Online retailer and wineanorak sponsor Bringmywine.com yesterday suspended trading indefinitely. The website is no more. It's a shame. A fortnight ago I tried many wines from the 1000-strong range at their press tasting, and I was impressed. Part of the CERT group (who among other things own Octavian wine storage), buyer Paul Liversedge and wine director Kim Tidy had put together an impressive range, and their website was among the most functional and cleverly thought out of all e-tailers. Of course, Bringmywine joins a pretty long list of e-commerce-only casualties, including Aussie big boys wineplanet and recently sold-off madaboutwine. Free-spending virginwine are still there, though, as are relative newcomers everywine.

Tuesday September 11th
I’ve been feeling a bit fragile this morning after a wonderful wine nut dinner last night. Location: Launceston Place (beautiful surroundings, nice food, Richard Branson and his acolytes on the table next to us). In attendance: Robert Helms, David Filkin, Emmanuel Petit (no, not the footballer), Robert Asher, journalist-turned-MP Sîon Simon and myself. It was a fun evening and the wines were pretty good. We began with a triplet from Alsace: the surprisingly good Hugel Tradition Riesling 1997 prepared the ground for a pair of Frédéric Emile Rieslings from Trimbach. The 1989 (an orphan rescued from a Wine Rack branch) was aromatic, evolved, ripe and multifacted; the 1995 was still quite youthful and austere, although very fine. Then on to the reds, kicking off with a tasty, rather sturdy Savigny-Beaune 1er Cru Les Lavières 1990 from Bouchard. Next, a trio of clarets. The 1990 Lafon Rochet was ripe and sweetly fruited, beginning to hollow just a touch; the 1989 Gressier Grand Poujeaux was much more sturdy, with firm, spicy tannins running the show. Both nice wines, but overshadowed by the superb 1982 Château Palmer that followed. This was still deep coloured and dense, a multilayered wine that’s only getting into its stride. And this is supposed to be a less-good Palmer! On to the Rhône. First stop is the 1995 Cornas Reynard from Allemand: a powerful, inky-dark beast with a pronounced pepperiness overlying the meaty, savoury fruit. Too young, but tasty. Rostaing’s ripe, dark, complex 1990 Côte Rôtie La Landonne followed, along with a mystery wine (the label was missing) that turned out to be the 1983 Chave Hermitage. This was savoury, evolved and showing some mushroomy, earthy complexity, and drank very well. Two stickies to complete the indulgence: a 1983 Climens was rich textured, complex, balanced and gorgeous; the 1997 Les Eyguets from Cuilleron was fragrant, aromatic and deliciously over the top. On the surprisingly hassle-free journey home, I felt a bit spoiled.

Sunday September 9th
A recent news feature left me shaking my head in disbelief. Franconian winemakers have been protesting about new EU regulations to allow anyone to use the distinctive ‘bocksbeutel’ bottles (picture here) to bottle their wine in. This raises a question: why on earth would anyone in their right mind want to put their wines in a bocksbeutel, except of course the Franconian producers who already use it? This bottle shape was apparently originally inspired by a goats scrotum, and according to the news article this bottle is a ‘recognized symbol of quality’. Ponder for a moment that the only example of a wine bottled in a bocksbeutel that most UK consumers will have seen is Sogrape’s Mateus Rosé, and you’ll see why I feel that this is a battle not worth fighting.

Wednesday September 5th
Berry Bros' new wine knowledge game is a brilliant way to waste 20 minutes or so. It’s not a complete doddle: you'll need to be a bit of an anorak to do well on it (I won’t tell you what score I got, although I’d be impressed by anyone scoring a great deal higher…). Beware: it took me a while to work out how to place the bottles in the bins. The game is against the clock, and I challenge you to play it without looking up any answers. If you’ve completed this and are looking for more distraction, why not try the Berry Bros quiz?

Sunday September 2nd
Last night was footy night: England v Germany. What a sensational game. Sitting in front of the telly, eating mixed tapas and cheering Sven Goran's men along, we finished off some open bottles: five England goals, five wines. First, and quite appropriately, was a German wine -- a Riesling Auslese 1994 from the famous Ürziger Würzgarten vineyard by Dr Hermann. Worryingly, Germany scored after just six minutes, only for England to equalize quickly. 1-1. This is another of the great German bargains from Majestic, retailing at a paltry £4.99, and it's a lovely drop. Buy by the case. Next up was the dregs of John Alban's 1997 Lorraine Syrah from California's Edna Valley. Kim Tidy of Bringmywine.com very kindly gave me this along with Alban's Reva Syrah (my favourite) and Viognier at last week's press tasting. They are all superb wines, among the finest that I've tried from the USA. 2-1 England, a classic strike from Stephen Gerrard. Just after half time, England went ahead 3-1, and we sipped some of the delicious and inexpensive Petit Chenin 2001 from Ken Forrester (Stellenbosch), a wine recommended by wineanorak reader Dirk Kind. With the fourth goal we broached a corked Rioja Crianza from the ubiquitous Campo Viejo. Ho hum. Remarkably, England scored a fifth -- it was a rout -- and we drank up the rest of the 1999 Beaujolais from Château Cambon. Made by Marcel Lapierre, it's one of those unfiltered, biodynamic, virtually sulfur-free wines. There's a strong warning on the back label to store at less than 14 °C, and this unstable wine has pretty much turned, three days after opening, although it's still drinkable in a rustic, volatile sort of way. A great evening.    

Wednesday August 29th
For the last few days I've been having a splendid break in the Peak District, sharing a cottage with some good friends of ours. The weather has been sensational (you know how we Brits love to talk about weather). As these chums appreciate good wine but are not wine-geek types, I've been drinking a fair bit of inexpensive wine. Now the chief sin of cheap wine is blandness: it's rare to find real character in sub-£5 wines; it's equally rare to find something disgusting. But this is a step forwards from not so long ago when buying cheapies often used to expose you to the real risk of turning up an absolute stinker. I remember the house wine at University (1986-1993, University of London, Royal Holloway College): it was a French Vin de Pays called 'Fleur du Lys', and both the red and white were almost undrinkable. You really had to grit your teeth to drink this stuff. I'll wager that the house wine in 2001 is some clean, fruity, forgettable Aussie number named 'Gum Tree Ridge' or 'Kangaroo Creek': much more palatable but instantly forgettable. Let's hope in another decade that cheap wines won't just be drinkable, but they'll have some individuality and character, too. Cheapies we've had this week include a couple of Hungarian whites (Budai Chardonnay 2000 and Pinot Gris 2000: crisp, acidic, fresh and quite classy), an Italian Muscat (Trulli 2000, Puglia: clean, grapey, spicy, short finish) and a South African pair (the bland Kumala Chardonnay and the slightly stinky but tasty Sainsbury own-label Pinotage). We've also drunk a ridiculously overoaked New Zealand Cabernet Merlot (Esk Valley 1999, Hawkes Bay), a pleasant, balanced Zinfandel (Kenwood Sonoma County 1996) and a herby, medium bodied new world Pinot Noir (Firesteed 1996, Oregon). Nothing great; not wines to ponder, but good drinking.

Thursday August 9th
I was delighted to find out that Andrew Jefford said some nice things about wineanorak in his recent piece in the Evening Standard. A commendation from a wine writer of Andrew's repute is a real encouragement, and I'm extremely grateful for the plug. The article in question was a glowing write up of South Kensington wine shop La Vigneronne, who have featured heavily on these pages before, and it was there that yesterday evening I attended a tasting of Bourgeuil from a single property, Domaine des Chesnaies. It's not a well known property, but the superb, remarkably youthful 1989 and 1976, and the only-marginally-less-good 1969 were all impressive efforts, bristling with chalky, leafy minerality. Full write up to follow. I find myself increasingly drawn to lesser-known appellations and oddities for my vinous kicks. Is this a bad thing? On an entirely separate subject, Tuesday night was dinner with good friends Paul and Judith. Paul is, I suspect, like many consumers: he enjoys good wine, but it's not a hobby of his. He served two Wolf Blass reds that reminded me why Aussie wines have taken the UK market by storm. They were ripe, sweetly fruited, oaky, concentrated and actually fairly delicious. Without my 'serious wine geek' hat on I really enjoyed them, although I'd have probably marked them down in a tasting. I guess they were just right for the occasion.

Saturday August 4th
Some personal (and non-wine related) news. Yesterday was a significant day in the Goode family, as we attended a court hearing during which our two boys were legally adopted. They've been with us for more than a year, but legal processes often take a while -- anyway, we are now officially a family.  

Friday August 3rd
I have a theory. Most wine geeks, left unchecked, would buy far more wine than they actually need for their own consumption. We continually have to exercise self control in our purchasing to avoid filling our cellars up with more than we could ever get through. I know of fellow magpie-like wine nuts who, lacking the normal constraints of cellar space and limited budget, have amassed collections of several thousand bottles. So I feel I've done quite well restricting my personal stash to just 200 bottles, although I still get the occasional pangs of guilt about how much I spend on fermented grape juice. Last night popped into one of my favourite haunts, La Vigneronne in South Kensington, and try as I might I couldn't avoid walking out without buying another six bottles (it would have been more, but this is about as many as I can carry home). I did have an excuse though -- there's currently a sale on, with some interesting bottles at vastly reduced prices. The three wines I bought (two bottles of each) were the Domaine des Espiers Côtes du Rhône 1998 (rationale: earthy, savoury red makes great everyday drinking at under a fiver), Domaine La Rocalière Lirac Cuvée Presitge 1998 (rationale: full flavoured, complex varietal Mourvèdre with real character) and the Château Cambon Beaujolais 1999 (rationale: unfiltered, unchaptalised Beaujolais from Marcel Lapierre). I had the first bottle of the Cambon last night, and it was quite brilliant, and unlike any other Beaujolais I've ever tasted. Instead of Duboeuf-style bubblegum-laced primary fruit, there was a real depth of earthy flavour to this slightly cloudy wine. On the back there's a stern warning to store this below 14 °C: any higher, and I suspect it would be a microbiological time-bomb. Cracking value at less than a fiver. A 'real' wine that would even satisfy Patrick Matthews' stringent criteria.

Thursday August 2nd
Yesterday evening I raided the local Majestic store (Cross Deep, Twickenham) to see what they had been allocated from the Sensational Sonoma Parcel that Majestic have recently got their hands on. They had a reasonable selection: I bought the 1996 Carneros Chardonnay and Pinot Noir from Frexeinet-owned fizz specialists Gloria Ferrer, a Zinfandel from Kenwood, a Merlot from Rodney Strong and another Chardonnay from a producer I've never heard of. Normally I wouldn't go for these sorts of wines, but at about half normal retail price they'll be interesting 'educational' bottles. I cracked the Gloria Ferrer 1996 Carneros Chardonnay open last night: while still drinkable, it's beginning to oxidise and is definitely on its way out. Let's hope the others are better. You see, I have a bit of a problem with California wines. It's a schizophrenic sort of market. At the bottom end are the mass-market brands. Brands don't have to be bad, but the Californian ones generally are. In my experience the likes of Gallo, Glen Ellen, Mondavi's Woodbridge and the abysmal Blossom Hill offer poor value for money, and are beaten hands down by their counterparts from Australia. The only US brand I've ever had any warm feelings for is Brown Forman-owned Fetzer. And at the top end of the Californian market, while there are some impressive wines, the prices have become absurd. Even relatively middle-of-the road Napa and Sonoma Cabernets regularly sell for £30- £40 a bottle, and you won't really get anything interesting from California until you hit the mid-teens. I was recently impressed (in a Californian sort of way) by a couple of Peter Michael Chardonnays, but they cost £30-£40, the same price as top-notch premier cru white Burgundy. And why pay £25+ for the Au Bon Climat vineyard-designated Pinot Noirs (admittedly very tasty), when you can pick up some super red Burgs for the same money? I realise that the California wines aren't trying to imitate the old world classics, but for the most part they lack the track record, complexity and pedigree of wines they are competing with in terms of price.

Tuesday July 31st
For the benefit of non-Brits reading these pages, let me explain that one of the favourite pastimes in the UK is discussing the weather. When you are next faced with the task of making small talk with a Brit, just mention the weather and it should start a conversation that will keep going for at least 20 minutes. Possibly longer. And let me tell you, the last several days have been extremely warm and muggy in London. Although there’s been plenty of sunshine (a good thing; we don’t see it that often), there’s also been very high humidity (a bad thing). Because our climate is usually damp and cool, air conditioning is rare, so one thing wine geeks have to watch for is the air temperatures reached in some wine shops. During hot spells like this, they can rapidly reach wine-killing levels. So now’s a good time to stroll into your regular retail haunts, to see how warm they get. I wandered into a local branch of Oddbins today, and it was sweltering. I mentioned to the staff that these sorts of temperatures might be bad for the wine that was sitting there quietly baking on the shelves. The response? ‘We have a high turnover’ (not that high, considering some of the less popular wines can be sitting there for six months or more), ‘The wines will mature quicker’, and ‘It helps the wines breathe’. Ah, we have a comedian in the house. Hot shops that cook their wines are a big problem in the UK. If a wine is spending any time standing on the shelf in the summer in a non-air-conditioned shop, then it’s at risk. Look for the presence of electric fans by the till: if it’s too hot for humans, then it’s probably too hot for wines.

Saturday July 28th
You could grow old waiting for a Richmond train at Earls Court tube station. One of the frustrations of living out in the suburbs is that after a night out in London, you're forced to rely on the rather flaky  public transport system to get you home. Semi-inebriated, last night I waited approximately 37 minutes for a Richmond train, which in the end arrived just before midnight. That's a personal record. That aside, Friday night was a great success. Eight wine nuts gathered for a farewell bash to see off celebrated internet wine personality Yixin Ong, who is shortly leaving for California. In his time at Oxford, among various exceptional achievements Yixin recently managed to secure a UK agent for cult Rhône winemaker Eric Texier. On a muggy, sweaty evening at El Gauchos, we managed to get through 14 wines—I'll comment briefly on some of the highlights here. First off, the Grand Cru Mailly Champagne from Raymond Boulard. The second bottle of this I've had recently, it's fizz to put hairs on your chest, with striking, rich, yeasty character and a tiny touch of rusticity. I love it. Off next to Germany: the 1994 Donnhoff Oberhauser Leistenberg Riesling Kabinett is tasty, showing some age, while the 2000 Kees-Kieren Erdener Treppchen Riesling Kabinett has a wonderful ripe nose of tropical fruit and melon, a full palate and the weight of an Auslese. This is delicious stuff, and I stick around a while. No more whites, because El Gaucho is a vegetarians worst nightmare. The menu revolves around enormous pieces of Argentinean cow. I order a sirloin steak and get the largest piece of meat I've ever seen. Yixin orders a fillet steak with two fried eggs on top. On to the reds. Chilled down, the 1982 Samur Champigny from R-N Legrand is not an assertive wine, but it's full of leafy, pencil lead charm. Thanks to Tim York for sending this one for us to enjoy, even though he wasn't attending. Two contrasting efforts from the South of France followed. Vaquer's L'Exception 1998 is a Catalan beast; a wonderfully rich wine with a licqouricey, herby edge to the lush red berry fruit. Big. The Tempier Bandol La Tourtine 1997 is very different, with a lovely herby, leathery, animal-like nose and just a hint of volatility. Thoughtful. Cornas is supposed to be a hard, angular expression of Syrah, but Clape's 1996 is deep and rich, fuller than I expected. From the same grape, the 1997 Paloma Syrah (Spring Mountain, Napa Valley) is a concentrated, new world-style drop, with vanilla and minty notes joining the sweet fruit. Too much. Three sweeties to finish, but by this stage my palate is a little tired. A Scheurebe Beerenauslese from von Buhl is tasty but not top drawer; a Coteaux du Layon St Aubin 1997 from Cady is reliable and a tiny bit syrup; and finally the Banyuls Rimage 1995 from Clos de Paulliles is tasty, soft and a bit tawnyish. I have the left-overs from this in the fridge—think I'll try a glass now. And Yixin has promised he'll be back in December. 

Tuesday July 24th
Blind tasting is nasty business. It’s mean. It makes you look daft. But it’s good to be humbled once in a while. When I can manage it I try to attend anorak contributor Greg Sherwood’s blind tasting club, that meets on alternate Monday nights in Holland Park. The wines are usually pretty interesting, and the atmosphere relaxed and informal, but it still doesn’t stop me making a pillock of myself by missing their identities by a mile. Last night we started off with a Ch. Monterminod 1999 Roussette de Savoie. Crisp, slightly nutty and with no trace of oak, I was convinced it was a Chablis. Next up was a very disappointing Pouilly Fumé ‘Les Griottes’ from Jolivet: at least I got the grape right here (Sauvignon Blanc), even though I thought it was from the New World. The third wine I nailed correctly as a Riesling Kabinett from the Mosel (1998 Ürziger Würzgarten from Alfred Merkelbach) , but I incorrectly guessed the rather oaky Mersault 1999 from Francois Mikulsky to be a Chassagne Montrachet. Well I guess that’s not too bad, but there’s no excuse for the next one. Where did I place the 1996 Cantermerle? Not in the Haut-Medoc, where it’s one of the overperforming 5th growths, but in Chile. Chile? And I wasn’t the only one. Granted, this wasn’t showing very well at all, but with its forward blackcurrant fruit and dusty, spicy tannins, I thought it was an ambitious South American. Ironically, I correctly spotted the lush, ripe Escudo Rojo 1999 from Baron Phillipe de Rothschild as Chilean Cabernet blend. Next wine, a lovely 1995 Brunello from Sesti, I had down as an Italian Cabernet-based wine, and after this I really blew it by placing the Veenwouden Vivat Bacchus 1998 in Western Australia instead of Paarl. I won’t tell you where I placed the 1999 Noble One from De Bortoli…. It’s good to be humbled from time to time.

Sunday July 22nd
The Twickenham vineyard is taking shape nicely: yesterday I had an hour spare to plant some new vines, and the existing vines (now in their second year) are going well. Some of them are even sporting the odd bunch of grapes. Today was spent visiting my brother down in Winchester. A pleasant lunchtime Picpoul de Pinet had an odd, slightly musty note on the palate, even though the nose was fairly clean. Hmm. I didn't think this was a case of normal cork taint. Instead, I guessed (correctly) it to be the characteristic fault imparted by the use of agglomerate corks (the ones made out of lots of little bits of cork stuck together). Sabaté's 'Altec' is the most frequently encountered version of this stopper, and I reckon I can spot them blind with a very high success rate (I don't know whether other manufacturers produce them). Recent experiences with these agglomerates include in several of Alain Brumont's less expensive wines (taint rate 100%), and in a handful of bottles of JB Adam's Tokay Pinot Gris (taint rate 100%). The wines would have been pretty good but were tainted by the cork. Fancy using a stopper that slightly taints the wine 100% of the time. It makes you suspect that the people who use either have really shitty palates, or else they cynically calculate that none of the people drinking their wines will notice (or both, of course). And it's only the French that really use these: whereas in the UK consumers realise that plastic stoppers in less expensive wines are a good thing, the French consumers strongly resist this idea. As a result, a good proportion of the cheap wines on the French market have these agglomerate stoppers that impart mild taint to almost all the wines they seal. How odd. Rant over. For more on this subject, visit Robert Joseph's corkwatch site: despite the alarming web design, the idea behind the site is a good one, and it's developing into a useful resource.