A weekend in La Clape – Part 2: Highlights from the Gerard Bertrand portfolio

dsc_0242.jpgSo despite being led astray by my SatNav and taking a detour through every village in the Languedoc, eventually we made it to Chateau l’Hospitalet. Never mind that we were two hours later than anticipated, arriving long after the sun had gone down.

Last time I visited Chateau l’Hospitalet, the weather was practically inhospitable. A relentless, icy wind blew for the length of the weekend, worsened by bouts of driving rain that made any trip into the outdoors about as attractive as shopping on Oxford Street on a Saturday afternoon.

Thankfully this year the conditions were much more becoming of southern France. On Saturday morning we awoke to relative tranquillity. No gale-force winds or sideways rain. Which is a good thing for an event centred on vine pruning and watching a fluffy brown dog sniff out truffles.

Anyway. The dogs I can discuss in another post. Today we’re here to discuss the primary reason for visiting Gerard Bertrand’s flagship estate: his portfolio of fine wine.

Just prior to lunch on a Saturday morning we sat down for a tasting of 10 wines from the Gerard Bertrand portfolio representing a broad cross-section of properties and styles in the region. The intention was to showcase the release of new vintages, 2014 for the white wines and 2013 for the red wines. Here are my thoughts. The first four wines are white (in green text), the other six are red wines (in red text).

Chateau La Sauvageonne Grand Vin 2014
A blend of grenache blanc, vermentino and viognier. Medium lemon in colour with stone fruits, peaches and marmalade on the nose, as well as vanilla. In the mouth, it has a lush feel with further stone fruits and a creamy quality, with an element of minerality to balance things. Quite forward on the nose but very enjoyable.

Chateau l’Hospitalet Grand Vin 2014
A blend of roussanne, vermentino, viognier and bourboulenc. More restrained on the nose when compared with the Sauvageonne blanc. This is very clearly a roussane/viognier blend given its aroma, with citrus, stone fruits and hints of oak coming through. Medium body, it offers up further stone fruits in the mouth and has a long finish. Very good now but will clearly improve.

Aigle Royal Chardonnay Limoux 2014
A 100% chardonnay originating from Roquetaillade, the fermentation begins in vat and is then transferred to new barrels at the mid-fermentation stage. Light lemon in colour, this wine has restrained aromas of peaches, citrus and oak. With a creamy mouthfeel due to barrel fermentation, this wine is delicate on the one hand but with substantial power in the background. Very good.

Cigalus IGP Aude Hauterive 2014
A blend of chardonnay, viognier and sauvignon blanc from Bizanet. This comes from a biodynamic vineyard where 70% of the wine is fermented in new barrels and 30% in steel vats. Malolactic fermentation is performed on some of the barrels. This wine has beautiful aromas of peaches, cream, vanilla and marmalade, with a distinct banana characteristic as well. In the mouth, further citrus and peaches come through. Very, very good.

Chateau La Sauvageonne Grand Vin 2013
A blend of grenache, syrah, mourvedre and carignan. Deep ruby red with black fruits (blackberries, plums, black cherries, blueberries) on the nose, with hints of strawberries and black currants. On the palate there are more black fruits with a good backbone of tannin and acidity. This is a classic grenache/syrah blend with good fruit and is not too overpowering. Good.

Chateau l’Hospitalet Grand Vin 2013
Always a favourite of mine, the 2013 vintage of Chateau l’Hospitalet’s Grand Vin — or any other Languedoc wine for that matter — is truly worth seeking out. A blend of syrah, grenache and mourvedre, this wine is aged in new barrels for 12 months with periodic stirring of the lees. This wine is deep in colour with dense aromas of black fruits. Still young and restrained, it is possible to pick up the hallmarks of this style: black fruit, garrigue, herbs and a distinct aroma of olives. With good acidity and tannin, this wine will age well. Very, very good.

Chateau de Villemajou Grand Vin 2013
Another favourite, this is a blend consisting of carignan, syrah, grenache and mourvedre where the carignan and syrah are vinified in whole bunches with carbonic maceration for 10 to 18 days, while the grenache and mourvedre are vinified in the traditional manner after de-stemming, with maceration of 15 to 20 days. Deep ruby red in colour, this has beautiful aromas of black fruits, blueberries, black currants, cherries and violets. in the mouth there is yet more black fruit with undertones of red fruits. This is very clearly a Corbieres wine with quite a bit of power without being heavy. Very, very good.

Aigle Royal Pinot Noir 2013
A 100% pinot noir wine from Roquetaillade, the grapes are de-stemmed completely before fermentation, with the wine ages in French oak for 10 to 12 months, where it undergoes malolactic fermentation. Light rub red in colour and offering up vibrant aromas of red berries, spices and vanilla, as well as strawberries and red currants. This has a  delicate feel in the mouth, with good acidity and a tannic backbone to give it ageing potential. Very good.

Cigalus Aude Hautervie Rouge 2013
A blend of an incredible seven different grapes (cabernet sauvignon, cabernet franc, merlot, syrah, grenache, carignan and caladoc), this comes from a biodynamic vineyard where the syrah and carignan are vinified separately in whole bunches, while the rest of the grapes are de-stemmed and vinified in what they describe as the traditional way. A deep, dark ruby red colour, this has an intense, brooding nose of black fruits (prunes, plums, black currants), while in the mouth it offers of strong acidity and tannin with more layers of complex black fruits and a dash of vanilla. Full bodied, this is a powerful wine with plenty of life ahead of it. Very, very good.

Le Viala Minervois La Liviniere 2013
A blend of syrah, grenache and carignan, Le Viala comes from a small parcel of land at Chateau Laville Bertrous. The grapes are thoroughly sorted prior to fermentation, with the carignan and syrah transferred to the vats in whole bunches where they undergo carbonic maceration, while the grenache is de-stemmed and left for a traditional maceration for three weeks. Deep ruby red, this has complex aromas of garrigue, olives, herbs and black fruits. It is very much a Minervois, but of a fine quality, with black fruits and solid acidity in the mouth. It’s quite weighty but well-rounded with plenty of tannins to give it a long life. Very, very good and among the finer wines of the region.

 

 

 

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Tasted: The Outsiders of Languedoc

wpid-dsc_0689.jpgWhen I first heard of the group of wine producers known as The Outsiders, I had visions that they were a band of outcasts akin to those conjured up by SE Hinton or even Camus.

I was clearly over-romanticising. The Outsiders in this case are anything but a band of misfits and societal outcasts. Instead, they’re a group of winemakers. All of them upstanding citizens. At least as far as I could surmise.

This is a group of winemakers operating in Languedoc-Roussillon who come from all over the world and from a variety of walks of life but, crucially, are not native to the region. What they have in common is their active decision to settle in Languedoc-Roussillon to make wine.

There are times when calling oneself an outsider is something to embrace. When it comes to the bureaucratic labyrinth that is the regulatory framework of the French appellation system, being an outsider is often seen as a disadvantage. The stubbornness of the appellation system is no place for an iconoclast, where decades of tradition are preferred over ‘frivolous’ notions of commercial viability, free enterprise and experimentation. Despite this, it seems that these Outsiders have been able to overcome, or embrace, the bureaucratic machine and carve out a niche for themselves.

As part of their effort to market their wares to UK merchants, this group of international winemakers (they come from all over the world, from America and Australia to the United Kingdom, Switzerland and yes, within France itself) hosted a small tasting in London back in early May.

Looking back on my rather shabby notes, I can see clear evidence that this was a decent tasting despite having experienced the onset of a head cold that same morning. First, I managed to write notes against every wine on the list, a clear sign that I neither grew bored with the wines, nor daunted by their numbers. Second, the greasy fingerprints left behind on the paper suggest that the spread of charcuterie and cheese on offer was more than adequate. Of course, as the photo below shows, reading the chicken scrawl that is my actual notes does present a bit of a challenge:

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As a tasting that included a broad range of wines from across the Languedoc region, it is hard to make generalisations or make sweeping statements about the producers. Quality levels were high, but there were obvious differences among the producers in terms of what they are trying to achieve. Some are aiming for affordable, accessible wines, while others are aiming for something a little more profound. In other words, you won’t be having any flashbacks to that time you bought vin en vrac from what looked like a petrol pump behind a dusty shed.

If I’d had the foresight to, say, scribble down scores for each of the wines I tasted, I’d have a much easier time selecting my favourites from this group. But where is the fun in that?

Anyway, enough of my digressions. Here are my highlights from a good bunch of wines. Some of these winemakers are still seeking distribution here in the UK, while some are available to buy from various merchants and supermarkets, although I’ll be darned if I can remember which ones.

Chateau Rives-Blanques Occitania Mauzac Limoux 2013

A still white wine made from the mauzac grape, this is a rich wine that is matured in oak and offers up stone fruit flavours. This is a delicious wine that has a lot of heft and fruit behind it while still being dry

Domaine Sainte Rose Le Pinacle 2012

There is quite a lot to like about all of the wines of Domaine Sainte Rose, but if I had to narrow down my choice to just one, it would be Le Pinacle 2012. Consisting of 95% syrah and a 5% dash of viognier, this has the style of Cote Rotie with a lush palate and medium body. It has an attractive earthy character backed up by red fruits and the potential for a long life.

Chateau d’Angles Grand Vin Red 2010

La Clape is one of the great wine regions of southern France and this producer has brought some Bordelais swagger — complete with red trousers — to the area. The grand vin is a real pleaser, with a high level of mourvedre in the blend to make a deeper, bigger wine that has an attractive balance of fruit and earthy flavours.

Chateau Beauregard Mirouze Fiare 2010

I might be at risk of selecting too many ‘top’ wines from this tasting, but this was among the standouts from Chateau Beauregard Mirouze. With 18 months of barrel age, this displayed dark fruits (prunes and raisins) and had a deep, broody, earthy, chocolatey character to it. In many ways it was sunshine in a glass.

Domaine Saint Hilaire The Silk Chardonnay IGP Pays d’Oc2012

In the past I was never a big fan of chardonnay from the south of France. At times it seemed flabby, overripe and lacking any real character or complexity. But this is something different. It could very well be a competitor to decent Burgundy, having a healthy but not excessive oak treatment, not to mention a real elegance and finesse about it. Close your eyes and you think you’re drinking something from the Cote de Beaune or even the Cote d’Or.

Domaine La Madura Grand Vin Blanc 2014

This was a delight, a barrel-fermented, sauvignon blanc-dominant wine.Fermented and matured in older barrels, this older oak treatment is immediately noticeable on the nose, while on the palate it is rich with citrus and stone fruits, and has a long finish.

Domaine Turner Pageot La Rupture 2013

Another white wine that grabbed my attention. This was a lot like a white Bordeaux to me, made of sauvignon blanc but in a restrained style that is free from the more modern take on SB that has proliferated the market. Fresh, mineral and a good match for food. Not a whiff of cat pee to be sniffed.

Domaine Modat Le Plus Joli 2011

This is warm, spicy and very much a syrah from the south of France. With 80% syrah and the balance consisting of grenache and carignan,  this Rousillon displays licorice and nutmeg, with fine tannins and a long finish.

Chateau Saint Jacques d’Albas Le Chateau d’Albas Minervois 2012

A blend of syrah and grenache, this is aged 12 months in barrel and offers up all that is good about Minervois. It is warm, with fine tannins and a backbone of ample red fruits .

Domaine de Cebene Les Brancels Faugeres 2012

All of the wines from this producer were excellent, but Les Brancels seemed to stand out to me. This was what was described as the ‘house blend’ of syrah, grenache, mourvedre and carignan. I love the wines of Faugeres and this displayed all the characteristics that keep bring me back: warmth, earthy aromas a flavours, a good backbone of fruit and a fine complexity that pulls it all together.

Not mentioned…

Two other producers that were at the tasting but without a mention here were Le Clos du Gravillas and Domaine Le Clos du Serres. This was for no other reason except that my notes for these producers were a bit too sparse (likely because I was chatting rather than writing) for me to be able to write a recommendation.

 

 

 

 

Incomprehensible vineyard name: Nk’Mip Cellars

Wine could very well be one of the few products that can have a confusing name and still sell well.

This goes against the ethos of most branding experts. Our supermarkets and department stores are bursting with products whose creators went to great lengths to find the easiest, most recognisable names. Nike. Arm & Hammer. Apple. Google. Tesco. You get me.

But look at most French, Italian or Spanish wines. Unless you are fluent in all three of those languages, there is a strong chance you have been flummoxed by a winery name, the name of the wine itself, the name of the region where it came from or the name of the grape used to make the wine. And if you hit the jackpot, you were confused by the lot.

Yet you still bought it. Why? Because it’s wine. Because no one can pronounce most Italian words anyway. Because no one really knows where the Cotes de Blaye appellation is but they know it’s probably drinkable. And that’s all that matters.

Now, for us Anglophones you would have thought most of the English-speaking New World would offer us a welcome respite from the confusion all those foreign labels have created.

Then the Canadians come along and decide to screw with our minds…

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Ignore my bald head for a moment and focus on the sign in the background.

Nk’Mip.

Now try to pronounce it. Think you got it right? Probably not.

It goes like this: In-ka-meep.

Nk’Mip is a First Nations word from the Okanagan language that means ‘bottomland’ and refers to the area where British Columbia’s Okanagan River flows into the north end of Osyoos Lake (where you’ll also find the town of Osoyoos). Founded by the Osoyoos Indian Band, Nk’Mip Cellars was the first aboriginal-owned and operated winery in North America. And they’re no slouches. The winery is part of the greater Nk’Mip resort project, which includes a golf course, resort and spa, as well as a desert cultural centre. It’s a serious business.

The winery/cellar door is in a modern building that on one hand is impressive and new, but on the other seems a little soulless:

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But there’s no denying that this is in a beautiful setting. Here we see the rolling hills just outside Osoyoos:

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And here we see views of Osoyoos Lake from the winery looking over the vineyards:

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Like any good winery, they have a restaurant and patio. It turns out this is how you make big money in wine country:

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Not to be outdone, their tasting room is large and spacious. And if you’ve ever watched Sideways or been to Santa Barbara County, you might find it to be in the same spirit as the Fess Parker winery (known as Frass Canyon in the film), complete with cheesy souvenirs that fit in with the vineyard’s theme:

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Yes, that’s me looking a little bit lost in the cavernous tasting room:

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Now to the wine. I managed to work my way through quite a few of Nk’Mip’s wines and overall I found them to be fairly pleasing. They arguably make the best chardonnay in Canada and, being that it’s the only wine of theirs I’ve actually bought and dragged back to London with me, you could say it gets my seal of approval. It is Burgundian in style but not too oaky or flabby like so many New World examples.

Anyway, to the tasting notes, which had to be fished out of my recycling bin a few weeks ago. If the little stars that I drew on my tasting sheet are to be trusted, I was particularly fond of the winery’s Winemakers Series Riesling 2011 and Chardonnay 2011, as well as the Qwam Qwmt Series (Kwem Kwimt) Chardonnay 210, Pinot Noir 2010, Syrah 2008 and Meritage 2008.

The Winemakers Series Riesling 2011 is from their basic range of wines and sells for $17.99 Canadian. But it isn’t a slouch. It has a classic gasoline/petrol nose, has plenty of citrus and has a grassy, chalky palate with a pleasing minerality. For the price, you probably can’t go wrong, although I accept that there might be better examples from Australia and of course Germany and Austria – albeit for more money.

The basic Chardonnay 2011 is predominantly aged in steel (60%) but it also sees (40%) French oak to give it some much-needed depth. It had hints of vanilla from the oak, was medium-bodied and also had a mild creaminess. Not at all bad for the price, but it left me wanting more.

My favourite wine of the tasting might have been the Qwam Qwmt Chardonnay 2010 ($24.99). This sees 10 months of new French oak and extended ageing on the lees. It is a nutty wine of medium body and acidity with just enough hints of vanilla to be pleasing without going overboard. I found it to be aromatic, full of citrus fruits and minerality, as well as a long-lasting finish.

Other wines on offer included a fabulous Qwam Qwmt Pinot Noir 2010 ($29.99) that reminded me of a pinot from New Zealand’s Central Otago region. Plenty of red berries, mild oak, caramel, along spices and earthiness. It was quite a bold pinot, but also enjoyable.

The Qwam Qwmt Syrah 2008 was also a top wine and, if I’m not mistaken, earns high scores from critics. It seemed reductive on the nose, but I could have just been imagining things. It displayed the classic pepper and spice you’d expect from a syrah, but also seemed to have some sort of scent of tree sap or pine, which many people in the Oakanagan believe is a characteristic of some wines there. Whether or not this is truth or fiction remains to be seen.

Wine shop Where’s Waldo? (Wally if you’re British)

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I don’t like to admit it, but I’m a stereotypical man when it comes to shopping. Confronted by myriad options, I panic and try to rush the process, usually to my own detriment.

I have a long-running track record of coming home with bags full of new clothes only to discover they are all the wrong size.

Plus I am easily swayed by salespeople. If I tell them I want to buy product X, somehow I walk out with product Y instead – and then regret it later.

Twice now I have walked into a wine shop to buy a bottle of Au Bon Climat (they have a terrible website, by the way) only to walk out with something I probably didn’t want.

For me it seems bottles of ABC are as elusive as the Holy Grail was to Monty Python’s Graham Chapman.

It’s safe to say the buying process can be a struggle for me, so I find it unhelpful if the bottles of wine are arranged though the shop is managed by Rob Gordon from High Fidelity. Imagine if the bottles were arranged autobiographically rather than by country, region or colour.

These shops exist. Because I’ve been to them.

Finding what you want in these places is impossible without seeking help an employee. And I think that is part of the tactic, because whenever I’ve come in looking for X, they always seem to steer me, through subterfuge and sensory overload, to something else. Something more expensive. Something that, in my cynical mind, probably isn’t selling fast enough.

Now, you would think arranging a few bottles on a wine shop’s shelves is straightforward.

All you need to do, really, is have a different shelf for each country and then separate the white wines from the red wines. Then on other shelves you have space for Champagnes and sparkling wines, dessert wines, Ports, sherries and anything else.

Simple. So simple, in fact, wine shops up and down the country do exactly this, from the cavernous Majestic Wine Warehouse to the neighbourhood vintner and even the fusty merchants like Berry Bros & Rudd and so on.

Even the supermarkets – known for their efficiency at delivering products to customers’ hands – dare not meddle with this system. They know what’s best.

Yet there is always someone who thinks there must be a Better Way™ to do things.

I can think of two shops within shouting distance of my home that have shunned the conventional layout.

Offender number one has no signs on the shelves at all. It simply has all the whites on one side and all the reds on the other. After a few confused minutes of staring blankly at all the bottles, it eventually occurred to me which ones were white and which were red.

Then a few minutes later I figured out they were, in fact, arranged by country – but not in anything that resembled alphabetical order.

Last I checked Germany comes before Spain in the alphabet. Unless they’re referring to the country as Espana. But if you’re going to use Espana on the one hand, you had better be using  Deutschland on the other.

The other shop I visit takes it a step further and arranges everything by grape. Yes – by grape.

If you want to tell prospective customers they’re really not welcome in the shop unless they are knowledgeable to identify what they want by its constituent grapes (and it better not be any fucking merlot), you know you’re dealing at the higher end of the market.

But how helpful is this for the average consumer? Think back to a time before you knew much about wine. Think back to when you knew the wine only as St Emilion or Saumur, as Rioja and Chianti. A time when you couldn’t name the grapes used to make them.

Merlot? Cabernet franc? Tempranillo? Sangiovese? Would you have thought to head for the shelf with those grapes labelled at the top? Handy for those of us who wake up and say, “Today I’d like to buy a bottle of chenin blanc and I want the shop to arrange all of the world’s chenin blancs together in one place so I can compare and contrast.”

But not so handy if you wake up and say, “I just want a bottle of Vouvray, whatever the hell it’s made of.”

And don’t even get me started on some of the blends I’ve seen. Cabernet-shiraz. Chenin blanc-chardonnay-viognier. Or how about Olaszrizling-furmint-hárslevelü-juhfark?

Do they have a shelf for that?

Two Buck Chuck: If you’re going to slum it

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I have a few fond memories from my youth that involved experimenting with the cheapest booze I could get my hands on, but the best one involves a wine few people would admit to drinking.

A student’s budget and a general ignorance when it came to alcohol meant I tasted more than my fair share of oddities and abominations of the alcoholic kind.

But the worst of them all came into my life when my brother emerged from a B.C. Liquor Store with a bottle of red fortified wine called Bounty, a truly awful concoction with an alcohol level of about 20 per cent.

It featured a dramatic, square-rigged sailing ship on the label and a tagline that, if memory serves, suggested its contents promised us “the exhilarating taste of adventure.”

This was the sort of wine that was often seen on the side of the train tracks where the local alcoholics hung out. In fact, the only reason my brother bought it was because he spotted an empty bottle of it next to the train tracks that day, just a few steps from the liquor store.

We should have known drinking this ungodly elixir was going to be difficult. In the end, it had to be cut with a high ratio of tonic water. Even then it was still a challenge.

You would think, then, the same can be said for all cheap wine, that all of it is impossible to drink and nothing good can come from being a tightwad. And in many cases, this holds true. But sometimes you come across surprises – even if, deep down, you were hoping not to.

This came to mind when I heard the news that American grocery chain Trader Joe’s was raising the price of its Charles Shaw wines to $2.49 a bottle from $1.99.

If you don’t know of Charles Shaw, you might have heard of Two Buck Chuck. Yes?

I was sad to find out Two Buck Chuck would never be known by that name again. It was heartening to know there was a wine out there that could be bought for less than we pay in taxes alone on a bottle of wine in the U.K., which is £1.91 per bottle + 20 per cent VAT. (Annoyingly, even at its new price it is still cheaper than what we pay in taxes.)

In an absurd way, I am happy to say I got to try two of the last bottles (by last I mean among the last few million, no doubt) before the increase.

Being able to drink an entire bottle of wine for just $1.99 – or even the new price of $2.49 – is mind-boggling, although I know this isn’t unheard of in other parts of the world (I am reminded of a roadside sign in Castillon, France, advertising ‘rosé’ for €2 a litre).

The fact it tastes nothing like ethylene glycol or acetone is an achievement the Bronco Wine Company should be proud of.

Anyway, the two bottles of Two Buck Chuck (a cabernet sauvignon and a chardonnay) I recently acquired came to me by way of my friend Mel, a Los Angeles native who now lives in London. During his trip to the city of Angels over Christmas, he had the genius – and I mean genius in the best possible way – idea to buy them for me.

I always knew about this wine, but had never had a chance to drink it. It was featured on the California wine series hosted by Oz Clarke and James May, and my own father drank it when he was in California a couple of years back . From what I’d heard, it was perfectly drinkable and innocuous, albeit bland.

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The cabernet sauvignon, however, was a quantity I’d not come across before, but based on my knowledge of volume wines, I figured wasn’t going to be completely putrid. Perhaps it would be awful, but certainly it wasn’t going to burn through my stomach lining and cause me internal bleeding or anything like that.

Now, let’s take a step back here a moment. Think back to my experience with that bottle of Bounty. Or think back to your own experience with a horrendous, cheap bottle of wine.

If your first memory is that of a gagging reflex, you are on the right track.

But much to my surprise, the Charles Shaw wines didn’t burn as they went down my throat. They didn’t have obscene, rough flavours. They weren’t overly sweet like a lot of cheap New World wine. They were they were simply neutral, dry as they should be and, overall, completely inoffensive.

The chardonnay wasn’t over-oaked or flabby like many a bad California version, which should earn it a medal for that achievement alone. Meanwhile, the cabernet sauvignon didn’t have that sweet edge you would expect from, say, a Yellowtail wine, and if left to breathe for a while, had typical if uninteresting cabernet aromas and flavours, and tasted like an honest, if not complex, wine of acceptable quality.

Let’s remember here, these bottles were just $1.99. What else can you buy for $1.99? Here in the U.K., it won’t even cover the taxes.

House wine: Sometimes you just want to drink the cheap stuff

After spending a week in the scorching 35C heat that is typical of Rome in late June, I came to the realisation there is no such thing as wine snobbery when all you want is something cold, wet and refreshing.

When you’ve spent all morning schlepping around the Roman Fora, up and down the Colosseum, then shuffling through various other museums, come lunch time it doesn’t matter how fine or special that wine be when you plan to quaff it without any consideration for however complex it might be.

Normally I would shy away from ordering the house wine willy nilly at an unknown restaurant. And there are many more places I eat and drink regularly where I still won’t touch their cheap stuff. This is status quo here in the UK, where we expect the cheap wine on a restaurant’s list to be absolutely dire so order something from the middle of the list instead.

While there are exceptions to this rule, the number of you nodding your heads as you read this only confirm my point. My argument is only strengthened by the fact Decanter magazine ran an entire feature article this month on how to choose wine wisely – because we’ve all grown tired of being bamboozled once the cork is popped.

But in Rome, none of this seemed to matter. Whether I was buying by the bottle or the carafe, the cheap stuff or the ‘expensive’ stuff, not once did I whince after tasting a house wine, particularly when it was of the white variety.

This is down to two things. Either a) the wine at these Roman restaurants is of general higher quality than you find in your average establishment here in the UK, or b) it was so hot I simply didn’t care or notice what the wine was like as long as it was cold and refreshing.

Whether I was drinking Orvieto, Frascati, a suspiciously cheap and light Trebbiano from a one-litre bottle that surprised me and didn’t taste anything like paint thinner as I had anticipated, it seemed Rome’s restaurants were much better at executing cheap wine than the UK’s.

Perhaps there’s a good reason for this. Understanding Italy’s Byzantine wine universe is no small feat. Those of you who find French wine confusing enough have no chance when it comes to Italy. Whether you’re trying to make sense of Piedmont, Tuscany or Veneto, something new always enters the fray to muddy the waters.

Think you know exactly what is in your Barolo? Think again. The introduction of French grapes to a country with more great native grapes than it could ever need means what you think is being made from nebbiolo might, in fact, contain a little of something else.

Perhaps because of the utter confusion Italy’s wines cause the rest of us, its restaurateurs feel obliged to lend us a hand and provide us with something serviceable from all corners of their wine lists.

Of course, I have serious doubts about that last bit.

We shouldn’t have to feel like cheapskates when ordering house wine. When all we want is a decent glass of wine at a low price, why should we feel guilt for taking the affordable route? If only bars and restaurants would put some thought into this and stop serving us the worst chardonnay, sauvignon blanc or merlot they can find.

Photo: Freedigitalphotos.net