Jonathan Ray

Mrs Ray has temporarily foresworn alcohol. Our recent weekend in northern Italy took its toll and it’ll be a while before she looks a bottle of Amaro in the eye again. It’s all my fault apparently and I stand accused as a pusher and a feeder, solely responsible for her liverish state. I tried to explain the concept of free will as I brought her yet more tea’n’Anadin but the homily was badly received and I narrowly missed a pair of flying slippers as I retreated. Hints of butter, lemon and toast are beautifully kept in check with a slightly salty/savoury finish It’s her loss. As a proud half-Aussie, my wife loves the wines from Down Under and there are few finer than those from McHenry Hohnen, the range of which I was delighted to taste for this offer, albeit on my own.

Around of applause, please, as we welcome Haynes Hanson & Clark to the Spectator Wine Club. Hurrah! Established almost 50 years ago with shops in Chelsea and the Cotswolds, HHC is a firm favourite of canny wine lovers and I’m delighted to offer their wines. Buying director Sióbhan Astbury sent me some absolute peaches to choose from and it was a thorny exercise narrowing them down, hindered (rather than helped) by Mrs Ray who, with a curt ‘I’m on the phone!’, nicked one of the bottles and buggered off upstairs with it. Welcome Haynes Hanson & Clark – a firm favourite of canny wine lovers The 2023 Domaine Gayda ‘Sphère’ Viognier (1) is a charmer from an eye-catching estate in the foothills of the Pyrenees.

After a week in Hungary, I’ve almost forgotten what French wines taste like. I’m just back from our inaugural Spectator tour of Budapest and Tokaj where, in the company of my colleague Richard Bratby and 20 or so extremely engaging and really quite thirsty readers, I drank little else but dry Furmint, sweet Tokaji and Bull’s Blood. Well, some of us also did what the locals did and downed a glass or so of pálinka just to be polite. Oh, and a few beers. And some martinis in Hotsy Totsy and some more in Boutiq (don’t blame me, it was Richard’s idea). The point is that I’ve been on an all-Hungarian diet and, sublimely tasty and satisfying though this was, by journey’s end all I craved was a fine white burgundy.

Robin Davis of Swig Wines, specialists in sourcing quirky wines from passionate, artisanal and often eccentric producers, sent me so many bottles to choose from that I got in a right stew. Mrs Ray despaired at my indecision and repaired upstairs with a bottle and a box set. I couldn’t whittle the selection down to six, so came up with the following ten and no mixed case. A classic blend of Cab Sauv, Merlot and Cab Franc which would easily pass for a wine twice the price The 2023 Christoph Bauer Gemischter Schatz (literal translation: ‘mixed treasure’) (1) from Jetzelsdorf, north of Vienna, is like nothing else I’ve come across in Austria, being a field blend of co-fermented Welsch-riesling, Sauvignon Blanc, Neuberger and Traminer.

New Zealand, ah, New Zealand! I don’t know anyone who has been there who hasn’t been completely bewitched by the country. I’m lucky enough to have gone there many times, though not for ages. I haven’t felt ready to return, being scarred by a night of bad judgment and poor behaviour in Wellington a few years back. Hosted by a group of winemakers, we’d started in Matterhorn, I think it was, moved on to Elixir, Hawthorn Lounge and – here it gets a bit blurry – Dirty Little Secret. Next thing I knew I was waking up in a hotel in Queenstown wondering how the heck I got there and in whose company.

Hurrah! It’s May and time for our annual offer of top-notch Beaujolais from family-owned Maison Jean Loron (est: 1711), courtesy of Mr Wheeler. All the wines are 100 per cent Gamay, of course, but they’re very different, each with their own subtle characteristics and quirks and Mrs Ray and I had quite an evening delving into the range. And, gosh, we came up smiling every time – beaming, even – and just that little bit squiffy. The 2022 Brouilly, Ch. de la Pierre (1) comes from a 12-hectare domaine with a 12th-century château (complete with whizz-bang, high-tech winery) at its heart, surrounded by fields of wild grass, grazing horses and ancient woodland. It’s all very bourgeons chéris du mois de mai.

I was snitched on last week. You know how it is – after a long, wine-soaked lunch in town, I tottered off full of bonhomie to catch the train back to Skid Row-on-Sea and, to ward off any incipient hangover, nipped into M&S for a couple of those little plastic bottles of rosé they have in the chiller. I found myself a table, spread myself out a bit, hummed a cheery tune and beamed at one and all just to be friendly. The rosé had gone by Gatwick and it was good to be alive. Well, it was until I got home and found Mrs R on the doorstep with the rolling pin, hissing that I’d been spotted drunk on the train and must go straight to my room with no supper. That was my balloon pricked.

We’ve some cracking South African wines on offer this week, courtesy of Private Cellar, including yet another bona fide Spectator scoop: the exclusive on the 2023 Hamilton Russell Vineyards Chardonnay and Pinot Noir. For one week only, The Spectator is the only place where these wines – made in tiny quantities and destined to sell out fast – can be bought. I mean, do we love you or what? And not only that, thanks to the generosity of Private Cellar’s marketing director, Laura Taylor, the other wines featured boast extremely tasty discounts and, to make the offer even more punter-friendly, all wines are available in six-bottle boxes (with free delivery on 12 bottles).

Klaxon alert! We’ve a bona fide Spectator scoop and if you love Chateau Musar as much as I think you do – and all Speccie readers love Ch. Musar – then please get your skates on! Our good friends at Mr Wheeler are giving us ten days before anyone else (including the Wine Society) in which to snap up the newly released 2018 Ch. Musar. Not only that, but we’ve also a pair of exquisite back vintages I would hate you to miss, along with the estate’s white and two simpler reds. The 2017 Ch. Musar White (1) takes a while to get used to, being unlike any other white wine I can think of, though – as I’ve said here before – there’s a passing similarity to fine white Rhône.

Italy’s victory over Scotland in last week’s Six Nations Rugby provoked much merriment in our house. Our Scottish chums watching with us were stunned into grumpy silence, and the grumpier they got, the funnier this seemed. It took many bottles to restore their good humour. Said bottles were all Italian, of course, courtesy of Honest Grapes, and here are our collective favourites. The multiple random chasers of single malt whisky, though, were neither big nor clever. The 2022 Giuliana Vicini Pecorino (1) from Abruzzo, halfway between Pescara and Ortona, is a crisp, lively white made from 100 per cent Pecorino.

It was Mrs Ray’s birthday the other day. Or rather it was what she now terms her birthday week – seven days during which flags fly, trumpets sound, corks pop and she can do no wrong. I find it all quite exhausting. It’s not just the running up and down with cups of tea and gins and tonic, nor the plumping up of the sofa in preparation for another of her box sets, nor the cooking, it’s the firm ‘We have to/we can’t: it’s my birthday week’ that begins to pall. Happily one of Mrs R’s demands is no chore: fine champagne, of which we drank gallons during the 168-hour celebrations.

Oh dear, I’m about to be ‘Yapped’. Jason and Tom, those evil geniuses behind Yapp Bros – in fact they’re step-bros – are taking me on their next buying trip. I love them dearly, but rarely return from such expeditions unscathed, and yet again fear for my well-being. Unrivalled as they are in rootling out the rarest, tastiest vinous treasures of France, Jas and Tom are also masters of mischief and can sniff out trouble in the most unpromising places. ‘Just the one glass and it’s off to bed,’ they’ll chorus, all innocence. Six hours later, I’ll have no idea where I am nor where I’ve been but will have a nagging fear it’ll require a fib or so to Mrs Ray.

Water wagon? What water wagon? With Dry January now just a ghastly memory, let’s start cracking open the vino. And, crikey, we’ve a corking offer with FromVineyardsDirect to tempt you. If you don’t salivate immediately, well, I don’t think you like wine at all. FVD need to clear the decks to take in newer vintages and have generously offered Spectator readers first dibs on more than 30 different clarets, all from the excellent 2016, 2017, 2018 vintages, all at least 10 per cent below market price and all worthy of a place in your cellar or glass. 2016 was a spectacular year with fabulous wines produced across the board, a genuine 10/10 vintage. 2017 was a frost-ridden, low-yielding year, but with some very tasty wines produced, albeit not quite as fine as in 2016.

Cooee, we’re back! Come on, wine lovers, it’s time to get cracking! Whether you’re clinging desperately to the water wagon like me or enjoying a liquor-fuelled January like Mrs Ray (she didn’t feel very well this morning, bless her), we have work to do refilling those bare wine racks that were plundered during the festivities. I was felled by dread Covid over Christmas but tried to lend a wan, sickly hand to the assembled lushes as they rampaged through an impressive number of bottles and magnums and goodness knows how many spirits, but I only held them back.

So, this is it, the final offer of the year. Mrs Ray says I can drink whatever I need in whatever quantity just as long as I stop banging on about how miserable a month December is. Thanks to these beauties from Swig Wines, I’ve been silence personified, if a little squiffy, and should just about make it through. I trust they’ll help you too. The 2022 Sauvignon À Peu Près (1) with its jaunty label and immaculate winemaking looks and tastes far better than a lowly Val de Loire IGP should. Produced by David and Shirley Maudry in the heart of the Loire Valley from 100 per cent Sauvignon Blanc, it would be a far grander Pouilly Fumé if only its vineyards were mere yards in one direction or another.

My annual bout of CADDAD (Christmas Affected Doom, Depression and Despondency) struck early this year. It’s a terrible affliction about which I’ve written many times before and it knocked me flat in late September, just as the first mince pies and Christmas puddings appeared in the supermarkets. Stoicism being my middle name, I dug deep and vowed to carry on, only to be felled again outside Fortnum & Mason at the end of October, assailed by their ridiculously premature festive decorations and jaunty carols played on a loudspeaker outside their store. In October! For heaven’s sake.