Most of the big political arguments have their counterparts in wine. Take the question of trade. One of the loudest debates of our time is between those who favour governmental control and those who would rather trust market forces. In this argument the world of wine perfectly mirrors the world of politics, with continental Europe obstinately in the first camp, the New World unthinkingly in the second.

Italy, France and Spain require that wines be classified by government-appointed experts, and that each wine label reveal its classification. The consumer must be sure whether he is paying for a vin ordinaire or a grand cru. He must be certain that if a wine comes from a particular location, it will only contain the prescribed amount of a certain grape. Armies of bureaucrats enforce these rules. Anyone who disobeys faces a stiff fine, perhaps even imprisonment. Read the rest of this entry »

Though undoubtedly an art, winemaking is not Art with a capital A. It is one of the great crafts, like cabinet-making or ceramics. I know many people dispute this, especially the young, whose duty is to challenge all established categories. Having joined countless undergraduate arguments on this subject, I have no wish to set off another. I simply make the point that if you admit any difference between Art and Craft – and I think you should – then you must accept that winemaking belongs to the latter, not the former.

That said, Art and Craft do share many qualities. One is the ability to shake prejudice. For instance, this week’s wine has shaken my mild but deep-rooted prejudice towards Rudolf Steiner, the Austrian thinker and esotericist. Read the rest of this entry »

Last week I discussed a winery that has been in business for about 10 years. This week’s was founded over 1800 years ago. Château Figeac is by far the oldest property of St Emilion, in Bordeaux. It was originally called the Figeacus estate, and its early history is veiled in fog.

We do not know when its owners first grew wine. In 92 AD the Emperor Domitian issued an edict prohibiting the planting of new vines, and this remained in force until 212. But it is not clear how strictly the edict was enforced outside Italy.

The name too is mysterious. “Figeacus” may be the family name of the estate’s first owners, but it may also be a corruption of ficus, meaning “fig-tree”. Read the rest of this entry »

More than once in these posts I have voiced doubts about the stories surrounding the names of certain wines and grapes, most recently Château Chasse-Spleen and Pinot Meunier. Enjoyable as these tales are, they often sound more like marketing inventions than genuine traditions, and even the more plausible ones sound decidedly odd.

One place that throws up more than its share of such stories is Beaune, in Burgundy. Although none of its wines has Grand Cru status, Beaune makes several of the region’s best Premier Crus. My own favourite is the Vigne de l’Enfant Jesus. Apparently its name derives from the fact that the vineyard used to belong to a Carmelite convent. The nuns, it is said, were so struck by the wine’s silkiness that they declared “It slips down the throat as easily as the Infant Jesus in velvet breeches.”   Read the rest of this entry »

For once I am breaking my own rules. I am discussing a wine I have only read about and may never have the chance to enjoy. If this distresses you, by all means write to complain.

The week’s liveliest news story was the resignation of New York’s governor, Eliot Spitzer, who was caught frequenting prostitutes. One detail of the story held my attention. Apparently each of Mr Spitzer’s visits cost between $4000 and $5000. Shortly after reading this, I learned that a bottle of 2005 Château Pétrus also costs around $5000. For anyone who is keen on wine, the coincidence is bound to prompt some reflection. Read the rest of this entry »

Version 1:  On his way to Spain, Lord Byron stops at the Grand-Poujeaux estate in Bordeaux. He tries the estate’s wine. He is enchanted. “It is,” he declares, “a medicine to drive out spleen.” From now on the wine is known as Château Chasse-Spleen.

Version 2: The poet Baudelaire visits a friend who lives near the Grand-Poujeaux estate. He tries the wine. He is enchanted. The wine is renamed after the Spleen poems in Baudelaire’s Flowers of Evil.

Which version should we believe?  As Bertrand Russell was fond of saying, they can’t both be right but they could both be wrong.   Read the rest of this entry »

Suppose you are a sucker for white Burgundy. Suppose also that the subprime loan crisis has left you bust. The days when you could afford Montrachet are over. Meursault is beyond your reach. The New World alternatives are pleasant enough, but they lack the finesse you are accustomed to. What are you to do?

First, expect no sympathy. The world is full of envious Calibans enraged by the mere idea of expensive wine. Advertise your plight to them and they will only sneer.

Second, consider the Côte Chalonnaise. This is still Burgundy, but it is less well known, and it offers bargains.

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The best value wines are the ones you have never heard of. This week I tried a well-known, expensive Barolo and wondered why I had bothered. I then drank an obscure Burgundy called Monthelie that cost half as much and gave three times the pleasure. And here is another wine that is cheaper still, even less well known, and a delight from start to finish.

Lirac is the oldest wine in the Côtes du Rhône region. In its heyday, around 400 years ago, it was prized throughout Europe. Read the rest of this entry »

Even people who don’t drink have heard of Margaux. The name has become synonymous with “luxury wine”, something consumed by rich, sophisticated people, along with Romeo y Julieta cigars and Beluga caviar – though ideally not all at once. Lovers of trivia may also know that one of Ernest Hemingway’s granddaughters was named after it. (She eventually killed herself, though for unrelated reasons.)

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One handy rule of wine drinking is to steer clear of anything from European cooperatives. Generally speaking, the words “Cantina Coop. Soc.” on an Italian label or “Cave Cooperative” on a French one are shorthand for “Evil-tasting muck, indifferently produced by lazy, ill-shaven peasants stultified by government handouts.”

And as with all rules of wine drinking, there is at least one distinguished exception. The Cave de Tain was founded in 1933 by a hundred growers from the district of Tain l’Hermitage, on the Rhône. Over the years they were joined by growers from Cornas and Saint Péray, and they later merged with another cooperative, the Cave de Saint Donat. Today the Cave de Tain has 370 members and a total vineyard area of over a thousand hectares. Such a history ought to make for industrial quantities of awful wine, but miraculously it doesn’t.

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