Wine club - Roger Scruton finds a buxom red for his Stilton
Published 16 May 2005
Only in a young, buxom red will you find the match for a stringent Stilton
If you have difficulty swallowing the election result, you will find extensive relief in this month's wine club, which includes one of the smoothest and fruitiest of Corney & Barrow's Languedoc reds. It's a real work of art, judiciously composed from Carignan, Syrah, Grenache and Mourvedre, and a genuine bargain at £5.69 a bottle. Many things have stuck in the throat in recent months, but all of them, from the hunting "ban" to the European "constitution", were swilled away into the cloaca magna by this warm and generous potion, leaving clouds of delightful aroma in the air above. You could search among New World wines for many weeks without finding the match of this, either for price or for craftsmanship, and it will be drinkable next year, the year after and the year after that. So spend what you can on it, before the taxman cometh.
Equally impressive is the Anjou - a red from the Loire made from Cabernet Sauvignon rather than the Cabernet Franc that dominates the region. This is the kind of stalky, full-flavoured wine that demands a meal to show off its favours. The heretical English opinion holds that red wine goes perfectly with cheese. As a matter of fact, the acidity in cheese (other than the blandest Caerphilly) threatens the fruit in any fine old claret or Burgundy, and white wines fare no better. Only in a young, buxom wine such as this, which carries its generous flesh in a firm bra of tannin, will you find the match for a stringent Stilton, or a dry wad of crottin. We drank it with our local cheese - an unpasteurised, blue-veined ball of blatant contraband, which may one day prove the salvation of the farmer whose daughter has begun to make it.
Portuguese Vinho Verde is a light wine served young as an aperitif, its blandness offset by the sprightly bubbles that dance below the meniscus. Those who believe that such a wine cannot travel will be startled by this example from the Quinta do Ameal, made from the local Loureiro grape and still, after a year in the bottle, fizzing like a salamander in the glass. This wine brought to mind the clean lines and cheerful proportions of old Lisbon, rebuilt after the earthquake in the harmonious classical style.
Alas, the modern world is advancing on Lisbon in the shape of Norman Foster, who plans to shatter the city's skyline with a hideous tower of glass. This also stuck in our throat, and for all its merits, the Semillon/Sauvignon blend from western Australia did not wash the offending thought away. For this is a postmodern wine, nervous, ill at ease with old-fashioned people, to be served at the tables of the vandals who have declared war on our cities, constitutions, laws and customs, and who - I now recall - have just won another election.
Post this article to
We want to encourage people to comment on our content and to exchange views with other readers and hope this will be done on a courteous basis. However, if you encounter posts which are offensive please let us know by emailing comments@newstatesman.co.uk and we will take swift action where necessary.
