Should wine writers pay for the wines they recommend?

One of the hoariest old chestnuts in discussions about the ethics of wine writing is whether wine writers should buy the wines they write about themselves rather than attending tastings or being sent samples.

In an ideal world we would but if you think about it for a nanosecond it’s simply not practical. Most of us taste at least 50 wines a week on average - considerably more at certain times of the year, a number of which are going to be quite pricey. No wine writer has pockets deep enough or gets paid a salary large enough to fund that nor - these days - do the publications they write for. (Do motoring correspondents pay for their own cars or travel writers meet the costs of getting to long haul destinations their editors want them to write about? I think not.)

Obviously that runs the risk that the samples can be selected to impress (don’t tell me that doesn’t happen with the primeurs or tank samples) but finished bottles are harder to manipulate and more often than not don’t pass muster anyway. I would guess I rate about one in 8 of the wines I try at a supermarket tasting - or at the very least feel they would be better in a few months’ time. (That’s happening at the moment with 2014 northern hemisphere whites many of which would benefit from a later release).

Buying off the shelf has its drawbacks too. A perfectly good wine may show poorly because it’s been stored in less than ideal conditions - under hot bright lights for instance. Or be at the tail end of its shelf life before a vintage change. So maybe we should be buying three, at different times and in different shops? Simply can’t be done.

My policy for what it’s worth is that I go to tastings as often as I can, sometimes call in samples when I can’t and occasionally receive unsolicited samples but don’t feel obliged to write positively about any wine as a result. I try to find wines that I think my readers will enjoy and regard as good value for money (and that doesn’t necessarily mean cheap).

However to improve my hit rate and hopefully uncover some new gems I’ve introduced a feature called Off the Shelf which, as the name suggests, reports on a random bottle I've plucked from a shop display. You’ll find the first one under Wine Finds (renamed from Drink of the Week) here.

And in the interests of transparency I will try and remember to state where the bottles I recommend come from - requested sample, unsolicited sample, press tasting, producer visit or whatever. You’ll have to make up your own mind whether that’s affected my judgement!

5 of the world’s sexiest cheeses

Cheese is possibly not the first ingredient that comes to mind in terms of a Valentine’s Night celebration but think again and you realise there's no shortage of suitable candidates.

It’s not only what you serve but how you serve it of course. Two at least, the Vacherin and Camembert, can be baked in their boxes - warm cheese has to be even sexier than cheese at room temperature.

What is essential in my book at least is some degree of gooeyness (though not stinkiness unless you know your partner well and you’re both cheese fanatics. I reckon an Epoisses or Stinking Bishop is out.)

Vacherin Mont d’Or

Surely the sexiest cheese on earth - and - hooray! - still in season on Valentine’s Day. Great with a freshly baked crusty baguette or, better still, baked with a side of new potatoes to dunk in it. The only problem is it’s quite large. You may not need anything else, except possibly a glass of champagne. Or two. In fact I think you could drink champagne with all of these. See more of my best pairings with Vacherin Mont d'Or.

Camembert

You might regards this as a poor man’s Vacherin but it's a fine cheese in its own right - and a bargain to boot. And again you can bake it. As for pairings, check out these 5 great drink matches for Camembert.

Serra da Estrela

A fantastic Portuguese sheeps cheese set with cardoons rather than rennet which gives it a particularly seductive silky texture. A great cheese to share with a cheese buff

Taleggio

Superb washed-rind northern Italian cheese that verges on the stinky as it matures but is amazing on pizza or tarts. If you’re not a big one for lavish Valentine’s celebrations Nigel Slater’s Mushroom & Taleggio toastie would be an indulgent snack for a quiet night in.

Coeur de Neufchâtel

Maybe a romantic cheese rather than a sexy one this heart-shaped cheese clearly shows your loved one you're out to impress. It’s made from cow’s cheese and tastes quite like a Camembert but it is possible to find heart-shaped goats cheeses too.

So are these the kind of cheeses that you would serve on Valentine's night or can you think of a better option?

Image © Jill Wellington

Why Serge Hochar of Chateau Musar was so special

Like everyone else who came in touch with him I was shocked and saddened to hear of the death of Serge Hochar of Chateau Musar this week, apparently as a result of a swimming accident while he was on holiday. He was one of the most inspirational and charismatic winemakers I ever had the privilege of meeting.

My first encounter with him was as a rookie reporter when I was working for the Murdoch owned tabloid Today back in the early 90s. He talked me through his wines in his mesmerising way unveiling layers of mystery and magic I’d never imagined wine could possess. I fell in love with Musar - and a little bit with Serge - at that moment and have remained fascinated by it ever since.

There was of course the story about how the grapes were trucked over the mountains during the Lebanese civil war which gave his wines a heroic dimension that undoubtedly added to their cult status.

At the time you could buy Musar in Safeway for about £8.99, I seem to remember. I wish I’d stockpiled more. It keeps for years though not everyone approves of the funky edge it develops or its inconsistency not only from vintage to vintage but bottle to bottle - something about which Hochar was totally unrepentant. "I like brett" (brettanomyces) he said emphatically when I interviewed him in the Lebanon four years ago. "Who cares?"

Our visit to the winery was an extraordinary experience. I remember Serge guiding us, wine in hand, round the cobweb-festooned cellars while he challenged us to keep tasting what was in our glasses. "Keep trying it" he urged. "Wine is never the same. Never, never, never."

He was addicted to the unfashionable cinsault which he said brought silkiness and femininity to his wine. Maybe that’s why the vintages which have the greatest percentage of cinsault have always appealed to me most though the cabernet and carignan that are also in this unusual blend add a structure that helps to give it its longevity. (He said cabernet gave it backbone and carignan ‘shape and muscle'.)

Oddly though it wasnt the red that was his favourite but his highly oxidised white, a wine I didn’t like when I first tasted it but which now seems, in the light of the growth of the natural wine movement, simply a wine that was way ahead of its time. It also benefits from age as I discovered when we opened a 2001 at a recent dinner (sadly the last one of that age I have left).

His winemaking ticked all the natural wine boxes - organic viticulture, natural yeasts. minimal sulphur, no fining or filtering - but it was above all the terroir of the Bekaa Valley that he believed gave the wine its concentration, intensity and “unique aroma”. Not that any other Lebanese wine tastes like Musar.

He was a philosopher king of winemaking who made wine fascinating, bewitching and fun. He will be sorely missed by everyone who came into contact with him and by the Lebanese wine industry he did so much to shape. Greatest sympathy to his family and friends.

There's a lovely tribute to Serge on the Harpers website by his friend Michael Karam which explains more about his philosophy and Musar's history.

How Parisiens learned to love vegetables, foreign chefs, natural wine and even their customers

3 days in Paris so far and I can report that the city is changing. Fast. Of course it’s been happening for a while but there’s a critical mass in terms of the number of restaurants which are offering a very different experience to those that established Paris's reputation as a gastronomic destination.

The restaurants about which there is the greatest buzz have a number of things in common. They serve vegetables - lots of them. They are often staffed by foreign chefs, particularly Japanese, and front of house staff who are - almost unheard of in Paris at one time - polite and solicitous. And they serve natural wine which - please note, sneerling sceptics in the wine trade - their largely young clientele totally takes in its stride.

Le Fooding - the new bible for on-trend foodies loves them, singling out places like Le Servan, Les Déserteurs and Clown Bar for their ‘palmares’ or accolades of the year.

The interesting thing is that it’s vegetables that make the economics of this new generation of restaurants viable. Last night I returned to Les Déserteurs, a restaurant we’d greatly enjoyed on a flying visit to Paris back in October. The restaurant is tiny - just over 20 covers, I’m guessing - so there is just one, no-choice fixed price menu from which you can take 4 courses for 45€ or 6 for 60€. The only expensive ingredient on it last night was grouse but they’re only serving half a bird a person (the breast with the leg elegantly turned into a perfectly seasoned ‘caillette’ (faggot). The first course was based on hispi cabbage (right) the second on assorted root veg and the final one - an immaculate tarte tatin - on apples. I’d be surprised if the cost of the ingredients was more than 12€.

That is not a complaint. The ingredients were handled with consummate skill using contrasting tastes, colours and textures to create a meal that was every bit as satisfying as one containing ingredients twice the price.

The food is backed up by an excellent and imaginative wine list that you feel is driven by a desire to serve wines that are truly interesting rather than ones on which they could make the greatest profit margin.

Other restaurants - on which I’ll be reporting at the end of the week - follow a similar pattern - or, like Au Passage, adopt the popular small plates formula which, given that prices here include service, makes for affordable eating for the customer too.

It represents a seismic shift in the French restaurant scene in response to the new generation of diners with an interest in healthier food and drink who now form the majority of restaurant customers

Alain Passard tried some 10 years ago to base his restaurant on vegetables. He was before his time but what he attempted to do - and is now doing with renewed success - is mainstream these days. Maybe we should call this new phenomenon Passardisme?

Main image credit: Chris Molloy