Last weekend a friend sent me a photo of an elderly couple eating in a pub, with two glasses of red wine and a 3/4 full bottle on the table.
It wasn’t a brow raiser till my friend added a text saying “London at 9am”.
As London is a cosmopolitan city, my friend couldn’t tell if that couple was British. By just looking at the photo, it wouldn’t be fair to wonder why the Brits drink so early in the morning. But I once saw a half-drunk bloke drinking beer on a train before 8am in England, even with half a dozen unopened on the seat next to him. I could tell by his mumbling to himself that he was British.
In Italy, wine is usually consumed from lunchtime on. When I was interning at the winery, a colleague who had worked there for many years told me that staff lunch used to come with a small bottle of wine, but this “welfare” had long been cancelled. While in Milan, from my restaurant work experience, although not many people ordered wine at lunch Monday to Friday, there were still an average of two to three tables having wine with their work lunch.
In the evening, Italians do drink. I have an Italian friend who drinks wine every evening. He and his wife empty 4-5 bottles of wine a week. They subscribe to a wine club and receive cases of wine every month, otherwise there’d be a short supply. Wine can be bought in supermarkets, but carrying heavy bottles home is pain. Better have wine piped directly to your doorstep, isn’t it?
In my home, unless for a special occasion, Monday to Friday we usually do not drink wine. Every Saturday about 5 or 6pm, I’d open our wine inventory excel file to see which bottle will go with tonight’s dinner, then take it out of the wine fridge, either to put it into the kitchen fridge, leave it at room temperature, or pour it into a decanter, depending on the type of wine.
But August is an exception.
In August, we flee “Milan the cauldron” to the Alps. August also happens to be the month when Italians go on holiday, so I’m in the mood for wine most days.
Brunello di Montalcino
Last weekend I opened Banfi’s 2015 Brunello di Montalcino (BDM). This wine has been some years now, with the fresh red berry and oregano typical of Sangiovese changing into smoked plum and sophisticated resin.
BDM is located a little further south than Chianti Classico (CC), and its average maximum temperature during the growing season is one degree Celsius higher than in CC (26 and 25 degrees respectively). It is this one degree difference, along with the fact of BDM being less rainy, that makes the wines from CC distinctly different from those from BDM, despite the same grape variety.
The sharpest difference I’ve noticed is the heated tingliness in BDM for being more alcoholic.
For a long time, I’d seen this tingliness as a flaw, as evidence that the alcohol is too prominent to be integrated with other components of a wine such as tannins, acidity and flavours. This time, before I even lifted my glass to taste it, I thought to myself, “It’s going to be the same old heated, tingly thing again.” But right away, another voice told me to calm down and forget about my prejudice. I then tried to pretend I didn’t know this wine at all, and tasted it with an open mind.
It turned out that I found myself a very likeable BDM. Yes, the tingliness was there, but delightful and was in good balance with the wine, perfect to be enjoyed in the cool Alps.
BDM is what it is. No need to compare it to CC. Indeed, by comparing we get to learn better the characteristics of a wine from a certain region and know better what style we’d personally enjoy more. But other than that, we should really treat each wine as an individual. This time, as I shelved my prejudice about BDN, I learnt to appreciate its tingliness. And since each wine is unique and stereotyping it is pointless, who knows if I won’t be encountering a non-tingly BDM anytime soon?
Chenin Blanc
Last October I tasted a Vouvray (made from the Chenin Blanc grape from the cool-climate Loire region of France), with a strong flinty flavour with a hint of lime and apple. Lean and crisp, my favourite wine style. This 2021 Chenin Blanc from Spier Winery in South Africa, which I opened a few days ago, was almost off-dry with gooseberry, passion fruit and a touch of minerality carrying through. Very ripe, full and round. Fair to say this Spier Chenin is a white version of BDM.
If I were to judge the South African Chenin Blanc by Vouvray’s standards, I wouldn’t be too satisfied. But again, I tossed my prejudice and I met a great wine.
Even when given the choice, I’d still prefer a wine from a cooler region, I find that I am becoming less stubborn and more accepting of the opulent style. I now agree that there’s beauty in the opulence of a wine.
Same with people. However flawed one person seems, they must have applausible aspects all the same. It’s not that they don’t exist, but that we are yet to discover them.
