Jordan Red

Mount Nebo is one of those Biblical places where religious history of a number of faiths comes together in a spectacular setting. But I am afraid this is not the Promised Land for wine-lovers, yet.

We were here because our Syrian holiday was put on hold by the forces of democracy sweeping across the region. Jordan was a beautiful, hospitable and fascinating alternative. Safe, comfortable and full of interest. Sadly, this wine was no miracle.

A little sour with an indeterminate flavour that was neither novel nor reassuring. Lebanon shows that even countries with small internal markets can produce excellence but it takes a lot of investment in wine-making skills.

At least it wasn't as sickly sweet as the Chardonnay/Sauvignon Blanc from the same company. 

So go to Jordan for the amazing archeology: the extraordinary city of rock tombs at Petra; Crusader and Muslim Castles, Roman Cities, Byzantine Churches, and Hellenistic Palaces. 

Go for the stunning landscapes from the desert to the Dead Sea, from the green hills of the north to the coral reefs of the Red Sea. 

Go for the cultural mix that included a Christian Easter as well as Islamic and Bedouin music for our delight.

Toast all these delights with some of the local plonk by all means, but perhaps have some water with your wine. 

Dramatic Rasteau

The Rhone is the spinal cord of western European history, linking the civilisations of the Med to the cold, grapeless North. Head south nowadays down the Route de Soleil that follows that river's course and turn left about 100 km before Marseilles and you'll find Rasteau.

It's not actually on the Rhone, but it's one of those wonderful places that make up the superior appelation of Cotes De Rhones Villages. 

I love the words Vacqueyras, Gigondas, Tricastin and Rasteau. I spent a wonderful evening once on a terrace outside a farmhouse in the Ardeche with a top Dutch theatre person supping these fruits of the south. Short, wrinkled, moustache. Great raconteur and lover of the wines of the southern Rhone.

Those sensuous names, when rolled around his gutteral Nederlandish mouth, sounded even more  dramatic and full of flavour.

And at their best, that's what these wines are like.

Very local. Full of the stones and herbs that make up that almost-Provence landscape.

This little number was a relatively modest bottle bought en primeur from the Wine Society that I've had in the coal cellar for five years. Hence, all the dust and cobwebs on the label. 

But it's a lovely drinkable red which given some time in the air, opens up nicely from a very concentrated, deep red, almost sharp, into something quite wonderfully sunny and relatively sweet. 

I dedicate this little blog to the memory of Ric Van Hulst.

Jugendstil Veltliner

This is a lovely Gruner Veltliner from Austria. It's not green at all. Instead it's a lovely thin golden colour.
Like most Veltliner it has a refreshing, sharp, dry but full taste. This one had a slight fizz to it as well.
I confess I chose it for the beautiful label. I adore that Jugendstil type-face and the charming folksy wood-cut illustration. Very Austrian.

Vin De Pays, Suisse

Swiss wine has appeared on this blog before, noting its quirky charm. But this refreshing little white vin de pays consumed on a Swiss Air flight back from Zurich after the Davos meeting proved that they can also do a very sensible and pleasing commercial blended tipple.

Taurasi: the taste of history

Taurasi is one of those little known Italian OCGs tucked away in the Campania region south of Rome. So it is a wine at the cross-roads of history. 

The Aglianico grape probably came from ancient Greece while the founding fathers of the main town were from imperial Rome. A Longobard castle shadows Taurasi which also saw the Allied forces sweep past in the Second World War.

The wine is a classy production that requires a minimum of three years maturation, one of which must be in wood.

This bottle from the Terredora producers has had a decade to reach what I think is near perfection for a moderate Taurasi. Imagine a Barolo heading towards a Montalcino Reserva.

The first taste can have a Burgundian edge but given time to open up it has wonderful flavours of dark red cherry.

Claret not blue

The weather's getting colder, the food is getting more substantial, and we're all getting into a more celebratory mood. In this season of snow, steak and Christmas trees, claret is the ideal wine. 

Claret is French, of course, but it has always been a favourite of the English, going right back to the happy times when we actually ran a large slice of the vineyard-packed south-west of France.

This Haut-Medoc from Chateau Tour Du Haut-Moulin has all the typical characteristics. Not a lot of fruit and the dry slightly mouldy tone may not be to everyone's taste. However, those spicy, woody aromas and the long, grape flavour works for me.

My claret-wearing football team may be bottom of the league this Christmas but after watching their hard-won draw at Blackburn I celebrated with few glasses of this Medoc. It's difficult not to feel things can only get better.

Go West!

When I think of Oregon I think of wagon trains about to tip off the west coast of America. But of course it's also host to some of the most sophisticated and pioneering new media folk in the world. So no surprise that this is a smooth, clever and rich wine.

I am a fan of Pinot Noir. Not to Sideways levels of fanaticism. But you will see from this blog that I enjoy its different manifestations according to climate and culture.

This one is velvety but with a lot of adjectives to follow: blackcurrant, warm, dry, full, deep but not too sweet. Perhaps not complex enough to be a classic but for a rounded and characterful drink. Well worth the wagon ride.