Hibiscus

Claude Bosi, the ambitious and exuberant chef-patron of two Michelin-starred restaurant Hibiscus in Mayfair, has a soft spot for ornamental chickens. So much so, he has a collection of the creatures lining the staircase at the restaurant, whose beady eyes watch you as you venture down to the loo.

Having upped sticks from its original home in Ludlow in 2007, husband and now ex-wife team Claude and Claire run a slick ship at Hibiscus. The restaurant is so understated, I walked straight past it. A polished desk on entry coupled with a partition screen give the impression you’re about to check in to a BA Club lounge. Inside, the interiors have been over-generously garnished with wood. Tones are hushed, lighting bright and flowers orange. On arrival, the restaurant is empty save for one or two tables, to give head chef Marcus McGuinness time to execute Bosi’s intricate dishes while he works his magic at new London pop-up The Cube atop the Royal Festival Hall.

Proceedings are kicked off in style when a pair of goody bowls arrive, one containing pudgy cheese gougères and the other ping pong ball-shaped yuzu and miso croquettes, both of which prove so addictive I’m suspicious they might contain crack cocaine. The croquettes explode with aromatic citrus liquid on biting, while the gougères ooze warm, creamy cheddar down my thankful throat. Chomping enthusiastically into a second, my skirt is christened with liquid cheese. Moments later, a concerned waiter arrives and silently offers me a starched white napkin from between two forks before swiftly departing so as not to draw attention to the incident.

Mackerel tartare with button mushroom cream

Obsessed with seasonality, Hibiscus doesn’t limit itself to the confines of a menu, but rather offers a page of seasonal ingredients, asking diners to choose the number of dishes they’d like (three, six or eight), and which ingredients they would like to see featured. I opt for eight courses and ask to be surprised. In a sweet and fitting tribute to the restaurant’s namesake, the feast begins with a vivifying hibiscus flower and pineapple soda amuse bouche, which I’m told to down like a shot.

Perhaps peaking prematurely, the first course is the apogee of the meal. Served in a small black bowl, a layer of foie gras-coloured button mushroom cream is prettified with edible flowers amid shards of shaved almond sticking out of the top like shark teeth. Beneath the teeth lies a smoky, meaty, mackerel tartare. When eaten together, the result is a rich, creamy and perfumed mouthful given texture by the almond shards in an exquisite example of the culinary pyrotechnics Bosi prides himself on.

Kaffir lime and spring onion ravioli

The next course is equally intriguing: a single, pleated ravioli stuffed with spring onion and Kaffir lime served with a buttery, broad bean and mint purée. The audacious use of lime highlights Bosi’s fearless approach. Out to surprise and delight, he takes flavour pairings to the edge of what is acceptable, assaulting and seducing the palate in one bite. Diners of a meek disposition may not warm to his gung-ho style, but, as each course reveals itself, I revel in the life-affirming flavour skirmish.

A pearl white hunk of roast Cornish John Dory was disappointingly mild on its own, but came to life when paired with the accompanying girolles drizzled in Lancashire mead and a salty sliver of Morteau sausage, the mead adding unctuous sweetness, the girolles earthiness and the sausage a savoury, meaty kick. Next up is a solitary, oak-smoked lamb sweetbread served with fresh goat’s cheese masquerading as a boiled egg, the yolk a pool of grass-green sorrel oil. Rich, juicy and oily, it tasted like a gourmet chicken nugget.

Roast squab pigeon with pistachios and cherries

Mention must be made of the wines. Chosen by natural wine pioneer Isabelle Legeron MW and enthusiastically poured by 22-year-old head sommelier Bastien Ferreri, the majority of the bins on the weighty list are organic and biodynamic, so what ends up in the glass is a bit of a lottery. While the opening wine, a 2009 Marsanne/Rousanne/Chardonnay/Viognier mash up from the Languedoc is cloudy in colour and spiteful in character, a 2007 Vermentino/Chenin Blanc blend from the Languedoc chosen to pair with the ravioli is bright, aromatic and elegantly spiced.

The only wine list in London to carry a page dedicated to orange wines, my wine find of the night was the curious and delicious Savasol 2007 from Loire renegade Julien Courtois. Made from the little-known Menu Pineau grape, Courtois deliberately oxidizes the wine to imbue it with wonderful, Sherry-like aromas of hazelnuts, toffee and sea air. Excited to be presented with a gleaming chunk of lobster, it turns out to be the least remarkable dish of the night. Much more impressive is an almost indecently pink slice of roast squab pigeon served with pistachio gravel. Sweetened by the accompanying cherries, the meat is achingly tender and exoticised by hints of spice. Finishing the dish, a crispy samosa contains creamy foie gras and an array of the bird’s innards.

White asparagus and white chocolate cream

The exhilarating flavour journey ends on a high note with a mystery dessert, the ingredients of which I’m asked to identify. Fashioned into a squidgy macaroon, I correctly guess the key components: white asparagus and white chocolate cream, and also manage to pinpoint the black olive splodges and coconut sorbet, but fail to decipher the elusive whey gel. The rich, savoury concoction seems straight out of the Great British Menu – a dish Matthew Fort would rave about and Oliver Peyton would peer down his glasses disapprovingly at. It was weird, but it worked. That’s the beauty of Bosi – he sends you on a crazy culinary adventure with no seatbelt or indication of the final destination, and the ride is all the better for it.

Hibiscus, 29 Maddox Street, London, W1S 2PA; Tel: +44 (0)20 7629 2999.

French cows fed red wine to enhance flavour

Giving a new meaning to the term laughing cow, a number of farmers in the Languedoc have taken to feeding their cattle local red wine to improve the flavour of their beef. As reported on db.com, local farmer Claude Chaballier has been feeding his cattle red wine from Saint-Geniès-des-Mourgues, resulting in “lean, marbled and tasty,” beef.

Chaballier fed the wine to three of his cows last year in a trial run, and is set to repeat the experiment next month. Two Angus cattle and one Camargue cow were fed a mixture of leftover grapes, barley and hay before two litres of wine were integrated into their diet. Keen to develop the practice locally, Chabellier says he will use a regional wine in next month’s experiment and is considering using Muscat from Lunel-Viel to give the meat an aromatic character.

Scientists in Australia have already found a link between feeding cows grape marc and an increase in milk production. Meanwhile, in 2010 it was reported that Canadian farmer Janice Ravndahl in British Columbia’s Okanagan Valley had taken to feeding her Angus cattle local red wine for the 90 days before slaughter. Ravndahl chanced upon the idea while watching celebrity chef Gordon Ramsay feed beer to his pigs on TV cookery programme The F Word.

According to Jean-Charles Tastavy, founder of Vinbovin, cows can consume up to a litre-and-a-half of wine per day, the human equivalent of two to three glasses. Tripling the cost of animal feed, Chabellier admits that the wine diet will inevitably affect pricing, pushing up the best cuts of beef to nearly €100. “It won’t be for all pockets,” he said, admitting that he aims to target top-end restaurants.

Undeterred by the high prices, Michelin-starred chef Laurent Pourcel is attracted to the meat’s unique texture and ability to caramelise during cooking. “All the finest restaurants in Paris are going to take it,” he said. The improved taste of the beef doesn’t just come from the chemistry involved in the change of diet; French researchers believe the occasional litre of wine may also increase a cow’s wellbeing.

Aubert & Mascoli

Aubert & Mascoli are the Gilbert & George of the wine world. Parisian Guillaume Aubert (left) sports large black framed glasses and a neatly coiffed beard, while Naples-born Giuseppe Mascoli (right), a philosophy graduate, part-time artist and self-confessed playboy, has short silver curls, a Mediterranean tan and is dressed head to toe in green on our meeting. They make unlikely business partners, but the ebullient Mascoli is the yin to soft-spoken Aubert’s yang. Having built up a successful restaurant business, with a portfolio including Blacks in Soho, pizza institution Franco Manca and neighbourhood Italian Rocca in Dulwich, while working as a sole trader bringing wine into the UK, in 2009 Mascoli joined forces with independent importer Aubert after a tip off by Anita le Roy, owner of Monmouth Coffee Company. “We were doing very similar things and had the same small grower philosophy, so it made sense to work together,” Mascoli tells me over a triple espresso in one of Blacks’ powder blue rooms.

In less than three years the pair have grown the company considerably, and now represent over 35 small growers from Italy and France. Despite their success, they are keen to remain niche. “We need to stand out by bringing in wines not available anywhere else in the UK,” Aubert explains. But with both Germany and Austria boasting impressive natural wine credentials, why do they limit themselves to Italy and France? “It’s what we know,” says Mascoli. “I’m toying with the idea of bringing in Austrian wine, but my knowledge isn’t up to scratch yet.” Aubert admits that they buy with their heart and not their head. “It might not be best for business, but it’s best for us,” he says. Piedmont, Friuli and Tuscany are well represented from Italy, while the Loire, Languedoc and Roussillon make up the majority of the French offering, with cameos from Burgundy, Provence, the Rhône and Champagne. Their best seller is Piedmont-based Valle Unite, Franco Manca’s house wine, which can’t produce enough wine to supply demand.

The pair are pious in their devotion to natural wine, refusing to work with any producers that use sulphites or other additives. “People are trying to shortcut millions of years of history by manipulating wines with selected yeasts. I’d rather a wine have oddities than be tailor-made,” says Mascoli, who compares industrial wines to “cartoon characters” made to please children. “Natural wine is like a silent assassin,” Aubert interjects. “The more you drink, the less you can drink other wines. You start reacting badly to them, coming out in rashes and swelling up from all the sulphites,” he explains animatedly. Though passionate trumpet blowers for the natural wine movement, the duo didn’t set out to create a natural wine company – the focus was always on small growers – but, fittingly, it came about naturally. “The producers we started working with all happened to be natural, organic or biodynamic. It wasn’t by design,” says Aubert, adding: “There’s a libertarian element to the natural wine movement that appeals to me. I like the idea of questioning the status quo. It’s very left wing.”

The duo go on six buying trips a year, visiting restaurants and bars to sniff out the local winemaking talent. They mainly work in the on-trade, supplying top London restaurants and wine bars, including the newly opened Duck Soup in Soho, Terroirs, Hibiscus, Pied à Terre, Galvin La Chapelle and Tom’s Kitchen. “We sell in places where the sommelier is able to explain what natural wine is, as most people don’t know what it means. The definition is a bit blurred at the moment, which is a problem,” Aubert laments. To generate awareness of the brand, the pair took part in the Natural Wine Fair in London Bridge last autumn, and were surprised by the popularity of the event. Aubert believes the natural wine movement has gathered momentum so quickly in London because the city is more prone to the effects of trends than the rest of Europe. While he admits the hype will level out this year, he is adamant that natural wines are here to stay. “They’ve come into fashion due to the rise of the critical drinker. Consumers want to know the origin of everything. There’s more awareness now,” he says.

Mascoli concedes that natural doesn’t necessarily mean good. “There are a lot of really bad natural wines out there. The wines are so delicate, it’s easy to screw them up,” he says. Being a natural winemaker isn’t enough to earn an Aubert & Mascoli listing. “We import wines that are good before they’re anything else. If you have to excuse the wines by saying they’re natural that’s missing the point,” asserts Aubert, who says that to make good natural wine you need to “work like a bastard in the vineyard” and keep your winery “as clean as a hospital”.

Mascoli, meanwhile, believes natural wines require a critical approach. “They’re a bit like the works of Karl Marx: not intended for the masses. Marx was writing for a specific audience with a sufficient level of knowledge to understand and appreciate his work. The same can be said for natural wines,” he suggests. Having submitted work to last year’s Venice Biennale, does Mascoli see parallels with wine and art? “I see wine as the opposite of art,” he says. “God, the artist and the poet create out of nothing. The winemaker works with what is already in existence, acting as a pimp for nature, from the fruit he picks to the soil he respects. The winemaker is a shaman. He doesn’t create, he cures.”

Duncan Murray

Wine and the City meets Duncan Murray of Duncan Murray Wines in Market Harborough, and finds out how he got into wine, where his passion for the Languedoc came from, and why he can't get enough of quirky indigenous Portuguese grapes Bastardo and Dog Strangler.

The Semillons rise again

My eyes are on stalks and my mouth wide open. In front of me are eight middle-aged men in double-stringed red thongs. Their powder white skin paired with the red G-strings makes them look like Santa's little helpers.

With cocky, come-hither expressions, they begin thrusting and gyrating in their thongs, and 300 excited women scramble to the stage to catch a glimpse of The Semillons in action. I've never seen so much flesh.

The hotly anticipated strip tease has been five years in the making. In 2005, Decanter's Tasting Director Christelle Guibert rounded up the original Semillons troupe, made up of such wine world luminaries as The Times wine critic Tim Atkin, importer Michael Palij, the aptly-named Wines of Chile head Michael Cox and Waitrose wine buyer Andrew Shaw, who stripped down to their birthday suits to raise money for Everyman, Europe's only male cancer research centre.

Five years on, Christelle treated us to some fresh blood in the form of the (even more) aptly named Barry Dick, wine buyer for Sainsbury's, bright young sommelier Gearoid Devany, Vinopolis MD Rupert Ellwood and The Independent's wine critic Anthony Rose. As soon as the guys hit the stage, high-pitched screams bounce around the room like ping pong balls. It's a full on oestrogen fest, like some large scale, slightly terrifying hen night. The troupe, who clearly think they are gods by this point, react positively to their warm reception, throwing themselves into the routine with brio.

Michael Cox and Anthony Rose are my side of the stage. Cox is in his element, flexing his muscles and gyrating his hips like his life depended on it. A Chippendales contract surely beckons. Rose however, seems slightly more aware of his semi-naked state. Tim is a natural, and throws some impressive shapes. His facial expressions veer between agony and ecstasy. Barry Dick, with his buff, sporty body, gets the loudest screams and the most bottom pinches.

Aside from the excitement of the main event, all manner of other treats await. Ex French rugby international turned Languedoc winemaker Gerard Bertrand is auctioned off at half time. I'd interviewed design and restaurant mogul Sir Terence Conran earlier that day and told him about the auction. He responded with a raised eyebrow. 'So what do you get for your money then?' He asked. 'I'm not sure yet', I replied. Looking dashing in a charcoal grey suit, Bertrand is sent up on stage and made to wait while the auction takes place. He went for £120 to a lucky blonde. I later spotted her glued to him next to the Comte wheel.

The Semillons were the talk of the Decanter office the next morning. I don't think I can ever look at Anthony Rose and co in quite the same light again. The phone rings. It's Sir Terence Conran. 'So how did your auction go then?', he asks me. 'He went for £120', I tell him. 'And what did the winning bidder get for that then?', he asks, intrigued. 'A dance and a quick chat afterwards', I say, 'For £120 I would have wanted a lot more than that', he says, laughing, and puts the phone down.

Duncan Murray Wines

With a government left hanging and seemingly no nearer to any concrete conclusions about who should run the country, I left London on Friday afternoon on the 5.30 train to Nottingham, swigging a Red Bull and chomping on a Caramel to keep me awake.

Jumping off an hour later at Market Harborough in Leicestershire, I headed, father in tow, to Duncan Murray Wines on Adam and Eve street for a tasting of their newest wines.

Duncan Murray is something of a celebrity in Market Harborough – he appeared in Come Dine With Me and hosts regular Saturday tastings at his shop. Having worked in the Languedoc in the late '90s, Murray specializes in the region and bares a striking resemblance to fellow Languedoc lover, wine writer-turned-winemaker Monty Waldin.

Passionate about the region, Murray believes the Languedoc still has huge potential, and strives to source wines from hard to find small producers like Domaine du Poujol. Arriving at the shop, I noticed the word 'olé' had been spray-painted onto the window. I liked it already.

There were 21 wines on show from a variety of regions including Campania, Verona, Rioja and Alentejo. The Domaine de Poujol Rosé 2009 was an attractive onion skin colour and had a crisp, melony nose and smooth, creamy palate - a perfect picnic wine. The Conde de Jauregui Crianza 2006 had a lovely savoury, meaty nose, with red fruit, coffee bean, spice and tobacco all mixing on the palate.

My wine of the night was next in line - the Aglianico Terredora 2008 from Campania. At £12.99 it was the most expensive wine on show, but the quality shone through. Imported by Michael Palij MW though his Oxford-based Winetraders company, the nose showed sweet, unctuous red fruit - cherries, raspberries and plums, with a velvety licquorice-filled palate and a grippy, chocolatey body. It was too lovely to spit out.

Other notable highlights included a dusky, damsony Corvina from Verona, a silky, supple Cabernet Sauvignon Merlot blend from Corbieres, a juicy, cantaloupe fuelled Domaine du Poujol Pico made from a blend of Vermentino, Carignan Blanc and Roussanne, and golfer Ernie Els' coconut and toffee filled Guardian Peak Merlot.

I whizzed round the wines, going back to my favorites for a second sip. It was impressive to see quality and complexity at amazing value, with most of the wines costing between £5.99-£8.99. It proves quality needn't come with an eye-watering price tag. Talking to Duncan and his team gave me a renewed enthusiasm for wine, and the quest to seek out hidden gems from lesser-known regions, providing consumers with an inspiring range of wines beyond the confines of the supermarket.

Small independent merchants are a consumer's link to the great wine regions of the world, and we as wine writers should be doing everything we can to flag up these unsung heroes. Without them, wine buying would be a far duller experience.

Chateau d'Anglès at Hix

Last week I found myself at Hix restaurant twice in as many days. I partied in the downstairs bar on Monday night at the launch of KitchenAid's new range of blenders. It doesn't sound very glam, but the cocktails that were coming out of those bad boys were amazing. KitchenAid is the i-pod of the blender world. The range comes in a series of cool colours, so you can sync it with your Smeg.

I was invited back on Wednesday for a wine dinner hosted by Eric Fabre of Languedoc-based Château d'Anglès. Fabre, a tall, svelte, silver fox, spent eight years at Château Lafite as technical director, before moving to the lesser-known Médoc estate Château La Cordonne for six years. He's now making interesting wines in the Languedoc.

Ten of them were on show, alongside a sensational tasting menu whipped up by Hix himself. First up we tried the 2009 rosé, which was an attractive flamingo pink. Rounded and creamy, with notes of strawberries and cream, it made for delightfully easy drinking.

Our appetizers were divine – cods tongues with whipped squash and hazelnuts served alongside the Classique Blanc 2008. Made from 50% Bourboulenc, a grape much-championed by Fabre, the wine had a lovely stone and tropical fruit nose, with peach, pineapple and melon in the mix. I also found citrus notes, and hints of cut grass. Rounded, creamy and almost waxy in the mouth, its searing acidity kept it fresh.

Next up were the starters – wood pigeon on toast with chickweed, served with the Classique Rouge 2007. The pigeon was wonderfully cooked, albeit slightly overpowered by the pungent paté underneath. As for the wine, the Syrah dominated the blend, with velvety black fruits and white pepper dancing out of the glass.

For our main, Mark served Glencoe red deer haunch with bashed neeps, beetroot sauce and french fries. Pink and juicy, the deer was cooked pefectly and was a stunning match for the Grand Vin Rouge 2007, my wine of the night. The nose was an opulent mix of bramble fruits, plums, black cherries and black berries, wrapped in soft, creamy vanilla. The fruit was ripe, juicy and mouthfilling, with sweet spice lingering on the finish. It had amazing balance and elegance despite being a blockbuster, and disappeared very quickly from my glass.

Fabre laid on a vertical tasting of his Grand Vin Blanc with the cheese course, where we compared the '03, '04 and '05 vintages. It was fascinating to track the wine's evolution, and to find so many differences from year to year. The '05 was the lightest and freshest of the three, with a peachy nose and a rich, buttery mouthfeel.

2004 was a crowd pleaser. Fuller-bodied than the '05, the honeyed aromas were starting to come through, and yet it retained a wonderful freshness, with notes of ginger lingering. My favourite was the '03. It showed lovely development, with a delicious nose of honeysuckle, white flower and faint petrol aromas. Rounded, rich and complex, the unctuous palate retained its youthful vigor. I found it utterly charming.

Top cap off the evening, we got to try something special with our Bakewell puddings – Oorain Victoria 2006 (pictured), a sweet wine made from 90% Syrah and 10% Maple Syrup. Fabre's cousin is a chocolatier and encouraged him to add it to the blend. It worked surprisingly well. By this stage tasting notes eluded me, so I have no record of the wine, but I remember fresh figs on the nose. A smily and unassuming Mark Hix came through the sliding doors and got stuck into a glass. He seemed to like it. I left as the Venezuelan black truffles started doing the rounds feeling full as a goose, in a good way.