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.