Emily gets meaty with Malbec

I am two weeks away from a wine trip to Argentina. Ten days of grapes and steaks. I’m excited, but to be perfectly honest, much more interested in the meat than the Malbec. For me, Argentinian Malbec proves problematic.  Mainly because the wine is so…so effortless – or seemingly so.  The wine it makes shows no sign of struggle on the eye, nose or palate. There is always this great intensity of colour.  Vivid, deep purples and ruby reds. And on the nose, powerful aromas of clean, ripe, brambly fruit. On the palate, firm tannins and robust fruit and spice flavours.

These wines have never known the drama of damp. Of rot settling into their skins.  Neither have they feared the disappearance of the sun with its heat and light.  From what I’ve heard, hailstones are as bad as it gets! Pop up a couple of nets and the situation is solved. No wonder these wines are so bright and bubbly – their childhood has been so rosy, high up on their high altitude slopes, away from any smut and smog.  They have no concept of what it’s like to grow up in Bordeaux, where three rivers meet and copper sulphate must be administered like calpol.  Or where frost threatens to crack your thin skin as in Cahors.

No. These reds are fresh and fun and intensely fruity. Pure and sweet – blackberries and black cherries, blueberries and sweet cinnamon spice. They are the cheerleaders of the wine world, bouncing about with their pink and purple fluffy pom-poms. They sing and they dance and they smile.  Can you picture the scene? The Argentine Malbecs on the side of the pitch, hopping about, with their firm tannins and perfectly pert acidity. Meanwhile up in the stands, stand the Metalheadz from Cahors – tough and unforgiving, leathery and well built, bereft of such soft, fluffy edges.  (I can’t help but imagine, a few rows back, some seats occupied by a gang of Goths – or rather German Riesling, personified – pale and interesting, with spiky hair and lean, listless limbs.)

So how does a grape cross the water and become a B.I.M.B.O??? Does Argentina just have it too good? The answer lies between me and Mendoza, watch this space…