The more I work the less I blog … or diary. Pretty manic, just
now. Writing, meetings, tastings, visits, so on.
Please Sir, can I be let off this week? How about I post
this nice letter from a customer instead?
Friday, 20 April 2012
Thursday, 12 April 2012
Drama in Castillon ... winemakers in tears
Henry and I drove down through a weirdly empty Bank Holiday France for a fleeting glimpse of Bordeaux … for me. (Henry has two bottlings to do). It was lovely to have time to father-son chat. We should talk more; he is a wise boy.
You used to be able to spot British pukka wine merchants by the corduroy and tweed. Now it’s by the red trousers. Note. Red trousers were clustered at their densest around Château Angelus during last week’s 'En Primeur 2011' tastings. That could be a hot tip.
Anyway, as is my wont, I got to Bordeaux as all the others were leaving. Slow; me.
Henry and I drove into Castillon with difficulty as Le Fete de Pacques was on … cars parked everywhere, French fashion. It looked normal for Easter Monday. But, unseen, in an upstairs room at our much beloved Restaurant and Bar 'Le Voyageur' a fire was starting.
We left town to check the bud burst around our vineyards – two hours? Arriving home I got an email from Agnes saying 'Le Voyageur' was "all on fire" and firemen were up great ladders.
Drove past this morning. All black-stained and shut. We are devastated. Mark is in tears. We all loved little Madam Mimi with her Juliet Greco hair. And deaf old Monsieur Marches and his Steak Frites. And his duck hearts, andouillette, Isles Flottant, soup, hors d'oeuvres, plat fromage dessert and wine for €13!
He fed all the town’s waifs and nutters including Team Chai au Quai at two long tables in the back-room through the kitchen. Away from the smarter people. Never again, I fear. Gutted. Us, as much as the building. Where will we go?
This morning I first went to tell Anne-Marie at 'Le Comptoir' up at St Genes this she might get an influx of new business. She gave me a calming tea. A few growers were poring over the newspaper report.
Went down to the Chai past the wreckage and the rubberneckers. Mark inconsolable. But we tried. A glass of what he calls 'Tony's Dry Botrytis'. (In case it doesn't work it’s to be was my idea! But I think it will work. Then it'll be his idea? Fair enough; he's making it; Sauternes-style noble-rot-affected Sémillon fermented dry in cask.
Went back up the hill to Ch. La Clarière Laithwaite; Henry bottling the 2010 – and delighted this morning to get a big order from the USA. We'll be welcoming American Confréres soon.
Also looked around the empty Château du Bois. They've left it very tidy. But huge works are needed in the vineyards. Well under way. Should we call it Château du Bois Laithwaite? I wonder. OK, so I have an ego. But think it important to stress our ownership.
Just missed meeting the new estate manager as had to leave for airport … this is a <24hr trip! She's an Alsace girl, but been working in Majorca. Have high hopes.
Wanted to miss lunch; no appetite. But Berndette was feeding the bottlers so a got her wild sprouting garlic omlette à l'Aillette.
But Oh! MIMI! Someone should write an opera: Le Voyageur!
You used to be able to spot British pukka wine merchants by the corduroy and tweed. Now it’s by the red trousers. Note. Red trousers were clustered at their densest around Château Angelus during last week’s 'En Primeur 2011' tastings. That could be a hot tip.
Anyway, as is my wont, I got to Bordeaux as all the others were leaving. Slow; me.
We left town to check the bud burst around our vineyards – two hours? Arriving home I got an email from Agnes saying 'Le Voyageur' was "all on fire" and firemen were up great ladders.
Drove past this morning. All black-stained and shut. We are devastated. Mark is in tears. We all loved little Madam Mimi with her Juliet Greco hair. And deaf old Monsieur Marches and his Steak Frites. And his duck hearts, andouillette, Isles Flottant, soup, hors d'oeuvres, plat fromage dessert and wine for €13!
He fed all the town’s waifs and nutters including Team Chai au Quai at two long tables in the back-room through the kitchen. Away from the smarter people. Never again, I fear. Gutted. Us, as much as the building. Where will we go?
This morning I first went to tell Anne-Marie at 'Le Comptoir' up at St Genes this she might get an influx of new business. She gave me a calming tea. A few growers were poring over the newspaper report.
Went down to the Chai past the wreckage and the rubberneckers. Mark inconsolable. But we tried. A glass of what he calls 'Tony's Dry Botrytis'. (In case it doesn't work it’s to be was my idea! But I think it will work. Then it'll be his idea? Fair enough; he's making it; Sauternes-style noble-rot-affected Sémillon fermented dry in cask.
Went back up the hill to Ch. La Clarière Laithwaite; Henry bottling the 2010 – and delighted this morning to get a big order from the USA. We'll be welcoming American Confréres soon.
Also looked around the empty Château du Bois. They've left it very tidy. But huge works are needed in the vineyards. Well under way. Should we call it Château du Bois Laithwaite? I wonder. OK, so I have an ego. But think it important to stress our ownership.
Just missed meeting the new estate manager as had to leave for airport … this is a <24hr trip! She's an Alsace girl, but been working in Majorca. Have high hopes.
Wanted to miss lunch; no appetite. But Berndette was feeding the bottlers so a got her wild sprouting garlic omlette à l'Aillette.
But Oh! MIMI! Someone should write an opera: Le Voyageur!
Tuesday, 10 April 2012
Catching up at home
At the Board Meeting the day after we got back from Down Under one of the Laithwaites did actually doze off. But it wasn't me. Too much Excitement; Glenn's going like a train. Then a day with the writers … and one of the best-ever Monday mornings was meeting Oz Clarke at the top of the Oval stands to take a cover photo. The sun shone and the first game of the season was going on below. I know nothing about cricket but I envied those few in the stands. Such a peaceful pastime. Just lovely.
Then days of meetings with all at Theale finished off with a Tasting Battle vs Henry L at The Arch in front of a big crowd. He won the first 2 rounds with the Hunter’s Sauvignon and the great La Voute. But I fought back with le Vent de Folie and the Presbytere '02. A draw. So Tom L said we both lost. No, we won, son. And …
So flattered to have one couple come down from Leicester just for the tasting and another bringing in a crusty old '70 St Emilion for us to enjoy together. We do have lovely customers!
Took a day off to go see the Hockneys; need to work on my i-pad sketching.
This morning, Easter Sunday, after helping plant the spuds – a family tradition – I said to B I wished I was going to Bordeaux with Henry. So she said why not? And here we are waiting to get on the Portsmouth ferry and its taking me right back to the '70's when I did this monthly. Glad H is driving. Actually I'm replacing Alfie dog. Who preferred to stay home with our two. I can't stay awake.
Then days of meetings with all at Theale finished off with a Tasting Battle vs Henry L at The Arch in front of a big crowd. He won the first 2 rounds with the Hunter’s Sauvignon and the great La Voute. But I fought back with le Vent de Folie and the Presbytere '02. A draw. So Tom L said we both lost. No, we won, son. And …
So flattered to have one couple come down from Leicester just for the tasting and another bringing in a crusty old '70 St Emilion for us to enjoy together. We do have lovely customers!
Took a day off to go see the Hockneys; need to work on my i-pad sketching.
This morning, Easter Sunday, after helping plant the spuds – a family tradition – I said to B I wished I was going to Bordeaux with Henry. So she said why not? And here we are waiting to get on the Portsmouth ferry and its taking me right back to the '70's when I did this monthly. Glad H is driving. Actually I'm replacing Alfie dog. Who preferred to stay home with our two. I can't stay awake.
Friday, 6 April 2012
Sydney
Sunday morning, darling daughter in-law drives us – two hangovers and a loud baby – to Adelaide airport. We fly to Sydney in time to attend a family birthday Tea for Two. (He's two.)
Next day, after a walk to see the fruit bats in the botanical gardens, we visit our new Sydney office. No similarity whatever. There's the sign 'Laithwaites Wine People'. Proud? Fit to bust! A terrific team all built up by our Rachel; the Mighty Atom of our wine world. Dan does the buying and Andrew Stead is Wine Director ... he is 'family'; Barbara's sister's son and doing brilliant work. They all are.
Tough market; Australia. Maybe the toughest of all. Two supermarkets dominate – about 88% - and a hell of a lot of keen, sharp people scrabble for the rest. Us included. But we have a very determined crowd; they are growing fast and also selling into Hong Kong. Seven solid hours of presentations did actually fly by. Had drinks with all. Mumbled some stuff. And off into the night.
At Circular Quay, one of my favourite places on earth. The buzz and bustle. There are manhole covers named after Clive James and Dame Edna and other interesting people you've not heard of. There's the Opera House, the Bridge, great yachts, the constant movement of ferries, the hooting of same, the bats, the street art, the open air eateries and good food, bloody lovely wines, the moon on the water, the slapping waves never stop, nor the pad-pad joggers. I could sit there all night. So I do. To get tired for the long flight tomorrow.
Farewells:
Thanks NZ. You are a lovely country. Lucky country in the view of one who loves to eat. Fish, meat, veg, fruit … ALL your produce is just so good. And these days you can really cook too. (Different from when I first came!) Superb wines. But you know that. That's how come you can charge what you do!
You just watch too much telly or something. I mean, where are you all? There's hardly anyone out on your roads. Bit weird. Like rush hour is four cars! Get out more! We'll be back. And stay longer.
Thanks Oztralia. You are a lovely – but so very different – country too. Most of the fun I've had with wine in the last 20 years has been thanks to you mad lot. I tell all who'll listen you are still world leader in wine. Plenty competition now for sure. Your currency is far too strong for comfort, and the natural world seems to have it in for you. But you cope with all that. Growing up surrounded by so many lethal life-forms sharpens you up early.
See you both next year, God willing.
Next day, after a walk to see the fruit bats in the botanical gardens, we visit our new Sydney office. No similarity whatever. There's the sign 'Laithwaites Wine People'. Proud? Fit to bust! A terrific team all built up by our Rachel; the Mighty Atom of our wine world. Dan does the buying and Andrew Stead is Wine Director ... he is 'family'; Barbara's sister's son and doing brilliant work. They all are.
Tough market; Australia. Maybe the toughest of all. Two supermarkets dominate – about 88% - and a hell of a lot of keen, sharp people scrabble for the rest. Us included. But we have a very determined crowd; they are growing fast and also selling into Hong Kong. Seven solid hours of presentations did actually fly by. Had drinks with all. Mumbled some stuff. And off into the night.
At Circular Quay, one of my favourite places on earth. The buzz and bustle. There are manhole covers named after Clive James and Dame Edna and other interesting people you've not heard of. There's the Opera House, the Bridge, great yachts, the constant movement of ferries, the hooting of same, the bats, the street art, the open air eateries and good food, bloody lovely wines, the moon on the water, the slapping waves never stop, nor the pad-pad joggers. I could sit there all night. So I do. To get tired for the long flight tomorrow.
Farewells:
Thanks NZ. You are a lovely country. Lucky country in the view of one who loves to eat. Fish, meat, veg, fruit … ALL your produce is just so good. And these days you can really cook too. (Different from when I first came!) Superb wines. But you know that. That's how come you can charge what you do!
You just watch too much telly or something. I mean, where are you all? There's hardly anyone out on your roads. Bit weird. Like rush hour is four cars! Get out more! We'll be back. And stay longer.
Thanks Oztralia. You are a lovely – but so very different – country too. Most of the fun I've had with wine in the last 20 years has been thanks to you mad lot. I tell all who'll listen you are still world leader in wine. Plenty competition now for sure. Your currency is far too strong for comfort, and the natural world seems to have it in for you. But you cope with all that. Growing up surrounded by so many lethal life-forms sharpens you up early.
See you both next year, God willing.
Wednesday, 4 April 2012
Red Heads
I thought I'd address this one to Jancis. I hope she doesn't mind. It’s just that on the drive to Red Heads, Steve, explaining the modest amount of discipline he is trying to introduce into the traditional RH chaos said: "I tell them, I want it so if Jancis Robinson walks in, unannounced, one day, she'll find it all clean, clear and correct and … she'll be impressed." I don't know if he said that because Jancis has in the past shown interest and support for Red Heads or because that – very dear – lady is famous for being quite hard to impress. Anyway, he said it. So …
Dear Jancis,
I took the opportunity, on an NZ tour, to nip over to Adelaide and spend a day at Red Heads. As you've always shown interest in this little venture I thought I'd update you. Because Red Heads is now ten years old!
It’s not been a smooth ride, but then, if you encourage anarchy you can't expect much else. But it is still there – well, a few hundred yards down the road, still there – and a surprising number of the original cast have survived too. Prospered? Mmm … almost!
You'll recollect the beginnings: our young Flying Winemakers doing the European Vintage, whingeing (they can do that, Aussies) that, back home in Oz, they had no freedom to make the wines they wanted to. Wineries there just kept getting bigger and fewer and being junior winemaker on a big team making a mega-brand was just plain … boring.
'Jut' Lane made just four barrels of his own in his garage. But also had a mate, 'Philbo', who made rather more in a bigger tin shack on Chalk Hill that he'd kitted out for bugger-all with cheap rainwater butts, garden hose, a converted milk chiller, clapped old pumps and casks scavenged from behind Hardy's. They both, however, made wines I bought. But then I needed more.
So we all spent a day looking at any more sheds for sale in McLaren Vale but didn't find any. Then, the man serving coffee said "you can have this place if you want, I've had enough of this, I'm buying a camper and going right round Oz". And so we bought his café for less than A$100,000, I think; 'Red Heads' it was called; on the corner of Kangarilla and Foggo roads.
Kitted out the same grunge-garage way but with the most splendid bar you've ever seen (made from a whole tree!) plus a pinball machine and powerful amps … Red Heads Studio made its first wines in 2002.
It went very well at first, you helped us by liking the wines and they began to sell in Oz, the US, Denmark as well as to us in the UK. Then, well, it started to get a bit out of hand. It grew much too fast. Whilst the Studio Members carried on making their one or two tonne tub wines, much bigger volumes were made in the big, new 'Back Shed' and a rented facility down the road. The tiny Red Heads site was packed tight; it could not expand.
The project was all over the place … of course; still run by anarchists. Suffice to say, one day, it imploded rather expensively. That's uncontrolled growth for you! Though, through it all … the Studio Members still kept on making their tiny volumes.
However, Red Heads looked doomed! The problem was given to Rachel Robinson from Lancashire who had just set up our 'Laithwaites Wine People' direct merchant business in Sydney. Any sane person seeing the huge losses would have shut it down but instead, the tiny but dogged Rachel found a saviour.
His name was Steve Grimley, one of our suppliers, who lived a few hundred yards away and, it seems, had always loved the whole Red Heads ethos and drunk many a beer there with the boys. Steve offered to move the whole operation to a bigger site and "look after it." Steve is very not an anarchist. But he still likes the lifestyle.
So, Red Heads is now on Chalk Hill Road. More sheds than before. New too. Same signs. Plus one in neon over the 'Cellar Door' shed. Wow! The guys take turns opening the shop. When they feel like it. They still refuse to be 'corporate'!!! An unsual tasting room feature is the big glass-fronted fridge full of hams, saussices, salami, black puddings – basically ex-pig in every known format.
This is where Steve's pigs end up. He had a load of huge Berkshires roaming the plot here. Until the problems with the neighbours. E.g. Big pigs cannot be contained and they like grapes. And they also dig big holes. And farmers here machine-harvest in the dark. And … you can guess the rest. So the pigs went. But they return. Wonderfully packaged. And believe me it all tastes bloody wonderful with the wines. Wine kills cholesterol, doesn't it? God, hope so!
Of course, over ten years some studio members dropped by the wayside but the stalwarts remained and then did what we hoped they would; they kitted out sheds of their own and developed their wine offerings further.
Adam 'Hoops' Hooper bought the original Red Heads place from us. He now makes his 'Curio' wines in the old back shed and has let out the original building – as a restaurant again. A good one too.
'Philbo' Christiansen – christened 'The Godfather of Garage' because he invented it, has been hugely successful. He now has a very big smart new shed and contract-makes wines for many growers – and a few wine merchants – as well as his own 'Longwood'.
Andrew Pieri, next door, makes his own Italian styles – eg 'Azzardo' drying grapes on big tin sheets in the manner perfected by his late – very much missed – father.
Nat McMurtrie (no relation, apparently) down on McMurtrie Road has many sheds next to the 'Old Salopian Inn' where he was born. Only one shed is a winery – the rest house Nat's extensive collection of Australiana or junk … depending on you being male or female. The junk is gradually being cleared … but the winery shed is expanding.
'The Doc' doesn't make much wine but then he is the local, hard-working doctor. I only saw him briefly this time; "house calls!" But his wine seems the most popular of all. Also the strongest.
Henry Laithwaite (yes, relation) was there this trip. He produces his Wilson Gunn most years working with his old mentor; Philbo. He was the original barrel monkey at Red Heads (doing the chores) but now with his Bordeaux and UK vineyards to prune it’s hard to get away. Misses the fun. Made up for it Saturday night though!
Then there's King Steve, a very busy winemaker, on a big scale, now, but who really likes to make a small tub or two Red Heads style.
Finally, saving the best till last, is Her Gorgeousness; Jess Hardy. Yes, of that wine dynasty. It used to be 'The Hardy Boys' in the time of her father and uncles, when they still owned the Company. Now I think its 'The Hardy Girls' – she has equally impressive sisters. Jess makes contract wines but also her 't = 0' Red Heads wine. I'm still not sure what it means but the wine is clever, elegant and beautiful. Seriously, it is!
Others who have made wine here … oh, this is getting too long for just a blog. I'll write a book sometime.
Suffice to say we had a great day, today – Saturday. Not too much cellar work. Tasted, took pics, made plans, all the old team came over, Steve lit the Pizza oven, we played some silly game chucking bits of wood at other bits of wood, we overdid the wine and I can't stay awake any lo.................
Dear Jancis,
I took the opportunity, on an NZ tour, to nip over to Adelaide and spend a day at Red Heads. As you've always shown interest in this little venture I thought I'd update you. Because Red Heads is now ten years old!
It’s not been a smooth ride, but then, if you encourage anarchy you can't expect much else. But it is still there – well, a few hundred yards down the road, still there – and a surprising number of the original cast have survived too. Prospered? Mmm … almost!
You'll recollect the beginnings: our young Flying Winemakers doing the European Vintage, whingeing (they can do that, Aussies) that, back home in Oz, they had no freedom to make the wines they wanted to. Wineries there just kept getting bigger and fewer and being junior winemaker on a big team making a mega-brand was just plain … boring.
So we all spent a day looking at any more sheds for sale in McLaren Vale but didn't find any. Then, the man serving coffee said "you can have this place if you want, I've had enough of this, I'm buying a camper and going right round Oz". And so we bought his café for less than A$100,000, I think; 'Red Heads' it was called; on the corner of Kangarilla and Foggo roads.
It went very well at first, you helped us by liking the wines and they began to sell in Oz, the US, Denmark as well as to us in the UK. Then, well, it started to get a bit out of hand. It grew much too fast. Whilst the Studio Members carried on making their one or two tonne tub wines, much bigger volumes were made in the big, new 'Back Shed' and a rented facility down the road. The tiny Red Heads site was packed tight; it could not expand.
The project was all over the place … of course; still run by anarchists. Suffice to say, one day, it imploded rather expensively. That's uncontrolled growth for you! Though, through it all … the Studio Members still kept on making their tiny volumes.
However, Red Heads looked doomed! The problem was given to Rachel Robinson from Lancashire who had just set up our 'Laithwaites Wine People' direct merchant business in Sydney. Any sane person seeing the huge losses would have shut it down but instead, the tiny but dogged Rachel found a saviour.
Of course, over ten years some studio members dropped by the wayside but the stalwarts remained and then did what we hoped they would; they kitted out sheds of their own and developed their wine offerings further.
Then there's King Steve, a very busy winemaker, on a big scale, now, but who really likes to make a small tub or two Red Heads style.
Others who have made wine here … oh, this is getting too long for just a blog. I'll write a book sometime.
Monday, 2 April 2012
NZ to RedHeads
Am so sorry. These days, travelling jumbles my brain after only a few days; too many airports. I write stuff but forget to send … here's a catch-up.
Woke up in Blenheim very early as jet-lagged usual, groped in the dark for the Blackberry, to have the shocking news that John Avery had died. It was only last week at Jean Marc's party we'd agreed to meet up soon.
John was about the only wine trader I know older than me … Was wiser too. Ten years ago my Company bought his Company from the then German owners who wanted out. We made strenuous efforts to leave John and Avery's alone to carry on buying their own choice of wines and doing things their very own way. Result was we were lucky to meet even once a year. Usually by chance. Of course I now really regret that. You put these things off thinking that things will quieten down and there'll be time for long lunches. It never happens. Now know it never will. Poignant that I get the news in New Zealand; John loved it so.
Move on.
With the sun just up on a sparkling after-rain landscape, B and I head for the ferry terminal. Boat is late but trip through Marlborough Sounds is so lovely. 3 hours later at Wellington docks my case towing handle won't retract so, now running late for the plane, I smack it one … and it shatters leaving un-retractable jagged spikes they are never going to let through security. Taxi dash to luggage shop gets new case but causes loss of my i-pod. Bugger. Those things are now just too small to see.
Airport sprint. She frowns but checks me in then - 'click' - "flight is closed"; wife not yet on! Blood pressure probably quite high now. But it is resolved. Get the seats next to the engines which allows me to discover that 'The Artist' is the perfect film for such a situation.
At Sydney am made to look a silly old fool by the customs girl. Blood pressure! And miss the bus to the Domestic terminal. Wife is glad to leave me and go off to stay with her sister.
But some hours later I miraculously arrive at – or 'into' in airlinespeak – Adelaide to be greeted by tall, sunburnt, vintage be-grimed, but still ogled by the girls - the sod! - King Steve Grimley of Red Heads.
Put in his 'Ute' and off to the 'New, Improved Red Heads Studio'; our little winemaking home on the other side of the world. It’s 11pm. There they are where I left them two years ago, standing around the fermenters, beers in hand, dog-tired, wine-stained from head to foot. So why is that girl spraying that man's boots with red paint? It’s the sort of thing always happening here and you'll never get any answer so why ask?
It’s been a long harvest. Very long. A small, but excellent one. The tubs and tanks are full. No space left and yet more grapes due tomorrow. So, they're thinking about that and hoping a few stubbies of cold Coopers Ale will bring the brainwave.
My brain by now useless. Go to bed at the old McLV Motel I love so well. Long day. Zonk.
Woke up in Blenheim very early as jet-lagged usual, groped in the dark for the Blackberry, to have the shocking news that John Avery had died. It was only last week at Jean Marc's party we'd agreed to meet up soon.
John was about the only wine trader I know older than me … Was wiser too. Ten years ago my Company bought his Company from the then German owners who wanted out. We made strenuous efforts to leave John and Avery's alone to carry on buying their own choice of wines and doing things their very own way. Result was we were lucky to meet even once a year. Usually by chance. Of course I now really regret that. You put these things off thinking that things will quieten down and there'll be time for long lunches. It never happens. Now know it never will. Poignant that I get the news in New Zealand; John loved it so.
Move on.
With the sun just up on a sparkling after-rain landscape, B and I head for the ferry terminal. Boat is late but trip through Marlborough Sounds is so lovely. 3 hours later at Wellington docks my case towing handle won't retract so, now running late for the plane, I smack it one … and it shatters leaving un-retractable jagged spikes they are never going to let through security. Taxi dash to luggage shop gets new case but causes loss of my i-pod. Bugger. Those things are now just too small to see.
Airport sprint. She frowns but checks me in then - 'click' - "flight is closed"; wife not yet on! Blood pressure probably quite high now. But it is resolved. Get the seats next to the engines which allows me to discover that 'The Artist' is the perfect film for such a situation.
At Sydney am made to look a silly old fool by the customs girl. Blood pressure! And miss the bus to the Domestic terminal. Wife is glad to leave me and go off to stay with her sister.
But some hours later I miraculously arrive at – or 'into' in airlinespeak – Adelaide to be greeted by tall, sunburnt, vintage be-grimed, but still ogled by the girls - the sod! - King Steve Grimley of Red Heads.
Put in his 'Ute' and off to the 'New, Improved Red Heads Studio'; our little winemaking home on the other side of the world. It’s 11pm. There they are where I left them two years ago, standing around the fermenters, beers in hand, dog-tired, wine-stained from head to foot. So why is that girl spraying that man's boots with red paint? It’s the sort of thing always happening here and you'll never get any answer so why ask?
It’s been a long harvest. Very long. A small, but excellent one. The tubs and tanks are full. No space left and yet more grapes due tomorrow. So, they're thinking about that and hoping a few stubbies of cold Coopers Ale will bring the brainwave.
My brain by now useless. Go to bed at the old McLV Motel I love so well. Long day. Zonk.
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