Published in N16 Magazine – Winter 2005

These are happy days indeed for our park bench pissheads. They’re getting drunker, faster, cheaper than ever before and you know what? Some of the stuff doesn’t even taste too bad.

In terms of bangs for your buck there’s no more competitive sector of the market than the alcohol dependent, so I’ve worked out a handy ‘pence-per-unit’ ratio which you might like to keep by you in case of tough times ahead. As this is a scientific survey, I have used the prices in my local corner shop. They may be somewhat inflated but I reckon that this is where I would be most likely to stagger for my first 10am belter, rather than arrange regular white-van trips to a cash-and-carry near Luton.

It’s not so long ago that such horrors as Thunderbird, Cyprus sherry and VP ‘British wine’ were the staples of the ‘wino list’ and, to put things into context, I sprang £2.99 (27p per unit) for a bottle of the latter – the ‘Medium’, as it styles itself. (Medium what, exactly, is what I’d like to know?) In a spirit of scientific rigour I tried The Bum’s Rush it at park-bench temperature, on the assumption that the outdoor life doesn’t usually allow for much in the way of refrigeration – except at night, I suppose. It has quite a strong ‘nose’ of lime pickle, and that can’t be right, can it? There’s also something there that whisked me back 35 years to some murky liquid that came out of my first chemistry set. I’m glad I didn’t drink whatever it was all those years ago because it might well have tasted something like this – thin, sour and metallic. There’s not much booze that goes down the plug-hole chez Grogans but you wouldn’t make a mud pie with this.

Why would anybody – except me – pay £3.89 for a bottle of Thunderbird at 13% alcohol (40p per unit)? What is Thunderbird, anyway? Why does it smell of melons and taste so horribly chemical and sort of bleachy? I bought the last bottle on the shelf – maybe it’s the last bottle on the planet. Let’s hope so.

Carlsberg Special Brew (27p per unit) has spawned a hundred imitators in the stupor-strength lager category, and I’ve always rather liked the slight whiff of honey and the malty, creamy taste. The sheer weight of alcohol – at 9% it’s the same strength as many a German wine – means it tends to stick in the craw somewhat after the first few tinnies, probably just as well really, isn’t it? Tennent’s Super (25p per unit) has not just the same alcoholic content but something of the floral characteristics of many better German wines as well. It’s cleaner and drier than Spesh but with the same maltiness – rather lovely, really.

It’s almost colourless, almost odourless, almost tasteless, but White Star Cider (19p) will leave you completely legless. It has the alcohol content of a small town and notes of saccharine dissolved in vinegar, but this is it, folks – the cheapest hit out there, the bum’s rush. As for Diamond White Cider (24p), ditto the above – the only difference is the price. Nobody ever drank these because they liked the taste. In fact, did you ever see anybody other than a wino drinking one?

At 30p per unit, Argini Soave 2004 is the cheapest plonk in the place. It’s thin and a bit tart, but it’s really quite refreshing if chilled to near-zero. Clearly, it can’t compete for your last three quid. And when that’s gone don’t even think about Methylated Spirit (2p) – liver damage, blindness and death await you. And it doesn’t taste very nice either.

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Published in N16 Magazine Summer 2005

I’m sure you’ve noticed some welcome new additions to our – already impressive – repertoire of inebriants here in Stokieskaya recently. Our new Baltic buddies are passionate about their beer and they seem to have brought a lot of it with them, certainly if my local offie – the UK Supermarket in Dunsmure Road – is anything to go by.

Of the recent Polish arrivals, Zywiec, which is pronounced something like ‘zuh-vee-etch’ is the daddy and is the only brand yet to have got into the mainstream, as it were – it’s on sale at the Rochester Castle as well as many of the local offies. At around £1.25 (5.6%: all prices are for 500ml) it’s about the cheapest and, although not the best, its restrained, light, dry flavours – think Beck’s for a familiar comparison – is a good introduction to the Polish style, in this case with a slightly chestnutty edge. The beer business is a truly global one these days and Zywiec is owned by Heineken. They also make crisp, clean-tasting Tatra (£1.29: 5.5%) in a pïlsner style which, like all the beers I tried, is seriously refreshing and more-ish when chilled to a point just north of freezing. Their Warka label (£1.49: 5.7%) is altogether a warmer, richer, maltier concoction with golden highlights and a hint of caramel and creaminess.

Lech (£1.29: 5.7%), is not named after the great trades unionist and begetter of glasnost, nor he after the beer, but rather both of them after the legendary founder of Poland. An elegant, pale gold and deceptively light in body, with a hint of sweetness and a really fine, tight mousse, it’s a born leader of men. At £1.39, both Zubra (which means ‘bison’), and Brok (which does not) are both excellent, the former slightly oaty with hints of lychees and the latter with rather refined notes of elderflowers. Tyskie (£1.25: 5.6%) is the biggest seller in Poland, according to their owners SAB Miller, and it’s well-balanced and rounded with a little residual sweetness to balance the hops.

Getting information from the back labels of these beers has not been straightforward, but I have managed to glean some useful nuggets to share with you. To whit: you shouldn’t drink Brok if you’re a pregnant American lady, and most of the breweries are quite old. If you want to know more, ask Pavel who tends bar at the Daniel Defoe. Another factor to bear in mind is that, by some extraordinary co-incidence, the more expensive brands are generally somewhat better than the cheaper ones.

The linguistic difficulties of Polish beer labels are, however, as nought compared to those of Lithuanian varieties, but I was helped along by the nice Ukrainian ladies at Kolos, on the corner of Northwold Road. Also, the brand names have an unfortunate tendency to sound like serious diseases but I can assure you that the only thing nasty about a case of Stipriausias is the alcohol content of 8% (£1.39). I wouldn’t have guessed that from the taste, which is well-rounded and almondish and has only a little of the sweetness of our domestic head-bangers, so I suspect a few bottles would do sterling service as a Mickey Finn.

Gintarnis (as in ‘Gintarnis elbow’) seems to come from the same stable – hopefully not literally – at the same price but is a (relatively) lightweight 4.7% alcohol. It’s not bad, but a little soapy, so given the choice I’d stick with its delinquent big brother. Slightly wheaty in style and a little yeasty to taste, Utenos (£1.39: 5.0%) is very pale and light and while it’s good beer there’s a lot of competition at this sort of price and its main market is going to be homesick Lithuanians.

Ukraine itself is represented by Obolon (£1.09: 5.2%) which is made in Kiev and is rather on the metallic side – not one of the world’s great beers, but as it’s come such a long way we must be nice to it and say it’s quite good value. It would have been good for me if I had remembered that another Polish brand, Redd’s (£1.39: 4.5%), make fruit flavoured beers, as my first big swig of their lemon variety came as a bit of a shock. Having recovered my equilibrium I came to quite like it – it tastes like the best shandy in the world, but without the unfortunate diminution of alcohol content that characterises that drink.

Na zdrowie!

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Published in N16 Magazine – Spring 2003

When I told my wife I was going to taste some of the wines at Yum Yum and Mesclun for this issue, she said ‘On mescaline? That’s nice, dear.’ I’m not sure which is more alarming, her insouciance or the bewildering prospects that flashed before my bleary eyes – a tasting at The Tup on crack cocaine, or a tryout at the Rose & Crown on benzedrine and LSD. Mind you, the permutations could keep me in column inches for years to come. Settling for my usual two-valium-and-a-barley-wine, as peyote seems unavailable in the local area, I pulled on my Afghan and tottered out into the world.

The liquids that swirled into view at Atique Choudhury’s stand-out Thai eatery, YumYum included a Côtes de Provence rosé 2001 from Chateau l’Aumerade. It’s a little timid, but in a doe-eyed, winsome, Turkish Delightful sort of way – it has a nice body and would go with anyone, sorry, I mean anything, for £14.90. Equally come-hitherish is Michel Torino Torrontes 2000 from Argentina’s Cafayate Valley (£14.95) – ripe guavas on the nose transform themselves into a steely, mineral finish. ‘Peppermint’, said His Rabness, who, once again, was in thirsty attendance. ‘Make that a high-pitched, super-green mintiness’, I flounced in reply as synaesthesia set in.

Atique is long established in Stokie, having started out at the much-lamented Spices with none other than Das Sreedharan of the Rasa conglomerate in attendance. He knows his market, and prices are generally modest – this may in part account for the surprising absence from the list of any Alsace wines, or Gewurztraminers, as the good ones don’t come cheap.

A good alternative might be Brown Brothers Late-Picked Muscat 2000 (£4.50 glass / £17.50 bottle) – unctuously sweet with smoky, ripe mangoes and caramel, this has enough body and clout to deal with a face full of chillies. In general I’m not a big fan of red wine with Asian food, but I’ll make an exception for Groot Konstantia Landgoed Pinotage 2000 (£21.50) from South Africa’s oldest estate – founded in 1685, by God. It has a lovely truffly nose and expensively toasty oak to complement the black fruit and cigar-box flavours. If someone else is paying, you could suggest a bottle of Champagne Moutard Cuvée Réserve (£27) which seems to go surprisingly well with the starters – it’s 100% Chardonnay, with that nicely rounded fruit and biscuityness we like so much.

Everything was getting seriously swirly by now, so we staggered through a door into another doorway within a doorway and…into Mesclun. The excellent wines here are largely provided by the knowledgeable Thibault Lavergne, whose Vinothentic operation is, in every sense, locally based. He lives in Stokey but, more to the point, his speciality is in finding small, old-established, family-run domaines making wines by traditional methods. One such is Les Anisses Blanc 2001, a Vin de Pays de Cassan made from Carignan Blanc and Terret (£2.90 glass / £10.50 bottle).

Versatile with food and excellent value for money, this has good length and body and bright, fresh fruit with hints of elderflowers – M. Lavergne suggests greengages in his tasting notes, and, not having tasted one since I was about six, I will defer to his judgement in this important matter. Vinothentic supply a number of Michelin-starred restaurants up West so we’re rubbing shoulders with the quality here, and you can see it in Henri Delagrange’s Bourgogne Aligoté 1999 (£18.00). I didn’t know Aligoté could be this good – fat, toasty and rich with excellent fruit and length – it kicks the majority of upper-end Maconnais and Challonais Burgundies into touch and would be fab with a grilled fish.

The owner Salih also buys wine from a big trade supplier, Enotria, including their classy Pinot Grigio delle Venezie, made by Veritiere, (£14.50) which is bone-dry up front but mellows out with a touch of honey and nougat – or should that be Torrone?

Les Anisses Rouge 2000 (£same as the white) is a smooth and well-made, crowd-pleasing sort of a wine with redcurrant fruit and enough body to stand up to some nice charcuterie or a coarse paté. Domaine Gigondan (£15.50) is not a spelling mistake, but could be, as it’s a spicy, peppery Grenache with all those Garrigue flavours of black olives and thyme and eucalyptus. It’s as classy a Côtes du Rhône as you’ll find and needs big food – a game pie would be good. At £17.50, Chateau Verriere Bellevue 1999 is claret for grown-ups which (probably) won’t break the piggy-bank. It’s made from fruit from 45-year old vines (Thibault knows this sort of stuff) of Merlot and Cabernets Sauvignon and Franc. It’s another big-food wine – roasts or grills would be the thing – with a good tannic backbone, some vanilla, oak and tobacco notes to the nose and ripe bramble and prune flavours. So we called out for another drink, and the waiter brought a tray …

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