Before I get on to Santa Maria, London’s best pizza establishment where I have had the most consistently stunning and ultimately gratifying examples of my life, and give a brief overview of the wines we had an irksomely limited time to taste and appreciate I think it reasonable to introduce the dramatis personae of the afternoon’s capers in more detail.

Mac Forbes is Australia’s most charming fellow. “Not much competition!” the wags amongst my esteemed readership may quip, but Mac is someone really special. ‘Special’ in a good way, I mean. Coming from a country famed for its sociable inhabitants who loathe Europeans in general and the English in particular Mac is unusual in relishing his frequent trips to the Northern hemisphere and positively unique in not endlessly whining about the weather here.

The reasons for his trips are relevant to this site: he comes to work with, learn from and, I would wager, teach an impressive amount to a select few luminaries of the European wine-making scene – all deeply in favour at Elitistreview. These experiences surely assisted in developing an aesthetic ideal and set of skills that enable him to produce the most interesting and stylish wines from Australia that I would have no hesitation ranking as obviously the country’s best. They are entities of finesse, harmony and winning attractiveness. Consequently, when I first met the man himself I was not surprised to find him supremely tuned to the correct wavelengths. Tuesday’s chat over a few glasses (after an admittedly heavy tasting engagement that morning) showed us to be in absolute agreement on innumerable topics as varied as most Australian wine-makers missing the entire point of drinks, associates of the natural wine movement tending to spout duplicitous crap (especially in their choice of name) and red trousers being top clothing for all, be they fathers or insane wine-writers.

I feel charged with age-related angst admitting that I have known Lance Foyster for nigh-on twenty years. We first met at Oxford where he was the local Master of Wine who could be relied upon to give emergency tastings when other merchants couldn’t be arsed to turn up. Moreover, his efforts in training the blind-tasting team were much valued, even though he thought we were odiously convinced of our own peerless skills. I think he wanted to take us down a peg or two when he gave my team the most fiendishly difficult blind tasting session I have ever experienced. The chance he’d demand I identify another bottle of that impossibly perplexing Soave resulted in palpable terror when we met for years afterward.

However, his shop was unusually packed with fascinating wines for this neophyte taster, so I risked the Soave peril and rolled up every so often to buy palate-improving kit and, when allowed, pick his brains. His intense passion for wine was evident and one I shared, but I soon realised he had more laudable traits rarely found in those who sell. Most of us who have worked with wine know that, with depressing frequency, we are going to have to tell appalling lies about despicable filth in order to dump the dross on a no-hoper and earn our not-terribly honest wage. Lance has never done this. I imagine it has made his career more challenging, but unless it interests him Lance will not buy, sell or even spout salesman’s platitudes about a wine. Years of application have informed his tastes, which I usually am in absolute agreement with, and that which does not stimulate them is irrelevant. Disinterest in and disconnection from the dull is, alas, uncommon in the wine trade and by sticking to his principles Lance (and his partner Isabelle Clark) have built up a business with the most captivating and consistently high-quality list I have seen in this country. Their portfolio tasting was obscenely enjoyable and these days, given the protective shields of loud shirts and lurid trousers^[1], I’m not always petrified when he asks if I want to try something blind.

Makes a change all this nice stuff about people rather than torrents of colourful abuse, eh? I rather enjoy it. The pizza and wine bits below are also positive.

I’ve now been to the Ealing pizza establishment Santa Maria quite often and I was happy to finally get Editor Daniel there – I value his sophisticated appreciation of food. Whilst they’ve been consistently superb, Tuesday lunch went beyond being top bunny fast food into that mesmeric realm where the boundaries of pleasure are expanded and conceptions of extreme enjoyment are redefined. It was cracking.

When looking at the menu Daniel commented that as he read about each pizza he wanted one. I warned him they were quite large and always left me stuffed, so we limited ourselves to three pizzas between the two of us.

Previous experience suggests it would be hard to do otherwise, but as we launched into our lunchtime trio we felt we had ordered rather well. It was certainly a great move to upgrade the mozzarella on two of them to the DOC Buffalo option, especially as the price difference was minuscule. Moving from one pizza to another continually increased our gratification and it became clear that, whilst they were all quite different, any relative quality distinctions were impossible. I’ll attempt to encapsulate the character of each one.

The Pizza Carmela came with cooked, chopped ham and grated Parmesan as additions to the usual toppings. At first glance the ham didn’t look so interesting, it wouldn’t have looked out of place on the most drearily banal of takeaway pizzas. Yet it had an intensity that did it for me in lewd style. Rich, complex and gorgeous piggy flavours filled my mouth and just kept on lingering; ham from the top shelf kept hidden by an opaque wrapper to minimise it arousing sensual passions. I love Parmesan and the quality of cheese used for this was transparently obvious. This looked like a pretty standard pizza, it was lubriciously enjoyable.

Next to hit the table was a Calzone San Salvatore, a folded pizza with more of that cooked ham and also Neapolitan salami along with a mixture of mozzarella, ricotta and Parmesan cheeses inside it. It looked very thin as far as my previous experiences of calzones went, not a stuffed pouch. However, the ratio of filling to crust was just right and the fillings themselves were in absolute harmony, complementing each other in satisfying style. I have waxed lyrical in the past about the marvels of La Porchetta’s calzone, it seems a pale, weak construction having consumed half of this wonder.

Number three, the Giuseppe, undoubtedly left me gob-smacked. Its toppings were Neapolitan sausage, Buffalo mozzarella, chilli flakes and something I never thought I would order, wild broccoli known as friarielli. If you are a charitable type and willing to endure a degree of revulsion you probably view green things with distrust. An active aversion to the horror broccoli is a measured and sensible view. The friarielli served to us was completely removed from such vileness – it is the only broccoli I’ve eaten that I have actually eaten. This disconcertingly pleasant flavour was a delicious match with brilliantly meaty sausage and enlivened by the chilli. What a pizza! Far better than its description and immeasurably beyond anything my imagination suggested.

The restaurant is rightly proud of their carefully chosen ingedients, ostentatiously displayed on their website homepage, and also their wood-fired pizza oven. These, along with skill in preparation and a manifest desire to excel, make Santa Maria a champion destination for enlightened diners who know that fast food can deliver extremes of gustatory pleasure.

Finally, the wines. Much to my chagrin I’ve be obliged to move my UK stash of wine to a temporary location that I have suddenly been unable to access. I am intensely pained that almost nothing accessible is drinkable. The horror. The best I had for Mac and Lance to try were two Domaine Arlaud 2007s that should have been rather good: a Morey-Saint-Denis Premier Cru Millandes and Chambolle-Musigny Premier Cru Chatelots. When I popped the Chambolle and sniffed I was appalled; somehow it had been exposed to heat and been totally ruined. I could only apologise and pop the Morey with my fingers crossed. It was a delicious wine that really pulsed with the wonderful fruit and complex earthiness of Morey. Charged with sophistication it was very close to reaching its peak of drinkability. During the 45 minutes available before appointments called us to different ends of London it opened up, gained complexity and became really rather lovely. I swiped what remained of the bottle and it peaked at 4am on Wednesday morning and maintained that quality until I necked the final glasses at 2am Thursday morning. It was suffused with the excellence of the village and was a lambent 2007; Cyprien Arlaud always delivers in style.

I was very happy to try Mac’s range of 2010s and quite impressed by the jump in complexity they showed compared to his 2008s; they’ll get even better as the vineyards mature. I consider myself a seasoned expert on the Yarra Arneis having tried it with uncommon regularity, which is to say a total of four times. Mac’s 2010 was a taut, minimalist wine of precise fruit and direct acidity. The general fruit character? Difficult… Let’s say something between approximately ripe Riesling and less fortunate Muscat. Sounds nasty, and perhaps it nearly is, but Australian wines are never this refreshing or suitable for oysters and general fish-themed food. It definitely had value.

The other white we tried was the 2010 Woori Yallock Chardonnay. It was the most restrained, elegant and stunningly complex Australian Chardonnay I’ve tasted. Needless to say, duty required me to craftily swipe an extra slug of whilst people were distracted. Not many from there are 12%. This is because the grapes were not overblown with sugar (and devoid of acid) when harvested but had an average level of ripeness about spot on to craft a light, enjoyable drink. However, within the the plot of vines there was great variation around this average in the maturity of fruit, giving the final wine its pleasing, intricate array of flavours. As a result, you could drink this thrilling little number all day and never get bored.

When I first poured each of Mac’s Pinots and noted the colours I almost wondered what an Australian wine-maker would make of them. Of course, the one present was pleased as chips with them as he knows depth of flavour and depth of colour have little correlation. Insisting your wines be inky purple is a weird perversion.

The Yarra Valley Pinot Noir, made from a blend of grapes grown in two locations, may have been a small-scale wine of moderate alcohol content but its attractive fruit was amazingly pretty and deliciously enjoyable on both the nose and palate. Coupled with this, its bright acidity and lively tannins made it an energetic and refreshing drink of quite light body. It certainly would never leave you feeling tired and generally shagged out after a few glasses, a trait which results in wines as horrific as the loathsome Mollydooker.

His Gruyere Pinot was the very first of Mac’s wines I tried. Back then I loved its compact style and elegant fruit. Whilst retaining these desirable attributes, the 2010 had slightly riper fruit aromas, a touch more fat to its body and more complexity when sniffing and tasting. A corking drink that delivered wizard enjoyment.

When trying the complete range of Mac’s single-vineyard Pinots it is the Yarra Glen which most excites me: his 2010 is the best yet. It is the youngest vineyard he farms so its complex profile is perhaps a touch surprsing. Its taut, focussed fruit displays plenty of intricate detail with a direct and pure stoniness enhancing its sophistication. Great acidity and a lithe structure keep it highly drinkable and the intensity of flavour really shows it to be a shining star of coruscating quality. It is Australia’s best Pinot, oh yes.

Quite a Tuesday, I am sure you’ll agree. These are three first-class recommendations. Firstly, Mac Forbes stellar 2010s are all worthy of fun token expenditure and will generate a new enthusiasm for the best from Australia. Secondly, Clark Foyster Wines whose rejection of the mundane and commitment to quality led them to Mac and an array of other topping producers. Finally, don’t clean Lance out of wine as you’ll need a few notes to visit Ealing and writhe with pleasure when eating Santa Maria’s sublime pizzas. Producer, purveyor and pizzeria are all at the very top of their classes.

Oh yes, whilst Ealing is largely quite nice and civilised, a couple of shops near Lance’s pad seemed a tad out of place. One called ‘CP Loft’ featured a spanking horse in its window, I felt the other, ‘Strip Training’, was more my kind of place.

Contact details:

Clark Foyster Wines, 15 South Ealing Road, London W5 4QT. +44 (0) 208 8327470

Santa Maria Pizzeria, 15 St. Mary’s Road, London W5 5RA. +44 (0) 208 5791462

1. ^[1] Red trousers are almost required uniform for the London wine trade. In all honesty, I find such efforts to be a tad inadequate. This is because I have a pair of livid pink cords with ducks embroidered on. These are trousers at the bleeding edge of stunning leg-attire and clearly signal my unswerving dedication to wine. I admit they provoke largely incoherent threats of violence from horrible, horrible Woolwich’s hard of thinking majority, but such fellows rarely come around to dinner. Those who do correctly recognise them as trousers of the gods! ↩

Even though moderation was called for, it is evenings like this that remind one why one drinks wine – not only were all of them hilariously fine but also sharing such delights with enlightened company is highly gratifying. I have to say I was pleased that Peter S was a tad delayed, as this gave me the opportunity to try some Sherry I’d scored before my hospital appointment yet was unable to pop before my pancreas did. It was an exhilarating precursor to a hoopy roller-coaster ride of brilliant wines.

Fino Perdido, Sanchez Romate Hnos.

Before I get to the note, this Sherry deserves a bit of exposition. The wine is bottled in April, when the growth of flor yeast on the surface of the wine in barrel is at its thickest and so imparts most flavour. It is also quite old for a Fino, with an average age of its constituent wines being eight years old. Finally, the wine is bottled without fining, filtration or any other form of jiggery-pokery; consequently it retains maximum character. The label warns us that the wine may be a tad cloudy, or throw some deposit, but who really cares about such things? Historically this Sherry style was called a ‘Fino-Amontillado’, but the use of this moniker has been banned – hence the name Fino Perdido meaning ‘lost Fino’.

On to the note. It is the darkest Fino I have ever seen, real golden/amber tones present. Even though it is only 15% it smells incredibly potent and profound; the depth of character it displays is quite arresting. There are all the Fino nutty aromas one would hope for, but they are quite striking in terms of their power and complexity. Brilliant stuff to sniff. The palate also has a prodigious density and layers of complex flavours charged with energy. It is pretty god-damned concentrated too. The finish just lasts and lasts. I think this is the best Fino I have ever tried and it cost me a mere £7.95 a bottle – an obscene bargain for such a captivating wine.

Meursault Tessons Clos de Mon Plaisir 1993, Domaine Roulot

This has all one could ask of a mature Roulot. It definitely has mature toasty, vanilla aroma whilst also not being short on lively fruit, creamy minerality and definite complexity. The energy it has is impressive, not tiring in the slightest but rather fizzing with life. The palate also has an incredible interplay between mature and fresh characteristics which make it highly engaging. The acidity levels are great and it has a really satisfying savoury character. There is some age-derived roundness here but I feel this is more a wine about lithe sophistication. The finish is great. All those people who have been sniffy about 1993 White Burgundies would do well to try this, it is a brilliant wine. Will keep a bit longer too.

Crozes-Hermitage Cuvee Gaby 2007, Domaine du Colombier

I popped a bottle of the 2008 Cuvee Gaby not so long ago. I liked that then and I like this now. The alcohol level of the nose is a tad higher than the 2008, but it is still far from being hot or unbalanced. There is lovely, refined fruit as well and it is not short on earthy aromas. The nose makes me think it is suffering somewhat from being in a middle-aged hole, but there is still plenty to relish here. The palate is a model of Crozes delight; ravishing fruit, tannins on the right side of rigorous, as is the acidity and it speaks of its appellation in terms of its mineral components. I should have popped this a year ago or waited about five more, but it is a winning Crozes.

Hermitage 2007, Domaine du Colombier

Considering the time Hermitage needs to express itself at its best I can understand if you think I am fairly bonkers for popping this and the next wine when they are so young. Moreover, I think Domaine du Colombier make Hermitage that needs longer in the cellar – what can I say apart from “Yes I am bonkers”. I popped them because I wanted to see if I should be acquiring any more of these vintages before they disappear from the shelves, I rather think I might.

A powerful, dense nose suffused with monumental fruit and splendidly complex minerality. We are told that Hermitage is the manliest wine of France and I can see plenty of strapping, virile characters here. You couldn’t really describe this nose as charged with minimalist finesse , but I think if you expect that in a ripe vintage, young Hermitage you need to re-adjust your stylistic expectations. I am really taken with this nose. The palate has a great Hermitage tannic structure; rigorous, but in exemplary harmony with the rich fruit. The acidity seems spot on to me too. This is incredibly long, leaving you will much to think about as the flavours slowly subside on your palate. A serious Hermitage that I will open my next bottle of in at least ten years time.

Hermitage 2008, Domaine du Colombier

Glorious blueberry, plummy fruit bursts from this nose. The alcohol is a tad higher than the previous wine but I see nothing lacking in terms of ultimate harmony. It is a swashbuckling, vigorous nose (just as I’d expect at this age) but everything is in the right place and shows flashes of great things to come in the future. At the moment the palate is perhaps most suitable for the brawny lover of red-blooded hedonism, but this is not an over-blown, over-whelming fighting wine – it is a damned good young Hermitage from what is clearly a top bunny vintage for this producer. It is true I usually prefer minimalist, sculpted little beauties, but when a wine can manage such levels of stirring vehemence and still do that whole harmony thing I’ll drink the bleeder with a big grin slapped across my face. Good stuff, needs time.

Nuits Saint Georges Premier Cru Chaignots 2005, Domaine Robert Chevillon

Ho ho ho! This is what quality Nuits should smell like: infused with dark, brooding fruit and clear earth characters – beezer! It is clearly very ripe and a tad on the young side but I know I am going to love this when I can drag myself away from sniffing it. Those tannins are a perfect expression of ripe vintage Nuits, bold but not punishing. There is a great acidity to it and its minerality is just right in the zone as well. Freaking gorgeous, no buggering about with new oak or excessive alcohol levels, it is just a brilliant Nuits Premier Cru which you should not really be opening for at least five more years. When mature, this’ll blow your socks off.

Riesling Beenerauslese Graacher Domprobst 2005, Willi Schaefer

Sublime.

Oh, you want more? This is one of the very greatest very sweet wines I have ever been lucky enough to try: it hurts me, it moves me, it ignites my faculties of both intellectual and visceral flavours. A great wine is something other – this is boggling my mind. Sure, it is intensely sweet, but the acid levels are more than you could ask for in such a wine – they hurt. The expression of minerality has not been diminished by vintage warmth or high botrytis levels. The length staggers me. Ah I was right first time: sublime.

Burgundy is always a favourite wine to drink as that region clearly makes the best wines, certainly the best red wines, in the world. The village Gevrey James brought along was stunning and we were very pleased that the two whites showed not the slightest hint of oxidation. I was rather chuffed to follow these up with an instructive selection of Domaine Tempier Bandols. It is a bit of a shame that Domaine Tempier no longer make wines of such individual character and cellar-worthiness. I was presented the first three wines blind so my notes contain the steps I made toward guessing the wines’ identities.

Puligny-Montrachet Premier Cru Folatieres 2001, Domaine Paul Pernot

This is the kind of nose one hopes for when tasting quality white Burgundy that has some age on it. It may have mature, toasty, buttery aromas, but that lemon fruit is fresh as a daisy and it has plenty of life to it. The refined minerality seems very Puligny in character and, given the minimalist use of new oak that seems in real harmony with the composition of the nose, I think it is a good Pernot wine. Cripes, now that is a glorious palate of charm and ravishment that I just want to wallow in. The fruit and body may not be ultra-focussed, a hint of broadness can be most appealing, though, and it is in this wine. The acidity is good, but perhaps not as high as in some vintages: is this a 2000, 2002 or 2005? It also has mature flavours present, that broadness could well be due to its age, and I think it is drinking as well now as it ever will. The finish goes on and on. I feel I have some experience with this wine and I am delighted to have tried it again, my guess: Puligny-Montrachet Premier Cru Folatieres 2000, Domaine Paul Pernot (Oh well, not such a bad guess, I’d have thought there would be more acidity in a 2001 but I am still happy to have enjoyed this). Many thanks for bringing this, Peter, I loved it.

Puligny-Montrachet Premier Cru Les Referts 2001, Domaine J. M. Boillot

Wow, this is bursting with fresh, ripe fruit and as far as I can tell shows only hints of maturity. It is a sophisticated white Burgundy, though, with its great minerality and classy, restrained oak treatment. A 2005 Premier Cru, I’d suggest, although the village is difficult to pin down. I’ll have a taste. Great minerality here as well, with finely balanced acidity and absolutely delicious fruit. This is really giving and forward, with great length and real sophistication to its flavours. As far as typical village descriptions go it is clearly one of the big three and a post-pubescent example at that: I think it is a bit too buxom for Puligny, not enough like flat Champagne for Chassagne and so I am left with Meursault. I can see this as an allure-charged, young Meursault from a ripe vintage, but I am afraid the producer alludes me. My guess: 2005 Meursault Premier Cru from a producer I am less familiar with (wrong village and vintage, feeble effort Strangey old chap. It did seem very young when we were first sampling this). Many thanks, James, this was a top bottle of Puligny. I don’t drink much JM Boillot these days and I clearly should.

Gevrey-Chambertin 2002, Domaine Georges Mugneret

Irresistable, hedonisitic fruit on the nose charged with intricate minerality and oozing with undeniable class. It can only be damned good red Burgundy. It is not showing much in the way of tertiary characteristics and the fruit is really opulent – this is a young wine from a great and distinctly ripe vintage – a 2005? The village is not entirely clear to me, but based on the wanton extravagance of the nose I’d lean toward a Chambolle Premier Cru. I can see that assessment fitting with the palate which is really silky and svelte with polished tannins and gorgeous fruit. Despite its ripeness the acidity is totally in the zone and its sophisticated earthiness does it for me in passionate style. Really long finish. Young and giving, with a long smile-provoking life ahead of it – it is a stunning wine of manifest class. My guess: Chambolle-Musigny Premier Cru 2005 from a Premier Cru and producer I’d rather not commit myself to (Hopeless!) Great wine James, one of the best village-level numbers I’ve had in quite a while, thanks for popping it.

Bandol Cuvee Speciale La Miguoa 1999, Domaine Tempier

Given my reasonably comprehensive exposure to Tempier wines I think this shows precisely what one seeks in mature Miguoa – it has soft, scented fruit, that has a hint of dirtiness to it (thanks to the Brett) and a powerfully rich earthiness. There are shades of leathery, meatiness to it, but in Miguoa these are always more subdued than in the other single vineyard wines thanks to its lower proportion of Mourvedre. For all its ‘unwashed animal’s rude bits’ aromas, this is a real charmer of a nose, giving, open and really complex. I love the palate, too, which has soft, ripe tannins showing not a hint of toughness, brilliantly mature fruit and that powerful earthiness that these wines showed so well before the 2001 style shift. This is absolutely a point, top-hole kit that reminds me of many happy experiences in the past.

Bandol Cuvee Speciale La Tourtine 1999, Domaine Tempier

Now this is more in the leathery, meaty zone as far as expressions of Bandol go. Not short on ripe but mature dark fruit, though, and it pulses with vigorous earthy complexity. It does seem accessible on the nose, but not as suggestively open and welcoming as the Miguoa. Even though this is 12 years old there is still more than a shade of rigour to the tannic structure. That being said I think the harmony is just fine, as there is an abundance of dark fruit and rich minerality keeping things balanced and enjoyable. If you like classic expressions of high Mourvedre-content Bandol you would be pleased as chips to try this, and chuffed as punch if you kept it for a few more years. Great stuff, I can totally understand the view I held when first I encountered Bandol that La Tourtine was the best one could get.

Bandol Cuvee Speciale Cabassaou 1999, Domaine Tempier

A stunning and intense expression of Mourvedre fruit on the nose, it throbs with dark berries, grilled meat and arse-walloping strips of leather. The nose shows a bit of the high alcohol level, but such is the lunatic scale of all the other components on display this does not seem like such an issue. Indeed, this is a wine for those who like them of heroic constitution and almost intimidating personality. Not a sculpted, ravishing little number, oh no. Cripes, if I thought the Tourtine needed more time then I suppose I will have to forget my remaining bottles of this I have stashed in the cellar until I am distinctly old, tired and shagged out – it is seriously tannic, butch and a country mile away from full maturity. Those tannins could do ten rounds with a seriously worrying prize-fighter and leave him looking like he’d been chewed up and spat out. I think it does have the stuffing to become a mature and accessible wine at some point in the future, but it could easily take as long as I have already cellared it for to reach that state. Top stuff, but needs a long, long time.

As you can see from the attached photo, Richard was keen to celebrate his son’s birthday with a degree of intensity. The jero he is enthusiastically modelling was a 2008 Von Schubert Maximin Grünhauser Abtsberg Riesling Spätlese.Some people have been a bit sniffy about the quality of recent Von Schubert vintages – I detected no problems with this bottle. Sulphur did show on the nose, but sulphur is a necessary and good thing and no one seemed bothered by it. The fruit on the nose and palate was vivid and perfectly ripe supported by mouth-watering acidity and pleasingly complex minerality. It seemed very young, which assisted in making it an accessible delight for all to drink, but if you have a few bottles and are aroused by maturity it clearly had the harmony to age for a good number of years.

The next wine was one that Editor Daniel and I brought along as a curiosity with distinctly limited expectations as to its quality. I have long despised the wines of Hugel having tried so many of their abysmally made offerings that invariably fitted in at some point on a continuum between drearily anodyne and shockingly repulsive. The wine was “S” de Hugel 2001, a wine made from a blend of grapes grown on the top bunny Grand Cru Sporen. The authorities are a bit more permissive these days, but as far as Alsace’s labelling laws go Grand Cru names can only be used if the wine is made purely from one of the four designated ‘noble’ varieties. Even if a blended wine is only made from these varieties you’ll get a stern ticking off for claiming Grand Cru status. Consequently, Hugel’s Sporen Blend is labelled with only the cryptic “S” epithet – it is one of those wine-maker’s conceits that we are just supposed to know its exulted vineyard of origin. Most of the Alsace blends I have tried have been from Jean-Michel “Pretentious Nutcase” Deiss^[1] and given their abhorrent nature I was primed for the worst.

I was staggered to find that for possibly the first time in their 362 year history Hugel had made a wine which was not only drinkable but actually rather good and interesting. It was a bit cold to start with, yet immediately on pouring it showed a good fruity nose that was charged with an impressive creamy minerality. On the palate there was a good nervy tension between fruit, minerality and acid and was quite bursting with energy and freshness considering it was ten years old. As it warmed up and got more air it developed even more dimension and interest – properly complex, quite delightful and capable of further ageing. This is not an expensive wine and if you’d like to try something new from a producer you had rightly been avoiding until now then sticking a bottle of this in the cellar might be an amusing diversion.

Next up was a throbbingly enjoyable bottle of Chablis Premier Cru Fourchaume “Vignoble de Vaulorent” 2005 from Fevre. I’ve reported on this wine several times before (here most recently). This delivered all the exciting, vivacious, elegant class of previous bottles, deftly skirting the boundaries between Grand Cru profundity and Premier Cru finesse. It was so very harmonious – both a gloriously hedonistic and deeply intellectual tasting experience. The 2007 is certainly better than even this stellar entity of delight, but I feel absolutely safe in saying (with a definite glee-tinged tenor to my voice): “Brilliant!”

The other wine we had brought along was another I’ve tried before: 2001 Corton-Charlemange from Morey-Blanc. This bottle was quite as marvellously enjoyable as that one so I suggest you head back to that review if you want to know more about it.

It was red wine time, hooray! I’m slightly embarrassed to admit I have almost no tasting experience of the first producer we sampled, Louis Remy, even though he makes wine from some of my favourite vineyards. Richard popped a Clos de La Roche Grand Cru 1993. A lot of 1993 are still yet to reach drinkability: ‘tough’, ‘closed’ and ‘severe’ are words one associates with them with disconcerting frequency. This was blissfully removed from such awkwardness being giving, developed and pretty. It showed the unbeatable Morey tension between severity and charm very clearly and simply oozed delightful enjoyment value. I must try more from this producer, there was so much to enjoy with this bottle.

Sadly after this attractive number the red wine we had provided seemed a touch on the rigorous side. It was a 2001 Charmes-Chambertin Grand Cru from Domaine Arlaud. Cyprien Arlaud seems incapable of making a bad wine and I am a bit of a fan of the cool sophistication 2001 red Burgundies usually show, but whilst this seemed a stylish and well-constructed wine it just lacked a bit of charm after the Clos de Roche. Bumholes. That being said, when I come to pop my other bottle of this wine in five or ten years’ time I have not the slightest doubt it will be anything other than engorged with joyous pleasure and that it will charm the pants off those enlightened friends I share it with.

At this point Richard was clearly suffused with the merriment of the event as he suggested I go into his cellar and score a magnum of Burgundy with which to finish the evening. I was flattered to be entrusted with such a task and cock-a-hoop when I saw he had several magnums of 1999 Bonnes-Mares Grand Cru from Domaine Arlaud – we would not go wrong with one of them!

When we popped the bottle and I had my first sniff I was instantly bewitched. There was a powerful intensity to the fruit but what titillated my nasal cavities was its beautifully poised harmony – all its sophisticated elements were in perfect consonance with each other. It was certainly a very open and generously giving nose, not particularly mature but far from being closed or reticent. The palate was as open as Catherine the Great after satisfying her fifth horse in a row, but vastly more alluring than any number of even remarkably attractive horses. It was as supremely balanced, terrifically intricate and tremendously gratifying, and that is exactly what I want from my Burgundy. I was pleased as chips.

With several serious doses of several serious wines fortifying us, Daniel and I felt in top condition to for trekking across London to return to Elitistreview Towers. It was a completely corking first birthday party and we remain most grateful to our hosts for inviting us – perhaps the second birthday party could be of a similar idiom? We only get old once a year, after all…

1. ^[1] Deiss is a lunatic in a bad way (whereas I am a nutter in a worrying but ultimately charismatic way), he squanders the brilliant resources of his undoubtedly serious vineyards to make ponderous, over-blown, repellent confections totally lacking in harmony. If you decide to cellar them, having tried them young and found them to be detestable, you will find they develop into even more repulsive filth. ↩

It was certainly a delight to share a bottle of Port that was totally mature and showing impressively well. Now all the old wine team lads and lasses have dispersed across the globe one doesn’t get much chance to revel in the sharp-end of Port experiences all that often. That Fonseca 77 was brill.

Chateauneuf-du-Pape 1995, Château de Beaucastel

When at the right age, Beaucastel can be gloriously scented with titillating meat and herbal aromas – this is just getting into that zone. And yes, I cannot deny there is a suggestion here of the tonnes of sheep shit the Perrin brothers dump on their vineyards. That is ok, though, as when there is the brooding Mourvedre darkness coupled with the plummy fruit of Grenache and peppery spice of Syrah (and Christ knows what characters from the 10 other grape varieties included) the sheep shit seems a mere drop in the ocean of an intricate and compelling whole. It is great that at Beaucastel they don’t feel the need to make their wines from grapes so ripe they’d revolt a raisin producer, the alcohol level is just fine. I do like the texture of the tannins, which have some soft mature characters but enough rigour to keep everything lively and energetic. More of that good meat action to the mouth-feel as well, and a very satisfying savoury character. Getting into its stride but no rush at all to drink. Chateauneuf done properly: not 15.5% of alcohol-fuelled, palate-annihilating terror but richly structured and complexity suffused with abundant charm.

Cos d’Estournel 1988

Mr T and I used to drink this embarrassingly frequently thanks to Christ Church^[1] before we got old and spent, which probably accounts for my impressive identification ability when served this bottle blind. If you are obliged to drink Claret best that it has some elegance and refinement to it, which I think this does. It is a classically structured Bordeaux, robust tannins support ripe but definitely not jam-tastic fruit and its acid-level isn’t that of a stewed, soupy wine contrived from obscenely over-ripe grapes. Cedar-wood characters present, I fancy, which there should be with Claret in good health. Even given my virulent enmity toward Claret I cannot deny quite liking this, but it is really very far from an unchaste romp in a hayloft with a curvaceous consort in terms of the sort of pleasure I’d prefer my wine experiences to lavish upon my meriting palate.

Château Palmer 1964 – half bottle

Hooray! One of Edward’s risky purchases was a success! A soft, scented nose of mature fruit and plenty of earthy richness. OK, there is some dry dustiness to it, but I’m getting enough fun sniffing this to merit the few notes it was secured for. The palate is a bit dry as well, but more than enough soft plummy fruit to hold one’s interest. I’m also quite impressed by how this is lasting in the glass, it really isn’t falling apart in moments which is what I would expect from a half-bottle of Claret this old. Yeah, good. I suppose it’d be a statement of the bleeding obvious to say, “Drink up”.

Vintage Port 1977, Fonseca

Now Port is large-scale wine done properly and this is in super condition. The fruit is very ripe, round and stylish, but it is not buxom to the extent of having its complexity driven out of it by a misguided quest for massive vinous bouncers – indeed there is sophistication here in abundance. I love the contrast between its soft maturity and the thrilling fiery edge. The palate is really rather silky and beguiling for such a powerful wine from a structured vintage. Even though it has manifest scale I am drinking this with delightful ease and it is such a pleasure I’ll welcome the undoubted pounding head when I stir at four in the morning. A really top Port of definite class which is drinking superbly well now.

Many thanks for hosting us, Edward and Kathryn, it was great to see you both and finally get to meet Lydia. We also were rather taken with Casper the kitten. We’d be very happy if we could engineer seeing you all with less of a gap than the one before this trip (volcanoes permitting).

1. ^[1] Speaking of college cellars Mr T’s frequent and disgracefully affordable access to Figeac 85 and La Mission Haut-Brion 83 was nearly enough to make a Pinotophile prematurely bald with worries about the veracity of their aesthetic ideals. ↩