The Gift of Surprise - Rambla 41 Vermouth

The season of gift-giving is over now – or is it? The greatest gifts are not necessarily the tangible items we present each other with at Christmas and birthdays, although these are of course wonderful. Usually. The ‘wooden thing’ I was once given defied all explanation and led to contemplation of the giver’s well-being. Gifts of love, affection, caring and education are some of the real gifts. Priceless, beyond monetary value and often at no pecuniary cost to the generous benefactor. Surprise is another gift, but surprise can come with a sting in the tail. Winning the lottery is probably a surprise; as far as I’m aware no one expects to win it on a given draw. However, heart attacks can also come as a bit of a surprise too, although with slightly more predictability than becoming a multi-millionaire than numbered balls being randomly plucked from a ball-plucking machine. Sometimes.

Rambla 41 Vermouth was a very pleasant surprise indeed. I’m not really one to drink Vermouth in its own right, although at almost homeopathic levels of dilution in gin and served with an olive or 2 (never a twist!) I have been a regular acquaintance. This is no ordinary Vermouth. Not French, not Italian, but Spanish. Not clear, but amber-russet and cloudy. Unusual. I had no idea what to expect, although the notes on the bottle certainly indicate a high level of confidence in the producer. As it turns out, the bouquet is rich; panettone, Christmas pudding and the general zestiness of dried mixed peels together with summer florals. Tasting is to open up another door of surprise and wonder. Sweet orange and lemon to begin with followed by a labyrinth -like complexity of herbs and acidity, following in a long, dry finish. Served on ice, this is a surprise on every step of the journey and one of the most luxurious, if opulent-tasting aperitifs I have yet to encounter.

Of course, to me, and many more I’m sure, Vermouth belongs only in a martini. Or at least that’s what I thought, and when it comes to the brews usually encountered in that most splendid field may well be the case. Would Rambla 41 work in a martini? Maybe, but it’s not something I have tried, and for the moment at least, have no intention of doing so. That may just be a surprise too far.

By this amazing drink from Naked Wines 

Tesco Châteauneuf-du-Pape, a lesson in humility

Remember the slightly awkward kid at school who was actually very good at sport, the scruff who seemed to somehow get all the girls or the party animal who, to the shock of everyone, aced all his exams? You probably do – perhaps you even were one of these ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’ characters. We’ve all heard the expression, and no doubt disregarded it from time to time, resulting in a slightly awkward back-tracking not too long afterwards. Life is full of little lessons like this, lessons which have to be relearnt with sometimes alarming regularity.

I’ve already discussed one supermarket wine – Sainsbury’s Grenache Rosé – and how impressed I was with its overall presence and its ability to complement one of my home-brewed Indian feasts. Yet I managed to catch myself out again! Tesco Châteauneuf-du-Pape this time, the 2012 vintage; a snip at £10 per bottle. Clearly this wasn’t the bargain basement end of the wine shelf, so I would have been extremely surprised if it drank like rancid strainings, but Mr Tesco, you’ve surpassed yourself with this selection. Pierre Martin, the producer has obviously found the Holy Grail of quality at sensible production costs, despite using what we are told are traditional methods. Beautiful is not a bad word to describe this wine. Perhaps not the most effective word for conveying the Middle-Eastern spices, the body, the fruitiness and the finish, or even the delightful nose of stewing rhubarb, but an efficacious word nonetheless. This wine is beautiful.

Why do we so often make the wrong assumptions based on appearances? Conditioning, prejudice, experience and many other reasons I’m sure, but we need to challenge these preconceptions occasionally and watch the spindly boy score the try, then do it again just to prove that it wasn’t a fluke. This wine is just that, causing the raising of that single eyebrow, Roger Moore style, as its full-bodied rubiness caresses your taste buds.

Buy this wine from Tesco 

California Rosé Winemakers Selection Grenache 2012

Some things just feel right, despite appearances to the contrary; that slightly tatty, war-torn and threadbare armchair that just doesn’t fit in with any design scheme yet you couldn’t live without it, the comfortable yet scruffy overcoat that your wife can’t abide or the slightly daft mug you use in the office that your child bought you as a gift. It’s not essential for things to feel right, or for them to adhere to social conventions. Sometimes they just work.

I’d never really thought of trying a rosé wine with a curry before – this particular Indian feast was home-made, right down to roasting and grinding the spices in exquisitely perfect proportions. Or at least in the proportions that were available at the time of roasting and grinding, anyway. Not a particularly hot curry; the need for others to be able to eat it was given due consideration and heat was kept at a crowd-pleasingly moderate level. So here we were – a rosé chilling in the fridge and a curry being served. Why not? Life is for new discoveries, venturing out of the rut even crossing Rubicons from time to time. Although comparing the trying of a new wine pairing to Julius Caesar’s army committing mass insurrection may trivialise major historic events, to me at least this was a pretty major departure.

Sainsbury’s Californian Rosé, made from the Grenache grape (best known for Southern Rhône wines such as Châteauneuf-du-Pape), proved to be a real eye-opener. It is beautifully plummy, rich in fruitiness and berry flavours. It’s slightly sweet, which may not be to everyone’s taste, but trust me, this worked well with a bitter Indian dish. Quite a lot like a mango chutney or similar in fact. This wine is that well-loved item that sticks out as not quite belonging, yet you know that it is perfect at a time when little else will do. The chair, the overcoat or the mug; eyebrows may occasionally be raised but you just won’t care as your happiness has already been assured.

Buy this wine