Sales of English wine are booming, soaring by nearly 70 per cent over the least two years, at least according to the industry body. There are now shelves devoted to English wine in just about every large supermarket.
I even tried a red wine by a local producer, who had better remain nameless. It tasted like a cross between cough medicine and Vimto
Since I live in West Sussex, the heart of one of the English wine-growing regions, I feel I ought to like it. No fewer than three of the major wine-producers – Nyetimber, Nutbourne and Kinsbrook – are nearby. The daily dog-walk takes me through their huge vineyards and I try to take some interest in the grapes and how they’re faring (they currently look like tiny green berries). Yet English wine still leaves me as cold as a glass of Hampshire chardonnay and that’s thanks to the mad prices charged for the stuff.
Of course English wines have been a great success. Only this week, a leading Cotswold vineyard, Woodchester Valley near Stroud, won gold at the ‘Global Pinot Gris/Pinot Grigio Masters’, beating its Italian rivals for the award. In a blind tasting, the judges praised its 2022 pinot gris for its ‘balance, complexity and intensity’. Pioneering wine-makers like Woodchester deserve credit for blazing such a viticultural trail. Our increasingly-hot summers are undoubtedly helping too.
It’s not that I haven’t tried English wine. I have, usually whenever Chapel Down or Nyetimber prices are reduced in the nearest Waitrose. One time, I even tried a red wine by a local producer, who had better remain nameless. It tasted like a cross between cough medicine and Vimto. Never again.
And there’s no doubt that English white wines are much more pleasant than that ill-fated ‘red’. However, they all seem to be priced at £20-plus. For that kind of money you’re into champagne territory. The cheapest English sparkling white I could find last week was a Nyetimber Sparkling Classic Cuvee at ‘only’ £16.99, reduced from £22 at Waitrose. For that price, you could get your hands on a serious bottle of crémant, claret or Provence rosé. Pay another £3 and you could even have Waitrose’s tried-and-trusted house champagne.
It’s the same story at Sainsbury’s. The most affordable bottle of sparkling English was £18 (Ellercombe English Sparkling), while Sainsbury’s Brut Non-Vintage Champagne was only a little more expensive at £19.50. Price matters – to me, anyway – and the cost of English wine is undoubtedly prohibitive, especially as it only has to be ferried a few miles down the road from the vineyards to the local shops.
The Sussex vineyards I live amongst seem to hold huge local kudos, despite the fact they’ve only been around for a decade or so. This is in stark contrast to their French counterparts, which have often spent centuries establishing a reputation. Kinsbrook, a mile or two away, even has its own brown tourist sign, directing hapless tourists and their wallets to its ‘eatery and farm shop’. I made the mistake of taking my elderly mother there once. We ended up sitting in a vast poly-tunnel, sipping cappuccino (it was only 11 a.m.), with dying pot-plants all around us for company. Just as well we were too early for a drink, as the cheapest Kinsbrook wine on offer, Kin 21, was £8.50 for a 125ml glass.
Admittedly, some of the local vineyards are stunning. Nutbourne Vineyard, for example, is based around a disused windmill, which doubles up as a kind of bar and tasting venue. There are lovely views of the South Downs in the distance. It’s undoubtedly a great place for a summer tipple – until you get the bill.
Each summer, hundreds of volunteers are happy to help harvest the grapes. Such is the allure of English wine. And like the barons of old, the local producers swank around the Sussex lanes in their liveried vans as if they own the place. Which, judging by the endless rows of vines surrounded by ‘Keep to the path’ signs, they probably do.
There’s no escape. On a day trip to London recently, I was surprised to spot an advertisement in the Evening Standard for a Nyetimber roof terrace bar. I had no intention of going there, but the advertisement seemed to perfectly sum up the English wine craze: pictures of happy hipsters sipping fizz with absolutely no mention of the cost. Nyetimber now has its own 1968 Routemaster bus, currently doing the rounds of the most prestigious summer events, including Henley, Glyndebourne and the Cowdray Gold Cup polo.
Honestly, give me Moët every day. Why buy a Mondeo when you could have a Mercedes for nearly the same price? I’ll take English wines much more seriously when they come up with a decent red. Until that day, proud patriot though I am, I’ll continue to give them a miss.
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