The Ideal Vineyard

Perhaps not the best place to plant vines

The ideal vineyard ? Not easy to answer. It would depend on whether an existing vineyard is available or whether the vineyard could be planted from scratch. Some might be tempted to go for a first growth domain in Bordeaux or a mythical Burgundian, Italian, German etc property, and they would not be wrong. These places are the great vineyards of the world and have been recognised as such for centuries at least. So depending on whether you are a Burgundy or a Bordeaux fan the difficulty resides in choosing the best or favourite property. As wine is intensely personal and a matter of taste there would be many ideal vineyards, unless you could ask every wine lover in the word to vote on their ideal. It might be more interesting to look at how one could create an ideal vineyard from nothing and what could be done to achieve the very best results.

What might be needed ? Mountains, hills and slopes. They are picturesque and help drain the vines (they don't like getting their feet wet) and ripen them, as well as protecting them from frost (the cold air rolls down the hill). Soil of course, but this might be any type as long it has plenty of organic matter diverse vegetation and many little creepy crawlies in it. I have a fondness for granite, schist, basalt but any geology as long as it is complex would be ideal. Large pudding stones are tempting, but if you're looking to have a nice slope you will be disappointed as these are alluvial features only found where rivers once ran. Only lime or clay might not produce the complex results I would like. In any case the wine jury is out on whether the soil alone has much influence on the final product. The results are based on the combination of all the factors involved. I would probably steer clear of excessive lime as this has drawbacks in relation to rootstock selection (not sure if I would have grafted vines at all) and vine nutrition.

As to the latitude and the varieties I would choose a cooler (or higher in altitude) rather than a warmer area and choose varieties just able to ripen there.

There is an spot I know just beneath a towering cliff where I would fancy planting syrah and viognier individually staked and creating my own Hermitage or Château Grillet, or perhaps grenache as bush vines. Who knows how good or bad the wines might be. Fantasy vineyard.

Seedlings

Thinking back I can remember that I have always had some interest in plants and how they grow. As a youngster I used to remove the seeds from tomatoes, grapes and melons and plant them in small pots to try to get them to grow. It was difficult to get the grape and melon to germinate in the damp northern clime of Belfast, but tomatoes were happy to oblige and grew but never ripened. At that time people did not grow much in their gardens beyond potatoes (yes, that's Ireland for you) and a few cabbages or lettuces. Melons and grapes appeared very mysterious, at least to me, and so any sign of life from them was a joyous time. I used to prune my mother's rose bushes and sprayed them against aphids (something I would never do now). Roses were the pride of most gardens then and much care was lavished on them - bone meal fertiliser etc, which no other plant was worthy of.

I have also a keen memory of being at one of the big houses of the local gentry with my mother on some kind of business (definitely not a social visit) and being shown the vines in a large glasshouse. Grapes hung temptingly from them. I had never seen grapes on the actual plant before and remember being astounded by the sight of these large climbers heavy with fruit. I don't believe I saw a grape vine again until I went to France many years later. But I was definitely impressed.

Turnips Two Ways

Shoulder of lamb with gratin of turnips and roasted turnips

As promised, some news of how the turnips went. Deliciously as a gratin with double cream, onion and thyme; and also roasted with onion, garlic, thyme and two soupspoons of honey.

Turnips and early flowering

The first Turnips of the season

You don't see many turnips in the shops these days. As with many once common foods they are more likely to feature on the menus of Michelin starred restaurants as purées, than on the plates of the ordinary citizen. It is said that before the introduction of potatoes turnips were once a very important food, providing good carbohydrates fairly early in the season. I shall try them in a gratin this weekend with a shoulder of lamb (our weekly meat-fix) - and will report on the result. These particular turnips found themselves cooked in a couscous, and very good they were too. The wine was a rosé from the Côte Roannaise - L'Enjoleur 2009 from Domaine Robert Sérol.

The turnip may not be inspiring or fashionable but it is a versatile root (a friend suggested roasting them with a honey glaze) and worthy of our attention, just like many other neglected vegetables and wild foods. It is wise to be familiar with them.

A quick aside to comment on the early flowering of vines this year - before Wimbledon, no less ! A long growing and ripening season in prospect for English and Welsh growers. As usual there has been a lot of comment in the press about exceptionally good harvests and brilliant English wines this year. But as the saying goes, there is many a slip twixt cup and lip.

Edo Ergo Sum

Lamb's lettuce, Spinach and Nasturtium flower  salad

I eat therefore I am. I am what I eat. And what I drink. Commentators often refer to the culture of the grape versus the culture of the barley; or  potato v pasta or rice v the rest of the world. Rice wine against whisk(e)y. We seem to like to define ourselves by what we eat; we set ourselves apart and commune with each other in partaking of the food of our country or culture. Terms of abuse often make reference to food allegedly consumed by those we dislike - the Frogs, Cabbage eaters, spud lovers etc. How would one define me, an eater of rabbit food as shown above ? Some sort of food snob or sandal wearing hippy (all above grown by your servant in his garden) ? And what was drunk with this: a Pouilly-sur-Loire 2009 made of grapes from century-old Chasselas vines (Serge Dagueneau et Filles) ? Now that really is foody.

I think I am trying to say that few relationships are more intimate than those we maintain with food. It shapes us both physically and culturally, and to obtain it we have shaped the Earth to to get her to produce what we want, be it in a small garden or in a vast monoculture of wheat, or endless grassland for our domestic animals. Our so called civilisations have always depended on a ready supply of food and have withered and died when it ran out, usually because of some natural 'pest', or exhaustion of the soil.

It has been said that excessive talk of food is the sign of a decadent society destined to be consumed by some impending disaster, that lunch is for wimps. Those who have no choice, eat to sustain themselves, and are not fussy about what is eaten.  My ancestors lived on potatoes but never eulogised about them. But many of them starved when the crop failed. They could have turned to the sea or the hedgerows for nourishment but failed to do this. I could be accused here of making the let them eat cake comment attributed to Marie-Antoinette. I simply make the point that diversity of supply is important. I am not certain that a willingness to talk of food is decadent or frivolous.

Is it not showing respect for food and how it is come by to talk of it ? It is not showing respect for Nature to celebrate her diversity and the multifarious way in which she nourishes us, and also to be realistic about where our food should come from in the future ? It can no longer be considered in terms of vast quantities of 'staples' which nourish humanity. In the future we will be grateful for extremely diverse foods from all available sources, in our fields, gardens, hedgerows and forests. We may not be able to get our fix of fat and sugar as readily as in the past but we will be healthier and put less pressure on the land and on the creatures we must share it with. We will I suspect much happier for it.

Fantasy Vinelands

I often wonder when passing through suitable landscapes what sort of wines might be produced there, or if there are small isolated parcels of vines what they might be able to achieve. In countries like France there are many areas where vines were once widely planted but are now absent or very sparse and I am given to imagining the resurrection of a great terroir. Often you will catch a glimpse of vines in hedgerows, climbing up trees as they do in the 'wild'; they will sometimes be recognisable cultivars but sometimes they will be wild plants, perhaps rootstocks growing unburdened in the countryside.

Vine growing by the roadside

There are some potentially great sites to be discovered. If you ask around you will sometimes find out that vines were planted there pre-phylloxera, or before the rural exodus, and wine was indeed made. Nobody can remember what this wine was like or whether it was any good, but it might have been. That idea has a particular attraction. You can't be proved wrong, unless some intrepid individual takes the plunge, plants a vineyard and sees for him or her self what the results are like.

The great vine lands of England have yet to be discovered, and again there are some intriguing sites. Some day a truly great wine will be made here perhaps benefiting from the effects of climate change. But where this will be is anyone's guess. I would imagine that well exposed former hop gardens would be good candidates for producing high quality ripe grapes. Herbert Hall at Marden Vineyard in Kent, run by Nick Hall comes to mind sited as it is on a well exposed, well drained site. First release of sparkling wine from this estate should be this month. Something to look forward to.