Zweigelt

Christmas arrived on time yesterday and Boxing Day did the same today. Family arrived in various combinations earlier in the week and we are now seven-strong, and that is a huge improvement on last year.

As a consequence, there have been many bottles opened in the last week and, I strongly suspect, a few more to be treated in the same way over the next, but the one that helps us to round off this latest attempt to try 52 wines in 52 weeks is:

Week Z (2021) Von Der Land Zweigelt, 2019. Majestic £11.99 (£8.99) 

It is strangely pleasing to have made it through the year from Week A (2021) to Week Z (2021) having found each of 26 reds and 26 whites (actually there were a couple of pinks, but I allow that) representing the letters of the alphabet. It is over eight years since I put myself on this trail and although there have been fallow periods I am pleased to have resurrected the habit successfully in this last year.

I don't care one jot that I am the only reader; I actually take some comfort in that if anyone else stumbles across this blog (other than the Russian and Chinese bots and the US Secret Services who have been my companions all along and about whom I couldn't care less) I might be closer to the care home than I currently imagine.

For now, Zweigelt: An Austrian grape produced as a crossing of Blaufrankisch and St.Laurent, first brought into being by Friedrich Zweigelt in 1922 so close to a century ago. To avoid me typing too much about the history of the grape, have a look at Week Z (2014) when I last selected the grape. (That would be the Red Week Z (2014) as the White one was about Zenit, another crossing from another country.)

Zweigelt is a rich and juicy chap with plenty of both red and black fruits, backed up with some nice floral flavours. Think violets and cherries, of both hues, with blackcurrants and plums and some of those flavours will be recognisable in the glass, I believe. At least they were to me.

It is medium bodied and not unlike a new world Pinot Noir which if I had regular readers, other than the aforementioned, they would know that in my world, this is a Good Thing.

Next week will be the first (wine) week of 2022 and so I wish all good things to all people for the coming year.

Buy again? yes.

Yealands

It is a week until Christmas and I have been working hard, both at the Wigginton Community Shop and at Majestic Wines. Long days and I have one day left to complete the Christmas Shopping. That's tomorrow as I will be working until 8pm every day except Christmas Eve when I will finish at 5pm.

Why am I telling you this? Because by admitting that I have felt under pressure provides some explanation of how I chose a wine for this week that I last chose as recently as August of this year. At that time I was looking for a white wine to represent Week G (2021) and it was a better fit then than it is for:

Week Y (2021) Yealands Reserve Gruner Veltliner, 2020. Majestic 

I haven't listed the prices because: i) I have lost the receipt & ii) Majestic no longer include this wine of their website.

I'm not sure I have much to say about it that would be better than my last attempt. Although having just re-read that attempt it wasn't much about the wine then as, increasingly, my ramblings read like I have just typed whatever has come into my mind in the few nanoseconds before my fingers hit the keyboard. Much like now.

Let's give it a go anyway.

I really like this wine. It has all the refreshing qualities of a NZ Sauvignon Blanc without the grapefruit-in-your-face characteristics that those wine often have. Not always; I recently tasted the Greywacke SB and it was lovely. However, in addition to the citrus flavours, Gruner Veltliner offers some softer stone-fruit notes with a light peppery kick that makes for a pleasing combination.

Last time I wrote about this wine I suggested I would almost certainly buy it again and I have, albeit in an moderately unintentional way.

Assuming Majestic are broadly competitive with other suppliers and that last time I paid £12.99 for a bottle I believe this was a good value purchase. Especially as I got a staff perk price for this one!

Not much more to add as I have to get back to the Christmas preparations other than to wish all my reader (sic) a very Merry Christmas and to look forward to the next time.

Buy again, again? Why not, I probably couldn't avoid it anyway.

Xinomavro

I was tempted to go for X is for Xmas, but I have several problems with that, none of which holds sufficient interest for anybody for me to explain further.

Therefore, as predicted last week, X is for Xinomavro. Again.

Week X (2021) Thymiopoulos Xinomavro, 2018. £14.99 (£11.99) Majestic.

This is the third appearance in this blog made by this exact wine. The label is different this time, as is my supplier of choice, but it is the same wine. That gives me something of a problem as I have already researched the producer and described the flavours and aromas on offer in previous editions.

The last occasion I wrote about it was in Week X (2015). It was exactly a year after my first review and on that occasion, as in both years the wine had been the 2012 vintage, I had the sensible idea of buying a third bottle to compare at some point in the future the characteristics revealed by additional bottle age.

Of course the road to hell is paved with such good ideas and naturally I did not follow through. Usually a good thing but on this occasion, regrettable.

As luck would have it we do at least have a different vintage to play with. It doesn't help with the benefits of ageing as this wine is being tasted three years after harvest, as it was in 2015. Having read that last sentence back I am now pondering the very idea of the benefits of ageing. My knees aren't convinced there are any to be had, but I think maybe wisdom is claimable. Dunno. 

This vintage seems to be at least as good as the 2012 at around the same age. It has lots of red fruit, cherries seem prominent, and a hint of spice. It has a similar feel to Pinot Noir and the brightness of a Northern Italian red. It has some complexity and a pleasingly long finish.

So, to sum up, much the same as previous tastings and demonstrable consistency across the years. I doubt I will buy it frequently, but am glad to know it is there should I want something from a less repeated regions.

Buy again? Eventually.

White Port

T'is nearly the season to be jolly, so I have branched out a little for this week's white wine, with something I probably would not have bought in the summer. I was in two minds as to whether or not this week's selection really qualifies, but then I decided as I had had no such qualms about including its red sibling back in Week Q (2014) I should get on with it.

Week W (2021) Taylor's Fine White Port NV Majestic £12.99 50cl (£9.99 mix six) 

Odd that I feel less likely to have bought it in the summer because it works rather well as an aperitif and especially over a little ice.

Majestic rate this as 'very dry' and other reviewers seem to agree. I don't. I think it has a distinct honey-led sweetness with some citrus notes and touches of oak.

Another source of disagreement is the varieties of grapes used. Majestic says Malvasia, whereas the producer's own website lists Arinto, Boal (Semillon), Codega, Esgana Cão, Folgasão, Gouveio, Viosinho and Rabigato varieties.

It could be that I am confusing to versions of the wine, but they are both labelled with the same name, so I don't know.

I would, under normal circumstances, investigate with more determination but I have a lamb shoulder to roast, some Christmas decorations to install and, most frightening of all, Christmas presents to organise, so this post is being done under some psychological pressure and that, real or imagined, is stemming my creative juices.

I am also somewhat fatigued as I am currently, and temporarily, employed by the organisation from whom I bought the above drink in a capacity that tests both my knowledge of wine and my decaying muscles. Such fatigue caused me to pre-select next week's wine, which needs to represent the letter X, as Baumes de Venise (Red, so that bit was good). My command of the alphabet deserted me. I will still try to avoid Xinomavro again, but will probably cheat somehow.

Buy again? Unlikley, but if The One likes it I may.

Vino Nobile di Montepulciano

I haven't checked, but I suspect this week we have the longest title since I started, stopped, restarted, paused (etc.) this exercise. Loads of winey based observations on offer with this one, which is:

Week V (2021) Bonacchi Vino Nobile Di Montepulciano, 2017. Majestic £15.99 (£13.99 mix six)

Firstly, it is obligatory to observe that although Montepulciano is a grape variety, it is not used in the production of Vino Nobile Di Montepulciano.  This is because there is both a village in Tuscany (western Italy) and a grape from Abruzzo (eastern Italy) that share a name. The eastern wine is known as Montepulciano d'Abruzzo, being made from that grape in that region. This one, the western option, is a noble wine from the village of Montepulciano, made with Prugnolo Gentile.  

As I have observed before, Italy likes to be difficult to understand. In this case they could have referred to the grape they have used as Sangiovese, making it more familiar to many drinkers including me, but instead used the local synonym.

Under its more familiar name it is the key ingredient in all of the many variations of Chianti, such as Classico, Superiore, Rufina, Colli Senesi, Fiorentini, etc, etc..

The makers, Bonacchi, describe Prugnolo Gentile as giving Vino Nobile as the highest expression of the Sangiovese of this land. A proud claim indeed, considering all the competition. Are they right?

As ever, I don't know about that as I simply haven't tasted enough of the other available 'expressions', but there is no doubt that this is a good wine. You could look back a few posts to Week Q (2021) to find a definition of Good Wine, if you have nothing better to do.

I decanted the wine before trying it, partly because I have a nice wine decanting funnel and I like to watch the liquid run down all parts of the inside of the decanter to provide some pre-tasting visual anticipatory excitement, and partly because I expected I wouldn't finish it in one sitting and so was curious to see whether an overnight rest in something other than the bottle would tease out any additional flavours or textures.

First impressions were very favourable. The wine was four years old so it had had some chance to develop more flavours than those of the grapes and it was very nicely balanced in terms of acidity and structure. The tannin was present, underpinning the red fruit and floral foundations, and there were also some spice and leathery tobacco elements that came through afterwards and towards the finish. These are likely the results of its time spent maturing in oak and then bottle. This wine rewarded thoughtful appreciation in place of hurried swilling and I did enjoy it. On day one I drank it with a pepperoni and chilli pizza which was a mistake. I should have chosen something with less spice, but as I drank most of it after I had finished eating that was ok.

On the second day I drank it as an aperitif because a couple of red wine drinking friends were on their way round and there wasn't enough left to share! Had it improved? Not really, but it was still lovely.

Drink again? Yes, especially at the mix six price (or less, which I will explain on another occasion).

Unctuous

I simply can't pick an Ugni Blanc every time I need to find a white wine for Week U. To avoid the problem I have chosen a wine which is soft, almost treacle-like and packed with flavour; unctuous, you might allow me to say. It is:

Week U (2021) Noe 30 Year Old Pedro Ximinez Sherry. Majestic £22.49 (37.5cl)

As we are approaching the festive season this is an appropriate selection. Referred to as some, including those nice people at Majestic, as Christmas in a glass.

I have reviewed a 'PX' Sherry once before, in February 2019 since you didn't ask, when I chose it for Week X and I believe this demonstrates not only how versatile the wine is, but also how necessity really is the mother of invention. That wine cost about half as much as this one, on a drop for drop basis, and I liked it. 

This PX has been made by Gonzalez Byass, one of the biggest Sherry producers who also own all of these brands, and it has been aged by them in the traditional solera system where wines of multiple vintages are blended progressively over many years to create the final product. (If you have nothing better to do and to saving repeating myself, you could look back at my Ximinez, Pedro entry for more waffle on this subject.) In this case some of the wine will be at least 30 years old before bottling giving it plenty of time to mature slowly and develop all of the rich, figs, treacle, caramel, dates and spice flavours that characterise the style. Think of it as the perfect friend of a mince pie, but also really good mates with soft cheese and ice cream.

Is it worth the premium price? In truth, as it is nearly three years since I last tasted a PX Sherry I can't be sure, but it is a very nice drop.

It is not a wine that you are likely to want to guzzle, as it is too thick for that, but it is a real treat on the right occasion. Christmas is approaching (as is yet another mutated virus, so get your shopping done quickly) and despite that being something of a mixed blessing, I could be persuaded to look forward to a log fire, a pile of small short-crust mince pies and a thick, sticky glass of Christmas.

Buy again? The style, yes, but as I still have an unopened 70cl bottles of the Valdespina from Week X (2019) it won't be for a while as it does keep rather well. 

Trapiche

Not a grape but a winery. Trapiche was established in 1883 and has been producing wine ever since. They have had a good run of plaudits and awards in that time and have been included by Drinks International in their '50 Most Admired Wine Brands' five times between 2014-2019. They have a dozen or so sub-brands and this week we have one of them:

Week T (2021) Trapiche Oak Cask Malbec, 2020. £7 Tesco 

The Oak Cask brand comprises seven wines, five of them red, and I am intrigued to find and try the Oak Cask Pinot Grigio on another occasion. The other white is Chardonnay which is a more usual candidate for maturation in oak.

This week we have the Malbec. Known now as the Argentinian red Malbec began its life in Cahors, in the South West of France, and was a traditional component in the Bordeaux blend. It is still permitted, but lost out to Merlot in the mid-20th century as the lending partner that can be used to soften the more tannic Cabernet Sauvignon. So, it packed its bags and headed off for sunnier climes (ah, happy days) and found fame and fortune on the other side of the Atlantic.

Trapiche make other wines from Malbec and a little research reveals that their Gran Medalla wine costs around three times as much as this one, so we are dealing with a more modest offering here.  That is not a criticism, I am just wanting to taste it in the correct context. 

I think I have tasted this before. Some months back, possibly more than a year ago, I read an article somewhere (apologies to the author and publisher, as I cannot remember where) that recommended a Malbec available in Tesco. I bought some, liked it and even forwarded the recommendation to a friend who had enjoyed a previous recommendation. That was for Colome's Estate Blend retailing at ~£20 and made from grapes grown in four different vineyards all at different altitudes, up to those from Altura Maxima at 3,111m, one of the highest vineyards in the world. The problem is, as I get older, I can't remember if the previously recommended wine was from Trapiche or Trivento which is also available at Tesco for about the same price.

It doesn't matter, because this is the one we have and I can't believe that the Trivento can be much better. It is a big soft, damsons and violets wine with some subtle spice. The oak is evident but not unpleasantly so, it just reinforces the smooth comforting feel of the black fruits. It is reasonably lengthy and easy to drink.

The grapes were grown between 750-1,110 m above sea level and that indicates how high Altura Maxima is, if that was needed, and allows the heat of the Mendoza plains to be moderated by the reduced temperatures at that height, avoiding the result becoming 'jammy'. Once fermented it rested in a combination of French and American Oak barrels for a year before being bottled and released.

I like it and at the price I will certainly buy it again.

Setubal

 Recently I placed an order with the Wine Society for ten bottles of wine, all from Portugal. These are to be used in the coming week for an evening with friends at a north London branch of the University of the Third Age (U3A). I had selected three white wines, one rose, five reds and a very sweet fortified wine. The prices ranged from £5.95 to £40. The delivery was as scheduled, but there had been an error in the packing. Instead of the £40 red I had been sent a second bottle of:

Week S (2021) Casa Ermelinda Freitas, Vinha do Torrao Rose 2020. Wine Society £5.95

To the absolute credit of the Wine Society when I called to let them know of the error they immediately agreed to send the missing red and told me to keep the spare rose. When they then discovered the missing wine was out of stock, they replaced it with a wine priced at £46 without asking for further payment. If you like wine and are not a member of the Wine Society you may be missing out.

As this is Week S (2021) and the spare wine comes from the Peninsula de Setubal it seemed too good an opportunity to miss. I have been planning to select a Soave, but that can wait a year or two.

There are two sub-regions to Setubal, itself a coastal region South of Lisbon, one of which is also called Setubal and is closer to the coast and more to the South and West. This is mostly known for the sweet fortified wines such as the one included in my selection. Those are made from Muscat of Alexandria and are usually very sweet indeed. The other sub-region is Palmela, more Northerly and to the East. Here a local Portuguese variety, Castelao, is required to be used although, as with this wine, other varieties are permitted.

Here we have a blend with one international variety, Syrah, making up 40% of the blend and the required Castelao contributing 30%. The remaining 30% is from the powerful red grape, Touriga Nacional, renowned for its role in the wine for which the country is best known: Port.

The makers recommend the wine to accompany fish and salads. We drank most of it with a chicken casserole, mashed potato, carrots and Romanesco, The One's favourite vegetable. The last glass was drunk by my daughter to accompany a bath taken to celebrate my grandson falling asleep without too much persuasion.

It seemed to fit both uses acceptably well. It is a young, fruity wine in a strawberry and raspberry sort of way and has, as do many roses (especially at this price point) a noticeable sweetness that is not overpowering. According to the technical data available from the producer, it has only 4.5 g/l of residual sugar, and that is usually an indication of a quite dry wine. Perhaps its the fruit. It is quite enjoyable and a long way from the pink drink I commented on three weeks ago.

November is probably not the best time of year for a wine of this style and a warm summer evening would most likely make it more appealing. Having said that for just under £1 a glass (at standard measures) it is a lot cheaper than a pint in a pub garden.

Buy again? Unsure. If I find the need for this style of wine then it would be a good candidate. Otherwise I would probably pick something from Provence and expect to pay double. Incidentally, Setubal is pronounced something like 'Shtoobel'.

Rhone

I am a regular golfer. This is not to everyone's taste, but it gives me a lot of pleasure, outdoor exercise and social interaction with a reasonably broad range of personalities. I do try to play to the best of my abilities although I have become comfortable with the idea that the only thing that is truly consistent about my playing is that I am inconsistent. Consistently inconsistent.

So it is with what I type. Only last week I told myself that the reason I write this blog is to encourage myself to try new wines and not always stick to those I already know and like. Well this week we have a wine I know I like. It is a staple of my vinous shopping list. It is:

Week R (2021) E.Guigal Cotes du Rhone, 2017. Various ~£12. 

It is such a regular choice of mine, and I know that I have made reference to it somewhere in this collection, that I had to use the search facility in my own blog to confirm that I hadn't chosen it as the weekly wine previously. Either I haven't or the search facility isn't what one should expect from a Google product.

Why is it such a repeated choice? Unlike me, it is consistent. It is good value and it can be relied upon to please guests, should we ever invite any.

It comes from the Southern Rhone and is somewhere towards the lower tiers of the classification hierarchy, not being even a Cotes du Rhone Village which requires the grapes to be sourced from a given set of locations. That means the grapes could come from anywhere in the Southern Rhone and you might think this would reduce the quality of the wine. It doesn't. It just means that it can't be sold as having been made from grapes grown in a more specific and limited place.

Guigal do make wines from the length of the Rhone Valley, including some very highly regarded sites in St Joseph and Cote Rotie, and of those I have tasted they all give great enjoyment.

In the Southern Rhone there are many wines made from a blend often referred to as GSM, standing for Grenache, Syrah & Mourvedre. Guigal have taken a slightly different approach as their's is a SGM blend, giving precedence to the Syrah. Regulations require that where more than one grape variety appears in a blend then they must be listed in descending order of proportion. The blend here is 50% 40% 10%.

They produce about 4 million bottles a year of this wine and I think it is a remarkable achievement that the contents of each bottle is predictable in terms of its characteristics.

The makers say it goes well with cold meats, meats, game bird and cheese. Also Twiglets, I think.

Buy again? Absolutely!

Quercus

Being a child of the 1960s I hit my impressionable years at the time when Monty Python's Flying Circus was in its prime. I have always had a good memory and I put this to good use in my school years by learning, verbatim, the dialogue from the Python sketches that appealed to me most. I was not alone in this endeavour, but I do think I was better at it than most. On reflection, half a century later, I do wonder how different life may have been if I had devoted just a little more of my time to whatever it was my teachers were trying to teach me and a little less to the frivolities that I enjoyed so much.

Why is this relevant? Arguably, it isn't and that illustrates the point that this particular leopard has retained its spots rather well. The tenuous link is that, much to the surprise of many by-then twentysomethings, in 1985 John Cleese took the role of Sherrif Langston in a western movie called Silverado and that is the Californian town where the following is produced:

Week Q (2021) Bread & Butter Chardonnay 2019. Majestic £13.99.

I like Chardonnay and have in these notes previously poured scorn upon those who take pride in drinking ABC (Anything But Chardonnay). I don't need to repeat myself here, their folly is their loss.

I like Chardonnay for the same reason that it has become one of the world's leading and most popular varieties. It is immensely versatile and can, and is, used to produce steely mineral Chablis, mellow and smooth White Burgundy and a wide range of styles between those two and the tropical fruit flavoured wines from warmer regions.

Bread & Butter produce a range of single varietal wines, red, rose and white, sparkling and still, which they market with the advice 'don't over think it' and 'a good wine is one you like'. I rather like that. The downside for me is that advice puts in a nutshell why this blog and so many like it are almost entirely pointless. At least pointless from the point of view of the reader. And that's you. I get something out of it and that is the simple motivation to try more wines for my own pleasure rather than settling always for a few that I know I already enjoy. If you want to stick with me, please do but don't blame me for its quality. A good blog is one you like.

I appear to have gone off the point again.

My bonus daughter introduced me to this week's wine. It was rather pleasing to have another member of the family enthuse about wine, as that doesn't happen very frequently. Daughter No 1 enjoys Sauvignon Blanc and, indeed, other bright and fruity wines, but she would not agree about this one.

The key point of disagreement would be the use of Oak, which also happens to be the reason it qualifies for Week Q as Quercus is the genus which defines Oak trees. There are over 500 species in the genus, which like the wine, makes my head spin. 

Oak really features in this wine. It is not at all subtle, instead choosing to be up front and allowing the drinker to decide whether this is a good wine or not. In terms of the style of Chardonnay we are certainly not dealing with a Chablis wannabe and the oak is so prominent it is more like the wines produced 20 years ago in Australia than those from Burgundy. My first taste was a bit of a shock. It would be going too far to say that it was like being hit in the face with an oak plank although it did have a powerful effect. I like delicacy in wine, usually, just like I like dark and malty beers rather than larger, but there are times when a cold larger hits the spot better than an Old Ale. That's why I choose to call this a good wine. Not for its subtly, but for its attitude. To quote Gloria Gaynor, 'I am what I am and what I am needs no excuses!'.

Buy again? Yes, for the right occasion and to wine brownie points from the bonus.

Pink

Being a bit of a recovering wine bore I still enjoy the complexity of wine. Not just the complexity that is derived through the processes involved in converting fruit juice into a delicious alcoholic drink, but also the complexity in the language used to describe the products. However, along with the fun of untangling the meaning buried in this complexity there are also risks:

Week P (2021)  Healy & Gray Zinfandel Rose. 

This is not a memoir of wine expertise. It is a reminder to myself that despite all of the courses, the reading, the pretense of understanding and the ego, sometimes the obvious is more easily spotted by those who don't have much of an interest in the subject.

Together with The One, I recently ventured towards the frozen North to attend an event based around a celebration of the focus of my other hobby: cheese. To make the trip less of a mission and more of a short break we traveled to the event on the night before and had booked ourselves into a local pub for Bed & Breakfast.

It was a nice enough pub. The room was named 'Dolly' after one of the seven Llamas living in the garden, and all the facilities worked as designed. No complaints at all.

We had booked a table for an evening meal as the pub was not really near anywhere else other than a nice looking hotel of which I was unaware at the time of booking. Next time, perhaps. Not because I am that much of a snob, I like pubs, but because a night away for a trip based around cheese needs to offer something to all of those traveling.

We took our place at the table and ordered pre-dinner drinks. A pint for me and a Rose G&T for the lady. On arrival the young waiter politely announced 'a pint of Cheshire Cat and a Grapefruit G&T'.  We exchanged glances. 'No, sorry, we ordered a Rose gin, please'.  'Yes, that's right, it's a grapefruit gin', said the young man. Hmm,... after some more discussion a replacement was delivered. It was gin, but the rose element was lacking. No bother, it will do.

Then the menu. Should we choose a la carte or take advantage of 'Burger night' which offered two burgers, of various styles, plus a bottle of wine all for £30? I love a bargain, so burgers it was. The wines offered were: 1. Sauvignon Blanc, 2. Pinot Grigo, 3. Merlot, 4. Zinfandel.  So, two white and two red, I thought. I made my choice and The One expressed surprise at my selection. 'Oh, no' I explained, 'it will be a robust red, made from Zinfandel which is also known as Primitivo'. 

It wasn't. This was worth every penny I spent on it. That is, two burgers for £15 each is about right, down South, so the wine was 'free'. 

I am not an advocate of teenage drinking. I'm not allowed to be, even though I was keen on it in my own formative years, but I do think the idea of educating young people in the joys and dangers of alcohol is sensible. I understand the French are good at this. The alternative is that teenaged girls, at whom wines like this must be aimed, will discover these sugary alcoholic fruit juices and dice with all manner of unintended consequences. It was, put simply, horrible.

Finally, the coffee served at breakfast alongside an excellent sausage sarnie. Undrinkable.

Otherwise it was a great trip. For me the highlight was that after having watched James Martin prepare four excellent looking cheese-based recipes in 40 minutes we later watched Marco Pierre White take the same amount of time to scramble an egg. Together with the gin episode, the undrinkable wine and undrinkable coffee, we have lots to look back on and laugh.

Buy again? Never. Absolutely never.

Oxford Landing

The City of Oxford was a paddle steamer that plied its trade up and down the Murray River until one day during a storm that raged across South Australia, it came to grief. One piece of wreckage was washed up on the banks of the river near to the site where vines for wine grapes were recently planted. This week's wine is named in honour of that unfortunate vessel:

Week O (2021) Oxford Landing Chardonnay 2020. Waitrose £6.69 

I have tasted this wine before as I included it in my selection of wines to illustrate the range of styles that are produced across South Australia, and the little introduction above reflects the blather I delivered to cover the silence between tasting and evaluation on that occasion. That was seven years ago this month and, apart from the label, nothing much has changed. It is a well flavoured wine with a blend of stone fruits, tropical fruits and a bit of citrus. It doesn't pretend to be competing with white burgundy, Chablis, or any other classic Chardonnays but it remains good value, easy to drink and enjoyable.

Compared to the 2014 tasting, which was of the 2013 vintage, this wine is a tad more acidic in terms of pH value, but has marginally less total acid per litre. Curious that, and I can't explain that little paradox. Both wines were 13% abv and both the weather conditions and winemaking processes are described similarly in the maker's technical notes.

This all fits the profile of a wine that is made to be consistent, year-on-year, as it is aimed at a market that expects Oxford Landing Chardonnay to taste like Oxford Landing Chardonnay and has little interest in the potential variations that wine geeks choose to find fascinating.

I find myself short of much more to say about it so I will jump to the end. Would I buy it again? Yes, mostly because it is very good value if what is required is a white wine for slurping with friends, probably in a casual party kind of way.

Seven years ago I paid £7.99 for a bottle at Majestic. I expect I bought it with other wines to get the 'mix six' price. This year I bought the same wine for £1.30 less. Inflation has been low in the time between the two transactions, but there has been some. Wine Duty has increased, too, so a 16% reduction seems like a bargain. The Aussie dollar was worth about 54p in 2014 and is the same today and so the difference isn't about currency fluctuations. I shall, therefore, simply be grateful.

It also makes me think that this would be a good time to go back down under, which would be nice, assuming that the pandemic doesn't kick off again. How can that be made to happen? Hmmm,....

Ned

I first came across The Ned as a friend's recommdation for a well-priced and enjoyable New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc. He turned out to be correct. I have been aware for some time that there was a stablemate but had not previously tried it, so:

Week N (2021) The Ned Pinot Noir 2020. Waitrose £13.49 

The price of the Pinot Noir is about double that of the Sauvignon and I hoped it would mean that it would be twice the value. Let's see.

In previous posts I have expressed a penchant for Pinot Noir and especially those of the supposedly new world as they tend to be more reliable and available at a price point I can manage. This one is good. A little more acidic and perhaps a touch less smooth than my 'go to when available' Errazuriz Coastal Series, which is a lot cheaper, but still enjoyable and not unreasonably priced.

Apart from that it doesn't leave me much to remark on. I like it, but it hasn't rocked my world.  I drank it over a couple of days and it did, perhaps, soften slightly after being opened and depleted by about 50%, but it was not a significant change.

I have a couple of bottles of a red Burgundy from Aloxe Corton, 2009 & 2010 respectively, sitting in my 'cellar' and I have been waiting for the right time to open them. I can't remember where I bought them (was it Costco?) although I think they were keenly priced. I like to think that when at last I pull the corks I will be rewarded with a complex and delicate wine that will knock this week's selection into the proverbial cocked hat, however, if that doesn't happen I suspect it will reinforce my prejudice in favour of new world Pinot Noir. If it does then I will have to reassess my wine budget! 

If I remember, I will report back.

Buy again? See above.

Moschofilero

Last week my selection was made to help me prepare for standing up and banging on about wine (blah, blah, tannin, blah, acid, balance, blah...) and this week's wine has also been selected to assist with preparations, of a sort. Soon, together with a regular collection of friends, The One and I will be heading off to a Greek island for some late summer sun and yesterday evening we all met to babble excitedly about the prospect and agree the rules of engagement. I knew Moussaka had been prepared to provide a theme for our gathering and so I thought it best to choose a Greek wine to accompany it. I did, but that one was red, so I also took along:

Week M (2021) Moschofilero & Roditis 2020. £8.50 M&S.

It doesn't come from an island, but it's close enough. As the name suggests it is a blend of two grape varieties, being 80% Moschofilero and 20% Roditis. In medical circles this latter grape sounds like the inflammation of a small part of the eye. Or of something else which doesn't warrant further thought, but it isn't. It is a citrus flavoured fruit used often in the production of Retsina, that favourite of Greek holidays, and also frequently distilled into Ouzo to be brought home and ignored.  Pink skinned and delicate it was once more widely grown but fell victim to phylloxera and lost its place somewhat.

The majority partner, Moschofilero, is another pink skinned producing more aromatic flavours and is said to be so versatile that it justifies having the nickname of 'Chameleon'. Versatile may also be a euphemism for unpredictable, it seems.

The chameleon we encountered starting by providing a passable imitation of a Sauvignon Blanc and then morphing into something like a Pays de Gascogne, being less sharp. It had the aromatics and the floral tones and was bright and lively, but there was also something a little earthy that, at first, I was unsure about. On passing the bottle around the table as the discussion ranged between which hire cars we would have and whether skinny-dipping would be permissible (it isn't, in my opinion. The ages range from mid-fifties to mid-sixties so how could it be?) one of my dining companions described the wine as 'delicious', so it must be, especially when the bottle is nearing emptiness.

My wine merchant recommended I should try it with saganki...ok, let me rephrase that. It says on the M&S label that it goes well with saganaki, described as prawns grilled in tomato sauce, or leaving it to mature for a couple of years to let more honeyed tones develop. Two problems with this. Firstly, the cap had been unscrewed and the contents polished off within approximately five hours after purchase, so there goes the honey, and secondly, I thought saganaki was fried cheese! That last point sent me scurrying off to uncle Google to check that what I had really enjoyed a few years ago on Kefalonia really was a) fried cheese and b) called saganaki. Turns out it was, on both counts, but that a saganki is in fact the frying pan and that anything cooked in it can be called by the same name. The most common (like me) is the cheese dish, but anything goes. A bit like Teppanyaki, I assume. Or barbeque. As it happens I am not a big fan of the prawn, but am of the cheese so if the opportunity arises I will test that second pairing.

The red, in case you are curious, was a Xinomavro. This grape has featured in my exploration twice, exactly a year apart, in August 2014 & 2015.

Looking forward to seeing the shimmering sea up close and will report back on any local discoveries later in the season.

Buy again? I doubt it. Its ok but not particularly compelling.

Lisboa Bonita

As the pandemic restrictions are slowly easing I have been approached to dust off my wine presentation skills and share with some old friends the flavours of Portugal, in a few weeks' time. With that in mind I trundled down the hill to the ever reliable M&S and chose this week's wine by way of revision.

Week L (2021) Lisboa Bonita 2019. £9 M&S. 

Portugal offers a great variety of grapes, many of which are not found in many other places and some of which are even if it is under different names, and an equally great variety of regions, climates and styles.

To start with the grapes. There are loads of them and in this bottle alone we have six of them. The variety representing the smallest proportion in terms of percentage of volume is is Syrah (5%), not an Portuguese speciality. As I have commented before, I can't be certain that it is necessary but accept the winemaker thinks it is.

We have Touriga Nacional also at  5%, a heavy weight Port grape that is both fruity and tannic with complex aromas of cherries, bergamot (I love Earl Grey, don't you?) and a pinch of pepper.

Moving up the percentages we have Touriga Franca (10%). Less heavy with floral characteristics and good colour, followed by the wonderfully named Alicante Bouschet (15%). This is one of the rarer 'teinturier' grapes, meaning that, unusually, the flesh of the fruit is not clear but coloured red. It is a crossing between Petit Bouschet and the ubiquitous Granache.

Next up: Tinta Roriz (15%), better known to the world as Tempranillo, one of the great Spanish varieties and a stalwart of many wines from Rioja to Ribeira del Duero which is the river that becomes the Douro when it crosses the border into Portugal becoming as it does so the home of Port wine. 

Finally we have the two predominant varieties at 25% each, Castelao, also known as Periquita bringing raspberry and a hint of tar when aged, and Caladoc. This last grape is a French crossing of Grenache and Malbec.

This lovely little lot have been fermented, blended and stored in French and American oak for six months before bein bottled and sent to a supermarket near you. I has 13.5% abv and is packed with flavour.

The first thing you notice when pouring a glass is that it is inky-black and only reveals any deep red colours when the glass is tilted to let some light into its lighter rim. Then, on tasting, it is dark fruit, full-bodied mouth-feel and tannin. It is not a summer afternoon wine unless you are washing down a hefty bar-be-que and intend to have a nap before dessert. The flavours are quite complex and there is something pleasantly unusual about it. I hope that means it represents some of the individuality of Portuguese wines, drawn out by the eclectic blend chosen by the maker and not just that I shouldn't have tasted it after eating a chicken donner with garlic mayonnaise.

Buy again? Yes. Probably to share as part of my selection for later this year, but definitely for my own pleasure. It is a bargain.

Kent

Six years ago, in Week L (2015), I chose Chapel Down Lamberhurst Estate,Bacchus Reserve 2014 as my wine of the week. At the end of that post I noted that if Santa Claus had been reading it he might have been interested in the vine lease scheme that Chapel Down offer. He wasn't, at that point. Fast forward to February 2020 when the next generation of my generous family chose to celebrate my 60th birthday with a gift of a vine lease. Very generous and very much appreciated.

Eighteen months later six bottles of wine, made from the juice pressed from my very own grapes, were delivered to my front door and so this week we have:

Week K (2021) Chapel Down Tenterden Estate Bacchus 2020. 

As the image on the right is not one of the actual bottles delivered it doesn't carry the strapline 'Bailey: Matured for 60 years', which is proudly emblazoned on my bottles.

I have opened the first of the six and was very impressed. Bright citrus fruits, especially grapefruit in my opinion, with quite some intensity. Good length and a mouthwatering finish. 

I noted when reviewing the Lamberhurst Estate wine that it was a good competitor for New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc and Tenterden follows suit. From my six year old memory (that is, my memory from six years ago not an admission that I drank wine as a primary school pupil) there is less of the elderflower and other floral components in this one but it is still a very good summer wine.

Intended to be enjoyed whilst it has youth on its side I am not concerned that I will have consumed the remaining five bottles before their contents reach their peak. I hope to have at least one left to share with the family next time we all manage to congregate.

The original plan behind the gift was that I would visit my vines as they grew and could chart their progress until the early autumn when I would participate in the harvest. The gift was given over a nice lunch at the vineyard exactly one month before the wretched pandemic put the UK under house arrest and so the vines had to cope without my interference. My loss, as they have clearly managed to do that very nicely indeed.

I didn't give an indication of price above, as it seemed inappropriate given the fact my bottle came as a part of that generous present, however, as we reach the bottom of the page I can say that if you were to buy six bottles directly from the producer they would charge you £70 plus delivery, which is very fair.

Buy again? Most likely (just the wine!).

Jam Shed

I stopped commuting into 'The Great Wen' (William Cobbett c1820) nearly three years ago and don't miss it, generally. There are, however, a few disadvantages of not visiting on a regular basis one of the world's best capital cities, such as losing contact with some of the few old colleagues who also genuinely qualified as friends, and perhaps more relevant to this context, the greatly reduced opportunity to browse the shelves of a wide range of smaller, dedicated wine merchants. 

Thus it is once again to Tesco that I have turned to select:

Week J (2021) Jam Shed Malbec 2020. Tesco £7. 

I have nothing against supermarkets, although I do prefer to do my shopping in the excellent Wigginton Community Shop, it's just that the range of wines available tends to be somewhat predictable and for my purposes, being continued exploration, they can be somewhat limiting. The majority of wine sales in UK are made by supermarkets and that makes sense as it is where most people buy their groceries, but I suggest that it serves to reinforce buying habits and price expectations. If you see a bottle of wine made from a recognisable grape variety, described on the label as '...rich opulent plum and blackberry flavours, rounded off with a hint of cocoa and vanilla.' that is on sale (undiscounted) for £7, why wouldn't you? (see later)

Call me old fashioned, but there is something very pleasing about entering a specialist wine merchant's shop and strolling past the racks of bottles ranging from those available in supermarkets to those I could never justify the expense of buying, as I had the pleasure to do last week in the exceptional Topsham Wines.  I enjoy having to think what the information on the label means not, I hope, in a wine snobby way, but in a way that encourages engagement with the product in some slightly deeper way than being attracted by a well-presented logo. Please don't tell me this has anything to do with 'mindfulness' or any such over-promoted guff.

The biggest and most convenient alternative to supermarkets is of course the internet. Either through direct sales, wine clubs or larger merchants. I am a member of the Wine Society and have great respect for them, but buying on-line seems a bit cold somehow. It also makes the volume of my purchases much more obvious when boxes are delivered to the front door, rather than being brought out of the boot of the car under the cover of night. The One has never even raised an eyebrow, so it must be some deep-rooted guilt connected to my own self-loathing, but enough of that. I have visited the Society's showroom in Stevenage and enjoyed that and also once went to the sadly defunct shop they had in Montreuil until 2016, on a particularly wet weekend, but that takes a bit of effort. So supermarkets are likely to remain my most frequently used sources. Ho Hum.

What of this week's wine? I do like to try less expensive (under £10?) wines from time-to-time just in case there is bargain hiding in plain sight. This isn't one. It is worth the £7 I paid for it, but only just. There is nothing wrong with it. It is very fruity, in that it tastes like undiluted Ribena, is at least off-dry if not sweeter, has little discernable acidity or alcohol, despite it being 13% abv, but some tannin that is revealed if you chew the wine before swallowing. Some people will enjoy this and consider it to hit the spot, but for me the sweetness and concentrated mouthfeel are too much.

On the plus side it claims on the label to be 100% carbon neutral. I don't know what the measure for this accreditation would be, but imagine the fact that it was lovingly bottled in Avonmouth must help. Whoops! That sounded a bit snotty. Given that mankind will almost certainly be eradicated within the next few generations due to our mismanagement of the global environment, I apologise for that. Not only is there nothing wrong with bulk wine transportation, it alongside alternative packaging, should be encouraged. Trouble is, that line of thought makes me feel I should try only to consume local produce and whilst English wine is improving all the time it would limit my exploration even more than shopping in supermarkets. Oh, hell. Now what to do?

In the meantime: buy again? No.

Inzolia

Whilst discussing the potential for foreign travel as, hopefully, we come towards the end of the current pandemic a friend described how he and his wife had booked a trip to Sicily. I responded with genuine interest, enthusiasm and a little envy. It was when he said 'and then we will take the helicopter back to Plymouth' that I realised either he was a man of much greater means than I had previously understood or that he wasn't going to Sicily. 

Recently we took a virtual trip to Sicily, in Week F (2021), and it is a pleasure to return there. In that week I mentioned Marsala, so it feels fitting that here we have:

Week I (2021) Martinez Marsala Superiore Riserva Dolce. 37.5cl M&S £5.95

As with the wine from our recent trip this week's wine is made from a blend of grapes. The grapes in question are a majority of Grillo, which on its own makes fresh appley-lemon wines with a nutty tang, and Inzolia (aka at least 8 other names) which also has a nutty personality. Given that, why the blend? I dunno, maybe it's cheaper :-).

Probably due to the passage of time there is a pattern emerging in these most recent pages as wines, or grapes, tasted before reappear in a different guise. Inzolia previously appeared in Week I (2015) as a dry wine and I referred to its role in Marsala and so now I'll return the favour as although Marsala can be dry this one certainly is not. It is similar to a sweet Port, being tawny in colour and having a figgy-raisin flavour with some spiced caramel and hazelnut tones, most prominent in the finish. It is a touch sweeter than I would choose, but it's great with sharp cheeses.

There are clues on the label as to the style in the bottle. To be called Superiore Riserva it must have aged for a minimum of four years, and Dolce is (obviously) Sweet. Other classifications can be applied to wines aged much longer, but you can look those up for yourself.

In common with Madeira it has in its history the discovery that the wine improved during long sea journeys. In the case of Madeira this lead to a process where the wine ages in hot warehouses, known as estufagem. For Marsala the process is similar to the solera system used in the production of Sherry, where proportions of new wines are added to older stocks several times over a few years so that the resultant wine is the product of many vintages. In Marsala this process goes under the name 'perpetuum' which is quite descriptive don't you think?

Buy again? Yup, it keeps forever and is great added to fruit dishes, if it hasn't all been drunk first.

Heritages

 H is for Heritages. This one caught my eye, partly because I like wines from the Rhone Valley in general, and partly because I liked the brand name. I have noticed while perusing the wine walls in my most frequently visited supermarkets that, like other industries, the opportunity to sail close to the wind with trade marks is often grabbed in an attempt to grasp the shopper's attention. I am the evidence that this can work.

Week H (2021) Heritages Chateaneuf-du-Pape, 2019. Tesco £19

Now, I am not accusing anyone of doing anything underhand here and I selected the bottle knowing exactly what was in it and from whence it came. However, although Chateauneuf-du-Pape is a very well known and respected appellation in the Southern Rhone, it is also one of the largest, producing approximately 14 million bottles each year. 

Further upstream in the Northern Rhone lies the appellation of Hermitage which produces some excellent red wines, but in much lower quantities: 730,000 bottles per annum, or thereabouts.

Both appellations have good reputations. With the volume of C-d-P that is produced it isn't all going to be the best, but in my experience (see other entries: Week H (2015), Week L (2015), Week V (2015)....I told you I liked the Rhone) it is one of those names that people seem to trust. Perhaps this leads to the producers needing to compete in other ways, such as using a brand name that might catch the eye of a customer seeking a bargain. A bottle of Hermitage can be expensive. A quick internet search reveals bottles for as little as £40 (i.e. twice the price of this lower end C-d-P) or as much as five times that amount. I didn't look further, but I know this is not the upper limit.

Whether that is what is happening here I can only speculate, but there are other examples from many other regions. Italy seems to produce a lot of wine way down in the south, especially in Puglia, that have names similar to Amarone or Appassimento that have their roots in the north.

There is also a word used in the United States to mean a wine made from a blend of grapes permitted in Bordeaux. That word is Meritage....

Does any of this matter? Possibly, possibly not. However, in the interest of helping consumers understanding what they are buying and, hopefully, making better informed choices, we might consider that C-d-P can be made from 18 grape varieties as long as Grenache predominates, whereas Hermitage can only use a majority of Syrah, blended with minor portions of Marsanne & Roussanne which are both white.

Having chosen my weekly wine in part because of the possibility of typing all this unnecessary guff and using it as an exercise in revision of details once learned and in danger of being forgotten, I should say a bit about the experience of drinking it.

It was deeply-coloured, rich, well-structured, full of black fruits and herbal notes, had ripe tannin and a pleasing finish. I shared it with two friends, one of whom looked at the label and said, 'ooh, Chateauneuf-du-Pape, nice!' (see above) and both of whom then drank it without further comment whilst eating a delicious lunch of chicken with lemon and olives. Another example of a match that would make some rule-based wine enthusiasts wince!

Buy again? Chateauneuf-du-Pape, yes. This particular one, if it is close to hand, yes, but I won't seek it out.

Gruner Veltliner

Gruner Veltliner is, alongside its unrelated Roter version, a grape whose home is in the lovely country of Austria. We tried it once before, in 2015, as an ice wine (wein?) which was very lovely but also very sweet. That one came from Burgenland, in the grape's homeland, whereas this one has travelled all the way from New Zealand and is dry.

Week G (2021) Yealands Reserve Gruner Veltliner, 2020. Waitrose £12.99 

The grapes were grown in the Awatere Valley in the north-east of New Zealand's south island (I'm a bit disappointed I haven't managed to shoehorn the word 'west' into that sentence, so far) which has a sunny disposition during the day, accompanied by cool nights and low annual rainfall. This provides excellent conditions in which this well-travelled grape can develop it's peppery, spicy flavours to good advantage.

There is stone fruit, some tropical notes and a bit of mineral zipidity (doo-dah. That's a neoligism to me, I think) that makes the whole thing nicely balanced between easy to drink and sufficiently unusual to make it interesting.

Along with another G variety, Gewurztraminer, the usual advice is to pair it with Asian food, but my usual response is to recommend drinking it with whatever takes your fancy. I wouldn't expect it to go well with slow-cooked Ox cheeks, but it might. Having typed that I am now tempted to try.

I have only once, to date, visited New Zealand and given the country's current administration's fierce determination not to allow that country to suffer from the Covid-19 pandemic any more than they really have to, I think it is unlikely that I would be welcomed back any time soon. They have recently 'locked-down' (why don't I like that phrase?) in response to a single case of the disease being detected and so even us doubled-jabbed (that's also unappealing) geriatric wine enthusiasts are banned from entry. This is a pity. Partly because I found New Zealand to be beautiful and peaceful, especially as in the south island it is still 1975 and there's no WiFi, mobile phone network or even FM radio for large parts of it, and partly because on my previous trip I only managed one winery visit. This was to Mission, in the north island, the oldest winery in the country. It was excellent and I should like to try more.

Awatere is closer to Blenheim, in the broad and famous Marlborough region from which so many good wines are produced. Sadly, we drove through it without stopping, on the way to catch the ferry to the south-western (hoorah! I new I could do it!) tip of the north island. This is an error to be corrected at some future date. We also didn't stop to take in Don Henley in concert in Wellington, but did catch him in Hyde Park where he was the main support act (!!!) to Carole King. Also excellent.

Anyway, I digress. Buy again? Most likely.

Frappato

Ah! Italia!  Had it not been for the wretched pandemic we would now be but a month or so away from packing our bags to attend a wedding in the hills to the north of Rome. Wouldn't that have been great.. There is a slim chance it still may be possible, provided the Italian government change the rules at the beginning of September. If they don't we will have to continue to use exploration of the world through wine as a proxy for a more personal experience. With that in mind:

Week F (2021) Corte Ferro Frappato Nerello Mascalese, 2019. Majestic £8.99 

Let us imagine ourselves on the sun-kissed shores of Sicily, on the western coast close to Marsala, sipping a red wine made from local grapes (Shirley Valentine has just popped into my head, but I think she went to Mykonos) and enjoying the evening sun, setting over the Mediterranean Sea. Nice, innit?

The wine would be a blend of two varieties grown on the island and in very few other places. The growers would be from a family that established the vineyards in 1904 and who, almost exactly a century later, had teamed up with a winemaking family from Brescia to build a winery and take control of the end-to-end production. 

What we have here is both a blend of grapes and a blend of families, who turn the juice from those grapes into the wine of the week. The families are, firstly, the local growers, named Caruso and, secondly, the Minini family from Brescia in Lombardy. They bring viticulture and vinification together.

The grapes are Frappato, which brings a lightness, acidity, and berry fruit flavours, and Nerello Mascalese, providing the structure and body. Both of these have been hand-picked, destemmed and fermented in stainless steel tanks for two to three weeks, before undergoing malolactic fermentation in the same. The wine is then aged in a mix of 225 litre barriques (30%) for four months and stainless steel for eight months. After all of that it has a labelled abv of 13.5%.

Back in the real world the wine was tasted not on a balmy Sicilian evening to accompany a mixed plate of local antipasti, but in front of the television with little more than a bowl of cashews, whilst watching a rerun of what the BBC, or at least many of their presenters, seems to believe was called the Erlympics, where 'Team GB' done really well. For all of that *sigh* both the sport and the wine that accompanied it were very enjoyable and my any measure, a great success. Medium body, fruit and acidity nicely balanced, alcohol well integrated, good subtle tannin, nice length.

Buy it again?  Yes.

Elemental

Following on from last week's wine, this week is another from Majestic. Not this time one of their own label wines but one selected for a few reasons.

Week E (2021) Elemental Organic Viognier, 2020. Majestic £9.99

My reasons for selecting this, apart from the obvious and necessary 'white wine beginning with 'E' (and there are two of those)', were that, as I have said before, I like Viognier and also that I like producer: Emiliana.

Emiliana were voted Winery of the Year in 2016, by Wines of Chile, and they have an impressive track record from their inception in 1998 for increasingly concentrating on the production of organic and biodynamic wines whilst picking up certifications and awards for environmental and ethical practices.

I first encountered Emiliana at the London International Wine Festival in around 2010 where I listened to an interesting and engaging presentation about their philosophy whilst, happily, sampling some of their output. I particularly remember enjoying the Coyam red, a blend of Syrah, Carmenere, Cabernet Sauvignon, Mourvedre, Petit Verdot, Carignan, Malbec, Garnacha & Tempranillo!

This wine is 100% Viognier. As previously noted elsewhere in these pages, Viognier originates from the Northern Rhone, where it is used in top end wines like Chateau Grillet and as part of the blend in Cote Rotie, and I have mentioned more than once that I like Yalumba's organic Viognier which is made in South Australia. So how does this Chilean wine compare? In short: very well.

Chile produces a lot of great wine and much of it at keen prices, at least in the UK when compared to some 'old world' offerings. This is a good example of one such wine. It is beautifully aromatic and has rich flavours of stone fruits, like peach and apricot, with some floral tones (I think I am supposed to say honeysuckle at this point) and a honey finish.

I like this a lot. I opened it to accompany a slow roast pork Sunday lunch and it did that very nicely. Most labels on bottles of Viognier recommend drinking it with Thai food and I wouldn't object to that either.

Buy again? Yes, without hesitation.

Definition Claret

In my exploration of wine I try to avoid the obvious. I'm not always successful. I didn't try too hard this week and found myself in the local branch of Majestic for what is quite an unusual reason. The One had been to see a friend on a recent warm summer's evening and came home saying she had just enjoyed a really delicious rose and could we go and buy some. It's not often I get such a direct instruction to go wine shopping, so off we popped.

Whilst there I picked up a few bottles, including:

Week D (2021) Definition Claret, 2017. Majestic £9.99

This is a wine from Majestic's own label brand. They started selling Definition wines a few years ago and have slowly increased the styles available. I have tried a few of them and, generally, found them to be at least good value for money.

I had not had the Claret before and thought it worth a go. As you doubtless know, Claret is a traditional British name for the red wines of Bordeaux. You will also know that those wines, which are produced in huge quantities annually, can be made from a number of grape varieties and usually in a blend. The region is divided into a number of sub-regions and each, depending on the soil and topography, may be more of less suited to any of the permitted grapes.

The Gironde estuary runs through the Bordeaux region and, in broad brush terms, the wines from the left bank of the estuary tend to have Cabernet Sauvignon as the principle variety and those from the right bank tend to have Merlot taking the lead.

This one is an example of the exception that proves the rule. It is made in the Medoc, on the left bank, but contains a majority of juice from Cabernet Franc supported by Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon. 

Cabernet Franc is a lighter, more floral variety than either of its blending partners and can be found more frequently in the wines of the Loire valley where it is given greater respect. In a Claret it is often seen as a minor component, useful because it ripens more easily and can moderate the tanins of the more robust Cab Sav.

It is possibly because of the blend in this bottle that I was surprised and, in truth, a little disappointed when I first tasted it. I had not read any details before trying it and, as it was described as a Claret from Medoc, I had assumed it would be more of a meaty drink.  I found it rather more acidic than I had expected and didn't find it to be particularly appealing. I finished the bottle over three sittings and by the last sensed that a day or two with the cork out had softened the acidity, but it could have been me that had softened.

If I was to choose a Cabernet Franc in future then I would look to the Loire as my source. Perhaps there it will be shown to better effect.

Pub quiz fact: Cabernet Sauvignon was created by crossing Cabernet Franc with Sauvignon Blanc.

Buy again? No.

Clendenen

I was going to title this post 'Chardonnay' but it occurred to me that as the maker of this week's wine died just two months ago it would be more appropriate to honour him in this very small way. I did not know him, never met him and claim no special knowledge other than he was the classic Californian winemaking pioneer.

Week C (2021) Au Bon Climat Wild Boy Chardonnay. Various sources ~£25. 

Most weeks I comment on a wine that I have bought in a supermarket, wine shop or on-line merchant. Very occasionally I have commented on a wine tasted in a restaurant and this is one of those. 

We had been advised that the tasting menu we were about to eat would be mostly fish and vegetarian dishes and that if we were not going to spend quite a bit of cash on the suggested pairings, a white would be preferable. The restaurant had a wine list that was big enough and broad enough to cover every taste and pocket. The meal was expensive enough to deserve a decent wine, but it is always a challenge to get the balance right. The list priced this wine at £95 which is way above the amount I would pay in retail. But that's how the world works. 

I had never tried it before, but did recognise the name Au Bon Climat on the list, so I asked the sommelier to describe it. He did so in glowing terms (they always do if they curate the list!) and so the deal was done.

First thing to note was that Au Bon Climat does not appear on the label as it had done on the list, which I have to admit worried me, briefly. But it wasn't the kind of place that would get things like that wrong, even unintentionally, so I nodded, sniffed it and accepted it.

It was quite well-oaked, had plenty of clean, stone and tropical fruit flavours and a nicely balanced acidity. It did indeed go well with the three appetisers and the first six courses of the main meal, but by the time we were approaching the lamb it had been drunk dry and a couple of glasses of a South African left-bank blend were required to keep us on track.

Having returned home I have red more about Jim Clendenen and his wines. It makes interesting reading as he was, with his winemaking business partner, one of those 'we will have to do it all ourselves until we can afford to pay for help' type of pioneers who clearly believed he could make a success of things.

The reason Au Bon Climat, the name of his winery, doesn't appear on the bottle is that Wild Boy is one of his more experimental, small batch wines and they had to stand on their own merits.

Buy again? Probably not. But only because it is now attached in memory to a great evening.

Brouilly

When I started this exercise in continued investigation into the wines of the world it was because I knew that the formal education I had had was by no means exhaustive. It had provided me with a solid body of knowledge and an appreciation of some of the complexities of the subject but, as many people find with a great range of topics, I felt that the more I had learned the more I had understood how little I knew and how much more there was to be discovered. Hence this blog.

I have commented on prejudice a few times and this week's wine could have become a victim of this:

Week B (2021) Domaine Tavian, Brouilly, 2020. Waitrose £12.99. 

Over two evenings recently The One and I dined with some good friends. Of the four of us only two have any real taste for wine. This is, of course, perplexing but each to their own. There were two bottles sitting on the sideboard: this Brouilly and a South African Cabernet Sauvignon. We had already eaten in a local pub and so the wine was intended to accompany another game of cards. 'Which do you fancy?', I asked. 'The Cab Sav, or the Beaujolais?'  

I probably should not have said 'Beaujolais' as, I think, it set a negative expectation. I lost at cards over the South African wine.

The following evening we cooked a couple of juicy sirloin steaks on the bbq and found we had just the one bottle left. Conventual wine wisdom says that a sirloin steak needs a full-bodied wine with good tannins that will help to break down the proteins in the meat, or some such thing. Had we considered that on the previous evening, and had we correctly predicted we'd be buying steaks the following day, we may have drunk the Brouilly with the cards and saved the Cabernet Sauvignon for the steak. I'm glad we didn't. 

It's true that even the producer (or marketeer) of this wine recommends drinking it with 'Chinese dishes, white meats (especially chicken) and cheese', but we found this very enjoyable as a pair with the cow. It was smooth and medium-bodied, but not thin. It weighs in at 13% abv and has some nice red fruit flavours. One of the non-wine drinkers, who is coincidentally a very keen and skilled gardener, smelled it an immediately exclaimed 'cherries!'. Tannin does not really feature, although not entirely absent. Very easy to drink and in my opinion a good match for anything , especially in the summer.

A day or so later I asked my friend which wine he had preferred. Yup, this one.

Buy again? Yes.

p.s. if you had forgotten, I had said more about the production of Beaujolais seven years ago. You can refresh your memory here.

Avesso

Welcome to lap six of my vinous alphabet. I think it's lap six, there have been a few breaks. Had I had an unbroken run I think this would be lap thirteen, but life got in the way. It's so much better not having to waste time as a wage slave, but the fritterable income did have its uses. 

This has been a week of great sporting achievement in the UK. England, specifically. The footballers beat the Germans for the first time in 55 years, various people briefly did well at Wimbledon and yours truly finished near the bottom of a ~100 strong field in my golf club's annual championship.

Time for some light relief:

Week A (2021) Encostas de Caiz, Avesso Vihno Verde 2020. £7.49 Lidl

It says more about me than I care to acknowledge that finding a white wine made from a grape whose name begins with A and which I haven't mentioned before is, by me, considered a success. Put into context against my golfing 'prowess' I think you can see it is the little victories in life that keep me going.

Whatever. Avesso has not featured in these pages before and I am pleased to address that. It is a grape from the north of Portugal, where it can be used to produce Vinho Verde, that light style of wine that often has a slight 'spritz' or petillance, as I believe the French like to call it.

I opened this one to accompany some baked gammon in a honey glaze, along with some perfectly cooked plant bits. First impressions are that it is clean, appealing, very easy to drink and good value for the not much money I had to part with to enjoy it.

Second impression is that the third glass is slipping down very nicely, thank you, and that I might stop typing this shortly, in order to have a nap.

It is not a big, serious, pompous wine that demands to have proper wine people eulogise over it, but it is very enjoyable. Lots of appley flavour, not bland, not sharp, just nice to drink. A bit moreish and, if nursey isn't watching too closely, another refill may be called for. It is more full-bodied than I expected and certainly not without substance. There is a hint of spritz, but nothing really worthy of the name.

I hope to be taking a golfing trip to Portugal later this year, pandemic permitting, a suspect that might prove to be an opportunity for 'tasting' more of that country's output, which is usually very good value, such as this week's wine.

Buy again? Yes, I think so. I may become a fan. 

Zinfandel

Two weeks ago I mentioned that my daughter recently told me that I had begun to repeat stories within a short space of time. Sorry to repeat that so soon. On the theme of repetition, I try to avoid choosing wines each week that I have chosen before and, therefore, I was reluctant to pick a Zinfandel for Week Z. I haven't had this Zinfandel before, but I have had a couple of them previously, more if you count the Primitivos which I have repeatedly explained are the same grape. I think my daughter has a point. As stories are the focus for the week we have:

Week Z (2021) 1000 Stories Zinfandel, 2018. £15 Tesco

On opening this bottle my first impression was that the colour was slightly less dense than I had expected, being mostly ruby with a few garnet hints. It smelled of rich fruits, somewhere between blackberry and black cherry and there was something herbal there, too.

On tasting it, I was again surprised that it wasn't as heavy or full as I expected, but more easily drinkable with a medium body. The alcohol, labeled at 14.5%, was not obvious and the tannins came out most in the finish when they showed their grip.

The producer says that old bourbon barrels are used for the maturation as when he began making wine French oak was had to come by, probably because it is made in California. He has stuck to this approach and credits those barrels with giving the wine some caramel, vanilla and herbal flavours. I thought I detected some tobacco, herbs (thyme?) and licorice on first tasting and, as I still have half a bottle waiting for tonight's Wimbledon / Euro 2020 editions, I will be interested to see what I think on the second lap.

I doubt you will be.

On that note, as I have said before (see the theme?), I doubt you are even reading this, however, recently I have been mildly surprised and a little bemused by the addition of readers' comments against a post I wrote in November 2015 on Merlot.  There are six of them, five of which have appeared in the last month, nearly six years after publication. I suspect they are either written by bots, or by otherwise unemployed students attempting to direct traffic to other blogs and websites (all the comments have links), or by aspirant influencers. Readership, according to Blogger stats, also appears to come from unexpected places: Russia, Indonesia, Hong Kong, for example. Perhaps someone thinks I could help to rig an election? Whatever the reason, you are welcome.

Buy again? Probably.

Yenda

Yenda is a town in The Riverina, a large irrigated agricultural area in New South Wales close to the confluence of the Murray and Murrmbidgee rivers, of only 1,503 people (as of the census in 2011). It is notable as the location of the headquarters of Australia's largest family-owned wine company which produces an almost unimaginable quantity of wine, sold under a number of well-known brands; Casella Family Brands.

Yellow Tail claims to be the 'most loved brand in the world' for the third year in a a row and has been producing wine since 2001. By 2013 they had bottled 1 billion bottles, using the bottling plant installed in 2006 that is capable of filling 36,000 bottles per hour! Yellow Tail is available in over 50 countries and represents the biggest wine export from Australia.

Week Y (2021) Yellow Tail Pinot Grigio 2020. £7 Tesco 

We know from the statistics above that this is a wine deliberately aimed at the mass market. It is cheap. I paid £7, but had I had a Tesco Clubcard I could have saved another £1. No loyalty card required to pay the same at Asda.

But is it any good?

I have typed before that I try to keep an open mind and I admit to having been a bit sniffy about Yellow Tail in the past. So this week I am again testing my prejudices.

One of the attractions of wine, according to many of the people who comment on such things, is that the consumer somehow enjoys the 'sense of place' that you get from drinking a good wine. Some would even say that it is this sense of place that makes a wine good. 

I have never been entirely comfortable that I know what a sense of place could possibly taste like. I have come to understand it as an abstract notion meaning the wine / beer / cheese / pork pie in question has something about it that similar products from elsewhere don't have. With beer, cheese and pork pies, all of which I enjoy very much, it is a much simpler decision to make; I like / I don't like this particular pie, piece of cheese, pint of beer. But with wine, because of the potentially extended lifespan of the product throughout which the characteristics of the product may change, it becomes a little trickier. A whole world of analysis and subsequent opinion has grown up across the world of wine. Magazines, books, websites, TV shows and even a plethora of partly informed blogs such as this one lend support to the notion that simply opening and drinking a bottle of wine the consumer isn't putting in enough effort to decide on its merits. S/he should be looking for more.

In this instance it could be argued that the wine doesn't have a sense of place. There are no faults in the wine. It is easy to drink, tastes clean and fruity, is lively and acidic without being tart or sharp, has an obvious sweetness and is inexpensive. It is rather one-dimensional, having no complexity, it is quite light and doesn't leave a lasting impression. If you put in the analytical effort to discover its hidden depths you will most likely be disappointed, as there aren't any.

But. Wait a minute. What is the place this wine comes from like? It is a vast, irrigated region producing very high volumes of acceptable quality foods a drinks. It has been made in a factory-style winery capable of producing more wine than it is feasible to imagine and that, in my opinion, is exactly what it tastes of.

My conclusion is this. I must be honest in my assessment and consider the merits of every wine I try in the context of what it claims to be. There is no point at all in declaring this wine is not as good as the Chablis I recently drank, costing £19.99 a bottle, because it isn't trying to convince me that it is! The Yellow Tail marketing says it is '...a wine brand that is easy to drink and delivers consistent quality, taste and value' and I think it does that. I don't particularly like it, but if I buy it again I am sure I will know what to expect. 

Any way you choose to look at it Casella Family Brands is a success story. If you don't like Yellow Tail, try Peter Lehmann from the Barossa Valley, Morris of Rutherglen or Bailey's of Glenrowan in Victoria as they, and others, are all now in the family. Not bad for a a Sicilian couple who emigrated to Australia in 1957, bought a farm in 1965 and started making wine in 1969. That's a little over 50 years to become Australia's largest wine exporter, so they must be doing something right.