Had a wonderful time at the London International Wine Fair yesterday. It's a massive exhibition at the Excell Centre in Docklands, where almost every type of wine from all over the world is on display. This includes wines from countries not normally associated with winemaking such as Thailand and India as well as exotics such as wine made from pomegranates, which, unfortunately, I didn't quite get around to sampling. Two things struck me about the fair: firstly, despite the vast amounts of wine being tasted, this is a professional business and, even by the end of a long day, there were only a handful of people who looked as though they might have forgotten to spit often enough. Secondly, more seriously, is the absolute dominance of the big companies and big brands who account for most of the wines we drink in this country. Small producers of interesting wines struggle to compete and make themselves known. I chatted for a while with Monique Germain, representing a small co-operative in the Perpignan area of Languadoc-Roussillon, and looking for a UK distributor for its premier wine, Chateau Montner. She had a small counter as part of a bigger stand representing all the wines of the region. A typically full-bodied, earthy blend of Syrah Grenache and Carignan grapes and utterly redolent of the sun-soaked terrior of this Mediterranean fringe, of quiet little villages of red tiled houses and endless rolling vineyards that supply the local co-operatives. So many lovely wines are made there, the largest by volume wine growing region in the world and yet so few make it here, where we resort to the easy familiarity of Aussie brands and single grape labels that dominate the supermarket shelves. I really hope she finds someone willing to buy - but it's significant that the biggest crowds were elsewhere.
On a slightly different tack, I stumbled (well, there had been a few samples taken) into a remarkable tasting of fine sherries matched with equally fine chocolates, hosted by Peter McCombie MW on the Pedro Ximenez stand. Highlights were a Bodegas Alvear 2005, a relatively light sherry matched with white chocolate flavoured with cardamon and a Bodegas Navisa, a much darker, more full bodied sherry, matched with an Amedei Porcelana, the first chocolate in the world produced only with cocoa beans of a single genetic variety, called "Porcelana". Simply stunning flavour combinations all round, both sherry and chocolate enhancing each other stupendously on the palate. Matching wines with chocolate, is a whole new area for wine buffs, since they were previously considered almost incompatible. I think I've found the climax for my next dinner party...
Later, thanks to Karis Hunt of Ehrmanns, I experienced some even more interesting taste sensations at a fascinating vertical tasting of Tahbilk Marsanne wines dating back to 1979. Tahbilk is a family owned winery in the Oragambi lakes north of Melbourne which has the oldest Marsanne vines in the world, first planted in 1860. Marsanne is a rare grape, originating in France and normally found mainly in Rhone white wines. At Tahbilk, it seems to have reached its absolute zenith: the wine is made simply, with no oak, allowing the flavours to come to the fore. Now, its generally accepted that, apart from the very finest French wines, most dry whites - certainly those popularly consumed by most people like chardonnays and sauvignon blancs - should be drunk within a year or two of being made. Not so the Tahbilk Marsanne. As we tasted the wines going backwards from 2007 - dry, aromatic, medium bodied - they became progressively interesting: darker in colour, highly aromatic on the nose and complex on the palate. Amamzing aromas of honey and toastiness and flavours of tropical and stone fruits increased as we went back through the 2000's and into the 1990s. A bizarre but not unpleasant kerosene or petrol aroma were present in some of them, although as as the winemaker and owner of Tahbilk, Alister Purbrick said, it would be nice to find another description. Curiously, while the older wines had the aroma and appearance of lucious, sweet desert wines, they remained dry and elegant on the palate and easily drinkable, although you would want to relish every drop. Due to climatic variations, some years were obviously better than others, but I'd drink the 2004 and 1993 anytime, if you could still buy them. The 1979, a wine almost 30 years old, was perhaps, as Alister admitted, past its best, but the 1982 was still going strong. Anyone interested in Tahbilk Marsanne can get the excellent 2005 at branches of Threshers (for around £9.50) or the 2006 via the Wine Society for £7.50 a bottle (although you have pay the one-off £40 joining fee, its worth it) or at these independents: www.cambridgewine.com, www.stantonwineco.co.uk and www.gordonandmacphail.com.