Wine
A time for New Zealand wines
‘The doors clap to, the pane is bright with showers.’ With ‘summer’ determined to do its worst, there is one…
French toast
It is hard to decide which is more depressing, the extension of the lockdown or the public support for this…
Haut topic
It seemed a suitable topic for a bank holiday. We were discussing Haut-Brion, a bank-breaking wine. There is a question…
Low life
Walking up through the Stink Street medieval arch with a bag of shopping, I spotted Michael between the oleander branches…
A novel approach
The last Saturday of lockdown — inshallah — and we were discussing literature. Specifically, when does a detective story become…
A creature of habits
Along with many other people, I gave up drinking for the month of January and then resumed with gusto on…
Low life
One day last week we did a wine run up to Manosque in the foothills of the Alps, leaving early…
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…
Abstinence makes the heart grow fonder
The wine has been flowing in the Young household this week. The reason I’ve been celebrating is because I managed…
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…
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 taste of the continent
Is it safe to visit the continent? On the one hand, abroad is likely to be less crowded this August…
Low life
Provence-Alpes-Côte D’Azur Until January the foreign correspondent lived in a late-18th-century house with a vineyard, olive grove and vegetable garden…
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…
