The Last Vineyard

A picture of a vineyard in a wine blog – that’s not so unusual.  But look closely and you’ll see a pavement in front of this one and aren’t those church towers behind the white building?  Yes, this vineyard is right in the middle of a major city – and the flag on the other building gives it away; this is in Paris and the vineyard is in the famous (some would say infamous) artists’ haunt of Montmartre. (Thanks to the Vineyard website for the picture).

A couple of centuries ago, there were vineyards all over the steep hills of this part of Paris, many owned by the Abbesses of Montmartre.  But, by the 1930s, all the others had been uprooted and built upon, just this one remained.  It was only saved by the efforts of a group of dedicated local residents who occupied the area and persuaded the city authority to stop the builders from grubbing it up and developing the site.  In fact, Paris did more than that; they now run the vineyard and the grapes harvested each year are pressed and stored in the cellar of the local town hall!  Every year, in October, it is one of the duties of the Mayor of the locality to organise a Wine Festival where the wine produced (usually only about 1500 bottles) is sold at auction for charity.

Sadly, when we visited last week, the harvest was over and all the bottles had been sold, so there was no chance to taste, but, if you’re ever in Paris, this tiny green space in the heart of Montmartre is well worth a look.

The Greek Grape

We recently enjoyed a bottle of Triplica’s Greco di Tufo.  The name of the grape variety, ‘Greco’, translates to ‘Greek’.  So where do you think our wine came from (apart from Majestic Wines, of course, a great buy for £9.99)?  If you gave the obvious answer – Greece – then think again.  It’s from the southern Italian region of Campania, in the volcanic hills above Naples where, according to the ‘Oxford Companion to Wine’ (aka the wine lover’s bible), almost all of the roughly 1000 hectares (2500 acres) of Greco planted in the world can be found.

So, if it’s an Italian variety, why call the grape ‘Greek’?  For the answer, you need to go back more than 2500 years, when the ancient Greeks were a major trading power and made the short hop across the Ionian Sea to land in southern Italy.  Naturally, they wanted familiar tipples and so brought their native grapes with them – among them, a variety that, over the years, has become the grape we now know as Greco.  Strangely, there seems to be no evidence of the same variety in modern Greece.

The wine itself may come as a surprise to those who expect the Mediterranean climate to produce full-bodied, ripe, high alcohol wines.  This is not like that at all.  The volcanic soils and the altitude at which the grapes are grown in the foothills of the Avellino Hills have resulted in a wine with a delicate pale straw colour with hints of green, fresh herbs, red apples and ripe pears on the nose and palate and a refreshing crisp acidity. Unoaked and beautifully balanced, perhaps my only criticism is that it finishes slightly short (but you can’t have everything for under £10).

Not a wine for keeping but enjoy now, either on its own or with light pasta dishes, a risotto or, if the weather stays as it has been for the first few days of September, a salad or even a picnic.

A Birthday Celebration

How do you celebrate your 230^th birthday?  If you are Averys, the Bristol wine merchant, there is only one way: with a tasting hosted by Mimi, the 5th generation of the Avery family to be involved in the business.  Featuring several of Averys’ own-label wines alongside some bottles that marked notable ‘firsts’ in the company’s – and the UK wine industry’s – history, this was an evening not to be missed.

Mimi gave a delightful and very personal insight into her family’s past; her grandfather, Ronald, was among the first British wine merchants to visit growers in France and Germany, making his own selection of wines to sell.  After the 2^nd World War, his trip to the Pomerol region of Bordeaux resulted in the discovery of the then unknown Château Pétrus, now one of the world’s most expensive wines, which Averys were the first to import into the UK.

John, his son and the 4^th generation of the family, continued this pioneering spirit.  He introduced the British public to quality Australian wines, including the iconic Penfolds Grange, and was also first to sell wines here from New Zealand in 1972 – a year before the first Sauvignon Blanc vines were planted in the Marlborough region.  During the evening, we celebrated these firsts, accompanied by delicious matching cheeses; the light, fragrant Invivo Pinot Gris representing New Zealand (£16.99), the typically minty, blackcurrant-fruited Yalumba ‘The Cigar’ Cabernet Sauvignon from Australia’s Coonawarra region (£25) and the smooth, elegant Château Chantalouette from Pomerol (£29).  Sadly, Pétrus is beyond the price range of even celebratory tastings these days!

But, delicious as all these were in their varying ways, I look elsewhere for my personal wine of the night.  Von Buhl’s Ungeheuer Riesling from Germany’s Pfalz region (£34) was a wonderful, intense, complex dry white (although, as with many Rieslings, it actually smelt as if it would be sweet) with excellent length and a long, satisfying life ahead of it.  Despite this, it is drinking well now and made a perfect aperitif to share with some good friends a few days later.

It’s hard to overstate the influence Averys have had on the British wine scene, particularly over the last century, but the tasting and, especially the glimpses Mimi gave us into the family archives, allowed us to raise a glass to 5 generations of the family and to look forward to more exciting discoveries, hopefully before another 230 years pass by.

Ungrafted vines – revisited

Some time ago, I wrote a blog titled “Ungrafted Vines: A Taste of History”. It has since become the most read of all my blogs. Even now, 21 months later, several people every week hit on it. So, perhaps, it’s time to revisit a topic that’s clearly of interest to many of you.

Firstly, what do I mean by an ungrafted vine? It’s a vine where the whole plant – including the roots – is a single entity. You might think that all vines are like that, but most vines used for the wines we drink today are not – and we need to look back over a hundred years for the reason why.

In the 1860s, phylloxera, a microscopic bug that attacks vine roots and eventually kills the vine, was found in a vineyard in southern France. Over the following four decades or so, it spread quickly and devastated many vineyards in Europe and beyond. At the time, no-one knew what it was or how to deal with it. It was feared that the world’s entire wine industry would be wiped out. The cause of the problem was finally identified in the 1880s, but the solution took far longer to discover.

Phylloxera came to Europe from America where the native vine has developed resistance, but the European vine, which is genetically different, has not, so all our familiar varieties are vulnerable to attack. One solution considered was to plant American vines in place of European, but the wine they produced was not found to be of the same quality.

Fortunately, it was eventually realised that, by using the roots of an American vine and grafting (attaching) a European vine to them, you could have wines from Chardonnay, Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot or whatever and protection from phylloxera. Problem solved!

So what about ungrafted vines? There are a few places in the world where you’ll still find them. They are either so remote from other vineyards that the bug has never spread there or the soil is very sandy (which the bug doesn’t like). Parts of Chile, a small area of Portugal and parts of Cyprus are among the places you’ll find that little bit of history – a vine that is a single entity from tip to root, but everywhere else, grafted vines are the only way to produce the wines we like.