Boundary between spring and summer
Spring into summer @ Chateau Boundary
The definition of the perfect summer’s day: the sun is shining, the birds are singing, there is a nice breeze and the lawnmower is broken.
Seasons and the pernickety weather rule our lives; our moods might be said to be largely governed by the hey nonny no sun, wind and rain. The warmer it is the more we tend to unwind and flourish; offices relax their dress codes, people often wear brighter clothes, we assume a sunny demeanour. The weather affects other areas of our lives. For example, late spring and early summer is a time of abundance with a range of wonderful fresh vegetables and salads coming into the shops and markets. Food looks enticing, everything has crunch and zest. It is natural that our drinking habits also change. We tend to prefer lighter, zingier, more thirst-quenching styles and seek wines to complement the food we are eating. Cometh the spring cometh the new season’s Sauvignon, aromatic and green, like fresh cut asparagus, cometh the pinks blinking into the unfamiliar bright sunlight with their promise of al fresco assignations, cometh the frivolous fizz to quicken our pulses, animate our chatter and make us silly and cheerful…
Most wines we buy are to be drunk in their youth. Flushed with fruit they burst from the glass – but youth’s a stuff twill not endure. The objective of the tasting at the Boundary was to propose that our moods determine how we taste and what we drink. The less analytical we are, the more likely we are to enjoy the wines for what they are, rather than what we would like them to aspire to.
We kicked off with a perry from southern Normandy. Perry doesn’t do justice to this pear champagne with its brilliant precision, fine beaded bubbles, lacy acidity and delicate alcohol (3.5%). From 350 year old pear trees planted on granitic soils this drink shows that lightness does not exclude minerality – there is a crisp crunch alongside the brilliant white flesh fruit. The Poire could top or tail a meal, being the perfect aperitif as well as skidding along with bloomy cheese in high fettle.
Malvasia Frizzante from Camillo Donati was particularly red in tooth and claw on the day making the yeast with two backs. My glass was gunkful of funky matter. Sometimes, when the wine is singing it bursts with meadow-blossom , honeydew, sweet citrus and all manner of exotic spices. Today, it was bleached hay and the fruit was like those dehydrated apricots you buy from health shops – you chew them vigorously trying to suck out the goodness.
Boisson Rouge is another Pet Nat (not a domesticated mosquito) made by Emile Heredia, who enjoins us to finish our allocation before the end of summer, (Never a problem). Made from very old Gamay vines it presents itself as particularly sweet – and yet the residual sugar is 11g/l. Low acidity and no tannin means that this is practically a blueberry smoothie, whose allure is its bonny purple colour and uncomplicated fruit gobbiness. Like Lambrusco this is a fizz to guzzle with slivers of ham, chunks of rillettes and sliced sausage.
At this juncture I sensed that the audience were craving a wine to bite and detain…
Familiarity may breed contempt – and children – but in a wine tasting it is comforting to have an old reliable to come to the aid of the party. Terras Gauda O Rosal invariably delivers the goods and this occasion was no exception. Someone had been at the lemon zester because this wine was so a-peeling. Beautiful citrus, grapefruit, passionfruit and mango sorbet flavours darted refreshingly across the tongue, so mouthwatering that it seemed profane that I didn’t have an oyster in one hand and a harpooned anchovy in the other.
From Spain’s answer to Riesling to Germany’s answer to Albarino, from the Atlantic to the Nahe, and Donnhoff’s wine of cool restraint. Donnhoff’s Rieslings are intellectual in a disarming way; there’s mineral stuffing in them, but they glide sinuously into your affections. The Trocken 09 was the classic stones and citrus churned in a cement mixer, the smoky finish elevating it to a different level.
Txac-oli, batman! A cheeky grin of a wine, a default glugger for thirsty folk who don’t want the encumbrance of massive flavour in their pink wines. And many of us don’t. Much rosé is heavy, sweet(ish) and confected whereas a translucent, light, crisp, dry style is more portable in the summer. The ethereal Ameztoi wines always taste like someone has bottled the sea spray from the cliffs overlooking the Bay of Biscay.
C’est le printemps (Dard et Ribo) would have to be the most apposite name for a wine at this time of year. Crozes may be red, but this one is dark violet, the essence of purple even, with gobs (as RP would say) of sweet fruit. The wine flatters to deceive on one level, the density of colour implying something richly apparelled, whereas in reality it is satin- smooth and juicy with whiffs of smoke and a smattering of white pepper. Nevertheless it is a delicious drink, albeit less ebullient than when I last tried it, when it left my head a smoking ruin of delight.
Fans of COS will be happy to hear that the Frappato was charm personified. Frappato is the other grape of Vittoria, but it gives Cerasuolos their wonderfully aromatic bouquet of candied cherry and raspberry cane. Tasted blind you might place this red either in the northern Rhone or Burgundy – its weight (12%), its aromatic profile (violets and red berries), its lack of tannin all suggest a cooler climate than a part of Sicily which is further south than the northernmost tip of Africa. Gawd bless terroir!