Sommelier: At Origin's annual wine fair

Oct 14 2008 by Mathew Sloane, Liverpool Daily Post

Matthew Sloane

IT’S A hard life – scouring the world, seeking out new wines, new civilisations, boldly going where no Sloane has gone before. Occasionally, this arduous and thankless task is made easier by thoughtful types who bully a load of wine merchants to gather under one, nearby roof and make them give us gallons of wine to taste.

It was with great enthusiasm and boundless admiration for the architects of such a devilish enterprise that I embarked on the 100-yard trip from Sloane Mansions to The Hope Street Hotel for Origin’s annual wine fair. Greeted by several rogues from the world of catering, a cluster of wine-peddling highwaymen and the perfectly decent folk from Origin, I steeled myself for a whistle-stop tour of about 200 wines, 20- odd whiskies, a dozen vodkas and a sneaky batch of tequila.

Professionalism dictates that one kicks off these mammoth boozefests by sampling a few delicate white wines and writing some nonsense in a notebook that will be misplaced within the hour and found a hundred years hence by a Blue Peter badge winner. In an expert manner which impressed all concerned, I battered my way through some stunning whites from the Hugel family in Alsace – gorgeous Pinot Gris, decadent Gewurztraminer and possibly the best Riesling known to humanity. After a quick dart through Burgundy and some excellent Chablis, I powered straight into the reds – hammertime.

There was a strangely compelling Lacrima from Italy, it tasted a bit like medicine at first, then blossomed into something I could only describe as Martian Ribena – try it, you’ll understand.

Soldiering on like a true hero, I managed to kick on through California, sticking my considerable beak into some Stag’s Leap Artemis Cabernet Sauvignon, a real Rocky Marciano of a wine, relentless, impressive and terrifying to chickens. If you like red wine that you can still taste after two days of strong black coffee, this is the swag for you. At around thirty quid a pop it isn’t the cheapest bottle in the world, but well worth a go.

After nearly being knocked onto my backside by that big, dirty American I sidled over to northern Spain and sampled a few cheeky tykes that would hopefully lighten the mood.

Somontano make their wines in the shadows of the Pyrenees and, while sampling the absolutely stunning rosés and sublime reds, I could easily picture myself half dozing under a Spanish tree, admiring the vista and reminding my recently kidnapped senorita not to overfill the basket on the old Lambretta with anything other than more plonk.

Being a rather contrary sort, I usually finish off these gargantuan meanderings with a glass or two of Champagne. I find it to be the only remedy for a battle-worn palate and the perfect pick-me-up before the ubiquitous post-traumatic Guinness and curry escapades. Help was at hand in the name of Cattier Brut NV, a truly life- saving concoction, bursting with energy and carrying a suave belt of lemon biscuits on the finish, a fountain of hope in a world of madness.

I finally tottered off into the chilly night, to arrange curry and pints with some fine gentlemen on Renshaw Street with fond memories of a very well organised wine beano. If you fancy popping along next year, or would like to sample some of this year’s wines, give Origin a ring on 0781 6162687 and ask for Little Duggy Lowe – he’ll sort you right out.