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Newsletter No. 20: 24th October 2005   

 

The world has an odd atmosphere as we delve deeper into autumn 2005. Avian flu stalks the planet like a malevolent secretary bird, ready to pick off the susceptible, like so many small and crunchy denizens of the African veldt. Already it has reached as far as UK quarantine. To mark the occasion, my nose has started streaming with my first cold for over a year. Thank goodness our favourite London tasting of the year has been and gone!

 

Hurricanes cause pandemonium in the US and Caribbean. Al Qu’aeda is probably calling it divine retribution.

 

I saw a red admiral butterfly yesterday in our garden: 23rd October. Some sort of record? Probably not, but it seemed very late for the boldly-marked fellow to be out and about.

 

Good vintages are coming along more and more frequently. If the news is to be believed, several of the classic appellations of Europe have experienced great harvests following another exceptionally hot and dry growing season.

 

Champagne houses have been buying up land in the South Downs in England. I am tempted to see how much of Pewsey Vale I can snap up. With all that chalk, I could be producing an English Cristal in a decade or so and supplying the rap music fraternity with expensive fizz, change my name to Pop Diddy and retire…




In this issue….

»  2003 Bordeaux (what, again?!)

»  2003 Port (and Wine of the Week)

»  Client Zone

»  What is a Food Wine?

 

 

2003 Bordeaux (what, again?!?)

It used to be called Vilar Floral Hall and, for the last few years, has been the location of the Union des Grands Crus tasting in London, the purpose of which is to give the UK's wine merchants and journalists an opportunity to have a look at the recently bottled Bordeaux vintage, in this case 2003. The name was recently abbreviated and is now back to plain old Floral Hall, Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, London, England, Europe, The World etc. Vilar, an American financier, has been dropped from the team. Having pledged £10,000,000 in funding, he could only come up with £4,000,000. I mean…what a tight wad. Hardly surprising they showed him the door.

 

In any event, this year there was a particularly acute air of excitement about an event that is, in any case, an eagerly awaited annual happening. We were gathering to re-examine wines that had polarised opinion as never before; a vintage that was entirely without precedent; a harvest that producers had been permitted, by law, to acidify (shock horror!). There were, quite clearly, answers required and the questions were legion. Here's just a taster:

 

·          Would non-acidified wines be chronically lacking in freshness?

·          Would the wines have any chance of ageing?

·          Would hugely concentrated levels of fruit and elevated levels of tannin in some way make up for measly degrees of acidity?

·          Are the wines we liked in Bordeaux more than a year-and-a-half ago the same wines we like now?

·          Are they even claret??

 

The Floral Hall is an impressive space and tends towards the warm, as it has an ornate, arching glass roof. With 200 flapping, swirling, chattering wine trade individuals housed therein, it was no time for jacket and tie, I can tell you. So…books out, heads down, take up your glass and walk, or, rather, elbow your way around the various appellations in a 4 hour work-out for the taste-buds and the ultimate test of stamina.

 

The result? In general, I was more than reassured. Since bottling, these wines (like the burgundies we have tasted, incidentally) have firmed up, gaining in focus and definition. Acidity is, of course low-ish, but there is no lack of grip in the best of them. Not only are the best - and there are many very, very good wines in the vintage - intense and age-worthy, they are also very indicative of their origins. The exaggerated heat of 2003 appears to have forced the roots of the vines to suck hungrily at the vineyard soil, any moisture found saturated with the local minerals, the minerals in turn finding their way into our glasses.

 

A Few Generalisations about the Vintage:

 

·          The further north one travels in the Médoc, the more focussed and pure become the wines

·          The best of these wines are going to keep like the dickens

·          There are exceptionally fine wines on both banks

 

There were many highlights of the tasting. To mention just a couple of wines that, for me, stood out, I found Figeac and Pontet-Canet to be superb. The former was rammed full of the kind of natural intensity that one finds elsewhere in, say, a she-Pit Bull protecting her pups from the nice man from the dog pound. This is being slightly unfair, as the wine is actually far from being aggressive. What it is is a pent-up ball of tannin-wrapped fruit. It is like Gothic architecture. The Pontet-Canet is notable for its purity and (get this!) elegance. It's still architecture. It's just more rococo.

 

N.B. Remarkably, we still have a couple of case of the Figeac remaining at £348 in bond a dozen bottles, which I think (given that claret is now notoriously bad value) is a pittance for a wine this good. We have a few other '03s remaining, too. Do go to the bin end list at our website if you'd like to find out which, or contact me if you would like an up-to-date tasting note of the wines you've bought.

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2003 Port (and Wine of the Week) 

I thought port sales from this offering had been kind of slow. Mentioning this to several colleagues in the trade, it appears that everyone's been experiencing a similar phenomenon and the reason for this slight dearth of interest (everyone sold a great deal more 2000 vintage port than they have '03, despite the fact that 2003 is a markedly superior vintage) has been the cause of some speculation.

 

The main explanation proffered has been that this style of wine - sweet and fortified - is falling yet further from fashion. Sweet wines in general are not top of the pops, but add that extra slug of morning-after headache (the 5 or 6 degrees of extra alcohol afforded by the process of fortification) and one gets something that doesn't sit comfortably with the current vogue for low-cal, fat-free, mineral water-addicted, no-added-anything living. Quel dommage, the Portuguese might say, if having an especially polyglot moment.

 

One's impression is that the shunning of port (that most English of drinks) has been less of a crash and more of a gentle slide that's been taking place for decades. In fact, figures show that there has been the whiff of a renaissance in recent times. Sales of port in the UK, including the fine stuff up the vintage end, have been rising in a slightly non-committal sort of way for a while now. So what's turned the tap in the off direction for the '03s? All reviews have been positive; it's clear that there's nothing wrong with the wines themselves.

 

I have started to wonder whether collectors are a little '03-ed out. I get the impression that many consider that there's only a finite amount of room in their portfolios for the product of any one vintage and with '03, there was a great deal in which to be interested: Bordeaux (see above), the Rhône Valley and Burgundy (despite some unnecessary caveats from certain sceptics who think that Pinot can't take the heat) have been the centre of attention. To be approached once again by one's wine merchant and requested to hand over a small pile of the folding stuff for the product of yet another region that's hit a high note in the vintage might suggest that a superfluity of egg has been added to the crème anglaise.

 

In an attempt to whet a few appetites and create a final small flurry of interest in the offering, let's move seamlessly into the Wine of the Week:

 

12th October saw us at the Bath Spa Hotel for a tasting and presentation given by Paul and Johnny Symington. For those not "in the know", the Symington family between them own or control the port houses of Quarles Harris, Gould Campbell, Smith Woodhouse, Quinta do Vesuvio, Warre, Dow and Graham. There's safety (and quality, believe me) in numbers.

 

Over the course of the tasting, we swooshed our way through the following samples: 1963 Dow; 1966 Warre; 1970 Graham; 1977 Smith Woodhouse; 1980 Dow; 1983 Graham; 1985 Warre; 1995 Vesuvio' 1996 Quinta de Malvedos (Graham), and 1998 Quinta Senhora da Ribeira (Dow). We both spat. Some didn't. Those that didn't can evidently handle being pre-prandially plastered.

 

We drank the following baby at the end of lunch:

 

1934 Warre

This is fully mahogany with the faintest olive light at the rim and a very slightly pinkish cast.

The nose is old and mellow and (obviously) fully mature. I scented dried fruits and peel: raisins and prunes (notes of Pedro Ximenez, perhaps). There was an aroma I fancifully described as baked walnut liqueur, along with a touch of molasses and something I noted as "cereal".

The palate is still concentrated and full of intensity and intent. In fact, this bristles with intensity. There are woody, walnut flavours. The finish is quite dry. There is still vigorous grip and the finish coats the mouth, all ending up fresh and mineral and quite delicious.

 

If you have a stash of this wine, be in no hurry to drink it up. But do try a bottle from time to time. You'll find it most rewarding.                                                                                                             

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Client Zone

It's a question I have asked elsewhere before, but what is the point in collecting stuff? Bertie Wooster's Uncle Tom collected cow creamers and, when Bertie wasn't nicking them, enjoyed displaying them around the house.

With some notable exceptions, a collection of wine is not made to display. Its atmospheric requirements in terms of humidity, light levels etc. preclude one from showing off one's senior bottles on the mantelpiece above the inglenook fireplace. The pleasure of wine is, of course, in the drinking. But are there other pleasures to be gained from the collection itself? I would argue that there most certainly are.

 

Wooster's Uncle enjoyed looking at his antique creamers, of course. But they also fired his interest, creating a desire for knowledge of the things, encouraging him to "study the form", as he may very well have put it. It is likewise with wine and Bowes Wine has now made it a great deal easier for its clients to enjoy their collections of wine, giving the option to "display" their portfolios on the internet. Not very P.G. Wodehouse, I know, but I am sure that Jeeves would have approved.

 

If you have yet to register for access, the process is very simple and more or less instantaneous:

-                    go to

-                    click on Request a password

-                    wait for your random password to be emailed to the address you specify

-                    then log on with your email address and your new password

-                    once into your Client Zone, you can change the password to something more memorable.

 

It's the next best thing to descending into one's own cellar and cuddling the bottles themselves. For the ease of combining business with pleasure, one's statement of account is available from the same source.

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What is a food wine?

This is something of a dilemma with us here at Bowes Wine. You see, when sourcing wine for our drinking list, we really want to be pleasing all the people all the time and, as we all know, this is seldom possible.

 

Increasingly, I get the impression that what wine drinkers really want is a "catch all" sort of a wine, the main requisite being that it can be uncorked and consumed with pleasure "any time, any place, any where".

 

We show our drinking wines at tastings and amongst them will always be an example or two of what is traditionally known as a "food wine". In these situations, wines like this don't sell themselves. Next to those wines made to be aperitifs or party wines, food wines look too cerebral, too much like hard work.

 

The ultimate embodiment of a food wine is Lambrusco, the proper, DOC examples of which are lean, austere, bitingly dry and acidic when consumed without food, but with a meal, especially the sort of meals one finds served up in their region of origin (i.e. Emilia-Romagna, home of the Bolognaise sauce) become rich and succulent (as well as probably assisting in the breaking down of animal fats that may have built up over the course of the meal.

 

This is an age in which cheap sweets are common, flavours are being standardised and we're all looking for instant gratification. Maybe the era of the food wine is coming to a close and we'll all be drinking soft, virtually-tannin free, low acidity wines forever more. I, for one, hope not.

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