The A-Z of wine: This week, E is for… England
We continue to march through the alphabet in search of new wines and old favourites.
What’s this then?
A green and pleasant land bedeviled by internal strife caused by a single contentious issue – namely, what do you call a soft bread roll? Also home to a burgeoning wine industry fuelled by centuries of wine consumption, a world-class viticultural education institution and the helpful face of climate change. That’ll be England, then.
Most of us are pretty comfortable these days with the idea of English wine being the toast of the party rather than punchline of a joke. We know that English sparkling can rival much of Champagne – and spend any time with an English sparkling winemaker and you’re almost guaranteed to hear how the soils of southern Britain are effectively a continuation of those of Champagne (a shared geological ancestry that was rudely interrupted sometime around 6,100 BC by the breaking away of what is now Britain from mainland Europe, aka the OG Brexit). Lean, clean and lip-smackingly fresh whites, capitalising on Sauvignon-mania, have thrived in our marginal climate. But look beyond the bubbles, the Bacchus and the big names that make up most of the high volume retail production and there’s even more exciting things to discover.
Why does it matter?
It’s easy to forget just how new the whole English wine scene is. The first commercial vineyard was planted as recently as 1951 and it’s only really been the past ten years that we’ve seen the explosion in planting and production, with the area under vine doubling in the past eight years alone. This means there’s a lot of fresh blood and open minds, often involving either winemakers who’ve spent years crossing hemispheres learning their trade from a variety of sources or even later-life career changers who come at things completely unencumbered. It’s not hard to see how this fosters a spirit of ‘why not?’, free from the decades of ever more prescriptive regulation that bedevils many of France’s top appellations. Frankly, it’s a lot of fun.
It’s also worth noting that we’re overwhelming net importers of wine in the UK – domestic production makes up around only 2 per cent of consumption, despite all the noise – and that 98 per cent is either increasingly challenging to get hold of, or subject to spiralling cost increases (thanks, Brexit, Covid and a dreadful 2021 harvest in much of Europe). Being able to swing by your local vineyard and pick up a case has never seemed more attractive. Roughly 50 per cent of domestic sales are either from cellar door or via winery website, and producers with deeper profits are ramping up staycation capacity to capitalise. The booze cruise to the mainland may be slowly dying, but how about a winey weekend in the South Downs? No pre-flight PCR, passenger locator form or quarantine hotel required.
What does it taste like?
As you’d expect from a youthful industry that has little by way of stylistic regulation or inherited expectations, generalisations are tricky. Despite the odd heatwave this is still a cool climate, so big bruising 15.5 per cent abv reds are out, but otherwise the whole gamut of colours, styles and sweetness levels are being made – which may come as a surprise if you’ve only encountered supermarket own label English fizz. Big retailers tend to only stock a tiny proportion of what’s out there, and usually in a middle-of-the-road crowd-pleasing style, so it’s well worth calling into independent shops, quality wine merchants or even local delis and farm shops to unearth something a little different. And if you want to visit a producer you needn’t even leave the City – we’ve got wineries stashed under railway arches (Blackbook, Renegade), tucked down alleyways (Urban Cru) and in the shadow of Battersea power station (Vagabond).
What should I buy?
A great introduction to Beaujolais’ charms is a good quality Villages such as that from the Wine Society (£7.95, online). If this floats your boat, you could then move onto the iconic Marcel Lapierre’s ‘Raisins Gaulois’ (2021 vintage due to land soon, usually around £16 from various indie retailers) which the word ‘smashable’ was invented for, or the supremely elegant Fleurie ‘La Roilette’ from Bernard Metrat (£15.95, Berry Bros & Rudd).
At the more structured and brooding end of the crus, Jean-Marc Burgaud makes superb quality Morgon (£18, Virgin Wines), or try Chateau Thivin’s ‘Les 7 Vignes’ (VINVM, £19) which has an added splash of Chardonnay for bonus freshness. The sheer drinkability of all these wines often means more than a bottle is needed – so picking up a magnum of Jean Foillard’s Morgon Cote du Py (£77, Berry Bros & Rudd) could be a smart move if you’ve got friends over. Or even if you haven’t frankly.