Rosés to share in the sun, CabFranc on the go, and a Malbec not to be wasted on a stag do
Illustration by Charlotte Trounce
I f you walk down Hatton Garden in central London, you will encounter a slew of jewellery shops, a Pret, one Dickensian pub down an alleyway. You might also witness the occasional brawl, the semi-regular police horse appearance, and the offshoots of the hectic food market one road over. If you are lucky you will also spot some bookish types scuttling along the pavement, almost certainly on their way to work in the NS offices.
It was a rare treat, in recent weeks, to have some great wine to share with the aforementioned bookish types. First, thank you to the jauntily named Yapp Brothers for sending over six bottles for us to try. In a feat of modesty and temperance, the case sustained the NS for the best part of two weeks.
One languid Friday and the atmosphere on Hatton Garden was like a Tennyson play – stifling, on edge, soporific. It felt only right to decant the 2024 house rosé into tumblers and hand them out in the office. It had been chilling since the morning and was a nice colour, not exactly pale but thankfully not lurid Ribena either – a fairly standard Grenache and Merlot blend.
Rosé, more than its red and white counterparts, is a context-dependent beast. Just how fish and chips are best enjoyed in view of the sea (rather than under a bridge on the M25, say), rosé should be enjoyed as an aperitif sur la terrasse along the Mediterranean. Well, how about in a fluorescently lit office in Farringdon with an NS associate editor, commissioning editor and business editor? No match for the romance afforded by the vesperal light of the French Riviera… but we thought it worked great: light, unobtrusive, red fruits with an ever-so-barely-there touch of minerality. Keeping rosé on ice on a sunny Friday isn't standard procedure here. But maybe it should be.
Later, we found ourselves on the Central Line on our way to east London for drinks in a colleague's garden (how collegiate!). Stuffed in one bag was the Domaine des Oullières 'Harmonie' Blanc 2024, a Provence white enjoyed as we perched on garden furniture in the sun (a fate unfortunately denied to the rosé). This is a Vermentino heavy blend (Sauvignon Blanc makes up the rest). It's good, not particularly light but fragrant and… was that fennel? The real heads will tell you something like this is best served with seafood. I found it just as successful with takeaway pizza. High, low, and all that. Also stowed in our bags was the 2021 Château Fouquet from Saumur, pure Cabernet Franc and – as the merchants recommend – better enjoyed CHARLOTTE TROUNCE with a bit of age. Cab Franc has a tendency towards the vegetal. But no such problems here.
Meanwhile, we had packed another NS staffer off to a stag do in Brighton that evening, screw-top Malbec in hand (touch of class…). It came with good reviews, in the only way a Malbec like that can come with good reviews: jammy, uncomplicated, probably good for a stag do.
Fast-forward a few days and I received a wonderful text from the arts desk at 7pm on a Tuesday. 'Is there wine here and can we have it,' they wrote to me, before promptly following up with a simple: 'It's urgent.' I have good news for you, arts desk: yes… and yes! They picked out a 2021 Côtes du Rhône and sent me the tasting notes over WhatsApp: peppery, woody, spicy. This is just as you might expect from a wine with this spec. And they told me it was delicious, just as you might expect from a wine with this spec.
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At some point in 2023 – bear with me – something strange happened: a sweet, pale green leafy vegetable by the name of hispi cabbage took over every menu in town. And almost out of nowhere, hispi was general all over London. I contend that viniculture's hispi counterpart is Picpoul de Pinet: it burst on the scene and asserted itself on the wine lists of London's middlebrow restaurants with great, almost admirable, force. It's ubiquitous: few can explain why. But what I can tell you is that the Picpoul in this case is a very good example of the form: citrussy, saline, easy going. And so, there is the New Statesman's editorial staff's whistlestop tour through this selection. Good for parties in the garden, urgent office emergencies, slow and hot Fridays on Hatton Garden, stag dos in Brighton. I think the word for that is versatile.
By Finn McRedmond
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