Three Choirs Vineyard, Newent, Gloucestershire (01531 890223, www.threechoirs.com)
I could be in California. But I'm not - I'm in Gloucestershire, six miles
south of Ledbury, staying on a vineyard. But the view, when I open the
curtains - the morning sun warming the frosty vines planted on 100 acres of
rolling hills, could be Carneros. Except I hear church bells, and a robin is
perched on the chair outside my little terrace.
In addition to the winery, Three Choirs has eight bedrooms, a smart restaurant
and a micro-brewery. I suspect the latter is the main reason why we've come.
The man isn't a huge fan of white wine - particularly English white wine.
But Three Choirs produces six different brews, which it sells to local pubs,
and from its shop on site.
In fact, the shop is where we started. I thought it was advisable to taste
through the range before deciding what we would drink for dinner. Rather
handily, it's open until 8.30pm. There are eight wines in all, from a
Bacchus to a Siegerrebe. For £3.50 you can try five; for £7.50 you get a
guided tour (Saturday at 2.30pm) and the tasting. But we're here on a Wine
Tasting Break - the tasting is included.
They get a fair number of visitors through their doors - the winery tours can
get crowded (up to 60 people). And if they're not here on the Wine Tasting
Break, then they're here to gaze at their vines.
Three Choirs offers an Adopt a Vine scheme for £39 a pop. More than 3,500 have
signed up and for that you get a plaque on the vine with your name on it, a
tour and a tasting, a couple of bottles of wine, and a 20 per cent discount
on further purchases.
Though I doubt I'd ever use the latter. I'm struggling to find much I like.
For starters, the tasting glasses annoyed me - think thimble-sized sherry
schooners. I can't get much aroma from these at all - except from the
Bacchus, which is typically in-your-face, and a decent example. And I quite
like the Siegerrebe. But nobody else is offering this kind of experience on
an English vineyard, and I was having fun.
The food is pretty good. The chef even gets to show off - a boudin stuffed
with celeriac remoulade, wrapped in Parma ham to resemble a sausage, tasted
good; as did a pressed ham hock and locally grown spring onion terrine with
home-made Piccalilli.
It was a mistake to order the steak. There was nothing wrong with it, but we
chose the newly released 2006 pinot noir to accompany it - Three Choirs'
flagship red. I still think that England can't do red wines. The fruit is
too mean, the finish too sour. Never mind. We were able to crash out in a
chic bedroom, newly refurbished by John Nash, the Ledbury-based interiors
maestro. Yes, all very California.
Chapel Down Winery, Kent (01580 763033, www.englishwinesgroup.com)
I ALREADY like these wines, so I know I'm going to have a good time. Plus it's
an easy day out from where I live in South London - keep going on the A21,
hang a left past Tunbridge Wells and you're there.
This is Kent at its best: rolling hills, fruit trees and hops, broken up by
oast houses and low-beamed cottages. And vines. This is English wine
heartland - and Chapel Down, near Tunbridge Wells, is the leader. It's the
largest producer in Britian, at 600,000 bottles, and the only pub-licly
quoted vineyard in the country.
“We're beginning to see the face of the South East changing - it won't be long
until all we see are vineyards,” declares Chapel Down's marketing man, Guy
Tresnan. “But we're not about train rides around vineyards here - we're
about world- class wines,” he says.
Chapel Down wines are good, and a number of sommeliers appear to agree with
me. They get regular listings in the country's top restaurants - even Gordon
Ramsay's restaurants stock them, as does The Dorchester.
So what are they doing right, I wonder, as I wander through the vines on a
specially routed path. Harvest is in full swing and the pickers don't seem
to mind us watching as they work. They are gathering Bacchus - a Riesling
hybrid that is doing well in our climate, and particularly well at Chapel
Down, which produces five of them.
They grow it here, on the 30ha estate, and also on sites in Essex, Kent and
Sussex, trucking the grapes back to the Tenterden winery to process. They
work with 93ha spread over three counties, owned by “partner growers”. Some
are farmers maximising their land; others are private individuals who fancy
being involved in the wine business.
Anyone can get involved here. Chapel Down offers a Vine Lease scheme, starting
at £140 for a one-year lease. You can pick your own grapes, have your own
label and quaff them over lunch with other lessees. A fun day out, I reckon.
Or you can just visit. A guided tour of the winery and vineyard costs £6.50
and lasts an hour (there are three a day). Or you can take yourself off, as
we did - ending up in a field full of llamas, rather surreally, on the
neighbouring estate. The signage dotted about the place gives you the
low-down on the various grape varieties and vineyard activity.
You should also consider timing your visit to end with lunch. The bistro's
wooden deck, which hangs over the vineyard, is a great spot, particularly on
a sunny day. It's open seven days a week for lunch and tea, and on Friday
and Saturday nights for dinner.
The food is tasty, if a little dated - and there's always a glass of Chapel
Down Bacchus to wash it all down. I like the Bacchus Reserve best, although
the sparkling 2002 Pinot Reserve is also good. Both got stashed in the boot
to take home.
Denbies Wine Estate, Surrey (01306 876616, www.denbiesvineyard.co.uk)
THE country's biggest wine estate last year produced 400,000 bottles of wine
from 300,000 vines spread over 107ha outside Dorking in Surrey. That's not
large by European standards, but it is a big deal for Britain. Denbies
introduced the Grape Picking Experience last year and this year 400 people
have signed up, with more booked in for next year.
I have seen a few wine estates in my time and Denbies is as slick as they
come. The visitor centre probably makes more money than the wine itself with
its “indoor people mover” (a miniature train), garden centre, conference
facilities, restaurants and private function space. Brace yourself for the
coach loads - they get 375,000 visitors a year here.
The IT consultants who had bussed in for the day looked like regular wine
drinkers. My fellow pickers muttered appreciatively at the 20-minute film
that gave us the lowdown on the estate. We headed off to our row of vines.
The vineyard manager, Sue Osgood, told us to pick up a bucket and some
clippers (it was up to us to bring gloves, wellies and warm clothing), and
then she split us into two groups of 12.
“Now, watch your fingers. What we want is bunches that look like this,” she
says, holding up a more fleshy looking cluster of Reichensteiner destined
for Denbies' bubbly. “We need three tonnes by noon.”
We can see Denbies' regular pickers working swiftly down the rows - not us,
we're all thumbs. Most are local, and some, such as Eric Callow, are
retired. In fact, he has just done his Certificate in Wine at 81. On a crisp
day the Mole Valley, with Box Hill in the distance, is looking just fine.
“So do you hand-pick all your grapes?” asks my mate, Pippa. “No, just the
grapes for our sparkling wine,” Osgood says.
And as if on cue, a huge picking machine rumbles into view. Denbies buys the
pickers from Germany second-hand - they cost £200,000 reconditioned. It's an
expensive business making wine, so I don't begrudge forking out £21.99 for
Denbies 2004 Greenfields Brut, a yeasty, biscuity bubbly that tastes better
than a lot of champagne.
Hell, we're only 88 miles from Champagne as the crow flies and we have chalky
soils galore (a champagne grape's best friend). Even the Champenois have
come sniffing for land here.
I'm not so sure about the rest of the line-up that we get to taste after a
hearty lunch of soup and a ploughman's, but my friend is happy enough with
the Bacchus blend, Juniper Hill (£7.99) and the spritzy, lychee-laced Surrey
Gold (£6.49).
We even get to poke around the winery. The winemaker Marcus Sharp is busy
receiving grapes and instructing his team, but he breaks off for ten minutes
to show us how the press works and lets us taste the must (the raw pressed
juice) - our Reichensteiner is in there somewhere.
Though best not to ask him or his assistants too many dumb questions. “I want
my staff to be focused on the job in hand.” Quite. I would hate to see the
rather large number of below- par bunches picked by our lot getting caught
up in there.
You missed a treat at Biddenden Vineyard, just down the road from Chapel Down, Biddenden's Ortega.
http://www.biddendenvineyards.com/
mark, Worthing, UK