One Damn Thing After Another: Pinot Noir

So No.1 Son and his girlfriend are coming round for supper, and I decide to get a bottle of something half-way respectable in an effort to impress them. Standing like an imbecile in Waitrose, I fall into the clutches of a bottle of Louis Latour Pinor Noir, copperplate writing on the front + cork, at 25% off what is presumably an initial price overinflated by 33%.

'That'll do the trick,' I say, allowing myself a 45% probability that actually, it won't.

And do you know what? I'm right. It is crummy: just a vapid red drink with a bit of lacquer on its breath. Startled and slightly ashamed, I drag out a screwtop Fitou to try and make amends to the young people whom I have let down.

'At least this tastes of something,' I announce sportively. Indeed: ink, a hint of liftshafts, blackberries, an extinguished barbeque, all the things you'd look for in a no-quality Fitou. Nobody much cares, though, by this stage. The empty Latour bottle sits there, fat, vain and friendless and I loathe it. Then I have another idea. A pal, recently travelling in Latvia, has brought back a very small bottle of something he can't account for, and kindly given it to us.

'It might be a liqueur,' he said at the time. 'Or cough mixture. They seem to like it in Riga.'

The Riga bottle, Riga Black Balsam it says in silver on a black label, itself stuck on a bottle made of black glass, is about the size of a single round of ammo. I forget to make a joke about the word noir. We all look at it seriously for a while, then each take a sip. And yes, it could be cough mixture, or a drink, if, like the late Malcolm Lowry, you're the kind of person who drains a whole bottle of olive oil under the mistaken impression that it's hair tonic and might contain alcohol. It's 30% by volume, it says so. Liquorice is in there somewhere. We experience it with a sense of sadness and some loss.

A day after that, no.2 Son comes round and makes off with the only dependable Waiter's Friend in the building. We now have no reliable means of getting a cork out of a bottle.

A couple of days after that, I try and drag myself out of the slough that seems to be deepening around me by acquiring a special-offer (screwtop) Hardy's Shiraz Rosé. Having already mentioned this fine winemaker in the last two weeks, I feel I'm on safe ground, in much the way I felt on safe ground with the imposing-looking Louis Latour.

'It'll cheer me up,' is what I think. But it too, turns out to be a failure - more than a failure, an eye-watering bubblegum and hairspray catastrophe. How can this be? Does the term safe ground mean nothing? I react to it so wildly even my wife notices.

'Not good?' she says without a trace of pity.

Salvation only arrives a few days after that, when some pals turn up, and what do they bring with them, but a bottle of the dreaded Pinot Noir - providentially with a screw top - only this time there is no Louis Latour tinsel about it. This one resides in a positively self-deprecating light green bottle from Wairau Cove, New Zealand, with an equally quiet label and the instruction that it goes well with pan-fried duck. Turns out that this is the stuff I should have been buying a week earlier: supple, structured, actually tastes of something. Probably cost the same as the Louis Latour, too, although I am so busy with furtive admiration it doesn't occur to me to ask.

New Zealand, eh? A country so far off my conceptual radar I usually forget it's there. And I'm never going to visit it, unless someone's prepared to fly me Club Class all the way because I mean, I just don't fit airline seats. It will have to remain an enigma, like Finnegans Wake or the enduring appeal of the Republican Party. My loss, I suppose.

CJ

Drinking wine in the House of Commons, Westminster

Another episode in a wine-fuelled passage which is putting the Stannah stairlift into social climbing. Having drunk wine at 10 Downing Street, and with the Archbishop of Canterbury,
it was my enormous privilege to be invited for a drink at the House of Commons. And not in some reception or drinks party, oh no; but for a glass of wine with a Member of Parliament in the famous Strangers’ Bar.

Westminster is the kind of place where history breathes, and where traditions survive, along with some equally elderly attitudes. When I tell a policeman at the entrance that I am expected by a Member of Parliament, he asks “Where will you be meeting him?”

To which I reply, “Her.”

Of course there is serious security, at an x-ray, metal detecting, belt-removing level, before you get to the departure lounge. Sorry, Westminster Hall.

And there you encounter… the gift shop. Here, visitors can buy house wines which are, for once literally, House wines. A House of Commons red, boldly emblazoned “Claret”, and a rather more interesting white, a Madeleine Angevine, grown in Hampshire. Both are labelled with the House of Commons portcullis, and sold in the extensive shop along with various branded trinkets, knick-knacks and gew-gaws. Oh, and Speaker Bercow’s single malt Scotch. Known no doubt for its emollience.

From there it’s a stroll with my host to the Central Lobby (Peers one way, politicians t’other) and on, through panelled corridors, to the closed oak door of the legendary MPs’ drinking den, the Strangers’ Bar.

Despite its fame, The Strangers’ Bar is tiny; a close, wood-panelled room, with a “hole in the wall” bar at one end. Along one side wall are wooden ledges, upon which standees can rest a drink; along the other, high round tables each surrounded with padded bar stools.

The public are not admitted except as guests, as the sign makes clear, and only Members themselves can actually buy drinks. Despite this, the crowd at the bar was three deep.

There is a comfortable attitude towards drinking in the Palace of Westminster. MPs cannot formally accuse each other of being drunk in the House of Commons, although Clare Short did once famously declare that Alan Clark was "incapable”. (He later admitted in his Diaries to having been “muzzy”.)

But another MP, Mark Reckless, had to apologise in 2010 for failing to vote because he had drunk too much. "I remember someone asking me to vote,” he said afterwards, “and not thinking it was appropriate, given how I was at the time.”

Well, prices in the Strangers’ Bar are encouragingly low – but they are not subidised; it’s simply that the Bar doesn’t have to be run like a High Street pub. So wines are from £15 a bottle, and from less than £3 a glass.

And there are more than the House souvenir bottles on offer. Half a dozen varieties each of reds and whites; on the white side, for a warm evening, a couple of chardonnays, a brace of sauvignon blancs, a pinot grigio and… a Picpoul de Pinet. Finding a Picpoul de Pinet in a pub would be unusual. Finding one in a members’ bar at less than £4 a glass was impressive. But then, so will be the palates of some of the MPs.

We took our wines outside, on the Terrace. This is a real treat, a view of the Thames which you cannot get from any other vantage point. The wine was cool, crisp and bright, a really excellent example. And there’s a friendly, relaxed and gossipy atmosphere; no obvious cabals in the corners, and absolutely no sign of the Terrace, as former MP Hazel Blears once observed, “Getting a bit lively”.

If some of the attitudes at Westminster might be outdated, it’s refreshing to see it retain a relaxed attitude towards the conviviality of drink. My host remembers once leaving the Bar with an unfinished bottle of beer, taking it to finish at a dinner elsewhere in the Palace. She was stopped at the door of the dining room; not with a warning about taking alcohol through the corridors, but with the words, “Have you brought a bottle for everyone, madam?”

As Big Ben struck 7 – rather sonorously, when you’re sitting nearby – half of the Terrace got up and left. It was a division (or, for our foreign readers, vote). Guests are allowed to remain unaccompanied for 15 minutes, time enough for my host to pass through the lobby (or, for our foreign readers, vote). And I saw no-one incapable of doing so.

With a combination of excellent wine, good company and fabulous location, I have never drunk in a better members’ bar, let alone Members’ bar. And having resisted the temptation to become even “muzzy”, perhaps I might be invited back. Whereas, following his own unfortunate episode, Mark Reckless said that “given this very embarrassing experience I don't intend to drink at Westminster again." As he lost his seat in the General Election, this may not be an issue.


PK

New Week, New Wines!

So, refreshed and yet somehow exhausted by our sailing trip, I come back to the Wonderful World of Wine, determined to start off on a new footing, and build a better, brighter relationship with that drink, insisting on the up rather than the down. I'm bursting with positivity, and this is the result, and honestly I don't care if you like it or not:

What's been happening this week? Well, I was put in mind of a trip I recently made to Australia* (visiting family and friends and taking in a few wine tastings(!)) where I came across a (to me) brilliant new winemaker, Hardys, of McClaren Vale, near fabulous Adelaide. Here, surrounded by cockatoos, Sturt Desert Peas, numbats, quolls, eucalyptus trees and currawongs, the man at the barrier explained to us that Hardys have been going for well over a hundred years, making superb reds and whites, sparklings and rosés, and that their aim is to sell 'As much of the stuff as we can, all over the world'. Unfortunately we couldn't visit the winery itself as they'd just closed to visitors for the afternoon, but the terroir looked fabulous - a rich, undulating landscape, filled with vines, rich red earth, trees and some buildings. The Onkaparinga River National Park rose fabulously in the background. Truly, an unforgettable sight.

And the standout wine? A Hardys Stamp Shiraz Cabernet Sauvignon, created by the brilliant winemaker Viki Wade: a meeting of two grapes, Shiraz and Cabernet Sauvignon (who'd have thought?), rich in plum, redcurrant and dark cherry flavours, with soft tannins and a smooth finish. I was lucky enough to taste this a couple of hours after leaving McClaren Vale itself, after which I raved about it to anyone who would listen. And what do you know? As I found out only yesterday, the 2014 version of this superb wine is now available in the UK, from Tesco, of all people :-). They're currently offering it at £5.00 a bottle, which may sound a little steep, but is well worth the outlay. Perfect with grilled meats and poultry, cheeses, charcuterie, egg dishes, roasts, pasta, game, cottage pie and hearty stews. A superb wine, from a brilliant winemaker.

Cooling it down: it's still summer (!), so what better way to spend those long, lazy, summer evenings than with family and friends, round the barbeque? Now, not everyone likes burgers, chops, chicken pieces, steaks or sausages (although, between you and me, I love all of them =)), so why not grill a piece of fish, or even some marinaded king prawns? When it's done, wrap everything in a sesame bun with some lightly-dressed salad (extra virgin olive oil, a screw of sea salt and a spritz of organic lemon does it perfectly) and ecco! a superb way to watch the sun go down. And to pair with it? I'm going for another New World treat - a 2014 Chilean Cabernet Rosé from Sainsbury's brilliant Winemakers' Selection. Chile is one of the new, up-and-coming wine countries, and this rosé helps explain why. Brimming with ripe red fruit notes combined with a touch of rose and violet, this is the perfect summer treat, served chilled just so. At £6.00 a bottle, it's an investment, but one definitely worth pushing the boat out for.

Warming it up: it's still summer (!!), and we know how that summer heat can turn in five minutes to summer coolth - which is why I've also got a warm, spicy red on hand. It's another winner from Sainsbury's, something I came across only a week or so ago - a superb 2013 Montpierre Reserve Fitou, from the fabulous Languedoc. As anyone who's been down there (I know I have!) will know**, conditions are perfect for making this sort of wine, and this is no exception. It's a full-bodied and spicy red, packed with blackberry and cherry fruit flavours, with a hint of spice. It's a perfect match for grilled meats, tomato-based pasta dishes and hard cheeses, and who doesn't love hard cheeses? At £6.50 a bottle, it's not for everyday drinking, but don't be deterred. Hang on to it for a while (or until the next cloudy day!) and you'll be fabulously surprised by this full-bodied, spicy red and its blackberry and cherry fruit flavours. And spice. A brilliant wine, bottled by Les Jardins du Languedoc with all the style and finesse you'd expect.

*I'll be honest, I invented the trip to Australia, a country I have never actually been to in my life. But you get such a sense of it when you open a bottle of Hardys Stamp Shiraz Cabernet Sauvignon, you feel as if you've been there ;-)

** No, this I really have been to :-D

Didn't think I could do it, did you? Well, ha!

CJ