The French are finally coming to terms with generic wines. The bottles, instead of being labelled with the name of the grower and location, have names that are either trendy (Fat Bastard or Le Freak) or else amiably meaningless, such as Chamarré, a kind of butterfly.
The labels also show the grape variety. This information was previously thought unnecessary; if you didn’t know that, say, Chablis was made from Chardonnay, or Condrieu from Viognier, you probably weren’t fit to drink it. But these wines, it’s thought, will be welcome to confused drinkers everywhere, in Britain, the US or in France itself.
But it will be a slow process. The notion of terroir is embedded in French culture, and the idea of a wine that does not come from a particular place is as odious as Danish or Australian lager, mass-produced in British industrial plants, is to a Camra enthusiast.
So these wines, offered by the ancient Berry Bros. & Rudd of St James’s, are all firmly rooted in the places they are made. The offer is slightly more expensive than our usual mini-bar (though BBR has discounted every one by a generous 10 per cent), but all the wines are distinguished as well as utterly delicious. Three are French, but the first, Hewitson Riesling 2004, is from the Eden Valley in South Australia, a home of great Rieslings. These, as well as having a terrific intensity, also have — and don’t let this put you off — a faint whiff of petrol, a slight oiliness which makes them even more deliciously pungent.
I also loved this white Bordeaux, Ch. Villa Bel Air 2004. It has the backbone of Sauvignon Blanc with the round ripe flavour of the Sémillon. It’s oak-aged, yet still zesty, floral and tropical.
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