Fast Movers: 3 Popular Wines in London Today

Perhaps deep down I’ve always subscribed to the Oscar Wilde school of thought that Everything Popular is Wrong. So imagine my surprise when I asked my friends in wine shops to tell me what is popular. What wines are making people crazy with excitement? Having some time on my hands this month, I also witnessed the frenzy first hand. These wines’ popularity defy the prescription that wine has to be cheap, boring and of the same-same grape variety. If these styles are popular, then I am sure Oscar Wilde would approve my longing to be wrong:

Delicious Chance: Essencia at Chez Bruce

By delicious chance, just three weeks before the year finishes, I finally tasted the number one wine on my 2010 Wish List: Tokaji Essencia (1993).

Well.

English Wine Week: Curiouser & Curiouser

Curiouser and Curiouser, said Alice in Wonderland, and she could equally be saying the same about English Wine. As it's English Wine Week (29th May - 6th June), let's go down the rabbit hole and find the English Wine bottle labelled DRINK ME.

The Problem with Pinot Grigio UK

Pinot Grigio found in the UK could almost be the perfect drink: it's plainer than water, it's nearly the same colour and it's not much more in price than a good bottle of sparkling... water.

Bazaar not Bizarre: Modern Turkish Wine

A mark of intelligence is how to answer stupid questions in a smart way. And before I went to this year's London International Wine Fair, I had many stupid questions about Turkish wine.

Let's start with the basics. Isn't Turkey Islamic? Are Islamic cultures allowed to make and sell alcohol? Is it going to be rough traditional wine that will give me headache? Can you buy wine in restaurants there? Where is this wine drunk? How do you even pronounce the grape? Is it even a grape or a style of wine?

Bordeaux En Primeur 2009 vs The Volcano

Ejafjallajokull may have told Europe to kiss it's ash during the week, but volcano or no volcano, the 2009 En Primeur show must go on.

En Primeur - five questions to ask before you buy

What is En Primeur?

En Primeur is the art of buying wine when it is still in cask before it is bottled. There is usually a two year wait before it is finally delivered, which happens shortly after the wine is bottled and shipped. After vintage, wine merchants and writers visit the Estates, Domaines or Chateau to assess the quality for their customers. This is when the campaign begins.

In the United States, buying wine En Primeur is known as Wine Futures, which is slightly more demystifying; it clearly links the buying of unbottled wine in cask to the concept of buying futures on the stockmarket. It's the same level of reward. And risk.

For those who don’t know much about Bordeaux, En Primeur can be on the trickier end of wine buying. For those who do, it can be a way to buy wine at a relatively low price which returns decades of enjoyment.

However, unlike other forms of investment, it’s a speculation you can eventually enjoy drinking. And if you do it right, you’ll always have quality wine on hand at a fraction of the future shelf price.

Right now, wine merchants are coming back with their report on the 2009 vintage in Bordeaux. Each year there will is a lot of hype between the facts; so, what do you look for when buying wine two years before it is bottled, often without having the chance to taste it?

Despite the very top Chateau bought on allocation (which means, only people who have a track record of buying Chateau such as Mouton-Rothschild etc are considered), there are still plenty of excellent buys to be found in Bordeaux. The question is how to pick wines right for you.

Five Questions to Ask

1. Are you buying from a reputable, solvent wine merchant who has a track history of delivering En Primeur?
2. Does this wine have the ability to age for at least 10 years (especially, Bordeaux)?
3. Is the base price reasonable enough to allow future growth in price?
4. Is this a good property but undervalued with respect to quality?
5. Is this one of the good to great vintages?

I remember one man at the Burgundy En Primeur in January wincing over an unbottled red, "At this stage," he said, "It's like children when they are young, you never really know how they will really turn out. And I've made some mistakes!" But he was still there again at the yearly tastings.

Apart from asking these 5 questions, I suggest starting with a Chateau you know and like, develop a relationship with your wine merchant over a period time and, most importantly, listen to your instincts!

Link: Ten wines to buy 2009 Bordeaux En Primeur

This is England

One year in London to the day.

"Posh Dinosaur" (an advertisement on TV here) sums up my experience in the wine industry here quite neatly, thank you very much.

If you would be so kind as to watch it I'd be ever so pleased.

Splendid. Wonderful.

Much love, xjmd

Pomegranate Noir, by Jo Malone (2005)

scene from Metropolis

"The inspiration for Pomegranate Noir came to Jo Malone after she saw one of her friends dressed up in a red silk dress at a middle eastern hookah party all the while stuffing dollar bills in her cleavage." – reviewer, Base Notes

If you have been invited to an eccentric 81-year-old billionaire's party in Convent Garden as a thank you for helping him hide in your cellar from his ex-wife's (famous you-know-who) lawyer serving him notices for over £50 million, then wear Pomegranate Noir.

The invitation says the party is to "commiserate a dissolute, wasted, wanton life. But fun. No flowers - come if you can."

No flowers - come if you can. An apt description of Pomegranate Noir; debauched fruit, almost bruised, and dark frankincense mixed with the eternal smells of decadence: musk and patchouli.

More noir than pomegranate fruit, it almost scars the memory with it's wickedness. In a fun way, of course.


Link: Base Notes

water no get enemy

If there's no wine left, I'll definitely try water. Just as Fela Kuti sings, water no get enemy (see song below).

A real treat in Paris, apart from the excellent African musicians in the Metro (if I am not listening to Fela Kuti on the ipod), is the huge range of water on sale at the local supermarkets. They all have different tastes from the downright funky to soft-as-a-pillow.

Today I had a pristine English still water called Hildon. It is the purest water I have ever tasted. Totally palate cleansing. It is even in a 750ml glass bottle, perfectly complemented to the size of a bottle of wine.

Apart from San Pelligrino, with more calcium than milk, this is my new favourite water. It also has high calcium content. I know there are a lot of people against bottled water, and I know the ancient Greeks didn't have much good to say about any water, but water has got no enemy here - bottled or tap.

honkeyfinger: invocation of the demon other

"Anybody singing the blues is in a deep pit yelling for help." - Mahalia Jackson at Rick Saunders breaks his silence

On my first or second night after arriving in London I heard about a night called, Not the Same Old Blues Crap, and you know I got a bit upset when I saw it, almost offended. That's my music you're talking about. You punks!

Ha! OK, the blues is a loaded word in itself, meaning different things to different people. Sure, I agree – there are too many boring Budweiser advertising types play their three chords at their 5oth birthday party... blah.

If that is you, no need to read any further.

Still here? Good. Then you'll like Honkeyfinger's new album called Invocation of the Demon Other. It is listening in the n'th dimension. This is what the harp sounds like very far away in another galaxy. The minor blues keys in distortion twanged the aorta vessel in my heart so much it hurt.

That's pretty much my working definition of the blues (when you're thinking evil).

A few songs grabbed me by the neck and wouldn't let go: Margarine Man, Trouble, The Sloth, True Believers and Burning Skull blues, amongst others.

If you know, love, or ARE the blues you will have your minds opened to possibility and your ears reconfigured. Run, don't walk.

And if you are in Minneapolis, check him out at the Deep Blues Festival at Lake Elmo, July 19.

Link: Great myspace page and website.
Link: Blues in London: interview with Honkeyfinger

warm leatherette

Grace Jones at Meltdown Festival, Royal Festival Hall London, June 20, 2008:

'Warm Leatherette', one of the songs that broke her out of the underground in 1980, is a JG Ballard-derived track that sexualises a car crash. Tonight it is a singalong. 'You sing "warm", motherfuckers!' commands Jones, holding two cymbals up threateningly.

It's always tempting to use "WARM leatherette" to describe some red wines. Sometimes I have a secret desire to yell out WARRRM at red wine tastings in sterile tastings room. And also, my other favourite line:

Quick, let's make love before we die!


Link: Live Reviews: Thoroughly modern millinery - Guardian

in love

A happy photo from where I live in London. He looks like he is in love!


Wine Woman & Song HEART photography by Yvan Rodic.


Link: Face Hunter: on the street, soho + fitzrovia + brick lane, 14 June 2008

Jack The Ripper Slash Bansky

The Decapitator's Flickr photostream

An anonymous East Londoner handy with a knife – sound familiar?


Exactly one hundred and twenty years after the Jack the Ripper murders, his ghost still looms large around his old stomping ground through an anonymous graffiti artist who decapitates ad posters.


Blink.


You may miss it.


Like this one for Uniqlo on Shoreditch High Street/Old Street E1. Or the truly ghoulish Carrie Bradshaw in the Sex and the City movie poster on Mare Street in Hackney.


Despite many people at the time claiming to be Jack the Ripper, the case remains unsolved.


The most famous confession letter began, "Dear Boss..." in cut-out words from the newspaper.


Decapitated advertising in 21st-century East London?


This is "Dear Boss," writ large.


Link: Mysterious Headless corpses found all over London

Rock of crack

"Chris Rock has been enjoying his time in
London, and popped into Rough Trade records
to do some shopping. Staff were so excited
they asked him to sign the ceiling.


He wrote “I love crack”."


Surely he's not referring to certain English musicians?


LOLZ.



Link: popbitch

Kurt Cobain at Rough Trade East

Kurt Cobain (1993) by Steve Gullick

Yesterday saw Steve Gullick's photographic exhibition, "Tenebrous" at Rough Trade East, Brick Lane, London E1 61L.

Like when you see a bird with a broken wing, and cry, "Look, it's hurt. (can't you do something?)" A crowd of girls stood around this photo and said, "Oh, it's Kurt...(can't we do something?)."


*sigh*


Link: Steve Gullick website


ps. Tenebrous = dark, shadowy or obscure.

Secretions magnifique: blood, sex - magic?

What does a perfume that smells of blood, sweat, saliva and sperm smell like? Harvey Nichols in Knightsbridge is the only place in London selling this "exclusive" scent by Etat Libre d`Orange. I jumped on the (not-so-fragrant) tube to find out.

In the perfume section, Secretions magnifique is easy to find. How many perfumes in Harvey Nichols feature a school boy drawing of a cock? This is anti-perfume; I get it. Ingredients: agreement adrenalin, agreement milk, agreement blood, iris, coconut (?), sandalwood...etc.

Here goes. I spray it on my wrist; my friend jumps a metre back.

Trauma in a Bottle

Do you know what broken bones and blood smells like? It all flooded back. Nine years ago – after a few drinks, we crossed the road and my friend was hit by a car. Blood poured from the crack in his forehead. I held his head up, to keep him talking, while we waited for the ambulance. The traffic passed around us. It was nearly midnight, but the bitumen was still warm from the day.

Smell is the most primitive of the senses. I was shocked a perfume could provoke this deep, visceral memory. This is not hyperbole; it felt shocking. Yet the perfume presents itself as an intellectual concept: magnificent secretions.

I tried to smell my wrist again - I wanted to keep an open mind, maybe it will change into something else? - but it literally made my stomach turn. All I could "smell" was confusion, panic, flashing sirens, exhaust fumes and too much alcohol thrown into the mix. Perhaps, it was just me: but could it smell better on another person?

Whatever. I had to get it off; this smell, this memory. Even the expensive Harvey Nichols' bathroom soap didn't help the nausea – and worst of all – I could not get the smell off my skin.

After I calmed down a bit I couldn't help but thinking, who would like this? Perhaps the sado-masochist in your life who owns everything. Although at £75 you'd want to be stinking rich.

Personally, I'd rather a night out, wake up next to some take-out trash in a dirty bed, still in my clothes from the night before, smelling of tequila and stale cigarettes, catch the humid tube to work, hungover, with my nose smashed up against some sweaty businessman's armpit. Now how do we bottle that?

Link: New perfume smells of semen and sweat - London Metro

In Wonderland: Screaming Tea Party, Bar Rumba

"At any rate I'll never go THERE again!' said Alice as she picked her way through the wood. `It's the stupidest tea-party I ever was at in all my life!'

- Alice in Wonderland

Wednesday night. I am alone, both big and small at the same time like Alice down the Rabbit hole; I'm at Bar Rumba in Shaftesbury Avenue. "Drink Me?" asks Alice to the bottle. Oh yeah, I think I will, I'm in the mood for a riddle.

But every time I try to leave for the bar, I can't – what if I miss something? - what are they doing? Oh, I know this song, I think... what's going to happen next? Alice might not like a Tea Party, but I do. Especially one like this: a peculiarly-deranged, Screaming Tea Party.

This is not your average fairytale: it is a hyper collection of vicious riffs and scary lullabies. The band is based in London, but it feels like a trip inside the Manga story, Abandon the Old in Tokyo. The bassist/singer is in a sexy sarong, yet the guitarist is shredding his gaffa-taped axe and wears a black kerchief over his face. Then there's the very lovely kawaii-des-ne? girl on the drums that sorta makes your heart melt.

Every expectation is berzerked: kamikaze-like jumping from amps, old punk favourites readdressed like they OWN it, yet out of nowhere, a touch of the cymbal so soft it's painful; like a sweet lotion after an aural thrashing. The set itself became a fascinating riddle: Death Egg, a futuristic lullaby contrasts with the London punk redux of Between air and air. Like all good songs they are familiar, yet new and uncanny; I found myself saying, in my best nineteenth century voice, "That is very curious!"

I didn't leave the set for a drink... which is a very good sign at a gig, even if it is rather strange for a tea party. But it makes perfect sense at a Screaming Tea Party. What will they do next? Curious and curiouser – and, unlike Alice, I definitely want to go again. And get a bit stupid.

Link: Screaming Tea Party's myspace

Camden Town is burning down

"And to London, this is for London cause Camden Town ain't burning down."
- Amy Winehouse, Grammy speech for Best Album.

I don't even like seeing a pub closed after 11pm – let alone burned to the ground...

After my first thought – nope, it wasn't me – my second thought was, if Amy can start again, and look wonderfuckingful at the Grammys after her stint at rehab (and away from the front page of London Lite), then there's plenty of hope for her favourite gin-joint, the Hawley Arms.

As Noel Fielding from The Mighty Boosh told NME today, "The Hawley will bounce back stronger than ever I'm sure."

And no jokes about crack pipes. Leave the girl alone (I won't hear it).

Link: Amy Winehouse shocked, speechless - wins Grammy