The inappropriate use of wines

Published on The Prodigal Guide on 4th January 2012:

A couple of months ago I was sent three bottles of Bordeaux by a friend for tasting. The Avery’s Pioneer Range Bordeaux 2009, Chateau Grand Jean Bordeaux Millésime 2009 and Dourthe Reserve Montagne Saint-Emilion 2009, to be precise. Nothing mind-blowing as they say but a fine selection of tipple for every day drinking. Shortly afterwards, another friend sent me a further three bottles of wine as a thank you gift. This time it was a choice selection from the 90 point club – that’s excellent for savouring.

Suddenly I had a small portfolio of enjoyable wines. Some would say that’s pretty good going and yet months later, the wines remained untouched. Until this week, that is.

After much struggle with a new and unfamiliar bottle opener from the Harrod’s Wine Shop, I managed to uncork the Avery. A deep inhalation down its neck was met with pleasure – robust plummy goodness. And then the purple liquor went straight into a measuring jug at 290ml and onto some cubed lamb-soon-to-be-daube waiting expectantly in the Le Creuset for its fruity marinade. The rest, uncorked, went into the fridge. Not a drop touched my lips.

Something similar happened a few months ago.

Shallots diced, parsley chopped, garlic minced and mussels scrubbed, I realised I had no white wine. How was I going to pull together a moules marinière? The Pommery which sat in the corner caught my eye. Swiftly the metal cage was disengaged, the cork wrestled out and the bubbles poured into the pan with the lid replaced firmly. A short while later, I had an indulgent lunch watched disapprovingly by the empty bottle.

Moules Mariniere

For the passionate oenophile, this must seem appalling. But for the avid gastronome? Probably quite appeasing.

My reasoning was this: since I spend much of the week at events, mostly involving some form of drinking, I really ought to curb my enthusiasm when at home. After all, drinking alone was never fashionable. Eating alone, however, was run of the mill business. Weighing up the probability of a guest who would genuinely appreciate the wine against the probability of me seriously enjoying the food, my ravenous hunger won out. I suppose that makes me a better gastronome than an oenophile, when alone at least.

Of course not every meal is as indulgent as the champagne moules marinière. On this lamb occasion, the Avery was chosen for its full fruited body and generous tannins though perhaps more so because I judged it as the lesser drinking wine out of my collection.

As it happens, I was cooking the lamb daube for a friend who had come to photograph me spatchcock a poussin. The perfect opportunity to sample some of that wine you say?

Well a small splash of the leftover Avery was supped with the lamb before it was filed back into the fridge – unfortunately I didn’t have the good sense to serve it at room temperature. Still, the dulled flavours of the chilled wine remained richly plummy and heavily tannic. It was not at its best for drinking but served rather well as a side to the already basked lamb, which my friend appreciated so much more.

See what I mean about probabilities?

And the rest of that bottle of Bordeaux? Well, it’s going into next week’s coq au vin. Naturally.

Georgia on my mind, Georgia for the wine

Published on BespokeRSVP on 2nd January 2012:

Man by grape crusher in vinyard

Somewhere in the back of my mind was always the idea that knowledge should have solid foundations; maybe it’s a philosophical thing about justified true beliefs or maybe it’s the way I’ve always been taught. But when I began exploring wines more extensively, it seemed apt to start from its origins – Anatolia.

Often referred to as Asia Minor, Anatolia is the ancient region comprising the modern day countries of Turkey, Armenia and Georgia. A place that’s fertile in soil, accommodating in climate and rich in cultural history, Anatolia has been shown by scientists and archaeologists alike to be the oldest region in the world where grapes have been cultivated and wines produced.

With hundreds of varietals and thousands of years of wine making history, where do I start?

Georgian flag, blue sky

I travelled to Georgia to begin my journey.

Hailed as the cradle of wine, and that of natural wines in particular, Georgia claims to boast some 8,000 years of history in wine making. With a plethora of indigenous varietals and a landscape of terroirs, the scope for interesting and unique wines is a connoisseur’s dream. Wine is also an integral part of Georgian culture and economy and the thing which links the country’s history to its present day affairs.

Lunch feast in Georgia

The majority of Georgians make wine at home for personal consumption but it also helps to ease the economic burden of regular toastings during Supras (Georgian feasts). After all, no guest is truly welcomed until they’ve experienced the hospitality of a Georgian fare complete with toasts made by the Tamada (toastmaster). Naturally, no toast would be complete without wine and Georgians are very hospitable people.

As a nation, Georgia also made wines for export. In fact, wine was consistently one of the top three products for export. During the Soviet era, its wines were distributed across the rest of the USSR and was recognised as being of the highest quality. After the dissolution of the USSR, Georgian wines continued their popularity in Russia and Central Asia. Over 80% of the wines exported from Georgia went to Russia so it came as no surprise that when Russia banned all import and sale of Georgian wines, the two came to blows.

Qin Xie at Alaverdi Monastery

Georgia is no stranger to conflict of course – its history is peppered with battles. It is said that the statue of Kartlis Deda in the capital Tblisi bears a bowl of wine in her left hand to greet those who come as friends and a sword in her right for those who come as enemies – the perfect personification of Georgian character.

But it was really the traditional Georgian method of wine production that caught my eye and enticed me to learn more.

Qvevris, giant handmade vessels of rounded clay amphora with a pointed base and no handles, are buried up to the rim in the earth. Crushed grapes – stems, pips, skins and juice all go straight into the qvevri which is then covered by a stone slab and sealed with wet sand. The subterranean conditions maintain a stable temperature in the qvevri and fermentation occurs thanks to the natural yeast found on the grapes.

Six months to a year later, occasionally even longer, natural wine is produced – nothing added, nothing taken away.

Grapes and wine in qvevri

Wines produced in this way are very different to its European-style counterparts. Red wines, typically made with Saperavi grapes, produce a deep plum stain. White wines, made with Rkatsiteli grapes alone or blended with Mtsvani grapes, take on an auburn hue. Then of course there’s the spectrum of colours created by the other indigenous varietals. Tasting the wines straight out of the qvevri at the Pheasant’s Tears vineyard in Kakheti, it’s impossible to deny the vibrancy of the fruit and natural sweetness of the wine. And there’s really few phrases which would describe that feeling well, except perhaps “the overwhelming sense of being alive”.

Is it just because it’s a natural wine? Having tasted a sizeable selection of other natural wines and  non-qvevri Georgian wines, I’m not so sure. There was definitely something about the qvevri which gave the wine its special characteristic, unrepresented anywhere else. Perhaps that’s why qvevri wine production has gained increasing popularity outside of Georgia with Josko Gravner in Italy being one of the most well known amongst the international wine crowd. Sadly, production and export is so limited that it’s extremely rare to find qvevri wines for sale.

Returning from Georgia, my mind was filled with abstract ideas on wine – the trip has certainly whetted my appetite. Tours around Pheasant’s Tears vineyard, Schuchmann Winery, Twins Old Cellar and Alaverdi Monastery all offered detail and perspective on the Georgian wine story. But have I found the wine grounding I was looking for? Perhaps a little, but mostly on natural wines.

I was sure of one thing though – my next learning destination will be Turkey, a lesser known wine destination offering even more indigenous varietals.

Bermondsey’s big cheese

Published in The Jellied Eel Winter 2012 Issue 34 and online:

Bermondsey's Big Cheese in Jellied Eel

Tucked away under a converted railway arch is Kappacasein, a café and dairy known for only one thing: cheese. Qin Xie talks to one of London’s only commercial cheese-makers. 

Since owner William Oglethorpe started his business – named after a protein found in milk – ten years ago, it has been steadily churning out cheesy products with increasing popularity. So popular, in fact, they allowed Oglethorpe to turn a part-time hobby into a full-time venture five years ago.

You may know him from his toasted cheese sandwiches and raclette at Borough Market, sandwiches that have been hailed London’s best by bloggers and the press alike. But two years ago, he also started making cheese as a means to reduce the costs of his business. Though he planned to make cheese only in the summer – when the dairy cows are fed on grass and are therefore producing the highest quality milk – he ended up carrying on through the winter too. These days he makes around 2,000kg of cheese a year, split between a soft cooking cheese (Bermondsey Frier) and a hard aged cheese (Bermondsey Hard Pressed Cheese).

Oglethorpe studied agriculture in Switzerland some 30 years ago, before going into farming in the South of France. It was there, on a goat farm in Provence, that he made his first cheese. His affinity for this dairy delight took him to London cheese emporium Neal’s Yard, where he worked for 12 years learning all about British cheeses and cheese-making.

The cheese he makes now is all rennet-set, using milk from Commonwork Organic Farm in Kent. It was the only place he found he could get the milk while it was still warm from the milking parlour, add the rennet, and transport it back to London in his ten 30 litre churns.

The relatively small size of his operation means that even with help from Jen Kast (pictured), his cheese-making assistant, he only has time to make cheese once a week. Still, that hasn’t stopped him experimenting. He’s currently looking to expand his cheese portfolio with a soft lactic-set cheese, as well as trying to become more efficient and sustainable. Right now, all of the whey produced as a by-product of the cheese-making process goes to compost. But Oglethorpe has invested in equipment that will soon be turning some of the whey into cream, from which he can then produce butter.

When asked about taking up cheese-making full time, Oglethorpe isn’t sure, but admits having considered Herefordshire as a possible destination. In the meantime, make sure you catch him at his stall at Borough Market on Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays, or at the Bermondsey café-come-dairy on Saturdays.

The Cuckoo Club – Members Club Review

Published on Design My Night on 30th December 2011:

Swallow Street, London W1B 4EZ

The Cuckoo Club has been recently redesigned by the 60s fashion designer and BIBA founder Barbara Hulanicki. But what goes on in its purple boudoir?

Décor and Ambience

The purple theme of The Cuckoo Club spells out debauchery and decadence everywhere but that’s precisely how they wanted it designed – with rock n’ roll in mind.

In the restaurant-come-club upstairs, the mirrored bar back with its towering shelf of liquors imparts a sense of something naughty. While the mixologist expertly concocts your cocktail, you can enjoy dinner on its plush banquettes or, with a reservation, in its VIP area. After the dining hour, that same room is transformed into a club with neon, strobes and cracking DJs.

Stairs, lit with a giant glittering disco ball, will lead you down to the basement club where you can also enjoy cocktails on their booths while you wait for that transformation. Or equally stay because it’s ready with music, drinks, a dance floor and comfy seating.

Atmosphere and Clientèle

The first thing you’ll be told when asking about The Cuckoo Club is that it never gets busy before 11pm.

Well, the club part that is. Members and non-members alike can book tables in The Cuckoo Club’s restaurant and it does get quite busy there. The perk for non-members is that they’ll also gain access to the club after dinner.

Because it’s a members’ club, The Cuckoo Club’s guests are rather well dressed, though that is not to say that they are in any way snobby. Indeed after a drink or two, everyone’s more than happy to mingle on the dance floor while the staff takes care of all your refreshment needs. It’s probably one of the few places in London where well-heeled students and successful young professionals blend in equal measures.

Food and Drink

The food at The Cuckoo Club doesn’t conform to cuisine. Instead you will find quite a selection of luxurious fish and meat dishes such as grilled langoustine and wagyu beef burgers.

Economical/drinkonomical is not a word considered here. With starters upwards of £10 and mains upwards of £15, you may have to curb your enthusiasm over their small selection of £8 desserts. Still, you will be rewarded well if you order the Valrhona ganache with sea salt crumble.

Drinks wise, cocktails are the thing to go for. Blends of champagne and absinthe will definitely get the party started but you can equally go for a tame G&T. Either way, the bar men know their way around an ice cube.

Music

Given its aspirations, The Cuckoo Club probably inclines more towards the rock n’ roll side but really you’re just as likely to hear dance and RnB classics. With different nights running throughout the week and on each of their dance floors, there’s certainly room for choice.

In Summary

The Cuckoo Club is not a night out for the faint-hearted or small budgeted but prepare for the large bill and you are guaranteed fun in copious supply.

Budget: Splash The Cash

Pre-designs: Fun-Time Party Night, Impress a date, A-List hang-out

Service: 4/5

Réunion Bar at The Grosvenor Hotel – Review

Published on Design My Night on 28th December 2011:

101 Buckingham Palace Road, Victoria, SW1W 0SJ

Réunion bar at The Grosvenor Hotel, not the French island in the Indian Ocean as you might think but a champagne and cocktail bar in The Grosvenor Hotel. So just where does it get its French name from?

Décor and Ambience

Enclosed in The Grosvenor Hotel, the site of Réunion was at one time a VIP Lounge for First Class passengers travelling from Victoria station. As it happens, Victoria was also the connection to Continental Europe via the luxurious Orient Express. So it seems that a Réunion was born to celebrate the amalgamated history of the two.

Very much staying true to its history, Réunion is decorated with the splendours of steam trains of years gone by but with a modern twist. Paintings of Brighton Belle, the other famous luxury train which departed from Victoria, hangs on either end of the bar. Pockets of seating are artfully cordoned off by curtains, creating intimate social spaces for meeting friends. A mirror reflects over the granite bar, centrally placed and illuminated by glass-ware lighting from above.

When you make your entrance, you will certainly feel like you’ve arrived.

Atmosphere and Clientèle

Despite not being overtly sign posted from the station, the bar is almost packed by 6.30pm. There’s plenty of space to stand but if you want to grab a seat, get there early. Luckily, the bar is well staffed so you won’t have to wait long to quench your thirst.

While Réunion is not a space for a quiet drink, it’s definitely not a rowdy venue either. The well-heeled guests appear to be mostly professionals enjoying a couple of drinks after work. In the corner booths you’re likely to find groups of suited men, clearly still engaged in an overrun business meeting. Sitting at the bar are the occasional lone traveller, soaking in the exotic martinis.

Food and Drink

Though Réunion offers up bar snacks in the shape of charcuterie, sushi and miniature bites, it’s really the drinks that matter. After all, it is a champagne and cocktail bar.

Most people in the bar seem to indulge in the cocktails. But with few champagnes by the glass and vintages costing up to some £650, you can sort of understand why the golden liquid isn’t flowing during the week. The cocktails on the other hand, start from just £7.50 and there are some carefully crafted ones like the Victorian martini. Of course you could always blend the two and go for a champagne cocktail. The toffee champagne is particularly good.

Réunion also creates limited edition themed cocktails alongside its usual offering, with a collectible menu. What a novel idea.

In Summary

If you find yourself with time to kill at Victoria station, consider popping into Réunion. Considering the jostle of the station, Réunion makes a much more relaxed waiting environment. And even if you don’t bump into an old friend, you’ll still be treated to some very good cocktails.

Budget: Happily Affordable

Pre-designs: After-work drinks, Impress a date, Waiting for a train, Catch up with mates

Service: 4/5