Drink
The beauty of a serious Burgundy
It was the English summer at its most perverse. We were drinking Pimm’s while hoping against hope for better news…
Where to drink Tuscany’s finest summer tipples
Some subjects invite an eternal recurrence. One such is Tuscany. The other day, I wrote about that glorious region: its…
What’s so super about Super Tuscans?
In Fellini’s La Dolce Vita, the hopes embodied in the title dissolve into grimness and black irony. It was all…
The beauty of rosé and roses
What an idyllic setting. We were amidst the joys of high summer in England, with just enough of a breeze…
The Britishness of Bordeaux
Burgundy or Bordeaux? We were discussing that unending question during dinner over the weekend. I think that there is only…
Tinta de Toro: the Spanish red that helped Columbus make waves
I am assured that this is not a legend. But a few years ago, an Irishman’s life was twice saved…
The joy of real beer
England. Despite being a Scotsman, partly brought up in Ulster, I have taken so much Englishness for granted over so…
The restorative qualities of a great martini
It was a perfect setting for a spring day, next to a 15th-century barn. Other walls and buildings had clearly…
In praise of Bellamy’s
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: the rich vocabulary of wine
Some decades ago, there was a Tory MP called John Stokes: eventually, and deservedly, Sir John. He had no interest…
The restorative power of great claret
‘Come dance with me in Ireland.’ That has always struck me as an enchanting prospect, though a recent Hibernian venture…
A belated Christmas tipple worth waiting for
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.…
The surprising joy of involuntary sobriety
I have just finished a sojourn with a curious twist. Readers of Thomas Mann’s The Magic Mountain will remember Hans…
My fall into sobriety
I am occasionally teased. In a column devoted to drink, which in practice usually means wine and often the products…
South Africa and a toast to democracy
Not everything in the entire world is going to hell in a half-track. A few days ago, I tasted some…
My Advent vinousness
Some simpering bishops are urging their clergy to make sure that carol services do not interfere with the ship of…
The overlooked brilliance of Branaire-Ducru
At the end of last century, when there were grounds for optimism about Russia’s future, an increasingly popular word expressed…
The wartime roots of Italian Pinot Noir
Wine-making can have a tragic dimension, and rarely more so than with Italian Pinot Nero: that is, Pinot Noir. It…
The Eton vs Winchester of the wine world
A few days ago, when everything looked black, a small group of us were consoling ourselves over a couple of…
A wine company after Roger Scruton’s heart
‘Golden’ is often used to describe the hue of some wines in the glass. But there is another resemblance. Gold…
Why the dry martini is the finest cocktail of all
We were discussing bourbon and whether American whiskey could ever rival Scotch. I recalled the first time I ever tried…
A toast to absent friends
There have been few more momentous weeks in British history, or indeed in world history. This commentator must plead guilty.…
A toast to the field marshals
August may not be the cruellest month but it is often the most dangerous one. Now that it is over,…
At least we still have wine
Even in recent heat, the English summer can be magical. As long as there is shade, a pool and a…
