Don't Judge A Book...

I love a good book but had always found the idea of a book club rather awful. As a friend said, years of being told what to read at school can put a girl off. Then I was asked to join one by another friend who used to work for SOMEONE REALLY FAMOUS so I said yes thinking that if the books were bad at least the anecdotes would be priceless. Annoyingly, she's far too discreet. I'll work on that. Anyway, last night was our first meeting and over a bowl of delicious stew and glasses of wine we talked about the book (so-so). Before long we were talking about sperm washing (I dare you to google it). Erudite indeed.

Last year I wrote about a wine that I bought from an internet wine company called Naked Wines. My new best friend their PR manager has since sent me a case of 6 wines to try and I said I would do so, two wines a time at Book Club. I did think Naked Book Club but with 14 children between the five of us, perhaps not.

This week's white in the fridge: Small & Small Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc 2010, Sylvia Reserve, Naked Wines
All of the wines I've had from Naked Wines have had really lovely labels. Don't judge a book and all that, but a good label makes me feel like the producer has checked his/her teeth for spinach before going out. This is a Sauvignon Blanc made by Bill & Claudia Small and named after their daughter, Sylvia. Sold. Actually, it packs a surprise at 14% abv so if sipping without food, hold tight: but it is wonderfully peachy and pungent. Made from grapes grown in the Awatere Valley, this is unmistakably NZ SB. And then some. I can't find this on the website tonight so no idea on price, but put it at around £12-£15. Naked Book Club score = 7 out of 10.

This week's red on the side: Minervois 2009, Benjamin Darnault, £10.49, Naked Wines
Rather like joining a book club, signs of me heading towards middle age are all around me. I am veering back to the wines of France like never before. Is it the more subtle flavours? Or the seemingly lower alcohols? Not sure, but there is something about a rustic red from the South of France that is just. doing. it. for. me. Again, can't tell you the blend as it is not showing on the website tonight but think there's Syrah and Carignan grapes in there. It isn't beautifully polished and is all the better for it: a dream with our tomato & spicy chorizo stew last night. Naked Book Club score = 8 out of 10. 

 Slainte Mhath x

Pees In Our Time

I've had a complaint from a reader - a reader!* - who's asked me not to bang on about how bleak January is, about dieting or not drinking (as if). She wants wine recommendations and a laugh. That's me told.

So, I'm not a big spirits drinker: vodka makes me feisty, gin makes me cry, whisky makes me think I'm Judi Dench. Last week, however, someone bought me a gin martini and it made me tell them how I peed on a power plate, used in my efforts (without having to break sweat, obviously) to lose baby weight.

I guess you had to be there.

This week's white in the fridge: Waitrose Chablis 2009, £9.49, Waitrose
The Chardonnay grape is the vinous equivalent of a blank piece of paper. Pick a grape off the vine, pop it in your mouth and it doesn't taste of much. Grapey, really. What influences the resulting wine is where and how the grape is grown and what the winemaker does to it. I've always found that the Chablis region does a great naked Chardonnay. By that I mean little or no oak; rather the soil and climate do the talking. It is a cool region with mean soil, so the grapes have to work hard to ripen. It gives the wine a steeliness, a mineral-like quality. Really difficult to describe but if you can, pour a glass of Australian Chardonnay and Chablis and try them side by side. Then you'll know what I am on about.

This week's red on the side: St Hallett Barossa Shiraz 2008, £4, Co-op
I feel almost dirty writing about Australian wine at this price but they've had a huge wine glut and need to get rid, so buy it and don't feel bad. St Hallett makes lovely wines and this one promised me a 'cascading Barossa Shiraz experience'. Now, I've had more than my fair share of cascading experiences, one of which was on a power plate. As you know. Luckily the experience delivered by the wine was a good one: dark bramble fruits with an almost chocolatey note to it. It's not the most complicated wine on earth but at £4, it is bloody marvellous. We had it with slow roasted lamb on Sunday, they made a lovely couple.  

*Sis, you complain again and I'll tell your 'We Are The World' story. That's funny.

Drawing a blanc

Maybe it is the harsh jute-like feel of January compared with the velvet comfort of December, but I am struggling to get going. It might be the extra weight I'm carrying (booze/food, not baby for once) but I think it is just January. I'll go straight to the wines, that'll cheer me up.

This week's white in the fridge: Tesco Finest Gavi 2008, currently 2 for £10 instore or £4.75 online, Tesco
Gavi is the name of the region in Piedmont, Italy where this wine comes from and the grape variety is Cortese. Italy has hundreds of different grape varieties, which is a joy when you just want to break out of the Chardonnay/Sauvignon/Pinot Grigio rut. If you like the roundness of Chardonnay but don't like too much oak, try this: it is a peachy queen with a twist of lime and is ripe, round and very un-jute like. Loves a herby chicken breast.

This week's red on the side: La Leyenda Malbec Syrah 2010, currently £5 on offer, Tesco
Now, obviously what's inside the bottle is more important that what's outside. But this label is terribly pretty.  Not that I'm saying you should buy a wine for the label. That would be shallow. But it is pretty. Anyway, the wine: a brilliant blend of Argentina's look-at-me grape, Malbec and the more widely-travelled Syrah (Shiraz by another name), grown in vineyards that nudge the foothills of the Andes. The winery is the romantically named Escorihuela, founded in 1884. I've been, it's lovely. Violets, plums and spice in a glass, reminding me of the velvet comfort of December.

In vino veritas x

Guess who's coming to dinner?

In a token nod to the new year I'm off the booze for a week but luckily my friend Claire @ CRUMBS kindly agreed to do a guest post. If you haven't seen this site, please go and have a look. It has saved me from tears at teatime on more than a few occasions.

When Knackered Mother invited me over I got all excited. "Now there's a place where the guest blogger is going to get a warm welcome", I thought. "AND a decent glass of wine". Little did I know that she would be on the wagon. So I've had to smuggle in my own booze, in the form of welsh rarebit (I know! cunning! see below).

I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised. January is when most people give their livers a break, which is ironic, because if ever there was a time when taking to drink seems positively healthy, it must be now. While the weather is bleak, the nights are long, and winter seems endless without the twinkling of Christmas tree lights, a big glass of red wine is just what we need to keep our spirits warm.

But there's no telling some people. So instead of booze in your glass, try a splosh in your dinner. Most of the alcohol will go up in steam and it adds a certain something. The brown ale in this welsh rarebit gives it a delightful bitterness which you don't get with cheese on toast.

I won't pretend this is the most imaginative rarebit ever made, but I bet it's the easiest. I knocked it up for lunch at the weekend, in the time it took me to make cheese toasties for the little ones. They didn't have any as I wasn't sure of the ethics of giving a 16 month old a taste for stout. The recipe is from my mum's old Good Housekeeping cookery book from 1992. They say it serves 4 people, but I'd say 2, which says something about our chubby times.

Welsh Rarebit
Start to finish: 10 minutes
Serves 2
225g grated cheddar cheese
25g butter
1 level tsp mustard powder (or mustard, whatever you've got)
thinly sliced spring onions
salt and pepper
4 tbsp brown ale
4 slices of bread


Place all ingredients except the bread in a saucepan and heat gently until it goes creamy. Lightly toast bread on one side (use bagel setting if you have it). Put toast in a shallow oven proof dish, pour creamy cheesey goo over it, place under hot grill until it bubbles and goes golden.
 
Cheers (ish) x