Food and Drink
Since It Must Be So ... he title of this piece is the literal T‘sayonara’, translation of the Japanese or ‘goodbye’. Of all the
possible ‘farewell’ quotes I thought it was the least cheesy. This is my final piece for the mag, but before I get metaphorically blown away by a collective sigh of relief from my long-suffering readers, I thought I’d share some thoughts with you, meandering hither and thither with no apparent point. Nothing new there, then.
by John Sherwin
go one better than you – so aim low and grungy and enjoy their confusion. Why are there no ‘bad’ vintages anymore? Two words: temperature control. Before the 1970s the temperature of fermentation was controlled by peasants in clogs either lighting fires under the vats to kick off fermentation or slapping cold cloths around them in an attempt to control it. This didn’t always work according to plan. When the Americans discovered computers in Area 51 in Nevada, temperature control became a cinch, with computer-controlled hot or cold water running through coils inside the vats as needs be. Below 21C fermentation won’t start; over 33C you kill the yeast and you’re left with expensive vinegar. Nothing to do with weather….. but ….
“ This is my final piece for the mag .....”
No such thing as a stupid question. I used to trot this out to wine tour clients and actually believed it, until, that is, I met John (no relation), a youngish American know-it-all who asked me if the vines were irrigated. Not a stupid question. The answer was and is ‘no’, it’s not allowed. You take the rough with the smooth weather-wise. He obviously didn’t believe me as he asked the same question at the first five vineyards we visited, getting the same reply. Then it becomes a stupid question. At the sixth stop, same again. The charming young lady said ‘no, we are not allowed to irrigate the vines… but we can piss on them’. He was a good, quiet boy thereafter. Wine snobs. Someone who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing. An American stockbroker in Burgundy (not a great title for a film, sorry, movie) told me he would only taste the grands crus. Not only impolite, but dumb. At any tasting you progress from the less good to the best, appreciating the differences along the way. An old Chinese guy (just to redress the Great Power balance) at a visit to Mouton Rothschild quavered that he had a collection of all their vintages since 1945. Couldn’t be arsed to do the tasting though because the vintage on offer was too young. Really? I mean, really? It’s all willy-waving. Complex. Your host reveals that ‘special bottle’. He pours. You swirl, sniff, sip. You …. hesitate a little, perhaps repeat the routine (not a bad move at all), then you smile and proclaim, with a knowing, collegiate glance at your host, ‘complex’. This means it’snot-bad-and-there’s-a-lot-going-on-I-can’t-describe. Apart from ‘red’, white’ and ‘rosé’, it’s the only word you need in the amateur tasting arena. Oh, not forgetting ‘rustic’, which is a polite word for ‘crap’. My favourite wine? A question I’m often asked. I keep it simple. It’s the wine my friends and I always ordered when we visited our favourite family restaurant in Macau. Grilled sardines, salad with red onions and olives, fries, lamb stew, boiled potatoes, and bottles (and bottles) of vinho verde from Casal Garcia. The simplest, light (9° alc) Portuguese white with a slight spritz. You had to be there at those times, with those people. Time, place, people: these should be your guide to defining your favourite wine. This is a favourite question of wine snobs whose sole aim is to 38 | The Deux-Sèvres Monthly, December 2021
Climate change. I don’t want to get into the big picture – world ‘leaders’ will have cocked up COP26 anyway by the time you read this – but address the effects of changing climate on grape growing and therefore wine. A higher average temperature will have a long-term impact on alcohol level, sugar, acid and tannins. It will, in a nutshell, change the very character of the wine of any given area. It may well be that even the celebrated vineyards of Burgundy and Bordeaux will have to rethink their grape varieties, changing to ones which can cope better with the heat. Wines from the southern Rhone are already regularly at 14° to 15°+ which is a level where alcohol masks anything else of interest. The pesky Champenois are ahead of the game, having bought up thousands of hectares in the southeast of England. The soil there is the same as in Champagne, and as the weather gradually aligns with that of northern France they will have perfect conditions for their three grape varieties, Pinot Noir, Pinot Meunier and Chardonnay. No one likes a mardy smartarse, but that Greta’s got a point. Wine and ‘exotic’ food. Wine makers would have you believe, of course they would, that there’s a wine for every dish. While this is true to a large extent for European cuisines, it doesn’t necessarily follow that everything you put in your mouth has to be accompanied by fermented grape juice. Two of my favourite cuisines – not just to irritate the French, though this is a good enough reason in itself – are Indian and Chinese. I realise I’m dealing in huge generalisations here, but I’ll crack on regardless. Indian food is not about heat, it’s about the infinite variety of spice. Wine could just about handle the basic combo of onion plus garlic-and-ginger paste (just), but add cumin, coriander, chili, turmeric, garam masala etc etc, and a splash of yoghurt, you’re going way off the wine-matching scale. Southern Indians drink warm water with their meals, and who are we to gainsay them? If you must, try a saké or fino sherry. Never lager unless you’re a big fan of unending hiccoughs. As for Chinese food, in all its kaleidoscopic guises, I advocate Chinese tea, i.e. warm
