US Presidential Election 2012 - and the winner is...

This is not a prediction of the outcome of the election, but the result of an entirely unscientific wine-based version of it, conducted by me here in Surrey with an electorate of just 80 people.

The “candidates” were all bottles of wine, their identities concealed; our electoral college, all members of wine groups belonging to the Fetcham University of the Third Age (U3A).  The voters were equipped with a wine glass, a ballot paper, their noses and tastebuds.

The tasters warmed up with a glass of something cold, pink and sparkling, then the first of the four wine “candidates” was poured.  At this stage of the campaign, all the voters had to do was to choose their favourite two wines and to vote for them, via the usual one person one vote method in a secret(ish) vote.  We were keen to uphold democratic principles.

Instead of the battle buses, debates and TV adverts, the candidates could use only what was in the bottle to get their message across.  We tasted each wine in turn and assessed their relative merits in terms of body, backbone, intensity, character, persistence and so on.  Good qualities for wines, but also, perhaps for those bidding for high office in one of the most powerful nations on earth.

Once all four wines had been tasted, our electorate cast their votes on their ballot papers which were collected in.  While the voters then tucked into a buffet supper, the tellers counted the votes and determined the result of our own version of the US Presidential Election.

When all the votes had been counted, one candidate emerged as a clear winner, thereby taking the President slot.  Second place was closer, with just a single vote separating the two wines competing for Vice President.  The final candidate was adrift by some distance.

Once the two winning wines had been announced, voters were given the kind of information you would expect at a wine-tasting – that is, what wines had they actually been tasting?  I think it’s fair to say that there was something of a surprise amongst the electorate that the cheapest two wines in the line-up had received the most votes.

  

This speaks volumes for the value for money and drinkability of the wines in question.  Out in front was The Winery of Good Hope Shiraz 2011, from South Africa and £7.25 from The Wine Society.  Voters responded to its lively spice-tinged fruit, depth of flavour and balance.

In second place came a white wine from the Abruzzo region of Italy.  The Contesa Pecorino 2011 (£8.95, also The Wine Society) had appealing pear fruit and juicy acidity.

These two wines managed to trump their much more expensive rivals.  

Château Mont-Redon Châteaneuf-du-Pape 2010 (£18.50, The Wine Society) was undoubtedly a well-made and good quality white (yes white Châteauneuf exists), but its relatively subtle fruit and understated charms failed to woo voters.  Fighting hard for second place, but ultimately falling short was Château Picque Caillou 2005, from Pessac-Léognan in Bordeaux (£18, The Wine Society).  Many loved its rich aromas of spiced red fruit and chocolate, but were less charmed by its angular body and dry finish.

What does this, perhaps shock, result show us?  Blind tasting puts wines on an equal footing and each one has to stand or fall on how it comes across to the taster – or voter – on the night.  If the wines had not been tasted blind, would the results have been any different?  I certainly think so.  We can’t help but be swayed by knowing what’s in the bottle, for good or bad.  A look at the label is worth a thousand sniffs, goes the saying.

So much for the wine tasting results.  I have promised you a wine election to mirror the US Presidential one.  Each of the wines tasted equated to a Presidential or Vice Presidential candidate in my mind – any guesses as to who is which?  Some lateral thinking is required!

The most straightforward one was, I think, the winner – the Winery of Good Hope Shiraz equated to Barack Obama.  It references the African origins of his Kenyan father, as well as Obama’s political tome The Audacity of Hope.

The formidable white Châteauneuf-du-Pape was intended to represent Vice President Joe Biden.  The wine’s name translates as the new palace of the Pope and Mr Biden is a notable Catholic.  Told you lateral thinking was required.

The third placed red Bordeaux represented Mitt Romney.  How so?  Romney’s Mormon faith is well documented and adherents often serve as missionaries in locations around the world for two years in their youth.  Romney’s mission took place in 1968 in Bordeaux – et voilà.

If you’ve been paying attention then you’ll know that Paul Ryan, Republican nominee for Vice President, must somehow be symbolised by an Italian white wine made from the Pecorino grape.  As well as being the name of a grape variety, Pecorino is also a type of cheese.  Paul Ryan is a native of, and still lives in, the state of Wisconsin, which makes so much cheese that its residents are colloquially known as cheeseheads.  Easy when you know I suppose.

So, in our entirely spurious election, Barack Obama was convincingly re-elected as President.  If this does come to pass then I will be the first to take the credit.

Rather more problematic is the election as Vice President of Paul Ryan to serve alongside him.  I’m not an expert on the American electoral system but, as far as I know, this would be unlikely, not to say impossible.  But if they can elect Ronald Reagan as President (twice), then never say never.

A passion for Pinot Noir

Pinot Noir can turn you mad.  Like the sirens of Homer’s Odyssey, whose irresistible song lured sailors to their death, it sings to you with its alluring perfume and beguiling fruit.  But if you do succumb, if you allow yourself to be seduced by this most seductive of wine grapes, then you are surely lost, and will be crushed upon the rocks of your obsession.  Condemned to a life dominated by the pursuit of the perfect Pinot, you will be haunted by memories of Pinots past, frittering away your money on fine Burgundy, only to be, mostly, sorely disappointed – and considerably poorer.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.  If you have not yet given in to the temptations of Pinot Noir flesh, then the safest option is to follow the example of Odysseus and to strap yourself, metaphorically, to the mast of your ship, allowing you to pass by and to continue your life’s voyage untouched.

It’s too late for me now, but you may be able to save yourselves.  If you haven’t yet been bewitched by the siren song of Pinot Noir, stop reading now.  If, however, you are one of the fallen, then wallow in what follows; sustenance to your obsession.

My personal quest for the perfect Pinot has led me on a vinous pilgrimage around the world.  Of course the very finest examples can be found rather closer to home, in Burgundy.  But, frankly, I’m too poor to be able to buy the best – and what on earth would be the point in not buying what you know to be the best?

Chile is starting to come up with some pretty good versions, especially from the Leyda Valley.  Argentina’s far south is capable of producing some fine, juicy Pinot.  California’s versions are opulent, sweet and alcoholic, often overplaying their hand and the best can rival Burgundy for price.  Oregon is renowned as the home of seriously fine, nuanced and delicate Pinot Noir, but there’s little of it about here and what there is, is mighty pricey.  Australia is beginning to win out in its struggle to produce sufficiently elegant Pinot in its generally warm, if not hot, climate.

New Zealand, however, will get many a Pinot-phile’s pulse racing.  The region making most noise for its Pinots has been Otago, way down in the South Island.  Most definitely cool (frosts are a regular feature) the grapes are able to ripen fully, while preserving wonderfully fresh, bright fruit.  We also see plenty of Pinot from Marlborough, at the northern tip of the South Island and a region more often associated with Sauvignon Blanc.  Their Pinots are mostly just fine and are getting better with each passing year, but for class and complexity, you need to make the short hop across the Cook Straits to Martinborough, in the very south of the North Island.

Crraggy Range's Te Muna Road vineyard

And what makes this region so special?  As always, it’s impossible to point to a single factor, but the combination of cool, positively windy sites, low-ish annual rainfall (very similar to Southeast England) and relatively older vines all play their part.  Soil-wise the key element is the Martinborough Terrace, whose 30,000 year old soils are made up of decomposed volcanic ash.  Most of the best vineyards snake along this terrace, which is now pretty much completely planted.  Old vines are often pointed to as a key to really fine wine and New Zealand is a land of young vines – but the leaps in quality with each vintage show the growing contribution of vine age, combined with the skill of the winemakers.

Martinborough Terrace

In terms of total New Zealand wine production, Martinborough is small, representing just 1.6% of the total.  Pinot Noir is the 60-odd producers’ speciality, representing 55% of plantings.  The ubiquitous Sauvignon Blanc is the next biggest, then come Chardonnay and a range of other white varieties.

Wines to feed your Pinot passion

Ata Rangi Pinot Noir - £34-40 from The Vineyard Dorking, The Guildford Wine Company, The Wine Reserve Cobham and slurp.co.uk

Ata Rangi is where it all began in Martinborough:  vines were planted here in 1980, at the dawn of the modern era of wine-making in New Zealand.  Their estate wine is the definition of Martinborough Pinot Noir.

One look at the price of this will tell you that a serious Pinot habit is an expensive one – don’t say you weren’t warned. 

If you can get hold of an older vintage, it’s definitely worth it.  The 2008 is smooth and harmonious and still full of lively, youthful cranberry and raspberry fruit, with hints of pencil shavings.  The 2006, at six years old is just beginning to show some of the maturing aromas that are like catnip for fans of Pinot Noir:  deep rose, clove and cinnamon spice in a fine, lively wine.

If the best part of 40 quid is too much (and it is for me), then Ata Rangi’s Crimson Pinot Noir, available for £16-20, gives you some of the class and excitement of its big brother, without the same staying power and ageing ability.

Escarpment Pinot Noir 2009 - £17.95 from slurp.co.uk

Look for the interplay of juicy fruit and spice, with tannins providing a sandy feel.  Over time this will develop a lovely silky-smooth texture.  Escarpment’s Kupe single vineyard Pinot Noir 2008, £19.99 from The Vineyard, Dorking, gives you a sense of the evolution of a wine that still has plenty of life in it.

Craggy Range Te Muna Road Pinot Noir 2010 - £20-22.50 from Taurus Wines Bramley and slurp.co.uk

Steve Smith MW of Craggy Range makes wines from the entire length of New Zealand’s wine growing areas, from Hawke’s Bay in the North Island, down to Central Otago, deep in the South Island.  All are top quality, but there’s something special about this Martinborough Pinot.  The fruit has a lovely ripeness and there is great density of flavour, but also fine tannins, elegance and, ultimately, refreshment.  Again, older vintages will show more – the 2008 is still a baby.

Awards! What are they good for? Absolutely nothing?

With apologies to Edwin Starr’s “War”.

Wine awards that is.  The summer of sport may have come to an end, but have no fear, for the wine awards season is now in full swing, with the winners awarded their own bronze, silver and gold medals in the major competitions.

But does it really make sense to judge wines and award them medals, just like Olympic athletes?  It’s not as if they’ve done something remarkable, like run really fast or thrown something a long way is it?

Awards are useful for a couple of things.  Firstly, pointing you towards a new wine that you haven’t tried before; and, conversely, confirming your already positive impression of a wine.  There’s nothing like having your own valued opinions confirmed by others for making you feel good.

And which competitions should you trust?  Some bottles are festooned with medals awarded in competitions that you have never heard of – do they really mean something? 

Australia, for example, has a well-established system of wine shows across their vast country.  Some well-performing wines can emerge from them looking like much-decorated army veterans, with rows of medals adorning the bottle.  In that country there is a strict training system for show judges, which is particularly hot on ensuring consistency of judging and on penalising any kind of wine fault.  So you can be sure that no wine that does well in Australia will be less than squeaky clean – whether your tastes coincide with Australian palates is less clear cut.

The Annual Wines of Argentina Awards, which have run since 2007, ensure they have a mixture of nationalities in their judging panel, which must surely make sense when export markets are so key for any major wine producing nation.  I am less keen on their policy of choosing one particular section of the wine business to judge each year – this time it was winemakers.  A more consistent and balanced set of results comes out of a mix, not just of nationalities, but background and experience.  Wine writers (ahem), educators, sommeliers, members of the wine trade – they all have something to bring to a judging panel.

Which brings me to the “big 3” of the UK wine awards jungle – the Decanter World Wine Awards (DWWA), the International Wine Challenge (IWC) and the International Wine and Spirit Competition (IWSC).  Each year, tens of thousands of wines are entered into these competitions and, around now, bottles with gold, silver and bronze medals proliferate on wine merchant and supermarket shelves.

I am a judge for both the IWC and IWSC, so can talk with confidence about the professional approach and rigour of these two.  Their judging procedures differ slightly – and DWWA differs again – but it’s interesting to see how, year in, year out, certain wines perform consistently well across the competitions.  This shows that, however the process might differ, the end results can be surprisingly similar – and quality will out.  And, let me stress, judges never get to know the identity of the bottles they are judging, beyond an indication of the wine’s origin and grape variety/ies.

To paraphrase E M Forster, two cheers for wine competitions.  They may not be perfect, but they are the best we’ve got.

Here’s a selection of wines I’ve tasted recently, or have long admired, and which have done well in competition this year.

Tilimuqui Fairtrade Torrontés 2011 – Argentina, £7.99 (but currently £5.99) a bottle from Waitrose

IWSC Silver – and Gold at the Wines of Argentina Awards

Sadly this 2011 vintage seems to be out of stock across most of Waitrose, though you might be lucky in your particular branch.  However, the 2012 is just as delightful – Fairtrade and organic, it is great value for money at full price and a steal at £5.99.  Torrontés flavours will not please everyone, with their tangerine peel and floral aromas, but give this a go if you’re feeling adventurous.

Amalaya White 2011 – Argentina, £7.65 a bottle from slurp.co.uk and other independents

DWWA International Trophy for dry aromatic wine under £10

I have to say I don’t like Decanter’s separation of wines into under £10 and over £10 for judging purposes:  a gold medal should be a gold medal, whatever the price.  The Decanter approach leads to a two-tier system where some golds are better than others.

That said, this is a cracking wine, made mostly from Argentina’s signature Torrontés grape, whose vibrant aromas are tamed with the addition of a little Riesling.  Dry, but intensely aromatic with hints of lychee, grapefruit and lime.  Drink on its own or with prawny things.

Plantagenet Great Southern Chardonnay 2010 – Australia, £16.05 from slurp.co.uk and other independents

IWC Gold, DWWA Silver

Plantagenet is a winery whose name crops up reliably across the major competitions.  This Chardonnay has great concentration of ripe but elegant fruit with nicely done oak to complement.  Also look out for their Riesling and Shiraz.

Cien y Pico “Doble Pasta” 2009 – Spain, £11.49 case rate at The Wine Reserve in Cobham

IWC Gold – also Trophy in the Sommelier Wine Awards

The best of old and new Spain in a bottle.  Full-on, ink-dark, brooding fruit from low-yielding ancient Garnacha vines, but clean and fresh too and bottled under screwcap.

Mount Horrocks Cordon Cut Riesling 2011 – Australia, £19.95 from slurp.co.uk and other independents

IWC and DWWA trophy

A year in which this wine didn’t score at least a gold medal in a major competition would be a shocker.  This Michael Phelps of a wine is an intense delight for the senses.  Lusciously sweet and piercingly bright Riesling from the Clare Valley, its flavours are concentrated by literally cutting through the vine’s canes in order to cut off the water supply as the grapes ripen.

Lustau East India Oloroso Sherry – Spain, £9.75 from Waitrose

IWSC Silver

The Lustau name is always a guarantee of quality when it comes to sherry.  Sweet, dark, sticky, figgy, nutty.  So unfashionable, yet so delicious and something to warm anyone’s cockles over the coming months. 

Sauvignon de St Bris - a hidden gem?

Anyone who claims to know all of France’s wine appellations (or PDOs as we should now learn to call them) is either a liar or has an extraordinary capacity for memorising lists.  There are literally hundreds of them, ranging from the world-famous (Châteauneuf-du-Pape, Chablis) to the vanishingly obscure.  Wines labelled Irancy, to name but one, are hardly household names, even in their own neighbourhoods.

Others, while obscure, stick in the mind.  Sauvignon de St Bris is one such.  The area of production is titchy, yet it’s a micro-region that I’ve known about ever since cramming for my Wine Diploma years back, learning that this is the only part of Burgundy where Sauvignon Blanc is grown.  I memorised that single fact as a way to avoid a trick question in an exam, then promptly moved on, content never to know more about this renegade Chardonnay-shunning corner of Burgundy, let alone know what the wines might actually taste like.

This summer, however, I finally set foot in St-Bris-le-Vineux, an attractive and typically deserted village in the valley of the Yonne river in a northern corner of Burgundy, which is the centre of production, such as it is.  St Bris is much closer to Chablis than to the Côte d’Or, so while yes, technically it is part of Burgundy, it is a long way from the heartland of the region.

When you ignore the administrative boundaries and just look at a map of France, it becomes clear that while St Bris may be next door to Chablis, it is also only a short drive from the Loire Valley and those twin powerhouses of Sauvignon Blanc:  Pouilly Fumé and Sancerre.  Why they grow Sauvignon and not Chardonnay here begins to make more sense.

St Bris shares the same Kimmeridgian and Portlandian soils as those found in Chablis, thereby giving a tantalising hint of what Chablis might taste like, if it was made with Sauvignon Blanc instead of Chardonnay.  You've never wondered this?  Oh, just me then.

What I hadn’t learned as part of my Diploma studies, was that this area also makes red wines from Pinot Noir, in line with Burgundian orthodoxy.  These are pleasant oddities, light and lacy versions of an already light style of wine – the kind of thing to chill and sip in the garden on a sunny day. 

And, to my surprise they also make wines from Chardonnay here (so much for my Diploma studies), though these Pinot Noirs and Chardonnays are entitled only to the generic label of “Bourgogne Côtes d’Auxerre”, a designation used to mop up various little vineyards around the town of Auxerre and which fall outside the Chablis area.  Sauvignon de St-Bris can only be used for, well, Sauvignon.

In St-Bris-le-Vineux (the clue is in the name) I hopped out of the campervan and decided to try some wine.  British tourists abroad often cite the difficulties involved in visiting wineries in France.  It is true that the willingness to knock on the doors of places which look resolutely closed and the ability to speak at least some French are pre-requisites.  I took the sign “cave ouverte” on a wine press outside one producer’s house as an encouragement.

Despite the “ouverte” claim, all looked deserted.  Having managed to disturb the lunchtime semi-siesta of an elderly lady, I was pointed in the direction of a bell to be rung.  In the manner of the shopkeeper in Mister Benn, a man emerged, as if by magic, from an ivy-camouflaged door that I had not noticed and I was welcomed into a cool tasting cellar.

Alert, perhaps, to my intention of tasting the Sauvignon de St Bris and then scarpering, having ticked it off my mental list of wines to taste before I die, Monsieur Goisot of Domaine Goisot Anne et Arnaud insisted that I start by tasting his Chardonnay.

Chardonnay-shmardonnay.  Was it really possible that this lowly Côtes d’Auxerre Blanc could have something to contribute to our understanding of that noble variety that its illustrious neighbours in Chablis and the mighty Côte de Beaune had not already done more emphatically, elegantly and eloquently? 

In a word, no.  Dear reader, Côtes d’Auxerre Blanc is no undiscovered gem.  M Goisot’s Chardonnay was perfectly decent with some peachy, floral aromas and a nutty, savoury palate.  But no scales dropped from my eyes; I was not moved to forsake Grand Cru Chablis or Chassagne-Montrachet forever more.  I moved on to the main attraction.

And what is it like?  St Bris Sauvignon may not have the depth and concentration of the best wines from Sancerre and Pouilly, but it does have distinct fragrance and a gentle, stony persistence in the mouth.  There is a softness, allied to the characteristic crisp acidity of the variety, that makes for pleasant holiday drinking. 

I bought some of M Goisot’s wines, along with another Sauvignon from a neighbouring domaine, Philippe de France, on my travels, so I will be able to find out if this is one of those wines that tastes perfect as part of a carefree sunny holiday, but that loses something in the move to a greyer, cooler UK, with work and family concerns to contend with.

I think you are more likely to trip over a black cat while on your way to redeem a winning National Lottery ticket than you are to stumble across any Bourgogne Côtes d’Auxerre, Rouge or Blanc, in mainstream wine outlets in this country - or in France for that matter.  However, you do stand more chance of happening on a bottle of Sauvignon de St-Bris.  The two domaines I visited do not seem to be imported into the UK, but there are a number of others that you can search out – so you can tick this wine off your list too.

French specialist merchants Nicolas list a Sauvignon de St Bris from the excellent Chablis-based co-operative, La Chablisienne, Les Vaux Sereins at £9.99.  Waitrose has Simonnet-Febvre’s version for £9.99.  Highly regarded organic producer Domaine Goisot’s Sauvignon de St Bris 2009 is available from slurp.co.uk at £10.49 a bottle.

The other French fizz

“Champagne, in victory I deserve it.  In defeat, I need it.”  This quote, attributed to Napoleon, says a lot about Champagne.  It is an emblematic, almost talismanic, substance which transcends mere wine.  When marking an important event, nothing fits the bill like Champagne. 

You can test this out by popping the cork on a bottle of Champagne and just wait for someone to ask “What’s the special occasion?”  Don’t try this when on your own, obviously.

Sometimes though, we might just fancy a bottle of fizz, without the extra baggage (and hefty price tag) of Champagne.  British drinkers have taken Italian Prosecco to their hearts in recent years.  Very different in style from Champagne, it’s all about fresh fruit, lightness and frothiness, allied to a little sweetness.  I’m all for a glass of it at the start of the evening, but one is usually plenty.

If you are craving the more restrained and dry style of Champagne, then the other French fizz – Crémant – could be for you.

And what is Crémant?  Very simply, it is sparkling wine made in the same way as Champagne, but from outside the Champagne area.

French wine law is based on the principle of guaranteeing the origin of what you are drinking – that the wine in the bottle is from the area designated on the label.  Champagne, for drinkers, may just be shorthand for any sparkling wine.  However, in legal terms, in order for Champagne to appear on the label, the contents must be sparkling wine from the Champagne region around Reims in northern France.

It also has to conform to a certain method of production – more of that in a moment.  So, if you are a winemaker in any other part of France, and wish to make a sparkling wine in the same way as Champagne, your product can be called Crémant.

How is wine made to sparkle?  In its simplest form, carbon dioxide can be forced into any still wine, resulting in a fizzy one.  Anyone with a SodaStream will be familiar with the process – and if you do have one, why not do a little experiment with any cheap bottle of wine and see the result?  I’m confident that a bottle of Gallo White Zinfandel could be immeasurably improved in this way.

The other, more classy way, to make a sparkling wine is to provoke a second fermentation in a still wine.  This is done by adding yeast, and sugar for it to feed on, to the wine.  Alcoholic fermentation produces carbon dioxide and, if not allowed to escape into the atmosphere, will become dissolved in the wine.  This second fermentation can take place either in the bottle, which is the only way permitted for Champagne, Crémant or anything labelled “traditional method” sparkling wine.  Or it can be carried out in a sealed tank, which is used for Prosecco and many other good quality sparkling wines around the world.

Sediment in the bottle

"pupitre" with hand-riddled bottles

Second fermentation in the bottle permits long ageing on the dead yeast cells (or lees) and the development of complex flavours and fine, long-lasting bubbles.  However, those dead yeast cells need to be extracted somehow, if the final wine is to be crystal clear and not murky with sediment.  This is achieved firstly by gradually tipping the bottles from a horizontal to a vertical position over a number of weeks (if done by hand) or days (if done in a specially designed machine named a gyropalette), a process known as riddling. 

a gyropallette

Then, to extract the sediment the process of disgorgement takes place.  The necks of the upturned bottles are dipped in a sub-zero temperature solution, creating a frozen plug of sediment.  This is then ejected by turning the bottles upright and removing the bottle cap.  The frozen sediment shoots out under pressure from the carbon dioxide-induced fizziness in the wine.  The bottle is then topped up with wine, plus some sugar solution (or dosage) to give the required sweetness level from ultra brut (no sugar) to demi sec (40grams per litre or so).  Cork on and voilà, the wine has completed its transformation into fizz and just needs to rest and recover from all the excitements of riddling and disgorgement.

Sediment in the neck of the bottle post-riddling

 Many French wine regions produce Crémants, some of which more or less resemble Champagne, especially if they use the traditional Champagne grapes, Pinot Noir and Chardonnay.  Crémant from the Loire will be dominated by Chenin Blanc, which is plentiful there, giving it a different flavour profile.  Alsace, which is the biggest Crémant producing region, tends to make its Crémant from the fruity and neutral Pinot Blanc.  Here are some that you might come across in this country.  But the best fun is to be had – and of course keenest prices - if you come across a crémant producer on your own travels in France.

Langlois-Château Crémant de Loire - £11.50 from www.thechampagneshop.com

Langlois is part of the Bollinger stable, so they know a thing or two about creating quality bubbles.  Chenin Blanc is complemented by Chardonnay, and lees ageing has given it bready aromas and flavours.

Pfister Crémant d’Alsace - £14.65 from www.slurp.co.uk

Unusually for Alsace, this is 50% Chardonnay, giving the wine elegance to complement the fruit of the Pinot Blanc.  Made by a young female winemaker who clearly knows what she’s doing.

Louis Bouillot Perle de Vigne Crémant de Bourgogne - £9.99 a bottle when you buy 2 at Majestic

Crémant de Bourgogne is geographically closest to Champagne and is the Crémant that we see most often in this country.  This one is a  reliable quality fizz from a big producer where noble Chardonnay and Pinot Noir rub shoulders with lowlier varieties Gamay and Aligoté.

Grouse-ing about wine

Last Sunday was the Glorious Twelfth, when the grouse shooting season opens.

I don’t know about you, but the closest I’ve come to a live grouse is when picking up a bottle of a certain brand of Scotch whisky.

The red grouse, the bird in question, is native to the British Isles and can legally be shot from now until 10^th December.  As young heather forms an essential part of the grouse’s diet, the hunting takes place predominantly on the heather-rich moors found in the north of England and in Scotland.  Unlike pheasant, which are commercially reared in huge numbers, grouse are truly wild birds, whose population will vary from year to year, hence they are harder to come by.  Additionally they are apparently fast and unpredictable flyers, making them the ultimate challenge for a game bird shooter.

A day’s grouse shooting is not a pleasure that everyman (or woman) can indulge, with the cost involved making it primarily a rich man’s game.  If you wanted to go shooting a few brace this week, you could be looking at in excess of £20,000 per person for a day. 

Having your own grouse moor is, of course, one way to ensure access to a few days’ shooting.  A brief perusal of Country Life a few years ago enlightened me on the importance of such things in upper class mating rituals:  apparently a key question when assessing a potential bride was, “How many acres of grouse moor does she come with?” 

And what wine to serve with your bird?

If you are heading north to bag a few dozen brace of grouse yourself, then clearly money is no object and you will doubtless be plucking a fine mature Burgundy or 1982 claret laid down by your father in your capacious wine cellar.  Or you’d get the butler to get it for you, obviously.

If, on the other hand, you have more modest means, there are plenty of restaurants who will be serving up special grouse and other game menus from now on.  Grouse is the first game to come into season, but will be joined by partridge in September and woodcock and pheasant from October.  A game dealer advised me that the best way to enjoy grouse is when someone else has cooked it for you - sound advice that will resonate with many a cook.

Buying from a game dealer will cost you around £10-12 per bird for grouse around now, with prices dropping as the season progresses.  Remember they are small creatures and you need to allow one per person.

And to drink:

The traditional match for anything labelled game is red Burgundy.  Pinot Noir, the red grape of Burgundy, develops what are politely called gamey (sometimes even farmyardy) aromas as it ages.  It is also relatively low in tannin and light in colour, making it a good match for game, which falls somewhere between the traditional white and red meat divisions.

All game is not identical of course and even the same species will taste different as the season progresses.  A young grouse shot in August with little or no hanging time is going to be a very different beast to one you eat later in the Autumn.  The older bird will have more flavour, but also be more chewy.  Similarly, young pheasants are tender enough to make suitable roasting birds early on, but by the time you’ve got to Christmas, a slow-cooked stew is the best option.

If you have access to mature Burgundy or claret, then I would heartily recommend uncorking it with your game.  If not, then try one of these:

Beaujolais

Beaujolais-Villages, Château de Souzy 2010/11 - £10.70 from slurp.co.uk

If the sun is still shining when you tuck in to your game, then a lightly chilled Beaujolais, made from the Gamay grape, could be just the ticket.  Get hold of the 2011 if you can:  a hint of savoury animality along with juicy, cranberry fruit and a hint of bitterness give a palate-cleansing feel to the finish.

Côtes du Rhône

Les Dauphins Côtes du Rhône-Villages 2011 - £7.99 from Waitrose

Southern Rhône reds have the right combination of peppery, weighty dark fruit and a herbal dimension to get along nicely with game – roast pheasant would be fine with this.  This one also has a definite mineral grip to give the palate a wash and brush up between mouthfuls.

Claret

Diane de Belgrave Haut-Médoc 2008 - £15 from Oddbins

Not a 1982 classed growth, but a charming and refined claret that is just beginning to show some maturity.  Enticing aromas of blackcurrant, plum and pencil shavings (enticing to me anyway) lead onto a smooth palate of dense black fruit with a hint of twiggy bramble.  The tannins in this are a definite step up from the previous two, making it a match for later season game birds or the darker meat of wood pigeon, which is always in season, as it’s regarded as a pest. 

Fifty Shades...and other guilty pleasures

I don’t need to fill you in on the subject matter of the Fifty Shades series of novels I’m sure.  In any case I haven’t read any of them so, in the interest of journalistic integrity, I will not pretend that I have, even for the purposes of an almost entirely spurious wine-based pastiche of the guilty pleasure genre.

Sometimes I want to read something challenging, absorbing, demanding and densely written which will stay with me long after the book has been finished.  Other times I just want a page-turner to while away a few hours:  it will grip at the time but I’ll barely remember having read it in a few days.

When choosing what to eat, sometimes I will relish the prospect of spending time in the kitchen, lavishing attention on what I hope will be a delicious result.  At other times, a takeaway curry will do nicely thank you.

I think you get the drift here. 

Drinking wine should always be a sensory pleasure, but sometimes it is also an involving, almost intellectual exercise.  I have enjoyed some of Bordeaux’s finest wines, and at their very best they can offer an almost transcendent drinking experience.  But equally they can have an austerity that requires attention and appreciation from the drinker.  What I’m saying is that I do have to be in the mood to appreciate them.

When I don’t want to make that effort, what do I reach for?  What is my wine equivalent of a few pages of Fifty Shades?

Sweet and bubbly

Liking sweet wines does feel like an intellectual failing – these are wines for the novice and the young; a childish appetite that should have been lost along the way to becoming a fully functioning adult.  Sweet AND bubbly – well, I can practically feel the noses being looked down.

Moscato

I am not alone in my love for moscato, as it has become the fastest growing wine style in the US.  Sweet, fizzy, sometimes even pink to boot, it is the most unreconstructed of guilty pleasures.

Asti, in Italy, produces sparkling Asti by the lakeful (or, more accurately, tankful).  It used to be called Asti Spumante (meaning sparkling) but the spumante has now been dropped.  If Beverly of Abigail’s Party were going to offer you something fizzy, it would surely have been this.

Regular Asti, with its sweet, fizzy grapiness is great for sloshing onto a fruit salad, but it does have a slightly more well-groomed, but still fun-loving cousin in Moscato d’Asti.

Moscato d’Asti is usually made by smaller producers, in a rather more artisan way.  It is still sweet and fizzy; in fact it is often higher in sugar than regular Asti, though it doesn’t taste it.  It is more lightly sparkling and has wonderful aromas and flavours of ripe pear.  Allied to low alcohol, this is a great wine for rounding off a lunch party – with or without fruit salad.

Recommended moscatos (moscati for sticklers)

Moscato d’Asti 2011, Elio Perrone - £6.50 from The Wine Society

Just 5% alcohol means this is barely wine, but it has plenty of grapey, aromatic fruit to satisfy a sweet toothed wine lover.

Innocent Bystander Pink Moscato 2011/12 – around £6.50-6.99 for a 37.5ml bottle from slurp.co.uk, Guildford Wine Company

Not content with being sweet and fizzy, this adds being pink to its list of crimes against good taste.  A half-bottle with a beer bottle style crown cap it may be, but you won’t find many men propping up the bar with this in their hand.  No matter, they will miss out on the hints of rose petal and red fruit that burst out of this perfect picnic fizz.

Blanquette de Limoux

By the time the Champenois documented their method for making sparkling wines in the late 1600s, the locals of Limoux down in the Languedoc had been making wines with fizz for over a century.  Unfortunately they didn’t get a patent lawyer onto the case and it is Champagne that has become the global brand, rather than Blanquette de Limoux.

Most Blanquette de Limoux is dry, but there is a small production of sweet Blanquette de Limoux Méthode Ancestrale.  This “ancestrale” method involves a second fermentation in the bottle, like Champagne.  Unlike Champagne, some sweetness remains and the alcohol is lower.

Blanquette de Limoux Méthode Ancestrale NV - £9.50 from The Wine Society

The Mauzac grape used to make this has a real appley tang, making this taste like superior Appletiser for grown ups.  It may only be 6.5% alcohol, but probably best to keep an eye on the kids with this super quaffable stuff around.

Brachetto

Brachetto is not half of an Italian cross-dressing comedy duo, but the name of a grape.  This is a step further towards a red wine from the Pink Moscato above, but it is still light, frothy and sweet, with strawberry flavours.  I’ve recommended a fairly pricey and relatively serious (for the style) Brachetto here, but look out for cheaper versions too.

Contero Brachetto d’Acqui 2011 - £15.99 from Virgin Wines

Red fruits, rose petals and only 5.5% alcohol make this a fun fizz on its own, but you could try it with one of those pretty French patisserie glazed strawberry tarts or even as a foil to things chocolatey.

Just as man (or woman) cannot live by bread alone, or indeed read only the most edifying of literature, sometimes a little of what you fancy….well, you know the rest.