Pigments of your Imagination

A NEW WINE CLUB INVITES YOU TO BLEND SOME OF THE MOST CHERISHED GRAPES ON THE PLANET INTO A BARREL OF YOUR OWN

Words: Rob Crossan icking a sacred cow is, of course, immensely enjoyable. Op-ed journalists, amateur iconoclasts, spittle-flecked contrarians and Clapham omnibus frequenters would find little flesh to sustain them if they didn’t occasionally decide, whether through casual whim or collective peevishness, to clamp their incisors around the soft middle of any number of self-proclaimed cultural totems – from Tesla to Joe Rogan to The 1975.

Bordeaux wine, with its uppity lexicon of ‘growths’, ‘grand crus’ and Napoleonic-era classifications, has, then, always been ripe (pardon the pun) for being knocked down a viticulture or two. Indeed, where connotations are concerned, the cost of a bottle of Bordeaux is nothing compared to the images conjured by the noun itself: think ‘Bordeaux’, or, as we English still prefer to call it, ‘claret’, and images of wood panelling, gentlemen’s clubs, bow-ties, braces, Jaguar X-Types and a belief that fossil fuels and roast beef are an absolute necessity for survival, are never far away.

Like many people, I’ve spent my adult life believing that the Bordeaux party is a shindig to which I’ll never be invited. Increasingly, it’s also a party I’m not sure I’d attend even if I were. Bordeaux is just too clichéd, too pleased with itself, too likely to be mixed with Coca-Cola by a Chinese potentate or be placed in the fridge by a recentlyretired, heavily-tattooed AC Milan midfielder. Bordeaux is what is served on yachts in Monaco.

And, it seems, it’s not just me who thinks so. In recent years, more considered oenophile minds than mine have demonstrated a penchant for a spot of Bordeaux bashing. The chief criticism, of course, is the stratospheric price of even a half-decent vintage. There’s also a feeling that the dominant grapes – cabernet sauvignon and merlot – are out of fashion with the young and hip, and that Bordeaux, as a region, is lacking the kind of dynamic, forwardthinking marketing drive needed to expand its appeal to a younger generation.

Well, there is one group at least aiming to put Bordeaux back on the map: new private members’ wine club, Osiris. Depending on your tier of membership, Osiris provides access to some of the world’s leading vineyards – in California, Argentina, South Africa, Italy, and, yes, Bordeaux – where you can create your own blend, work on a custom-designed label, and have a barrel of your creation delivered to your home. You’ll also be invited to exclusive dinners, parties, tasting events and wine trips. Oh, and membership comes with access to a full-service lifestyle concierge, too.

Blending my own Bordeaux seemed as potentially hazardous, and possibly heretic, as being handed a marker pen and being told to ‘add what you want’ to an original Caravaggio. Yet Paul McSharry, the Irish-born, English-raised, Napa-Valley-based wine investor and founder of Osiris, ensured me that my terror of meddling with the terroir was exactly the sort of sentiment he hoped to challenge.

My attempts to create at least one drinkable glass of my own took place in one of the more open-minded vineyards of the region: Château Malartic-Lagravière. Once owned by the Comte de Malartic, admiral to the King of France in the mid18th century, the Château has been in the hands of the Bonnie family (who hail from Belgium) for the past 26 years.

The vineyard is in the region of Graves, where the British love affair with Bordeaux began. The oldest wine region in Bordeaux, the area’s reputation dates back to Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine, who developed a brisk trade that saw Britain export iron and coal to France, and, in return, France send ‘Graves claret’ back the other way.

Just like the Champagne region, individual vineyards in Bordeaux are usually diminutive in size. Malartic-Lagravière, for example, has just 47 acres under vine, producing wines with a blend of 50 per cent Cabernet Sauvignon, 25 per cent Merlot and 25 per cent Cabernet Franc. What makes Malartic particularly special, and makes its outgoing attitude even the more surprising, is the sheer, medal-laden weight of its wines.

Bordeaux wine is obsessed with classifications and Malartic-Lagravière was given its vital credentials in the 1955 Graves Classification, created a century after the original ‘best in class’ vineyards list was compiled on the instruction of Napoleon III. Today, Château Malartic-Lagravière is one of just six estates in the entirety of Bordeaux which is classified for both its white and red wines.

So, just how much damage could my own wanton wine-making skills reap onto the grapes? Sitting amid ranks of wine glasses in the Palladian-looking châteaux itself, I’m encouraged to taste, slurp and spit some of the vineyard’s finest reds before creating my own blend. For the neophyte like myself who generally sees reds as a headache-inducing mistake at the end of a long night out, these are epically discreet, elegant and well-balanced; the story of the gravelly soil, sunshine of yore, Atlantic winds and fecund vegetation evolving in the mouth with the graceful speed of the finest André Gide short story.

Plumping for a blend of 40 per cent Petit Verdot, 20 per cent Cabernet Franc and 40 per cent Cabernet Sauvignon, the waiting vigneron JeanJacques who, with his shoulder length blonde hair and muscular look, is the Axl Rose of Bordeaux, blended the grapes according to my measurements. Ten minutes later and after a lot of messing about with funnels and measuring jugs, he returned with a glass of ‘my’ creation.

Naturally enough, what I had created was a flabby, flat wine that had all the finesse of a Brent goose attempting a tightrope walk. Yet, as McSharry assured me, more time spent with the winemakers (plus a little more deferring to their suggestions I assume) could result in a barrel of Châteaux Crossan that might not shame what remains of my reputation.

Bordeaux bashing, in certain circles, will always be a popular pursuit. And while a game of word association is still unlikely to connect the region with ‘bargain’, for perhaps the first time since before Henry II, it’s now possible to create your very own Bordeaux without the means of a Plantagenet King. You just need to subscribe to a private members’ club called Osiris.

A case of six bottles of Château Malartic-Lagravière’s acclaimed 2015 Pessac-Léognan is currently available for approx. £200 from Berry Bros. & Rudd, bbr.com; osirisclub.com