Never - Unless I'm Thirsty

I love writing about Champagne because it’s all so deeply crazy. On the few occasions I’ve tasted Krug Clos de Mesnil I’ve thought that; a) it’s very good (and can I have some more); and b) if there’s a market for a 500-quid Champagne then somebody will supply it. Silly me. All the time I was pondering the ethics, nay, the morality of such extravagance the Kroogies were beavering away in a tiny vineyard, under the closest conditions of secrecy, to produce a bubbly that makes Clos de Mesnil look like the penny-pinching resort of the preternaturally parsimonious. It costs TWO GRAND!

I haven’t tasted Krug Clos d’Ambonnay yet … nobody’s offered. Meanwhile, it does start to seem as though the rest of the world may be starting to close the quality gap when it comes to fizz. Godammit, people have even started to say the odd nice thing about Cava – even me, even about one or two of the cheap ones. And I do admit to having stopped people in the street to tell them about how fantastic Cava Gramona is a few months ago. Inexplicable shame that it’s still effectively unobtainable here.

It looks like the Italians are getting more serious on the subject too, at least if a very poised and elegant number I had the other day called Cesarini Sforza Spumante is anything to go by.

But however much I may like writing about all things bubblicious I have reconciled myself to the fact that I shall never come up with anything as good as Lily Bollinger’s encomium to her wine. We’ve all read it before, but it’s always worth repeating: “I only drink it when I'm happy, and when I'm sad. Sometimes I drink it when I'm alone. When I have company, I consider it obligatory. I trifle with it if I am not hungry and drink it when I am. Otherwise I never touch it - unless I'm thirsty.”