Helen’s blog

(A version of a piece I wrote recently for the Association of Wine Educators Newsletter)

The entry on ‘fashion’ in the most recent (2006) edition of Jancis Robinson’s Oxford Companion to Wine cites ‘lighter-bodied, high acid reds such as those of the Loire and Beaujolais’ as ‘obvious examples’ of wine types that ‘can be said to be generally out of fashion.’  It was therefore intriguing to see the high profile claimed by both of these at this year’s London Wine Fair in May, where the good and the great in the world of wine writing and wine education were lined up in their support. Is the tide really beginning to change?

I was invited by Westbury Communications to present a trade seminar on behalf of Inter-Beaujolais (the association of Beaujolais wine growers) in Newcastle back in late March. I was glad to accept, not just because I’ll gladly snatch the hand of anyone who offers me work in these straightened times, but because I’m fond of Beaujolais, I’ve visited the region fairly regularly over the last twenty five years, and I was also about to take a group there for a brief look at the region in late May as part of a wine holiday. The seminar gave me a chance to take stock.

Interest in the event was, to be frank, a little lukewarm; but we managed to cajole a couple of dozen shop managers and restaurateurs into coming to taste eighteen wines. The wines, which were of a generally high standard, were received with some enthusiasm. But attitude to the category and sales remains mixed. One leading local independent merchant told me later that there is little demand for Beaujolais from his customers who still associate it with insipid Nouveau. Despite the fact that he stocks some very good wines from the Crus, his own opinion is that the region has lost direction, the wines are over-priced and the general quality ‘is not very clever’. In contrast, the manager of a local branch of Majestic finds that demand for Beaujolais is ‘fairly buoyant’. He observes that the wines ‘fit quite well what people are looking for’: lower alcohol, complexity and attractive, approachable fruit.

The attitude of folk who come to the tastings and courses that I organise is also mixed, but those who came to a recent tasting and talk about the ten Crus liked what they found and a couple of experimental food and wine evenings revealed Beaujolais in a new light for me too.

Since visiting Hong Kong last year and especially after a long conversation there with Simon Tam, I’ve been fascinated in the matching of wines to wide range of Asian cuisines. I discovered an exceptionally fine local Chinese restaurateur right here in North Shields (Keith Pun of the Golden Swallow Restaurant) who was just as keen to experiment with food and wine combinations to build upon the results of the Hong Kong International Wine and Spirit Competition’s attempt to find the ideal wines to partner a range of classic Chinese dishes. My hunch that Cru Beaujolais would stand up to a spicy Sichuan beef dish proved correct: Morgon, Côte du Py, Vieilles Vignes, 2008, Christophe Cordier (available from Majestic) not only maintained its fruit, but also helped to lift the spice of the dish. A later experiment, this time with East African Asian cuisine, also showed the potential of young, fruity Beaujolais as a partner for a range of complex, spicy flavours. The successful wine this time was the recently released Chénas 2009, Cave du Château de Chénas (also from Majestic).

And so to Beaujolais itself, with a group of sixteen wine lovers in the last week of May. As the trip was split between the Beaujolais and the Mâconnais, our investigation of both regions could only be brief, but it was enough to shed some light on the issues facing the region’s wine producers and also a welcome opportunity to taste a number of wines from the much praised 2009 vintage.

Three conversation with winegrowers stood out, all of whom were concerned about the future of Beaujolais wine and had all made major changes to their viticultural practice or business model in recent years.

Franck Lathuilière tends about 13 hectares of vines mostly classified for Beaujolais Villages, including one substantial single parcel, close to the old family winery near Vaux en Beaujolais (I’m written more about him recently in The Journal). In recent years, he and his wife Annie have diversified their business by offering a gîte for holiday rental and have expanded their wine range to include sparkling wine, both a ‘méthode traditionelle’ and a pink, 8% abv pétillant, as well as rosé, white Beaujolais, grape juice and a range of preserves.  Over the last four or five years they have succeeded in selling their wine to individual clients, local restaurants, a single supermarket in the north of France and to two UK importers. They no longer need to sell wine in bulk to négociants. Franck’s winemaking practices are thoroughly traditional, including aging some wine in large old foudres. He’s in the process of conversion to an organic regime and has begun to experiment with some biodynamic treatments. Like many other growers he has also begun to restructure his vineyard from gobelet to a version of Cordon Royat on wires, to enable him to grass between the rows, a change which he also believes has helped produce earlier, more consistent ripening.

Diversification, change and increased independence are working for him, but he expressed alarm at the financial difficulties faced by many growers in the region, especially in the Bas Beaujolais where some have been forced to grub up vineyards and others, he said planting not only much more Chardonnay but are abandoning the Beaujolais appellation altogether and are trying their luck with Syrah and even Viognier.

This trend was verified by Vincent Lacondemine, who has 4 hectares of vines around Beaujeu, also in Beaujolais Villages. ‘Beaujolais really is in crisis,’ he told me, ‘Eighty percent of the growers here sell to the négotiants, and there’s no profit in that at all.’ His response has been to give up two hectares of land that had been held in métayage (the crop-sharing system that is still widespread in Beaujolais) and to aim for the highest possible quality on his on remaining plots, which he is also converting to organic and reconstructing on wires with grass between the rows. His aim is to make wines that express complexity and minerality and he quizzed me at length about how they may be received by UK consumers. He sells a lot of his wine to Northern Europe, but also to Nick Dobson in the UK, for whom he expresses great affection and respect. He too has diversified his range with a rosé (’I was a bit reticent about it at first and I didn’t get it right first time, but my clients asked for one’) and a white, subtly oaked Beaujolais Villages. My group greatly admired the elegant minerality of this, which from vines grown on a granitic soil was so very different from those of neighbouring Mâconnais.

Further north, Thierry Condemine has 35 hectares grouped around the fine eighteenth-century Château de Juliénas, bought by his great-grandfather in 1907. He welcomes the changes to the rules for the appellation of Juliénas in 2004 that also allow a restructuring of the vineyard and the reduction of the vine density from 10,000 to -6,000 plants per hectare. He has only replanted 1.5 hectares so far, but is delighted with the results. He believes that they not only allows a quicker, more effective intervention to be made if treatments are needed; but that the vines are healthier and ripen more evenly; as his colleagues have also found. Complete reconstructing however, will be he insists, a lifetime’s task. He would dearly love to sell his wines in the UK, but has not yet managed to find an importer and blames the poor exchange rate for his lack of success.

My group enjoyed the wines from all three producers and over the course of our week in the region were impressed by wines from several other domains. They praised their ability to partner food well and welcomed the characteristics of accessibility, lower alcohol and complexity that Vincent Lacondemine strives to achieve and which appeal to Majestic customers back home.

Above all, they were thrilled by the quality of the 2009 vintage, which was consistently fruity and forward, yet rich balanced and often beautifully textured.  A barrel sample of Lacondemine’s single vineyard ‘Le Chapital’ proved a prefect example: spicy and concentrated, with masses of ripe red and black fruit, a splendid balance of juicy acidity, silky tannins and elegant minerality.

They went to the region with mixed expectations, some of which were very close to those of the independent wine merchant I spoke to. They came away saddened and puzzled that some growers feel that they can no longer make a living from Gamay and that the reputation of Beaujolais has fallen so low; yet were certain that if the 2009s they had tasted were readily available at a fair price, they would fly off the shelves. Like me, they wonder if the efforts to change vineyard practice have come too late. Can the magnificent 2009 vintage help to restore the fortunes of the Beaujolais?

The sparkling wines of Bailly-Lapierre – Crémant de Bourgogne began life in the 1970s as an attempt to make something good from grapes that had previously been sold to the to the Germans to be transformed into Sekt. From 1972, the newly-formed co-operative cellars in Northern Burgundy – the villages to the south west of Chablis – sought advice from neighbouring Champagne, put it to good use, and have since turned out highly creditable fizz.The wines spend far less time on the lees than most Champagne, but make up for this with an often appealing freshness.

On a recent visit I tasted the current range, but was also treated to a sample of a Blanc de Noirs from the 1985 harvest, disgorged in 1987. What a surprise! I’ve previously taste a wine from here from the early 1990s, but this was even fresher – lovely and rich was the flavours of confit lemon and lime and soft acidity and an almost minty, herby finish. It is a powerful testament to over a generation of careful wine-making.

Of the current releases ‘La Réserve’, a blend of five permitted grapes (Pinot Noir, Chardonnay, Gamay, Sacy and Aligoté) and just nine months on lees is a simple, fruity bubbly with fairly soft acidity and some of the body of red fruit.

Rosé Brut is refreshingly strawberry with a host of other crunchy red fruit flavours. It’s not masively complex, but is very appealing. The same wine is in Waitrose under the Blason de Bourgogne label. £12.99 and well worth it.

The Pure Pinot Noir, longer sur lattes, is richer, with good crispness and even a little minerality.

Chardonnay 100% is very Chardonnay indeed: lighter, with the smell of white peach and a marked, fresh minerality. Marks and Spencer sell a version of this under their own label.

Noir et Blanc is delicious. Rich and complex, almost buttery, with lots of fruit and a fine tension between the fruit and acid.

Ravizotte, Extra Brut, based on Pinot Noir is surprisingly delicate, yet almost floral and open, with a clean mineral finish.

Egarde, from organically grown grapes, is complex, herbal and richly ripe, with a greater degree of elegance than in any other wine – and more length. It is my favourite.

Over the last few weeks I’ve tasted a number of old wines.  One or two were distinctly past it. For example, Bertani 1953 Valpolicella, kindly opened during the Association of Wine Educators’ visit to Italy was a peculiar experience, at first stinkily reductive, then leathery and complex, giving way quickly to mushrooms and rotting leaves –  a fast-fading ghost of a wine. Bertani Recioto della Valpolicella 1940 (one fizzy!) was quite rich and flavoury, even a little sweet still, but maderised. Bertani Amarone 1967 was much better, even rather  impressive, with intense, spicy complexity, caramelised and beginning to dry, but an interesting drink. The most remarkable old Bertani bottle was  a 1988 Soave, which resembled  a soft, spicy version of an old Hunter Valley Semillon, with strong, limey minerality.  Something of the same limey minerality characterised a 2001 Sauvignon Blanc at Vie di Romans in Friuli Isonzo, but their 1998 and even more remarkably, their 1993 Sauvignon preserved far more varietal character, as  did also a 1997 Pinot Grigio.

The previous week, in Macon, a 1975 Macon-Viré cellared by the Auberge de la Tour, most kindly opened by chef and owner Patrick was faded and oxidised, but nutty, soft and surprisingly complex. I rather like it, but the wine lovers in my Vine Visit party that week were unimpressed. They much preferred a 1996, from a magnum, which was more recognisably a Chardonnay, though also exhibiting strong mineral characteristics – citrus fruit, honey and petrol. I Liked it a lot. And Roger Saumaize generously dug out a 1990 Pouilly Fuissé, Clos sur la Roche, to crown a superb tasting of his wines at his domaine, Saumaize-Michelin. I loved its intense green fruit flavours, great freshness and complex minerality, but again, my group were far more taken with his young wines and their tighter fruit.

I relate all this because it illustrates for me the huge change in fashion over the decade or so that has led consumers to prize primary fruit about all else. They recognise quality and complexity for sure, but the faded pleasure of old wine are a mystery and one that’s less and less appreciated. So I was surprised that our Italian hosts wanted to demonstrate how well their wines might age. It was great fun to try them, but I suspect that they would leave most of the UK customers cold.  Cellaring potential is no longer a significant selling point.

After just a couple of days in the Beaujolais two things are clear to me: the 2009 vintage is magnificent and the economic crisis has hit the region hard. The consequence of the crisis over the last few years, which here predates the global economic downturn, has resulted in some growers abandoning Gamay, especially in the Bas Beaujolais. The prefer to try their luck, alas, with Syrah, Chardonnay and Viognier and sell it as humble Vin de France. But the 2009, as fine a vintage as I have ever tasted, shows just how good Gamay can be: exotically fruity, rich and complex, but with seductively soft tannins, even in the very top wines, and a delightful freshness. Surely a wine like this has got to make a comeback? Great producers like Thierry Condemine at the Chateau de Julienas remain unrepresented in the UK. Please will someone take a punt on him? His wines are quite superb – and the 2009, not yet in bottle, is a steal.

I’ve already commented about the successful partnership of two English wines from Chapel Down with Chinese food. Here are my notes on all the Chapel Down wines I tasted at Tenterden with Frazer Thompson, the Managing Director of the English Wines Group:

Vintage Reserve Brut NV

A slightly an odd name, I think, for a non vintage wine, but this blend of around 50% Pinot Noir and 50% Reichensteiner and Muller Thurgau is skilfully done and will surely only get better in future years as more premium grapes are included in the blend.  It has had 18 months on the lees – just enough to give it a little creamy complexity alongside the slightly floral character of the fruit. It’s fairly dry (around 9 g/l dosage), clean, fresh and rather appley.

English Rose Brut

A palish, salmon pink bubbly based on the Vintage Reserve Brut. It manages to taste significantly different, with a definite hint of redcurrants and fresh, clean, but softer fruit .

Brut Rosé NV

A very delicate onion skin rosé, with a distinct red fruits character – raspberry and strawberry. It’s 100% Pinot Noir and though non-vintage, the present release is actually from the generous 2006 harvest. It has an attractively long, biscuity finish.

Pinot Reserve 2004

A blend of 72% Pinot Noir and 28% Pinot Blanc (Chardonnay will feature in future releases). It is quite a deep straw colour and has a distinct Pinot Noir nose – rich and biscuity, but is balanced by clean citrus acidity with hints of apple. It’s remarkably fresh for a wine that has spent five years on the lees (it isn’t Chapel Down’s policy to cork age – wines are disgorged and sold).

Bacchus 2009

I’m much taken with this: it’s clean, slightly floral and has more than a suggestion of exotic fruits, guava and passion fruit as well as peach. It’s relatively light in the mouth, clean, fresh and juicy and with quite a mineral finish. I’m delighted to see that its already on Waitrose’s shelves – just a few weeks after bottling.

Bacchus Reserve 2006

A selection of the best grapes. It’s certainly more complex than the simple wine and has with greater length, but is, I think, a little less fun than the outstanding 2009.

Flint Dry 2009

Another success. The 09 blend includes around 30% Chardonnay and has good, lean, apple and peach fruit, with quite a creamy texture. It is softer and fruitier than its name suggests.

Pinot Blanc 2006

The outstanding still wine of the tasting – a lovely, gently, smoky apple aroma matched by a ripe apple flavour, and a much more substantial mouth-feel than its 10% alcohol might suggest.

English Rose 2008

The wine that really came alive with fine Chinese food is perfectly nice  on its own: perfumed, spicy and a little herby, with strawberry fruit.

Cinque Ports Classic 2006

An English classic in the catty, slightly sweet style. To be more polite, it has quite a pungent aroma of grapefruit and elderflower and a medium-sweet flavour that finishes a little short and bland.

Rondo/Regent/Pinot Noir Non-Vintage

Quite deep coloured, soft, easy, juicy, but not a lot of definition.

Pinot Noir (Tenterden) 2008

What a difference! A perfumed, spicy, true Pinot Noir, with real complexity. It’s every bit as good as some more expensive cool-climate  Pinot Noirs coming out of Germany and Alsace.

The story of my first meeting with Henri Jammet and his extraordinary wines will appear, I hope, in The Journal next Friday (and online).

There won’t be enough space there to fill out a few more technical details, or full tasting notes. So here goes …

Jammet has been making wine for over twenty years and as president of the St Sornin Co-operative was responsible for its expansion and  its  reputation for quality. St Sornin produces some of the best red table wines in the Charentes.

His own small vineyard high on the limestone hill to the east of St Sornin at La Fenetre is planted with Chardonnay (his favourite grape) and Chenin Blanc. He is also keen to try Pinot Gris. He uses a horse to plough and work between the vines, which are planted at high density: 10,000 vines per hectare. His yields are fairly low, around 50 hectolitres per hectare. His approach is sustainable rather than organic – he does not believe that organic viticulture would be easy to sustain in his situation, and he also points out that some standard organic practices are of questionable sustainability – like the use of copper sprays.

The 2009 crop was tiny. So far he has only released one wine from it, a moelleux Chenin Blanc. It was made from the tiny secondary bunches that developed after the initial buds were wiped out by a severe hail storm in May. The grapes are extremely scented (a product of the tiny secondary fruits?). They had a potential alcohol of around 16%. Fermentation was stopped (using sulphur) to leave around 50 g/l residual sugar. The wine shows lovely crunchy fruit, balanced by zingy acidity and finishes as it began, with an unusually musky, perfumed intensity. It is a very good wine, though slightly disconcerting.

His 2008 Chenin (his first) was vinified dry – to 14% alcohol. It has a reparkable depth of ripe, spicy, peachy fruit. It was vinified in oak (half in new barrels, the rest in year-old barrels), but the fruit dominates. Weekly batonnage (lees-strirring) during the ten-month stay in barrels certainly helps. It is, I think, the best wine he makes, and a superb bottle by any standard.

He made two cuvéés of Chardonnay in 2008. Both are barrel fermented – in true Burgundian fashion. One from fruit grafted on predominantly riparia stock which ripens first, has a slight musky character. It is otherwise fairly ripe and peachy, with just a little oak at the end. The other cuvée from older vines, planted in 1988 is both more tart and also more  pineapple-like. The oak is also pretty well integrated. Henri believes that it will age longer, though it is less immediately attractive now.

These last two wines have not yet fulfilled Henri’s dream of being the ‘best Chardonnay in the word’, but they are quite the best Charentais table wines I have ever tasted. Unfortunately to buy them you’ll have to visit – La Fenetre is about 20km east of Angouleme. Henri’s phone number is +33 5 45 70 40 06. If you visit the region, make the effort to go, see and taste for yourself. You’ll not be disappointed – unless Henri has sold all his stock!

My good friend Neil Pendock panned Jancis Robinson in print for attending a tasting while suffering from ‘flu and then writing up her thoughts – even though she admitted she could barely smell a thing. I gather than Jancis was not amused by Neil’s salty comments.

I feel for Jancis. I’ve had total nasal wipe-out ever since I caught the mother and father of all bugs after sitting for a couple of hours longer than I hoped in a faulty plane at Stansted airport last week (serves me right, I know, for not taking the train). On Monday I attempted to sparkle with knowledge in front of a nice crowd at Jesmond Dene House, who’d come for a Masterclass on Burgundy and the Douro. I did my best – but I couldn’t have told the difference between a decent Burgundy and glass of Dettol. Fortunately the group were reasonably up for interactive learning – they were prepared to tell me what they smelled and tasted, and I attempted to put it into context. And no Dettol was served.

The one wine that did momentarily penetrate my fug was Graham’s amazingly good 20 Year Old Tawny Port.  By a happy coincidence I’d also tasted it very recently when I visited at the lodge in Vila Nova de Gaia. It had, I see from my notes, a huge, complex, distinctly balsamic aroma and flavour with hints of undergrowth and also lovely, slightly (maderised) volatile acidity. I certainly detected the balsam again on Monday. It’s a bit more expensive that proprietary cold remedies, but a lot more fun.

I hope my sense of smell comes in from the cold soon – I have a kitchen side full of bottles waiting to be tasted.

I received an email from Vasco Croft the other day – who makes quite the best Vinho Verde I’ve yet tasted.  I gather he’d read my last blog entry and wrote, “I agree that Vinhão  is very much a wild, maybe a macho drink, “difficult” for the delicacy of feminine taste… but that is part of its original nature.”

Well, maybe; but what is all this stuff about ‘feminine’ and ‘masculine’ wines all about? Do women really prefer different wine to men, and is there any  evidence whatsoever to back up the assumptions the marketers seem to hold (such as pink Zinfandel is not for real men)?

I’m happy to accept that there are sometimes subtle, sometimes quite profound cultural difference that affect our taste preferences; so it’s quite possible that there may be (broad brush) gender differences too. But is there any hormonal or genetic disposition that relates gender and taste?  I still fume every time I see a lorry saying that Yorkies are not for girls …

On quite another tack, I picked up a bottle of Belgian Chardonnay at Brussels Airport last week (I was bored – which is how, I guess, those shops make most of their money). It was not worth 17 Euro, but this gently oaked little brew from North East Flanders: Wijnkasteel Genoels-Elderen, 2006 from the Appellation Controléé, Haspengouw was a creditable effort. It was lemony and clean, though with no great depth of fruit. Maybe it would have been better without its sojourn in oak and I don’t think that Chablis producers should lose much sleep, but I thought it was fun. I might even buy another bottle, though fortunately I pass through Brussels only once in a blue moon.

I’ve tasted and sometimes enjoyed a few bottles of Vinho Verde over the years, but it has remained pretty much a closed bk to me before I arrived in Porto last Friday. Thank you CVRVV (the local growers’ commission)! Your invitation was generous and your welcome warm.

So what did I learn from visiting more than a dozen producers and tasting the wine of a dozen more?

In no particular order:

Vinho Verde is pronounced ‘Vinyo Vaird’ and not ‘Vino Verdi’. (Verdi had nothing to do with it.)

White Vinho Verde’s USP is lightness, freshness, an enticing aromatic quality, crispness paired with delicious, food-friendly minerality and naturally low alcohol. At its best, it’s spot-on for today’s market.

Unfortunately it’s not all good.

Sometimes it’s very, very good – especially if it’s made (biodynamically) by Vasco Croft (much more about him on another occasion)

It’s possible to buy a 2008 Vinho Verde that’s been fermented after the 2009 crop. Some big companies are so obsessed by ‘freshness’ that they either freeze must or dose it with sulphur dioxide and keep it (cool) for twelve months or more until needed.

Wine made from searingly acidic unripe juice, dosed with sugar and carbonated (to around 1 bar.) should not be sold as Vinho Verde; but a lot is.

Red Vinho Verde is vile – especially that made from the red-fleshed Vinhão (pronounced ‘viniaouwng’ – as if by a malevolent, drunken cat with an adenoid problem). Staggeringly deep, its chief charm is an inky, elderberry-like aroma. Its downside is (no malo), fierce acidity and fearsome tannins. The locals insist that it’s terrific with fatty food. Some even delight in serving it in earthenware bowls to lessen its fruit appeal and boost its tannic and acidic structure. In short, if ever a wine has purely local appeal, Vinhão is it. Forget it, unless you have a passion for Scotch pies.

Fortunately, production of red Vinho Verde is in sharp decline.

Alvarinho (aka Albariño) is not the only northern Portuguese (white) grape variety worth making a song and dance about. Loureiro is pretty damn good and, in the right hands, Arinto can be fun too. And there are others.

Alvarinho’s considerable charms are ruined by fermenting and aging it in oak. There are no exceptions to this rule.

It’s not a terribly good idea to serve such wines with a sweet pudding. Ever.

Good, simply made Alvarinho, from ripe grapes and relatively low yields is a knock-out. It is Portugal’s answer to Hunter Valley Semillon. Whoever suggested that Alvarinho might be related to Riesling?

Some sparkling (by law, bottle fermented) Vinho Verde is excellent – though the regional commission’s recommendation that Loureiro should not be used as a base wine is puzzling. Vasco Croft’s Afros fizz, 100% Loureiro, is utterly delicious. All Vasco Croft’s wines are good. Even his Vinhão is passable.

The DOC Vinho Verde covers a huge area 34,000 scattered hectares. From a UK perspective, it’s Europe’s least well known major, quality wine region.

Despite the horrors that still exist, there are so many very good wines that it’s high time UK drinkers get to know it again.

Pinot Grigio is dead, long live Vinho Verde.