Queen Victoria wasn’t quite halfway through her interminable reign; “Far From the Madding Crowd” was selling well at Hatchards and Winston Churchill had his big, baby face at his mother’s breast.

1874 was the year and the gathering one day of a “committee of gentlemen” at the Albert Hall marked the establishment of a co-operative company the sole purpose of which would be to purchase wines in “unadulterated condition,” direct from the producers, and offer them to the membership at the lowest possible price.

The boskily be-whiskered witnesses to the birth of the Wine Society wouldn’t be in the least surprised that, in its 137th year, it should have added a Hungarian Cabernet Franc and a Ciliegiolo (I’m saying nothing – you can look it up in my book!) to its range of wines and be celebrated by the National Retailer Awards as their `Portuguese Wine Retailer of the Year’.

“100 years ago we were selling Californian Zinfandels and wines from Australia and one called `Boujas’ from `Asia Minor’ alongside the Musignys and Chambertins and Lafite,” says Sebastian Payne MW, the Society’s long-serving chief buyer. “One of the `Objects of the Society’ established by the founders all those years ago was `To introduce foreign wines hitherto unknown or but little known in this country’ and we’re still doing that today.” He’s right of course, and one of these days I must get to grips with the Cour-Cheverny (made from the romarantin grape, as if anybody needed reminding).

The demutualisations among the building societies and other co-operative organisations saw a few changes to protect the Society from the threat of takeover but otherwise the structure remains as it has always been. Membership involves buying a single share in the company (for £40, and a bequeathable asset) and anyone can join – the Secretary will `propose’ those who lack the acquaintance of an obliging member to perform the same office. “Today’s members are a pretty mixed bunch – we’ve always had lots of doctors since the days when the original offices were behind Harley Street, plenty in the arts, a royal,” notes Payne. Indeed one of those doctors – father of my then fiancée – was responsible for my own Eureka! moment with wine. It was a Sancerre, I’m tolerably sure the cuvée `Les Roches’ from the excellent Vacheron, and it had – alongside the usual quality of being an efficient inebriant – the hitherto unknown one of being completely delicious.

Sampling their wines I am always struck by their faithfulness to their origins – “typicity” in winespeak. In short, they do exactly what they say on the tin. Any neophyte wanting to satisfy themselves about quite what characteristics distinguish, for example, a New Zealand Pinot Noir from a Chianti Classico or a Beaujolais need look no further than the mixed cases of “The Society’s” and, better yet, the premium “Exhibition” ranges. The Kiwi Pinot will be all about bright, jammy, black cherry fruit, while the Italian cherries will be red and have that subtle bitterness and crunch which finishes with something almondy. The Beaujolais – especially if it’s the “Exhibition” Juliénas from the drop-dead gorgeous 2009 vintage – will be as giddy and Turkish-delightful as you could wish a `Beauj’ to be but it’ll have depth and a serious side too, as befits one of the big sisters of the 10 crus of the appellation.

There are 1,000-odd wines, so it’s hard to do more than scratch the surface but a handful of whites make the point. The Society’s White Burgundy is a painfully-researched perennial favourite which glives a glimpse round the door of Burgundian glory for £7.50. Léon Beyer’s Alsace Sylvaner is another substantial everyday white that is hard to beat anywhere for £7.95. I’ll be happy with Fefiñanes fantastic Albariño £14.95 for the time being while I wait and hope that they get some more of Allende’s White Rioja 2007 (I think it was £18) – my favourite Spanish white. If I’m pushing the boat our for something with pud it’ll be hard to resist Château de Fesles Bonnezeaux (£27/50 cl) for its perfection of mineral-boned, Apple Charlotte essence.
Wonder what they’ll be selling in 2148?

 

Published in The Daily Telegraph 12/ 18/2006

Vinho verde, the characteristic young wine of northern Portugal, is under-appreciated outside its home. But that’s changing, says Peter Grogan

The “green” in the title refers to youth rather than colour. But there is no doubt that vinho verde is big in Portugal.

Massive, in fact. In the average wine aisle of a British supermarket you will find 500-odd different wines. Imagine, if you will, 3000 bottles in a Portuguese supermarket, every single one of them a different vinho verde.

And then there are uncounted millions of bottles filled with cloudy, still-fizzing wine from the taps of all those gleaming vats that don’t come into the reckoning and, in any case, seldom travel further than the end of the lane.

A few minutes’ drive out of Oporto and the vines that stripe the countryside of the Minho region start to appear. “In late summer the sight of the grape-bearing garlands along every road gives almost pagan pleasure,” wrote Hugh Johnson in the 1970s.

Aside from the stainless steel vats, the basic production methods, at least at the domestic level, would be recognisable to the pre-Christian inhabitants of the region.

The grape varieties grown for vinho verde (which sounds like “been-yo-beard” pronounced with a light Scots burr) are not much travelled themselves. The main varieties are the laurel-scented loureiro, the charismatic trajadura and the crisp arinto.

Alvarinho is the only vine to have upped sticks, but only across the Spanish border into Galicia, where it is known as Albariño. Back in the Minho, it is the principal grape variety in the district of Monção, where it makes arguably the finest, if not the most characteristic, vinho verde.

The squeamish export market, frowning on the cloudiness and the fizz, has required that the “better” wines have their rough edges smoothed off but, refreshingly, some of the less improved varieties have spirited themselves on to those supermarket shelves.

Very little wine of poor quality gets past my wife. Presented with a glass of non-vintage Morrisons vinho verde, poured from its irredeemably naff bottle, she was sceptical.

But the scintillating little bubble and fresh acidity which Hugh Johnson found “so marvellously refreshing” worked their magic, and Mrs G deemed it an excellent spritzer. I, for my part, agreed with Johnson that “it’s all too easy to gulp it like beer on a hot day.”

The cordial relations between England and Portugal, enshrined in the 1386 Treaty of Windsor -still active and unaffected by recent sporting events – remains the longest-lived such agreement in the world.

It will not, I hope, be put in jeopardy by my opinion of the red wines of the region.

Any robust survey cannot possibly ignore them, not least because they have only recently been overtaken in terms of volume of production by the white wines.

The fact that they seem to be effectively unobtainable here is, hopefully, because by some mechanism or other – possibly a clause in the treaty – they have been declared illegal on the grounds of tasting so horrible.

The excellent Monção Co-Operative produces some delightful whites, but even their flagship reds remain very disappointing.

But the last couple of years have seen sales of vinho verde rising at a rate to make even a rosé salesman blush and the good news is that this renaissance does appear to be quality-led.

The basic production methods would be recognisable to the pre-Christian inhabitants of the region

In the vanguard is Portugal’s largest wine company, the family-run Sogrape.

It produces everything from an annual 20 million bottles of Mateus Rosé to a rather smaller number of bottles of Barca Velha, the iconic red wine of which Jose Mourinho famously sent a conciliatory case to Alex Ferguson after an early touchline spat.

Don Hewitson, the proprietor of the Cork and Bottle wine bar off Leicester Square, central London, stocks Sogrape’s Quinta de Azevedo, and enthuses about vinho verde.

“There’s nothing quite like it,” he says. “It has lower alcohol content, usually around 10 or 11 per cent, which is just what you want in the summer. Plus it’s beautifully crisp and has a nice little spritz.”

Wines of the week

2005 Alvarinho Soalheiro, 12.5% vol (£10.75; Butlers Wine Cellar, 01273 698724. £11.99; Handford Wines, 020 7221 9614; Philglas & Swiggot, 020 7924 4494). This is a big, lush wine, with a perfect balance of ripeness and acidity and that je ne sais quoi – honeysuckle, perhaps – that Albariño always reveals.

2005 Quinta de Azevedo, 10.5% vol (£5.25; Wine Society 01438 740222. £4.99 for two or more at Majestic until August 28, then £5.49). Ghostly-pale, “new style” vinho verde with just a prickle of fizz, a sherbetty nose and tingling green-apple acidity. A Granny Smith in a glass and great with oysters.

2005 Quinta do Ameal, 11.5% vol (£8.48; Corney & Barrow, 020 7265 2400). 2005 has produced some unusually rich, full-bodied wines. Barely a hint of spritz, but a lovely, laurel-scented nose and a lip-smacking savoury tang. Not a typical vinho verde, but very classy none the less.

NV Gazela, 9.5% vol (£4.49; Morrisons). Yes, it’s non-vintage, and the labelling is rather startling, but after an hour in the freezer – yes, really – this is as refreshing as a wine can be. Drinking it within an hour or so, to keep the fizz going, isn’t going to be a problem.

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