Striking Gold(water)

Found a bottle of Goldwater Cabernet/Merlot 1996 (from Waiheke Island off the coast of Auckland) murmuring on the rack earlier in the week and stood it up for tonight's rib-eye. It comes from a period where most Kiwi winemakers looking at Bordo styles were OTT with both oak and extraction, but I never found that with Goldwater (that may change under the new owners). This is the sort of wine that shows how well NZ can ape Bordeaux. It's fading now, three hours on from opening, and the acidity is poking out, but it's been in that smoky refreshing Cabernet zone, with the restrained cedary finesse, smoky black fruit and lazy tannic structure that could pass for claret - I'd have had is as something like a 1988 Haut-Medoc.

Also makes me think of how 50 years from now, perhaps the Kiwis will be better known for reds than whites. After all, this is a country initially dismissed as fit only for Muller-Thurgau. Then along came Sauvignon, then Pinot Noir. Syrah is currently hot in the Land of the Long White Cloud - Bilancia is a star - with the best wines having the herbal intensity of the Rhone with more bouncy fruit. Bordo blends have been around throughout these various fads, and have been improving steadily. Don't be surprised when their day comes...

Baffled By Bullshit

On the always-lively wine pages forum, a member recently asked a question that began 'I've been researching wine-tasting terms...' He then asked for opinions on this piece he'd done called 'How to Talk About Wine'.

Let's just take our wine hats off for a moment, stand back, and take a long, hard critical look at ourselves. Now let's rehash these phrases for other genres - 'I've been researching gardening terms' or 'How to Talk About Cinema.' Anyone ever seen articles on such topics? Yet many wine folk insist on using terms to which that the majority of normal people simply cannot relate. Palate. Complexity. Residual Sugar. Finish. Length. Attack. Balance. Terroir. Structure. Fruit-Driven. Etc

Does anyone talk about the complexity of a white truffle? The residual sugar in a ripe mango? The finish on a piece of Wagyu beef? No. If those of us whose job it is to get people enthusiastic about wine can't do it in standard lingo, then we deserve to be dismissed as wine snobs or wine buffs. This doesn't mean dumbing wine down, just introducing it to people in a manner that won't alienate them from the start.

Fill yer boots, correction, boobs...

The totally inspired USB wine tap may have been a work of fiction, but there's nothing make-believe about The Wine Rack. While purists may complain that it doesn't deliver wine at the correct serving temperature, it sounds perfect for Châteauneuf-du-Pap, Brabera d'Asti and of course Bristol Cream.

Bill Baker - RIP

A huge vacuum has been left by the death last weekend of wine merchant Bill Baker. A man who seemed to take Monsieur Creosote from The Meaning of Life as a role model, he packed more life, not to mention food and wine, into his 53 years than anyone else I've ever come across, and despite his larger-than-life, old-school appearance, had a palate that loved the classic yet was as keen and wide ranging as any. I feel privileged to have been one on second-names terms name terms with him - I was always Woods, never Simon - and will sorely miss his garumphing laugh, bizarrely long thumb nail and generously-given advice.

For those who never came across him, Jancis Robsinson's web site currently has the episode of Vintners Tales featuring the man.

Bordeaux, but not as we know it

Holy yum with sprinkles on the top. Apologies for my absence in recent days, but I've been regalvanised by a glass of Chateau Guiraud** 2005. No, not the sumptuous sweet wine from said establishment but the G de Guiraud Bordeaux Sec, available for £8 from Majestic, and more than worth every penny. Heady, rich, with more lemons in there than an X-Factor audition, this is wine to serve to those reared on New World wines who complain that they find European whites either lean and tart, or excessively bland and flabby. This is a wine that is stretching the waistband of its kecks, but by dint of its sherbet lemon intensity manages to get away with it. Lobsters are thin on the ground in Saddleworth, but this is the sort of kit I'd want to roll out with said beasties. In their absence, this is perfect fish and chip wine - hold the vinegar.

** was going to add in a link to their web site, but for English speakers, it's one of those that falls down as soon as you follow a few links - Google it if you want more info, but don't be surprised if it's not very useful.

Montepulciano's Revenge

The Woods family has been laid low for much of the last fortnight by various bugs that have caused problems at both ends of our personal plumbing systems. While I haven't had it as bad as Alex (aged 6), to be honest the thought of tasting the dozens of wines building up on the samples rack holds about as much appeal as a nail pie (when my mother used to catch me biting my nails, she'd say, 'If you like them so much, I'll make you a nail pie.' It used to - it still does - conjure up images of something akin to a miniature cheese and onion pie, and it soon put paid to my chomping).

But my experiences in the bathroom in recent times reminded me of an episode a few years ago in South Africa when...well you'll have to read on to find out more. This piece was never published - the editor of one wine magazine rejected it for being 'too scatological'. I could write that Pinot Noir smelt of horseshit, or Sauvignon Blanc of cat pee, but human bodily products were for some reason out of bounds. Anyway...

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The number of rules by which I run my life has recently increased by one. To 'Never eat at anywhere called Mom's' and 'Never play cards with anyone called Doc', I have added 'Never believe it when a South African says, "Just a light meal" '.

Trips abroad are probably the best part of a wine writer's life. No amount of books read or wines tasted can compare with actually visiting a region and seeing winemakers on their own turf. Tasting from dawn till dusk can be tiring, but the most tiring bit is all the eating. As well as working lunches, dinners and occasionally breakfasts, wine folk adhere to the Pooh Bear school of catering, in that there is invariably 'a little something' lurking behind the spittoon. It may just be a few crackers, or it may be a platter groaning under the weight of cooked meats and home-made Speck. But wine writers never learn. 'Just say "No" to cheese' should be our motto, but we are incapable of following this rule.

So anyway, South Africa. I was invited to be part of the South African Airways panel to pick the wines that would go on SAA flights for 2002, and I thought I might as well tack on a few days of winery visits before the tasting began. The task of organising these fell to the very efficient Andre Morgenthal of WOSA - Wines of South Africa. Andre's programme ran like clockwork but the writing was on the wall from the start. Straight from the airport on the Tuesday morning, Andre drove me down to Constantia where after 'freshening up' (shit, shave, shower, in other words), I went to the first meeting - in a restaurant.

The next few days are something of a blur of wines, meals and more meals, none of them small. I have in front of me the menu from an evening at the delightful Pontac Manor in Paarl (heated floors in the bathrooms - say hello to Stanley from me) with a group of Paarl Vintners. After a tasting of around 25 wines, we sat down for dinner - all six courses of it, including Truffelled Risotto and Lemon Grass-speared Springbok. Mercifully, the portions were actually of a sensible size, and when I'd finished my Baked Almond Crusted Chevin [a goat's cheese] served with Thyme Honey and Grilled Fruit, I didn't feel as Dumbo-like as on other occasions.

Things really got out of hand with The Michael Fridjhon Wine Experience. No, it's not a '60's soul review, but a two-day gastrofest organised by the eponymous Fridj and his sparky wife Janice. Ah, the silky Cheval Blanc 1985, ah, the supremely elegant 1986 Drouhin Marquis de Laguiche Montrachet, ah, the heady 1953 KWV Muscadel Jerepigo. But oh, the rich meals, and in particular aargh, the vast Sunday Brunch of literally dozens of different dishes washed down with nine different Champagnes.

It was after the 'Experience' that my digestive system joined my trousers in mutters of complaint, and these mutterings grew louder as we set into the SAA tasting. Strangely, the wines (150 on Day 1, 130 on Day 2) presented little problem, but as soon as food entered the equation, my digestive system said to any solid matter introduced - 'Reject.' I lost count of the number of times I sat there doing my Neville Chamberlain impersonation ('I have in my hand, a piece of paper etc.'). 'Same thing happened to me last year,' someone said to me at dinner one night. 'Took me a week before I could cough with confidence. Before that, well, every time, it was like a thousand angry sparrows fleeing the nest.' It was at that point that I turned dinner napkin-white and left, with directions of where I could find the strongest medicine in the Cape.

And thankfully it worked, so well in fact that I didn't have need of 'the facilities' until I returned to England three days later. But now I know what Andre and Co. were up too, and I'm being extra vigilant. Christmas is coming and I live in fear of waking up to see a hoard of South Africans descending on me with a large cleaver and an over-sized roll of Bacofoil...

Australia - the country that might not let a Jago buy...

Tesco's wine head honcho Dan Jago recently went Down Under to talk to the Winemakers' Federation of Australia, and found himself ruffling a few feathers. One of his comments was that "Wines with 13 or 14% alcohol just aren't exciting any more and customers are currently looking to the Old World for more refreshing wines. If you don't change, others will change faster."

How you unpack such a comment depends on what you read into it. Is Jago saying that there is nothing exciting or refreshing at such alcohol levels? I don't think so. But his point is that the reliable, fruity, easy drinking fruity wines for which Australia has developed a huge following can now be found in other countries. Moreover, wine drinkers who cut their teeth on such styles are now asking what's next? And since they feel they've 'done' Australia, then they're looking elsewhere for their wine kicks.

While Australia has plenty to offer higher up the scale, it currently doesn't have vast amounts of wine in significantly different styles at supermarket price levels with which to win back such people. Yet with drinkers in other countries still discovering Australian wine for the first time and being prepared to pay more than we stingy Brits, you have to wonder whether the Aussies need to be too concerned about a whinging Pom.

But as soon as winemakers start responding to criticism from major customers in the sort of language used in the Age piece by Bruce Tyrrell and Rick Burge, I get a bit worried. Such a head-in-the-sand, 'the customer is always wrong' approach is not what earned Australia its place in UK wine hearts. In fact, it's more reminiscent of views expressed by many across the Channel in France - and look what's happening to their wine sales...

USB Wine

Stuck for Christmas presents for the wine lover in your life? Then try this fantastic new product developed in France which is sure to revolutionise your wine drinking.



Why bother having a cellar when the great vintages of the world are all available at one click....

I know, I know, I know...

Had an e-mail from my mate, old boss and fellow Taste-In colleague Robert Joseph recently in response to this post. This is the man from whom I learned inordinate amounts, not least the art of missing publishers' deadlines with the maximum of grace, but since neither of us had much in the way of business acumen - great ideas, yes; business acumen, no - then our partnership was doomed to failure. Anyway, the response from Bobby Jo (as some will insist on calling him) was that while he agreed with me both on the packaging and on Oddbins shaky future, he thought that the Cachet wines did stack up as part of the riposte from France to outside competition.

And yes, I realise that France needs to re-establish itself in the eyes of many wine drinkers, especially those who have cut their wine teeth not on the Old World but on the New World. But... And here's where my Latin O Level for once proves useful. I usually approach unknown Australian Shirazes with a suspicion born of too many examples of over-manipulated wines, but The Red Sedan 2005 McLaren Vale Shiraz is going down a storm tonight, perhaps because of the absence of oak, which gives the iron-rich fruit flavours a chance to shine (and it's getting better as I type - I fear for the rest of the bottle).

Anyway, back on the subject, Latin. Correct me if I'm wrong but 'McLaren Vale' means 'farewell McLaren' - quite appropriate for this week. Just as England proved against Croatia on Wednesday that despite the quality of the players on the field, the up-tempo, end-to-end, hoof-it-up-the-field game has had its day, so it might be time for some of the movers and shakers of the south of France to move on from the desire to please the beginner's palate. In other words, they should be looking for life beyond ripeness, fresh fruit and, err, that's it, which is nice in the short term, but a long term yawn.

So sorry Robert, but Cachet is a long term yawn. If all it provides is simple fruit with the right varietal names on the label, then other countries do it cheaper and - vital - more reliably. While I hate the idea of French wine sales remaining in the doldrums, I'd rather they were revitalised by better wines than Cachet.

Getting bladdered....

In this news story from Australia, getting bladdered takes on a completely new meaning. Reminds me of the Hitch-hikers Guide to the Galaxy where someone says that an impending and not very pleasurable experience is 'like getting drunk'. What's the problem with that, asks someone else. 'You ask a glass of water...'

Wine & Spirit - How High Is Too High?

Just written a piece for Wine & Spirit about High Alcohol wines. I'll update this post when it's eventually published, but in the meantime, here are the wines I tasted for it.

SPAIN
Marquesa de la Cruz Garnacha 2006, Campo de Borja (14.5%)
Juan Gil Silver Label Monastrell Jumilla 2004 (14%)
Bodega Mustiguillo Finca Terrerazo 2005 (14.5%)
Macià Batle Binissalem Mallorca 2004 (14.5%)

FRANCE
La Bastide Saint Vincent Gigondas 2004 (14%)
Domaine Madeloc Collioure 2003 (15%)
Couly-Dutheil Chinon Clos de l’Olive 2005 (15%)

AUSTRALIA
Tullymore Vineyards Merlot 2003, Coonawarra (14%)
Sainsbury’s Taste the Difference Coonawarra Cabernet Sauvignon 2005, Katnook Estate (14.5%)
Jacob’s Creek Reserve Shiraz 2005, South Australia (14%)
Kirribilly Estate Shiraz 2004, Langhorne Creek (14.5%)
Jim Barry The Lodge Hill Shiraz 2005, Clare Valley (15%)
Leylines Shiraz 2004, South Australia (15%)

ARGENTINA
Lagarde Henry Cabernet Sauvignon 2003, Mendoza (14.5%)
Soluna Premium Malbec 2005, Mendoza (14%)
Soluna Premium Organic Malbec 2005, Mendoza (14%)

SOUTH AFRICA
Knockon Wood Reserve 2006, Western Cape (14.5%)
Cloof Lynchpin 2005, Darling (14.5%)

CHILE
De Martino Colluvia Syrah 2006, Choapa Valley (14.5%)

CALIFORNIA
Walker’s Pass Private Bin Reserve Zinfandel 2005, Santa Clara (14.5%)
Ravenswood Lodi Old Vine Zinfandel 2005 (14.5%)

ITALY
Morella Old Vine Primitivo 2003, Puglia (15%)

When is a region not a region?

Ah, regionality and wine, eh? Dontcha just love it? There's a story on Decanter's web site about how the Aussies are struggling with the problem of having a wine blended from different states. The current SE Australia designation only covers the states in the south and east, and means that any inclusion of Western Australian wine is limited to 15%. With WA currently being the one place destined to have a surfeit of grog in the next few years, unsurprisingly those out east are looking at ways of getting their hands on the precious stuff. But there is opposition from some who see the creation of a new designation called Greater Australia or Southern Australia as denying regionality. Get real guys. The whole point of the SE Aus appellation is to produce a cheap homogenous blended wine, so talking of any regional identity is pointless. Terroir? Schmerroir.

Don’t get me wrong, I'm a fully paid up member of the terroir club - where the grapes are grown has a definite impact on a wine’s flavour. But I'm also a realist. The main factor in the flavour of a wine is not terroir, it is human influence. The ways in which grapes are grown and wine is made outweigh the impact of terroir, and this is as much true in Australia as in France. Yet the Australians, or at least those in charge of the wine industry, seem hell-bent on pursuing regionality, even though most of the wines are marked more by winemaking than region. Further proof of this was provided by a tasting of Clare Valley wines last week. Yes, there were some great wines in which the character of the region shone through, but they were outnumbered by ones where the word ‘made’ appeared in my notes.

Look at it this way. Does Clarendon Hills have a following because it tastes of McLaren Vale or because it tastes of Clarendon Hills? Ditto for Henschke, Cullen, Brokenwood, Yarra Yering, Bannockburn and their respected regions. In an ideal world, all wine would be made by great producers in great regions. But it isn’t, so the question we have to answer is this - which would we rather have: a wine made by a so-so producer in a great region or one made by a great producer in a so-so region? Anyone who wouldn’t take the second option every time is deluding themselves.

Wayne, Women and Song

First time I've ever linked to The Sun, but couldn't resist this story about how Wayne Rooney was developing a taste for the grape. Judging by the line up for yesterday's game against Blackburn, he's not the only wino in Fergie's side...

Edwine Van der Sar
Rioja Ferdinand
Patrice Evramoira
Wes Cantenac-Brown
La Mancha Vidic
Anderson D'Oliveira
Owen Haagreaves
Cristiano Ron-Aldo Conterno
Rion Giggs
Carlos Jerez
Louis Saar

Kipper Wines

Not Kipper Tie, as in what Noddy Holder enjoys as liquid refreshment. No, here, I'm talking about those wines that you hardly ever drink at home, but instantly go for when you see them on a list. I can't remember ever cooking kippers in my current abode - I'm married to an anti-kipperite - but whenever I see them on a breakfast menu, I'm straight in there.

So, kipper wines.... For me, they're probably old wines. Not classic old wines, but humble bottles that you wouldn't normally think of ageing. So if I find a list that has old Beaujolais, Muscadet, Valpolicella, Alsace Pinot Gris, Cotes du Rhone and others of that ilk, I'll happily shell out for them. Sometimes they're past it, but a lot of the time they're surprisingly good, and attractively priced too.

However, I'd draw the line at having them with my breakfast kippers...

I Can't Believe It's Not Better

The line-up:-
Robert Joseph – founder of What Wine (which became Wine, Which became Wine International which became Wine & Spirit) and inventor of the International Wine Challenge (he’s also a former boss of mine).
Allan Cheesman – ex-Sainsbury’s guru largely responsible for beginning the supermarket wine revolution.
Neil Tully – a Master of Wine whose company Amphora now designs dozens of the best wine labels in the UK.
Lynne Whittaker – marketing wizard

Surely a dream team to be involved in the creation of a new wine brand. So why have they come up with something as poor as Cachet? I’ve just tasted the range of three vin de pays from southern France – Viog/Chard, a Pinot Rosé and a Shiraz/Cabernet – and they’re just not what French wine is about. Where's the passion, the edge of arrogance, the Gallic charm? The best thing that can be said about them is that they’re not sweet, but when you hear that they’ve been created with the UK consumer in mind, you have to shudder.

They’re from Castel, the French behemoth that owns Oddbins, and of course, the wines are now available in said store on a 6 for 5 promo. Castel may be introducing a little business efficiency to Oddbins, but if it means that stores get overwhelmed with wines like this and the equally dire Oddbins Selection, then bring back the days of bad balance sheets. My only hope (vain, I know) is that the people involved were paid not in cash but in Cachet. A month of drinking this tired trio (and of looking at the pedestrian labels) is what they deserve.

Knives in West 11

A Clash song, for those querying the title. Yes, 1977, the year when I made the fateful decision to study O Level Geography - why, oh why? Our teacher, unfortunately a distant relative, would tell us useful things like 'it rains most in the wet season'. He was one of those pople who was really a sports teacher but got drafted in to teach other subjects - I use the word 'teach' loosely. But the music made up for it. Fond memories of being a Part Time Punk and pogoing in the bedroom to too many bands to mention, including the aforementioned Clash, but the bittersweet Buzzcocks were also close to my heart.

In the world of wine, Europe had a pretty dismal vintage, except in Portugal, where many of the producers trotted out vintage ports that were initially considered to be among the finest of the 20th century. Hmmm. I've done reasonably extensive tastings a few times, and the most recent line-up this week only confirmed my suspicions that this isn't a great year. These are wines that for the most part are already ready (and in some instance past it), and which offer little of the passion I've found in great port.

Here goes...
Taylor - 2 off bottles
Fonseca - clean, supple, figgy, very mature, nice honest flavours but hardly complex
Croft - solid, spirity, has depth and fruit but again rather simple, has length but hints of bandage on finish - brett?
Delaforce - dense, gutsy fruit, still feel young and lively, spicy with potential to improve further. Close to best of the day.
Niepoort - sweetest so far, lots of juicy berry fruit feels young, promising but not huge complexity.
Niepoort Garrafeira (as above but taken out of wood early and stored in demi-johns, apparently) - solid, iron-rich tinges to buxom berry and herb flavours, hints of minerals, v tasty oddity.
Sandeman - feels rather dank (two bottles the same), fruit still alive but again sweet and too simple
Dow - gutsy, very solid, has lots of poke and grip, fragrant spicy finish. Star of the tasting
Warre - rather overblown, bretty, not very enjoyable, nor well balanced, sweet jammy finish.
Graham - lively, tangy, still lots of development ahead, juicy fig, slightly jammy berry, would like a little more complexity but this is still good kit
Gould Campbell - soft, tender, spicy style, plenty of fruit still, now at its peak, but no sign of fading. Surpisingly good
Quarles Harris - rich, sweet, simple but still with a spirity bite, lacks complexity but easy honest drink
Smith Woodhouse - juicy and fresh still, long and balanced, but again I expect more complexity of a supposedly great vintage.

Look on winesearcher for stockists. While the wines still haven't reached silly prices, there's better wine available for the money. Those looking for affordable mature vintage port for this Christmas should look at Marks & Spencer own label 1991 at just £22.99, a gently mature figgy delight - the corks reveal that it's from Morgan, a label from Croft.

Smoooooth....

It happened again last night. Was talking to someone after a wine tasting I'd done in conjunction with Taste-In and Spiral Cellars at the Smallbone Kitchens showroom in Harrogate. The wines had gone down pretty well, but afterwards, someone came and said that they hadn't like the two reds (Henschke's Henry's Seven and Cristia Chateauneuf) - 'I prefer something smoother.'

Smooth. It's a word that lots of people use when they're describing wines they like, and bully boy that I am, I aim to do all I can to eradicate it from their vinous vocabulary. Because when I think of smooth, I think of mustard coloured nylon rollneck sweaters. I think of grey plastic zip-up mens shoes. I think of Cliff Richard. Elevator muzak. Blue Stratos. You get the picture.

When I drink wine, I don't want a glass of Kenny G. I want something with a bit of personality, something with maybe a shady secret or two in its past, something your mother might tut at. So while I don't want wine that feels like a mouthful of barbed wire, I do like a little rough with my smooth.

Scoring, Scoff and Sweetcorn

If you've not come across Scoff, it's a food & wine e-newsletter that brings open-source thinking to the food & wine publishing world. So the contributors and the editors just do it for the love of sharing knowledge - makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. The latest edition contains a slightly toned-down version of a posting I did a couple of months ago about scoring wines. Since when, I've been toying with the addition of a new category called Sweetcorn Wines. You know when you eat sweetcorn, how, a few hours later when you're in the bathroom, you look in the loo and, well, I think you know what I mean. You wonder what was the point of actually putting it in your body in the first place - is it just a vehicle for eating lots of peppery butter? I'm yet to decide whether a sweetcorn wine should be one that you might just as well pour down the bog for all the good it has done to your body, or whether it's the sort of wine that tastes like it's already been through someone's personal plumbing. Any thoughts?

Ein Zwei Dry - the battle of the tastings

Like buses, innit? You wait ages for a post and then two come along in quick succession. Don't be surprised to see more of the ammo accumulated over the past several weeks of tasting in the next few days.

Two of the main events of the past fortnight have been generic tastings of wines from both Chile and South Africa. 'Generic' is one of those words that wine folk casually slip into sentences and assume that everyone else knows what they mean. Just asked my wife what she thought a generic tasting was - the silence was deafening... So for all you normal people, a generic tasting is simply one where all the wines are from the same place.

So yes, Chile and South Africa, both countries with enormous potential, rapidly improving wines, increasingly experienced winemakers and - cue several more condescending clichés... I wrote earlier today of how we wine writers are on the receiving end of some rather uninspiring literature from wine companies, but it has to be said that we produce considerable amounts of gumf ourselves.

Anyway, Chile and South Africa. A test of how good someone's wines are is whether you want to rush home and drink more of the same or head for something completely different. I remember going to New Zealand a decade or so ago. When I returned home, the wine I craved most was grungy, feral Rioja Gran Reserva - there's only so much wine nice-ness a man can take... On my first trips to both Chile and South Africa, I came back pining for other people's wines. Having visited both in the last couple of years, I'm pleased to say that's changed. Both make Sauvignon Blanc I want to drink, and have a rapidly growing arsenal of other trump cards, to mix a metaphor or two.

But it wasn't the wines that impressed me at this autumn's tastings - it was the hand-dryers in the loos. The SA bash was at Earl's Court, and those who went to spend a penny found themselves face to face with the XLERATOR. Underneath it's sculpted nozzle was the slogan 'Feel The Power'. Yeah, right, I thought, feel the....WHOOOSH. The skin on my hands actually rippled under the Xlerator's jet of hot air. Any drops of water were blown off in a wave of shock and awe, and if I'd held my hands under the beast for any longer, I'm sure the same would have happened to my fingernails.

The following week, Chile was turning on the heat. The Xlerator was a hard act to follow, but at the Business Design Centre in Islington, they have hand-dryers that were every bit as good in the form of the Dyson Airblade. Yes, Dyson, as in those coloured vacs that people seem to either love or loathe. Where the Xlerator pummelled you into dryness, the Airblade nuzzled with its gentle yet speedy caress. I was hooked. I drank loads of water just so I could visit the gents as many times as possible. Which is why I'm writing this from a rather cramped police cell where paper-towel rationing is in operation...

OK, so I made the last bit up. And I assure you I will not allow the quality of the 'facilities' to influence my critical faculties. But having sampled several red wines at both events, it was surprisingly easy to draw analogies between the hand-dryers and several of the wines. Too many South African reds still seem to follow the Xlerator approach, with brawn rather than brain being the order of the day (even if they don't make your hands ripple). Meanwhile the Chilean reds are quieter and don't come with slogans like 'Feel The Power', but achieve the purpose they've been made for with increasing efficiency and élan.

COMING SOON - A comparison of Australian and New Zealand Chardonnays based on the quality of the bog roll at the generic tastings. A head to head between Tough Tiger Toilet Tissue (smooth on the top, rough on the bottom) and Dainty Double Damask Derrière Dampers (lightly moist for pampered posteriors - those with piles, in other words...)

What women, sorry, wine writers want...

If posts have been scarce in the last couple of weeks, it's because September and October are the tasting season, during which every wine company and its dog seems to want to show of their wares. Attempting to get to three or four events a day is not uncommon, and this of course has its repercussions. If you're sensible, you stand up and spit (ah, whatever happened to The Members?) all day before returning to bed early and not too bloated in order to be up again the following day (and the day after) for more of the same. If you're NOT sensible, then you accept an invitation out for dinner/a BBQ/pisco frenzy or worse. When it comes to post-tasting drinks, the modus operandi is one is just right, two is too many, and three is not enough. Even seasoned wine writers can forget that pouring close to 200 wines into your mouth over the course of a few hours actually has an effect on your constitution. Suddenly what you had talked yourself into believing was going to be a low-key evening has turned into a marathon session. It's two in the morning and you are either on the table or under it. If you're lucky, your clothes are still with you. And you still have to be back at the spittoon in a few hours time.

This autumn, apart from a few fuzzy bits towards the end of a Cloudy Bay dinner, I've erred on the sensible side, but even so, the prospect of a few quiet days off the tasting floor are most welcome - OK, I'm a wine wimp. But today, I'm a wine wimp on a mission, and my target is wine companies who don't understand what wine writers want. I'm not the first person to mouth off on such a topic. Only today, I've seen this piece by Emile Joubert about the invitations and press releases that we're sent. It's positively mild-mannered compared with a major rant from Wine-X magazine, a publication which can/could (it's currently in a strange state of suspension) miss as often as it hits, but which is spot on in this instance. Max Allen also hits the nail on the head with this piece - should be required reading for anyone sending out samples.

While I'm very much in agreement with Max and the others on what they write, none of them touches on my current gripe. Information. I'm not talking here about show awards or cuttings from other publications, I'm talking about the sort of info that wine companies provide that they seem to genuinely think will be of benefit to us.

Not sure what I'm on about? Then let me give you an example from the recent (and otherwise excellent) Waitrose tasting. Torres San Medin Cabernet Sauvignon Rosé 2007 - '100% Cabernet Sauvignon from clay loam soils. Harvested at 10 tonnes/ha. 24 hours skin contact then pneumatic pressing. Fermented over 21 days in stainless steel at 18ºC. Bottled May 2007.' Or how about this for José Maria da Fonseca Periquita White 2006? ‘80% Moscatel de Sétubal, 20% Arinto from the sandy soils of the Sétubal peninsula. Vines up to 50 years old, with low density plantings. Grapes harvested in late Aug/early Sept at approx. 7 tonnes/ha. 12% of Moscatel is oak-fermented, the rest in stainless. Suitable for vegetarians and vegans. Alc 11.8%, TA 7,2 g/l, pH 3.04, RS 5.0 g/l.’ Now for wine anoraks (sorry Jamie), maybe such details might be useful in unravelling quite why a wine tastes the way it does. But among normal people, does anyone give a stuff about percentages and tonnes per hectare?

Good wine writing should make you thirsty; lists of stats just makes you want to turn the page. I'm not picking on Waitrose - their tasting pamphlet was just the closest to hand. But too often, when I ask companies for interesting info on a wine or its producer, this is the sort of tedia they send. I'd much rather hear that the winemaker used to manage the Bhundu Boys (Chapel Down's Owen Elias), why the vineyard has such an unusual name (look at Wooing Tree, for example) or that the winery pet is a 3-legged cat. Alas, Spook, Cloudy Bay's 3-legged feline, is no longer with us. But her name and deficiency in the limb department is often cited when I try to explain to gawping PRs and wine companies that I'm not especially interested as to whether the 2005 has 3% more Cabernet Sauvignon than the 2004 and would rather hear something a little more enthralling.

Can't sign off a blog on tasting notes without a gem from the recent Tesco press tasting. Relating to Tesco Finest* Beyers Truter Pinotage 2006. 'The Tesco Finest Pinotage is a block selected Pinotage: therefore certain blocks of Pinotage were selected for the purpose of making the Tesco Finest.' Quite...