The world is a mess. Why not find escapism through wine?
In most children’s stories, the good characters live happily ever after. Works suitable for older readers tend to greater realism.…
It’s time to take Italian wine seriously
Tuscany: earth has not anything to show more fair. The landscape is charming. The gentle hills seem to smile down…
Party spirit
I feel old, and feelings are not always wrong, This eheu fugaces mood came on me at the Conservative party…
Burgundian beneficence
Paris has enough great restaurants to maintain its claim to be the world capital of gastronomy. That said, Parisian residents…
A slice of Calabria – in London
The Romans wrote the history, or at least the myths. But long before Romulus murdered Remus, the Mediterranean – the…
A red fit for a matador
We were talking bulls. A friend of mine, Alexander Fiske-Harrison, is a remarkable character who can claim at least two…
Port sunset
I once drank some excellent port at Ted Heath’s table. The invitation came as a surprise, but it almost certainly…
A serious Burgundy
It was the English summer at its most perverse. We were drinking Pimm’s while hoping against hope for better news…
Tuscan favours
Some subjects invite an eternal recurrence. One such is Tuscany. The other day, I wrote about that glorious region: its…
Super Tuscans
In Fellini’s La Dolce Vita, the hopes embodied in the title dissolve into grimness and black irony. It was all…
Rosé and roses
What an idyllic setting. We were amidst the joys of high summer in England, with just enough of a breeze…
Discovering St Julien
Burgundy or Bordeaux? We were discussing that unending question during dinner over the weekend. I think that there is only…
Red bull
I am assured that this is not a legend. But a few years ago, an Irishman’s life was twice saved…
Bitter truths
England. Despite being a Scotsman, partly brought up in Ulster, I have taken so much Englishness for granted over so…
Distilled wisdom
It was a perfect setting for a spring day, next to a 15th-century barn. Other walls and buildings had clearly…
Rising to the challenge
Of all London districts, there is no more charming name than Mayfair. It makes one think of pretty shepherdesses, giggling…
A nose of wet chihuahua
Some decades ago, there was a Tory MP called John Stokes: eventually, and deservedly, Sir John. He had no interest…
Battle of the clarets
‘Come dance with me in Ireland.’ That has always struck me as an enchanting prospect, though a recent Hibernian venture…
A belated Christmas tipple
Life is returning to normal. Clinics, pills et al are receding into the distance. There was never anything remotely approaching…
The dying days of abstinence
There is one advantage to a stay in hospital followed by confinement to barracks: time to read and to think.…
How to not drink
I have just finished a sojourn with a curious twist. Readers of Thomas Mann’s The Magic Mountain will remember Hans…
Vicarious celebrations
I am occasionally teased. In a column devoted to drink, which in practice usually means wine and often the products…
