Lutyens Wine Bar

With the carafe set to surge in popularity this year, in keeping with the casual dining and sharing plates trends currently sweeping the capital, I ventured out with my wine-obsessed flatmate one frosty night late last year to try a selection of wines by the glass at Lutyens’ newly relaunched wine bar. Owned by wine loving restaurateur and soft furnishings expert Sir Terence Conran, Lutyens is housed in the former Reuters building on Fleet Street, next to a church built by Sir Christopher Wren a tuppence’s throw from his magnificent St Paul’s Cathedral.

The often stuffy sphere of wine is being forced to keep up with our ever-changing, increasingly impatient times. Ordering a 75cl bottle of wine in a restaurant specialising in small plates seems old fashioned – anachronistic even. Londoners now expect their wine choices to be as varied and flexible as their food options. Enter Lutyens… Boasting over 40 wines by the glass – impressive even by London standards – each wine comes in five different measures: a 75ml or 125ml glass, a 250ml carafe, half bottle or bottle, encouraging experimentation and variety rather than having to commit to a whole bottle.

Ordered by grape variety and split into two key categories: “Young & Exciting” and “Fine & Rare”, the former gives charming and immaculately turned out French sommelier Romain Audrerie the opportunity to showcase expressive, fruit forward, young wines from emerging winemakers and up-and-coming regions that might not get a look-in on a conventional list. The latter meanwhile, is all about the great estates, and the chance to try high-end wines, from Chassagne-Montrachet to Barolo, without having to splash out on a bank-breaking bottle. Audrerie, formerly of the Hotel du Vin group, the Savoy Grill and Brasserie Roux, also offers thematic wine flights for curious imbibers, including one showcasing Old World icons and another rare European grape varieties, along with tutored tastings from 5.30-6.30pm daily.

But man cannot live on wine alone. Playing an important supporting role is a selection of dishes from young Swedish head chef, Henrik Ritzen, who has a penchant for smoking and pickling. Sharing menu space are the likes of charcuterie and cheese platters, oysters, tartines, and small plates such as venison carpaccio, steak tartare, grilled squid and cauliflower soup. Settling into a chocolate brown banquette, I order a glass of 2011 Louro Do Bolo Godello from Valdeorras rising star, Rafael Palacios, brother of Priorat pioneer Alvaro Palacios. Imported into the UK via Spanish wine trumpet blowers Indigo Wines, the subtly oaked wine was delightful in both flavour and texture, with notes of apple and peach wrapped around a mineral core given further complexity by the 70-year-old Godello vines from which it was made.

Romain Audrerie

Our second white, suggested by Audrerie, was a 2010 Pegasus Bay Riesling from New Zealand’s Waipara region in north Canterbury; a heady cocktail of petrol, squeezed lime, pineapple, lemon balm and herbal hints that hid the 14.5% alcohol deviously, and paired well with a Stichelton, pear and walnut salad. 

Moving on to the meat of the matter, we devoured a charcuterie sharing board loaded with earthy venison and pistachio terrine, creamy duck rillettes, salty ham hock and saucisson, washed down with a glass of 2010 Graci Nerello Mascalese from Etna, bright with notes of sour cherry and peonies. For the main event – a rich, comforting dish of crab gnocchi served in an orange Le Creuset dish, Audrerie served us an off-the-menu modern style Barolo redolent with cherries, garriguey herbs and black truffle.

Keeping us sweet, our feast ended with an indulgent spiced apple tart with caramel ice cream, the warm, textured tart contrasting pleasingly with the sweet, cold caramel. Our final wine, 2007 Bentomiz Moscatel de Alejandria from Malaga, charmed with notes of Turkish delight, nectarine and white flowers, offering a sweet, floral and refreshing mouthful. For the urban wine lover, Lutyens’ shiny new wine bar is a must, offering simple, flavour-rich food, enthusiastic and informative service, and an ever-changing by-the-glass selection. Be sure to rock up early though to secure a table, as it’s forever full. 

Sir Terence Conran: My Passion for Wine

Wine and the City spends an afternoon with the indefatigable author, designer and restaurateur behind the Habitat furniture chain and London restaurants Bluebird and Boundary, to chat about drinking Cahors with Nancy Cunard in the '50s, smoking Cuban cigars with David Hockney, and a road trip to Burgundy in Bill Baker's Land Rover.

When did your interest in wine begin?

I got into wine while working as a designer for John Harvey & Sons in Bristol – a breeding ground for some of the most influential people in the wine trade: Michael Broadbent, Harry Waugh – you name it. It was the most wonderful induction to the world of fine wine.

How did you develop your newfound passion?

I started drinking quality wine and began to understand the differences between vintages, châteaux and regions. I decided red and white Burgundy were my passions – they have an indefinable decadence about them. I was born in 1931, which was a terrible year for Bordeaux. As a result I’ve been given some disastrous presents. Michael Broadbent gave me a bottle of 1931 Haut-Brion, which was undrinkable vinegar. Luckily, it was a good year for Port.

Are you a Bordeaux or a Burgundy man?

As I get older, I understand the subtlety of wine more. I find Burgundy more French than Bordeaux. Bordeaux has been Americanised and is very concerned with money. Burgundy is more intellectual than Bordeaux. Old Burgundy has such fantastic, complex flavours. I’ve got two cellars under my house in Berkshire, one for white wine and one for red. They’re the perfect temperature and humidity for both wine and cigars.

I’ve heard you’re partial to the odd cigar…

Cigars are another passion – I smoke three Hoyo de Monterrey Epicure No2s a day. I often drink Chilean wine as I find it robust, full of flavour and well priced. I object to paying £500 for a bottle of wine. Being a war child I am still obsessed with value for money. I’ve tried Pétrus on very few occasions. It’s a beautiful wine, but I can’t drink it in a relaxed way.

Who do you like to share your prized bottles with?

My dear friend Bill Baker, who died three years ago, was the best person to drink wine with. I shared a huge number of bottles with him over the years, and bought most of my wine from him at Reid Wines – he was incredibly knowledgeable. He would drive me around Burgundy in his huge Land Rover, loading case after case at every vineyard we stopped off at. When I went on Eurostar with him, he’d bring a big basket full of wine, which we’d crack open during the journey.

Do you see wine as an investment or something to enjoy?

Both. I’m not an investor in wine, but I like the idea of it. If you’re going to invest in anything, then wine and art are the best things to spend your money on because you can enjoy your investment. I collect a lot of art. I buy my contemporaries – Hodgkin and Hockney. Hockney is a big wine lover – I’ve drunk vast quantities of wine and smoked many cigars with him. On a trip to Southern France in the early ’50s I went to stay in a converted barn belonging to English socialite and heiress Nancy Cunard (pictured), who counted Aldous Huxley and TS Eliot among her lovers. We drank Cahors late into the night until our teeth went black.

Article originally published in Decanter magazine

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.