Drew Barrymore wine

Hollywood starlet Drew Barrymore has joined the likes of Francis Ford Coppola, Madonna, Dan Aykroyd and Antonio Banderas by launching her own wine, in a move that hints wine may be gaining ground on perfume as the next big celebrity trend.

As reported on thedrinksbusiness.com, Barrymore 2011 Pinot Grigio, Delle Venezie IGT, a 12% abv crisp, dry and fruity white, is made from grapes grown in the Veneto, Friuli and Alto Adige in northern Italy. Barrymore, known for her roles in films such as Charlie’s Angels, Never Been Kissed, 50 First Dates and E.T., said she wanted to create a “fresh, dynamic and fun” wine that reflected her style and personality.

“Wine is all about the journey, the discovery of new places and new varieties,” she said, adding, “I’m excited about sharing this Pinot Grigio with my friends and family and other wine lovers.” According to Barrymore’s California-based distributor, Wilson Daniels, the wine has a pale straw colour and offers hints of “fresh apricot and lively citrus flavours”.

The label – designed by street artist Shepard Fairey, creator of the famous 2008 red and blue Barack Obama “Hope” poster – features the Barrymore family crest. The wine, which is fermented and aged in stainless steel tanks, will launch in California at US$19.99 a bottle, before expanding its distribution across the US later in the year.

Regional charcuterie at Cantina del Ponte

Struggling with the January detox? If you're sick of salad and craving a meat injection, then head to Italian institution Cantina del Ponte in Shad Thames, which is celebrating all things meaty this winter. Executive chef Claudio Gottardo is passionate about all things porcine, and, keen to flag up the regional differences of Italian cured meats, he's devised a monthly menu of meaty treats for January, February and March from Italy's northern, central and southern regions, each with an accompanying pasta dish and glass of wine from the respective regions.

Italy's top cured meats, such as Parma and San Daniele ham, have come to be viewed as luxury items, but were conversely born out of necessity, the meat being cured as a means of preserving it through winter. Kicking off 2012 in style, I was invited to try out all three meaty menus for size, beginning my journey in Northern Italy with a platter of Bresaola, Prosciutto, Lardo and Speck. Made from the top part of the leg of beef, Bresaola is salted for three weeks then air-dried for three months until it darkens to almost purple and develops a sweet, musky smell. Fast becoming the meat of the moment, the melt-in-the-mouth Lardo is devilishly decadent, made almost entirely of pearl white fat, taken from the layer of fat just under the skin of the pig's neck. Once considered a peasant snack, the meat is cured using salt, pepper, sage and cloves, resulting in a silky, almost bone marrow-like texture.

We end the platter with shreds of Speck from Alto Adige on the Austrian/Swiss border. Combining seasoning and smoking with lashings of fresh air, the resulting ham is aged for at least 22 weeks and has a moreish, bacon-like character. Our first pasta dish is a pair of pesto-green gnocci balls rich from the sage butter and threaded with parsley and parmesan. To match, the sommelier pours a glass of Alpha Zeta V Valpolicella 2010, bursting with juicy red cherries. Unmistakably Italian, its palate is laced with leather and liquorice.

Our second meat plate takes us down the boot to Central Italy, and the delights of Wild Boar Salami, Parma ham, Mortadella and Culatello. Deriving from the Latin for salt (sal), wild boar salami, a typical dish from the Maremma, is made from a mixture of mince meat, fat, salt and spices. The sausage is cured in the traditional salting method for over a month, giving the meat an incredibly rich, gamey flavour. Italy's best-known cured meat, Parma ham, dates back to the Middle Ages, while the candyfloss pink Mortadella harks back to the Roman Empire. Made from minced pork shoulder, fat squares are added as the meat is seasoned. The result is pleasingly porcine.

The pear-shaped Culatello comes from Emilia Romagna, and is only made between October and February, when the region is enshrouded in fog. Taken from the thigh of adult pigs, the meat is aged for a year until it becomes ruby red and develops its signature sweetness. Accompanying the meat is a dish of penne with cured pigs cheeks in a spicy tomato sauce, and a generous glass of Frentano Montepulciano de Abruzzo 2010, that bursts with ripe raspberries and blackberries, its voluptuous body balanced by dusty tannins.

For the final furlong of our carnivorous feast, we move to Southern Italy, turning up the heat with Spicy Salami, Porchetta, Nduja and Soppressata. Hailing from Naples, the salami is made of minced pork and chili peppers, salt and spices cured for three months. Porchetta meanwhile, is a light pink meat made from a whole pig, which is drained, boned and seasoned with salt, garlic and copious herbs then roasted in a wood fire oven for six hours.

The exotically-named Nduja is a soft and spicy salami from Calabria made from smoked pig fat and chili peppers. Traditionally a peasants dish created to use up the scraps of the pig, it's best enjoyed slathered over toast. Last to be tasted on the platter is Soppressata, which has been produced in Basilicata for three centuries and derives from noble cuts of ham seasoned with salt and whole peppercorns. To match is a bowl of broccoli-green orecchiette (little ear) pasta from Puglia with bitter turnip tops and anchovies, and a glass of La Casada Salice Salentino 2009. Spicy, savoury and seductive, it proves a perfect pairing for the undulating waves of meat. Earthy and bursting with sweet cherries and stewed plums, it charms at first sip.

Roganic

I’m running late for Ben Spalding – literally, running down Blandford Street in Marylebone hoping to catch the head chef before service. It’s 6.15 on a Tuesday evening and a pair of hungry Americans are already perched in Roganic’s compact, 25-seater space lined with lugubrious abstract expressionist paintings, waiting to be fed. Spotting Spalding on entry, I corner the charismatic 24-year-old before he disappears downstairs. Decked out in chef whites, his rolled up sleeves reveal arms heavily inked with tattoos. Musical notes and red and blue jigsaw pieces climb up each limb, alongside the name Tilda (his baby daughter), and the phrase ‘keep your feet on earth but your head in the clouds,’ – “As a chef, you spend so many hours in the kitchen, it’s important to be able to dream a little bit, otherwise you go crazy,” Spalding tells me. His speech is fast and furious, his words spat out like bullets. The world it seems, doesn’t move fast enough for him.

While most pop-ups have the lifespan of a dragonfly, Roganic is stretching the definition with a two-year venture. The brainchild of Simon Rogan, of Michelin-starred L’Enclume in Cumbria, Roganic (a hybrid of Rogan and organic), prides itself on locally sourced (preferably foraged), seasonal organic ingredients. Manning the mothership in Cumbria, Rogan has handed over the reins to the energetic and fiercely creative Spalding. In the absence of an à la carte, diners can opt for a six- or 10-course tasting menu, with a vegetarian option available in both formats. The championing of British produce begins as soon as I sit down, when a glass of salmon pink Chapel Down Brut Rosé NV is opened and poured by the restaurant’s affable 23-year-old manager Jonathon Cannon. Team Roganic is scandalously young and ridiculously clued-up about the minutiae of the courses. With the theatrical arrival of each new dish comes an exhaustive explanation of the origins of every last ingredient.

In front of me lies a solitary black pebble, foraged by Spalding from a beach in Folkstone. Pondering the philosophical significance of the stone, I become privy to its purpose when a waiter arrives wielding a knife and slathers it in sea salt-flecked, well-whipped butter to be spread on an array of freshly baked spherical bread, including buttermilk, spelt and pumpernickel, all with warm, fluffy interiors. The first step of our edible journey begins with an amuse-bouche of squid ink paper with lind seeds, aioli and cucumber foam, accessorised with an edible purple pansy. It is a thing of beauty, and too pretty to put in my mouth, but when I do I’m rewarded with an explosion of flavour and texture, from the crunchy black paper, to the creamy foam and silky flower. This is the laying down of the gauntlet; a glimpse of the culinary peacockery Spalding is capable of, which perfectly sets the tone for the dishes ahead.

To describe all 10, (15 if you account for amuse-bouches and palate cleansers), would be to fill a book, so I’ll stick to the highlights. Our first dish: heirloom tomato, poached lamb tongue and dill custard is as curious as it is delicious. The playful preoccupation with texture is a thread weaved throughout each course. Multi-layered and deconstructed, the dish is of such complexity, it feels like the culinary equivalent of Inception. Strangely, the overriding flavour is of the warm, salty gherkins you encounter in a McDonald’s cheeseburger, despite the dish being gherkin free. It’s a very specific and nostalgic taste; the taste of childhood. Dish three: smoked Cornish ling, arrives dramatically in a Plath-esque bell jar billowing with smoke. Protected by a crab apple shield, the ling is nestled in a bed of crispy onion slithers that lend the ensemble an enticing smoky edge.

Mention must be made of the wine. Throughout the five-hour epic, we are offered seven glasses from any array of regions, including Washington, Santorini, Campania and Wagram. To my disappointment, my glass remained empty on a number of occasions, our switched-on sommelier Sandia Chang (previously of Per Se) pouring frugal measures rather than full glasses. With a £50 supplement for wine, I was hoping my cup would runneth over. And we didn’t see red until dish nine – a haunting Alto Adige Lagrein brimming with cherries, rose petals and tealeaves – having been inundated with cool climate whites. Food is very much the star of the show at Rognic, with wine happy to play a reliable if uninspiring supporting role.

Back to the main event – dish five: pig and smoked eel comprises two square croquettes amid a tweezer-shaped swoosh of canary yellow pickled corn dotted with mustard seeds that detonate gently on the palate. The sugar cube-shaped squares burst with flavour on biting, displaying the smoky bacon character of Frazzles. Has Spalding been let loose with the monosodium glutamate? Mixing the forest and the sea in dish six: grilled langoustine, purple sprouting broccoli and loganberry oil, is the only miss of the evening – the subtle flavour of the crustacean overpowered by the sweet berries. But the broccoli is the best I’ve ever tasted, expertly timed to give it a satisfying crunch.

Meat makes a cameo appearance in dish nine, in the form of a perfectly pink cut of Cumbrian veal cooked in buttermilk. Soft as a pillow, it melts in the mouth. We are then treated to a septet of British cheeses, lovingly cut by our a walking encyclopedia of a waiter, including the nettle-wrapped Cornish Yarg and intensely tangy Harbourne Blue, enhanced by miniature poached pears. In preparation for the final furlong; a trio of desserts, our palates are cleansed with a vivifying ginger beer granita. Soldiering on, we munch our way through the textured trilogy, the highlight being a scoop of frozen natural yoghurt set beneath a dried caramel roof. Completing the homage to childhood flavours, the bilberries recall blackcurrant Fruit Pastilles.

At £80 for 10 courses, with a £50 supplement for wine, Roganic isn’t cheap, but it’s a destination restaurant. A night in its clutches is as entertaining, awe-inspiring and surprising as a night at the opera. Dish after dish, Spalding delights with his exquisite presentation, playful flavour combinations and deftly cooked ingredients. To send out hundreds of equally beautiful plates a night is testament to his exacting standards. These are more than dishes; they’re edible works of art to be deliberated over then devoured. It will be fascinating to see what this wild child does next.

Roganic, 19, Blandford St, London W1U 3DH

Tel: +44(0)20 7486 0380