I am feeling particularly jaded after a hectic few days at the London Wine Fair. It is a whirlwind of activity with a never-ending series of meetings, tastings and workshops to fit in.
It is easy to be distracted . . . I had my fair share of invitations to taste the new Pomegranate Wine from the Lebanon and I could easily have lost myself in some delicious smelling Amarone wines from Italy had I not been more focused.
I had a plan and I was determined to stick to it. As always, there were highlights and lowlights.
A masterclass on the wines of Uruguay was not as exciting as I had hoped. The most widely made red wines are either single variety Tannats or, more commonly, blends with Tannat as the leading player.
It is a grape that came to Uruguay from the south-west of France and many argue that it is the wines that are being made from the older vines — from the original plantings — that are delivering the best results.
Some claim that the more recent clones are not capable of producing wines of any great complexity or potential.
The tasting did not enable me to draw any conclusions on the clone debate but there is clearly still work to be done to give the wines the sort of polished finish that will be needed if they want to achieve any sort of sensible export success.
In wine-making terms, Sardinia is just as marginal as Uruguay but I was determined to give the wines a go having just come back from a week’s holiday to this stunning island.
In truth, what was on offer was a bit of a mixed bag.
On the white wine front there is lots of Vermentino (also know as Rolle in Southern France), which is a grape that gives a fairly light, citrusy wine. A good choice when you are sunning yourself on the beaches of the Costa Smeralda.
Seemingly unique to Sardinia are the Nuragus and Nasco white grapes and, given my modest tasting of the wines, I cannot see plantings popping up anywhere else.
Cannonau is Sardinia’s Grenache and I tasted a handful of really, really good wines from this grape. It is funny really because I typically struggle with Grenache’s sweetness. Cannonau seemed less opulent and more savoury, which I liked.
I also enjoyed the crunchy, fresh red wines from the feminine sounding Monica grape. The good examples were fragrant and elegant and with more moderate alcohol levels.
At some point you have to get back into the more mainstream and this I did by returning to Spain for a refresher on Rioja. It was, by this point, late in the day and my feet were swollen and my taste buds were just about kaput.
So, when a reprieve was offered, I grabbed it with both hands.
“Go to the hotel . . . rest up and we’ll see you for tapas at 9.00 . . . we’ll bring the wines for you to taste then.” An offer that was far too good to refuse.
Three hours later I was faced with an enticing line-up of young Rioja wines.
The tasting was good, the wines were happily light on oak and all that brilliant, bright tempranillo fruit was making me hungry.
Right on cue, an enormous platter arrived at the table piled high with rosemary-scented, grilled lamb cutlets. A delicious and perfect end to an interesting day.
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