Tony's Diary

Hugh Johnson – one man and his bothy

noreply@blogger.com (Tony Laithwaite) — Fri, 08 Feb 2013 16:36:00 +0000

We enjoyed our last weekend at Saling Hall just before Christmas. Hugh and Judy's great Elizabethan house in Great Saling, Essex, was then about to be sold. It is now. No more country-house weekends for us in the most beautiful bit of Essex.

HJ had taken me down to his rather depleted cellar and Barbara and I had done our bit to reduce the number of bottles that will soon be up for auction. We'd had a last wander around the field that over the years, Hugh had transformed into a great arboretum. Memorable meals in front of the great fireplace. End of an era.

They bought this house for the price of a London semi back in the Sixties when Hugh's first book became an instant best seller. They raised their family there, but now it’s a bit big for two and remote from the grandchildren.

This past weekend we were reminded of that visit as we ate another memorable fireside meal; soup and sandwiches CAN be memorable. Once again, Hugh's fire was huge. But this time it was in his 'other' dwelling: a two room 'bothy' near Barmouth, North Wales.

No, Hugh is not downsizing quite this much. They are moving back to London. But this ruined bothy came with a small forest which the Johnsons 'adopted' about 30 years ago on the beautiful Barmouth estuary. Several times every year they do the long drive from Essex to tend their trees. Hugh has three great passions: Wine, Gardening and Trees. Has written sumptuous books on all. He has this incredible energy. Hard to keep up with.

The bothy has no water or electricity and even the fourth wall is quite recent. An old table and camping chairs. But there is that huge fireplace. Logs are of course not a problem. The day was sunny, the fire bright too, and the cauliflower soup and ham sandwiches did in fact make a truly memorable meal.

But I suppose it was HJ's genius choice of accompanying wine that clinched it: Sercial Madiera! You have to be the world's greatest wine author to feel you can serve a Sercial throughout a meal. Open-air eating in February is too big a challenge for normal table wine. After a morning in the forest something seriously substantial is good. I had thought I was the only person who much prefers the driest of Madieras – Sercial – to the sweetest – Malmsey – which is usually the popular choice.

And I do now understand how come we Brits drank so much more of this type of wine a hundred or so years ago. It is a form of central heating. Strong and sweet but with a stinging bite. Perfect for draughty stone houses after a day in the forest. Just glad I wasn't driving home.

We had a great weekend in Snowdonia where I hadn't been for 50 years. Back then I climbed all 14 peaks in a day! This time, fat old man, I just looked at them, glass in hand and wondered how on earth...

Working at Both Ends

noreply@blogger.com (Tony Laithwaite) — Wed, 30 Jan 2013 14:31:00 +0000

Our top vine stripper Lindsay, amongst the Chardonnay

Yesterday the rising sun lit up the stained glass of a big, church-like room beside Windsor Great Park, as fifteen of us – including Barbara – made plans for huge new initiatives and goals for our Company. All big stuff! But by the time the same day's light faded, Barbara was in her vineyard with Lindsay, racing to complete their three hours’ pruning goal whilst the light lasted.

I should have been helping strip the cuttings – I do, sometimes – but I had to write words about Red Heads. So I got to stay in the warm, scribbling.

But that's our working life, now. Between the big power management stuff … and the secateurs in the vineyard stuff. The rest of the family – our sons – all have the same sort of work split.

It’s good, I think, to keep the wellies on, both literally and metaphorically. That's 'staying grounded' isn't it?

Knackering, though.

So we are well into 2013 already. Challenging times! On the one hand, how to cope with the sudden return – after years of surplus – to wine shortages and price rises almost everywhere. The answer, we think, lies in much more searching in those remoter regions which we love, where the thundering herd does not go.

Also in 2013, how to cope with the Government? You may have seen our MD, Glenn's comments to the Daily Telegraph, Monday. Few maybe believed his calculation on how just how much our Company pays each year in various taxes, duties and levies. One hundred million pounds! Huh??? Just little us? It’s not credible is it? It’s insane. And we are not BP or Unilever … but just classified as a medium-sized business. Good Wine is being quietly milked to death in Britain.

Our answers to the ‘puritans-and-greed-problem’ are our moves abroad to where Governments are less greedy. No tax at all in Hong Kong. America is going well for us. And Australia. Germany has come on a lot. It isn't easy anywhere, but we have no option but to try. The Government could easily drain us to death any day now. Mind you, as we always say, we'd always have the consolation of a warehouse full of wine!

Barbara in her element

At the other end of the scale, in our vineyards, it’s too early to tell what the year will be like. But Barbara cannot help but remember she did all this work last year: countless hours of pruning , tying, lifting, weeding, trimming, treating, thinning and picking … and got precisely nothing for it … thanks to the cold and rain.

But there's nowhere she'd rather be than outside, fresh air, occasional sun, rain, snippity-snip and the Red Kites whistling above.

And there's no business we'd rather be in. So stop moaning, Laithwaite, and get on with it.

Cat gets to be the Cream

noreply@blogger.com (Tony Laithwaite) — Mon, 28 Jan 2013 10:21:00 +0000

When Cat first arrived at Laithwaite’s – as Kitten? – she was the lowly assistant with the cleaning-up jobs after the World's Finest Buying Team as they like to be known. Then she won the WSET award for 'Most Promising Newcomer' and blossomed.

Last night Jancis gave her the 'something something' … prize at a packed ceremony in the Guildhall, and all the wine trade was there to see. I reckon that prize – sorry, memory gets worse – amounts to over-all runner up in the Diplomas … and also the highest-placed Brit. Which bodes well for the lass from Bury and for Laithwaite's if we can hang on to this shooting star as she launches into her MW studies. Well done Cat, proud to have been there.

I took a photo of Cat and her proud Mum flanked by the most impressive flankers in the wine trade; the Cox twins. One represented New Zealand wines in the UK. The other the Wines of Chile. That one is also Master of the Vintners. So he must be the one wearing fur.

The WSET – Wine and Spirit Education Trust – is all about teaching wine. To people in the trade mostly, but in fact to anyone who is interested enough to turn up. Ian Harris, who runs it, has a mission to educate the world. He believes totally, totally passionately that the more everyone knows about wine the better the world will become. He has got tens, possibly hundreds of thousands in, I guess by now, every wine-friendly country there is, to sit his exams.

So the Laithwaite's contingent at the Awards was absolutely thrilled when our Len Sexon was declared THE Wine Educator of the Year. Truly no-one deserved it more. Unless it was Guy who works with Len – but Len's done it longer.

Len took on the role of our company Wine Teacher many years ago and attacked it with messianic zeal. Suddenly everyone was in his night classes with glasses. As we expanded our activities in other lands Len was right there every time, with the books and bottles. A 'Flying Wine Educator'.

Len is South African. He does not give up. They never do. So pretty much everyone passes. Or gets distinctions. Or wins prizes. Or else.

They gave him a huge Riedel decanter. I hope to be around when that monster gets put to work. A good night. Over which Jancis presided like a great queen; elegant, remote, unattainable, lonely? on her throne. To think, once, lovely young Jancis actually worked for me. Now, I'd be beaten back by large men if I so much as tried to touch the hem of her gown, so from the back row I must merely gaze. Bit like 'Roman Holiday' really.

Great place for a party that Guildhall. I wonder, Simon … you're a Vintner …?

Cinema Bar

noreply@blogger.com (Tony Laithwaite) — Fri, 25 Jan 2013 10:11:00 +0000

Our village runs a Cinema Club in the War Memorial Hall, Peppard Common. It gets us all together on winter nights and raises cash for the village school and such. Bring your own cushion.

When all is snowed up it’s particularly useful as most can walk it. Our fierce doctors are very insistent we do lots of walking in these parts. Pavement pounding seems their low-cost cure for most ailments.

And also we have our distinguished, Senior Retired GP running these films dos. So if you know what’s good for you, you do not bottle-out on account of a bit of snow.

This snowy week the hall was still almost full and it was 'Slumdog Millionaire' so of course the volunteer cooks had done a curry. Quite a mild one, luckily, so we could still taste the wines. Which are our jobs, of course.

I find the varied bunch of villagers we get very useful for doing a bit of product testing. They are keen to help. With the first glass free, thereafter £2 who wouldn't be? And tonight no-one's driving.

We set up when the ballet-school leave about 6.30; tables and a hundred chairs, cutlery and serviettes. Cleverer chaps fix up the sophisticated projection and sound we invested in. Steaming curry is stirred in the kitchen, but it’s the bar that gets besieged first.

Tonight I'm offering El Campeador, Tomahawk, Willy Willy, Don Cayetano Cab, Brigando and Patriots merlot on the red side. And Gooseberry Bush, Cittadella, White River, Yarrunga Field, Campanula and Full Fifteen Chardy on this freezing night's less-busy white side. The big ice bucket looks less tempting when you just skated across a much bigger one.

Notice that cleverly, I only ever bring screwcap bottles. So much easier and faster.

Tomahawk is clear winner on reds except for those who shy away from its high alcohol; they prefer Lisbon's favourite: Brigando. The sauvignons always do best on the whites, though I notice Chardonnay seems no longer taboo in South Oxfordshire. What goes round, comes round. 44 years, now, in this business, one begins to understand that tastes in wine change as much as hem lines.

Great film. We all say, second time we noticed so much more. Crams a lot in, that Danny Boyle.Every year the club is asked which films it wants to see. Democratic like. So nothing extreme. Frustrates the real film buffs maybe but they're all worth watching.

We love it. Even if, after, we have to wash up, put all the furniture away, and lug home the heavy kit … and rather a lot of empty wine bottles. But 'many hands, light work' and empty bottles are such a joy for a wine merchant.

Click here for tickets and info.

Bentham's Big Day

noreply@blogger.com (Tony Laithwaite) — Mon, 21 Jan 2013 10:34:00 +0000

This week we celebrated the 30 years of Ade Bentham being with Laithwaite's at a suitable supper room in town. I say 'supper room' probably because I usually come on a bit PG Wodehouse with Ade as we are both big fans. Ade had a cat called Baxter.

'Plum' Wodehouse was, of course exiled for his later years to Long Island on account of that unfortunate business in The War. But that we exiled cricket-loving Ade to Connecticut for misdemeanours is not true. But exile him we did. Luckily he loves it.

Ade came to us 30 years ago having exhausted all possible means of staying yet another year at St Andrews – he managed five or six. The next best thing to student life for him, as for many, seemed to be one of Laithwaite's shops, with their (back then, not now) very relaxed opening hours and generous staff wine tasting facilities.

No. 36 Goswell Arches, Windsor sadly does not have a Blue Plaque saying 'Laithwaite's Born Here' but then it never had much of anything really. Like no water, no toilet, even no electricity at first. Ade running with legs crossed to the Victoria Park Public Conveniences was a common sight.

But he did well, and his writing skills got him promoted to composing customer letters and brochures with me in warm offices with toilets. He did so well – fear of being returned to the Arch – he became my department boss. You'd think it risky to 'bin' words written by the owner of the business, but as editor, 'bin' them he bloody did.

It wasn't for this that we sent him to the USA but because a few years ago we had this wonderful, huge opportunity in America with The Wall Street Journal and such, which logically required our finest talents.

Ade went off with a few other leading lights to a task which would have daunted many. It daunted me; I certainly didn't volunteer. I've had more of my words escape the bin but had to work a good bit harder.

The USA, well-known as a graveyard for British businesses presuming to go there, has been (touch wood, fingers crossed) a Great Success for Adrian Bentham. He's been drawing in our transatlantic cousins to the joys of Laithwaite's Wine at an astonishing rate. The US will overtake the UK unless we watch out. (And we ARE watching out … upstart Bentham you are NOT going to overtake your old teacher).

But your old teacher was delighted to make a speech and cough up some '82 clarets as well as another book on cricket to comfort you in exile.

Thank you Ade. Good show, what!

PS. We just sent your brother to Australia. Well, if it worked once …

OK, 2013. Here we come!

noreply@blogger.com (Tony Laithwaite) — Mon, 14 Jan 2013 09:38:00 +0000

My lovely lot looked better than I've ever seen them last night. Black Tie does something for even the scruffiest chap in the Company. Which is, mmm, probably me. Justin Howard-Sneyd, MW though, turning-up in a wet suit? And flippers? Always likes to be different, Justin. MW's are like that.

Mostly, though I found myself talking to a very elegant crowd. One chap I didn't at first recognise. Then suddenly it dawned. It’s him who never wears anything but leather, chains, bandana and such (a programmer … of course). Now transformed. Civilised. HE won't scare me any more.

The Firm's Do this year looked like Drinks at the Embassy rather than our old-style thrash. Well, up to when B and I left, that is. What happened after 11, best we don't know.

But reader, they deserved a little treat. They had just delivered us a truly Amazing December … especially considering the UK economic gloom.

Our adorable customers deserve their treats too for playing their part bloody brilliantly … And we will organise plenty parties for them as well in 2013.

But my lot had to make it all work in those last bonkers weeks before Christmas. They did it SO well. Coped with the call deluge, broke record after record, but got it all out the door and delivered on time, didn't run out of anything … all whilst seeming to remain calm and charming.

Nobody has a better team than I do. Nobody.

Nobody has a better lot of customers either.

It’s extraordinary what we learn from them. Just heard about one who has all these top-level contacts in Shanghai. Really helping us so much as we struggle to find our way in a scary market over there. Just in chatting to his wine advisor. (She is rather lovely, actually).

Our sales calls sometimes seem to be about anything BUT wine ordering. They do say wine is really a social thing. Truly, it is.

And so, with gently throbbing heads we peer forward into 2013. A deep breath, couple of aspirins, and Hey Ho, into what's going to be an even harder year to win, isn't it?

Not going to get any easier here is it? Glad we have offices in the US, Oz, Germany etc, but it’s here where it’s hardest … and where it counts most.

But we have a plan. We are transforming our Company. Laithwaite's is mutating into Laithwaite's Mark II, as we call it.

What's that? Look I'd tell you if I could. But all sorts of people read this blog. Some do not wish us well. Competitors, we call them. Or worse.

We are going to beat them of course. But perhaps it would be better not to announce in advance just how we are going to do it.

The rate of change in what people think is the sort of business that never does change is quite … exhausting. But … must be done.

Yes, 2013 will be VERY INTERESTING.

Laithwaite's Chai au Quai

noreply@blogger.com (Tony Laithwaite) — Thu, 20 Dec 2012 17:09:00 +0000

The big tasting of all the new 2012's and the barrel matured 2011's. The wines WE have made.

So much more nerve-wracking than the usual tasting of wines submitted by others … where we can just pass on any wine we don't like.

These are our wines, we own them. Most are not finished. Many far from. But we always have this Xmas meeting/tasting to assess where we are. Any younger than this is very hard for me to judge a new wine properly. Jean-Marc, Mark, Aurelie, Henry and the other winemakers can do that. Hell, they can judge a wine when its still grapes! The rest of us – the writers and sellers – need it to be more or less formed to be able to judge.

Everything, I'm glad to say is very satisfactory so far.

My outstanding white was the 'Dry Sauternes' of 2011.

Wines that smell like they will taste sweet, but then don't, have always been a big obsession of mine. I adore their cleverness. Ours is a dry white Bordeaux made from Semillon grapes, a proportion of which had been affected by Botrytis Cinerea or 'Noble Rot' responsible for making Sauternes, Barsac and the others taste the way they do. Getting hold of such precious rare grapes is not at all easy. Getting the blend just right so you get all those rich, heady aromas and then finish with a crisp, refreshing dry white is incredibly hard. Successful ones are probably the rarest wines in Bordeaux.

Jean-Marc and Mark have been fussing all year over 'Tony's white'. I've been tasting it over the year too … and worrying. Even this Summer I couldn't discern the great flavours I was hoping for but the boys told me to be patient.

Today, the flavours were all there. The wine was finished. And had been bottled the previous day. Most will go to our Chai Keyholders, of course; it is only their regular backing that allows us to undertake making extraordinary wines like this. They will love this one.

Then there will be a hundred or so cases left over. Not much, really. So if you see some, I'd grab it. 'Le C du Chai'. Cuvée Noble. Bordeaux. 2011

My outstanding red was a secret wine called 'Hurricane' made by Mark Hoddy in the tiny garage cellar of his friend Jean-Charles in Maury High Street. To explain; I encouraged Mark to attempt this wine; what he calls 'the purest possible essence of Grenache'.

Mark & JC

It was the ancient schiste-grown Grenache vines of Maury that caused Jersey-born Mark to settle in the village after his years of working as a winemaker around the world. Here he saw the best unrealised potential he'd seen anywhere in the world. He adores this special Grenache with which he makes 'XV' and 'Vent de Folie' for Laithwaite's.

He's now spent a dozen or more years working out where the best vines are and how to get the best out of them. It seemed a good idea to encourage him to make his own wine - this is not a wine he made for us, but for himself. I suggested he pick the cream of the crop, the 'mother's milk' of those brave old vineyards and get creative. We would, I said, buy it, whatever. Don't tell anyone, I said. Just do it.

I imagined that, like Justin Howard-Sneyd our MW consultant who also has vines in Maury, and makes great wine, Mark would be making a barrel-aged wine. Not at all. Mark says his aim was to make a wine just as big, dense and complex … but he didn't want to lose any of that grape's luscious, bright fruit character. So no barrels, no ageing either. And he used other methods to ensure minimal contact with oxygen. I haven't really found the words to describe 'pure essence of Grenache'. But give me time!

None of the other 2012 reds we tried were ready to drink. The Hurricane we finished off over lunch before we caught the plane … and it was just as enjoyable as the €54 bottle of AOC Castillon '08 we had.

His price isn't quite worked out yet but Mark thinks his wine will be about a fifth of that.Unbelievable? No, true. Only problem is Mark couldn't make much. There are few vineyards that can supply the quality grapes required and also this is very much a hand-made wine.

As I finished my last glass more and different red and black fruits seemed to be arriving in my glass. Mark reckons there are a lot more to come. He'll bottle it soon, (hasn't come up with a label yet) leave the bottles to rest a little and we'll have it in our June list.

If you want to register your interest in Hurricane - or Le C du Chai white call the Wine Advisors. They'll note your interest and call you as soon as the wine(s) arrive in Gloucester cellars.

I've had blogger's block

noreply@blogger.com (Tony Laithwaite) — Thu, 13 Dec 2012 12:21:00 +0000

I've had blogger's block, clearly. But now, getting complaints about this bloglessness, I just must try. Having complaints is encouraging, really. Someone's actually noticed! I was missed!

Thing is, nothing really significant has happened to me recently.

Or has it?

Since I coughed myself unconscious and fell head-first into a concrete floor (not good … not at all pretty) I'm not sure I am not sure my head is working. I said that twice, didn't I? So clearly there IS a problem.

Something interesting must have happened in the weeks since. Maybe lots of things.

(Thinks)

(Still thinking)

Err … we had a good Laithwaites Live at the London Bridge Arch. But that was before the head incident. I remember managing to taste every lovely wine at the show – something I haven't managed in years. Though I did then have another 'lost-looking-for-hotel-incident' afterwards. Like in Turkey. Walked right round the Shard. It’s really big, that thing.

I remember I did the final two competitive shop tastings at Surbiton and Virginia Water. And lost on both occasions! VW was a ghastly whitewash! My shop managers are clearly getting above themselves. They have forgotten it is usually good, career-wise, to let the Chairman win. But then, their customers love them so much they vote for anything they pour; they have the big home crowd advantage. I always have to play away. Will have to rig next year's. If I pour Lafite, Petrus, Cloudy Bay, Montrachet and Yquem, they should win for me.

Apart from those events I have just been writing and worrying. I think.

I'm writing stuff for April now which is also a bit disorientating. Print deadlines are sooo long! Blogging is much more fun, being instant and all.

And I always worry this time of year. Is Christmas going to happen? Christmas sales are so vital. Every year people order later. Understandably in the UK's economic freeze-up. But its v worrying. How can I write jolly chatty stuff when I'm just petrified everyone will forget to order? Or the snow will cut off swathes of the UK. Or … Anything and everything … I just worry.

Well that's over now. They came later than ever but sales, lovely sales have come and Theale office and Gloucester Cellars are humming and smiling and actually now just ahead of our forecasts. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Customers, if you were here I'd bow right down and put your foot on top of my head like Man Friday did to Crusoe. My bruised and maybe cracked head, that is, too.

Jean-Marc and Justin have arranged a tasting roundup of the 2012 vintage at the Chai, next week. So I'll blog from Bordeaux next about that and Christmas in Castillon.

I'm sorry to have not blogged or even tweeted for so long. I'll be sure not to go silent so long ever again.

Izmir, Turkey

noreply@blogger.com (Tony Laithwaite) — Fri, 16 Nov 2012 16:10:00 +0000

I'd never been to Turkey before. Knew next door Bulgaria very well, once – and Greece – but Turkey didn't seem to have a lot to offer. Winewise. But as we found last year with Vinart Kalecik Karasi Syrah ... it has now.

So last week, with Justin MW and Beth, I flew to Istanbul and then down to Izmir and its vineyards on the west coast.

There was a great opportunity there. In the past we would have to do our own research. But a large group of wine fanatics – or 'bloggers' as they prefer – were assembling in Izmir to have a long, hard detailed look at Turkish wine in 2012. A 'Digital Wine Communications Conference'.

Too good to miss. A great assembly, and much concentrated brainpower. Chance for us to get clued up quickly.

Some very impressive people.

E.g. Joel Butler MW, from California. Has spent months checking out every wine region in this vast country. Learnt all the grape varieties. Publishing a book. 'Divine Vintage'. 1,200 Indigenous Turkish grape varieties, I think he said he'd found. (I still find it hard to listen, drink and write at the same time). Can you imagine that? 1,200 just about doubles what I thought we had in the world.

Must get that book. And Jancis' new book on grapes.

Mount Ararat was his start point. Where Noah planted a vineyard and started the whole thing. Or if you prefer more secular archeological evidence, it was the Hittites. They probably had the first winery, just uncovered, 8000 years old. No bottles left, sadly.

An early example of wine marketing

Hittites came up with the first NAME for wine, which got modified by Greeks then Romans to ...'Vino'! They made lots of wines here in Ancient times. But modern Turkey, although still a secular state, is mostly a Muslim country. Vines still grow all over, but instead of making much wine, they eat a lot of grapes. The country is still fifth in the world for grapes, but only just beginning to show on the charts for wine.

Vineyards today are still roughly where they were thousands of years ago. They still 'layer' their vines here. Means when one gets old they bend down a branch and bury it. It then grows a new stem. This means that vines – as long as they don't catch a disease – never really die. Could there be thousand year old plants here? 2000? 8000? Interesting thought.

There are about 100 wine producers. There was just one in the seventies when I gave it a try. 'Buzbag'. Made by the State Winery. National Wine! It’s been privatised now so it’s better.

A fair few of the hundred were at the show which was handy. We set to work. There is no formal AOC system but there are several distinct regions from the far east near the Euphrates to the west coast. From Thrace in the north to the Syrian border (best avoided, just now).

We tried The Big Six indigenous varieties;

Emir is a white grape. We tried one; a simple fruit white with bitter finish. From alien planet-looking vineyards with weird, Trulli-like vineyard huts in Cappadocia. Many Cappadocia vines grown ungrafted; on their own roots – it’s so sandy and cold the phylloxera bug can't live there. We also tried the Yapincak grape from the Thracian shore of the Sea of Marmora. We liked the 'Narice' white grape grown on the Red River near the Black Sea. Its all colour coded here!

In reds we liked the Kalecik Karazi; a Pinot noir-like grape with spice. Light coloured wine.

Kalecik Karazi Reserve by Vinkara was a really nice spicy burgundy- type, oaked style; soft. The Okuzgozu seems a juicy, red zinfandel-type grown in Eastern Anatolia near the Euphrates.

Best of all though was Bogazkere.

You can see where we'll have problems selling these wines, especially this one; "Waiter, bring your finest Bogazkere!" Mmm. We'll have to work on those names. Its pronunciation isn't bad: 'boy az keray'. We certainly can't mention it means 'throat burner'. It’s a nice burn anyway.

I met this last wine at the event's bring a bottle party. The girl was a dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty. I drank whatever she gave me. Maybe too much. Only half a mile back to the hotel. Took me an hour. The girl had left me of course, but I remember I acquired this four-legged friend. She either took pity on me or thought I might be good to eat when I finally collapsed.

Lovely girl. Knew the streets well. Such sad eyes. But they wouldn't let her in the hotel.

"It’s not over until the Gros Mansengs"

noreply@blogger.com (Tony Laithwaite) — Fri, 02 Nov 2012 16:25:00 +0000

It was a l-o-o-o-ng tasting yesterday. Early evening. When your palate is tired. And you begin to forget to spit. So things like the above groan-worthy, wine-buff-type quip can actually seem funny.

But it was done seriously 'blind' with all the usual visual clues – corks, capsules, etc always used by the unscrupulous wine cheats – painstakingly removed.

Nick had chosen carefully to bamboozle us. And he succeeded. But then most of us had coughs and colds which is always a useful excuse.

The big winners were Tomahawk Shiraz from Red Heads and the Newton Johnson Chardonnay from South Africa, which most thought was a very expensive Burgundy.

Newton Johnson is a young family's brand-new winery just inland from Hermanus, RSA. It has hanging fermenters and a lovely little terrace cafe with a spectacular view. The viticulturalist is also extremely pretty.

I remember Hugh Johnson absolutely insisting on having this wine in his first Collection case. So I'm surprised we still have any left. But we do; and I would grab some were I you.

I was surprised – astonished – at how Tomahawk came out ahead of wines like a £30+ 2009 Classified claret. But there you go. That's wine for you. Always does the unexpected. Tomahawk's simple, rather unserious label gives no indication of the quality within. It’s Nat McMurtrie's fruit that does it. Come to think of it looking at Nat - in that hat - doesn't really convey the quality within either.

But the wonderful Nat – with his mate Philbo – has just left our place in Bordeaux and flown home to Oz. They've been the stalwarts of our 2012 Vintage Volunteers. You are Great Mates, real thanks.

I've been in the UK writing madly all week. It’s all coming your way! The next catalogue is Huge. And I'm compiling a big new List as well, now. Something we've not done for while. We have nearly 2000 wines and I'm determined customers should see more of them. Currently we are like the Tate; most of our wines are stored away and never displayed. Crazy.

Went to see Darren Henley at Classic FM. Got the tour. Very snazzy studios in Leicester Square. Missed meeting Simon Callow. But I love his Sunday 'Tasting Notes'. I hope we can evolve the format. Maybe get Simon to Le Chai au Quai. The Chai actually does have a piano recital there this weekend. Concertos in the Cask Hall! The wines will love it.

Darren took us to the Ivy. We like our food, he and I.

Tomorrow going to Hampstead Heath to look in on the Affordable Art Fair. Culture! But also those art-lovers seem to be getting through inordinate amounts of our wine. I want to see this.

Wine and Art. And Wine and Music, Wine and Books. Wine and Cricket. You begin to see the clever way our young M.D. Glenn is shaping things. All to do with just enjoying life. He's got that right. We all have to work at that.

Wyfold Harvest

noreply@blogger.com (Tony Laithwaite) — Mon, 29 Oct 2012 11:07:00 +0000

Fighting the English weather … to the bitter end. Barbara's vineyard is, crucially, a bit higher than Henry and Kaye's or Theale Vineyard. She and Cherry planted at 300 feet in the Chilterns which doesn't sound high but nonetheless shortens the growing season by two weeks.

Wyfold vineyard looked immaculate this year. The best it’s ever looked … in Spring. Then, well, the weather started. That Jubilee weather held back the flowering by a month or so. Then carried on being vile so the grapes got so little sun they couldn't grow.

So last week we had only mini bunches of grapes to pick. They were healthy, though. They'd been well-tended. Leaves had been stripped back to leave the tiny bunches exposed to whatever sun and dry air there was. (Not a lot). They just hung there. And we hung our hopes on a last-minute burst of Indian Summer sunny weather, such as has saved a few harvests lately. But no such luck.

Barbara never gave up. She never does. Kept going back to Wyfold, trimming and dropping the most under-ripe, hopeless bunches.

Then a little Botrytis was seen. Tiny bit of rot. The odd grape going furry. But with the very moist warmish weather, that could explode all over. So they had to pick. Thursday. Nine till five we picked. It was a weekday. Only a few could help. And perversely such a tiny crop is fiddly and slower to pick.

The black grapes were over the minimum sugar level. Just. But so few of them. 20 boxes. The bigger crop of Chardonnay was under the level on average, but some bunches were riper than others.

If we only picked the ripe ones? We tried. We really did. Problem is, with white grapes it’s hard to tell just by looking. You can tell by biting a grape, but after a while you feel ill. The best way, we found, was to squeeze every bunch. Sqidgy? Pick. Hard? Discard. Got quite good a grape-groping.

The net result was just half a tonne. Enough to fill our small trailer. Lee took them off down to our winemaker Mike Roberts at Ridgeview in Sussex. He and Barbara have a mutual admiration thing going; we knew if he could work a miracle he would …

Alas, we have just heard it was not to be. No miracle for Wyfold in 2012. Theale, yes. Henry and Kaye's as yet unnamed Marlow vineyard, yes. Windsor, won't get any grapes 'til next year. Wyfold, no. Didn't make it.

Annus Horribilis for English wine? Well, yes. But far from a total wipeout. You hang on in there and sometimes you can make it. But sometimes you can't, quite.

Farming was ever thus.

Still, we can console ourselves with a bottle of the lovely 2009. That vintage just gets better.

The night before harvesting I'd done an evening with customers at our Locksbottom shop – near Orpington. We asked customers to vote on whether they preferred the Wyfold or the superb Paul Goerg Champagne; a Premier Cru. The champagne won. But only by 2 votes. If anyone still has doubts about English sparkling wine's ability to rival world class fizz … they are probably French.

Marlow's first English vintage

noreply@blogger.com (Tony Laithwaite) — Tue, 23 Oct 2012 10:38:00 +0000

What fool says 2012 English Sparkling is a write off?

At Henry and Kaye's first vintage this w/e, their Pump Lane vineyard at Marlow, produced its first crop. And it was rather impressive, considering the foul weather of the Summer and Autumn. If Pump Lane (nobody knows where that name came from) can produce two healthy tonnes on baby vines not yet trained to the wire, what might it do in a season with some actual sunshine?

The good result was, I think, largely due to the intensive – well, maybe fanatical – attention that small-scale family wine growers give to the vineyards they so love. Like small children, vineyards have to be watched constantly. You daren't take your eye off your darlings for a minute or they're falling over or coming down with botrytis or something. In just hours, all may be lost.

Big corporate wine producers, I suppose, find it hard to achieve such levels of obsessive motivation across all their widespread holdings. Which is why, presumably they decide to 'pull out' of difficult vintages.

Fair enough.

But for them to do it in such a way as to imply that if they – big, wonderful they – cannot produce a decent wine this year then nobody can? Well, it makes them … bloody unpopular.

Some very good sparkling wine will be made this vintage. Not a lot. But then quality and quantity rarely come together in our line of work.

It was a misty start, just like most mornings in Bordeaux. Barbara and I set up the tents and tables with secateurs, gloves, baskets and lunch … for later. Henry laid out grape samples; "these you pick; these you leave". Kaye couldn't wait for the others and skipped off with cries of joy, to pick her real own grapes … at last! Three-year wait over!

The wet clay soil though made it heavy going for the rest of us. Just like at Ascot. No Frankel's here.Told to start with the Pinot Meunier then move on to the Pinot Noir. About two hectares’ worth. Quite a lot for a small team of friends and family.

Henry fairly cracks the whip too. Hadn't seen my cousin Isobel in ages but "never mind the chatting, get picking!" From as far away as Cheltenham and Sheffield they came. And broke their backs. Real friends do that.

"Just till lunch" was what we were told. Nearly 4, it was. But then, in a year like this you don't want to leave a single grape … and that makes for very fiddly picking.

Home to hit the Radox.

Out again Sunday early. God, it hurt. But maybe because the bug that has laid low most of our Bordeaux team at some time finally got me too. I am ashamed to admit I left the field at half-time. Got in the car and fell fast asleep.

But was woken to see the final result: all those baskets of lovely Chardonnay.

Like yesterday's they were all then rushed down to Sussex. (Not ideal, but if you haven't built your winery yet …) Mike Roberts down at Ridgeview seemed happy with the quality of H and K's black grape juice, we hope the white does as well.

We'd picked everything in the dry but as we packed up to go, the rain started again. Spare a thought – and a prayer – for Barbara. Her harvest is next weekend. Which, looking at the weather, seems an eternity.

Bordeaux Harvest - my final day's picking

noreply@blogger.com (Tony Laithwaite) — Fri, 19 Oct 2012 09:22:00 +0000

Harvesters at Ch. du Bois

My final day's picking was a good one. The sun shone which always helps. Dries out the mud a bit. The views lift you through the work. Actually feeling great now. Body's got used to straining … the bending, kneeling, squatting, twisting and lifting. And that’s just the getting dressed. (The joys of being 66).

An Olympic helper's next volunteering gig

The day off helped. I feel I could go on for weeks now. The first evening I couldn't see me lasting another day, let alone week. I wish my normal job was more physical, I'd be a lot healthier.

No, not caviar, but the last of the Merlot safely in the vat

I don't want to go home. But needs must. Wine has to be sold. I just manage to see the last of the Merlot brought in during the afternoon. That's the bulk of our wine safe. The later-ripening Cabernets still to come. Fingers crossed.

Young, vigorous vines did well, this year

I will be back in November to taste how we did in 2012. Not an easy vintage at all. But I'm optimistic. We seem to do best what the conditions are against us.

Not all our Presbytere vines survive. Like people, few make it to 100

But for now it's scrape off the mud and sticky grape sugar and try look decent enough to be allowed on an aeroplane.

I'm very privileged to be able to have my harvests and my vineyards and the life that goes on around them. But I do at least try to share them. And we have plans to get much better at doing that.

Alfie the winedog in the village 'lavoir'

They've been sending me recordings of the radio adverts we are about to start doing on Classic FM. Sunday Afternoons. A wine and music show with Simon Callow. 'Tasting Notes'. Whatever next?

Lots more writing to do.

My dynamic young team like to keep the old guy busy.

Bordeaux Harvest - a day off

noreply@blogger.com (Tony Laithwaite) — Wed, 17 Oct 2012 15:54:00 +0000

Tasting 27 vintages of our Château La Clarière. The day-off started well. Except you get to the bakers after eight and all the good stuff's gone. By ten we had all the bottles lined up round a big circular table in the bat cave where we store the piles of seven cases each from every vintage we have made at La Clarière. The bat stayed up in his hole and didn't seem bothered.

1984 to 2010 … with the 2011 in barrels around us and the 2012 arriving up above us. Good to get away from the hubbub and crashing around upstairs. Good too, to have no phone reception in the caves. It was Henry, me, Guy who was our first farmer, now retired, Justin MW, and Claire who runs our cellars here, to start with. We worked quietly and slowly which is the best way. Extensive notes were taken which I will draw together and circulate to our Confrères (the rather important people who actually buy this wine). We have Confrères who have been drinking our wine for two decades or more. We thought they'd enjoy a bit of a résumé. We would too.

So, the detail I will save. But will say that the remarkable thing for me was that no wine had fallen apart. Some wines are past their best – they have faded – but I could still happily drink all of them. I'm quite proud of that. They were lighter wines in the 80's, got richer in the 90's, and blossomed in the 2000's. But in all three decades we won plenty of medals and actually our progress mirrors the progress made in our region.

We were the first in our region to sort our harvest and throw away poor grapes. And by 'our region' I mean Castillon and St Emilion. We had very high standards of cellar cleanliness from the beginning … we built the first completely new winery in Castillon for decades. Just being selective and clean probably won us our first gold medals.

But we also made mistakes. Our vineyards were new and produced too many grapes. I knew little about winemaking. But we made 'charming' wines which can still charm. And we got by quite well … thanks to the Confrères buying all the wine every year.

Jean-Marc Sauboua took over the winemaking in the '90's and we can taste how his 1994 was a big step up. He took a more vigorous approach to winemaking and we also started thinning our crop by dropping grapes in August. So we made sturdier and more concentrated wines. Still sort of 'serious' though. Not a lot of olfactory fireworks.

These came in the 2000's. Mostly due to us finally realising we had to let our grapes stay longer on the vine. To super-ripeness. And we also began to incorporate the fruit from the older vineyards we acquired which took us from three hectares to six hectares (although, due to our efforts at making a richer, bigger wine, we still made about the same number of bottles).

We seem to best in the unfancied vintages. 2002 is a real star with us. Pretty happy with every recent vintage.

By the end there were loads of people crowding round.

In the afternoon we planned a blind 'horizontal' tasting of our pick of the best Castillons made by our neighbours and some representative châteaux from across the border in St Emilion. Unfortunately I missed that as I had to rush a sick friend to hospital and sit there for six hours while they sorted him out. No complaints though. Libourne has a great hospital. I owe it so much.

They told me when I got back that whilst it was a St Emilion that won, the Castillons did best overall and the Laithwaite family vineyards did very well.

I have asked we do more of these blind tastings. The real truth comes out when you can't see the labels.

It was a quieter evening – only 14 – and early bed as we're back out with the secateurs the morrow.

Bordeaux Harvest - the fifth day of picking

noreply@blogger.com (Tony Laithwaite) — Mon, 15 Oct 2012 14:41:00 +0000

This was the fifth day of picking. I think. Harvesting, your world shrinks and time becomes a vague thing. You just focus on getting through to lunch. Then after lunch you focus on getting through to dinner. You vaguely know that outside your little world there are things i.e. party conferences and elections happening. But they seem so far away and quite irrelevant.

The weather gods amuse themselves with us. Today we'd just started and it began to sheet down. Scary. But it was just a tease. After five mins it stopped and we were dry till 'midi'.

Today was the lowest, dampest vineyard. It had some rot. Some grapes had gone furry. But we've seen worse. A little shake and the affected grapes mostly drop off. So we lose some. And it slows us.

After lecturing all the newbies about never snipping where they can't see, I forget my own rules and snip open my little finger. Idiot.

This vineyard has mint growing as a weed between the vines. Peppermint. Lovely. Peppermint Vineyard. Actually called Le Grand Pre.

At lunch, sit with the older ones. Including our retired farmer Guy, father of Olivier our farmer, husband of Bernadette, our cook. We compare aches. The French talk about old folks 'Tamalou' lunches: “t'a mal ou?”… where do you hurt? It's chicken stuffed with cepes. A big favourite. And Mark's latest bottling from the chai. Off the machine this morning 'Pierres Dorés'. Carcassone Chardonnay.

Lovely dinner for 19 … cooked by the lads: sausages in piperade - the basque tomato and peppers sauce.

Day off tomorrow … my aching muscles are happy with that.

The Harvest Continues

noreply@blogger.com (Tony Laithwaite) — Wed, 10 Oct 2012 15:50:00 +0000

Not sure when I last blogged. The mind gets a bit fogged up staring at grapes all day. And bloody Blackberry packed up again. What is it with these machines? So good for years. Now.....!!!! So have been cut off.

But they tell me this is the third day of actual picking … as opposed to hanging around, waiting.

It was raining and totally dark this morning when I went for the bread. The bakery oven fire was v welcome sight. But Henry and Barbara looked at the weather radar and decided to 'go'. It had actually stopped raining by eight when we started. But it was damp, the view from the hill was zero and the mud stuck to our boots – and knee pads in my case.

But we carried on. Inspired or put to shame by our indomitable Aussies. Nothing stops them. First load went to the cellar at 10am. Slower conditions today. But we finished the vineyard – called Maugras – by 11.30. It's a steep little vineyard. The hod porters hate the climb with a full load. There was some shouting. Only Tom, though. Vineyard faces east down towards a lovely arcadian scene of woods, vines, stream and wide grass borders. You wouldn't be surprised if a unicorn appeared in the mist.

Near us, a cottage where the lady keeps hens. So we used to call it 'Chicken Vineyard'. But Henry has got a bit posher these days. So Jimmy's Hill, Road Block and Hill of Death are no more, sadly. We now use the names off the village 'cadastral' plans. Puits de Parre and all that.

As the morning goes on we get our view back and the sun emerges. It WAS a good decision to go. 12 am, back to La Clarière for the harvest meal. "A la soupe!" we should cry … Two long trestle tables. Bernadette swearing about her husband and son; 'Les Hommes' because they hadn't delivered the old vine wood for her fire. It's steak! Best meal of the harvest. Soup with Nouilles (noodles), salad, tomatoes, palm hearts and cucumber.

Steak cooked over vines with a coating of shallots the local way. Cheese and my other favourite dish; Pain Perdu. Which is old bread soaked in egg and milk them fried in butter and served with a coating of strawberry jam. Madame Cassin used to make this for me and Monsieur . Succulent. Various 'sample' or 'control' bottles from Le Chai brought by Mark.

Nice day now. Back to work sorting this morning's harvest. What this boils down to, mostly, is picking the little bits of green stalk that stubbornly stay attached to some grapes. The de-stalker machine does a good job, and the metal grille of the vibrating table does most of the rest. Humans are needed to remove the most stubborn bits.

Stalks getting into the wine was what used to make young wine taste so hard and bitter that you had to 'lay it down' for years. That wasn't an option; you HAD to do it. Now, with no stalks, it's optional I feel. You can have your claret older or younger. Rather as you can have your steak blue or well-done. Up to you.

Stuff like this goes through your head as you pick out the little green bits ... and Time, thank God, flies.

Sneak away when all is sorted. Leave the young to make with the hoses and brushes. They enjoy that. Barbara and I, our age, we need a hot bath. Then she roasts three gigots. Served with Megacroutons; good way of using the old bread and getting the Brits to eat as much bread as the French. Roast bread pieces with garlic and pimento.

We drink first a lovely Anjou red that Cat sent me. Cabernet Franc, I guess. But big, black, soft. I didn’t know you could get such a thing in Anjou. Weren’t like that in my day. Also some Bourgueil ; less exciting, (Cat. A bit of 'Bret’).

Then Aussie Philbo does one of his 'while you watch' desserts; Tarte Tatin. With a lovely bottle of Amber Banyuls dessert wine I picked up in June? We should sell more of this nectar. Bargain nectar.

And so here we are. Typing this in the kitchen. End of the day. Most gone to bed. Me too, now. Snores.

Bordeaux Harvest - how to pick grapes

noreply@blogger.com (Tony Laithwaite) — Tue, 09 Oct 2012 08:26:00 +0000

Wait for days till the man is happy and says “go”. He waits a long time this year. On this date last year, we'd already finished vintage. Get up at 6.45, put on layers of clothes and go out in the pitch dark to get baguettes from the bakery. Hot baguettes. His oven is blazing still.

Avoid huge harvesting machines with lots of blazing lights like extraterrestrials that straddle the roads as they race for the next vineyard. Some of these will have been going all night. The whole region echoes to their whirring and whooshing. But we are harvesting by hand still. Neanderthals.

Breakfast is like a silent monastery. We are all wondering why we are doing this.

There is now some faint light as we assemble at the winery and get our kit.

It's tough on the knees

Drive in convoy to top of the hill above Ch du Bois. Get our 'panniers' and secateurs, strap on knee pads (to much mirth) and attack! Grapes hang low here. And hide. So the best bet is first to rip away leaves. If you can see what you are snipping you'll cut yourself less. Put the basket under to catch the escapees. Snip away.

Good crop this 'parcelle'. The highest vineyard in the village. And our ripest. 10 bunches per vine! That's good. Can be just three or four. Fill six pallet boxes – a full trailer – in an hour and a half. Going really well. Tom shouts he's found a bunch with rot. That's the only one all morning.

The sun breaks through and disperses the low cloud, we take off jackets etc and the larks trill away high above and the view down the valley, vines, villages and spires, to St-Emilion is stunning. You call “pannier”when your basket is full and the hod carriers come. They shout “hod” and you tip and watch them wince as the straps bite their shoulders. Grapes are heavy.

Up and down you go, two or three to a row. Bantering away. Times flies today. Sometimes it drags. But we've had no real wet harvests lately. The young don't remember any. I do … but 20 years ago.

And so it goes.

Till 12. Which is time to go to La Clarière for vegetable soup then cauliflower and beetroot salad then pork and potatoes then cheeses then apple pie then coffee. With a little wine.

Then we sort our grapes in the afternoon, put them in their tank, tell them a bedtime story, wash down the equipment, put everything ready for tomorrow and get ready for a BBQ at the Chai OK with a party of visting staff from around the world and any customers who happen to be passing.

The evening meal is not at all silent-monastic. Quite the opposite. Now we know why we do it this way.

Bordeaux Harvest - the gathering

noreply@blogger.com (Tony Laithwaite) — Mon, 08 Oct 2012 08:48:00 +0000

Sunday is 'The Gathering'. Of the people. The grapes? That's later.

Beds made and shoved in every spare space in the house. Huge amounts of food. Cases and cases of wine. Barrels of beer. The Halls will ring with the roar of feasting for the next two weeks. We don't pay anyone to come and work harvest. But they live well.

Last night Scott the half-kiwi from Theale office; today Philbo and Nat; Red Headers off the plane from Adelaide, with Philbo's now grown-up son, Nick the pilot. All winemakers, these. Skilled men. Then the muscle; B's sister Helen, Booker and Super Jack arrive from UK. Then Chris and girlfriend Miggy from Marlow Vineyard. There's Dan and Laura still to come from Harrogate plus baby William. And Kaye of course. With baby Eleanor. With Barbara, Tom, Henry, me that's 17, plus babies. Plus Nadja and James; Chai winemakers who live down the road but seem to prefer it here.

All will turn up on time. But the harvest never does. All of us ready to go. Except the grapes. Mr Perfection Henry reckons they need a little more sun. So it’s a Wednesday start. Not that we can sit in the sun. We have to clean the cellars and the machinery, anyway. So no more lie-ins now.

Henry's in charge.

I can't remember when I was last in charge here. If I ever was. I'm not a winemaker. Though I did make a few wines. Back in the '80's, but only by constantly asking real winemaker friends what to do next. For years I've just done light manual labour. As light as I could get. I'm good with a hosepipe and brush. I can strip and clean a de-stemmer.

And of course I can pick. And I can sort grapes. I have, this year, invested in a pair of knee pads. I saw a builder wearing them and thought that's just what I kneed. I ordered off the web; top of the range gel-filled beauties. See, picking grapes, it’s not long before my back goes. We start at 8. By 8.30 bending is a real pain. Grapes hang only a foot above ground here. So it’s squat - at my age? Or kneel. On ground full of rocks. These pads are going to save my bloody life.

Ah ha! Someone has started. Away to my left as I sit writing this with my beer and Alfie dog I can hear a harvester in the vines. That's the first in our valley. This morning was silent as we took our constitutional. Apart the bangs. They shoot Sundays here. Shoot anything. Me and Alfie take care to ensure we don't look anything like 'gibier'. The eyesight of those old fools is appalling.

Anyway, cautious optimism is the mood. Helped by a good lunch: a takeaway; bought at Libourne market this morning. Archachon oysters, small roasted chickens and potatoes. Got to build up our strength.

Bordeaux Harvest - calm before the vintage storm

noreply@blogger.com (Tony Laithwaite) — Fri, 05 Oct 2012 14:13:00 +0000

Sat morning musings on the Blackberry, in a meadow with Alfie dog. Cold nights but days as warm as summer; good vintage weather. Some rain. But these days well-tended vines, well-protected grapes shrug that off. Rain that would have meant disaster 30 years ago, today just perks up the vines and ripening accelerates. Haven't seen any sign of rot.

Not sure it’s true everywhere but Ste. Colombe at least is displaying lots of lovely black grapes.

All is calm. Calm before the storm of vintage. Due to kick off next Wednesday. We don't grow white grapes here so nothing is moving. Whites are coming into Le Chai from south of the river. Busy over there.

Talk is of the runaway English girl found in Bordeaux. Last night the Comptoir had a huge table set for an English wedding group. We are a romantic destination!

Glad we got our Ch du Bois last year. I'm gazing at it now. Half a mile away on its wooded hill.

The great adventure of restoring, then taking this lovely old place to new winemaking heights is something I intend to share with my customers in every way I can. I want you, all my customer chums, to experience all the joy of making wine in Aquitaine with none of the numerous hassles.

Who wants a bit of château then?

Working on it.

If runaway girls and marrying girls come here what about the rest? Bordeaux is so close. Ihr 20mins. Bordeaux city is lively these days. The boys got back at 5 this morning. The people are nicer than Parisians.

Castillon; our bit of up-country is only an hour away. Train or car. Visits? Le Chai au Quai on the Dordogne, the underground caves of Ch La Clariere, Henry Laithwaite's new shed winery, Ch du Bois, its courtyard and terraced vines, Le Comptoir de St Genes for lunch with winegrowers amidst piles of their wines. That's just us.

Also St-Emilion next door, most beautiful of all wine towns even if over-touristy now. Castillon is a real 'live' town, and we have endless little villages and real châteaux with turrets, battlements and such. Next year we'll even have 'Un Golf". Just 9 holes but due to grow. You can buy a house on it.

The 'Bataille de Castillon' is a spectacle not dissimilar to the first bit of our Olympic Opening. Medieval France comes alive, Son et Lumière, music, cast of hundreds … is there a bigger such event anywhere? Three times a week over the summer. Been going over 30 years. They are amazing people; the Castillonais. Am proud to be an adopted son.

Do come.

Tom said he met a happy couple at Le Comptoir lunch yesterday, had just done the Chai tour. He remembered them from a talkie-tasting I did in Reading recently. I'd invited them to Castillon. And they'd come!

So must you all.

Bordeaux Harvest - a day with the board

noreply@blogger.com (Tony Laithwaite) — Thu, 04 Oct 2012 11:45:00 +0000

Sun's back. Dawn start. Not harvest; just a Board Meeting upstairs at Le Chai. Good one; not too many numbers, more ideas stuff. Loo breaks, sneak quick tastes from tanks. Bloody good Sauvignon this year. The boys are getting seriously good at this. And girls. Newbie Nadja from Oz is a great find. Keeps place neat as new pin. Three groups of customers doing tours, Keyholders. Get photographed with.

Board goes on till 5.

Staff group of 30 arrive for tour. Germans, Poles, Yanks, and Brits – Theale and Gloucester both. My, how multi-national we are these days. They have a blending competition. Am judge. Hey, a couple not bad at all. They name their blends. I like 'Bella Ella'! As our granddaughter Eleanor is now called Ella too.

Jean Marc does his tasting turn. God, he so loves an audience. Today he can't make his mind up which of his two roles. Top half dressed shirt and pullover: 'The Bordeaux Buyer'; bottom half shorts and Blunstones: 'The Winemaker'. He wows them all.

J-MS' audience

Auriele, Vineyard Manager

Then up to our new estate, Château du Bois. Vineyard Manager Aurelie gives Board the tour. Impressive girl. Tall, strict Alsacienne. She was bit quiet, last month. Maybe worried. Huge task taken on. But now is bouncing around. "Sad vines" she says, "now Happy vines!"True. Place so run down after the old man died. Widow didn't care. Kids had moved out. Dodgy farmer hired. Mostly just nicked stuff of the old lady. So sad.

Now after Henry, Justin, Aurelie and team give TLC, the vineyards look great. We ripped out the worst one. Replant in Spring.

Cellar was found like a grubby Marie-Celeste. Abandoned in mid meal. Now, Aurelie has scrubbed to a shine. (Alsace always has had the most immaculate cellars in France). I felt I should've left my boots at the door. Board all dead impressed.

Château du Bois

Then 10-min drive to the great château in the village of Francs; far top right hand corner of Bordeaux vineyards. Taxi has no idea. Lucky I know the village so well. Here was the second supplier I ever had; the Cave Co-operative. Now all shut down, sad and deserted. Ah! Dear Cave President Conchou. Thank you for that £200 loan in '69. You financed a sixth of my original van.

An old photo of the château

But tonight it’s the imposing château. Restored by our friends the Vossens from Belgium. They sell art and modern design for a living. Have 'style' coming out of ears. Place is stunning. So is Anne-Marie and Remy's food from Le Comptoir.

The idea of being here is to get inspired and lift our creative game.

Ideas are the lifeblood of any business.

We all stood round in circle and told of other companies that inspire us. Then sat down with food, wine, started throwing wild ideas around. Noise! Never let up. Did we do well? Time will tell. But I was very happy. I love wild ideas and originality. Love them. Hate repetition.

On the way home we pass a party scene outside Ch La Clarière. It’s the 'Staff' again. They've had one of Bernadette's harvest suppers. And tasted everything we have by the look of it. They are well away. Fond farewells. (Those Polish girls!)

Bernadette starts harvest lunches proper next Wednesday. Been doing them since before we bought the place. Loves it. But then she's the wife of our old farmer and mother of the current one. Lose a couple of the younger Board Members to the partying. Barbara, Simon, me continue home to blessed bed.

Too old to party? No way! Just not every night.

Bordeaux Harvest 2012 - Sainte-Colombe

noreply@blogger.com (Tony Laithwaite) — Wed, 03 Oct 2012 09:02:00 +0000

Flew down to grey skies and rain. Dear God! Nobody tell Jancis or that's another vintage shot.

Weather's been mostly good and hot this month, as it was in August and the grapes actually look lovely around the house. Henry's last analysis was over 14 potential. 20 years ago harvest round here would've been long over. H is amazed we used to make 12 degree wines … which still taste pretty bloody good, son! As we'll demonstrate next week with a vertiginous vertical of every vintage since the unfortunate 1984.

Having done the vineyard walk (always the first thing on arrival) with Alfie dog and lit a big fire, great to be able sit and write at last.

Been busy with Authors this week. Laithwaites sponsored our indefatigable neighbour Sue Ryan and her Henley Literary Festival this year. She gets all these fascinating people you'd love to meet to come and talk and Henley folk reveal they don't just do Pimms and Rowing and Hooray, but are in fact dead cultured.

Michael Palin really is as nice as he seems and looked just like a grizzled explorer who'd just done the Amazon. Which in fact he had. Howard Jacobson v. good – got the book. Mrs Moneypenny, Jilly Cooper … You can't do them all, sadly. I had a job. Watched Emma Freud showing how to be an interviewer and tried to copy her, asking Hugh Johnson really interesting questions. Then repeated same for a second performance (he's big in Henley is HJ). That was hard.

Our 'authors’ party' last night. Thank you kind taximan for bringing back my bag with all my precious stuff. Good party though.

Board Meeting here tomorrow. Followed by an 'Un-Board' or 'Unbored' session in the beautifully restored Château de Francs lent us by kind friends as a place to get well-inspired; helped along with the wine of course. The great Michel Roland, king of winemaking consultants, grew up in this great, if battered, edifice and has returned to make the wine in its stunning new cellars.

Should be a good night. We'll get lateral … mentally, that is. Lots of wild new ideas are bound to come out. Remembering them next day will be the hard bit.

Southern Rhône Valley Trip – Day two, part three

noreply@blogger.com (Tony Laithwaite) — Mon, 01 Oct 2012 13:24:00 +0000

Our final visit is to the lovely Diffonty family for dinner in their yard (alongside tractors and trailers all clean and ready for harvest starting tomorrow morning). How thoughtless of us to pick this date. Karine has to cook a whole meal whilst – with Jean-Marc – showing us all over their vineyards until Yves finds a photo spot he likes, bathed in the glow of the setting sun.

Karine (in heels) and Jen-Marc Diffonty

But then she is just the most amazing ball of energy, this lovely lady. She does it all AND gets the children from school whilst keeping up the endless chat and peals of laughter.

Best bit was she'd 'forgotten' to change out of her stiletto heels' for the vineyard tour. This got old man Yves going. Which got her going even more. Dancing around in lethal high heels on the great pile of 'galets' which is their vineyard. And she can do it. Looked like a real model doing a fashion shoot. But this is the lady who works this vineyard. I doubt though, that she wears high heels in January, out pruning when the Mistral blows.

But we had some fun. And Jean-Marc just quietly stood there, as he does, smiling fondly while his ball of fire bounced around him. She screamed off to rescue dinner from the oven and we just stood, watched the sun go down and drank his Cuvée Sixtine. Apparently, every so often they send a case of wine to the Vatican and without fail they get back a formal Papal Blessing! Their top wine, named after the Sistine Chapel is undoubtedly my preferred Châteauneuf of all.

We ate, all eight of us, out in their yard by the kitchen door, Karine whizzing in and out with yet another dish - she said it was a light supper.

We drank a beautiful 2003 chosen I think to show that here they make wines the old way...to last. The Diffontys - indeed, all our CNDP suppliers are Traditionalistas who have refused to take the route to overripe, fruitbomb, immediate-drinking, Parker Point-winning, full-fat, soft, black cushion wines. Such wines in a blistering year like 2003 have most likely already fallen apart. But the Vatican 2003 is still gloriously balanced and full of life because they managed to keep the necessary acidity.

Jean-Marc then came up from his cellar with an encrusted, label-less '72. That was an amazing gesture. I know he only has – had – four of these bottles made by his father Fêlicien (also a mayor of Châteauneuf – for 30 years!) Oh! it was so good, out there, under the stars.

Is there a better job than mine? As my dear old PA Clare used to say, I am The Complete Lucky Bastard!

My boy Tom said, when we staggered back to the hotel, that he saw no problem taking on my role. Anytime, Dad. Not quite the same response at 6 am as we crept out of the lovely hotel to join the harvesters on the hill, so Yves could get the 'first-light' shots he so loves. Prancing around on those bloody galets for hours. How do they do it? You could turn your ankle with every step.

Great trip. Clever. We picked the region that's suffered least from weather this year. And, in fact for the last few years.

So … simple message: buy lots of Rhône wine.

Southern Rhône Valley Trip – Day two, part two

noreply@blogger.com (Tony Laithwaite) — Fri, 28 Sep 2012 10:31:00 +0000

After far too much lunch under a spreading cypress tree we move on to my very first Châteauneuf supplier; Château de Nalys.

This was once the estate of the great Docteur Dufays, town's doctor, founder of L’ Eschansonnerie des Papes and a man I still remember best for his long discourse on how a wine merchant should behave, given to me in a nightclub after the very first Bordeaux Wine Fair in 1970.

There was a bunch of medal-winning wine growers there from every corner of France, who had formed a group to promote their wines. The Docteur was not their official leader but he was the one they all looked up to. They loved his wisdom … and wit. Especially as he would keep ordering bottles of Dom Pérignon. Great man. But then his only son died tragically and soon he too. So the estate was bought in '79 by the GROUPAMA Insurance group.

That rather put me off buying the wine, which was a mistake because the estate had – and still has Pierre Pellissier as winemaker . He has always revered the great Docteur - who, learned man that he was, introduced a lot of revolutionary ideas to Châteauneuf and Rhône Valley winemaking.

He was, along with André Roux, the worlds great exponent of maceration carbonique (whole bunch fermentation) a terrific way of giving wines a dancing, cheerful lightness whilst (contrary to the opinions of most playsafe oenologists) taking nothing away from the wine's wines ability to age gracefully. (I still have bottles from the '80's drinking beautifully). Pierre agrees with me. And increasingly so, these days, do many keen young winemakers.

Anyway, we've been buying Nalys wines for many years and many customers adore them. The Docteur lives on in his wines.

We found we were booked in at a lovely hotel called Hostellerie du Chateau des Fine Roches; a turreted castle on hill. Lovely terrace. Pool. Wasted on us, as usual, because we only check in to check out.

Southern Rhône Valley Trip – Day two, part one

noreply@blogger.com (Tony Laithwaite) — Wed, 26 Sep 2012 10:06:00 +0000

: Headline: Promising vintage in Rhône Valley

Le Prince de Courthézon with its prized customer awards

Up early to Nyons for a croissant and coffee. Market day. Then across to Courthézon and the Cellier de Princes, the brilliant co-operative cellar of Châteauneuf-du-Pape. Great welcome (due probably to our customers' great enthusiasm for their wines; we seem now to be their most important customer).

I learnt the wine trade in a French co-operative cellar. And I've bought wine from a hundred or more. If it’s well-run, a cave co-op is unbeatable on quality/price. But getting French wine farmers to co-operate is bloody hard work in this land of rabid individualists. Few can do it. However, Jocelyn Bressy has managed it here. So much so that the cellar is attracting new members from across the whole region: something almost unheard-of in this day and age. He has a brilliant young winemaker in Thierry Ferlay.

We watch fruit arriving. We go and have a look at an estate called Escondudes (meaning 'the hidden-one' – and it sure is hidden. Those terrible tracks; Avis are going to get their car back in bits! But a sweet old vineyard and a couple of sweet old guys.

Monsieur Ali has tended these acres since he arrived in France 40 years ago. He looks terrific on it. Gave us lovely ripe figs too, from a tree on the boundary with the next vineyard which belongs to the v grand estate of Vieux Télégraph. (Presumably called that because this would be a terrific spot to semaphore from; on a clear day you can see way beyond Avignon, almost to the sea).

Southern Rhône Valley Trip – Day one, part three

noreply@blogger.com (Tony Laithwaite) — Mon, 24 Sep 2012 09:07:00 +0000

Day one, part three

Finally made it over the river to Châteauneuf and the Perrin family at their great Château de Beaucastel. There cannot be a more successful and esteemed family in the Rhône Valley. Some families do very well in business. Some get famous for their wines. Rarely both.

Today though, was not to see Beaucastel, but to go a couple of miles to their new cellars where they make the 'Family' wines from their other, now quite extensive, vineyards.

There, they have made and we have just launched their – and our – very exciting 'Meridion' range of wines. I'd never seen the place. I was expecting something a bit more of a 'Big Production' than Beaucastel itself, but no, it actually seemed smaller; nice old farm up a long avenue of plane trees. It had Beaucastel style great halls of polished oak fermenters. Mark and Pierre showed us round as the first fruit was coming in.

All-new equipment, lovely machines. Not cheap. Even a laser sorter. These replace fallible humans … like me. (I 'sort' at our winery. Chucking out grapes we don't want. I'm not as good as this machine … especially after lunch). You show this machine a perfect grape. It puts it in its memory. It laser scans every grape coming into the cellar. Anything that doesn’t look just right: 'Bzzt'! It’s gone. On a tiny jet of air. Machinery like this, it’s no wonder there are no 'bad vintages' anymore … for those who can afford this kit. Even in a poor year this thing will only pick out perfectly ripe grapes.

Anyway after the tour and taste we head up to their little estate in Gigondas … and their own restaurant; 'L'OUSTALET. Terrific meal ending in an exquisite Beaucastel 2000.

They spoil me.