Drink
We’ll always have Paris
Some friends claim to be making marks on the wall to count the days until liberation. Ah, the forgotten delights…
Memories of Stellenbosch
Lockdown provides time to think, and to reminisce. A South African friend, trapped in Amsterdam, phoned the other day. Had…
My palate and the plague
Later this week, on Spectator.co.uk, I will resolve a mystery that has featured in a lot of Zoom traffic around…
Argentine conquests
When Napoleon III proclaimed himself Emperor of France in 1852, he unwittingly kickstarted quality wine production in Chile and Argentina.…
Open that special bottle now
Losing your sense of smell due to Covid is no joke when you make a living in food and wine.…
A toast to Lebanon
I was thinking about tragedy. Could one use the term ‘chronically tragic’? My first instinct is against. Tragedy is the…
Tales of war and lockdown
We were celebrating the end of lockdown by talking about war and deer stalking — over a business lunch, naturally.…
Ghosts of Christmas pissed
I feel like a prisoner, making daily marks on the cell wall to chart the approach of freedom. But will…
Johnson’s turnip bogle
At least in London, midwinter spring has not been entirely vanquished, and the trees are still a couple of strong…
A toast to Tim
I am in an Eliot mood, not a Keatsian one. ‘Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness’ is a surprisingly… mellow…
Memories of Perry
I had known Perry Worsthorne for several years before I went to work for him in 1986 (horrifying how time…
Viva España
It had been a long and no doubt fractious sea voyage. The crew would have signed up for a variety…
It’s all in the timing
Three bottles, three questions that delivered three different answers. I was in Dorset — cannot keep away — enjoying the…
Right up my alley
I suspect, though this may be romanticising, that if a French lorry driver with hitherto suppressed culinary tastes won France’s…
A tale of six graces
‘The Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day’: surely one of the most beautiful images…
A taste of the continent
Is it safe to visit the continent? On the one hand, abroad is likely to be less crowded this August…
Beauty, brutality, cricket and wine
In one respect, there has been a reassertion of normality, though this is nothing to do with the virus. Although…
The best wine since incarceration
The woodpecker jinked across the lawn like an especially cunning partridge. Its goal was a skilfully constructed bird table with…
Peaty giant, Tuscan flower
The virus is in retreat, the lock-down is crumbling, the sherbet dispensaries will shortly reopen and there is a second…
A memory of Burgundy
More than two months: who would have thought it possible? Before the great closure, I had been trying to decide…
Hops and dreams
It is enough to drive a man to drink. The most glorious weather, so suitable for white Burgundy on a…
Wine to lock down
I was once invited to the Cheltenham races and found the experience underwhelming. Everything was too respectable: not nearly Hibernian…
Cavalier approach
This April was indeed the cruellest month, at least for those of us banged up in cities. From the country…
Sacrifice and resurrection
I cannot remember a prettier Easter, or a more frustrating one. This was no time to be in town. But…
Reading, thinking, drinking
Spring sense, caressing sunshine: last week, London enjoyed village cricket weather. Even in normal circumstances, the season would not have…
