Part 5 (1/2)

IT IS QUITE possible that relatively few people would respond favorably to an invitation to try a gla.s.s of wine because it has notes of petrol in the bouquet. The others would be foolish not to grab the gla.s.s. Petrol is a benchmark aroma identifying a good riesling with some age. Young European rieslings with any quality at all overwhelm the senses with aromas of flowers and often of lime; those from hotter climates may include tropical fruit in the list. But as they begin to age, they change. The flowers begin to develop into honey, and the notes of petrol emerge more and more. By the time a great German or Alsace riesling is, say, twenty years old-and riesling can age and age-the combination is quite sublime. Many wine drinkers have failed to grasp the pleasures they are missing. The result, for those of us who do, is that the wines can be wonderfully underpriced. possible that relatively few people would respond favorably to an invitation to try a gla.s.s of wine because it has notes of petrol in the bouquet. The others would be foolish not to grab the gla.s.s. Petrol is a benchmark aroma identifying a good riesling with some age. Young European rieslings with any quality at all overwhelm the senses with aromas of flowers and often of lime; those from hotter climates may include tropical fruit in the list. But as they begin to age, they change. The flowers begin to develop into honey, and the notes of petrol emerge more and more. By the time a great German or Alsace riesling is, say, twenty years old-and riesling can age and age-the combination is quite sublime. Many wine drinkers have failed to grasp the pleasures they are missing. The result, for those of us who do, is that the wines can be wonderfully underpriced.

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An omelette and a gla.s.s of wine?

THE QUESTION-sans question mark-comes from the great Elizabeth David's collection of cookery and food writing, published in 1984. It conjures an image of perfect simplicity and perfect eating and drinking. We can smell the lavender and the fig trees and feel the heat of the sun. And such perfection requires neither great expense nor great luxury, just attention to detail and the careful matching of ingredients.

Which is odd.

We know, almost certainly, the precise omelette Miss David had in mind. It was l'omelette de la Mere Poulard l'omelette de la Mere Poulard, as made by the proprietress of the Auberge de Saint-Michel Tete d'Or at Mont Saint-Michel, who died in 1931, age eighty, but not before revealing the ”secret” of her celebrated omelettes: Je ca.s.se de bons oeufs dans une terrine, je les bats bien, je mets un bon morceau de beurre dans le poele, j'y jette les oeufs et je remue constamment.

Good eggs, bowl, mix, frying pan, b.u.t.ter, keep 'em moving ... and that's that. So much for the omelette. Now: what about the gla.s.s of wine?

And here's the problem: it's an absolute given that two things that never never go well together are wine and eggs. go well together are wine and eggs.

Contemplate a boiled egg, b.u.t.tered toast, and a gla.s.s of Brouilly, and your mental taste buds rise in rebellion. A Trockenbeer -enauslese with two fried eggs? Oh dear. Scrambled eggs and a fair young Beaujolais? No. No No. The palate quite correctly rejects the combination, and it is nothing to do with the choice of wine. Any Any wine will seem disgusting with eggs, and the taste of both will be ruined. True, there is a French dish, wine will seem disgusting with eggs, and the taste of both will be ruined. True, there is a French dish, oeufs a la meurette oeufs a la meurette, in which the eggs are poached with wine, but even Homer nods.

Why eggs and wine should not mix is unclear. We suspect sulfur has something to do with it; perhaps, too, that is why the humble (it has much to be humble about) Brussels sprout is also wine's enemy. As is that signifier of luxury, asparagus. eggs and wine should not mix is unclear. We suspect sulfur has something to do with it; perhaps, too, that is why the humble (it has much to be humble about) Brussels sprout is also wine's enemy. As is that signifier of luxury, asparagus.

A shame. But the Brussels sprout, if you must, can be accompanied with a good Normandy cider with no loss of face to either; asparagus can be indulged in before the first wine is poured; and as for the omelette, Guinness Imperial Russian Stout carries away the laurels, lightly chilled on a hot day.

So what was Miss David thinking of?

We should remember that her first book was published in 1950, when Britain was still afflicted with postwar shortages, the hideous memory of snoek and Woolton pie still vivid. Food was fuel, not sensual pleasure, and pretty poor fuel, too. Even acknowledging the pleasures of the table was the first step to becoming a terrible garlic-smelling, tax-evading, siesta-taking foreigner.

Into this gray climate, Miss David brought not so much a recipe book as a glimpse of better things. What could be better, in a nation still reeling from powdered egg, than a perfect omelette? What better to take away the taste of sour, watery war time beer than a gla.s.s of wine? And the combination of the two lit up the imagination, whether or not it worked in reality. After all, people dream happily of making love on a tropical beach, and thoughts of sunburn, insects, and all-pervading sand never enter their heads. Miss David was simply conjuring up a mood, and conjuring it beautifully.

Also, of course, the pleasures of the table, like all such delights, are as much enjoyed in antic.i.p.ation as in reality. And we have to admit that, as a temptation to sensual speculation, An Omelette and a Bottle of Stout An Omelette and a Bottle of Stout just somehow doesn't work. just somehow doesn't work.

How about a gla.s.s of fermented grape must?

ACCORDING TO THE European Union definition, ”fermented grape must,” no matter how unattractive it sounds, is wine. Grape must is what you get by crus.h.i.+ng grapes; the word European Union definition, ”fermented grape must,” no matter how unattractive it sounds, is wine. Grape must is what you get by crus.h.i.+ng grapes; the word must must derives from the Latin adjective derives from the Latin adjective mustus mustus, meaning ”fresh” or ”new” (that is, the juice before fermenting it to make wine). The problem is that the English word musty musty, which is not derived from the Latin (it is probably derived from moist moist), means ”moldy.”

So long as the label says wine wine and doesn't refer to must, no one is going to be put off drinking the liquid in the bottle. However, those who choose to make very low-alcohol wines have a problem: and doesn't refer to must, no one is going to be put off drinking the liquid in the bottle. However, those who choose to make very low-alcohol wines have a problem: EU regulations. One Italian winemaker, by stopping the fermentation of the natural grape sugars long before they are all used up, produces an interesting sweet red wine with only 5 percent alcohol. Under the regulations, he's not allowed to call it wine, but he is allowed to use the word must must. Therefore, he labels his wine mosto parzialmente fermentato mosto parzialmente fermentato, or ”partially fermented must.” Perhaps it sounds better in Italian.

Shall we have a gla.s.s of raisin juice?

THE CAREFUL READER of ”Yes, but what exactly of ”Yes, but what exactly is is wine?” will have noted that, according to European Union regulations, wine must be made from fresh grapes, which are defined as ”fruit of the vine ... ripe or even slightly raisined.” This could be slightly confusing, since wine?” will have noted that, according to European Union regulations, wine must be made from fresh grapes, which are defined as ”fruit of the vine ... ripe or even slightly raisined.” This could be slightly confusing, since raisins raisins in French just refers to grapes, while in English a raisin is a dried grape. in French just refers to grapes, while in English a raisin is a dried grape.

The method of drying grapes before crus.h.i.+ng them to produce the juice or must that is fermented to make wine was practiced by the ancient Hitt.i.tes and by the Greeks in the time of Homer. (The Hitt.i.tes, who had a remarkable empire from about the seventeenth to the thirteenth century BC BC in what is now central Turkey, have regrettably faded from the group memory, unlike the Greeks. The first written diplomatic treaty that survives, which is inscribed on gold and which is an agreement to carve up Syria, was agreed between the Hitt.i.tes and the Egyptians. Uriah the Hitt.i.te has a walk-on part in the Bible: coveting Uriah's wife, King David sent Uriah into battle and certain death.) in what is now central Turkey, have regrettably faded from the group memory, unlike the Greeks. The first written diplomatic treaty that survives, which is inscribed on gold and which is an agreement to carve up Syria, was agreed between the Hitt.i.tes and the Egyptians. Uriah the Hitt.i.te has a walk-on part in the Bible: coveting Uriah's wife, King David sent Uriah into battle and certain death.) Nowadays, the three best-known wines made from grapes that have been dried are all Italian: Vin Santo from Tuscany, and Amarone and Recioto della Valpolicella from Veneto. The effect of the drying is to concentrate the natural sugars (glucose and fructose) before the fermentation is begun, which gives greater sweetness and/or alcoholic strength to the finished wine.

Amarone is a dry red wine that used to be prized by some drinkers for its high alcohol content, exceeding 15 percent (which is, unfortunately, not so unusual nowadays). Recioto della Valpolicella is a sweet red wine, notable for going very well with chocolate desserts.

Ceremonial: will you take wine?

IT IS IMPOSSIBLE to ascertain whether it was George Bernard Shaw or Oscar Wilde who first observed that Britain and America are two countries separated by a common language. Wilde uses the phrase in to ascertain whether it was George Bernard Shaw or Oscar Wilde who first observed that Britain and America are two countries separated by a common language. Wilde uses the phrase in The Canterville Ghost The Canterville Ghost, while a 1951 dictionary of quotations attributes something similar to Shaw, but without giving a specific reference.

But it's true, and also true that the two countries are separated by common customs. Take, for example, the oddly stilted but rather charming custom of ”taking wine.” We don't refer here to bringing a bottle of something nice along to a friend's house for dinner, but to the formal business conducted at Masonic guest nights, Rotary Club dinners, and so forth. Here's a Masonic version, from the United States: During dinner the Master of the Lodge MAY MAY ”Take Wine” in the English manner with various brothers. This action will be announced, and presided over by the Wors.h.i.+pful Brother who is serving as ”Toast Master” or ”Master of Ceremonies” at Table Proceedings. The announcement of wine-taking is made by the ”Toast Master” in a single sentence, i.e.: ”Brethren, the W.M. will take wine with his Wardens.” Whereupon, the Master and the Brother(s) designated for the honor rise and the Master may make remarks recognizing the honoree(s), who then salute one another with their gla.s.ses and drink, then resume their seats. The Master may call on one of the honorees for his comments. ”Take Wine” in the English manner with various brothers. This action will be announced, and presided over by the Wors.h.i.+pful Brother who is serving as ”Toast Master” or ”Master of Ceremonies” at Table Proceedings. The announcement of wine-taking is made by the ”Toast Master” in a single sentence, i.e.: ”Brethren, the W.M. will take wine with his Wardens.” Whereupon, the Master and the Brother(s) designated for the honor rise and the Master may make remarks recognizing the honoree(s), who then salute one another with their gla.s.ses and drink, then resume their seats. The Master may call on one of the honorees for his comments.ONLY THOSE WHO ARE CALLED TO TAKE WINE WILL STAND. THE REMAINDER OF THE COMPANY WILL REMAIN SEATED.If the Toastmaster or the Master calls for the Brethren to take wine with a particular guest or other Companion, then ALL STAND ALL STAND. It is considered polite for short applause after each wine-taking.

Only a churl could take exception to this process, although it does seem a little elaborate. But the odd thing to an English eye is the phrase ”in the English manner.” We have indeed seen this done at formal English dinners, though only seldom, and the usual comment is that this must be an American custom that has found its way across the Atlantic, the Americans being less reticent about declarations of brotherhood (or sisterhood) than the British.

Whatever the case, we are glad to see it, and will happily ”take wine” with anyone who cares to suggest it.

Is wine becoming more alcoholic?

WINE IS DEFINITELY more alcoholic than it used to be. The tendency toward a higher level of alcohol began with Californian, Australian, and other New World reds. In the introduction to his more alcoholic than it used to be. The tendency toward a higher level of alcohol began with Californian, Australian, and other New World reds. In the introduction to his Pocket Wine Book 2008 Pocket Wine Book 2008, Oz Clarke complains of winemakers ”following the False High Priest of superripeness”-could this possibly be Robert Parker? -and producing the consequent high alcohol levels. Even France has succ.u.mbed, he says. Red Bordeaux used to be 11.5 to 12.5 percent alcohol, and now there are wines over 14.5 percent alcohol. Too much alcohol for a particular wine style spoils the taste and makes it hard to enjoy more than a gla.s.s.

The British government is becoming concerned about problem drinking in the middle cla.s.ses. They are increasing their alcohol intake, which, given the increasingly high levels of alcohol, rises even if the volume of wine they consume does not increase. In a rather obscure effort to deal with this, London is urging the EU to make it easier to sell wines with an alcohol level as low as 6.5 percent. Ridiculously, the British Food Standards Agency has in recent years had to impound low-alcohol wines in order to comply with EU rules.

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If you don't want to wait for the EU regulations to be changed, try some older German rieslings, which should be well below 10 percent alcohol.

What was all that about Mateus Rose?

HOW IS IT that some wines simply sum up a specific period? For 1960s Britain, it was probably Blue Nun Liebfraumilch or perhaps Bull's Blood. For America in the same period, Thunderbird and Lancers spring to mind. In the 1970s, after a heated race between them, Mateus Rose won the day. The very name, to those who were alive then, conjures up images of the inevitable steakhouse-in all probability, Britain's long-gone Berni Inns chain-with shrimp c.o.c.ktail to start, then a rump steak with ”all the tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs” (an entirely flavorless tomato, half a dozen pallid b.u.t.ton mushrooms fresh from the can, and rehydrated dehydrated catering ”peas”), concluding with Black Forest Gateau and a ”specialty coffee,” usually called ”Irish,” which meant the sort of coffee that today would make even a trainee barista faint with horror, laced with whisky, and topped with a strange, slimy layer of floating cream. All ”washed down”-that was the phrase they used-with a bottle of Mateus Rose. that some wines simply sum up a specific period? For 1960s Britain, it was probably Blue Nun Liebfraumilch or perhaps Bull's Blood. For America in the same period, Thunderbird and Lancers spring to mind. In the 1970s, after a heated race between them, Mateus Rose won the day. The very name, to those who were alive then, conjures up images of the inevitable steakhouse-in all probability, Britain's long-gone Berni Inns chain-with shrimp c.o.c.ktail to start, then a rump steak with ”all the tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs” (an entirely flavorless tomato, half a dozen pallid b.u.t.ton mushrooms fresh from the can, and rehydrated dehydrated catering ”peas”), concluding with Black Forest Gateau and a ”specialty coffee,” usually called ”Irish,” which meant the sort of coffee that today would make even a trainee barista faint with horror, laced with whisky, and topped with a strange, slimy layer of floating cream. All ”washed down”-that was the phrase they used-with a bottle of Mateus Rose.

It was a masterpiece of wine branding: the characteristic squat bottle, the picture of the elegant castle on the label, the sweetish inoffensiveness of the vaguely petillant petillant wine inside. It went perfectly with the entire repertoire of British middle-of-the-market dining out, from A to B, and was somehow redolent of flared trousers, mushroom-brown polyester safari jackets, Hush Puppies shoes, and round-collared jersey-knit patterned s.h.i.+rts. If you inhaled deeply, you could almost smell the memory of patchouli. wine inside. It went perfectly with the entire repertoire of British middle-of-the-market dining out, from A to B, and was somehow redolent of flared trousers, mushroom-brown polyester safari jackets, Hush Puppies shoes, and round-collared jersey-knit patterned s.h.i.+rts. If you inhaled deeply, you could almost smell the memory of patchouli.

For many of us, Mateus Rose was last seen being wielded by the ghost of Manuel in a sort of revenant Fawlty Towers Fawlty Towers, where the Dining Experience was summed up, in one episode, by a man trying to change his dinner order only to be told by Sybil, ”I'm afraid it's a bit late; chef has has opened the opened the tin tin.” We moved on, and Mateus Rose (one always always mentioned the Rose part, as if there were many other forms of Mateus to choose from) stayed behind. mentioned the Rose part, as if there were many other forms of Mateus to choose from) stayed behind.

For the economist, influential blogger, and self-confessed head of the shadowy international scandium oligopoly Tim Worstall, who lives in Lisbon, Mateus never went away: It's simply one brand of the rose version of one of the great Portuguese traditions, vinho verde vinho verde, meaning green wine, or young wine. White, red, rose, dry, semi-dry (and very rarely, sweetish), great racks of the supermarket shelves are taken up with it ... and, yes, the Portuguese really do buy it. It isn't just some crud whipped up to sell to the ignorant Brits.

Not that we wish to accuse Worstall of being disingenuous or overloyal to his adopted country, but there is a little more to it than that. The truth is that Mateus Rose is almost entirely the creation of a marketing genius, Fernando van Zeller Guedes, who founded the Sociedade Comercial dos Grandes Vinhos de Mesa de Portugal in 1942 (now in third-generation family owners.h.i.+p and known as SOGRAPE Vinhos SA). What Guedes was after was a wine with a clearly Portuguese ident.i.ty but which would appeal to an international-and not necessarily wine-drinking-market. He was, in a sense, trying to scoop up the beer drinkers from one side and the soda drinkers from the other. And he succeeded. Mateus Rose achieved an almost unheard-of brand recognition, and this before the days of sophisticated demographics, computerized market research, or any of the other tricks of twenty-first-century branding.

What he did have (apart from a fairly average vinho verde vinho verde made from red Douro varietals such as Baga, Tinta Barroca and Rufete) was made from red Douro varietals such as Baga, Tinta Barroca and Rufete) was image image. The bottle-lifted from the traditional Franconian Bocksbeutel Bocksbeutel-was simultaneously unlike any other ma.s.s-market wine bottle, but with the odd familiarity of the military water canteen. As for the label, it does indeed show the Casa de Mateus, but the stuff has never been made there. The current count's grandmother made a shrewd deal with Guedes, allowing him to use the Casa on his label in return for a supply of grapes for fermentation and resale, an agreement that lasted until Portugal's April Revolution of 1974.

But like all brands unless carefully nurtured, Mateus Rose fell into the abyss of unfas.h.i.+onability. For anyone pa.s.sing as a sophisticate in the 1980s, to order-or even acknowledge the existence of-Mateus meant instant loss of credibility. A publican in the family told us that he had visited the Mateus winery. ”Not to buy,” he said hurriedly, ”just to see. And what I saw ... I made a solemn vow I would never speak of it never speak of it.” Pure bravado, of course, but it showed how decla.s.se Mateus Rose had become. The wine remained the same, but the image had failed.

And there was worse to come. On the Whisky Magazine Whisky Magazine Web site for December 26, 2006, one ”daisy12chic” posted a message headed ”Mateus Rose” ( Web site for December 26, 2006, one ”daisy12chic” posted a message headed ”Mateus Rose” (sic), whose text would have made Guedes's hair stand on end. ”We have a bottle,” the message read. ”I am including the image. Not sure what it is-might be wine. Thanks!”

How are the mighty fallen. Yet the company is not giving up the struggle. The Mateus Rose has been reformulated, the bottle redesigned, and other wines-an Aragones, a s.h.i.+raz, a Tempranillo, and an unspecified Mateus White-have been added to the range.

Who knows-in a world exhausted by intricate televisual gastronomy, where even Delia Smith has now written a book on how to cheat at cooking, the 1970s may yet return to our dinner tables, and Mateus may once again come to symbolize the good life.

Is English wine any good?

THE ANSWER TO this question is yes-and some of it is very good. It is primarily white and sparkling, and there is not very much of it. England and Wales have fewer than 3 square miles of vines for winemaking. Even in England, only a minuscule proportion of the wines on sale are English, and outside of England, you are likely to encounter English wines only when you attend a reception at your local British emba.s.sy. this question is yes-and some of it is very good. It is primarily white and sparkling, and there is not very much of it. England and Wales have fewer than 3 square miles of vines for winemaking. Even in England, only a minuscule proportion of the wines on sale are English, and outside of England, you are likely to encounter English wines only when you attend a reception at your local British emba.s.sy.