THE WONDERFUL WORLD OF WINE
Enough to make a hog whimper
Boris Johnson on The Spectator's first-ever Political Wine Lunch
NICHOLAS Soames looked at the wine list. He counted them slowly. There were seven wines, and we were barely on the second glass of champagne. We had perhaps two and a half hours to master the entire syl- labus. 'I am going to get hogwhimpering drunk,' said the former Minister for the Armed Forces and Spectator wine columnist.
He spoke not with fear, or regret, or even with any particular relish. It was just the way things were going to turn out. This was a wine-tasting, when it is necessary to get drunk in the interests of scholarship. By the time Soames and I were finishing the second glass, we were joined by Robert Marshall-Andrews, the Labour MP, who faintly resembles a thuggish French detec- tive while writing thrillers and contriving to be the proprietor of an African game reserve. Mr Marshall-Andrews thought the champagne was first-rate, though there was `not enough' of it in his glass. After an interval to allow him an ade- quate sample, we were rejoined by the lead- er of the festivities, the thaliarch, and the man to whom this magazine owes everything for its first-ever Political Wine Lunch. Sir David Mitchell is the chairman of El Vino, and he had been upstairs to the dining-room to check on the rest of his donation. He now appeared with a kind of Lord Mayor's rib- bon about his neck, from which was sus- pended a silver goblet, elaborately chased. This denoted, I think, his sacerdotal role in dispensing the wine. The champagne was universally approved, and Sir David revealed that Louis Boyier champagne was named after his grandfather, Alfred Louis Bauer. It had won a bronze medal in a recent international wine compe- tition, and was running out of El Vino 'like bathwater'. We then weaved upstairs for lunch, and the next wine, a Pouilly Fume 1997. Soames said that it had a 'lovely colour', while Ned Dawnay, the financier, opined that it was 'very good'. More adven- turously Rachel Sylvester, of the Daily Tele- graph said that the wine had a 'flinty dryness' and was faintly metallic. Some remark of Rowan Pelling, the edi- tor of the Erotic Review, prompted a long conversation about the importance of beat- ing in English schools. 'Blair was never flogged. You can see by the way he walks that he was never flogged,' said Soames. To which Kimberly Fortier, the publisher of The Spectator, replied that she, for her part, had never been flogged either. This earned her an approving look from Sir Peter Tapsell, MP. There was less wholehearted enthusiasm for the next of Sir David's con- tributions, a Mercurey Blanc 'Les Mauv- erennes' 1997. Soames opened the bidding with `God, that is delicious', and I was happy to agree. But he was soon contradicted by Ned Dawnay.
`I don't know,' said Mr Dawnay. 'It doesn't ring my bell,' he went on. 'I am not sure I like the taste,' he continued, in case we had missed the point. 'It almost tastes as if it is off,' he said, warming to his theme. Sir David took this very well. 'I'm not in the least disappointed if you say you don't like it. Each to their own,' he said. With his natural tact, Soames then said, `My grandfather had a very good racehorse called Pol Roger,' and went on to tell a heart-rending story of how it had broken its leg on the gallops. Bruce Anderson, The Spectator's political columnist, then began a story about Ted Heath at the races.
Slirney,' said Soames, 'that must have been a jolly gathering. I drank a bottle of Pol. Roger '75 last night,' he continued, 'not to my own gun, of course.' Sir David explained that a magnum is intended for two gentlemen over dinner. Just then I had an insight into the Mercurey Blanc. 'It tastes a bit like Chardonnay,' I said. 'It is a Chardonnay,' said Sir David.
We emptied the dregs into a big silver bucket in the middle of the table, and embarked on the first of the red wines, the Château Coucy 1995, Montagne St-Emil- ion. Kimberly Fortier was of the belief encouraged by her father — that this was a woman's drink. 'You are all a bunch of poofters,' she said. This produced another fond look from Sir Peter. My notes are now becoming hard to read, mainly because they are covered with a large pink splodge. No one seems to have said any- thing more enlightening about the Château Coucy, though during the drink- ing of the next wine, the Château Leoville Poyferre 1993, Pauillac, Sir Peter Tapsell told a very funny story. 'I once told a joke to Mrs Thatcher,' he began. 'We don't want to hear it,' shouted someone, possi- bly Bruce Anderson or Nicholas Soames.
Sir Peter continued: 'Mrs Thatcher once said to me, "Peter, when I first knew you, you were a socialist"; and I said to her, "Margaret, when I first knew you, you were a brunette." ' It took some time for the gales of laughter to abate and, when they did, I found that Sir David was quietly trying to explain to me the differences between the great districts of the Haut-Medoc. These are the Margaux, the St-Julien, and the Pauillac. The Margaux had a gentle femininity, he said; the St-Julien an austere femininity — a `Thatcher of a wine' — while the Pauillac `has all the virtues, which is not to say that it is sexless.'
Just then we became aware of some more throat-clearing from Ned Dawnay. 'It's still quite closed,' he said. Bruce Anderson seemed to think the wine could be stored for some years, with no ill-effects. Rubbish, said Sir Peter Tapsell. We should learn from the French, he said. 'The French as a race drink their wines far younger than the English do. My present wife is French, and they all say it's an English affectation. You don't put it down and wait ten years,' he said. Directing the full force of his charm at Kimberly Fortier, he continued: 'Marriage is the most singular activity. At school one is in the rugger team. In marriage you are locked up with one partner.'
At this point he was urged to moderate his language by Soames. 'You are embarrassing my friend Bruce.' The meal was now moving gently towards its conclusion. We had two ports — the El Vino Vintage Character Port, and the Gould Campbell 1983 Port and though they were both delicious, my only record is that Soames showed a daz- zling discernment in seeing that one of them was 'an interesting mixture' between tawny and vintage. It must have been four or possi- bly five o'clock when the tasting came to an end. Sir Peter took both Kimberly's hands in his, and announced that he had found a wonderful woman. We all felt that we had learnt something important. Our heartfelt thanks to Sir David Mitchell and El Vino.
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