I am a wine snob.
I am not entirely sure when it started. I think it may have been when I met my partner four years ago, the man who successfully introduced me to the world of red wine. It may well have been before then (however my track record of drinking warm Black Tower rose aged sixteen probably discredits this theory), but I know for certain that at that point I began to decide exactly what I would and wouldn't drink.
As the years have passed, I have been lucky enough to hold jobs which have taught me how to differentiate good wines from bad ones, how to properly taste wines and how to identify complementary foods. These endeavours have been informative, illustrative, illuminating and occasionally illness inducing.
I can pinpoint the exact moment when I realised the extent of my snobbery. Attending a wedding in the summer of 2014, my partner and I decided to try the house red which was to be served with our meals. I shall not name the wine, or the venue, out of decency and respect to those involved in what was otherwise a very pleasant day. All I will say is that the moment I sipped this disgusting beverage, I realised that I may very well never drink wine again. Acrid, tannin-heavy, deep purple liquid swished through my palate and sliced it with an unsharpened bread knife of violation. My mouth dried up like a raisin at the merest drop of this poor excuse for alcohol. Distraught, knowing that my starter and main courses were both red meat and perfect partners for red wine, I glanced towards the white option praying for salvation. To my horror, I saw the words "oaked Chardonnay" printed upon the bottle's label, and an old fear rose up my damaged gullet as I remembered the last time I drank an oaked Chardonnay (another story for another time).
Options raced through my panicked brain - should I choose spirits? No, poor choice. I would be legless before the speeches, paralytic by the first dance, and asleep by the band's break. Okay, perhaps cider or beer then. But a feminine caution of gassy bloats niggled at the back of my mind; remember you're already held into your beautiful dress by a complex yet innovative combination of fat pants, control top tights and a strange bra which sucks in all the underarm fat evil somehow. More than a pint would surely cause me to expand rapidly, sending a zip flying into the eye of the father of the bride and the elastic of my pants would snap and give me whiplash. Nope, carbonated beverages were out of the question. I would instead brave the wine list in a last-ditch attempt to save myself whilst not being the sober one at a table where I only knew two people.
The wine list was far from extensive. I had the choice of the house red, something German dubious served in a box (more on my bias against German wines will be inevitable at a later date), and then I saw it. A heavenly name shining out in its dark font from the embossed, cream paper. "Fleurie, France." I am positive my heart skipped a beat. French reds are probably my favourites, and I know that a Fleurie is a strong choice. Eagerly, I asked the barman for a bottle, and pulled my debit card from my purse to purchase it. Funny how there was no price on the menu, but oh well.
My partner could tell from my shell-shocked expression, after I had bypassed the Toastmaster and found my way to our table, that all was not well.
"Everything alright, sweetheart?"
"The wine was £33.50," I murmured in reply. His eyes widened in surprise. Whilst not being a frugal person, I am not known for spending that amount of money on a single item. Prior to the purchase of this bottle of wine, the most money that I had personally spent on a single item was £50 on a dress from Laura Ashley which was in the sale. This bottle of wine was truly record-breaking. So much so that I have actually kept the card receipt from shame and disbelief.
Reflecting on this experience recently, I have decided to embark on an odyssey of wine tasting. I have some core questions which I feel require answering;
- Is there such a thing as "too cheap"?
- Which wines are best for a budget?
- How do cheaper wines stand up to the giants of the form? (By which I am referring to brands such as Blossom Hill, Hardy's and Gallo Family as examples)
- Does cost actually matter?
Through the next few months, I shall be focussing on various wines from a variety of regions, countries and price ranges, looking for that most elusive of all wines: the cheapest acceptable dinner party wine.
Bottoms up!
