The sommelier, Matt Sloane, on Autumn wines
SO, THERE you have it. Gone. Quicker than Michael Knight off on another lonely crusade, our petulant summer has finally stopped teasing us, put on its Burberry coat and flown the coop.
Good riddance, I say! Summer is a difficult time for a gentleman – linen cannot be worn to every occasion and there is little more unsightly than a well-fed aristocrat breaking a sweat all over his Ede and Ravenscroft three-piece as he marches off to the local gamblery to place a few guineas on the old nags.
Autumn, however, is a time for fond reflection, civilised tailoring and happy expectation for the forthcoming, winter revelry. This is also the time of year for enjoying excellent, British fare – grouse, venison, pigeon, pheasant – they’re all there, waiting for a smart bottle of liquid improvement.
I have ploughed my weary way through wine after wine in my quest for the greatest wines in the universe. I have tried some seriously brilliant swag, wines that beg of a man to soar like a naughty eagle like Dionysus of old. I believe I may have recently discovered a bottle that could be powerful enough to end wars and to redefine the very notions of civilisation. Ladies and Gentleman, the wine is appropriately named Gravity, and you’d best be sitting down.
The Winery of Good Hope is renowned for producing marvellous wine at different price brackets. The top brand from these charming chaps is Radford Dale. I’ve tried the range and have long been a fan of their excellent Merlot. The flagship wine, Gravity, takes the whole concept of the producer to alarmingly stunning levels.
A perfectly balanced blend of Shiraz, Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot and a cheeky dash of Viognier creates an almost pornographic, cosmic melee that needs to be tried to be believed, it’s like being trapped inside a chocolate mousse with all of Girls Aloud . . . and Kylie.
Winemaker, Edouard Labeye, deserves the South African equivalent of a knighthood for this stuff. It’s exceedingly limited, but, if you can track any down, get your hands on a case of the 2006 vintage, truly incredible. I’m going to pester Vinea on Albert Dock and Origin Wines to see if I can get enough in to see me through the winter. I plan on having it with roasted pheasant in a small, dark room, alone, with some Led Zeppelin.
I shall finish on a less pleasant note but it may prove to save your life, certainly if you dine under my stewardship. Occasionally corks get a bit dry, they have still performed an excellent task but, upon their merciful release, have left a bit of dusty debris in your gargling soup. The wine isn’t corked, it’s fine. Pick the bits out, your waiter will mark you down as a dining legend.
If a wine is actually corked, a fungus has had its wicked way with your hard-working bung and left the wine with a musty, acrid pong and the stuff should be rejected, immediately. Don’t worry, don’t be bashful, send it back. We want you to have a good time, and it means we get to pester our wine merchants about dodgy stock.