Beer. I just love it. Nothing better than a cool, creamy frothing pint of ale to relax with. In the winter it has a warming effect – dark, fruity sweet and bitter, in Summer it cools with a blonde crisp, hoppiness. Very versatile. I probably drink too much of it. Nope I know I used to drink too much of it – increasing problems with gout, a widening middle girth and even a brush with pancreatitis – woke me up somewhat. I now don’t drink at all during the week, exercise more, have lost the extra pounds and take my medication and drink plenty of water to keep the gout at bay. Still doesn’t stop at me weekends though enjoying more beer than I probably should. I could blame my dad as he likes a pint, but actually it would be more of a ‘thankyou’ than blame.
Whilst beer will always be my first love I have over the years turned my attention somewhat to the joys of a decent glass of wine. Started a few years back with a friend of the Mrs, inviting us to join a wine club – Laithwaites. I’ve bought numerous bottles now over the years, even been to a few wine tastings and visited a couple of English vineyards. I am not an expert by any means but I have reached that stage where I know what my preference is and what I prefer to stock my “cellar” with. One thing I’ve never quite understood though is the hype over champagne. Sure I’ve tasted a couple of well rounded champagnes but most of them just appear to be expensive, over fizzed, dry nothingness. The worst examples just give me heartburn.
It was a little strange therefore that on our journey home we decided to have an overnight stay around Reims, the Champagne capital. In our heads we had visions of a romantic little hotel or a magnificent chateau to finish off the last night of the holiday. In many instances dreams don’t quite work out, this was one of them. It was getting late and we’d been driving all day, plus the fact the bonnie was low on fuel. We passed through many villages, drove round in circles, asked the locals, checked the Sat Nav etc but kept get getting pointed back to the only hotel within a 20 mile radius – a modern motel on the main busy road. Eventually we realised it was our only option and booked in, dreams somewhat dashed. Don’t get me wrong it was clean and comfortable but not quite what we had envisaged for our last night.
The receptionist pointed us in the direction of the nearest restaurant about a couple of hundred yards down the road. It was nothing special from the outside, but that does not matter much to the French as they take their food seriously and it’s rare to be served a poor meal. It was reasonably busy, a few locals and a smattering of guests from the motel. To accompany our meal we decided to have a bottle of champagne, “when in Rome……”. We were handed a menu of champagne that listed about dozen or so producers from the surrounding villages, all within 10km. We asked the waitress for her thoughts, she pointed to one of the local village producers just a couple of kilometres away. We went with her recommendation.
Now I am not going to say it was the best bottle of champagne ever because it wasn’t. I’d simply be lying. It was though a lovely quaffable example of champagne, a million miles away from the mass producers that line the shelves of British supermarkets. For just 28 euros, in a restaurant, it also represented good value for money. Perhaps what this ‘little’ champagne demonstrated more though was the fact that most of the champagne we see in Britain is a triumph of marketing and snobbery over taste. The ad men have certainly done their job well when it comes to champagne, Moet, Bollinger etc you can keep it.
In the future however I may buy the odd bottle of champagne from smaller producers in the hope of finding one that represents similar taste and value for money. Who knows maybe I’ll even find one that doesn’t give me heartburn.
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