Eat, drink and play bingo.
Red or white?
Venetia Thompson takes refuge from austerity Britain in a night of wine bingo: a fast-growing game that combines the spirit of the Mecca Ballroom with the palate of the vintner Bingo is a game that I have never really seen the point of — despite recent advertising campaigns attempting to market it as the new raucous ‘girls’ night out’ of choice. It was thus with trepidation that I climbed Home House’s grand staircase and entered one of their private rooms along with 30 other guests for a game of wine bingo. I was swiftly handed a glass of something light and fizzy, thankfully, and all images of fat, single, middle-aged Gala-dwelling women and their legs-11 disappeared. It was only when I reached for what from a distance looked like a macadamia nut in a round basket, but was in fact a bingo ball, that I remembered that I was there to play a game, and that I probably needed glasses.
Wine bingo was devised by the London club’s head sommelier Nicolas Pierron two years ago, and is now a bi-monthly sell-out event with a cult following. Some guests have even been known to bring spreadsheets and wine study-guides to maximise their chances of winning the many bottles of wine on offer. However, the grand prize, which on this occasion was a magnum of Château le Prieure, Pomerol 2002, could only be won by getting a ‘full house’ — and that would be left reassuringly down to chance and who could shout ‘Bingo!’ the fastest.
Wine bingo regulars aside, many guests are just here for a fun evening trying wines that they would perhaps normally avoid, and to test their blind-tasting capabilities. The rules made more sense after a few glasses of wine. Each guest is given a bingo card; Nicolas then commences the game by calling out numbers which are struck off in the usual bingo fashion. All fairly straightforward so far.
Then he will call out the immortal words, ‘This is for a wine tasting’, at which point everyone braces themselves, and if you’re lucky enough to have the next number called, you win a bottle of wine and, more importantly, the secret details and identity of the wine everyone else then has to taste blindly. Nicolas then moves around the room asking the guests to name the wine’s grape variety, vintage and country. The guest with the answers will confirm ‘one answer correct’, or ‘two correct’ until by process of elimination, or sometimes even skill, someone manages to get all three details correct. They will then win a bottle of wine and the game continues until six wines (three white, three red) have been tasted and identified. The game then carries on until someone finally shouts ‘Bingo!’ having got a full house and the magnum is awarded.
With the exception of the wine bingo regulars — who could be identified by their infuriated cries of, ‘Damn, I forgot my spreadsheet’, and who had set about drawing tables and graphs on the back of their bingo cards before everyone else had even sat down — everyone seemed a little confused. One gentleman enthusiastically waved his arm in the air, shouting ‘Yes!’ every time that he crossed off a number and looking mystified when nothing happened.
However, despite several false starts, we finally made it to our first blind tasting. The room buzzed with questions — was the shape of the bottle a trick? Had it been decanted? Alsace, 2006, the grape that I can’t pronounce and don’t like? Gewurt? I’m getting honey with undertones of petrol? — until it was finally established that we were drinking a 2005 Domaine Ribeauvillé Muscat.
And the drinking continued as we navigated our way from Alsace to Marlborough, New Zealand, to a 2007 Sauvignon Blanc, all three elements correctly identified by our resident Kiwi, all the way to our final white wine... another 2007 Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc. Nicolas had cunningly fooled everyone, the trickster.
We returned once again to crossing off our numbers, although by this point one guest had given up altogether, remarking inconsolably, ‘I’ve had a long week. None of my numbers are coming up, it’s all Vimto to me and my glass is now empty. I’d like to order an extra bottle over here and just get pissed.’ Thankfully there was then a break, for the lady on my right to ‘slide down the banisters to the ladies’ as she loudly announced, and for everyone else to enjoy the much needed alcohol-absorbing finger food. Nicolas and his assistant Colin disappeared, returning armed with morsels of seared tuna and a bite-sized variation on aubergine parmigiano; swiftly followed by crudités, a small plate of mushroom risotto, and a selection of cheeses. Then came miniature portions of bangers and mash and chicken curry — a strangely eccentric assortment that was in perfect keeping with the light-hearted nature of the evening.
And so to the reds, the first of which was a total mystery. Not only was it a blend of two grapes, both of which had to be guessed correctly, but it was of an entirely unknown origin. We finally arrived at 2002 Cabernet Sauvignon/Merlot, but only after everyone had had several guesses, ranging from Georgia to Portugal, was it finally correctly identified as Brazilian by my banister-sliding neighbour who announced, ‘I’m pissed. It was just a lucky guess.’ We were then back on familiar territory with another NZ wine, this time Stonebridge’s 2006 Pinot Noir, before ending with Argentina’s migraine-inducing Luigi Bosca 2006 Syrah.
But there was still the small matter of the magnum of Pomerol to be settled, so it was eyes down for the final furlong. And then, like the end of any good Friday night, there was a fight.
‘But I shouted “Bingo” before him! He shouted “Yes”, since when has that been the correct way of claiming a full house? Nicolas, I’ve been robbed! It’s my magnum! You can’t give it to a fellow Frenchman!’ An awkward silence descended. Nicolas looked at Colin, Colin looked at Nicolas, and a bottle of Pinot Grigio was hurriedly awarded as a consolation prize to the furious New Zealander, which only fuelled her rage further. It was only when the victorious Frenchman approached our table and went in for an apologetic kiss that all was finally forgiven.
Sadly, the bingo was now over, but our table was so enamoured with the concept that we slid downstairs to the bar, and continued our blind tasting into the night, with the bar staff obligingly strapping napkins around the bottles.
And that is the beauty of wine bingo. It can be played anytime, anywhere, and is even a fun way of getting rid of all those bottles of wine that have built up over the years that no one will drink. You’ll need: a few bottles of wine; start with the vaguely drinkable and end with the highly undrinkable (no one will notice), napkins and sticky tape to disguise your bottles, bingo balls (careful, these can be a choking hazard), and bingo cards (can be printed off online). And finally, one perfectly charming French sommelier to keep the peace.
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