The 30 second summary: seven mystery bottles, three Masters of Wine, outrageously straight-faced bluffing, much debate, occasional coin-tossing and much laughter. And some good wine too, thanks to the generosity of our three presenters.
The long read
Michael opened the batting for one of his own bottles, the Maurice Vesselle Grand Cru champagne he has just started to import. The line was that this was the result of a last pre-Brexit booze buying trip. From Bouzy no less, 80% Pinot Noir, 20% Chardonnay and no malolactic – hence the brisk acidity.
Jonathan (fresh from evensong and out to save our desperate souls from despicable misrepresentation) was dismissive. Nova Scotia, he insisted. A much-medalled sparkling wine from Benjamin Bridge (yes, he does exist and he does make brilliant sparkling wine). Serious stuff at a serious price. Find it in the Fulham Road … apparently.
Richard confirmed Mr Bridge’s existence, He’d been there (It turned out that whatever wine was under consideration he’d been there to educate the next generation of MWs). Forget Champagne, forget Nova Scotia, this was from the foot of the Alps (hence the acidity). Trento DOC and made by a man named Ferrari (he too exists; he too makes fabulous sparkling wine) who despised the Champenois for their self-indulgent laxity.
Richard won the round, persuading three tables to back Signor Ferrari’s fizz; two (correctly) went for Michael; one for Nova Scotia’s finest.
Round Two featured an Alsace blend of Riesling and Pinot Gris brought by Richard. Jonathan went first with a heartfelt tribute to Sir Ken Morrison whose wine-flavoured beverages have fooled some of the most illustrious of us in past years. This particular wine, he asserted was a New Zealand Verdelho from Hawkes Bay. Aromatic, perfumed, succulent on the mid-palate. A very precise description of what was in the glass.
Richard was scornful of Jonathan’s tasting skills. No wonder we don’t trust his attributions. Of course we knew that Verdelho is only grown in Madeira. The twist here was that was an Alsace blend and Alsace doesn’t do blends does it? But, insisted Richard over our quizzical looks, these blends do exist and had won him over. This from Pfaffenheim was a high-class product of a high-class co-op. He rested his case.
For Michael this was putting the ‘Faff’ into Pfaffenheim in a big way. Of course there are no Alsace blends. Don’t be fooled. This was top class Verdicchio from La Monacesca. A wine like this needed Italian sun. He won no adherents to his cause and Richard scooped the pool with only two tables going for Jonathan’s Verdelho (of which more to come...).
Wine no. 3 was a White Rueda with lots of acidity, lots of freshness and sprinkle of oak.
This, said Richard, was Chilean Sauv Blanc from the Lleyda Valley. He’d been there. We could trust him.
No, no, no, said Michael. This is far too good for Chile – that Volvo of a wine-producing country! A long story of adultery, marital splits and revenge wine-making was told but the result was this excellent blend of 80% Verdejo and 20% Sauv Blanc.
Thou most ignorant monster (copyright William Shakespeare) was the gist of Jonathan’s rebuttal of this account. It was Gordon Russell’s New Zealand Verdelho (again). And this time we mostly believed him, though Michael did get two votes for his Rueda.
Fourth up was (at last) Gordon Russell’s New Zealand Verdelho. By now Jonathan had little to say apart from a reference to ‘cringing middle-class remainers’ (that was us by the way).
Michael sped into a paean to the new Germany the only wine-making country benefiting from global warming. Their wines were riper, Liebfraumilch was dead, and the coming generation of German wine-makers that he was truffling out had stopped selling to local co-ops and started to make the real stuff. A wonderful Riesling with a touch of residual sugar and 13% alcohol.
Richard’s riposte was that Liebfraumilch was still selling very nicely in Lidl thank you. But this was neither Riesling nor Liebfraumilch. Rather this was a tasty white Rhone. Very fresh but with a hint of warmth in the finish. Seventeen grape varieties. A dash of Bourboulenc (as we would know); indeed it should be obvious to us. This was ‘Bourboulenc screaming as only Bourboulenc can scream’. Claps all round but nobody believed him. Jonathan’s (correct) attribution was overwhelmingly judged to be the right one.
Onto the reds with a Chilean Old Vine Carignan provided by Jonathan. Opening the batting for his own wine, Jonathan quoted Scott Fitzgerald and reminisced on an MW trip to Chile which had clearly not gone well. The only ray of sunshine in a sea of Pais was this Old Vine Carignan, planted in the 1950s and forgotten for decades until producers Di Martino saw its potential. A field blend of course but brilliantly chewy and nicely feral.
Richard too had been there. He’d tasted it (of course). But this wasn’t it. No, we were savouring Californian Charbono (also known as Bonarda or Douce Noire). This was a cult wine from the Summers estate in Napa. Volcanic soils give the wine its mineral aspect and he felt there was an appropriate dash of maple syrup in the aromas.
Maple syrup?? Michael was having none of this ‘Breakfast Charbono’. This was Campo Viejo Rioja, apparently Franco’s gift to Spanish wine-making; a ‘National Treasure’ that epitomised all that was worst about Spanish wine. Who else would make such clumsy use of American oak (‘California’, said Richard emphatically), fake dirt, wire cages – the lot.
No one was convinced. Jonathan’s attribution again scooped the pool.
Wine no 6 was a Barolo provided by Michael.
First up with his attribution was Richard. Michael was stuck in Italy, Jonathan was meddling with micro-breweries. He was the man who’d been there (wherever it was). In this case it was Georgia. They’ve been making wine there for 6000 years and know a bit about it. Here was the result. This was oak-aged 2004 Saperavi that Richard has been saving for a discerning audience such as the Club. The heavy tannins of Saperavi had softened with oak-ageing (which had also mellowed the colour).
To muttered comments of ‘old goatskin’ and ‘bunch of mugs’, Michael took the floor. ‘Textbook Saperavi’ was a ‘nice try’ but far off the pitch. This was his Barolo; tracked down from a haphazard 1998 magnum found in a restaurant in Piedmont, its producer converted from bulk sales to special bottling for Michael. This was the cool 2011 vintage and surely we could smell it was the real thing.
The ‘smoothness of the man’ was Jonathan’s dismissal of Richard. He too had been to a Georgian tasting. The wines were terrible. Richard, he implied, was now a Tbilisi property magnate. They’d fallen for his snake-oil charms. He (Jonathan) told it as it was but ‘no-one wants honest feedback’. A small but welcome digression on the Georgian Orthodox Church and Maronite Christianity led us to Lebanon and the Bekaa Valley. This was 2011 Massaya wine, a bit rustic perhaps but developing fast with decent fruit and acidity. He rested his case.
Michael, narrowly, won the vote for his Barolo but each of the attributions found a mark or two at other tables.
Last wine of the night was the sweet red wine of Maury brought by Richard. Oh no, not if you believed Michael. For him this was the serendipitous product of historic Italian indolence. Just leave the grapes to air dry and you get Recioto. This was Corte St Alda’s wine made from Corvina and Molinara with that characteristic aroma of dried grapes.
Jonathan disagreed (of course). This was Andrew Quady’s Starwood port made in California. Quady uses a higher spirit level for a cleaner finish and the wine then gets four years in wood. ‘Batch 88’ it was – look out for the name.
Richard, closing down this debate, suggested that his fellow MWs had failed to honour the ‘virtuous promise’ made by all MWs to maintain their tasting skills. Michael and Jonathan’s verdicts suggested ‘failing abilities’. It was sad. He proceeded to give us a brief history lesson on the basis that if Jonathan could do theology he could do history. The kingdom of Majorca, Arnaldus de Villanova, 13th century patents… The end result was this sweet red wine whose fermentation had been stopped with alcohol. Mostly Grenache observed Richard. Nonsense said Jonathan – dates!
But we all believed Richard bar one supporter for Michael’s Recioto.
A wonderful evening – as always.
And made even better by the chance to revisit each of the wines over bread and cheese for a sociable finish to the evening.
GH: 17/2/17