Great expectorations

Simon Hoggart

There are endless variations, and all of them control the nausea and temper tantrums associated with diets clipped from the Daily Mail women's pages. Or you can forget all that 'health food' junk and have instead two large chocolate McDonald's milk-shakes, which come to 19 points.

It worked. I lost about 10 lbs in a month. Then I went to Italy, and had a slip. Every weekend since I have told myself that this is my last pig-out, and on Monday I'll start dieting again — or eating sensibly (for that's all dieting is). This past weekend was no different. But what was this? On Sunday morning I checked my email and found an ad for Apple Cider Vinegar +. Here's the scoop: 'Lose up to 30 lbs in a month. . . ALL NATURAL & NO SIDE EFFECTS' . . and NO PAINFUL DIETING OR EXERCISE!' And it's not just weight you'll lose. All your cares and worries will go too. For Apple Cider Vinegar + (in pill form) increases energy and vitality, promotes anti-aging and prevents prostate problems. Just in case you are sceptical, the folks from Cider Vinegar + throw in some science and history: 'Records show that as far back as 3000 BC the Egyptians were using apple cider vinegar not just as an antiseptic. but as a weight loss agent as well.'

So let's hold that diet for another week. I mean, you'd be crazy not to try Apple Cider Vinegar +. Make that a double cheeseburger to go.

I'VE been wine correspondent of The Spectator for nearly two years now, and I've loved every moment. People often say something on the lines of: you jammy devil, you lucky bastard, how did you get a job like that, it must be marvellous, can we have some? And I say, yes it is. It's a terrific job. And one of the greatest pleasures is sharing wine with your friends and family. For instance, we sometimes get sent more wine than we can finish. I will try some of each bottle and persuade others to give me their opinion. But at the end of the evening there may be a dozen bottles, each three-quarters full, and no sign of a boeuf bourgignon to pour them into. I assumed that neighbours might be offended if they found some of these remainders plonked on their doorsteps, as if we regarded them as a convenient bottle bank. This has not proved the case.

Now and again I meet wine writers who tell me what a hard row they have to plough, how demanding the task is, and how trying 350 wines in the course of a day is a grind like any other job. I'm sure they're right. I could never do it myself, because I can't spit. For a wine writer, not being able to spit is like being a pizza delivery boy who can't ride a scooter. It's fundamental. Others spit, some in a messy, mind-my-tie sort of way, others like Jancis Robinson, with terrific grace, as if she featured in a fountain in some Italian palazzo. Oh, I can physically expectorate; what I can't do is sense what the stuff would taste like just by swilling it round the mouth, up past the gums, sucking in air like a malfunctioning geyser, and then pushing a disgusting mixture of warm alcohol and saliva into a spittoon. I need to drink it. That's what the wine experience is.

Years ago I went to a German wine shippers in Pall Mall with a very distinguished wine writer. The first we tried was a Sylvaner. A modicum was poured for the very distinguished writer, who drew it in, swirled it around, held his head back, made a sort of death-rattle gargling noise, then committed it to a wash-basin. 'That was delicious!' he exclaimed, adding, 'But I don't think I'd want to swallow it!' Everyone else nodded in agreement, as if this were a perfectly sensible thing to say. I assume that the wild choking noise in my throat was attributed to an attempt to oxygenate the Niersteiner.

What have I learnt over the two years? Well, the first is confidence. If you like a wine, then you like it. There's nothing more pointless in letting someone else tell you what's good. If people enjoy the wines I recommend, I'm delighted. Those who don't share my palate will go elsewhere. If you happen to think Blue Nun and Mateus Rosé are the nicest wines of all, you're very lucky, and can spend the money you save on shoes, or beer, or your children's education. Most people do find that pricier, sophisticated wines are, after a while, more pleasing and more satisfying than Black Tower or Le Plat d'Or. But it's your choice, and you should never let other people's taste or other people's snobbery get in your way.

Secondly, a famous name means little. It's a personal thing, but I get more and more disillusioned with red Bordeaux. A few times I've been to tastings of rather posh wines, and thought, well, this is nice, yes, it's got lots of flavour and a lovely aroma and a nice, cedary touch. But for £250 a bottle? You can easily pay £40 or £50 for a wine that contains so much tannin that you'll feel your stomach has had an enema. At this point you're not buying wine to drink; you're buying it to impress people with how rich you are, or perhaps to

lay down and sell later to Japanese businessmen with more money than sense.

Chablis is another offender. There are good examples at about £7 or £8, but not very many. I've recommended one or two. though only after trying plenty more. Yet time and again I meet people who say proudly, 'We've bought in a Chablis for lunch!' and only politeness stops you saying that it tastes like mouth-puckering chalk dust.

So what would I recommend? Where's the value these days? The great news is that there are some fabulous wines around. Parts of France are now producing delectable wines for a fraction of the price of the great châteaux and the best-known negociants. The Languedoc is now full of tremendous producers, creating rich, fullflavoured wines which are spicy and herby and altogether delicious. Spain is making some fabulous wines now. Everyone knows about Rioja, but poke around the shelves (or buy from The Spectator wine club) and you'll find more fat, scrumptious, fruit-sodden wines from Spain.

New Zealand is offering some stunning bottles. Their Sauvignon Blanes are familiar (and please don't bother with Cloudy Bay, which is a delicious wine, but woefully overpriced), but they are now making luscious Chardonnays and. increasingly, Pinot Noirs which compete with and often beat real Burgundies. The problem is that Pinot Noir needs a lot of labour, which makes it pricy, and some New Zealand wineries are getting a somewhat exaggerated idea of their own worth. The bestvalue wines are going to he less than £15.

English wines are still struggling to get a toehold. At present they count for less than half of 1 per cent of all the wine sold in this country. But 2002 has been a fabulous vintage, thanks to all that late sun shine, and the stuff is getting better by the year. Some of the sparkling wines have a rich, appley flavour which is quite different from champagne, and every bit as nice as the price equivalents from, say, Australia.

Wines go out of fashion and the price drops. People have gone off German wines over the past 20 years or so, and sales can't have been helped by a dim-witted advertising campaign featuring bank managers who used to be hippies saying, 'I've changed. So has German wine,' as if to say, I'm middle-aged and boring now. So is German wine.' Sweeter wines are perfect as aperitifs, and many German wines have a powerful, concentrated floral taste which makes them excellent value.

Beaujolais is suffering a terrible crisis now. They have only themselves to blame, because the great Beaujolais Nouveau scam taught an increasingly knowledgeable Britain that the stuff was only good for topping up batteries. The great Beaujolais names, Fleurie, Moulin-a-Vent and the rest, are smooth, mellow and delightful. They are also undervalued.

Look, too, to Argentina, making potent, dark wines from the likes of the Malbec grape, East Europe — Hungary is coming up with some excellent whites — and even, ludicrously. Canada, which, having given the world some of the ghastliest wines ever produced anywhere, is now making very fine intense sweet wines. Best of all is South Africa, a subject on which I am a worldclass bore. They are now coming up with subtle and complex wines which, if they came from France, California or Australia, would cost half as much again. But it's your decision. We have a far wider choice of wines available in the average liquor store here than in any other country in the world, including the US. We are \Ten lucky.