|
[For the
uninitiated, a 'blog' (or weblog)
is a web journal with links. This gives me a chance to add short, 'off the record' style items that
wouldn't merit a separate article. I try my best to keep entries informal,
frequent, brief and (hopefully) interesting. For more information
about Jamie Goode, see the about the author
section. ]
Wednesday
9th June 2004
It's a tough life being a wannabe wine journalist. One of the
hardest aspects of the job is saying no to things you'd really like to
do. Yesterday I had to say no to an all expenses paid weekend watching
England play France in Portugal. This opening Euro 2004 game is one of
the most eagerly anticipated games in recent years, and I could have
been there. But it doesn't fit with family commitments, and I've made
an unspoken rule to myself that for the next few months I'm only going
to accept trips if they are going to meet a threshold level of
usefulness in terms of what I'm doing for wineanorak, the magazines I
write for and the book. Besides, England will probably lose. I'm quite busy at the
moment, having just finished a batch of commissions, including writing
the sections on Portugal, Port, Austria and Germany for the Which?
Wine Guide 2005. I enjoyed writing these but it was hard work for
relatively little money, partly because of the innovative new style of
the guide means you have to write very tight (thus it takes a lot of
time to write 1000 words). I think the new format will mean that the 2005 edition will
be a lot better than in previous years. Should be on the shelves in
October. Regular readers will be aware of my obsession with Portuguese
wines. I'm developing a bit of a fixation with Austrian wines, too,
which I think are fascinating, and I'm keen to develop my interest in
German wines.
What
is being 'busy' all about, though? To some extent, I think it's a
frame of mind people get themselves into. It's almost as if they live
in a place of busy-ness - that the state of 'being busy' underpins
everything that goes on in their mental space. For this reason, I
try to avoid thinking of myself as busy. I'm going to, as far as it is
possible, set my own priorities and make sure that what I end up doing
with my time reflects how I really want to spend it. I'll work hard
and do all that I can do in the time available, but I'm determined not
to become one of those people who always complains about being too
busy. After all, it is nice to have work, and I can always say no to
offers if it is going to put too much pressure on me. Now back to that
book I was supposed to write.
Sunday
30th May
Yesterday was cricket. It was the second run of a biannual match
involving extended family and friends of our cousins, the Guillebauds,
held at a prep school where one of my cousins and her husband works.
The standard varies from OK to very good. I enjoy playing cricket a
great deal, but each time I play I am reminded why I don't play every
week. We batted first, and I was in at number 9. Sadly, I missed the
non-serious joke bowlers and by the time I was in the decent chaps
were back. I just about blocked the first ball but missed the next one
and was bowled. My brother Arthur had previously knocked a marvellous
70-odd, with lots of sixes, so I was a bit embarrassed. We were all
out for some 240. When we came to bowl, I was first change, bowling
the fifth over. I was fuelled with a wonderful pint of Rebellion from
the Marlow brewery. Fortunately, things went right, and after a plum
LBW (not given) and a dropped catch, I tempted the batsman with one in
the corridoor of uncertainty and he snicked it to slip. Then, in my
second over I got another, with a thick edge. Bingo. It made up for
the duck. With the fielding, I had an interesting time. A friend of
William (brother in law) called Neil was bowling some offspin. He got
whacked. One of them came sailing towards me and I bottled it. I moved
back instead of going forwards and then it dropped in front of me
before bouncing past for four. The cruelty of cricket is that if you
make a howling error, you often have to wait a long time mulling it
over before you have a chance to make amends. Not this time though: a
few balls later the batsman hammered one in the air - a trickier
chance - but I held my ground and snatched it out of the air with joy.
For me, playing cricket is a bit like a round of golf or a trade
tasting - you only need to go away with a few good memories and it's
relatively easy to forget the rest of it. Which is usually a good
thing. For now, some more pictures from the Portugal trip.
Jorge Borges and Sandra Tavares in the Pintas vineyard |
Quinta de la Rosa in the Cima Corgo of the Douro |
The Cima Corgo of the Douro |
Christiano Van Zeller (Do Vale D. Maria)
and Francisco Fereirra (Vallado) |
Alvaro Castro pouring a cask sample for Dirk Niepoort |
Saturday
29th May
 Apologies
for the lack of updates the last few days, but I’ve been busy. Busy
doing what good wine journalists need to do from time to time – that
is, actually go and gawp at vineyards. I’ve been in Portugal, one of
my favourite wine countries, exploring the Dão (left) and Douro
(below). This was an ICEP-organized press trip, but rather than a
busload of a dozen hacks, it was just me, driven around by the
endlessly patient João Costa. It was a brilliantly productive (and
rather tiring) trip, and over the next few weeks I’ll be writing it
up in depth. On Tuesday I visited Quinta Dos Roques, Dão Sul at
Quinta de Cabriz and then Alvaro Castro at Quinta da Pellada. We were
joined there later by Dirk Niepoort (who is making Dado, a Dão/Douro
wine with Alvaro) and Luis Lopez (editor of Portugal’s main wine
magazine) for dinner. On Wednesday we visited Sogrape’s Carvalhais
and then Passarela for lunch, then Santarem and finally a tasting of
seven other producers who s howed
their wines for me at the Solar de Dão. We then had dinner at Cabriz
where they’d arranged a big screen to watch Porto win the
Champions’ league final. On Thursday we drove to the Douro, and
kicked off with a visit to Quinta de la Rosa. We lunched at Bom Retiro
(Ramos Pintos) and then went to see Pintas with Sandra and Jorge.
After this it was the Douro boys – a tasting with Vallado, Crasto,
Vale Meão and Vale Dona Maria, where we also had dinner. Yesterday we
squeezed in an early tasting at Ramos Pinto and then went to the Baixo
Corgo to taste and lunch with Domingos Alves de Soara. All in all a
very useful trip, so stay tuned for the full write up.
Monday
24th May
 Finally,
I got to drink my brother-in-law's solitary bottle of Pingus - the
1997 vintage. It's a cult wine that sells for silly money, and it was
very generous of him to bring it round to dinner on Friday night. We
had some good wines - a Grand Cru red Burgundy (Chambertin Clos de
Beze 1993 from Bruno Clair), a Pouilly Fuisse, a single-vineyard Rioja
(Valpiedra 1996), a German Riesling (JJ Prum 1994 Spatlese from a
vineyard I've forgotten) and a Madeira (Cossart Gordon Bual 1990
Colheita), but it was the Pingus and the unctious 1997 Coutet Barsac
that stood out. In fact, the Coutet was majestic, and we easily
polished off the 75 cl bottle. I always think that I don't drink
enough Sauternes or Barsac, and I enjoy it a great deal whenever I do.
We followed up Friday's excess with a lovely multicourse meal cooked
by a colleague who is an expert at classic French cooking on Saturday
night. The wines served included a Craggy Range Old Renwick Vineyard
2003 Sauvignon Blanc (very refined, classy and with some minerally
interest) and the 1999 Gaillard St Joseph (combined pure dark fruits
with a lovely taut spicy, slightly animally core). Today
I'm off to Portugal, returning Friday, visiting the leading properties
in the Dão and the Douro. So there's lots more interesting Portuguese
content to come on these pages in the near future. Other trips planned
include Barossa/McLaren Vale/Adelaide Hills in September and then
Austria and northeast Italy in October.
Thursday 20th May
The London wine trade fair had lots of highlights for me, not
least good exposure to some more Austrian wines, some lovely Madeiras
and a chance to catch up on some Portuguese wines. Still, there's a
large chunk of the fair that's of no use to anyone interested in wine:
the rather depressing commercial side of wine - most evident with the
big drinks companies and their ostentatious double decker stands,
stacked with their desperately dull, industrialized wine brands. Last
night was the Dirk Niepoort dinner at the Capital (replete with two
Michelin stars), which was a sensationally good evening of food and
wine. I felt I took another step forward in understanding where Dirk
is trying to go with his wines. In particular the trio of 2001 reds
impressed (Batuta, Redoma and Vertente), although I was very taken by
the lush, elegant 2002 Charme. This will be the first Charme that
people will be able to buy. The 2000 was such a tiny production it was
never sold. After showing the 2001 last year as a cask sample, Dirk
decided not to bottle it. The 2002 will probably retail at around £30
and I'd recommend that you try it if you get a chance. I stayed longer than  I'd planned, enjoying 77 vintage and a 30 year old tawny,
and as a result had a rather awkward journey home - in the end I had
to take the last tube to Heathrow and then get on a night bus. It was worth it, though. I'm
off to Portugal on Monday, which I'm very much looking forward to. A
phone interview yesterday resulted in me being quoted in the Evening
Standard today (see right) - it was a story about Unwins
arranging their range by style rather than country on the shelves.
I've always applauded attempts to help people choose from massed
selections of wine, but I'm not sure that style is the way simply
because these taste categories tend not to be robust enough or easy
enough to understand. Is price any better? No, but it is probably more
useful for people. The problem in Unwins runs deeper, in my opinion: the
range is dull.
Tuesday 18th May 2004
So, last night was the double-dose of award ceremonies.
I’d been shortlisted for both the Glenfiddich and the Lanson – a
nice position to be in, but both events were rather bizarrely on the
same evening. I started with the Glenfiddich where my award, wine
writer of the year, was first up. Tim Atkin won it, and because he was
also shortlisted for a Lanson we both shared a cab to the new globe
for the Lanson awards, along with Fiona Smith the PR guru for Mitchell
Beazley. We got to there just in time to hear that Tim had won that as
well. My category had been announced earlier, and I hadn’t go that
either. After about five minutes and two glasses of Champagne, my
disappointment had worn off and I actually enjoyed the evening a great
deal. Nick Alabaster had been standing in for me, and we had a nice
time meeting the great and worthy of the wine writing world, with
several more glasses of cold Champagne. Much nicer than the whisky
cocktails we were given at the Glenfiddich.
It’s a busy week for wine people. The London
International Wine and Spirit Fair at Excel is the centrepiece of the
wine trade’s calendar, and this afternoon and tomorrow morning I’m
going to be busy tasting and chatting. The scale is daunting. The big
commercial stands packed with branded nonsense wines are of no
interest to wine nuts, and, of course, many of the best producers
don’t feel the need to exhibit when they sell out all their wines
without much trouble. Still, there’s plenty to keep me busy, and
more interesting people than I could ever have time to meet. I spent
quite a bit of time in Austria and the rest in Portugal. Tomorrow I
will branch out a bit, I promise.
Monday 17th May 2004
Saturday’s Decanter French Wine Encounter was up to the usual
standard of these Decanter tasting days. They’re very civilised
events, held in the wonderful setting of the Landmark Hotel. The
abundance of clean Riedel Chianti glasses certainly helps to make
serious tasting a little easier. The only problem is that it can get a
bit crowded around some of the tables, and a proportion of the punters
haven’t learned the etiquette of tasting in these circumstances. If
it’s at all crowded, you should take your pour, then step away from
the table so others can get in. Simple and polite. I had a nice time
chatting to some of the producers. René Rostaing prefers to speak
French, but he does it clearly and precisely enough that I can
understand him. I had a lengthy chat with Christian Seely who is in
charge of all the AXA properties – it’s the first time I’ve
spoken to him and I found him very open, friendly and convincing. He
was pouring Suiduiraut 1997, 1999 and 2001, and the excellence of
these wines led me to go on a Sauternes/Barsac hunt. The Baly brothers
of Coutet were on fine form, and I did a mini-vertical of Climens.
Staying on the sweet theme, Pierre Bise and Baumard showed some
impressive Quarts de Chaume. I also had a productive chat with
negociant-eleveur Xavier Copel of Primo Palatum. It was nice to taste
with my brother in law Monsieur Beavington, who I think I shall hire
as my press officer. Other internet wine guys spotted at the event
were Chris Kissack and Neal Martin (who greeted me with ‘Hi
Linden’ – you need some new glasses Neal).
Friday 14th May
Some interesting recent drinking. I picked up a few bottles in
Sainsbury, the other day: while most of the range is as you’d expect
(commercial stuff), Sainsbury have been buying in a few selected
smaller parcels of wines. Among these was Inama’s
Soave Classico 2001, which is such a wonderful, expressive wine
– and a snip at £6.99. It’s a beautifully perfumed white with
some delicate herbal tones, and if I had any sense I’d have picked
up more than just two. But then there are only so many drinking
opportunities, and I’m a sucker for novelty. I find it hard to get
through a case of anything, unless it’s something whose drinking
window allows me to stagger consumption over a few years. Or maybe I
should just drink more? Over a couple of days I enjoyed the 2001 Côtes
du Rhône Reserve from Château des Tours. The 2000 was a
favourite of mine (half way through a six pack) but the 2001 Vaqueyras
I think may be a dud purchase – both bottles I’ve had so far have
been dull and fizzy. But the Côtes du Rhône 2001 is delicious.
It’s an odd sort of wine, with very pure, sweet fruit and the
softest tannins imaginable. Overnight it begins to express some really
fascinating peppery, spicy Grenache character to supplement the sweet
fruit. Very enjoyable if a bit quirky. Sticking with the Rhône, my
first time with the Ogier La Rosine 2001 left me a bit
undecided. It’s distinctly savoury (not a bad thing) with the
dominant feature being the roast coffee and tar notes on the nose.
There’s not really the richness of fruit there to support everything
else, but it could be because I’m approaching it too young, so
I’ll keep my second bottle a while yet. Another wine that I enjoyed
but probably expected a little more from was the Heidler Spiegel Grüner
Veltliner 2002. It’s a nice, pepper Grüner Veltliner but could
do with just a little more concentration of flavour to justify the
price tag (£7.50). More immediate in its impact is the 1996
Malmsey Single Harvest Madeira from Blandys, which I’ve been
sipping for the last few nights. It’s the real deal, uncaramelized
and not subjected to artificial heating. The move to making Single
Harvest Madeiras (known traditionally
as Colheitas) is a good one, I feel.
The frogs have now gone. After a few fatalities, we thought
it best to let them out in the wildlife area of the boys' school.
They'd begun hopping, although they still had remnants of their tails.
Strange things, amphibians.
Permit
me a moan. If you are in the market for a laptop, don't buy a Dell. I
loved my IBM Thinkpad, a solid machine in every way. This Dell I've
been putting up with for the last 18 months or so is pain. It's
plasticky, hard to live with and the nipple mouse device has finally
given up after months of grumbling. I'm left with the touchpad, which
I don't like. I'd trade a good deal of performance to have something
that is nicer to live with. Moan over.
Monday 10th May
My six-year-old’s favourite song at the moment is Air hostess
by Busted. It’s a catchy song that boasts the immortal lines ‘Air
hostess, I like the way you dress’, ‘I messed my pants, when we
passed over France’, and ‘The temperature is rising, my coke has
got no ice in’. It must be odd for the three Busted boys, being
thrust into the celebrity world and suddenly having more money than
they could ever have thought of. The
whole celebrity phenomenon does my head in a bit, actually. Of course,
society has always had its celebrities, but in the last couple of
decades things have gone crazy. Our culture has reorganized itself
around celebrities in an absurd fashion. We pluck people out of
obscurity – sometimes on the basis of talent in a particular field,
but other times for no particular reason – we make them famous, and
then we are obsessed by every aspect of their lives until we grow
bored, or are distracted, at which point we drop them. We imbue our
celebrities with a special power or magic; we feel that if we can get
close to them, if in some way a celebrity’s life can touch ours,
then this will bring meaning and significance to our lives. We have
fantasy connections with our own favourite celebrities – something
captured so well by the film Notting Hill, which as well as
being an entertaining romantic comedy, has a clever, deeper side
exploring celebrity status and the interaction between the famous and
the ordinary.
One of the most bizarre (to me)
manifestations of this obsession is the growing band of celebrity
magazine, in the Hello mode. Headline recently spotted on the
cover of one: ‘Poor Posh, so sad, so thin’. It’s hilarious that
readers don’t see the absurdity of this fixation with fame. Another
tabloid report revealed that Posh shops in Matalan (a discount store)
and bought tiles for her bathroom from Topps Tiles. This sort of stuff
is on one level very funny, and on another very disturbing. The truth
is that celebrities are no different to the rest of us: they are just
as good, just as bad, just as kind, just as mean – and if we were to
spend a day with our favourite celeb, our lives would be no different.
In fact, they might be impoverished – our illusions would be broken.
What about the celebrities themselves? No doubt there’s a cost to
being famous; a very real loss of freedom that comes with being
instantly recognizable. Also, imagine if you were to achieve all your
life goals and beyond by your mid-20s, and yet still feel the same
person when you get out of bed in the morning? Where do you go from
there?
Celebrity status is a bankable
commodity, and it’s not surprising that it’s been used to sell
wine. There are a host of wines on the market with celebrity names on
the label, and the most successful has probably been Sir Cliff’s
Vida Nova from his Algarve estate. This is likely because he has put
something of himself into the wine: he bought the vineyard and you get
the impression that he’s driven the project. Other similar project
seem to have been dreamt up by marketers, with the celeb themselves
having little input into the project beyond a token presence at a
blending session.
Over this last weekend I’ve had
a cold. The nadir was when on Friday night I lost my sense of smell
almost entirely. It was weird and quite scary to swill a glass of wine
and smell absolutely nothing, and then take a sip and experience very
little other than the sweetness, acidity and bitterness. It reinforces
how fundamental olfaction is to wine tasting – even the ‘taste’
bit. Fortunately this anosmia was just temporary.
Previous entries
Back to top |
