1970s PRIVATE LIFE
9163 – Entertaining 3 – Wine
Of course, once my diabetes really hit in the 1990s, I virtually had given up wine. This was not because of the alcohol, but because of the sugar content. I could only take one or two glasses with a meal. But the main practical problem was, because I so rarely drank alcohol, it went to my head very quickly. The result is that I now get a hangover with just a couple of glasses of alcohol: which is not a good return on the investment. In the early days, though, I was bit of a wine buff -- though I rarely could afford it in those days.
The best wines, indeed almost the only ones, then were French or German. Occasionally I splashed out on some very good wine. The first time I did this was when Pat came out of hospital after her back operation in 1962. For Christmas then I laid on a bottle of Les Montrachets, the only premier-cru white burgundy. For company I also had, as the champagne, Krug Private Cuvee; which was unusually dry. I remember going to buy them from Fortnum & Mason's. The shop assistant brought them to me, cradling them as if they were young babies. He said, in a very reverential tone, "...you will enjoy this sir." It was almost worth the price for that alone.
I know that around that time we also had a bottle of Latour, which was a premier cru and a bottle of Chateau Rothschild. That didn't become a premier cru until later, but it was beautifully presented, with the bottle numbered and the list on the label showing those held in the baron’s own cellars and those by members of public - such as ourselves – ‘allowed the privilege’.
Some considerable time later when we were living in Knutsford, and were having my parents across for Christmas dinner, I decided to get a good dessert wine to finish the meal. I went into the local wine merchants and, as I crossed the threshold, my mind went blank. I knew it was famous white wine, but couldn't remember what it was called. I had this poor shop assistant turn the whole place upside down looking at every cheap liebfraumilch. In the end, just as I was about to go out, I remembered that the wine was the most celebrated, and most expensive, premier cru. It was Chateau d'Yquem. The shop assistant was taken aback, and said "We only have the 1946 vintage. It is very expensive”. “I'll take that "I said. Again it was worth the price just for the look on his face.
In the 1970's, when having our family meant we couldn't any longer afford premier crus, we moved on to the Rhone wines. In the particular we used to drink a red wine, Gigondas, which had a very distinctive flavour. It also had very distinctive purple colour. This led to my great coup at the local wine tasting club. One Christmas they set the challenge of recognising a wine, carefully wrapped up in the towel to hide the label. I correctly recognised not merely from what region it came, but what was the estate from which it came; and even what vintage it was. It was because it was the wine that we had been drinking all year, which I knew so well!
During that period I belonged to the wine appreciation society on Hurst Park estate. Called the ‘Grapevine’, it met once a month to taste a selection of wines. The wines for each meeting were chosen by one of the committee members, and I eventually joined the committee. A typical evening offered six wines, and everyone had a glass of wine each -- since we didn't stint on the wine - which meant they had a bottle overall. The committee members drank a bottle and a half. We started with the lesser wines and then built up to the best wines about the fourth offering. Thereafter, everyone thought the wines were even more wonderful -- but that was because they were already somewhat inebriated.
I organized two meetings myself. One was Spanish wines, which were not well known at that time. I brought back from Spain, where we been on holiday, enough of its champagne and best Riojas to cover all the members. As a result, it was well received. The next session was also well received, at the time, but hated the following morning. Thus it was an evening of aperitifs, but I didn't realize that I had mixed different bases; with gin, whisky, and brandy all mixed up together. Everyone enjoyed the unusual aperatifs, but had the most terrible hangovers the following morning.
Once more our more usual selections were the traditional wines of the time; coming from European, from places such as Italy and Spain and -- best of all -- French and German. This was before the new wine makers in Australia and New Zealand and South America came on stream. I have no expertise in these, but I still believe they lack some character. They are beautifully, technologically correct, and absolutely pure on the palette; but they don't have the richness the best premier crus have.
The best wine at the time was the Johannes Cabinet -- the best hock. When I was in the Rhine Valley with IBM, however, I and some of my friends went to the Mainz Hilton for a meal and I noticed it had a Johannes Cabinet on the wine list. I ordered it up and explained to everyone else how good it was. They too liked it. The sting in the tail, though, came when - the following morning - we drove down the Rhine and stopped off a little bar where we drank the local wine. It was quite refreshing, if rather slatey and not really very good on the palette. However, my companions thought it marvelous -- and were quite convinced it was better than the wine we had the night before!
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