CJ is away this week...

...but will be back in a fortnight!

Wine: just add milk and sugar

There I am again, frozen in front of the Wall of Wine. And no, it’s not like a kid in a sweetshop, overwhelmed by the options because all of them are good. This is a grown-up in a supermarket, appalled by the options because most of them are bad.

Perhaps, by comparing wine to another product, I might find the key to conquering this absurd, bewildering choice. So two aisles along, I halt my trolley before the Wall of Cereals.

Breakfast cereals all do basically the same job. Go to someone else’s house, and if they put any one of them on the table, it might not be the one you’d choose yourself, but you’ll politely swallow it without demur. Like wines. Oat, wheat or corn? It’s like red, white or sparkling.

Up there are the expensive ones, which make you feel you’re moving up a social class; the Duchy Originals muesli (and the Champagne). And down there are the cheap basics; the Essential wine and the generically-branded cornflakes.

There's that name which has been around for generations now, which has years of experience and tradition and quality behind it, so of course it's a bit more expensive.

And oh, look! There’s that colourful character who’s always popping up and going on about how grrrrreat his product is, how different and better-tasting. And how he and his merry band all deliver this product, in a wonderful, almost magical way, which in no way involves conveyor belts or additives or stainless steel tanks. So you feel you just have to buy his cereal. Or is it wine?

You tell your child that cereal A is basically the same as cereal B. Don’t go by the name. You’re just paying for the name. And then you hear yourself telling your wife that wine A is better than wine B. Look at the name. That’s a name worth paying for.

No, you should not make your decision based on the free gift/special offer. But you do.

Yes, you should be comparing sugar content/alcoholic strength. But you don’t.

The only saving grace with the cereals is that the range of prices is nothing like as vast. You might conceivably spent three times as much on one cereal as on another. But imagine if one cereal cost £3, and another £30. If one cost ten times as much as another. Ridiculous, you laugh, as you weigh up a bottle of Basic red in one hand and a Barolo in the other.

Mind you, someone recently opened a cereal café in London, It serves a mind-boggling range of unusual brands from all over the world, all at frightening prices, which you can enjoy on their premises. And mark my words, they’ll be doing it with wines soon. They’ll call it a wine bar, or something.

In the end, it’s of little help. The problem of the Walls remains. But there’s one real benefit to keeping these two particular products in mind, and that’s to measure the state of your life. You see, you should start your day with cereal, and end it with wine. And you’ll know you’re in trouble when those two are the other way around.

PK

Romania!

So the wife turns to me one day and says, 'Romania! That's where we've got to go! Bucharest! It'll be great! And the wines! Think of the wines!'

I very definitely don't want to go to Romania, but my objections are so furious, diverse and incoherent that the first thing that comes out of my mouth is, 'I hate wines. I hate everything about them. Except the taste.'

She goes and looks up Bucharest ('The Paris of the East') on the Internet. It seems to be a big, not-very-well-off city, almost entirely physically ruined by the Ceauşescu regime and now consisting of huge martial avenues and despotic public architecture. So awful, in fact, that even my wife goes off the idea. I breathe a sigh of relief. Too soon: she's back with bad news.

'You can fly to Romania's second city, Cluj-Napoca, direct from Luton Airport!'

'There's no such place as Cluj-Napoca,' I say.

'It's in better shape than Bucharest! There are still parts of the old city! It would be fun!'

When she gets consumed by one of these manias, I generally stonewall for as long as possible while hoping that another, less destructive, enthusiasm will take its place. Which it quite often does; so often in fact, that I have unwillingly come to accept that the initial mania is only there as a feint, that it exists simply to get me to fall in with the second suggestion more willingly.

Still, I go as far as to look up Romanian wines. They tend to get lumped in with Bulgarian and Hungarian - some ultra-sweet Tokayish products, apparently - but, after a couple of decades of neglect, are starting to make a comeback with wines such as the Prince Stirbey Tamaioasa Romaneasca Sec ('Fluent, spring stream freshness' according to The Guardian) and Crâmpoşie Selecţionată ('A fresh and expressive bouquet of pear and green apple', Winerist). 'Waitrose,' I say, 'says it sells Romanian wines online, but none of them is actually Romanian when you look. What does that tell us?' I still very much don't want to go there.

A couple of days later, my brother-in-law, perversely ingenious, produces a brochure of Romanian package holidays, plus some off-putting fliers. Cluj-Napoca ('Treasure City of Transylvania') is mentioned. In fact it lists a trip you can take from Cluj, via the famous salt mines at Turda and the wooden church at Rogoz, to the traditional Romanian village of Breb, returning via Baia Sprie and an afternoon pottery class. Wine is not mentioned.

But there's more. What do you know, but Cluj-Napoca is a major health resort? 'Top class medical facilities, including dental, cosmetic surgery and medical rehabilitation clinics', according to the literature. Better yet, if you stay at the Grand Hotel Napoca on a special promotion you get a free dental check-up, a cosmetic surgery consulation and a 'tour of the facilities of the biggest rehabilitation hospital in Romania'. And wait: here's a whole two pages offering The Moldova Wine Experience. I make the mistake of mentioning it to my wife.

'It says here, you can visit the Milestii Mici Winery,' I say, reading the names out with the effortfulness of a child, 'followed by somewhere called Old Orhei, go on to the Cricova Winery - one of Europe's biggest underground wineries - before checking out the winery at Chateau Vartely - including the Ice Wine Experience - and the monastery at Curchi.'

'That's perfect.'

'I don't know why I told you about it. It's the opposite of what I meant to do. I meant not to tell you.'

She takes the brochure from me.

'It's a truly unique travel adventure,' she reads aloud, with conviction. 'It combines perfectly with other Romania-based experiences.'

'There are plenty of Romanians over here. Couldn't we just live among them for a weekend?'

'There's a problem. It doesn't mention Cluj-Napoca.'

'That's sad,' I say, trying hard to make it sound as if I care.

After a while, she stops mentioning Cluj-Napoca every three minutes. Then she says, 'Copenhagen!'

'Copenhagen is fine,' I reply, 'Copenhagen I can live with.'

CJ