Roger Scruton has a delicious encounter with a long-legged, delicately scented Gewürztraminer
Whether your interests are gustatory, religious or botanical, there is surely no plant more interesting than the Vitis vinifera, the subspecies of vine that bears the only fruit that matters. Surviving in an astonishing variety of climates, growing from an equal variety of soils, demanding almost nothing by way of nourishment, and making do with whatever rain there is, the grapevine also has an unparalleled ability to hybridise, remaking itself to suit every soil, custom or appetite, with all the chameleon genius of a high-class courtesan.
If you doubt this, then take two of the characterful wines from Corney & Barrow's current New Statesman offer - the Gewürztraminer from Alsace, and the Cabernet Sauvignon from Chile - and place them in two neighbouring glasses either side of a human nose. It would be impossible for the owner of that nose, deprived of any other clues, to deduce that these were extracted from a single species of fruit. As different as pineapple from avocado, Oasis from Schoenberg, or Blair from Brown, these two violently aromatic wines tell competing stories of the earth and its history, and contain within their exuberant juices two entirely different incarnations of the same, multifaceted deity.
In the well-watered valleys of Alsace, Bacchus is a long-legged, highly polished and exquisitely perfumed girl, with firm flesh and a flow of come-hitherish tittle-tattle. On the dry hills of the Colchagua Valley, he is a strong-limbed, bony peasant, draped in a sweat-soaked muleskin and reeking of engine oil, artichokes and horse manure. Both these wines have been crafted, the one by the Domaine Trapet, the other by the Lurton brothers, so as to press the grape on the terroir, and the terroir on the grape.
For many people, the Traminer grape is one stage too far along the road to fruitiness. Like the Muscat, it suggests raisins and candy, cakes and jellies - hence the Gewürz (spice) that has been added to its name. On the other hand, the taste for this wine is not confined to Alsace: all over the Austro-Hungarian empire the Traminer grape was planted, in response to a culture that saw no deep conflict between wine and candy, and needed a glass in the afternoon, when the torte was cut.
Being of Ogden Nash's persuasion, that "Candy/Is dandy/ But liquor/Is quicker", we decided that the best use for this wine was as an aperitif, and we sipped it on the lawn, guns on our knees, as the magpies came in for the night. It is not easy to hit a magpie, and it took three glasses of Gewürztraminer before I managed it. But the wine was a perfect accompaniment, and the sweet note of birdsong in its flavour reminded me of the benefit that I conferred on the songbirds, in killing this ruthless enemy. Only one enemy is worse, and that - the domestic cat - will require a bottle of something stronger.
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.
