1989-90 Sweet Loire with Jancis Robinson, MW
It's not often one gets to taste 29 25 year old wines in the company of the world's top wine writer: it's even rarer if these wines originally cost between £8.50 and £23.99 a bottle! But at 10.30 on Saturday morning I sat down to taste six flights of sweet Loire wines from the two vintages of 1989 and 1990, widely acclaimed in the region to be the finest since 1947. Here are some conclusions.
First, by modern standards many of these wines were not that sweet: Moelleux wines in the Loire then tended to 30-45 grams of residual sugar per litre, and whilst many wines in these two super hot years obviously showed a lot more than that, many of the wines would now be classified as demi-sec - although none the worse for that (Deletang's 1990 Mountlouis Les Batisses, Moelleux was brilliant in this vein, silky, spicy and long). Chenin's best quality is to keep acidity even in picked very late. As a result no-one present was overwhelmed by sugar and some wines were delighfully refreshing for bottles a quarter of a century old.
Second, there was no question that the three flights of 1990s were both more consistent and more interesting than the 1989s. Two reasons? In 1990 there was more botrytis and that gave more marmaladey richness and complexity to many of the year's best wines; and perhaps the growers' winemaking was more assured with one hot vintage already under their belts (some had also invested in refrigeration as well). Charles Sydney, the English courtier resident in the Loire, had told me that 1989 was the last of the old vintages, when the quality of the wines was determined only by the weather, as opposed to 1990 as the first of the new, where improved viticulture and winemaking became more significant, and this tasting bore that out.
Third, honours were pretty evenly split between Vouvray to the east of Tours and the Coteaux du Layon south west of Angers: wines from the the former were perhaps more subtle, and had less disappointments, but Quarts de Chaume also came up trumps: the 1989 Domaine de Baumard Quarts de Chaume (quince and honey, rich and powerful); the 1990s from Pierre-Bise (Claude Papin's first vintage of QdC, toffee and oranges, unfolding superbly); and Chateau de Fesles (bittersweeet, textured and energetic, with mineral and sandalwood hints). Matching them for complexity, quality and longevity - some of these wines have at least another ten years in them - if not sweetness, were Huet's 1989 Le Haut Lieu Moelleux 1er Trie (all ripe pears, lime, honey and beeswax); Domaine des Aubuisieres Vouvray Selection Grain Nobles of 1990 (really ripe and honeyed, candied oranges cut by fine acid) and Champalou's 1990 Vouvray Cuvee Catherine (concentrated, caramelly yet with a floral accent).
On the down side, we had one bottle badly corked, one bottle a little musty and several oxydised, including two of the four Huet wines on tasting - which was disappointing but not surprising in my experience. This tasting is probably totally impossible to replicate, short of begging for a lot of bottles in the Loire (our current growers, Domaine des Forges and Pierre-Bise very kindly sent samples), as this collection, including many tiny production special cuvees, was assembled in the 1990s. This extraordinary morning concluded with a really wonderful lunch at The Portland (just one highlight alone worth a detour - intensely fungal white truffle macaroons), the recently starred restaurant run by Jancis Robinson's son, Will Lander. So hats off to the Robinson / Lander clan for a pretty amazing event!
Laithwaite’s – Boutique Wines at everyday prices ?
It’s a quiet Saturday in August, the sun is shining, few will come to the shop, so there’s time for a meditative review of one of the UK’s largest wine businesses, Laithwaites (and for those who don’t know already, Laithwaite’s also owns Avery’s and runs just about every wine club you might have heard of, e.g. Sunday Times, British Airways, National Trust, etc. etc.). Laithwaite’s tale of growth - from Tony Laithwaite bringing back a van load of wine from France in 1969 to a huge wine business operating in several countries today - is amazing. One should be proud of this great British success story….
….BUT (there’s often a large BUT in an SVS blog) this blog was prompted solely by the appearance through my letter box at home of their latest offer trumpeting “Boutique Wines at everyday prices” (and everything in quotation marks below comes from this brochure or their website). I was piqued. Leaving aside the actual desirability of “boutique” wines – as so many tend to be over-made, over-priced wines owing more to the pretensions of some rich owner than the land on which the vines are grown - this is an absurd claim. “Boutique” has no legal status in the world of wine but it does imply small-scale and precious. In Australia the rules of the Association of Boutique Winemakers are clear: “A Boutique wine company is one which crushes and bottles 250 ton or less annually under its own label and is owned independently, i.e., not owned by a larger wine company”. Well, as to the precious idea, ignoring the discount in the Laithwaite’s brochure, the average bottle price of the wines featured, is, in theory (for more of the “in theory” part, please see below) over £9.00 a bottle, not really boutique territory when it comes to wine.
Anyway, investigation followed, and as I researched more, I got tetchier…
First, the selling pitch is based on claims that “boutique” wineries are “queuing” to work “so closely with wine drinkers”, with, wait for it, “no middlemen, no money wasted on expensive marketing”. Umm, what exactly is Laithwaite’s but a middle man? And whilst it’s good news of course, that these humble peasants are spared all this marketing effort, it’s bit rich to imply this cost has vanished given that Laithwaite’s spends squillions every year on marketing in advertising and sponsorship! Incidentally the idea that the Laithwaite’s customers are “helping…wineries to keep costs down by ordering together” is a shameless rip-off of the more innovative Naked Wines philosophy (and it does seem a bit unfair to steal Naked’s clothes!).
So who exactly are these “talented winemakers struggling along selling a few cases at a time to restaurants and private clients”, these guys who are making “handcrafted wines at remarkable prices”, pathetically grateful to Laithwaites for so graciously taking “the lot in one go”, thus enabling them to have “more time to make great wine”? The briefest perusal of the brochure comes up with these: Vina Tarapaca in Chile, part of the VSPT wine group, Chile’s second largest wine exporter; Franschhoek Cellars, a former co-operative and now part of DGB (which was Douglas Green Bellingham) in the Cape, producing a very unboutique 8,000 tons, equal to 560,000 cases a year; Martinez Bujanda in Rioja, with over 200 hectares of vineyards; Mcpherson wine with 225 hectares in Australia; and Luis Felipe Edwards, the largest family owned winery in Chile, who somehow make ends meet by picking every last grape on their 1850 hectares and exporting to 70 countries. (Just to put this in perspective, many of the growers we buy from in France and Italy make wine from less than 10 hectares of vines, and Frank Balthazar in Cornas has just 2.25!). Doesn’t one’s heart bleed for these impoverished, time-poor souls, and applaud Laithwaite’s philanthropy in saving them. Laithwaite’s say they are selling wines “made in quantities too small for the supermarkets”, but when you claim to have 100,000 thirsty customers and a turnover of £300m it’s quite hard to supply them without going to the big boys of the wine world.
Next, the pricing: I examined one case of the twelve on offer in the brochure, no. 9, Pinot Grigio and Friends. This cases includes two bottles of each of four Pinot Grigios - from Romania, Hungary, Australia and Italy - plus a Chenin Blanc (from the Franschhoek Cellars mentioned above) and an Italian blend. The headline printed price is £105.49. (I accept the brochure is three weeks old, but when I totted up the bottle prices of the wines on their website in the case I came to £101.88). But the idea that these particular bottles are worth an average of £8.79 is ludicrous. C’mon guys…. eastern European Pinot Grigio, making up a third of the case, is just NOT boutique wine in either style or price!
Then there’s the exclusivity claim - your chance to taste “wines not otherwise seen in the UK!”. Wow, lucky you. The reason these wines are not otherwise seen in the UK is that they are specially made, in some cases in Laithwaite’s own winemaking facilities in France and Australia, and labelled solely for Laithwaite’s (and their numerous affiliate clubs). This is very bad for two reasons: the obvious downside is that they can control pricing and make sure price comparison is impossible. (When you do find a wine on their website which is available elsewhere Laithwaite’s look expensive. For example Guigal’s white Cotes de Rhone is £13.99 on their site, but available from the Wine Society at £9.95 or widely available from independents at £11.95). But, far more serious, if Laithwaite’s are controlling what goes in the bottle, you aren’t necessarily getting a wine with authenticity and local character (god forbid it should be unfiltered and have sediment in it, as that might lead to complaints and refunds): you will be getting a safe, boring bottle for MOR taste.
Then there are the names and brands. I am all for making wine names accessible and demystifying wine, but is it helpful to have Romanian wines branded Paris Street? Surely someone casually looking at the bottle might just think it was from France - or is that the idea, duh? Or Spanish wines sold under Lime Leaf, Silver Route and Cherry Orchard? When it comes to Italy the highly paid branding team at Laithwaite’s must have been giggling as they dreamed up catchy names. Basically they like to add an O to the end of english words - so Laithwaite’s purvey wines called Massivo, Il Bruto and Visionario. Can anyone take this seriously? Somehow I just can’t see someone with boutique wine aspirations naming their wine Massivo. Why stop there – may I propose Diluto for a light dry white, and Ruffo for a rustic red?
Then there’s the hyperbole. Do their copywriters really believe that the 2013 Orange Grove Chardonnay from Spain at £5.99 is “world class Chardonnay”? Do they get out much? Do they actually drink wine at all?
Then there are the introductory discounts - £50 in the case of the brochure I received. This would enable me to buy a case of wine with free delivery at £4.39 a bottle, with two free glasses thrown in. It’s a great deal by any standards, but if I send that siren coupon in there are consequences. I will get another case 12 weeks later, if I forget to cancel, without that great discount; and I will be subject to warm-calling if I don’t order more, by a huge team of client advisers trained to push particular wines; and if I still don’t order my name will be transferred to another branch of their organisation who will also send me their lists. Finally, if you do give them the feedback they request, then, google-like, their algorithms will ensure you are pushed more and more of the same. Returning that coupon is like signing your palate away to the vinous devil.
Laithwaite’s is a great business, with thousands of happy customers. I have tasted lots of perfectly good (if often unexciting) wines from them, and they work with plenty of excellent partners – Luis Felipe Edwards in Chile being a good example. But if the gap between the claims made in the “Boutique wines at everyday prices” brochure and the reality of their business can’t be investigated under the Trade Descriptions Act, at least it can be challenged by someone who genuinely does work with small growers. Just as they have cynically adapted their marketing spiel to make Laithwaite’s look more like Naked Wines, their fast growing challenger - “Together it’s easy” it says on the front of their brochure - so they shamelessly continue to pretend that they are supplying small production wines from artisanal growers. When we started SVS over a decade ago, one customer was kind enough to describe us as the “the new Adnam's”. I took that a compliment, given Simon Loftus’s great ability to seek out interesting wines. I am glad to say no-one has ever called us the new Laithwaite’s. But then I could just be jealous of that £300m turnover….