Thursday 18 April 2019

Wine needn't be famous to be good

The trusty team of MT/YT have done it again, hosting a simple but lovely evening of conviviality, tasty food and ever-so gluggable booze for just a few of us, a last minute, throw-something-together kind of thing that spells pleasure from beginning to end - this could be the opening paragraph describing almost any casual invite to their place for a simple dinner and some decent wine!

They have a knack for making simple things very tasty including superb salads, whether they be simple or complex, always perfect in texture and dressed just right - crispy, tangy, wholesome little masterpieces that are better than any I've had in restaurants anywhere in years and years. The other day's (a few weeks ago, in fact....) was no exception, the crispy lettuce matching the tasty slivers of cheese and rounded off by the little sweet baby tomatoes, light and scrummy. It is their approach to food in general that defines these evenings: good ingredients treated with understanding, care and respect to make food that is enjoyable in every way.

Their most recent 'event' (last week, actually) featured little crostini bursting with flavours, a 'clafoutis' featuring roquefort cheese and walnuts (rich, rich, rich and delicious) and a goulash with genuine Hungarian input. And before you panic on my behalf, yes, there was something chocolatey to finish, though I was, for once, too stuffed to over-indulge...

'What about the wine' I hear you ask, exasperated that I have mentioned nothing, but am already in my fourth paragraph; well, it went like this:

1. Sancerre Caillottes 2012 from Francois Cotat, a relative youngster compared to the previous wine of his we tried and from young vines, this had a lovely bold, complex Sauvignon Blanc nose which stoked expectations, was immediately attractive on the palate but faded quickly, an extra-gluggable textbook Sancerre, not a grand wine. Very pleasant indeed.

2. Could a wine from the Jura be absent from a YT dinner? I know it happens occasionally, but he is passionate about the area, the wines and especially the quirky Vin Jaune and all its derivative forms. Vin Jaune eludes fashion trends and needs to be approached with care initially, but once you understand it you can easily fall under its spell. We had an 'almost Vin Jaune', made in the same way but kept for only (!) three and a half years, a 2010 Reserve du Caveau Savagnin (savagnin is the local grape variety); slightly lighter than its full-blown cousin, it still has the same remarkable qualities, is very dry, distinctive dried apricot palate, long and complex. The grower here, Lucien Aviet (a.k.a Bacchus) and his son Vincent make much sought after wines near Arbois, the capital of the region.

Ordinary Jura wines, the whites especially, have now been 'discovered' by a wider audience and thus gained in popularity in recent years, affecting prices, but the area remains delightfully traditional and old-fashioned, the people rustic and conservative, no 'designer label' nonsense here. Long may it remain so, at least in my lifetime! And while the rising prices are a disappointment for long-time fans, they do ensure that growers here can make a living producing their little masterpieces, thus securing a future for Jura wines and the people for whom they are a labour of love.

3. Rhone red wines are another weakness of mine - I adore their big, warm personalities - and their usually friendly nature. Cote Rozier is a large and, apparently, steep vineyard area in the Cote Rotie appellation of the Northern Rhone farmed by several growers; our wine was made by brothers Patrick and Christophe Bonnefond. Their vines are old, adding complexity and character to a robust wine, one often used in Cote Rotie blends to provide backbone, but here and from a good vintage (2001) showing class. Big ruby red colour, ripe red berries with some spice on the nose and palate, complex and long and, despite its age, able to stand up to the goulash beautifully. Not the most famous of Northern Rhone vineyards, Cote Rozier here produced a stunner, another gluggable delight.

4. The last table wine of the night - off your high horse, chaps, there were six of us for four bottles! - alas had no label, but was a blast from my not so recent past: Luis Pato Bairrada red 1985. Luis Pato (translates to Louis Duck, hence his use of ducks on his labels...), now justly one of the most revered winemakers in Portugal was just starting on his journey as a winemaker in his own right when, in the spring of 1986, I, guided by my subsequent business partner Antonio Lopes Vieira (Portuguese wine writer and university professor), visited his establishment. The 1985 was Luis' first vintage as a full-time winemaker and his first experiment with barrel ageing, as in Bairrada tradition the reds were never aged in wood, and the first vintage he made under his own name (1980) was aged in concrete - it was an impressively tannic, powerful, purple wine. For the 1985 vintage Luis had made two small barrels of the stuff as a tentative experiment; tasting from cask samples we bought the lot on the spot! The bottle showed surprisingly well, still alive and kicking, still balanced (1985 was an excellent vintage in the north of Portugal), a discreet herby, slightly musty nose leading to an aged but ripe palate, still with some complexity, still with some character and with a good, if not overly long, finish. Wow.


I met up with Luis again in London at a Portuguese wine tasting a year or two ago and we reminisced about the past and my then company (Wineforce), which had briefly taken the UK market by storm selling top quality Portuguese wine from small estates, before the recession of the late 1980s hit us and, eventually, killed us off. I also had an opportunity to taste his sparkling wine, now at last as good as many champagnes and by far the best Portuguese sparkler I've tasted.



I finished the evening with a sip of the Brazilian national obsession - cachaca, pronounced cashassa), a fermented sugarcane drink very popular for mixing or drinking straight. Ours was the dark cachaca, aged in wood by a company called Ypioca. I wish I could tell you about its artisanal background, but this is now big business and owned by global giant DIAGEO. Ypioca  apparently own the largest wooden barrel in the world, capable of holding three hundred and seventy four thousand litres, a weird claim to fame in my book. Our drink in the glass was a golden colour (hence ouro on the label) and similar to an aged grappa in characteristics, a tad crude for me but still a pleasant and educational way to end the evening. Hopefully it aided the digestion as well...

Now before the more knowledgable among you, dear readers, start complaining, I am aware that these were not unknown wines from producers no-one has ever heard of. They are not, however, big brands or wines that capture headlines left, right and centre; rather, they are wines known within the enthusiast community and not fashion icons or 'investment' fodder. They are products to love and drink rather than hoard and show off. In honour of these lovely bottles - and the many, many others still to be tasted - I promise to include better, more detailed tasting notes in future.


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