How I became a winemaker

This past week Liam Steevenson MW has been living his dream, making wine in the Roussillon. Here's how he did it without owning a vineyard or a winery.

"I suppose I have always wanted to make wine. As a child, the son of a wine merchant, I grew up with wine as part of my vocabulary. Winemakers sat round our kitchen table, summer holidays were spent in the vineyards of France, I was fascinated by the whole process way before I was old enough to drink it. I went on to become a merchant myself, buying wines I loved and selling them with as much enthusiasm as I could, but in the back of my mind there was always a niggle: I wanted to make the stuff.

A buying stint at Waitrose, gave me the confidence to blend, to pull out the elements in a cellar I liked, and create wines that suited our customers' palates, but it was not enough, I wanted to get my hands more dirty than that. With not enough money to buy a vineyard I realised the only way I would ever afford one was to create the demand before I had paid for the supply. I headed for the Roussillon, a region whose combination of terroir, vine stock and artisanal ambition appealed to me.

In a small village called Estagel I found a small family winery with very basic equipment, but an incredible vineyard resource and struck a deal. I would make two barrels of wine in their cellar, if I could sell them then the next year I would come back and make 4. This growth would carry on until I was consistently selling through 18 barrels, at which point I could get a loan from the bank and buy some of the vineyard. We are now at 12 barrels and will make 18 next year.

I borrowed some winemaking techniques I had learnt in Priorat, a region in Spain, on which I wrote my Master of Wine dissertation fifteen years before. We hand harvested grenache, carignan, syrah and mourvèdre from the ancient vines (many over 100 years old), and fermented them in open top 500 litre barrels, using our hands in a form of manual pigeage, to slowly and gently draw out colour, flavour and structure.

Fermentation in the cold cellars was drawn out, allowing the red, fresh elements in the wine, a reflection also of the granite soils on which the carignan in particular was planted, to remain central to the wine. On completion of fermentation, when all the sugar had converted to alcohol we transferred the wine into standard 225 litre barrels and let the wine mature for 18 months before bottling.

Naming a wine is like naming a child

Naming a wine is like naming a child, there was a list on my fridge door for months. Then walking through the vineyards one day a picked up a small, yellow flower that was growing among the vines. Immortelle, I was told, was a regional flower named because long after being picked it retained its colour and structure, characteristics which I also looked for in my wine.

I spent the last couple of weeks in Estagel, with a sense of belonging, a tie to a place from which I have been able to create a reflection of and somehow left my own finger print, it has been an incredible journey that has yielded a wine of quality far greater than I could have ever hoped and may yet afford me the vineyard I have long craved.

A Spanish white wine

Last year I started to consider another project. Customers I was selling Immortelle to were interested in a white wine partner and I personally wanted to push my winemaking learning with different techniques and in a different region.

I have long been admirer of white grenache, a little known varietal, that has a flavour profile and textural quality I enjoy. Crossing the Pyrenees from the Roussillon into Spain, through Barcelona and up into the hills beyond you eventually come to the high altitude and incredibly remote region of Terra Alta. The white grenache there has its ripeness tempered by the strong wind 'Garbi' that blows through the vines, giving an otherwise rich and opulent varietal acidity and freshness.

Some grapes ally themselves well to oak fermentation, others have a much less happy marriage: white grenache and quality new oak combine beautifully. I have never purchased new barrels before, but headed to the famous Tonnellerie Boutes in Saint Emilion, who since 1880 have been creating some of the worlds finest oak casks, and purchased some 500 litre, medium toast barrels and shipped them to the tiny village of Vilalba dels Arcs, where we pressed the hand picked grapes and filled them for a high solid ferment and period of maturation.

As I write this El Garbi is only 10 weeks in bottle, but already the signs are there of an incredible wine, with a wet wool, lanolin character that reminds me of top end Meursault. It will take 6 months in bottle for this wine to start to fully express itself, but I am incredibly excited about where this project has taken me.

Ten years ago I never believed I would one day own vineyards but today it looks a distinct reality in two of my favourite regions of the world. In the fast paced world of wine consultancy, i love the fact that these two areas with their incredible history, evolve at a pace that generations of winemaking families have established.

To be able to slow down and play an active role in such places is thrilling, giving a cultural and social aspect to my work that, although not the original reason, now feels like the most important result of starting two very personal projects."

Liam Steevenson is a wine consultant, educator and wine importer as well as being a fledgling winemaker. You can contact him through Global Wine Solutions or via Twitter @liamsteevenson.

How to choose the right tonic for your gin

It’s hard enough to keep on top of all the new gins that are coming out without having to master the burgeoning world of tonics too.

So how on earth do you decide the right one to pick?

Hoping for insights I went to a tasting organised by The Distillery at Bellita in Bristol in which we tried four different gins* on their own and in a gin and tonic. (The Distillery is the new home of Portobello Road gin and has several labels of its own.)

First off Old Tom, a traditional, slightly sweeter style of gin that tasted to me like a cross between a grain whisky and a grappa. Apparently it was aged in old sherry barrels. That was partnered with East Imperial’s tonic water from New Zealand, a tonic they also recommend with a pink gin (with added bitters). I wasn’t mad about the style - too sweet for my taste though I suspect it would be better on the rocks.

Second their ‘celebrated butter gin” which actually has unsalted butter added to the still. Nevertheless this was much brighter and more citrussy than the Old Tom with a hint of licorice. That was enhanced by a licorice-flavoured tonic from Ledgers, a combination I didn’t think I’d like, not being madly keen on licorice but which I thought worked really well bringing out fennel, anise and caraway notes in the drink. It was also perfect with a matching nibble of smoked salmon and taramasalata.

The third gin was called King Theodore of Corsica, a Mediterranean style gin not dissimilar from Barcelona’s famous Gin Mare and pot-distilled with rosemary, basil, olive oil and seasalt. This was right up my street - I loved all the herbal notes and there was plenty of juniper but wasn’t mad about the combination with Double Dutch pomegranate and basil tonic (too sweet) and garnish of rosemary and black pepper which I found detracted from the taste of the gin (although it was very good with the accompanying cucumber sandwiches!). Just a bit too much going on.

And finally Director’s Cut no 2, a really smoky gin created to celebrate the 350th anniversary of the Great Fire of London which was infused with smoked juniper, Mexican chipotle pepper and lapsang souchong. Being a fan of Islay whiskies this really rocked my boat but again I wasn’t totally convinced by the combination with Merchant’s Heart pink peppercorn tonic and an over-dominant garnish of smoked cardamom and fresh basil.

We were also encouraged to mix our own G & Ts with the standard Portobello Road gin. I went for Merchant’s Heart Floral Aromatics ‘spirit enhancer’ (as one must apparently call them these days) with a garnish of fennel seeds, lemon and thyme which miraculously resulted in something I wanted to drink - a bit of a win for an amateur.

But I also tried a couple that weren’t entirely in my natural register - cranberry tonic with hibiscus flowers and crushed mint and cinnamon tonic with pink peppercorns and coriander and enjoyed both which goes to show that it pays to experiment.

So is there a secret? Obviously it’s a question of personal taste but I’d say the more complicated the gin the less complex your tonic and garnish should be. Leave the fancy tonics to liven up less interesting gins. Or as one of my notes from the evening said. you can turn a gin you like into one you don’t. Be warned!

This would be a great event for restaurants and bars to replicate - or even for you to try at home. For further inspiration visit The Distillery’s bars and ‘Ginstitute’ at 186 Portobello Road. (It also has three rooms if you like to sleep as near your gin as possible.) There’s also a useful little book just out from my publisher Ryland Peters & Small called Gintonica which features a selection of Spanish style gins, matching tonics and garnishes.

As a footnote some of these tonics would make interesting soft drinks though some are a touch sweet for my taste at least. Lots of ice (as should be the case with a gin and tonic) would help.

* which I think must be limited releases as I can’t find most of them in their online shop

How cream can help a fine wine match

It’s become fashionable these days to vilify butter and cream but if you want your wine to shine bring them into play. There’s almost nothing better than a rich creamy sauce to show off a fine white burgundy and whisking a little butter into a red wine sauce will set your Bordeaux off a treat.

The reason, of course, is simple (if unglamourous): fat is palate-coating which means it diminishes the effect of both acid and tannin in wine. It also makes a dish milder and more mellow allowing the character of the wine to shine through.

It can mitigate bitterness or sharpness in other ingredients: creamed or buttered spinach (or spinach combined with cheese or cheese sauce, for that matter) is much easier to match than a side of spinach on its own as is a tomato sauce with a touch of cream.

Compare or contrast

Cream also illustrates the principle of compare or contrast that many people talk about in food and wine matching. An oaked chardonnay has a creamy quality of its own that mimics the creamy quality of a sauce. Or you can go for the contrast of a crisp (but intense) wine that will freshen the pairing. Unoaked Chablis, for example, tastes good with creamy sauces too (especially with ham - a favourite dish from the region).

Cream added to a fruit dessert will also help bring a dessert wine into play. The sharpness of lemon, for example, can often play havoc with dessert wines but with cream folded into or served with the dessert you have many more options.

Buttery sauces like hollandaise or beurre blanc also support heavyweight whites. Meursault for example is a fine match for eggs benedict - if you can face it at that time in the morning! They will however strip the character from lighter, sharper whites - a Pinot Grigio or Albarino won’t benefit from a buttery sauce and vice versa. And a classic French-style purée of potatoes into which lashings of butter has been beaten will make a tannic red taste more mellow.

You’ll also find that the addition of cream, butter or yoghurt can help match a wine to a spicy dish like a curry, diminishing their heat. Kormas, butter chicken and other curries served with yoghurt stirred in or served alongside are all more likely to be wine-friendly. It seems to have a particularly good effect on riesling, accentuating its sweetness and floweriness.

Image ©littleny at fotolia.com

What kind of food should you serve with fine wine?

Most of the time we’re pairing wine and food it’s the food that comes first but for people in the trade it’s more often about what food will flatter the wine. But how do you ensure a successful match?

I went to two top end wine dinners last week which took different approaches to the task. The first a tasting and dinner hosted simultaneously in Brussels, Hamburg and London by the Bureau Interprofessionel des Vins de Bourgogne showcased premier crus, especially Chablis, Meursault and Gevrey-Chambertin.

They decided on a four course menu with effectively two main courses - roast breast of chicken with pearl barley and vegetable risotto to showcase Maison Albert Bichot’s Domaine du Pavillon 2010 Meursault les Charmes and seared rump of lamb with borlotti bean, marrow and confit tomato cassoulet to go with a 2013 Gevrey-Chambertin Clos Prieur from Maison Louis Max.

The first course, which was paired with Nathalie and Gilles Fèvre’s 2010 Chablis Vaulorent was a a dish of very lightly cooked smoked fish with chive and lemon creme fraiche and ‘young leaves and shoots’

Picking out the flavours of the wines

Clearly the thinking had been to come up with pairings based on the flavours that could be found in or which complemented the wines. A trace of smokiness in the Chablis, for example, mirrored that in the fish, the cream offset it and the citrus picked up on the still fresh acidity of the wine. Chicken is invariably a safe bet with chardonnay so they were on solid ground with the Meursault, though the glazed shallot was an imaginative touch which particularly flattered the wine.

Interestingly a similar ingredient appeared in the other dinner, a very glamourous affair hosted in the Berry Bros & Rudd directors’ dining room. Here the caramelized note was provided by the glazed endive that was served in the first course with duck pastrami and crisp little gorgonzola fritters which picked up the rich golden character of the two 2004 burgundies they served, a La Sève du Clos Meursault from Arnaud Ente and a Le Montrachet Grand Cru from Domaine des Comtes Lafon. A particularly bold pairing that could only have come from road-testing the match with the wine or one very similar to it.

Should you save the best wine for the cheese?

Given they had both red burgundy and bordeaux to show off they went for the classic French solution of serving the burgundies - a 1999 Jacques-Frederic Mugnier Chambolle Musigny and a 1999 Gevrey-Chambertin Clos St Jacques from Domaine Armand Rousseau - with the main course (roast saddle of lamb with anchovy, parsley and mint) and the bordeaux with the cheese which I seem to recall, though things were slightly hazy by this stage, were a Rollright, a washed rind cheese made in the style of a Reblochon, a punchy Lincolnshire Poacher and a Shropshire Blue. Personally I found they didn’t really do the wines - a fragile 1945 (NO, that’s not a misprint - 1945!) Clos Fourtet St Emilion and an utterly glorious 1990 Chateau Margaux (for me the wine of the evening) many favours but what do you do? The sort of people who dine at Berry’s (mainly chaps of a certain age, I imagine) no doubt both expect cheese and to drink the best reds in the house with it. Personally I’d rather go with beef or lamb and if I had to serve cheese pick just one but again guests expect a proper cheeseboard, regardless of whether its contents detract from the wine or not. It’s a dilemma.

The burgundies did work beautifully with the lamb however.

Should you serve a sweet wine?

Desserts were also handled differently. Given that burgundy doesn’t produce sweet wine the BIVB didn’t serve anything with the refreshing lemon and honeycomb mousse they picked, which was accompanied by poached fruit, brown sugar meringue and almond brittle. It worked fine - you didn’t really need one - but an alternative might have been to serve a liqueur from the region from someone like Gabriel Boudier.

At Berry Brothers they decided to use the dessert course as a platform to show off a very special port - the Graham’s 90 Very Old Tawny Port that had been specially bottled to celebrate the Queen’s 90th birthday that happened to be that day (what a treat!). They boldly paired it with a chocolate delice with passion fruit curd and ginger ice cream which worked surprisingly well - it was still extraordinarily vibrant - though the cheese - especially the Shropshire Blue - would have worked too.

Apart from the use of caramelisation, one of the other interesting things I noted was the use of bitter ingredients, particularly in the main course lamb dish at the burgundy dinner which included olives, capers and preserved lemon - all of which tend to heighten the fruit in older wines. Other dishes employed anchovy, cavolo nero and rosemary to similar effect. Care was taken though not to overwhelm any of the dishes with over-flavourful vegetables or intense jus which could have knocked the stuffing out of these spectacular vintages.

Ideally you would have a run-through before a dinner of this kind but with old, rare and possibly priceless wines that might well not be possible. The key thing I think is to make sure the chef and front of house team both try the wines being poured with the food so they can consign it to their palate memories for a future occasion.

(Incidentally a neat trick from Berry Bros. They marked both the menu and the glasses with coloured dots so you could remember, in your befuddled state, which glass was which!)

I attended the dinners as a guest of the BIVB and Berry Bros & Rudd respectively.

Main image credit: Kerstin Riemer from Pixabay