Like many soldiers, my old friend is a life-enhancing character. Whenever he phones up and says ‘Need your help’, one’s spirits rise. The help always seems to involve pleasure. This time was no exception. He was long on some young-ish wine, and wondered whether a few cases ought to be redeployed via the sale-room. In his comfortably stocked cellar, I reminded him that Andrew Lloyd Webber used to say ‘Goodnight, boys’ as he switched out the lights on his magnificent collection of Rhône. This had aroused ridicule — perhaps even a mention in Pseud’s Corner — but I could see the point. A great cellar is an epiphany. It almost invites a salutation.
My companion agreed, though insisting that he had no plans to speak to his more modest array. ‘There was one epiphanic moment in my career,’ he went on, ‘though nothing to do with wine. I had been commanding the Regiment for about three years and I’d got them as I wanted them. We were on exercise and under canvas. Unusually, I couldn’t sleep, so I had a stroll round the lines at about 4 a.m. Everything was as it ought to be. I knew that if I had to take them into action tomorrow, they’d let no one down. I also knew that tomorrow, 600 faces would be looking in my direction: “What mood’s the old man in today?” — not that I think I was a moody old so-and-so. But I just felt so moved by those quiet rows of tents: felt certain that professional life had nothing better to offer.
‘I also knew that in a month’s time, I’d be handing over command. There’d be a promotion to full colonel; there might even be a gong [there was]. But I’d be in Whitehall, commanding a coffee-pot and a photocopier, cricking my neck as I looked upwards to the vertical mountain of brass above me. What did the future hold? I’d probably end up in charge of cutbacks. It came to me with the force of revelation that it was time to be off.’
I reminded him that he had not done badly in business: unlikely that he could have afforded this cellar, however many stars he had ended up with. For a moment, he almost became military again. ‘Time to stop this senescent maundering and start drinking.’
We started with a couple of Chateauneufs, the 2007 and the 2008, both from the Versino family, both excellent: lots of fruit and tannins. They were in the modern idiom, as opposed to the monsters of yesteryear, which had inspired Hemingway to write that Chateauneuf was not a lunchtime wine. We agreed that they would be ready to start drinking in two or three years but would last for at least 20 or 30.
The next bottle was disappointing; then again, even with his wife’s assistance, we were no longer in prime tasting condition. We addressed a 2005 Haut-Marbuzet. Although there was nothing wrong with it, there was not nearly enough right with it. We had expected more power and class. Was it a slightly inferior bottle, or had it merely retreated into itself? It is not unusual for serious clarets to interrupt their development by going to sleep for a couple of years: sometimes longer. We concluded that it should be left undisturbed until Easter 2014, when it could parade for re-inspection.
Other Festivals of the Church need more urgent attention. Jeroboams have an excellent offer this Christmas. My palate was caught by a Pouilly-Fumé, Domaine de Riaux, and a Pouilly-Fuisse, Domaine Christophe Cordier — both 2011, both well-made, pleasing wines which do everything they should. There was also a 2011 Ch. Pavillon Beauregard, Lalande de Pomerol. For British drinkers, it could do with a long time in the decanter. The Frogs would quaff it from the bottle and not understand how anyone could complain. It will keep. So would a Georges Vesselle Brut Paraphe Champagne. A bargain at just under £20, it would be excellent both as an aperitif and much later on, for a bonne bouche. Bon all round.
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