d'Arenberg "Dadd" sparkling wine released

McLaren Vale producer d’Arenberg has released a limited edition sparkling wine called Dadd. As reported on thedrinksbusiness.com, the label carries the signature d’Arenberg red sash, which bears a striking resemblance to a Champagne house with a similarly familial name.

Chief winemaker Chester Osborn revealed the project has been one hundred years in the making. “Four generations of dads have culminated in this celebratory project. It has taken us a century to produce a high end sparkling wine from high altitude vineyards in the Adelaide Hills – the highest altitude in fact,” he said.

The non-vintage sparkler is a blend of 52% Chardonnay, 40% Pinot Noir and 8% Pinot Meunier. As to the wine’s reception in the UK, Osborn is confident it will be welcomed with good humour. “I’m really excited about it. We wanted to call it Dadd with a double ‘d’ because there are so many of us involved with the project”, he said.

In defense of the provocative label, he said: “The Dadd label features the red sash because all of our wines have it – it’s been with us for sixty years.” 2012 marks the 100th anniversary of the family-owned winery.

Fleeting eateries: pop-up restaurants

When Michelin star-spangled American chef Thomas Keller announced he was to launch a pop-up version of his landmark Napa Valley restaurant The French Laundry in a section of Harrods’ Georgian Restaurant for ten days in October and charge customers £250 a head for a seat, British gastronomes wept with both joy and despair. That such an acclaimed chef would set up shop on our shores is testament to the strength of Britain’s burgeoning pop-up scene, but his £250 price tag rendered the experience attainable only to the super rich. In the most ambitious project to hit London’s temporary dining scene, the 70-cover Californian institution, lauded as America’s best restaurant, will be faithfully replicated in the luxury department store, with Keller offering a nine course tasting menu for those lucky enough to land a reservation. “Pop-ups are a lot of fun, but they’re usually done in less than pristine environments and are almost like the thief of the night,” Keller says. “It’s an enormous amount of work, but what’s better than combining The French Laundry with an iconic property with world-class appeal?”

The project came into fruition after Harrods approached the Yountville-based chef last spring. “The energy, excitement and commitment behind this project is extraordinary and sets another benchmark for what a pop-up restaurant can be,” Keller enthuses. Wine, which will conveniently come from the expansive Harrods wine department rather than being outsourced, will be “integral” to the pop-up, with 1,500 bins on offer ranging from £50 to an eye-watering £16,000. Making a cameo on the list will be Modicum, The French Laundry’s own, small production Napa Cabernet, while Michel Couvreux of Keller’s New York restaurant Per Se will be on sommelier duty, tailoring recommendations to suit guests’ individual tastes.

Reaction to the project has been mixed. Such was the outrage on Twitter that Keller was charging £250 for the chance of a London French Laundry experience, that food blogger Sabrina Ghayour decided to create a spin-off, cheekily titled The French Laundrette, and charge only £2.50 a head – 1% of Keller’s asking price, for a seven course tasting menu. Drawing inspiration from Keller’s signature dishes, the supper club will open for one night only – Sunday 2 October, at The Chancery restaurant in the City of London, with all donations going to Action Against Hunger. Ghayour launched the event via Twitter, highlighting the importance of the social media site not only for the survival of pop-ups, but also the creation of them. “Twitter is massively important,” says Ghayour. “It allows you to strike up relationships and network with like-minded bloggers. What started off as a joke soon went viral, and I had food and wine suppliers offering to help out, so decided to go for it.”

Social media savvy Naked Wines saw Sabrina’s tweet and quickly got in touch, offering to supply all the wines she needed for free. “It sounded like a really good idea,” says Naked’s Derek Hardy. “We liked that it was for charity and thought Keller’s asking price was extortionate, so we wanted to get behind it.” Diners can opt for a flight of wines to match each dish, or play it safe with a bottle of house red or white. On going to press, the wines had yet to be finalised, but they will all be from lesser-known, independent producers from France, New Zealand, Italy and Spain. “Wine will be pivotal in raising money for charity,” says Ghayour, who has yet to decide how much she will charge for it. Boutique Hammersmith distiller Sipsmith has also stepped in, providing the gin and vodka for the complimentary arrival cocktails. “The French Laundrette shows exactly what social media can do,” says Hardy. “Of course it will be at a cost to us, but we’re a community and we help each other out. It’s a fun project to be involved in. London’s pop-up scene is electric at the moment – there’s so much talent being unearthed.”

While most pop-ups have the lifespan of a dragonfly, Roganic in London’s Marylebone is stretching the definition with a two year venture. The brainchild of Simon Rogan, of Michelin-starred L’Enclume in Cumbria, Roganic prides itself on locally sourced, (preferably foraged), seasonal organic ingredients. Diners can opt for a six or 10 course tasting menu whipped up by ambitious and outspoken 25-year-old chef Ben Spalding, whom Rogan has handed the reins to. The project came about when Rogan was offered the Blandford Street site by an estate agent with two years left to run on the lease. “The quirky underground feel of the space fitted with what we wanted to do. I like the freedom a pop-up brings. It’s not about drapery and expensive lighting; it’s about what goes on the plate.”

Rogan believes Roganic’s focus on vegetables signals the next stage in dining out. “People are moving away from prime cuts, and further and further towards vegetables. We offer a 10 course vegetarian tasting menu but the trick is to use the ingredients in such a way that people don’t even realise there isn’t any meat on the plate.” Wine plays an “incredibly important” role at Roganic, according to Rogan, with around 90 bins priced between £26-129 on offer. The focus is very much on organic and biodynamic natural wines, and the list is heavily weighted towards whites due to the abundance of fish on the menu. “We change the list a lot to keep things fresh,” Rogan says. Isn’t it a bit risky focusing on “natural” wines? “They might be dead in a year or two and stop being interesting to people, but the craze has yet to die down. The industry is forever changing, but that’s the beauty of a pop-up – you’re able to push the boundaries and experiment, and if something doesn’t work, it’s easy to change it.”

The restaurant works with a number of suppliers, including Les Caves de Pyrène, Dudley & de Fleury, Fields Morris & Verdin and grower Champagne specialist Vine Trail, with by the glass offerings from the likes of Chapel Down and Dr. Loosen, and bottles from Domaine Albert Mann and Zind Humbrecht. “If you build good relationships with suppliers, then they come to you,” says manager Jonathon Cannon. “We’re in the fortunate position of being able to choose who we work with. Ideally, you should have at least three suppliers – any less is limiting, but it’s harder with a short term venture,” Cannon admits. Pop-ups set up by established chefs are at an advantage in terms of sourcing wine, as they are able to use the same suppliers as their flagship. Les Caves de Pyrène only agreed to supply Roganic due to its strong relationship with L’Enclume, as sales rep Dario Poddana explains: “Roganic’s manager used to be a client of ours, so we were keen to get involved.” Working with previous clients limits the risk for suppliers, who seem wary of one-off projects. “Roganic wasn’t dangerous for us, as it was essentially an existing account. We’d only do one-offs if we receive cash on delivery, but even then we’d rather avoid it and stick to working with people we know and trust.”

Fiona Cochran, marketing director of Bibendum, which supplied 10 wines for Michelin-starred chef Robert Thompson’s Northwood House pop-up during Cowes week last year, agrees: “We got involved with Robert’s pop-up as a result of supplying his restaurant at The Hamborough Hotel. Events like this don’t provide sustainable sales, but taken on a one-off basis can certainly be profitable.” Would Bibendum consider working with another pop-up? “Certainly,” Cochran says, “But it would all depend on the specific opportunity. It can be a great chance to sell wine to a new customer base. The term “pop-up” has become slightly overplayed, but the best examples, such as The French Laundry, can still pull in the crowds as long as they’re creative and offer an amazing dining experience in an unusual environment.”

The recession has forced restaurateurs to think outside the box, and indeed, the restaurant. Pop-ups give chefs an arena in which to innovate their chef whites off, cut costs and experiment without going bankrupt. A pop-up doesn’t need to lay down foundations, it just needs an element of theatre and spectacle. It doesn’t even need a reputation – just enough hungry people to fuel it. Their evanescent nature is a huge part of the appeal, especially in a city like London, which has become almost unhealthily obsessed with the “new”. “There’s real quality coming from the underground dining scene,” says Rogan. “There will always be a market for fine dining, but the way in which food is served is changing. We’re seeing a movement away from stuffy spaces to top-notch food coming out of casual environments.” Pop-ups are a symbol of our fast moving times. Experiences are becoming more and more ephemeral. We have come to demand a forever changing culinary landscape, and the shoestring budget required for a pop-up allows this to happen. As our culture becomes ever more disposable, so does our dining scene. In today’s fluid times, pop-ups are the only thing malleable enough to be able to keep up to date with the day-to-day.

Here today, gone tomorrow

Legendary French chef Pierre Koffmann got the luxury pop-up ball rolling in 2009 with a month-long pop-up at Selfridges. The former three-Michelin-starred chef patron of La Tante Claire replicated his Royal Hospital Road eatery in a marquee on the roof of the department store for 80 lucky guests a night, marking both his return to cooking and the start of the inaugural London Restaurant Festival. The £75 set menu now appears cheap compared to Keller’s £250ar offering.

East London institution Bistrotheque celebrated the excess and glamour of the ‘80s for five days in July with its “88” pop-up in a soon-to-be-demolished postmodern office building in Canary Wharf. Somewhere between a historical document and a soap opera, the menu featured dishes from the culinary giants of the decade. Mumm provided the bubbles, matching each course with a different Champagne. Guests were ferried to the venue Miami Vice style in a speedboat.

UK art gallery Lazarides, owned by the man who launched Banksy’s career, has joined forces with pioneering pop-up caterers Kofler & Kompanie to create a subterranean restaurant, bar and art gallery in the Old Vic tunnels beneath Waterloo station. Opening on 10 October for two weeks, the Minotaur & Pret A Diner project will see Michelin-starred chefs Nuno Mendes of Viajante and Andreas Caminada from Switzerland’s Schauenstein man the stoves at the pop-up, which coincides with the London Restaurant Festival and Frieze Art Fair.

Champagne

A rhinoceros is not something you’d associate with Champagne. The odd-toed ungulate and northeastern French wine region seemingly have very little in common, and yet in the space of three days, I had two encounters with the African animal – the first housed within an imposing painting hung above the bed on my hotel room wall, and the second in the form of a gargoyle jutting out from the Notre-Dame de Reims cathedral. A symbol of fertility and courage, it was hoped that the rhino’s presence on the façade would imbue worshiping kings with physical and mental strength.

My journey to the land of bubbles begins in a civilized manner on a Sunday morning with a slender flute of ice-cold Gosset and a platter of aphrodisiacal oysters, so fresh you could clean your contacts in them, at the St Pancras Grand Champagne Bar in King’s Cross – the longest bar in Europe. Joined by fellow Champagne socialites Douglas Blyde and Denise Medrano, affectionately known as The Wine Sleuth, our fizz lesson continues in earnest aboard the Eurostar – in a carriage populated with beshrouded women festooned with bangles, with shot glasses of Champagne Pannier.

Ninety miles northeast of Paris, Champagne is France’s most northerly appellation. Curiously, the predominantly white sparkling wine is made from two black grapes – Pinot Noir and Pinot Meunier (a relative of Pinot Noir), and one white: Chardonnay. Each of the grapes brings something different to the sorting table – the Pinot Noir backbone, the Pinot Meunier fruit and the Chardonnay freshness, leading to a complex and attractive final blend. Champagne can also be made solely with Chardonnay (Blanc de Blancs) or the two black grapes (Blanc de Noirs). All sparkling wine starts life still. With Champagne, the fizz occurs in the bottle when a secondary fermentation takes place after sugar and yeast are added. The yeasts devour the sugar, converting it into alcohol and carbon dioxide.

A word bandied about daily in the wine press is “terroir”, loosely translated as “a sense of place”, and used to describe the special characteristics that the geography, geology and climate of a region bestow upon its grape varieties. Champagne’s terrain is made up of deep layers of chalk, which often translates into the wines in the form of a steely mineral core. Of its 319 villages, a mere 17 have been designated as “Grand Cru” sites, which include Bouzy, Äy and Le Mesnil. Like Sherry, Champagne runs the gamut of styles from bone dry Zero Dosage to Doux, a sweet dessert wine.

But enough with the science. Our first pit stop is with small grower Champagne Henriet-Bazin in Villers-Marmery. We enter a domestic space populated with painted landscapes, a twig-filled fireplace and a giant urn in the far corner. A comforting smell of home cooking saunters through the kitchen door. Proprietor Nicolas Rainon’s wife is passionate about daring food pairings for Champagne, and seems keen to try out her latest discoveries on us, beginning with salt marsh lamb paté and Blanc de Blancs Brut, which works surprisingly well – the saltiness of the lamb complimenting the saline mineral notes in the wine. The most ambitious match of the meal was attempting to pit their Blanc de Noirs against the might of Boeuf Bourguignon, which was always doomed to fail, but the grainy pear tart and Rosé Brut combination is inspired.

Post feast, I’m licked hello by tiny winery dog Estéphe, named after the Left Bank Bordeaux commune. As proud as the Champenois are, I’m surprised he hasn’t been crowned with a name like Epernay. Nicolas ushers us into his scuffed 4 x 4, navigating the narrow streets into a forest where only he dares drive. After a perilous few minutes, we reach a clearing and are within touching distance of the vines. Shafts of afternoon light beam on the leaves, making them glow a vibrant green. After careering down a hill capable of totaling both us and the car, we pass a glass-fronted lighthouse and the iconic Mumm windmill, which plays host to A-list private parties.

Before death becomes us, we move swiftly on to Champagne Ployez-Jacquemart in the sleepy village of Ludes, where we’re greeted by gregarious proprietor Madame Laurence Ployez, resplendent in red. Bought in 1930 by her grandfather, the estate boasts an adorable B&B pregnant with flowers, which housed British soldiers during the Second World War, and safeguarded German soldiers after. A “Kill Hitler” scribbling written by a British soldier in 1939 is still visible in one of the rooms. When German soldiers besieged Ludes, the Ployez family fled to Pompadour in Southern France, building a wall between their two cellars before they left, in which to hide their belongings from looters.

After a tour of the cavernous cellars straight from the pages of an Edgar Allan Poe short story, we sit out on the terrace, glass in hand, sun dipping deep, and indulge in Madame’s exquisite pastries while furry-footed chickens roam the well manicured lawn. The pair of Prestige Cuvées we try – 1996 and 1998 Liesse d’Harbonville are an exciting discovery. Elegant, poised and textured, they could hold their own against any of the Grandes Marques.

Capping off our adventure, we pay a visit to Champagne Jacquesson the next morning, run by brothers Jean-Hervé and Laurent Chiquet. With a production of 300,000 bottles a year, Jacquesson bridges the gap between Grande Marque and grower Champagne. A hybrid of Vito Corleone and Jean-Paul Belmondo, we’re given a tour by the charismatic and outspoken Jean-Hervé, who proudly shows us his Chardonnay grapes being crushed to a soundtrack of Simon & Garfunkel.

A coach cruises past the estate filled with raucous rogues tooting foghorns and screaming with glee. I presume a stag party has lost its way. “They’re our pickers,” says Chiquet. “They’ve just finished and are celebrating the end of the harvest.” Chiquet is audacious in his winemaking approach, shunning the idea of a house style in favour of producing the best wine he can each year from the grapes he’s grown. “There’s no point trying to imitate the big guys, I want to stand out from the crowd.”

Before hopping back on the Eurostar, we make a pilgrimage to the breathtakingly beautiful 13th century Notre-Dame de Reims cathedral. Inside, the interiors burn with jewel-like hues from a sea of stained glass. In one window, I spot Benedictine monk Dom Pérignon (after which the famous fizz is named) indulging in a spot of riddling, and in another, soaring saints by French painter Marc Chagall, but sadly, not a violin-playing goat in sight.

Champagne Mumm lunch at The Ritz

There are certain rites of passage in the life of a gastronome, and lunch at The Ritz is one of them. When a Ritz-shaped invitation landed on my desk the other week, I almost fell off my chair with excitement. Writing for a drinks magazine, I'm never short of enticing invitations, but there's something special about The Ritz. It still stands for something.

And so it was, that I left the office last week and headed for Green Park under a cornflower blue sky with a spring in my step. The lunch was celebrating the launch of Champagne Mumm Cuvée R. Lalou 1999. A chilled glass of Mumm NV awaited me on arrival, along with a besuited swarm of thirsty wine journalists. There was palapable excitement in the room in anticipation of the feast. I'd bumped into a Mumm rep at the recent Bibendum EC1 tasting, and, having already tasted through the menu, he informed me that black truffles made an appearance in almost every dish. My mouth had been watering for a week.

After a brief introductory speech by winemaker Didier Mariotti, we were soon ushered from the floral drawing room, through a pair of giant, gold-knockered doors into the Rubens red William Kent room complete with soaringly high ceilings, gothic candelabra, swagging that would make Laurence Llewelyn Bowen weep with pride, and quirky paintings of long limbed birds.

I was sat next to Sotheby's head of wine Serena Sutcliffe MW, resplendent in turquoise. She told me of her pre-Sotheby's days working as an interpreter in Paris, and went on to mention the recent Picasso sale at Sotheby's, where a portrait of Picasso's 17-year-old blonde mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter went for £25m. "Picasso walked up to her in the street and said 'we're going to do amazing things together'", Sutcliffe tells me, her blue eyes bright.

After a verbal tour of the tasting menu from unsung head chef John Williams, lunch soon begins in earnest. As an experiment, we were to try six examples of the Cuvée R. Lalou, served at six different temperatures, two degrees apart from 6-16ºC, to explore how temperature effects the character of Champagne. The warmer the Champagne, the more dominant the Pinot Noir becomes in the blend.

The seven course meal begins in a spectacular fashion with a simple salad of Périgord truffles, king oyster mushrooms and Pecorino. The tangy cheese, papery mushrooms, heady truffle and citrusy salad make for a wonderful flavour combination. Both light and indulgent, intoxicating and refreshing – an oxymoron of a dish. Next up is carpaccio of smoked eel (pictured above), which looked like a play mat and tasted equally ludic, the eel perfectly complimented by the smokey slithers of pancetta and cooling beetroot cubes – inspired cooking.

During an inter course of bresse chicken Champenoise, I seize the opportunity to ask Serena which she considers to be the best wines she's ever tasted, having undoubtedly had access to the best wines in the world. She takes a moment to reflect, then replies: "Domaine de la Romanée Conti 1921 and Cheval Blanc 1921". I linger over her liquid memories, knowing these two wines will always remain mythical to me. A confit of Brixham turbot follows, served with oxtail in a hazelnut butter. The hazelnut was woefully absent from the butter, and the oxtail savagely stole the turbot's thunder with its feral, meaty flavour.

Stepping up the flavour a notch further, the turbot is succeeded by Anjou pigeon stuffed with foie gras in a black truffle sauce. I suddenly feel like one of Henry VIII's harem at a Tudor banquet – all we need is a harpsichord and silver goblets filled with mead. Rich and hedonistic, it was wonderfully indulgent, but my mind kept wondering back to the enchanting opening duo of dishes. But what of the wine? I wasn't able to detect vast amounts of flavour nuance from the differing temperatures, but the Cuvée impressed. It showed structure, power and elegance, with a toasty approach, and a smooth, nutty finish.

The surprise of the day came in the form of an egg cup filled with liquid Beaufort cheese, served with a trio of Marmite-laced soldiers. The cheese was soft, warm, and comforting, and once the soldiers had marched down my oesophagus, I tilted my head back and took it like a shot. I rather like the idea of cheese shots – we should drink food and eat drinks more. There's something rather quaint about a Marmite Croque Monsiuer – the former so quintessentially British, and the latter so unmistakably French. It represents a coming together of French and English breakfasts: diplomacy on a plate.

Before leaving the pleasure dome of The Ritz behind, I'm treated to a Mille Feuille of caramelised pink lady apples with Champagne ginger sorbet, artfully presented alongside a swoosh of caramel. The invigorating ginger sorbet had a biscuit halo, while the delightfully named pink lady apples were small and perfectly round, with a sweet, toffee apple flavour that went wonderfully well with the Mumm demi-sec. After a quick mint tea and miniature macaroon, I'm ushered out of the William Kent room, and back out onto the busy London streets. Still light, it feels as if waking from a dream, but the name card in my pocket serves as proof that for one afternoon, I lunched like a prince.