One of the silliest ‘wine’ purchases I ever made was a bottle of rhubarb wine that I brought back from New England.

It sat in the wine rack for some time before finally getting a reluctant opening a few months later.

I recall taking less than a couple of sips before giving up and throwing it away. Why did I buy it? Mostly because I am always curious about the wines that are being made in the places I visit.

I am writing this week’s wine column from a hotel room in Belgium, having just spent a couple of days in the Netherlands.

Would you be surprised to know that there’s a small amount of wine being made in the country better known for its clogs and tulips?

The vineyards are to be found around the wealthy town of Maastricht, which is in the far south, on the Belgian-German border, where predominantly white grape varieties such as Auxerrois, Müller Thurgau, Pinot Blanc and Riesling are grown.

It is not a booming local industry and I was hard pushed to find anyone serving it in the town’s restaurants. Instead, I was treated to some tasteless Italian white and some insipid French rosé. Could the local offering really be any worse?

So, off I went to the local wine shop. As you would expect, there were rows and rows of French, Spanish and Italian classics and a small offering from Argentina and South Africa.

I did find some bottles that were proudly labelled ‘Wines of Maastricht’ only to discover that the white wine was made with grapes from the Loire Valley, whilst Corsican grapes were used in the red. Finally, I landed on a pair of true Maastricht whites.

The first — priced at a chunky €11 a bottle — was an unoaked blend of three varieties and was presented in the tall, slim bottles that are associated with German and Alsace wines.

The second was a pure Riesling that was a few cents more expensive than the first. Back at our friend’s house, we popped the blend into the fridge and readied ourselves for the tasting.

It was surprisingly good. It had a clean, bright nose of summer orchard fruit and the palate was generous, fruity and fairly dry in style.

It was not wildly exciting and, given the price, it is not going to be the next ‘great thing’ for the UK consumer, but it was a lot better than the wines by the glass I had been served earlier in the day.

The Riesling, meanwhile, has been rolled up in a few jumpers and will come home with me as a reminder of my travels in the Netherlands.

I am already considerably more excited than I ever was about New England’s rhubarb offering.

I have not been in Belgium long enough to track down its wines (yes, really) but have been benefiting from its strong allegiance to Bordeaux. At last night’s dinner I enjoyed a 2001 Château Chasse Spleen from Moulis.

It was a wonderfully elegant mouthful of wine with ripe blue fruit and fine tannins. A reminder, perhaps, that it is fun and interesting to try wines from the Benelux countries but they are never going to be a match for what the likes of Bordeaux have to offer.

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