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Wednesday, December 14, 2011

The Ethics Game - an even playing field?

So what makes an ethical wine? Consumers have always made decisions between convenience, cost and quality. Nowadays additional decisions based upon environmental and human impact also have to be made. When buying wine, an Organic, Fairtrade or Carbon Neutral label implies that an ethical purchase is being made. Have these seemingly helpful simplifications impaired our ability to think about the bigger picture?

In terms of ethical wine drinking, there needs to be a debate that takes in to account all adverse effects on the planet: overuse of harmful chemicals, the pollution caused by the manufacture and transportation of wine as well as the effect the wine trade has on its workers and consumers.

Routine use of harmful chemicals coupled with damaging transportation costs are well-known. When rightly concerned about the environment, which issue should be the primary focus? From a consumer perspective, which should be chosen? An Organic Carmenère travelling from Chile or a non-organic Rioja travelling from Spain? Freight miles or chemical control, which is more destructive?

It is immoral for a consumer to intentionally choose an ethical wine, only to inadvertently damage the environment, yet with no worldwide ethical standard to measure up to; consumers are still left unintentionally in the dark.

Organics – is the grass always greener?

A gap in the Organic argument is that the laws that certify an Organic wine only affect the grape-growing process. Organic practices do not have to be followed once the grapes are in the winery.

There is room to manoeuvre; minimal additives such as yeast, malolactic bacteria and sulphur are regularly added to organic grapes to create a stable and harmonious product. Beyond this, the creation of an organic wine can range from back-garden accidental winemaking to a mass-market factory-clean process. Is this breadth of process clearly understood by the consumer?

We all appreciate that wine regions around the world have unique climates. A purist would claim that organic practices are possible anywhere and everywhere. However many winemakers hold the staunch opinion that it is impossible and impractical to grow organically every year: to them, the purist proposal smacks of naivety. Even the most diligent organic winemakers testify to losing whole crops in a matter of days. In the search of a truly ethical wine, is Organic viticulture an unachievable goal?

The expectation of an Organic stamp represents a general principle of environmental concern. Eco-friendly closures and minimal chemical intervention are the least we should expect from for a winery that aggressively promotes itself as ethical. Are organic winemakers duping and wilfully deceiving their loyal customers or simply not providing them with the full story? Both are unacceptable but one hopes the latter is true.

How fair is Fairtrade?

With world wealth shifting and Europe in the midst of a crippling recession, should our values change on where we should spend our money? As a nation we have historically taken pride in supporting poor farmers abroad, and the thriving Fairtrade brand is a testament to this. With winemakers struggling across Europe, should we not pledge some allegiance to our closest neighbours? Fair wages are fair wages, and with E.U. law as strict as it is, European wine is surely entitled to some form of fair trade recognition.

Wine is a global product and so it is prudent to think about its impact globally. It is easy to have an “us and them” mindset with regard to fair trade and fair pay, but the reality is that there is no “us and them” any more, there is simply fair and unfair. To select only wines from developing countries in the name of ethics is a fool’s paradise, the carbon emissions arising from transportation should alone be enough to stop and take note. This is certainly not a two-fingered salute to developing countries; it just raises awareness that a Fairtrade badge may compromise other ethical issues.

Carbon Neutral or Carbon Copy?


Carbon neutrality is one of the new, cool and trendy ways to be environmentally friendly. It boasts an eye-catching logo and has become the final cherry on top of the cake for those looking for an ethical wine. The theory goes that CO2 emissions created in the business are offset: this is usually done by the planting of trees or the conservation of mature woodland. It certainly gives the impression that everyone is a winner.

The virtuous image of the Carbon Neutral Program leaves itself open to broad interpretation. Producers may offset their carbon emissions but may choose not to divulge their use of chemicals. Has the Carbon Neutral Program simply jumped upon the bandwagon of Fairtrade and Organics in the hope of replicating their success in the marketplace?

The predicament is the impression the logo holds: consumers often mistakenly believe that a carbon-neutral wine is completely eco-friendly but, in effect, there is no requirement to conform to any other environmental standards.

Now, in 2011, rumours are circulating of carbon neutral certified wineries in New Zealand using helicopters to push hot air down into their vines. Planting more trees simply does not justify wasteful and irresponsible behaviour.

Faux eco-friendly marketing is an ugly way to sell wine, consumers should be able to have absolute confidence that any winery sporting an environmental credential must act in a way that always cares for the environment, in all aspects of its business.

Is it a question too complicated to answer?


It is clear that each ethical directive can only be taken upon its own merits. Unfortunately, the quick fix of picking up an ethical wine may require more insight than previously imagined.

Wine is not the only product to raise such questions. Think of an organic tomato that is grown in a heated greenhouse, or a British supermarket selling Fairtrade bananas but offering only poor working conditions to its own employees. Or locally grown fruit and vegetables shrink-wrapped to within an inch of their lives.

For too long concerns about over-consumption and the environment have been “someone else’s issue”. Now, the problem is resolutely at our doorstep and cannot be ignored any longer.

Eco-ethics – the big picture

The time for pragmatism is here, and a well-reasoned balance is the only way forward.
The last thing an ethical wine drinker wants to be is naive or to be called a hypocrite. They need to be empowered with accurate information in order to make an honest and well-rounded choice.

Combining the criteria set out by the ethical agencies to form a brand of eco-ethics would be solid progress: a brand featuring a numerical scale whereby the consumer would categorically know the ethical and ecological status of their wine.
It is all a question of accurate information, perspective and attitudes to the “big picture”. This initiative would push wineries and wine companies to consider all facets of environmental and human impact, not just those that come with a marketing-friendly logo.

In a world thirsty for scandal, any ugly side of an organisation will eventually be unearthed. The noble work achieved by these ethical organisations must not be overshadowed by the fundamental chinks in their armour. They must work together to create a unified and useful bank of information.

The consumer’s tolerance for misinformation is low. One only needs to look at the recent history regarding parliamentary expenses and the phone hacking scandal to understand that the general public are in no mood to be misled.

The ethics game is a long and arduous one, each player playing by different rules, being driven by different outlooks and motivations. The balance between these large-scale environmental concerns and those of a functioning business is fragile, a cohesive strategy must be set in place quickly and effectively before the ethics industry is caught out.

WSET Chablis masterclass



So my Chablis espionage trip to the WSET was a success, it was sponsored by Chablis itself hence the £25 price tag. Quite a nice tasting room, Gareth Morgan did a decent job at presenting, quite quick and informative for the real wine geeks with plenty of slides. So.....les vins....

Petit Chablis de Camu 09 £10
- Light pretty decent, honey, bit of grass. Worth checking out but I have preferred La Chablisienne or Vocoret Petit Chablis in the past.

Chablis Domaine Droin 09 £14 (uncorked) - Loads of oak and I really enjoyed, sweet nuts mixed with Riesling-like lime pith. Many thought the oak was (weird) but I thought it added length and concentration albeit in a TOWIE chav vajazzel shuuut up kinda way (check reference if unsure).

Chablis Domaine Jean Durup 09 £17 (Beaconsfield Wine Cellars)
- Nice, classic and concentrated. Didn't live up to the price tag.

Chablis Domaine Vocoret P cru Montmains 09 £14 (Majestic/Auchan in Macon) - Very good, classic, delineated, mineral-led length. Enjoyed a lot.

Chablis N et G Fevre P cru Mont de Milieu 09 £16 (Folly Cottage Wines) - The most concentrated in the mid-palate but slipped off quite quick. A high glycerol level and so some of the sharp acid was masked. Shame. Decent but a bit milky for the Chablis purists out there.

Chablis Domaine Brocard (magnum) 06 P Cru Butteaux (a climat in Montmains) (Henley Vintners £18 -. presume for 75cl)
- Everyone loved it -everyone but myself and a young French chappie next to me. It was too old. It had toffee caramel on the nose, with pear and red blousey apples on the palate. It wasn't serious enough to age with no oak/little and did not have the acidity to carry off the flavours, again malolactic-tastic and creamy.Think cream without the fat - yes. No evil grin for this wine. Had a debate with the room about it being washed out, they were arguing it was integrated.

Chablis Grand cru Grenouilles La Chablisienne 07 (Fine and Rare) £48
- It was bright and quite acidic which I enjoyed. Incredible concentration and classic and clean, apparently La Chab own the majority of this GC and are forming a new climat on the lower slope next to le Clos around Chateau Grenouilles.
It was long, concentrated, complex yet subtle but in a very classic way, lemon, lime and that unidentifiable thing that Chablis has - a mix between grass and an almost medicinal Semillon/Rousanne quality. Loved it -althought the room agreed that price compared to PC's and some Chablis' did not make this good value, but compared to GC white burg it wasn't bad. Ma and Pa, please try when at the winery on your way up after Xmas.

Chablis Grand cru Blanchot Domaine Laroche 07 (slurp.co.uk) £54
- In a word- No. The wine was good in general terms but not GC quality. From the Southerly facing GC so not the best aspect, just hanging on in my opinion. Not overly concentrated with some lemon, pea and asparagus if you like that sort of over-cropped Sauvignon funk. How many times has this producer been wishy washy? Ma and Pa.....this is the producer that used to be in the boiled trolley at ATAC under the sign "les vins marinade". Says it all really.

Best buys

Chablis Domaine Droin 09 £14 (uncorked)

Chablis Domaine Vocoret P cru Montmains 09 £14 (Majestic/Auchan in Macon)

Chablis Grand cru Grenouilles La Chablisienne 07 (Fine and Rare) £48 (would love to try 08)

So Chablis this xmas?? Any thoughts on the supermarket versions?

Saturday, November 27, 2010

My YWWA article


“Never in Vain, Always with Wine”

(The first in a series of articles reviewing European wine events.)

Jim Gore takes us on a tour of the 72nd annual celebration of Saint Vincent, the patron saint of vignerons, this year hosted by Chassagne-Montrachet.

3rd of January 2010. Day three into my Burgundy adventure. I’d been lured by the prospect of a wine‑fuelled adventure, but here I was, sitting in my parents’ icy kitchen wearing two pairs of pyjamas and drinking a strong cup of Earl Grey. I was at best, I reckoned, fifteen minutes from frostbite. If only the central‑heating system could pack out the same heat as my menopausal mother.

Thumbing through the local “journal” for flight offers back to Edinburgh, I happened upon an advert for a wine festival, in Chassagne-Montrachet. Maybe I could stick it out a little longer after all? The village, in the south of the Côte-de-Beaune, has more than 370 hectares of some of the most sought‑after terroir the world. Home to 400 people, the humble village contains three of the seven white grand crus.

This years’ theme was aroma: a terroir-driven theory that complex characteristics come from the most simple and essential components. Five unnamed winemakers produced five different cuvées of white Chassagne‑Montrachet from village and premier cru vines, each cuvée displaying a different aroma profile: citrus, white flowers, red fruit, forest floor and pâtisserie. The village itself would be split up into five “aroma quartiers” for the tasting.

On the morning of the celebration we woke to a blizzard. We skidded our way up to the Côte Chalonnais in our rattly Fiat Punto, snaking past the frozen canal that flows up past Santenay to the flat planes east of the villages of Meursault and Puligny-Montrachet. The tiny village of Chassagne-Montrachet sat unassuming and pearlescent in the winter sun.

Frost dusted the spire of the distant church, and vines, stark in their winter slumber, pinstriped the land surrounding the village. On a steep rise beyond the village lay the premier cru vineyards, a craggy tree‑covered knoll formed a rocky barrier between the communes of Saint‑Aubin and Chassagne-Montrachet. To the north were the south‑easterly‑facing grand crus Le Montrachet, Bâtard-Montrachet and Criots-Bâtard-Montrachet. It looked a scarred, alien, industrial landscape.

Buses hurtled into the village with Italian vigour. Two kilometers of cars veined the roads and tracks that encircled the village, parked at desperate angles, abutting the deep ditches separating the vineyards from the road. The Punto was abandoned, and we joined the frenzied flow towards the village’s heart.

We entered at “les aromes des fleurs blanches”, and paid 15 Euros at a ticket stall for six tasting tickets and an embossed Chassagne-Montrachet glass, surprisingly attached to a short rope. The device was an oenophile’s nosebag, the noose being placed around the neck, held the glass firmly in drinking position. Arms free, for full French gesticulation, we marched on, along an ancient cobbled street bathed in a carpet of white, handmade white paper roses cascaded out of plant pots, white grapevines entwined gateposts and a white papier-mâché horse stood centre stage a breathtaking Narnia wonderland.

The spell was broken by a rugby scrum of a bar jutting out rudely from the wall of a cave. Mother, being of sufficient height and gumption, took my glass and ticket and burrowed her way under the arms of the jostling crowd, to emerge mole-like and triumphant, chest height before the dispensing wine officials : “Deux blancs, Monsieur!” She dived under the sea of floating berets and, not a drop spilled, returned with her spoils.

The nose showed hazelnut, icing sugar, lemon, quince and fresh green pepper. The palate was tightly wound, with plenty of minerality. The wine opened up to a lush palate, the main hallmarks of which were lime, citrus skin and green apple. Upon warming further, a note of toffee appeared. Aromas of “fleurs blanches” were perhaps a push, but without doubt there was a crisp delicacy I had not encountered before in Chassagne-Montrachet.

On we trekked to join the long road leading along the premier cru vineyards of Les Rebichets and Clos Saint-Jean. Here was the start of “le quartier des fruits rouges”. Gargantuan strawberries, cherries and raspberries adorned every stone wall; perhaps the comic effect was deliberate. There was nothing for it but to send Mother in.

With glasses chiming like cow bells on our coat buttons, we headed up to the premier cru vineyards on the westerly edge of the commune to sample our wine.

Geranium, orange peel, yellow plum and a tiny hint of lemongrass jumped out on the nose. Again the palate was leaner than I had expected but with more oak than the previous wine. Rich flavours, but nowhere near as intense as “fleurs blanches”, though a welcome lick of honey on the finish did up its game.

We then passed through “Les Murées” to re-enter the southerly part of the village, “le quartier des agrumes”. Sunflowers, oranges, mandarins, limes, bananas and pineapples burst from buildings like an advert for Caribbean rum punch. TV crews were interviewing visitors to the festival, and an accordion tribute band, “Les Blues Brothers”, were in full swing.

Glass in hand, I rested myself on a giant upturned grape press containing metre­ long bananas and dived in. To my surprise, there was a big thwack of new oak, pineapple, light mango, cigar and tangerine. A hint of lychee was noted by Mother, possibly prompted by the giant papier‑mâché version on which she was sitting. The palate was a strange mix of warm chestnut liqueur and racy pineapple. Odd for a wine intended to show boundless citrus flavours to have been so heavily oaked. The theory goes that pineapple and other citrus aromas appear in a young Chassagne-Montrachet and then reappear later in its development. It certainly had the power of longevity, and no doubt the oak flavours will soften.

With Mother wilting after three large glasses of wine, we dragged ourselves up to the fourth “quartier” of “sous bois” or forest floor. We walked out of the village itself to the “terres rouges” soils to the south of the commune where most of the village red is produced. Here, the soils are more suited to Pinot Noir; they produce softer wines more akin to the neighbouring Santenay than the powerful wines of the northerly Côte-de-Nuits.

Just before we reached the enclave of Morgeot, I turned to my right. In the premier cru of “Les Champs Gain” was a man, not 20 metres into the vines and not 50 metres from the nearest toilet, doing what can only be described as illegal irrigation, hands clasped tightly behind his head. My outraged eyebrow firmly attached to the top of my forehead, I moved a gawping Mother on with the crowd, whizzing past giant toadstools, autumn leaves and golden vines until we arrived.

Mother deftly burrowed to the front of the wine queue once more, while I joined the queue for lunch. With the French appetite for nourishment at 12pm sharp, I had envisaged a speedy and efficient service: Merguez sausages all round. It did not occur to me that five out of the seven food servers would also elect to take their two‑hour lunch break at 12pm, leaving only two nonchalant staff to serve the hoards. The Frenchness was palpable, as was the near‑fainting queue. (Note to self : bring a “pique‑nique” next time.) Good job “sous bois” was still being poured.

We sat on a blustery rock and tucked in. Truffles, toffee, deep earth, burnt tangerines and light cinnamon on the nose. The palate was richer than the previous wines with even some wood tannin creeping in. The wine was long and luscious and even stood up to the aforementioned merguez baguette. My favourite of the day: earthy, rustic and yet very smooth, and it delivered hit after hit of flavour. You could say that the earlier wines had the delicacy and power of Puligny, but this had Chassagne stamped all over it.

It was now late afternoon, and squelching boots dictated that we moved swiftly on. A dreek scattering of snow started to descend upon the road leading away from Morgeot, and we sludged our way down to the 1960s hamlet just outside the ancient village, the busy N79 vibrating to our right. The small cul-de-sac on the outskirts of the vines had been chosen to emulate “les aromes des pâtisserie”, and it was our final destination. There was not the majesty or importance of the ancient village centre, and the drab troglodyte air of the place did nothing to help the aesthetics. Neither did the now soggy papier‑mâché bonbons and oversized polystyrene croissants that littered the front gardens.

On the nose there was butter, tarte tatin, peardrop and red apple skin. The palate was a mixture of crab apple, grapefruit, green pepper and a Sauvignon-like acidity. We were disappointed: it was a minor relative to the last four wines, lacking definition and character.

Our day here was over, and we could just make out the misty headlights of the cars streaming out of the village. We’d done a rough circuit of the commune already, and now decided in our marinated wisdom to go cross country. We stumbled over the edge of the vineyard plateau, nodding as politely as our neckwear would allow to the all‑knowing gendarmes, and began the icy skid towards the car. I belted on, leaving five‑foot Mother to slip into a concealed ditch, her glass thrust high like the torch of the Statue of Liberty. Smart woman. We were escorted home by a bemused, sober Father, who delighted in revving the car over the speed bumps in almost perfect synergy with Mother’s hiccups. Again, not a drop spilt.

The 73rd celebration of Saint Vincent will take place on 29/30th January 2011 at Corgoloin, a village just below the hill of Corton. Details at www.saint-vincent-corgoloin2011.com.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Young Wine Writer of The Year 2010 : I have been nominated!

Quick note to report that I have been shortlisted for the Young Wine Writer of The Year 2010. The competition is aimed at developing young wine writers trying to break in to the industry, we shall be travelling to Australia House in London where the winner will be announced.

I have checked out the wines from last year on http://www.youngwinewriter.com/ and I recognised a few wines from the corks, but the bottles are all turned around so I cannot quite make out the names of them all. I shall report back a week from today and let you know what was tried. I imagine the wines will all be from Australia as the event is partly sponsored by http://www.winesofaustralia.com/ so it will be a change from my usual Frenchie fayre.

I am very much looking forward to the event and shall report back who the winner is and a link to his/her piece.

Wish me luck!

Bon aperitif

Sunday, November 14, 2010

The Ying and Yang of wine drinking: persuasion or perversion?

An invitation had been issued for dinner at a friend’s house in order to meet her new boyfriend, and as a born-again greedy I had no hesitation in accepting. I whipped myself off to Morrisons to grab two bottles of chilled Taittinger that were on offer; a feisty choice I thought.

I arrived, was warmly greeted, and placed ONE chilled bottle on the coffee table. I was told that we would be having Rum and Coke as an aperitif, fine I thought, when in Rome and all that. I had no idea that the warming pint of weak beverage was to last the night through. Normally I would have been jokey and popped the Champagne straight away but for some reason I felt like I would be intruding.

I then sat through a most perverted food mix of red onion, garlic, seafood and melon cups (with added dressing) followed by fish/chicken avocado-coloured non-seasoned curry type thing. The pinnacle of the evening was an hour long rendition of show tunes played on an electric organ, mind-numbingly listened to, whilst watching the precipitating beads run down the table-top Champagne.

Not a culinary highlight I had to admit, but ho hum, I decided I would at least have a good drink and then make my excuses. The desiccated limes in my pint bobbing about like un-well slugs were not a sufficient enough hint for another drink. I had to take matters in to my own hands; after half an hour of talking about wine there was still no promise, it was only eventually when I insisted on looking at their NEW Champagne flutes that the penny dropped and the bottle popped.

Warm Taittinger with a lingering onion and seafood flavour was not one of my finest wine moments I had to admit, so I left to drink the other bottle with some other pals. The next morning I woke to a guilty dawning at my utter rudeness. I simply put my friendship behind that of wine and food. A shocking but sobering revelation that intrigued me. When did wine become that important to me? I guessed about three years earlier. I am still unsure whether I handled the situation correctly, I doubt it, maybe I shall find out at the wedding, or maybe not after reading this.

I am curious about wine etiquette amongst wine drinkers with regard to their friends, loved ones, co-workers and families. How do you ensure that you can drink something tasty at all times, or is that simply not possible? I surveyed wine drinkers, Sommeliers, wine industry workers and wine enthusiasts for the following reasons 1) I hoped never to be that rude again and 2) I REALLY hate drinking something tasteless and want to avoid it at all costs.
Here is what they said....

Q1: You go to someone’s for dinner, you know they drink “bad” wine. How do you ensure that at least you drink the bottle you have brought? What if they put your N.Z. Pinot/Gassac straight in the rack by the cooker?

All answers talked about manners and etiquette and fundamentally questioned the relationship with that person. If you do not know them well, unanimously the answer was to give the wine as a gift. You are there as a guest and so behave appropriately.

If however the hosts are close friends then being downright cheeky seemed a fair cop. Offering to help with the wine glasses and therefore the wine was a good suggestion; you will soon see whether this is appropriate. Bringing the wine open to “let it breathe” or “checking it was not corked” may be a push- but polite persuasion seemed to be the best tactic.

• Enthuse about wanting to try the wine with the host, proffer it as something that you have been saving to try with someone special, or lead the conversation to this “interesting wine” that you have brought and that you would love to try.

• Food combination: ring ahead and find out what sort of wine would go with dinner; thoughtful and more likely that it will be opened.

• Bring two bottles: hand one out as a gift and put one on the table to drink.

• Say, "This one is drinking well NOW!" emphasis on the now.

• Bring a white or bubbly CHILLED. Say that it is just to get us started.

Most surveyed also warned that you must be prepared for the whites to be forgotten in the fridge and for ANYTHING brought, to be seen as a gift. Many said it would be useful to "get it in to your head whether it is a wine night or a friend night," and to not put too much emphasis on what you are drinking. This is a great sentiment but almost impossible for me to achieve. I think I prefer the persuasive technique.

My favourite response was to bribe a family member to specifically ask for your wine over dinner. I will definitely try that one! Another tip is to take note if they squirrel away a good bottle and not to bring something so tasty next time.

Q2: If they are coming to you, how do you persuade them to bring something decent? Or not bother?

Again food matches were a common thought but be aware of prices, asking someone to being a Champagne is unacceptable yet gentle guidelines of good value food friendly wines are certainly acceptable, Spanish red or Chilean Merlot, whatever you think is a good wine.

It is important not to intimidate, particularly if they know you are a wine fan. You must not forget that wine might not hold as much significance to them as it does to you. Above all, be gracious and accept the gift. If they particularly enjoy the wine they brought, maybe top their glass up generously with it.

One response suggested pouring yourself another glass of the same colour wine from the kitchen. Sly but effective. A favourite comment was that a dinner party is about having a good time, a good-time Hardy or a good-time Grange. If you try stuff professionally, then just have fun. Obviously do not spend a fortune if your guest does not appreciate it as much as yourself. Wise words.

Q3: Ever hidden a bottle at the foot of the table between you and a pal?

Half said never and half said all the time.


Q4: You are in a restaurant and there are 15 of you, all but yourself are fine with the house wine, and you have already agreed to split the bill, what do you drink without making a scene?


This is apparently a simple one:-

• Drink beer
• Drink the house wine and don’t make a fuss
• Organise the restaurant yourself and go to a BYOB restaurant
• Pick something and pay for it upfront

Q5: You are on a date at a B.Y.O.B. restaurant and you have brought a bottle along that you have been saving and your date keeps topping up their glass and drinking at 10 times the speed of yourself. NO chat about the wine. Do you sit and take it or pour yourself a pint of it? Does it depend how good-looking they are?

Best answers so far,were a complete split. Some say if the date were super cute then they could have what they wanted. Some even suggested helping him/her along with their quest as it would make the transition back to their place a bit easier! One did suggest that, "All would be good on the date, " but with “behaviour like that, s/he would NOT be getting breakfast.”

Others of course thought that it was completely superficial and it made no difference how the date looked. They would lead the conversation towards the wine. Isn’t dating about getting to know each others likes and dislikes? Others suggested that bringing overtly fancy wines on a first date would be snobbish and arrogant. Or bring a decoy bottle! Unsure what that means, but assume it is a bottle to get your date buttered up before the “real” wine. Another hint is to get a glass of wine from the list and check the speed of the date’s drinking, and then fill your glass up appropriately.

Q6: Xmas, you have brought 6 bottles for 2 days, but because your family and friends know the wine is good, they just glug it down and leave you with their crap. How do you handle the situation? Mulled wine and Scotch?

Most people ranted on about Christmas being about friends and family and spending time together. Call me cynical but I thought it was about fighting, booze and indigestion? Or is that just in the North?

A common experience has been family members drinking the expensive wine for the sake of it and relishing telling people they don’t care about wine. I was right, festive arguments! Told you so! Some said it would be a schoolboy error to bring 6 bottles of good stuff, and that just 2 would do and then 4 gluggers. Everyone seemed to share the sentiment that you should separate the special bottles from the easy-drinkers. Sensible I suppose.

Others said that they would bring wine that the host would enjoy and then drink something that they would prefer when they returned home. How very big of you. Others would prefer to stick to spirits just to get those arguments going. Pictionary, whisky and brussel sprouts; a combination to avoid.

Q7: Does being polite leave you substantially out of pocket or do you simply only share nice wine with wine people?

Most agreed that this was getting to the issue. There is being polite and there is being un-wise; drink good wine with people who would appreciate it. Some said having a “house wine” of high quality and low cost; a wine that you do not mind sloshing out to guests yet also drinking yourself. Almost everyone agreed that at some point or another they are left out of pocket, but said that is the "nature of wine sharing" and that we should just count our blessings that the wine is so good nowadays.

So the crux of the issue is to: know your audience and have some back-up safe bets; that you are willing to drink, gin and tonic, beer, or just have the foresight to control the wine situation. This is the Ying and Yang of wine sharing. Sometimes you win and sometimes you lose. Isn’t that what knowing about wine is all about? Being able to pick wine appropriate for the situation?. Whatever your tact, good luck and I hope it is tasty!


Hope this has been helpful.


Bon aperitif

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Check out www.whitewine.co.uk

If you missed my Chardonnay article, check it out on the link below at whitewine.co.uk:-

http://www.whitewine.co.uk/articles/in-praise-of-chardonnay-or-don%e2%80%99t-forget-your-old-friends/


www.whitewine.co.uk is a great new website packed full of reviews and articles on everything white wine related: Specific articles on grapes variety, wine tastings, competitions, book reviews and even information about Brazilian wine! If white is not your bag then check out redwine.co.uk or follow on twitter @whiteandred or myself @burgundywineman.


Trust all is well and the drinks are flowing

Bon Aperitif

Monday, November 8, 2010

Half Price Champagne at Morrisons

Hi guys,


Simply the best Champagne deal of the year. The deal runs between 8-12 November and if last year is anything to go by then the best deals run out incredibly fast. Here are the prices:

Champagne Piper Heidsieck Brut NV – usually £26.29, on deal at £13.14 - a great fizz, simple and easy to drink. Often on deal in the major Supermarkets, not quite this low but almost.

Champagne Taittinger Brut Reserve NV – usually £33.82, on deal at £16.91 - A name to impress and a step above in quality compared to The Piper Heidsieck. Even the standard price is less than many other retailers so the deal price is an absolute steal. Will age well for a few years.

Champagne Heidsieck Vintage 2004 – usually £29.99, on deal at £14.99 - I have only tried the stunning 02 vintage of this house but this bottle would still be my best tip. You should expect a richer and nuttier style than the Taittinger or Piper (no relation) and would again age for a good five years. In short, get as many as you are able.

Champagne Lanson Black Label Brut NV – usually £29.49, on deal at £14.74 - Tasty but definitely the most commercial of the lot, slightly sweeter in style and creamy, a non-fuss Champagne which is well-made, if a bit dull.

Champagne Lanson Rose NV – usually £33.49, on deal at £16.74 - Never tried I am afraid, but Rose Champagne often has a premium on it so all in all if the non-vintage is anything to go by it is worth a shot. If not try the Drappier Rose at co-op, usually less than £20 at standard price.

There we go! Let me know how you get on.

Bon Aperitif