Author: Sophie Thorpe

Under the knife: Café Deco

Look at Anna Tobias’s Instagram and it is deliciously ugly. The queen of #beigefood, she’s a refreshing counter to the curated profiles of London’s leading culinary talent. There’s no portrait mode, no careful lighting, no considered plating and careful ceramic selection. Indeed, her trademark has become the Chartier plate.

It’s a neat embodiment of the food you’ll find at Café Deco, her Bloomsbury restaurant that opened in the heart of the pandemic in late 2020, a collaboration with the 40 Maltby Street team. On the quiet of Store Street, it glows welcomingly, with the soft light and a stripped-back feel under its soft green awning. But there’s an Old World classicism here, with white table cloths and tealights that feel reminiscent of a French bistro or Italian trattoria rather than modish London eatery.

The menu is hard to describe, at once determinedly British, yet with classical French and Italian influence running through it. Modern European is a disservice to this very gentle combination that seems both familiar and totally refreshing.

Flawless sourdough and creamy salted butter set the tone – offered here without an additional charge, a rarity beyond the most expensive establishments. Smoked mackerel with beetroot and horseradish chrain (£11) is a statement in simplicity: the pleasing chunk of mackerel closeted in its iridescent skin, bones and all, pertly placed alongside a pile of firm and flavoursome, vibrant beetroot cut by the fire of horseradish. A mouthful of the pumpkin caponata and baked ricotta (£12) offered the perfect balance of sweet and sour, with the soothing creaminess to balance its intensity.

Beef mince on dripping toast, watercress and pickled walnut (£25) cries out to me – and rightfully so on a wet and windy November evening. But this is no Quality Chop knock-off. The oblong of toast is crisp, the mince an honest and subtle alternative to its Farringdon friend – less decadent, rich and gout-inducing, yet no less comforting. A perfect pickled walnut provides the sharp bite to prevent the plate’s reassuring brown-ness becoming bland. Roast halibut, potatoes and salsa verde (£28) sees similar acclaim from my fellow diners.

Chocolate pudding pie (£9) was a triumph – the finest, crispest pastry shell holding an almost inappropriately good chocolate ganache, layered with an almost obscene volume of pillowy whipped cream: the ensemble is one of the sexiest puds you’ll ever eat. Apple charlotte and cream (£9) leaves a Lancashire-man speechless.

Everything is simple, modest, yet executed to the finest level. It’s cooking that speaks of Tobias’s CV so far, with Jeremy Lee, the River Café and Rochelle Canteen, not to mention the P. Franco residency that I still have FOMO about. It’s not cheap, but it’s also the sort of place where you can linger, you can hear everyone around the table, where napkins are weighty, there are plentiful coat hooks. These details are the thing that elevates this from just a nice restaurant to somewhere that you can see yourself returning to time and time again.

There is but one black mark against the place. The wine list, unfortunately, is for me the only downside. It’s the sort that is obfuscatingly, determinedly natural. And few bottles sit below the £50 mark, making most choices risky. The wait-staff were delightful, but I’m not convinced they’d be particularly helpful in guiding you to a safe choice. On the upside, corkage is available, at £25, which is worth doing if you plan to drink well.

Take a bottle, or just savour the joys of #beigefood pure – I can guarantee you won’t regret it.

Café Deco, 43 Store Street, London WC1E 7DB

Advertisement

Saving Venice’s vines

Matteo Bisol amongst the vines at Venissa

When I first heard about Venissa, I was baffled. Think of Venice and its waterways, and viticulture is unlikely to be the first thing to come to mind. But the lagoon as a long history of agriculture, with vines long an integral part of that tradition. And the indigenous Dorona grape, rescued from the brink of extinction by Gianluca Bisol (the Prosecco patriarch), has adapted to this waterlogged environment. The resulting wines are unique, really. Savoury, saline, pithy, textured and – with age – increasingly nutty. Wines that sit on the spectrum of Fino and Manzanilla, Savagnin sous voile and white Hermitage – they’re whites that deserve food, time and attention.

I sat down with Matteo Bisol, Gianluca’s son and Venissa’s CEO/winemaker, to talk about the wines and his family’s remarkable quest to save Venice’s viticultural heritage.

Read the article on frw.co.uk/editorial

Bordeaux 2022: a glimpse of the year’s potential

A shot of the vines basking in early October sun at Ch. Cheval Blanc in Saint-Emilion

Earlier this month I spent a day and a half zipping around Bordeaux’s top châteaux talking to producers about the just-picked 2022s. Even with some ferments not yet finished, it’s already clear that this was an extraordinary year. Anyone on social media will remember the frosts that arrived in April and the summer’s fires, with hot and dry conditions throughout – but, despite these challenges, it looks set to be a blockbuster year. As you can see from the picture above at Cheval Blanc, the vines (at most addresses) were still green and lush in early/mid-October, which is remarkable considering the year’s conditions. The only possible fly in the ointment is acidity, with the year’s notably low malic acid levels and generally high pH. Read my full post-harvest report – with thoughts from Noemie Durantou Reilhac at Eglise-Clinet/Vignobles Durantou, Philippe Bascaules at Ch. Margaux, Pierre-Olivier Clouet at Cheval Blanc and Guillaume Pouthier at Les Carmes Haut-Brion – at frw.co.uk/editorial, here.

Brit Nat: embracing the alt-side of English sparkling wine

The line-up of wines at the Brit-Nat tasting, held at The Sourcing Table

I was in Burgundy for work a couple of weeks ago. When I explained to two French colleagues that I needed to be back in time for a tasting one evening, they kindly obliged. Luckily it was only after the flights had been booked that they found out it was a tasting of British pét-nat and alternative sparkling, a concept to which they felt significantly less kind.

The tasting was organised by Tim Wildman MW, a man who has dedicated himself entirely to the world of pét-nat (first in Australia, and now here in England). I’d followed his antics on Instagram for years, and finally encountered him for the first time earlier this year, dropping in during a panicked period of revision to taste his latest releases from Down Under. Somehow he perfectly embodies the style of wine he produces; vibrant, fun and just a little off-beat, but also clearly a technically savvy and pensive winemaker.

He’d worked for Les Caves de Pyrene before moving to Australia, and therefore already encountered the original pét-nat – méthode ancéstrale wines from around France. Making one himself was happy circumstance – a bet with a friend, and a guess that it might be the safest type of wine to attempt as a novice, especially given the flexibility of the style and its novelty in Australia. “In the land of the blind. the one-eyed man makes pét-nat,” he jests. But there was another element to.

“Back in 2014, there was a lot of cynicism in Australia about the whole idea of ‘natural wine’, not least in South Australia, the State dominated by the big brand corporates. I’d even heard leading industry figures say that it was ‘impossible’  to make wine without using sulphur,” Wildman explains. “So I guess I just wanted to prove a point. I knew that pét-nat is, theoretically at least, the least risky style of wine to make without the safety net of sulphur dioxide, as once the ferment starts the wine is always protected by carbon dioxide.”

Eight years later, it’s safe to say that his point has been proven. Pét-nat is being produced by hundreds of producers in Australia. Wildman now makes 35,000 bottles a year that are shipped off to 15 export markets. It’s hard to call anything so very slightly impractical mainstream, but it’s become a firm favourite in the natural wine scene, and a wine that broaches the lines between craft beer, kombucha and cocktails.

By Wildman’s own admission, it took him three vintages to get to the point where he was crafting zero-sulphur wine that was “fruity, fault-free and delicious”. Despite its easy style, it’s technically challenging to produce.

There are two main options for production methods. The classic approach is to bottle the wine in the middle of its primary fermentation, or by “interruption”. But many producers also inoculate a base wine, often with fresh must or sometimes sugar (“intermission”). And while once most wines would have been undisgorged, now many are. Don’t think this means you should expect crystal-clear wines, however, as many will still have the reassuring haze of natural wine.

L.A.S. Vino winemaker Nic Peterkin first made a pét-nat in 2018 (something I witnessed first-hand, while working at Pierro). ”It’s actually f*ing hard to make well for the price people want it at,” he says. The risk of getting the wrong level of lees and it not exploding on opening is all quite high. He’s adapted his method and now uses “intermission” – adding some Cabernet juice to settled white wine after racking. For him it means he can manage sugar, reduce the volume of lees and, logistically, it can be tackled at the end of vintage rather than in the heart of harvest chaos.

***

I went into this tasting far from convinced about pét-nat. I’d had mixed experiences with bottles I’d tried, but can’t claim to have dedicated a massive amount of time to the category. The tasting encompassed 37 wines, with many pét-nats, but also some that were “col fondo” style – really slightly alternative traditional method wines, designed for earlier drinking.

You can head over to Club Oenologique to read more of my thoughts on the wines, and some more background on the cateogry, but the long and short of it was that I was surprised. Only a small handful were faulty, and those that were I feared would be appreciated by many consumers. It was interesting that the wines that fizzed most uncontrollably on opening, the Vesuvii of pét-nats, were all made by the interruption method and undisgorged.

Wildman’s new UK project, Lost in a Field – and for which he’s just picked his second vintage – is clearly popular. Volumes might be small but the first release sold out rapidly. It’s capturing a moment, perhaps, a sea-change in English wine.

“It still feels like a category in its infancy, with all the best wines still ahead of it, which is how I felt about the Australian natural wine scene back in the 2000s when I was a buyer. And as a wine drinker, and wine lover, that’s the most exciting thing for me, to know that the best is yet to come.”

Read my write-up of the event for Club Oenologique, with my favourite wines from the tasting, here.

Catching up

A shot from a recent trip to Rioja: this is one of the vineyards used by CVNE for Imperial

Between studying for the MW and work, it’s been a busy year. The last few weeks have seen stops in Tuscany, Bordeaux, Rioja and Burgundy – and there’s much to report on. For now, here’s an update on jottings that you might have missed.

  • Bordeaux 2021: With primeurs week back with a bang this year, I spent an enlightening and exhausting 10 days exploring the 2021 vintage and Bordelais hospitality. It was a fascinating year to explore and there was a surprising openness from producers when it came to the challenges of this tricky season. From my first thoughts to a full report and guide by commune, I wrote extensively about it. Maligned by some of the critics, I think it’s a remarkable result given what they faced. These may not be the most age-worthy wines, but I think there’s a lot of pleasure to be had if you know where to look.
  • Tate & Lyle: Inspired by Bordeaux, I took a look at chaptalisation – something that returned to the forefront in Europe in 2021. Suddenly young producers were having to learn how to master this age-old technique to craft wines that had sufficient alcohol (and everything that comes with that – more here). It’s a nerdy read, but fascinating to see the difference of opinion – and taste the results.
  • A South African interlude: Ahead of the latest release, Klein Constantia arranged a fantastic vertical tasting of their iconic sweet wine at Trivet (my first visit, and the food was exceptional). I’ve always had a soft spot for the wine and it was interesting to taste so many vintages. Perhaps some were a little disappointing, but the trajectory is inspiring, with brighter acidity, precision and balance. Read my spotlight on Vin de Constance on FINE+RARE.
  • Burgundy 2021: After a whistle-stop three days in the region, here are my initial thoughts on the vintage. So far, it’s hard to offer a firm view. There is so much more to taste and explore and I can’t wait to get out there later in the year to delve into it fully. At the moment I am a little concerned about the varying quality of reds, although there’s promise in the whites. More to follow later this year.

Find all the above articles on frw.co.uk/editorial

Feeling the burn

Photo by Daniel Salgado on Unsplash

“What’s the alcohol?” I asked. Paul Hobbs looked rankled. He replied with a slight sigh, “14%.”

I was struck by how light the wine in question felt, his 2019 Goldrock Estate Pinot Noir, I’d guessed it was lower. When I expressed my surprise, Hobbs said something interesting – the sort of thing that doesn’t often come out of a group Zoom tasting of the latest releases from X or Y estate. But Hobbs clearly isn’t your average winemaker, with a depth of knowledge that is profound, and a clear desire to dive into the nuances of each wine he makes.

He’d said that there was much more to alcohol than a number. That it was so much more complex. That no one talked about it. Obviously, I wanted to know more.

I ask about alcohols a lot more than I used to, a result of needing to nail them blind in an MW exam, and knowing that they can provide an essential clue for a wine’s identity. Of course we know that it’s easy for alcohol to be masked by other elements in the glass, but Paul offered a fascinating eye into how climate change doesn’t just mean that there’s a little more alcohol in a wine – but is changing the very nature of the alcohol produced.

Read the full feature on frw.co.uk/editorial

The magic of miscellanea

The view down over Clos Saint-Denis

One of the most joyous things about my job is getting to write (and commission others to write) on such a range of topics. True to form, it’s been a few months since I got round to sharing my latest jottings, and putting them together for one “article dump” highlights the variety.

First up is a personal favourite, delving into the unexpectedly fascinating and murky realm of the world’s most treasured tuber: white truffles. I spoke to Rowan Jacobsen, the author of a new book on the topic – and a tale of his own journey of discovery, as well as a real-life trifulau about the truth behind the white gold shaved over your fresh pasta. Read the feature here; Jacobsen’s book, Truffle Hound, is out now – and worth every penny.

Just before my nose led me down the truffle trail, I managed to make it (post-Delta, pre-Omicron) to Burgundy to taste the 2020s. My first overseas excursion since my trip to taste the 2019s, it was unsurprisingly brilliant to be somewhere else, let alone tasting such an extraordinary vintage. As with last year, I was heavily involved in the FINE+RARE coverage of the vintage – all of which you can find here, including our overview and a breakdown of the year by producer.

Last but not least is a piece about a producer I first came across visiting Australia in 2018, the fabled Bass Phillip – an estate that made some of the best Pinot Noir and Chardonnay, I was told. I trawled shops seeking out a bottle I could afford to taste, but no such luck. Last year, I got to try the wines for the first time, just as the estate changed hands, with the legendary Jean-Marie Fourrier taking the reins from Bass Phillip’s founder, Phillip Jones. I sat down with the Burgundian to talk about the project, one that has been made far from easy by Australia’s stringent border controls in the face of Covid. Read the full feature on FINE+RARE Editorial.

Here’s to an ever more eclectic selection of stories in 2022.

Silence and scandal in Bordeaux

The tower of Ch. Latour

Although my past few posts have all been Bordeaux-centric, that is not the norm. For someone who spends much of their day job drafting offers for the grandest wines of Bordeaux, I’ve written relatively little about the region.

It’s the region that got me hooked on wine. I was interested in wine already, but a taste of 1989 Ch. Margaux made me realise how disarming, complex and enchanting it could be. A taste of 1989 Ch. Haut-Brion made me realise it could be life-changing.

Yet, while I’ve always loved the wines, I’m guilty of neglecting them – both in the glass and in the written word. I’ve found it all too easy to consider the region a little anonymous, lacking in the stories, personalities and evolution that makes me tick. Of course, that’s entirely unfair, and based merely on the fact that I haven’t had the chance to explore the region as much as I’d like. This year was the first time that I was immersed in en primeur fully – even if from afar. Since April, I’ve spoken to many of Bordeaux’s most talented and famous winemakers, and there have been stories aplenty.

Two articles have emerged and made their way into (digital) print in recent weeks. The first was a conversation with Jean Garandeau of Ch. Latour, delving into why the star estate seems to avoid the limelight (and talking about its undeniably world-class wines, even to me).

Most recently, I dove headfirst into the scandal of St Emilion’s classification system. I could have written a lot more (and that says a lot, given you’ll find 2,500 words or so here), but it was fascinating, and I can’t wait to follow the story as it unfolds – both with the 2022 classification, and the results of the ongoing court case.

Find both articles on frw.co.uk/editorial

A maiden vintage: Noëmie Durantou Reilhac

Noëmie Durantou Reilhac. Source: IMDB

I love this picture of Noëmie Durantou Reilhac: it captures the joy that I glimpsed in our conversation. I don’t get to talk enough women winemakers, let alone those that are in their 20s, and that’s a shame for the industry. The way in which she spoke about vines filled me with optimism, and excited to taste the wines she’d produced in 2020, her maiden vintage. They lived up to every expectation.

When Noëmie’s father, the legend Denis Durantou, passed away in May 2020, she stepped up to take over. The young winemaker (and actress, with her own theatre company) was now in charge of the family’s stable of illustrious properties, of which the jewel in the crown is Ch. l’Eglise-Clinet. But as the rain fell upon the vines, the threat of mildew building, there was little time to pause and consider the loss of the family’s patriarch. The vineyards weren’t waiting, so neither could they.

“When the harvest and vinification is over, it’s like waking up from a dream,” she told me. In 2020, I can only imagine what a blur the year must have been.

Read the full interview on frw.co.uk/editorial

Recent writings

With Bordeaux en primeur, life has been busy to say the least. Alongside my initial thoughts and growing season report, I’ve tasted as much as I could of the vintage and penned an overview of Bordeaux 2020, based on the wines and many conversations with the region’s vignerons. It’s a fascintating vintage to dig into, and one that I think has produced some excellent wines that fit neatly with my palate (a little more restrained, elegant and fresh than some other top-rated years).

In amongst it all, and just before his Vinous report on Bordeaux 2020 was due to be published, I sat down (via Zoom, of course) with Neal Martin. Despite my best efforts, I got no early titbits on his view on Bordeaux 2020; I did however get to dig into his back-story, how he approaches writing, why his passion for music matters, and the tricky business of access in the world of fine wine. You can read the full feature here.

Last but not least, this week the Guild of Food Writers named me the winner of their 2021 Drinks Writing Award. I can barely believe it given the very stiff competition in the category from the fabulous Fiona Beckett and Lily Waite (founder of Queer Beer): do check out their excellent work.

I’m hoping to get back to some restaurant reviewing and other feature-writing: more to follow soon…