: Henry Jeffreys
: Vines in a Cold Climate Longlisted for the 2023 André Simon Food and Drink Award
: Allen& Unwin
: 9781838956660
: 1
: CHF 8.80
:
: "Landwirtschaft, Gartenbau; Forstwirtschaft, Fischerei, Ernährung"
: English
: 304
: Wasserzeichen
: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet
: ePUB
WINNER, BEST DRINK BOOK AT THE FORTNUM& MASON FOOD AND DRINK AWARDS 2024 ***A New York Times pick for best wine book of 2023!***'A tour de force!' - Jancis Robinson'Henry Jeffreys, who used to work in the wine trade, is an amiable and entertaining guide to'the English wine revolution'' - Daily Mail'A fascinating and superbly told adventure' - Independent'A tremendously gossipy but adroitly helmed examination of where English wine istoday and how it got there' - Telegraph'An invaluable guide' - Evening Standard'Delightful details make the book sing' - Times Literary Supplement'A page-turner' - Financial Times'Mr. Jeffreys, an English drinks writer, has done an excellent job of telling the story of the quirky characters and visionaries behind the first wave of modern English wines in the 1980s and'90s' - New York Times The definitive story of the extraordinary and surprising success of English wine - and the people who transformed our reputation on the global stage from that of a joke to world-class in 30 years. From an amateur affair made by retirees to a multi-million-pound industry with quality to rival Champagne, the rise of English wine has been one of the more unexpected wine stories of the past 30 years. In this illuminating and accessible account, award-winning drinks writer Henry Jeffreys takes you behind the scenes of the English wine revolution. It's a story about changing climate and technology but most of all it's about men and women with vision, determination and more than a little bloody-mindedness. From secretive billionaires to the single mother farming a couple of hectares in Kent, these are the people making wine in a cold climate.

Henry Jeffreys studied English and Classical Literature at Leeds University. He worked in the wine trade and publishing before becoming a freelance writer and broadcaster. He was wine critic for The Lady, and his work has appeared in Spectator magazine, the Guardian, the Oldie and BBC Good Food magazine. He has been on BBC Radio 4, Radio 5 and Monocle Radio, and featured on BBC 2's Inside the Factory (2020). He was a judge for the BBC Radio 4's Food& Farming Awards and for the Fortnum& Mason food and drink awards 2018. He is the author of Fortnum& Mason award-winning Empire of Booze: British History through the Bottom of a Glass (2017), The Home Bar (2018) and The Cocktail Dictionary (2020), and in 2022 was awarded Fortnum& Mason drink writer of the year. He is currently features editor for the Master of Malt drinks blog and drink writer for The Critic Magazine. He lives in Faversham, Kent with his wife and two children.

INTRODUCTION


On a blustery, unseasonably cold May day in 2017, the cream of Britain’s drinks press descended on a field just outside Faversham in Kent for a milestone event in the history of English wine. Taittinger was planting vines in southern England – and we had been invited to take part.

The week before, late spring frosts had damaged vines across the country. Some growers had lost 80 per cent of their crop. Combine that with all the uncertainty about the previous year’s referendum result, in which Britain had voted by a narrow margin to leave the European Union, and you might say that Taittinger’s timing could have been better.

The French company had bought the land in 2015, after years of rumours that Champagne houses were looking to make wine in southern England. It was followed, in 2017, by Pommery, which would become the first Champagne house to actually launch an English wine, made in conjunction with Hattingley Valley in Hampshire. Both were following in the footsteps of a lone winemaker from Champagne, Didier Pierson, who had beaten all the big boys to it when he planted vines in Hampshire in 2005 and began making sparkling wines under the Meonhill label (since bought by Hambledon).

To make high-quality sparkling wine by theméthode champenoise, you need grapes with high acidity. They need to be ripe, but not too ripe. With the climate in Champagne getting warmer, southern England is arguably the next best place on earth to grow suitable grapes. It even has chalky soil identical to that of Champagne.

On the day of our visit, we piled out of the buses from Ashford station at a nondescript, muddy field in what felt like the middle of nowhere. We had been warned to dress casually and to be ‘prepared for the unpredictable British weather. The event is taking place in a field and we have very limited cover’. Many urban types had not heeded the advice, wearing smart shoes and even heels.

Shivering outside, we sipped tea to warm us up and then strode out somewhat gingerly into the field for the planting of the vines. The rain was horizontal, like you get on Scottish islands. Patrick McGrath a Master of Wine from Hatch Mansfield, Taittinger’s UK distributor and partner in the venture, stood on a box and tried to make himself heard above the wind. Then it was the turn of Pierre-Emmanuel Taittinger from the family that owns the Champagne house, dressed up as an English gent in that charming way certain Frenchmen in the wine trade still do.

He insisted that bonds between Britain and France, and more specifically Champagne, would endure despite Brexit. Taittinger’s Kent venture is named Domaine Evremond after Charles de Saint-Évremond, a French aristocratic exile in the court of Charles II who introduced the wines of Champagne to England, where they were served at parties – some say orgies – attended by the king. For this service, Charles made Évremond governor of Duck Island in St James’s Park, which came with a £300-a-year salary.

As the rain got heavier, the PR team cut the speeches short. We were handed ceremonial trowels, given vine cuttings and shown where to plant them. I sometimes wonder how mine is doing, hopefully thriving somewhere in the damp Kent soil.

Did I mention that it was really cold? Our job done, we hurried into the marquee. We couldn’t taste wines from Domaine Evremond – they won’t be released until 2024 at the earliest – so in a clever bit of publicity, Taittinger had invited other Kentish producers to show off their sparkling wines. There were wines from Chapel Down, England’s largest producer, and Gusbourne, one of the country’s most prestigious, as well as newer names like Squerryes (rhymes with cherries) alongside veterans like Biddenden. The quality was high, with none of the searing acidity that has sometimes characterised English wines in the past. Perhaps aware of the comparison, or as a bit of flattery, Taittinger did not offer its standard label, but instead brought out dozens of bottles of its £150 top-of-the-range Comtes de Champagne.

With everyone thoroughly refreshed, it was Taittinger’s turn to speak again. He clearly, gloriously, had had no media training and rambled charmingly on subjects ranging from his recollection of English women encountered in his misspent youth – there’s more than a touch of Évremond about Pierre-Emmanuel – to how Kent held some advantages over Cha