in the sunshine over lunch enjoying a glass, or maybe two. But it is possible to be caught drunk in charge of a bicycle, and even if you keep within limits its still the same as drinking when you are driving a car. However sober you might be, the dehydrating effects of alcohol and a large lunch on one’s peddle power shouldn’t be underestimated. I remember cracking on a rise towards Fontevraud which could, in all honesty, only be described as a gentle incline, hardly a minor alp. I almost had to get off and push.

Neusiedler See

Regular readers will know how much I love this lake, about an hour’s bus ride from Vienna. The whole region is very well endowed with wine producers, and you can’t visit Rust without hiring one of the small motor boats for a morning out on the lake and among the reed beds. But the lake is also blessed with a passenger ferry service which allows you to take your bike over, thus opening up a lot more possibilities for a day in the saddle. Once again, if you don’t have your own cycle, don’t worry. Fahrrad Johann Schneeberger on Rust’s Rathausplatz, just a few doors up from Heidi Schroeck, is your man.

You can take a ferry from the marina at Rust, over to Podersdorf, but last summer we preferred to cycle the five-or-so kilometres between the vines and the lake to Morbisch-am-See (keep your eyes open for the adorable Mangalitsa pigs if you take this route), for the ferry to Illmitz. Illmitz is another four kilometres from the ferry jetty, but this eastern side of the lake contains an extensive bird sanctuary. I’m not especially knowledgeable on this subject, but we spent an hour or two cycling the lanes here, stopping at several hides to watch the waders. There are a number of circular routes from Illmitz itself, which is a good place to stop for lunch or a coffee, the village being home to several internationally renowned producers (Kracher and the Tschidas for starters).

If you have the energy, once you have returned on the ferry, head south out of Morbisch and before you know it you are into Hungary. The very intrepid (and fit) cyclist could actually ride right around the south side of the lake here, but from Illmitz to Morbisch on the “Iron Curtain Trail” is something approaching 50 kilometers (I know a good few fellow wine lovers who would zip that off in an afternoon, but my joints are beginning to creak a little for that level of exertion). Anyway, the ferry across the lake is fun, and sitting on deck with a restorative coffee is a pleasure in itself.

Pick up the Raderlebnis Neusiedlersee map, which includes all the cycle routes, from the Tourist Office in Rust.

Mosel

Last summer we also added the Mosel cycle path to our list of favourites. We were staying just outside of Bernkastel and it’s suburb on the other side of the river, Kues. Once again, there are several bike hire options, and the Tourist Office will have a list. There are two choices of direction from Bernkastel, both providing unrivaled views of the vertiginous vineyard slopes which make this river one of the most beautiful destinations for wine lovers in the world. You can go southwest, towards Piesport, perhaps via Thomas Haag’s brooding pile, Schloss Lieser, or do as we did and cycle northeast, to Traben-Trarbach. Keeping to the Mosel’s eastern bank, nearly all of the route to Trarbach is off-road.

Almost immediately upon leaving Bernkastel, in the shadow of the Doktorberg, you are flanked by the steep vineyards of Graach and Zeltingen, split by the vineyards opposite Wehlen, where a stop in front of the famous Sonnenuhr (sun dial) vineyard is de rigeur. As well as being quiet, the track sticks close to the river here. There are plenty of other kinds of watering holes too. The capacity of the German cyclist for a mid-morning beer is impressive.

As you sweep round the river’s meander towards Erden the vineyards switch to the south-facing western bank, as Urzig’s “spice garden” comes into view, a reminder of how difficult, and dangerous, working these vines is for the dedicated men and women who farm these slippery, slate slopes.

It’s here that you will pass beneath the river’s great blot on the landscape, the contruction site of the mindless Mosel Bridge, intended to open up Frankfurt-Hahn airport. Regional transport policy, and party-politics, obviously take precedence over a World Heritage vineyard in the minds of Germany’s politicians. Yet despite the bridge, the river here is incontestably beautiful beyond words. You ride on through Losnich, following yet another sharp bend in the river, until you eventually reach Trarbach (with its Buddhist Museum), and cross the old fortified bridge into Traben on the opposite bank.

You can cycle onwards if you so wish. Eventually you’ll get to the Rhine at Koblenz. We took the option of lunch in a small restaurant down near the river by Traben, before returning to Bernkastel on the other side of the Mosel. The cycle route on the western bank is not quite as attractive, nor traffic free, as the other side of the river, but, with a few detours into the vines and a bit of sniffing out a route, it does afford another perspective on the river. The last part of the route back into Bernkastel, via Kues, is very gentle and quiet.

Although you can get a free cycling map of the Mosel from all the local Tourist Offices, I’d try to get hold of the green Geomap 1:50,000 Moseltal map (number 44105, Vulkaneifel-Moseleifel in the Wander-und Freizeitkarte Series, Schweich bis Winningen). The added detail is worth it.

A Sporting Chance

Posted on 30/07/2016 by dccrossley

When a friend suggested a group of us wander down to Seasalter for the Tasting Menu lunch at The Sportsman it was impossible to refuse. Not only has Stephen Harris created a menu which the Daily Telegraph described as “no nonsense, unapologetic brilliance”, this self-titled grotty pub on the North Kent coast has recently been crowned National Restaurant of the Year. This place has been a legend almost since it opened in 1999, and has held a Michelin Star since 2008. It’s not too far from me as the crow flies, but yesterday, thanks to the current dire situation on our railway network, it took me four hours to get there, and almost as long to get back. Was it worth it? Absolutely.

I want to tell you all about what we ate, and what we drank – a host of fabulous wines to accompany the fine food. The problem is that I could quite easily fill an hour of your time. So instead, I’ll let you see some of the many photographs I took, and keep the words to a minimum. If you want to know which of the dishes I enjoyed the most, well, that simple signature dish of Slipsole in a seaweed butter sauce probably hit the greatest heights, its simplicity and perfection just triumphing over a mushroom and celeriac tart, which had the finest pastry you could imagine, and exploded with egg yolk when punctured.

The wine highlights were many, bearing the mark of wine obsessives rather than boasters. Tony’s Gaja Barbaresco 1999 was the most sublime of the reds (for me), and I apologise for suggesting that my own As Sortes Godello 2011 topped the whites. Only one wine didn’t live up to expectations – The Breton Bourgueil. It was a bit corked, we thought. The beer, the Champagne and the very unusual South African Chenin were consumed on the train down from St Pancras, the rest at The Sportsman. I hope the pictures give a sense of the truly delicious food and wine.

The one thing to remember when looking at the food here, is that Stephen Harris aims to compile a menu entirely from food he can see from the pub. The lamb grazes on the salt marsh over the road, the vegetables are grown in the garden, the sea plants are foraged and, whilst he can’t literally see the fish and seafood, it is very local and very fresh. Even the butter is home churned. A true locavore destination.

Agrapart Mineral 04

Pliny from Sonoma

SA Chenin!

Rare Sonoma ale, stunning Agrapart Mineral 2004 and, yes, a very strange SA Chenin, Ezibusisweni (Place of the Blessings), made by Angus McIntosh (who also manages Spier Estate in Stellenbosch).

Appetizer with Hatzidakis‘ Old Vine “Mylos Assyrtiko” from Santorini.

Brill tartare with soya yoghurt and the first course proper, Oysters, with a fabulous Raveneau Butteaux 1er Cru Chablis and the first of our Emidio Pepe wines, the Trebbiano d’Abruzzo.

As Sortes 2011, Val do Bibei Godello from Valdeorras by Rafael Palacio and unbelievably complex, low acid Hermitage Blanc Chevalier de Sterimberg 1983, Jaboulet, with cream of vegetable soup, and the mushroom and celeriac tart. See how simply the dishes are named here.

The Slipsole grilled in Seaweed Butter gets a big photo, it’s a kind of signature dish at The Sportsman and it’s hard to convey just how good it is. Subtle, fresh, probably perfect…

The Brill here is braised in Vin Jaune and topped with a piece of smoked pork. The Saumur Blanc, Ch Yvonne “Le Gory” was new to me, OW Loeb having just imported it. Very good indeed, recommended.

Two contrasting Morgons – the delicious and lifted “Bio Dynamite” from Yann Bertrand and Grange Cochard‘s more sturdy, structured, Cote du Py 2009. The Emidio Pepe Montepulciano d’Abruzzo 1982 took time to open despite its age, but did, slowly, whilst showing a touch of farmyard brett (which didn’t worry me). The Fonsalette Cotes du Rhone 1999 began wonderfully, but perhaps faded a little by the end (deliciously, though). It was red of the day for some people.

You can see from the glass on the right that the Gaja is still youthful, but what a bouquet! Unbelievable. At least one person found it too modern but I thought it very fine, assured, silky over its tannins. The bread at The Sportsman (top right) is out of this world, for me perhaps even better than Hedone’s in Chiswick (it’s a close run thing). The treacly sourdough is something I’d love to make myself, whilst I have genuinely never eaten a finer focaccia, not even in Italy. The lamb, above, is roast saddle.

Chateau Batailley 2001 was drinking very well, the 12.5% alcohol making this savoury red a great lunchtime wine without that being mere faint praise. Classic Pauillac. I was admiring the causse-forged cutlery, a sound touch.

Top right is an ethereal concoction which they call jasmine tea junket with (Kentish) cherries. Dessert proper was a piping hot rhubarb soufflé with rhubarb ripple ice cream. The fascinating, and brilliant, Cinque Terre dessert wine, Sciacchetra Riserva 1997 from Monterosso al Mare was both complex and wild. A wine I’d like to seek out but know nothing about, not even the producer, Terre di Levante. It’s made from raisined grapes, the thick skinned Bosco, with Vermentino and Albarola. It has a luminous amber colour, and smells of so many things it would create a pretentious list of adjectives you would not welcome. John from Winemakers Club brought it and I’m hoping he’ll do the legwork and maybe even import some. It was so good it even had the edge over the Riecine Sebastiano, a Tuscan natural passito IGT made intermittently by this fabulous Chianti estate. This vintage is the 1999.

So, a perfect day. Left home at 7.40am, opened the door at 8.45pm, a tiring day for sure, involving four trains, two taxis and one Underground journey. I’m very glad I wasn’t too inebriated! It was a truly memorable day out, one which I count my blessings for being able to enjoy. I think there’s now already a plan for something even more ambitious later in the year. Before our taxis back to Whitstable station arrived we had the chance for a nice post-prandial stroll along the estuary, with views over to the Isle of Sheppey, and I’ll leave you with a few photos. It’s worth leaving some time for this.

The Tasting Menu at The Sportsman costs £65 per person (it does change, and what we ate differed from that on the web site). The staff are happy to take account of allergies and preferences if given warning. The availability to take our own wine was down to an arrangement made by one of our party, who is a regular customer. I believe something on a much smaller scale can be arranged in advance. To get to The Sportsman you need to take a taxi from Whitstable station (£8.50 each way). The tasting menu commences at 12.00 prompt. Allow three-and-a-half to four hours to eat it.

The little man is Galahad, four months old and very well behaved. I think he enjoyed the day as much as the rest of us.

Posted in Dining, Wine, Wine and Food | Tagged Agrapart Mineral, As Sortes Rafael Palacios, Ch Batailley Pauillac, Ch Yvonne Saumur Blanc, Chateau de Fonsalette, Chavalier de Sterimberg Hermitage Blanc, Emidio Pepe Montepulciano d'Abruzzo, Emidio Pepe Trebbiano, Ezibusisweni Chenin, Gaja Barbaresco, Hatzidakis, Morgon Bio Dynamite Yann Bertrand, Morgon Cote du Py Grange Cochard, Mylos Assyrtiko, Pliny the Elder beer, Raveneau Butteaux, Restaurant of the Year 2016, Riecine Sebastiano, Sciacchetra Riserva, Sportsman Seasalter, Tasting Menus, Terre di Levante Cinque Terre | 3 Comments

Keeping My Chinato Up

Posted on 23/07/2016 by dccrossley

I have a mate called Warren. Some of you may know him. He’s the guy who organises the occasional Spice Oddities spin-off we have at the India Club on The Strand, and the Fish ‘n Fino lunches at Masters’ near Waterloo. I think he excelled himself in organising this very select little lunch at Pardis, a Persian/Iranian restaurant on Connaught Street, yesterday. The idea (which may have come from a bottle of I took to one of the spice lunches), crazy as it might sound, especially in summer, was to see whether Persian food would match with Chinato.

What is Chinato? You may well ask. There’s a tradition, which seems foremost now in Piemonte and with Barolo, to add a mixture of herbs and spices to wine. Think of something going in the direction of a vermouth or bitters (indeed, some people call Chinato a type of vermouth). The main difference is that vermouth is sometimes a commercial product and the wine used is unlikely to be of fine quality. Vermouth, red and white, is mainly a speciality of France and Italy, with well known brands like Noilly Prat and Dolin in the former, Martini & Rossi and Cinzano in the latter. Vermouths are most often mixed with gin these days (the now ubiquitous negroni, or a gin martini, for example), and both are undergoing an incredible revival. Chinatos are, by contrast, often small production, artisanal, versions, most usually made as a sideline by wine estates. But not always, as we shall see.

Some put the invention of chinato down to a Serralunga pharmacist called Giuseppe Cappelano in the 19th Century, but of course botanicals have been added to wine since Greek and Roman times. The Retsina, of Greece, is not too far removed from this. The key element in a true Barolo Chinato is the bark of the cinchona tree, in which the wine is steeped. In other words, they are quinine infused. Other common additions include cinnamon and coriander, but as with gin, the list can be long. Sugar may be added to sweeten the bitterness created by the bark, but not always. And as we discovered, the Chinato concept has spread further than Italy. Chinato may be viewed as a kind of vermouth by some, but technically speaking it’s a vino aromatizzato, which I think needs no translation.

Chinato is generally used as a digestif in Piemonte. You won’t find it mixed with gin, nor anything else (though sparkling water proved interesting). Its bitterness, and occasionally a sweetness which either fights or balances this bitterness, depending on your viewpoint, make it a difficult match with food. Italian Chinato usually manages 16% alcohol as well, which is quite high for a table wine, at least among the people I mix with.

Of the food itself, it was delicious. At least two of the other diners seemed to have a good appreciation for a cuisine which I love, yet rarely sample (though I’m going to give a plug here for Sabrina Ghayour‘s brilliant cook book, Persiana (Mitchell Beazley, 2014), which was my cookery book of last year).

The picture on the left shows a selection of our starters, with some of the freshest soft walnuts I’ve eaten, and wonderful home cooked sesame bread. In the centre is my Shireen Polo, fragrant rice with almonds, pistachios and orange peel hiding a large lamb shank, cooked to perfect tenderness. The last photo is Ghouzi, chosen by a couple of people at the table.

Of the wines, I will say two things. First, they ranged from “interesting” to very good, but I can’t say they provided the hoped for food match that Warren was looking for. But how much did that really matter? Not much. The food and wines were good on their own and it was no mental hardship to go between one and the other. Why didn’t they fit? The wines were just too alcoholic, and the botanicals weren’t on the whole in tune with the fragrant Persian food. Chinato is obviously more than cinnamon and coriander. What we drank was as follows:

Chinensis Vino Aromatizzato alla China, Quaquarini, Buttafuoco DOC (16%). Buttafuoco is a doc of Oltrepo Pavese, in the province of Pavia, so just to the east of Piemonte. Quaquarini, the producer, is based at Canneto Pavese. It’s not easy to work out what this is made from, but my money is on Barbera, one of the region’s ubiquitous red varieties. The first person to raise a glass of this to their lips exclaimed “bloody hell, this smells like Worcester Sauce”, and it did. Think of a Bloody Mary on the nose and you will be close. It’s very herby, with soft spice, vermouth-like. Brick red, with a lot of fine sediment, it tasted overwhelmingly of cinnamon to me. But in terms of quality, a good start.

Xerez-Quina, Valdespino, Spain (15%). This is proof that the aromatised wine concept is not just limited to Italy, yet this was very different to the other three wines. For a start it was brown rather than red. Although made from Palomino (I was assured), this had a hint of Moscato on the nose. It was at this point I thought of Passito di Pantelleria. Although a solera wine in origin, this was quite simple on the nose (and certainly a touch oxidised, though I’m sure deliberately so). It’s commercialised in a litre bottle with a plastic screw top, clearly undergoing a strict filtration, and with a hint of caramel too. Yet this really did have its charm, and I think it benefited from being served chilled, despite the fact that it might be intended to be supped at a table in full Jerez sun through the month of August. I’m guessing 90% of wine drinkers would put this down, in both senses. Yet I can think of a few people who’d be happy to share a litre of this, all in a sense of fun (and gentle inebriation).

L’In Chino Vino Aromatizzato, Castello di Tagliolo, Dolcetto d’Ovada DOC (16%). This DOC is one of several named Dolcetto zones which crop up in Piemonte where this grape, often not even secondary to Nebbiolo in the famous zones, finds favour. Think also of Dolcetto from Dogliani, Diano d’Alba and Acqui Terme. Dolcetto d’Ovada comes from a string of villages, including Ovada itself, in the Province of Alessandria, to the immediate east of the Alto Monferrato (Nizza, Acqui, etc).

Another herby nose here with a mid-red colour. I’d say this is pretty refined in comparison to the previous wine, if perhaps a little less fun. It’s smooth and rich, like a quality vermouth, sweet with a bitter finish. Made (obviously) from Dolcetto but with nine added botanicals, including rhubarb, carnation, gentian and cinnamon. Very good, but hard to match with food in my opinion, though the producer does mention chocolate. Definitely we’re in “sipping digestif” territory for me.

Vino Aromatizzato Sestario, Cantina TreSecoli, Barbera d’Asti DOC (16%). Another red wine with a little bit of a brick-red tinge, made this time from Barbera by one of Piemonte’s largest producers. It’s an attractive wine but perhaps its source shows a little. It’s very herby, yet there is also a touch of hot alcohol on the palate which makes it both a touch more burly and a little less refined than the previous wine, which it otherwise resembles.

So, overall impressions? Chinato is a great drink to explore, something I’ve known for some time. The Barolo Chinato which I tasted first in the 1990s was from Vajra (which Liberty Wines used to import, though I don’t see it currently on their web site). Another very good example is made by the excellent Luca Roagna of Barbaresco. Both of these are Nebbiolo Chinatos. However, my advice is stick to drinking it after dinner.

That said, it was an excellent lunch, a chance to explore some unusual wines (only four bottles may seem well below our usual par, but the alcohol levels provide the clue), and a new, excellent restaurant. As for those alcohol levels, I deliberately didn’t overdo it on a hot day and I left Pardis more full than tipsy. If you do go there, make sure you are very hungry indeed.

Pardis is at 29 Connaught Street, London W2 (see the link to their web site towards the beginning of this article). They charge a standard £10 per bottle corkage, but for this they throw in a bottle of water (still or sparkling) with every bottle you bring. We were glad of it.

Posted in Dining, Italian Wine, Piemonte, Wine, Wine and Food, Wine Tastings | Tagged Cantina Tresecoli, Castello di Tagliolo, Chinato, Chinensis, food and wine, Iranian Cuisine, L'In...chino, Pardis Restaurant, Persian Cuisine, Piemonte Wine Specialities, Quaquarini, Sestario, Valdespino Quina, wine lunches | 2 Comments

Working Up a Genuine Thirst

Posted on 19/07/2016 by dccrossley

We recently had some extensive building work done and, in order to save some money for a lot of new carpets, we decided to do all the decorating ourselves. I know, so much less exciting than hitting the South of France for summer. But after days spent up a ladder, or rolling a roller on a long pole, at least there was a nice bottle to look forward to. Come next week, when the carpet fitters have done their fitting, life can return to normal – wine tastings, lunches (including a trip to “The Sportsman” which I’m very much looking forward to), and vineyard visits. All the everyday stuff. But at the end of the decorating day, paint-spattered and muscles aching, the following half dozen wines stood out from the past couple of weeks, providing thirst quenching enjoyment before stumbling into bed.

La Bota de Florpower 57, Equipo Navazos [2012] (12.5%). I never tire of Florpower, and every bottling is fascinatingly different. This is the most recent bottling I have, although the subsequent edition is heading over to the UK right now (I under ordered dramatically, thinking I had plenty of this one – bad move). It’s a simple proposition. Make a Palomino table wine from the same soils as Fino Sherry, ferment in steel with natural yeasts, allow for a flor reaction, but bottle unfortified. It’s dark yellow and smells like a fino, but it’s light on the palate, balancing citrus and what can be described in no other way (with apologies to the naysayers) as a chalky, soft, mineral mouth texture. It doesn’t lack for fresh acidity and it’s in a great place now, just bursting to be glugged.

Chianti Classico Fonterutoli 2011 (13.5%). Some might wonder whether a wine at 13.5% alcohol can be a thirst quencher? Wait and see the last wine! Actually, this appears to be a lighter vintage at Fonterutoli, or at least the 2011 is a wine of elegance. I particularly liked this because one thing you can always rely on this estate to produce is a wine which really smells and tastes like Chianti. It’s mainly Sangiovese, and it does have that classic brick red tinge which you don’t get when you completely overdo the Merlot. They do put it in small oak for twelve months, but you can hardly tell.

As I was reminded by a friend on Twitter, Fonterutoli is located in a lovely village, just a few kilometers south of Castellina and very close to Vagliale, where I’ve stayed before.The Mazzei family, who run the estate today, have been in charge since the 15th Century and it’s one of those quintessential Tuscan family farms. The winery is very modern, all gravity fed, built into the hillside and providing for small batch fermentations, yet it blends in seamlessly without being in the slightest bit obtrusive. That seems to be mirrored in this entry level Classico, and that’s what I love about it.

Regnié 2014, Julien Sunier (12%). Sunshine means Beaujolais, and Julien’s Regnié was just perfect. It comes from two small lieu dits called “En Oeillat” and “Les Forchets”, just 1.45 ha, but planted at a density of 1,000 vines per hectare. Fermentation is carbonic, with natural yeasts.

Vivid Gamay fruit here, a natural wine giving pure refreshment without the need for anything more. There’s a note on the label to keep this below 14 degrees. I very much doubt that was achieved in retail, and I’m sure that the ambient cellar temperature here at the moment is above 14 degrees as well, but there is no sign of spoilage. Nor was there with the previous bottle. But these warnings on low sulphur, or sulphur free, wines always interest me. I really do doubt the ability of most retailers to abide by them.

I was actually prodded into drinking this by someone asking me about Antoine Sunier. Antoine’s Regnié had been voted wine of the night at one of the three Beaujolais dinners we had last summer. I’m right out of Antoine’s wines, although it looks like UK distribution might not be too far away. But I do thankfully have just a little more of Julien’s.

Santorini Assyrtiko 2013, Hatzidakis (13.5%). I wish I drank more Greek wine (I used to), and I wish I drank more Assyrtiko too. It’s a grape which excels on Santorini, and can also benefit from a little bottle age (like Albarino, and Verdicchio, two other grape varieties which mostly get knocked back too soon). This is a pale wine which doesn’t look either alcoholic, nor complex. The nose is a little muted at first as well. But take a sip and you get a nice touch of citrus zest on the end of the tongue, and a chalky dryness further back. The acidity refreshes, but the dryness leads your senses on to just enough complexity and a certain richness, to make it a food wine.

If you want an analogy which is probably way out but sounds nice, think Chablis from a volcanic island. At least the second bit’s accurate. In fact, this relatively inexpensive bottle (the 2015 is currently £12.99 at UK supermarket, Waitrose) is possibly the best of the bunch for outdoor dining under the parasol, as the mercury heads towards 30 degrees Celsius here on the South Coast.

Piquentum Blanc 2012, Buzet d.o.o., Istria, Croatia (12.2%). This is a lovely Malvasia (or Malvazija in Croatian) given three days skin contact by French-born (Jurançon) winemaker Dimitri Brecevic. It sees a mix of wood and stainless steel and is intended to be aged (I’ve kept it about one year). This is another wine which combines freshness and complexity. The nose is really hard to describe, being both floral and spicy (mild spices). There’s a tiny bit of texture, perhaps the short skin contact, reflected in the mid-yellow colour, and the wine doesn’t lack for weight, despite the very specific but relatively low level of alcohol.

Dimitri has his vines near the town of Buzet. No, not that one! This Buzet is not far from the Slovenian border in Croatia’s Istrian wine zone. He makes natural wines with minimum intervention in a winery hewn into the hillside, providing uniform coolness (around 11 degrees) in which the wines mature. The region may be a rural idyll, but Dimitri is no stay-at-home. He’s made wine in Spain, Australia and New Zealand, along with a final stint in Burgundy, before finding his home in Istria.

I admit, I don’t get to drink a lot of Croatian wine, it must be said. That’s why, without making this out to be something it isn’t, I was really taken aback. It really is very good. I bought this from an interesting small merchant which specialises in the food and wines of the Adriatic region, Pacta Connect.

Nussberg Alte Reben 2012, Wiener Gemischter Satz, Wieninger (14.5%). This wine probably can’t claim to be the most thirst quenching of the half dozen here, but I do love Gemischter Satz. Actually, many versions of this Viennese field blend are the height of thirst quenchability, but with this cuvée, one of Fritz Wieninger’s top bottlings, for your £20+ you get vines over 50 years old, blending nine grape varieties (the main ones are Pinot Blanc, Neuberger and Welschriesling). It’s also one of the richest of Wieninger’s bottlings, a complex white with spice, brioche, citrus, mineral mouthfeel and more. Not a hotchpotch of flavours mirroring the multitude of varieties in the field blend, but more a wine of genuine personality reflecting both the terroir of the slopes surrounding the city and the traditional winemaking of this relatively new DAC, but centuries old vineyard.

Wieninger has perhaps the largest holding in Vienna, 70 hectares (including now the estate of Hajszan Neumann – he is only really challenged by the other great reviver of Gemischter Satz in Vienna, Mayer am Pfarrplatz). The Nussberg vineyard rises around 360 metres above Nussdorf on Vienna’s northern edge, on the western side of the Danube. Wieninger is actually based on the other side of the river at Stammersdorf, where the other great vineyard for Wiener Gemischter Satz lies – Bisamberg. Nussberg faces south and southeast, largely on limestone. In the near distance is the enormous edifice of the great abbey of Klosterneuberg, and all the villages boast the famous Heurigen where you can turn up and enjoy the owner’s wines along with some simple food (so long as you don’t choose one frequented by the coach parties where the wines are probably made with less discerning palates in mind). Beautiful place, and surprisingly beautiful wines. Quite unique and well worth exploring.

Oh, and when it’s thirsty work, there has to be beer as well. Beavertown Neck Oil, does what it says on the tin! Pale Ale, but don’t expect it to be filtered to death to extract all flavour. It’s not. Neither is it quite what you might expect from an industrial estate in North London.

Posted in Wine Agencies | Leave a comment

Five Men, Seven Wines, Typical Tuesday

Posted on 08/07/2016 by dccrossley

When 28-50 was simply one exciting new restaurant for wine lovers, albeit in a dark basement off Fleet Street, I used to dine there fairly regularly, lunch and dinner. But after the Marylebone branch opened I kind of gravitated there, and it became my favourite branch of the emerging chain. Having a good relationship with the team, it became the venue for many wine dinners, corkage having been duly agreed. For a number of reasons I don’t think I’d dined there for about a year, so it was very pleasurable going back on Tuesday evening for dinner with some good friends, most of whom I’d also not seen for a good while. One of them was bound to bring some fine, no, very fine, Rioja, so lips were being licked well before kickoff.

The food at 28-50 doesn’t make any claims to grandeur. It’s fairly simple fare, plated up without pretense, but that’s the beauty of using them for a wine dinner, whether you are buying from their excellent connoisseur’s list of usually older wines, supplied by friends of the chain, and sold at reasonable markups, or whether you are taking your own kit, as in our case. The food doesn’t fight with the wine, it complements it. So apologies if I don’t eulogize over the terrine, steaks and dessert and move on to the wines. We were, as ever, grateful for the welcome, and especially for the excellent wine service.

A good Champagne is obviously welcome to set off proceedings (well, the two early birds were thirsty and ordered a glass of La Guita Manzanilla, but that doesn’t count as one of our seven a day). After Saturday’s Clouet Cuvée 1911, I have been seriously spoilt because Diebolt-Vallois Fleur de Passion is another Champagne I love, but rarely drink (and I think I’ve only ever bought one bottle myself, I hardly ever see it). This was the 2006, which was fresh and clean. It’s classic Cramant Chardonnay, but with (as every book says) a light touch. Nothing too “strict”, despite it being a non-malo cuvée which is vinified in (old) oak, from a village whose wines can often err towards the far reaches of chalky minerality and precision.

Instead of moving on to a white, we took the first red because on decanting its owner was worried it might fade. It didn’t fade, though nor did the charcuterie plate we ordered to go with it turn up (no matter). We were trying the wines blind. This was so obviously Rioja, but in playing the blind tasting game properly, someone must suggest something different (it’s a rule). That’s why I said Pomerol. Well, it was just so silky and rich. It turned out to be CVNE Vina Real Reserva Especial 1952, a magnificent wine.

There’s always a moment when you realise the wine you brought is going to have to follow something like that. It doesn’t help when the vintage you thought you had (2009) turns out to be something else. And then, in a blind tasting, you find yourself sat right next to a man who buys from this producer every year. Oh well! Roulot Meursault 2011 was not up to the standard of some of the other wines of the evening, and the 2009 (lost somewhere, hopefully to turn up one day) would have been better. But I’m a massive Roulot fan. I love this style of Meursault, at the opposite end of the field to the fat and buttery school of winemaking. I did enjoy drinking it, a lot if I’m honest, though I wondered whether others were being polite.

The next wine looked magnificent just sitting in the glass. Even by sight one might have ventured a very classy claret. Sadly one sniff, and it was clearly corked to you-know-what-ery! Chateau Léoville-Barton 1999. It would have been stunning, just not tonight!

The next red is very different. We managed to narrow this down to Northern Rhone. My guess was Seyssuel, but I was too far north. Hervé Souhaut Saint-Joseph 2010 is a fantastic young wine. In the “natural” camp, the fruit is truly alive, freshness no doubt enhanced by just 12.5% alcohol. But the depth of this wine is likely to have something to do with the age of the vines – 80 to 100 years old. I’ve only had Souhaut once or twice before, but every time I feel a desire to look out for a bottle or two.

After the corked Léoville-Barton it’s always good to have a man with another bottle in his bag, and when the wine was identified exactly, producer and vintage, on a couple of sips by the man on the left, below, (the man on the right was the generous provider, of course), I was glad I hadn’t proposed the Meinklang Graupert Zweigelt which was lurking in mine (a magnificent wine, of course, but not matching yet another wine over 60 years old). It was, of course, CVNE Vina Real Reserva Especial 1954. Such richness was unexpected. But here’s what the man who brought it along had to say in print: “This vintage [1954] qualified as merely good [official designation]…But time has proved CVNE’s Vina Real Reserva Especial…[one] of the best Riojas ever”. Imperial may be the flagship wine at CVNE, but Vina Real has a great reputation for ageing, and for a certain richness, and this was no exception. I was actually in heaven here. What indeed must the 1947 Imperial taste like?!

Amigos

The argument between us was which was the better CVNE wine (1952 or 1954). It left a split in the ranks, I myself going with the 1954 initially, yet oddly it is that first taste of the 1952 from decanter that has remained with me as I type. Unlike the 1954, whose greatness has been acknowledged, 1952, both at CVNE and in Rioja generally, does not appear to gain such high praise in print, so far as I can see. Yet both bottles were superb, and ageless. It’s easy to think wine lovers can get complacent when drinking wonderful bottles almost weekly, but it’s just not true. When you drink wines like these CVNEs, made before any of us were born, you do really stop and savour the moment.

We finished the evening with a wine generously ordered off the list by the man whose red was corked. We didn’t have to guess the wine, and I think someone probably managed to guess the vintage, although by this stage we were all quite relaxed and amiable. Chateau Coutet 2003 is rich, but not as rich as the vintage in wider Bordeaux might suggest. Very balanced, with orange dominating the colour, and apricot the nose (or is it peach, nectarine, you know what I mean). There was little sense of botrytis, though a nice bit of honey. A very tasty Sauternes, or should I say, Barsac.

Posted in Dining, Fine Wine, Wine | Tagged 28-50, Chateau Coutet 2003, CVNE Vina Real 1952, CVNE Vina Real 1954, Diebolt-Vallois, Fleur de Passion 2006, Hervé Souhaut Saint-Joseph, Léoville-Barton 1999, Rioja, Roulot Meursault 2011, Spanish Wine | 1 Comment

More Than Just Cordial

Posted on 06/07/2016 by dccrossley

I enjoyed a tasting event at Elderflower Restaurant a few weekends ago (see here), but until Saturday night I hadn’t dined there. That was soon put right, four of us enjoying a meal of a standard high enough that I can recommend a detour to Lymington without any hesitation.

Lymington is a sleepy Georgian town on the south coast, reached by a drive through the beautiful New Forest, beyond Lyndhurst and Brockenhurst. My connection is that my wife grew up near here, and my mother-in-law lives there. When she was younger, my wife couldn’t really wait to escape what seemed like a town full of retirees, but nowadays it at least has a good sprinkling of weekend residents from London who come not just for the yachting, but for a very good Saturday market and an increasingly worthwhile restaurant scene (I reviewed the fish and seafood restaurant, Verveine, in nearby Milford-on-Sea last year). Don’t forget Solent Cellar just up the High Street from St Thomas’s Church either, one of the South’s very best wine shops. A browse in here is pretty essential for any serious wine lover (some very good Champagnes in the glass cabinet, a surprising number of wines in magnum, and a host of gems for the very adventurous, a range many London shops would be proud of, and half these wines don’t sell out quite so swiftly).

The restaurant sits half way down the old cobbles towards Lymington Quay. It’s an old building with low ceilings and beams, relatively small and only a little less unprepossessing from the outside than the tea room which previously occupied the site before Elderflower opened its doors in early 2014. Owner and Head Chef at Elderflower is Andrew Du Bourg. He started his career during college at The Goring in London and, after stints at places like The Square with Phil Howard, he made Head Chef at Club Gascon, before moving to the same role at the famous country house hotel along the coast, Chewton Glen. Front of House is run with warmth and professionalism in equal measure by Andrew’s wife (and co-owner), Marjolaine, and fellow French compatriot Julien Bailly.

The Food

Fresh ingredients, well executed dishes, a degree of innovation in both construction and presentation are all evident. Highlights would include very fresh local crab if they have it, excellent turbot, and the smoked cigar dessert (this comes with a layered mousse in a glass coffee cup and a smoked chocolate cigar in an ash tray beside it). Andrew also accommodated my vegan wife with an inventive menu which probably tops anything put together for her before – and willingly so, no grudging response to her dietary requirements.

The Wines

The wine list at Elderflower is perhaps a work in progress. It’s the only thing one might quibble with (the younger waitresses don’t have the confidence of their counterparts in those places Andrew has worked in before, but I couldn’t fault the service). That’s not to say the list is devoid of plenty of good wine by any means. Indeed, if you want Mouton 2005 you can have it. It’s just that the list could do with a few more of the type of wines that will excite the wine enthusiast. But this is a very minor quibble. The 2014 Foillard Cote du Py we took from the list was magnificent. The rest of the wines were either consumed before we went (the first two wines below), or taken on special dispensation (the Loire and Alsace bottles). I don’t think corkage is generally encouraged.

We began the evening with a wine of both linear freshness and a good undercurrent of richness, but never losing a certain finesse which gives it great versatility. It will match so many dishes, despite our selection of it as an aperitif. It has been a long time since I drank André Clouet Cuvée 1911 but it’s wonderful, and at £70 is pretty good value for a multi-vintage prestige cuvée in my opinion. It’s 100% Pinot Noir from the best of Clouet’s Bouzy holdings on the Montagne. Only 1,911 bottles are produced, of course, so you won’t find it in Waitrose.

One of our foursome had planned to take a Coche-Dury Bourgogne Chardonnay 2007 to the restaurant, but on opening this had a few problems. One person thought it was corked. It certainly had a mustiness to it, but it did blow off a little. It was also very acidic indeed and, judging by a profound note on the 2002 I read today on the Winepages Forum, I am sure this bottle was way too young, corked or not.

I was also slightly worried about the Trimbach Cuvée Frédéric Emile 2001. It’s a wonderful wine from a wonderful vintage, but older CFE has been hit and miss over a few bottles I’ve had in recent years, in terms of oxidation. This was dark in colour, but a wonderful, evolved Riesling, and so long as well. On top form. I was very pleased with this bottle.

The counterpoint to the Alsace was a Loire wine of some rarity, I think (at least, I don’t see it often despite the ubiquity of the red these days). Clos Rougeard Saumur Blanc “Brézé” 2008 was even darker than the Trimbach, much more evolved in colour than I imagined it would be. But it was fascinating on the palate, a kind of dry tarte-tatin one moment, hoisin the next. The acidity was still fresh and it tasted young…and delicious. The pendulum has well and truly swung for the Foucault family’s wines, but in the rush to Instagram the red, don’t neglect the white.

Then finally the Foillard Morgon Cote du Py 2014. For me, the 2014 vintage in Beaujolais seems to be drinking very well at most levels. This was fresh and juicy. Although at least one diner said they felt it had much more to give, I like a bit of grip with my Gamay sometimes, and I’d not be afraid of popping one open if you have some. The bottle was bought at more or less the insistence of the man who’d ordered steak. I don’t think anyone would argue with that match, but as someone who enjoys reds with turbot, I was happy to go with the flow as well.

A brilliant evening in a restaurant turning out dishes beyond what I’d have dreamed Lymington was capable of a few years ago. Will our disengagement with Europe have a negative effect on gastronomy, or will the British food revolution continue apace? We shall have to see, but I can thoroughly recommend Elderflower, whether you are a merchant banker with a weekend retreat opposite the island, or whether you are camping in a tent in the forest. They even have three rooms over the shop, for those with nowhere to stay, although the town does now boast a few airbnb apartments too.

Booking at Elderflower is via their web site here. A three course dinner costs around £40, or a little more, depending on what you go for. The Foillard was around £60 off the list, but there is plenty to choose from above and below that.

Posted in Dining, Wine and Food | Tagged Andrew Du Bourg, Clos Rougeard Brézé, Clouet 1911, Coche-Dury Bourgogne Blanc, Elderflower Lymington, Foillard Morgon Cote du Py, Lymington, Solent Cellar, Trimbach Frederic Emile | 1 Comment

Refresher Course

Posted on 29/06/2016 by dccrossley

Back when I began enjoying wine, pre-Parkerisation, there were lots of red wines which, when served cool, or at “cellar temperature”, used to quench a thirst on a warm day. Back in the late 1970s it wasn’t uncommon to find Bordeaux Classed Growths coming in at under 12% alcohol. Without discussing the merits, or not, of such wines, you could share a bottle over lunch and stay awake at your desk beyond 3pm on returning to work.

I’m not really one for segregating the wine year by season, although it’s hard not to do so just a little bit. Thoughts turn to Nebbiolo as the leaves turn in colour, or to Beaujolais when the first glow of Springtime warms my face. There have been some warm days in Southeast England amid all the thunder storms, not to mention the other storms we are facing (out of Europe twice in one week is hard to handle). A bit of true liquid refreshment has been called for, and as all these wines, drunk over the past two weeks, fit that bill, both red, white and orange – they’re worth sharing.

Burgenlandrot 2014, Meinklang – The Klang make plenty of more expensive wines, but as I’ve said before, a true test of a winemaker is their entry point. Burgenlandrot is their simply named, does what it says on the label, wine that ticks all the boxes. A vibrant, dark red with a nose of peppery cherry. The blend is Zweigelt, Gamay and St Laurent. Its fruit is quite intense, partly because it’s lifted by refreshing acidity. I’m guessing Winemakers Club are taking (of necessity) their “Central London Location” cut, but at £16 it still represents excellent value…if they have any left, of course. It’s a lot cheaper in Austria, about €10 with taxes, but after the petrol…I’m not complaining. Alcohol – 12.5%.

Arbois “Champ Fort” 2009, Patrice & Caroline Hughes Beguet – This is Poulsard, or I should say “Ploussard” (Patrice has another cuvée complementing this one from the Côte de Feule in the “World Capital of Ploussard”, Pupillin). Champ Fort is from a north facing site of grey marl in the family’s home village of Mesnay, just a minute or two out of Arbois. This aged example, which I bought from Patrice in 2014, has fruit, structure and maturity. It feels à point. Although Wink Lorch describes the Côte de Feule as the top wine in the range (in Jura Wine, 2014), this particular Champ Fort is, on reflection, probably the best of Patrice’s wines I’ve tried to date. Alcohol – 12.5%.

Fleurie 2010, Jean Foillard – This is one of the wines we drank at our son’s recent wedding. Everyone rightly raves about the Morgons from Foillard, but his Fleurie is a dark horse and is sometimes my favourite. This 2010 is drinking superbly now, a majestic wine, smooth, fruity but not lacking grip. Earlier this year I was talking to a member of the Foillard team, who told me that this wine was what they’ve been drinking at the domaine this year. ‘Nuff said. Alcohol – 13%.

Brauneberger Juffer Riesling Kabinett 2010, Schloss Lieser – The other wedding wine. Thomas Haag is one of my favourite Mosel producers, even though his castle, a little downstream from Bernkastel on the opposite bank, is a little forbidding. When you want something light to go with the fizz, beer, gin, B52s and rum, this is just the thing. But it’s the ability of wines even at this level to age well which makes them quite remarkable. Alcohol – 8%.

Prosecco Colfondo NV, Casa Belfi – My son’s elder sibling had a birthday a few days after the wedding and we were pleased to be able to celebrate it with her. This and the following wine engendered a deep discussion on natural wines with two of her friends deeply into sustainability and permaculture. Colfondo Proseccos are cloudy, bottle fermented without disgorgement. There’s a yeasty softness. The cloudiness often makes people wary, but there’s something elemental, by which I suppose I mean primitive, but in a positive way. A wine full of contradictions, yet emerging at the end in simple form with all its flavours on its sleeve. Not the most profound of wines, indeed not the most profound of Proseccos (Casa Coste Piane anyone?), but bursting with simple pleasure.

Albillo 2014, Vinos Ambiz – This is the third time I’ve drunk this in the past couple of months, the first being at the Raw Popup at the London Edition Hotel in early May. An orange, skin contact, wine from the Sierra de Gredos, made by Fabio Bartolomei, although “made” is hardly fair. Winemakers often say that a wine makes itself, but other than some organic sheep and goat manure every two years, plus a tiny bit of sulphur in some of the wines when required, that’s all Fabio does. This wine is slightly cloudy with peach, apricot and mandarin flavours balanced by a savoury note. You don’t notice the alcohol at all, remarkable! One of the most challenging wines you’ll taste all year, but assuming you like a challenge, this is fantastic. But be warned. Others may run at the first mouthful. Alcohol – 15%.

Behind the wine, our new hospitality venture, “solitary bee” apartments – airbeenbee

One of the guests was the guy with whom we made some wine from a Seyval Blanc plot last year. I have to say that the bottles of white had improved a lot with a few months rest post-bottling. They still weren’t good, but they were drinkable if very tart. But a step up was a batch given extended skin contact. It only managed 5.4%, so not really a wine. But it tasted quite nice. I was surprised. This year the task is to thin the bunches more rigorously so that the remainder ripen better. But it’s not looking all that good on the weather front and even my home vines need pruning back every few days with all this rain.

Zweigelt Kieselstein, Burgenland 2014, Claus Preisinger – I won’t say much about this as I drink it, and write about it, with some regularity. This is a light and fruity red with a little bite/crunch. This time we served it pretty cool and that worked well. It’s probably top of my list of great value Austrian wines. Again, like the Meinklang, this is at the cheaper end of Claus’s range, but none the worse for that. Alcohol – 12.5%.

L’Uva Arbosiana, Arbois 2014, Domaine de la Tournelle – Pascal and Evelyne Clairet are among a select group of Arbois producers who owe some of their inspiration, and skills perhaps, to Stéphane Tissot, but who have since gone on to form their own domaines, creating exciting wines of their own. The whole range from Domaine de la Tournelle is exciting, right up to their Vin Jaune. Yet not one of them is more thrilling than this lovely carbonic maceration Ploussard. Is it a red, is it a pink? Who cares, it’s a totally delicious natural wine. It’s actually the first wine I ever tried from the domaine, which I purchased from Antidote, the restaurant near London’s Carnaby Street where some of you may recall we had one of our three New Beaujolais events last year. This bottle came from Dynamic Vines. I have a massive soft spot for this. Splosh it into a carafe, give it a shake, and enjoy. Jura wine at its most fun. Alcohol – 10.5%.

To finish, here are some Norwegian beers (mustn’t forget these, very nice, they arrived from Norway in a suitcase but I’m reliably informed that M&S have the prescience to stock the one on the right), and a sneaky peek at what we shall be drinking tonight – Domaine L’Octavin’s Cul Rond à la Cuisse Rose (pardon my French). White Ploussard, no less. 10.7% alcohol, FYI.

Posted in Austrian Wine, Jura, Natural Wine, Wine | Tagged Albillo, Burgenlandrot, Casa Belfi Prosecco Colfondo, Champ Fort, Claus Preisinger, Domaine de la Tournelle, Domaine L'Octavin Cul Rond, Foillard Fleurie, Hughes-Beguet, L'Uva Arbosiana, Meinklang, Pascal & Evelyne Clairet, Schloss Lieser, Vinos Ambiz, Zweigelt Kieselstein | 2 Comments

A Toast to Aosta

Posted on 21/06/2016 by dccrossley

A few days ago I realised that there is a small European wine region I’ve visited several times, whose wines I love, and yet I’ve never written about it here. Back in 1990, when Burton Anderson’s Italian Wine Atlas was published in a short lived Mitchell Beazley series, Aosta was the first region you came to. I was intrigued. Later, on so many trips to Italy, it has been the first I’ve driven through. I’ve often stayed up in the Gran Paradiso National Park at an Auberge with (at that time) an excellent Italian wine list, but under its owner’s knowledge and tutelage, I soon gravitated away from Barolo and Brunello to the local wines. Over the years I guess I built up an above average appreciation of them, for we have seen so few in the UK that hardly any British wine writers have had much experience of them. But that is changing, and when Jancis commented on one via Twitter, in reply to a post by Jane Parkinson the other day, I thought maybe it’s time to pull my finger out.

Aosta is usually cited as Italy’s smallest wine region with somewhere around 1,000 hectares of vines, most up on high terraces. These vines, commonly pergola trained, are equally often cited as the highest in Europe, at between 900 to 1,300 metres for the Vin Blanc de Morgex et de la Salle (although the Swiss often claim that same prize for the vines above Visp in the Valais, those reach only 1,100m). What we do know is that Aosta (the town, the region and its vines) is surrounded by the highest peaks of the Alps, and from the north and west is only really accessible via the Mont Blanc and Grand Saint-Bernard Tunnels. All the regional sub-zones are located along the Dora Baltea River, which flows by the town, and if you enter the valley along the Autostrada which follows it you will miss the vines, along with some spectacularly perched castles, as you speed along the Aosta region’s fifty or so kilometres.

If you take the time to stop you will find the unspoilt valleys of the Gran Paradiso National Park, filled with wildlife (chamois and marmots especially) and more or less devoid of ski pylons. In Aosta itself, you will find abundant remnants of its Roman past, and along the route don’t forget to look out for those imposing castles like Fénis, Montjovet, Brusson, Sarre and Saint-Pierre, among many defending this essential trade and military route between France and the Italian states.

Aosta has a catch all DOC which, given how little wine is made from a diverse array of grape varieties, at least gives the region some sort of profile. But in truth, Aosta is better described through seven sub-zones. The furthest west of these, nearly as far west as Courmayeur, is Vin Blanc de Morgex et de la Salle, made from a regional variety also called Blanc de Morgex, or Prié Blanc in local dialect. This is a wine I was famously mocked for elsewhere when I described it as tasting like licking a rounded pebble from a cold glacial stream. But in my defence, I’ve tried that taste test for real in the Valgrisenche, on a short trek up to the refuge there.

Close to Morgex, travelling eastwards, comes the little village of Arvier with its ancient stone houses, twisting medieval streets, and Roman bridge. You will often read that the wine made (mainly) from the Petit Rouge grape variety, Enfer d’Arvier, is the region’s best red. That is in my view outdated, and you will find more interesting reds along the river. But that’s not to discount the wine’s appeal if you have never tried it.

Torrette, around the communes of Sarre, Saint-Pierre, Introd and Aymavilles, is capable of some very attractive wines today. Again, Petit Rouge is the mainstay variety, but there’s Dolcetto, Pinot Noir, Gamay, Gros Rouge and Fumin, along with other local relics. Fumin is especially worthy of exploration as a single variety, capable of making long lived reds of medium weight.

To the east of Aosta itself we find the sub-zones of Nus and Chambave. Although you can find decent red wine here, the two villages are more famous for their sweet wines, by no means the only dessert style wines benefiting from the alpine sunshine, shelter, and surprisingly low rainfall (averaging 500-600ml/year in the valley). Nus has Malvoisie Flétri, made from Pinot Gris/Griggio, whilst Chambave has Moscato Passito. Both are vinified from semidried grapes, flétri being the local francophone dialect word for the more common Italian passito.

After Chambave, the Dora Baltea river and the Autostrada which follows it, turn southeast, towards Piemonte. The two remaining sub-zones fit into the broadening valley here. First is Arnad-Montjovet, and then, by the regional border, Donnas/Donnaz (known widely by both its French dialect and Italian names). Nebbiolo is, perhaps not unsurprisingly, the red grape of choice here, often going under its local name, Picutener. I’ll be honest and tell you that I’ve had very few Arnads, but I’m quite a fan of Donnas. These wines are lighter than those of the Piemontese zones around Barolo (Carema is just over that border), and they can also be leaner. But the wine I will be recommending below is capable of long ageing and shows off the potential delicacy of Nebbiolo when it is on form.

It’s probably a good time to recommend some producers, and their wines. Although I said at the beginning of this article that we see few of the wines of Aosta in foreign markets, small independent wine merchants, who can accommodate a few intriguing cases in their stores, are starting to catch on to the fact that the region’s best winemakers do crave some international recognition for what can be very attractive, and in some cases world class, wines.

I shall keep this list of recommended producers relatively short, so don’t think there are not many other names to check out. Keep an eye out for the Gambero Rosso wine awards each year – the Aostan section is of necessity small, but a good pointer to the best addresses.

Cave de Morgex et de la Salle – The Blanc de Morgex of choice is the Cuvée Rayon here. Along with the wet pebble, look for hay, herbs and stone fruit…but mainly stone. A pale wine, like Evian but more interesting (and alcoholic). The Cave’s Cuvée “Vini Estremi” does what it says on the bottle. Interesting, but more extreme. They also make a very worthwhile sweet wine from the same grape variety, a vin de glace called Chaude Lune, if you can find it.

Cantina di Barro – One of the first producers of Aostan reds that I began getting to know in detail. Their estate sits on the slopes above Villeneuve, and they produce several cuvées of Cru Torrette, including two Superiore (Clos du Chateau Feuillet and Vigni di Torrette). The main variety is Petit Rouge, with the addition of a multitude of both the familiar and unfamiliar: Mayolet, Vien de Nus, Fumin, Cornalin (of Swiss Valais fame) and Neblou. Even better, perhaps, is Di Barro’s Fumin. With more body than Petit Rouge, or Mayolet, it is often likened to Syrah. As with Trousseau in Jura, Mondeuse in Savoie, or perhaps Cornalin and Humagne Rouge over the border in Switzerland, Fumin is a truly distinctive regional grape of quality, in the right hands.

Les Crêtes – On the international stage it is arguable that Les Crêtes, founded by Costantino Charrère with other local partners, is pre-eminent in Aostan viticulture. This producer saved many of the local varieties from extinction, but also makes a famous Chardonnay, an estate which combines tradition and innovation. At 25 hectares in production, this is also the largest private wine estate in the province. My choices here, two whites and a red: Chardonnay “Frissonnière” Cuvée Bois (a perennial Gambero Rosso Tre Bicchieri Winner), the Petite Arvine “Champorette” (as good as almost any version you will find in Switzerland’s nearby Valais) and the Fumin “Vigne La Tour“.

Lo Triolet – A good range topped by a famous Pinot Gris, which comes with or without oak. Another wine you’ll find every year in many of the Italian wine awards.

Elio Ottin – The subject of the Tweets which prompted this article was Ottin’s excellent Pinot Noir, but he’s even better known for his Petite Arvine.

Anselmet – This house has vines from Torrette to Chambave, but is well known for varietal Fumin and Torrette Superiore. Good wines if you find them locally. Their Pinot Noir “Semel Pater” 2013 won a Gambero Rosso Three Glass Award for 2016, but I’ve not tried this wine.

La Crotta di Vegneron – This co-operative makes a wide range of wines, about 200,000 bottles per year, and has around 70 members . But they make the most accessible versions of the excellent sweet wines mentioned above, the Nus Malvoisie and the Chambave Moscato from semidried grapes. I’ve had Moscatos which have been aged for a decade and more, and they are concentrated, brown, wines, more like a passito from Pantelleria, off Sicily, than anything you might find in the Alto Monferrato an hour or two further south. They are open to visitors at Chambave.

The Cave des Onze Communes (you can certainly get away with using your French in Aoste) is at Aymavilles, at the start of the Val di Cogne, which is the most spectacular (but also most popular with tourists) valley of the Gran Paradiso, narrow in its lower reaches, but broadening towards Cogne, the main village surrounded by rising meadows and glacier encrusted mountain peaks. The Cave, in its own way, has quite a spectacular hillside setting, its modern building set off by the spruced up castle opposite. This co-op makes another wide range of wines, including possibly the best value, cheap, Pinot Noir in the valley…in a good vintage, along with a good Fumin, both aged in barricati.

Cave Coop de Donnas – This is the place to come for a different experience with Nebbiolo. They make a range, many with a label depicting the famous arch on the old Roman road which Napoleon followed on his return to France from Elba in 1815. The best of these is the Cuvée Napoléon itself, a selection, aged for 12-18 months in assorted wood. It’s so cheap you really can’t go wrong.

On the Tourist Trail

There’s a lot to do in the valley, or should I say valleys, including spectacular walking, from easy to extreme. For an easy day trek, start beyond the dam in Bonne, at the end of the lake, above the village of Valgrisenche in the valley of the same name, and walk up to the Rifugio Bezzi. You can get food there in the summer and walk back in less than a day, or you can climb higher to the other refuges which ring the Gran Paradiso. It’s not a long walk, but you will notice the altitude (just under 2,300m), so take care.

Visit some castles. Some prefer Sarre, others Fénis. The latter is a fairy tale medieval edifice, the former a hunting lodge of Vittorio Emanuele II. There’s a funny story that VE wanted to buy the castle at Aymavilles, the one near the cooperative, opposite, but his agent went and bought the wrong one. Both Sarre and Fénis are open to visitors, but there are many more castles, keeps and towers, including a large number of ruins of all sizes, which you will stumble across if you spend a few days in the region.

Spend a day, or at least a morning, in Aosta. The centre of town is the Place Chanoux. North of here is the Cathedral (the inside is much older than the facade) and the Archeological Museum. Walking east from the Place, you will pass the medieval Torre Fromage and through the Roman Porta Prettoria, and it is just north of here where you will find the ruined Roman theatre. At the far end of the Via Sant’ Anselmo you’ll find the Arco di Augusto and the Roman bridge. But in between, don’t miss the churches of San Lorenzo and Sant’ Orso. The latter has 10th Century frescoes (if you can gain access up there to the walkways), and a very attractive small romanesque cloister.

There are plenty of decent restaurants in Aosta, and wine shops too. But another place to look out for in the region is one of the branches of the local produce stores, Pain de Coucou. The store above Saint-Pierre (you’ll need a map but they have a web site) is the best stocked with local meats, cheeses, wines (mainly from the cooperatives, but a good selection from those mentioned above) and grappas (the grappa di mirtilli is worth checking out).

Fontina – this cheese has been devalued in its industrial version, yet the genuine mountain version, made from Valdostana cows, and made from a single milking, ranks alongside the famous French hard Alpine cheeses for flavour, being sweet and fruity but quite strong. It’s also a chewy cheese not dissimilar in some respects to Abondance. Good for fondue too, and it goes well with the local red wines, including Pinot Noir.

Posted in Aosta, Italian Wine | Tagged Anselmet, Aosta, Arnad-Montjovet, Blanc de Morgex, Cantina di Barro, Cave Coop de Donnas, Cave de Morgex, Cave des Onze Communes, Chambave, Chambave Moscato Passito, Donnas, Donnaz, Elio Ottin, Enfer d'Arvier, La Crotta di Vegneron, Les Cretes, Lo Triolet, Malvoisie Fletri, Nus, Torrette, Val d'Aoste | 4 Comments

American Oddities (June 2016)

Posted on 12/06/2016 by dccrossley

Every so often we go for a themed version of Oddities. It keeps everyone on their toes. Although more and more of us are buying American wines, which are much better represented in the UK than they were even five years ago, many said they had found it quite difficult to find much that was very odd. But they made a great effort. Surprisingly we only saw three South Americans, one example being badly corked, and all were from Chile (no Argentina!). But the north yielded some diversity with Canadian wines from two Niagara micro climates, Willamette, Yakima and Columbia Valleys in Oregon and Washington States, and of course California. It was the latter which stole the show overall with, I think, most people’s top three or four wines on the day.

Mariposa Vineyard Arvine 2014, White Heron Cellars, Columbia Valley, Washington State – A very rare sighting of this Swiss/Aostan native (though not of the Petite variety in this case). Lemon sherbet to the fore, a nice racy white with a little less breadth than you might find in the Valais. I thought this was quite delicious, though not a complex wine. I think I heard $12 mentioned and if that’s right, it would be a remarkable bargain (a few wines came back across the Atlantic in a suitcase).

Trousseau Gris 2014, Wind Gap, Russian River CA – Slightly broader with a waxy texture, possibly a little skin contact, but something a little steely about it, almost Riesling but not on the aromatic side. What could this be? Well, having drunk it and written about it a week ago, I felt a little silly not to spot this. As I said in that roundup of recent wines, this is no relation to Trousseau Noir, Jura’s darkest hued native variety. It used to go by the synonym Gray (sic) Riesling in California, and was widely planted before being grubbed up in all but a few old vine locations. But a surprisingly decent number of producers are making one now, probably due to Jura’s fashionability (though I’ve not seen Trousseau Gris even in the vine repositories I’ve visited there). Still, for all that, this is enjoyable if not profound. I think I like this wine more than many.

Johan Vineyards Grüner Veltliner 2013, Willamette Valley – Another major fail in identifying this wine on a table with several WSET Diploma holders and a MW candidate. I jest, yet when this was revealed it was so obviously full of white pepper. We just weren’t expecting GV from the Americas. A clean, fresh, and perhaps over-typical example, pretty decent though.

Boushey Vineyard Grenache Blanc 2014, Two Vintners, Yakima Valley, WA – If Willamette Valley is a drive south of Portland, Oregon, Yakima Valley is to that city’s northeast, in the State of Washington. This Grenache, which actually has 7% Roussanne blended in, is another unusual variety for this far north in the US, a variety we are more likely to know from the South of France. Its production is tiny, a mere 310 cases. It manages to keep a little of its typicity up here. It’s not as cool as one might think, being between Bordeaux and Burgundy in latitude with a continental climate. Syrah is becoming a favoured red variety. So you can imagine that although this was a decent effort, it was a little on the lean side despite over 13% alcohol. But Grenache Blanc is capable of producing better wines than we occasionally give credit for and I’d happily drink a bottle of this, if not buy a case.

Chardonnay Musqué 2013, Cave Spring Vineyards, Beamsville Bench, Niagara – Canada gets a first look-in with a wine from the increasingly high profile Niagara Escarpment’s Beamsville Bench. Most of the Niagara terrain is glacial deposits but there’s a fair amount of chalky soils on the benches too. Ice Wine used to rule. Now, Pinot Noir and Riesling are gaining a following for dry wines, but this Chardonnay variant is a rarity. Summers are warm here, largely due to Lake Ontario’s influence, and the movement of the airstream around the falls. So ripeness is rarely a problem. That said, Chardonnay Musqué does make for an unusual wine. I guessed some kind of Muscat, and there was a hint of it, but on reveal, this did have some cool climate Chardonnay characteristics too. Perhaps an oddity in several senses, but I enjoyed trying it. One or two didn’t like it but, as is often my take, I’d quite like to try a whole bottle, giving it a little more focus.

Steverjan 2014, Scholium Project, Rocky Hill Vineyard, Sonoma Mountain – This was my offering, and was (as I suspected) nailed on mere sight by Mr Rogers opposite me. This is Abe Schoener’s skin contact Pinot Grigio, a sort of mix on the palate between a pink, an orange wine and a white (in that order). It combines an almost fruit juice like texture with a subtle complexity. It’s one of Schoner’s least expensive wines (around £28 retail, I think), but one you can drink all day. Most found it delicious, certainly a top three placing. The name – the town where Gravner and Radikon make wine, what else!

Vineland Pinot Meunier 2011, Niagara Escarpment – Another Niagara wine, this fooled everyone, largely because it appeared older than it was, and because it was so “obviously”, to a few of us, a well aged Pinot Noir, although there might have been the odd shout for Virginia. Again, an unusual grape in an unusual location fooled us all, but on being told it was PM it seemed to make sense. I’m guessing it was planted on the Escarpment for its famous frost resistance, although frosts don’t appear to be as bad as one might think up there, with all that moving water and offshore breeze. Fascinating stuff, and it’s impossible to thank people enough for trawling New York wine stores just to bring things like this back for us to try.

Pleiades XXI, Sean Thackrey, California – No more specific designation, Thackrey has crafted wonder blends from old vines in his Bolinas base for a few decades with just a cult following. My first ever Pleiades preceded the numbering system, bottled in 1995. XXI was bottled in 2011, and consists of Sangiovese, Viognier, Pinot Noir, Syrah, Mourvèdre and Marsanne, to name just some varieties. I thought I spotted Sangiovese (tick) and Nebbiolo (big cross). A wonderful wine, which hid the labelled 14.9% alcohol very well indeed. Complex, savoury and majestic, this was almost unanimously wine of the day.

Pistolero 2011, Viña Raab, Quilpué, Chile – Quilpué is a town about 10km inland from Valparaiso, on the cost just north of Santiago. It sits just south of the warm Aconcagua Valley, and Christophe Beau probably has no difficulty achieving the 14% alcohol on this unusual blend of Merlot and Pinot Noir. This is a well made, tasty wine from organic fruit and quite an interesting blend (I’ve had Pinot blended with Shiraz from Victoria and The Hunter Valley, but not with Merlot). But as Joel said, how was it going to follow the Thackrey? It did suffer a little in the attention it got as a result of that.

Unofuera 1994, Maipo, Chile – This old gem was the product of a collaboration between the late Paul Pontallier (Ch Margaux) and Bruno Prats (Cos d’Estournel) back in the days when Chile was wine’s wild frontier. Hard to think that this cost £4.99 at Oddbins back in the day. 100% Cabernet Sauvignon from a large (25ha) vineyard in the region, close to Santiago, where the Chilean wine story began. If only it were possible to buy a wine like this for £4.99 today (well, an Argentine Malbec costing under £5 at Asda has reputedly just won a Decanter Trophy in the 2016 DWWA, so we shall see). Needless to say, the Bordeaux pair didn’t mean to craft a £5 wine, and its subsequent incarnation went on to claim a better price. A momentary bargain which we were privileged to drink on Friday. If a 1980s minor Cru-Classé from Bordeaux were still holding up well, it might taste similar to this.

Viejas Tinajas Cinsault 2014, Secano DO, De Martino, Chile – Sadly, this was horribly corked. A great shame as there’s no reason why this relatively inexpensive wine, which I have enjoyed a couple of times over the past twelve months, couldn’t have been sealed under stelvin/screw cap.

Johannisberg Late Harvest Riesling 1978, Belle Terre Vineyard, Chateau St-Jean, Alexander Valley, Sonoma CA – Once a speciality of once famous Chateau St-Jean, this wonderful old brown wine showed lovely complexity, a rum-like smoothness, and a scent worthy of any old Mosel, except that this is an almost unique style. It has more in common with Rutherglen stickies in some ways, but with a mere 10.3% alcohol on the label. Words fail really, you just wish you had a case (the man who brought it did, once). Another close WOTD contender.

Zinfandel Port 1988, Christian Brothers, Napa Valley – The Christian Brothers winery is famous in the annals of Napa. Founded in 1882, there’s a tiny connection between this winery and Chateau St-Jean. When Japanese drinks giant, Suntory, bought St-Jean in around 1984, it was, at $40 million, the most paid for a Californian winery at the time. Christian Brothers was bought by then UK drinks giant, Grand Metropolitan in 1989 for a seemingly remarkable $150 million (estimated). Where are they now? This 1988 “Cali-Port” was the last vintage made by the famous winemaking monk, Brother Timothy. But aside from its historical significance, it’s a smooth and alcoholic example of a disappearing genre. In the rush to escape Napa’s high alcohol reputation, it would be a shame to see little (well, maybe little is a poor choice of word) gems like this disappear, a wine of another time and place.

Rochelle’s generosity extended beyond the most amazing chicken (I completely forgot to ask where they sourced it from) to the most enormous hunks of three English cheeses (it broke more than one heart that we couldn’t finish them, and there were ten of us), and an Eton Mess variant dessert. It gave a couple of generous attendees a chance to open these two beauties, off theme but so enjoyable…

Here are a few pics from the Canteen…

…and what we drank for afters at Winemakers Club…

Oddities lunches take place approximately every two months at Rochelle Canteen in Shoreditch. They are open to all, but they are first announced on Tom Cannavan’s Winepages site, on the wine forum. If you would like to come to a future event (there is no charge other than for food, usually up to £60 with a tip, and the bottle you bring), sign up there and keep your eyes open.

Posted in Oddities lunches, Wine Tastings | Tagged AA Badenhorst, Arvine, Brak-Kuil Barbarossa, Cave Spring Chardonnay Musqué, Ch St-Jean Johannisberg Riesling, Christian Brothers Zinfandel Port, De Martino, Johan Vineyards, Labet Chardonnay, Oddities, Pietradolce Barbagalli, Pleiades XXI, Rochelle Canteen, Scholium Project Steverjan, Sean Thackrey, Trousseau Gris, Two Vintners Grenache Blanc, Unofuera Cabernet 1994, Viña Raab Pistolero, Viejas Tinajas Cinsault, Vineland Pinot Meunier, White Heron Cellars, Wind Gap | 1 Comment

Now We Have Sunshine (Recent Wines)

Posted on 08/06/2016 by dccrossley

There’s something about a spell of sunny weather that makes me want to drink more wine. Something to do with long evenings and tables out in the garden. I thought I’d share a few recent bottles that seemed to fit the bill really well.

We have an Oddities Lunch again this Friday, and it’s devoted to The Americas this time. I could quite easily have taken the first wine here, Wind Gap Trousseau Gris 2013, Russian River Valley. This is a white with a tiny touch of skin colour. I’d been warned this needed drinking up, but it was a good bottle, fresh on the nose, with a waxy lemon palate, with fresh but not sharp acidity. This unusual variety is almost unknown in Jura, where it is not related to the region’s Trousseau Noir. In California it was known as Gray (sic) Riesling before Jura became fashionable, and most was pulled up. This wine is quite neutral, like some Southern French whites, but it does have some character, and a good reputation. And it does work in the garden.

Stockists: Try Roberson

Du Grappin Beaujolais-Villages 1.5 litre #bagnum. This is Andrew and Emma Nielsen’s version of their Beaujolais-Villages in a bag. There’s no vintage on it, so not sure how that works, but as I bought it very recently it may be the 2015 I tasted at Raw Wine? Anyway, it’s a cracking bag of wine, not just a carbon footprint-reducing packaging format. Perfect for picnics and festivals, but this cherry cola was glugged in our back garden on the warmest evening of the year so far. These bagnums are highly recommended – there’s a Macon-Villages white, and a pink as well. The best thing is that they can be combined with other wines over several days (they are supposed to keep fresh for a couple of weeks, but surely no one will keep away from them for that long?).

Widely available at independents or direct from Le Grappin at their London market locations, or via mail order. Mine came from Solent Cellar

Champagne Ulysse Collin Blanc de Blancs Extra Brut “Les Perrières”. NV, but based on 2009 fruit, disgorged 07-03-2013, therefore with three years’ pda. It’s all Chardonnay, from Olivier Collin’s holdings around Congy. It’s not the most famous terroir in Champagne, but Collin is gearing up towards stardom and makes a very fine bottle, albeit already pushing beyond the prices charged by some quite good growers. Some say Extra Brut doesn’t age well. This has some maturity, but underneath a mineral, almost steely, structure. If you don’t like your Champagne to be at all bracing, this may not be for you. If you want to slake a thirst in the heat, with something which will then accompany food, then give it a go…if the price isn’t too shocking.

This bottle was purchased in Epernay at a good £10 cheaper than UK prices, but I have previously purchased Olivier Collin’s wines from Selfridges. The link is to a slightly different BdeB cuvée. North American readers may have a wider choice.

Almost the antithesis of Champagne is the fun concept of the pét-nat. It’s a style I love for its lively simplicity. The Loire, Jura and Austria are increasingly good sources of these wines, along with Southern France. This bottle, Domaine des Bodines Red Bulles, is made by a young couple, Alexis and Emilie Porteret, at their tiny domaine on the edge of Arbois. I love all the Bodines wines I’ve tried. Alexis did a stint at Domaine de la Tournelle, so he’s been well taught, and shares the philosophy of the Clairets – one I would describe as kindness to everything. Red Bulles is a sparkling Poulsard of unusual fruitiness and a wonderful vibrant pink colour. Bulles translates as bubbles (but, you knew that), so the pun is humorous, but I feel more invigorated by this than by any energy drink.

Purchased in situ, I’m afraid. You might have to go to Arbois for these wines, though I’m sure someone will let me know if I’m wrong. Certainly Californian readers will be able to call the excellent Selection Massale in San Leandro (or via their NYC and Chicago sales people).

Fabien Jouves “You Fuck My Wine” is a result of that old chestnut, the appellation regulations blocking certain grape varieties, in this case, Jurançon Noir. Fabien makes very terroir specific Cahors, but this wine is released as a Vin de France. It’s sappy, brambly, with crunchy fruit. Someone told me they thought this tasted like Malbec anyway, but not the sort of South American Malbec we have come to know. This has just 10.5% alcohol. I love it, and like the label, it’s a fun wine. But not as rebellious (in a good way) as the name might suggest, so it won’t frighten those unsure about natural wines. Jouves was all set to become a doctor before he turned to winemaking as a career. His 20+ hectares are biodynamic, and he seems to apply the sensibilities of a caring physician to his chosen path.

This one’s easier to find in the UK. The Sampler often stock a good range of Fabien’s wines and got a new delivery not all that long ago.

I visited Heidi Schröck at her winery in Rust last May, but I’ve enjoyed her wines for several years, currently via her importer, Alpine Wines. For some reason I’ve had a bit of a Heidi blitz in the past couple of weeks. I drank the very refreshing Blaufränkisch Kulm 2012, her fruity, dry, Gelber Muskateller 2013, and the concentrated yellow-gold Pinot Blanc Beerenauslese 2008. Heidi makes a variety of wines from her ten-or-so hectares, and she’s probably best known for her sweet wines. But I love the reds too. This Blaufränkisch is made from vines planted in the 1950s and it combines depth with really lively dark cherry fruit. She’s another winemaker who oozes warmth, both for visitors and for her wines.

As I said above, Alpine Wines bring in Heidi’s wines, for which I am very grateful. Rust is a long drive!

Argile Rouge 2011, Domaine des Ardoisières is a Vin des Allobroges St-Pierre de Soucy, made by Brice Omont near Freterive, on the Combe between Chambéry and Albertville. This IGT designation used to be called Vin de Pays des Allobroges and I first came across its wines in the very early 2000s. I think it was a co-operative wine, which I bought near Evian. Anyway, it was tart and acidic enough to remember it well. But Brice Omont unquestionably makes some of the best wines in Savoie today. This red is made from 80% Gamay (de Chautagne) and 20% Persan. Gamay with bite is how I’d describe it, or just a damned good wine.

Vine Trail in Bristol bring in Brice Omont’s white and red Argile, along with his top white, “Schiste”. This bottle came from Solent Cellar, but I’m not sure they have any left?

It may be a little bit past spring, but I’m throwing this wine in at the end as we drank it at the end of May, when “Beaujolais Season” in our house usually hits full stride. Yvon Métras Fleurie “Le Printemps” 2013 is cherry red in colour, cherry scented and it tastes of cherries too, simple as that. Though it’s not simple to craft such a delicious wine, where the fruit bursts on the tip of the tongue and again on the back of the palate. Essence of Beaujolais, and delicious.

This Métras Fleurie was procured in one of Paris’s natural wine shops, though I can’t rightly say which one because on my trip there last summer I did buy rather a lot of Beaujolais.

Posted in Austrian Wine, Beaujolais, Champagne, Jura, Natural Wine, Rust, Wine Agencies | Tagged #Bagnums, Alexis Porteret, Brice Omont, Domaine des Ardoisières, Domaine des Bodines, Du Grappin, Emilie Porteret, Fabien Jouves, Heidi Schrock, Jurançon Noir, Olivier Collin, pét-nat, Red Bulles, Rust, St-Pierre-de-Soucy, Summer Wines, Trousseau Gris, Ulysse Collin, Vin des Allobroges, Wind Gap, You Fuck My Wine | 6 Comments

David Crossley's Wide World of Wine

Bicycle, Bicycle,…

A Sporting Chance

Keeping My Chinato Up

Working Up a Genuine Thirst

Five Men, Seven Wines, Typical Tuesday

More Than Just Cordial

Refresher Course

A Toast to Aosta

American Oddities (June 2016)

Now We Have Sunshine (Recent Wines)

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