Wine Club

Order today. Our fabled Spectator Winemaker Lunches are heavily oversubscribed and little wonder. We have the finest producers and merchants clamouring to visit and we’ve never yet managed to knock back less than a bottle a head. Our readers take their studies seriously. One of the most popular of recent lunches was hosted by Sebastian Rezek, founder of RAKQ, an importer/distributor focused on giving the premium wines of South Africa the recognition in the UK they deserve. The bottles were indeed so fine that they just had to be offered to the wider Speccie readership (along with a very tasty introductory discount of 15 per cent).

Order today. Hang on, stop pushing at the back! Our annual ‘defrocked’ claret offer from FromVineyardsDirect might well be one of our most popular, but please quit jostling and get back in line. There’s plenty for everyone, I promise. As you know, these wines come from some of the finest châteaux in all Bordeaux – the very finest – made from younger vines and/or excess fruit with the same care and attention that goes into the grands vins. OK, so they may not boast quite the same complexity as the grands vins, but they are dusted with the same Bordelais stardust and give canny wine lovers the chance to nab a bargain or so of impeccable pedigree.

Order today. Well we had a cracking day out, thanks, and while I admit to a cranial fogginess, I’m feeling pretty chipper overall and can declare our third annual Spectator Clays, Claret and Cognac Cruise (SCC&CC) a thundering success. Forty readers joined us as we pootled along the Thames in the 100-year-old Thames Sailing Barge Will. We shot clays from the boat with pump action shotguns and blunderbusses, were entertained by business editor (and poet) Martin Vander Weyer, and relished that special camaraderie that exists between Speccie readers. We ate well, drank even better and happily screwed up London’s rush-hour traffic as Tower Bridge opened specially for us. In short, we had a hoot.

Order today. We live in sad, uncertain times and without for a minute suggesting that we should take solace in alcohol, I’ve, erm, taken solace in alcohol. I simply couldn’t help it thanks to the tastiest of bottles from Honest Grapes. I drained each and every one as I narrowed them down to a super September septet, crowned by a fabulous English fizz, ideal for marking the passing of our Queen and the succession of our King. Vivat rex! The 2020 Nadine Ferrand Mâcon Blanc (1) is an exemplary white Burgundy produced by Nadine Ferrand and her daughter Marine at their 11-hectare Pouilly Fuissé domaine.

Order today. So, with Mrs Ray packed off to the airport for her sun-soaked sojourn in Italy, training for The Spectator’s Clays, Claret and Cognac Cruise begins in earnest. The clays could still do with work but I’m close to nailing the liquid element of the jaunt. I’ve been helped immensely by Armit Wines and the delectable dozen bottles they sent me. Thanks to regular timed sampling, I’m close to match fitness and I’m delighted with this selection (four Italian, one French) I’ve made on your behalf. The 2021 Bacioilcielo Fiano (1) might be completely unpronounceable – the sort of wine you point to on a wine list rather than ask for – but it’s so drinkable.

Order today. There are some typically quirky gems from Swig on offer this week and it’s great to have Robin Davis and the gang back in these pages. Their offer in January was a rip-roarer and, as before, there is plenty here to satisfy even the most demanding of thirsts. The 2020 Bourgogne Chardonnay Les Truffières, Domaine de Mauperthuis (1) is a Chablis in all but name and price, produced in Auxerre on south-facing Kimmeridgian soils that could easily pass for those of Montée de Tonnerre. Matured for 12 months in stainless steel, it’s crisp, clean and pure, taking its time to unfold gently in the glass and reveal its lightly honeyed floral notes. £14.50 down from £17.50.

Order today. Klaxon alert! Would all claret lovers please form an orderly queue? Esme Johnstone and the FromVineyardsDirect gang are clearing their cobwebbed cellars to make room for newer vintages and are offering us a brilliant baker’s dozen of Bordeaux bin-ends at a special, Spectator-only knockdown price. Hurrah! The wines from 2014 and 2015 (cracking vintages) are in that glorious mid-maturity stage, great to knock back now yet still worthy of salting away. There are limited stocks, though, and once they’re gone, they’re gone. The 2014 Ch. Méaume ‘Réserve du Château’ (1) is from a much-loved Bordeaux Supérieur estate between St Emilion and Pomerol.

Order today. Poor Mrs Ray finally cracked. Ever the stoic, she paid no heed to the life-challenging heatwaves and associated power cuts. She disregarded the Covid that raged through her loved ones and took hours-long delays in and out of Gatwick with her usual eudaimonic tranquillity of mind. The baggage chaos at Heathrow, the melting runway at Luton, the rail/barrister/postal strikes and prospect of our next PM being elected by less than a quarter of 1 per cent of the country; well, they barely registered. No, what finally did for my dear wife was seeing her favourite Mâcon-Lugny rise in price from £14 to almost £20. Her evening tipple priced out of reach was the final straw. She was quite undone.

Order today and use the discount code SPECJULY at the checkout. So, I finally got the plague. No, not monkeypox, the other one – Covid. I blame that Tuscan wedding. Not the hot’n’sweaty event itself, nor the jam-packed flights there and back; no, I blame the three subsequent days on the wagon, strictly enforced by Mrs Ray to prove that we’re not complete and utter lushes and can, on occasion, do without. Well, as any fule kno, Muscadet keeps the doctor away and water won’t. Thus it is that I’m still testing positive after 14 days. Sigh. But I’m back on the vino now and feel much better for it, thank you, the associated vitamins and antioxidants putting a distinct spring in my step.

Order today. We’re just back from a quick flit to Italy and a wild and wonderful wedding. It was all huge fun, although as I look back with throbbing, bloodshot eyes, I see, of course, that we could have done things differently, not to say better, such as by pacing ourselves more sensibly and staying off the grappa. It was arriving late that threw us (thanks easyJet) and the resultant determination to hit the ground running and prove our worth. The inevitable upshot is a distinct liverishness today. At least I’m not as frail as Mrs Ray, who sat pale, monosyllabic and remorseful next to me on the flight home.

Order today. The first red wine I ever drank was a scrumptiously succulent Beaujolais, and I’ve had a fondness for the region and its wines ever since. At 52, my father was getting on a bit when I was born and he was desperate to educate me in the delights of the grape as quickly as possible. I was weaned on Cyprus ‘sherry’ and was no more than ten when I enjoyed my first glass of enticingly sweet and fizzy Asti Spumante. Light, refreshing, low-alcohol German Riesling followed, and by the time I was off to senior school, I had graduated – at my father’s behest – to soft, juicy, jammy Beaujolais. Once I was 16 I’d mastered the Tequila Sunrise and the Harvey Wallbanger, too, but that’s another – rather messy – story.

Order today. We got away with it! I wasn’t actually there, of course (and if I was, I didn’t realise) but I can report that our inaugural Spectator Wine Club BYOB/Wine Time Friday lunch passed off without a hitch. There was no excessive boozing, no fighting, no vomiting, no karaoke and definitely no poor treatment of security and cleaning staff. There was just plenty of fun. (So much so that we’ve another lined up for Friday 9 September, if you’re interested.) Of course, the past masters at vinous fun are those naughty Yapp Bros, Jason and Tom (step-bros to be exact). They rootle out wonderful, well-priced wines that others overlook and some of my favourite bottles have been enjoyed in their company.

Order today. I’ve been banished upstairs. Mrs Ray has turned our ground floor into an art gallery in which to show her and her friends’ paintings, prints and pottery during Brighton’s annual Artists Open Houses, and I’ve been told not to come down and talk to visitors ‘or otherwise spoil things’. What can she mean? So it is that I sit in my lonely eyrie with just my thoughts and my bottles as company. I foolishly left the spittoon downstairs so the delectable selection supplied by Corney & Barrow for this offer left me merrier than usual and more indecisive too. Indeed, so tricky was it to whittle the wines down that we’ve ended up with nine rather than six, so I’d better get cracking.

Order today. I had my regular May meeting with the accounts department (Mrs Ray) the other night and it did not go well. The general gist was that I’m a profligate fool and that I need to drink less, not to mention less expensively. And no, she did not appreciate me quoting the late, great Errol Flynn’s line: ‘My problem lies in reconciling my gross habits with my net income.’ She looked at me long and hard and I feared a lengthy dissection of my failings, but she simply muttered something about me being no Errol Flynn before leaving me with my thoughts and the dregs of a rather tasty claret (see below). The upshot is that this week I’m focusing on wines that give particularly good value. Each wine below is a corker and, in my view, massively undervalued.

Order today. As you know, when it comes to champagne, Pol Roger is pretty much The Spectator’s house pour. Indeed, a dog-eared sign on the door of the office fridge demands that staff always ensure there are two bottles chilling within it for emergency celebrations and commiserations or simply for whenever the moment strikes. It’s a rare occasion at 22 Old Queen Street when a bottle of Pol isn’t broached, then, and the fabled Spectator summer party is fuelled by little else. But one can’t live on Grande Marque Champagne alone and much as we adore PR, there are other effervescent treats out there that should not be ignored.

Order today. I don’t know how well you know Amsterdam, but there’s a frightfully swanky hotel there called The Dylan in which I was lucky enough to blag myself and Mrs Ray a jolly weekend a year or so ago. There are many fine things about The Dylan but that which tickles me the most is their tradition of High Wine, the hotel’s delightfully decadent version of High Tea, served mid to late afternoon and comprising four different amuses-bouches elegantly laid out alongside four cleverly matched glasses of wine. I’ve never been one for non-alcoholic hot drinks at elevenses, much preferring alcoholic cold ones at what Mrs R and I term sevenses, so The Dylan’s tradition chimes perfectly with ours.

Email your order today. It’s flipping well snowing as I write, but my Glyndebourne tickets have come and my MCC pass has just plopped on to the mat so it must surely be spring. And where a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love, so this old soak’s fancy lightly turns to just how many bottles I need to get me through Easter. Growing up in Kent I lived near Romney Marsh, a special place that I still love for its windswept acres, lonely churches and tales of smugglers, revenue men and Dr Syn, the mysterious vicar of Dymchurch, who was not quite who he seemed.

Order now. A reader upbraided me gently the other day saying he felt I was overly effusive about the wines I feature in these pages. He hinted that I must be in the pay of the merchants in order to endorse quite so heartily whatever six random wines they care to offload on me. Well, I promise I’m not in anyone’s pocket. Just to be clear, the offers work like this: I chat to whichever merchant we’re featuring and between us we try to come up with a pertinent/interesting theme, region, country or producer. The merchant sends me – or we taste together – anything up to a couple of dozen wines that we think might work, out of which I choose my favourite six. These we then offer to you at as keen a price as I can bully the merchant into.

Order today. My father loved nothing more than a smutty limerick. Indeed, he delighted in penning lewd lines whenever he was encouraged to do so. This being a family magazine, I won’t sully your breakfast with his verse on Verdicchio – tame though it is – but can happily send under plain brown-paper wrapper or via email if such things appeal. This is a cracking example of how tempting a wine proper Gavi di Gavi should be It’s just that said lickerish limerick was brought to mind on tasting the first wine of this very genial selection – three Italian, three French – from our old mates at Honest Grapes.

Anthony and Olive Hamilton Russell love The Spectator and we love them. They have hosted more Spectator Winemaker Lunches than any other producer (they’ll be in our boardroom again next week) and it was only the afterglow of the splendidly bibulous Spectator/Hamilton Russell dinner at Tate Britain the night before lockdown that kept me going during the dark days that followed. Anthony is a long-time subscriber to our organ and, through the kind offices of Laura Taylor – marketing director of Private Cellar – who has known and admired AHR and his remarkable wines for 25 years, he has paid us the enormous compliment of offering the latest vintages to us and us alone.