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

New in town: Basil's Beach Bar, Galoupet, VOC

Perched on stilts over ice blue Caribbean shallows and overseen by the infectiously charming Basil Charles, Basil’s Beach bar in Mustique – island of choice for royals and reprobates, alongside Harry’s Bar in Venice, is arguably one of the most famous bars in the world. On inviting Basil’s legendary founder to London, Goring Hotel head honcho Jeremy Goring got his hammer out and built Basil a beach bar in the hotel’s garden to honour the visit.

The dinky shack comes complete with golden sand, fishing boats, a palm-thatched roof, polished driftwood counter and an abundance of cocktails, including the signature Mustique Mule, the Hurricane David and Basil’s Rum Punch. Built by Blue Forest, who specialise in luxurious tree houses, the Basil’s-inspired interior has quirky touches of its own courtesy of The Goring’s interior designer, Russell Sage.

Having weathered many an unseasonal storm, Basil’s Bar has sadly popped down for what remains of the summer. But fear not – head barman Brian is still serving up many a Mustique Mule in the main bar, which can be enjoyed in a plethora of pods dotted around the garden.

After a long wait, Galoupet has finally opened its pristine white doors in Knightsbridge’s über cool Beauchamp Place. Set over two storeys of a handsome Georgian terrace, wishbone chairs by Danish designer Hans J Wegner grace the swan white space, where angled mirrors perch poised for customer preening. The sleek new venture from the owners of Château du Galoupet in Côtes de Provence is the first venue in London to trial The Flute – an Enomatic machine designed specifically for Champagne. The restaurant-cum-wine shop offers an impressive 36 wines by the glass, which change frequently according to the menu.

“We chose to take on The Flute because it fits with what we’re all about – seasonal produce, and fresh, clean, ingredients,” Shaan Mahrotri, Galoupet’s operations director tells me over a glass of pink fizz, his brown eyes glinting through neon orange specs. “Most places offer average Champagne by the glass – the Flûte gives us more scope. People are adventurous now, and they want to try new things, especially in London. Ten days preservation gives us the chance to experiment.”

Mahroti plans to offer more than just Champagne on the Flûte. “We’ll have a well-known vintage Champagne, our own Château du Galoupet sparkler, a quaffable non-vintage like Ayala, and perhaps a Prosecco. We’ll pull things in and out and see what works,” he says. “Others will follow suit. I’ve heard that most people who have taken on Enomatics will be taking the Flûte too – we just got there first.”

On my visit, the much-hyped Flute had yet to be delivered from Italy, so I didn’t get to sample its liquid pleasure by the measure, but Mahroti plans to send out tweets to all his followers when he puts a special bottle on, so it sells itself. “It’s a good way to create a buzz,” he says, excitedly. Food meanwhile, draws on Mediterranean and Asian influences, with Chris Golding of Zuma, Nobu Berkeley and The Square fame behind the chopping board.

A quirky addition to London’s already throbbing bar scene is VOC in King’s Cross, a stone’s throw away from adorable Sherry bar Pepito in Varnishers Yard. Billed as London’s first 17th century cocktail bar, VOC is the brainchild of Fluid Movement – the mixologists behind Marylebone’s Purl and the Whistling Shop in Shoreditch. Taking its name from the Dutch East India Company (Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie) – the world’s first multinational corporation capitalising on Asian trade goods in the 17th century, VOC specialises in house-blended spiced rum and bespoke, barrel-aged cocktails matured in wax-sealed apothecary bottles, each individually labelled with the date of creation and priced accordingly.

Decked out like Phileas Fogg's drawing room, complete with swashbuckling Moorish busts, telescopes and humidors, shelves are stacked with Dutch genevers, arracks, bourbons and rums from the Americas. The exposed brickwork walls are adorned with apothecary bottles and barrels suspended precariously from the ceiling. At night, flickering light from giant church candles casts atmospheric shadows. In the seventeenth century, punches were one of the earliest examples of a mixed drink, and were traditionally made with five ingredients including a spirit – either Dutch gin or arrack made with coconut palm.

VOC’s punches run a gamut of styles. The Dog's Nose unites Tanqueray Rangpur with fresh horseradish, Meantime porter, fresh citrus, spices and honey. For a theatrical serve, try one of the flips, which are warmed with an old poker heated by a flame on the bar. Outside, a covered courtyard offers an al fresco space to indulge in the bar’s cigar selection, which has been dutifully matched to the cocktail list. Dust off your hiking boots, locate your walking stick and make the pilgrimage to VOC – the Zoltar-like bust in the entrance merits the exploration alone.

Dukes Cognac & Cigar Garden

What does one wear to a Cognac and cigar garden launch in the height of summer? I opted for a purple velvet smoking jacket.

Purple velvet may seem like an odd sartorial choice for a June evening, but the weather is unseasonably awful at the moment. Looking out of my office window at lunchtime onto grey skies and grizzly rain, mother nature threatened to put a dampener on the evening's fun and frolics.

I invited my Finnish friend William along, who, having handed in his Cambridge masters dissertation the night before, was in a celebratory mood. Arriving a little late for our rendezvous in the courtyard, I saw William had dressed for the occasion too, in a Bond-like white tux jacket, navy cravat and dandyish velvet slippers. At 6 foot 8 he barely fitted through the door, but cut a rakish figure through the hotel, once frequented by the likes of Lord Byron, Oscar Wilde and Ian Fleming.

The rain having subsided, we make our way out into the canopied courtyard filled with cosy sofas and lanterns, and are presented with a pair of pink Champagne and Cognac cocktails. The courtyard soon fills up, and I get talking to the lady on my left, who is trying to decide whether or not to go to the Orange Prize after our soirée. The night before she was at the Royal Academy summer party - 'I scooped a pair of Tracy Emin sketches for £200', she beams.

Dukes' legendary barman Alessandro Palazzi emerges with a couple of Cohibas, which he sparks up for us. William is something of a cigar aficionado, and attempts to teach me the art of successful smoking. My Cohiba isn't playing ball, and keeps going out. Alessandro appears again, this time with two balloon glasses of Martel XO.

I'm not a huge Cognac fan, but the XO is seriously smooth and easy to drink, with a soft, sweet, velvety palate. It goes wonderfully well with the creamy Cohiba, the two seeming to bring out the best in each other. The evening fleeted by as the best always do, and soon it was time for William to take his train back to Cambridge. Walking back to Green Park, he admitted to me rather sheepishly that he'd spent £70 on socks that day, in preparation for a month of balls and banquets. A modern day dandy indeed – Beau Brummel would have been proud.

Chivas Regal at Boisdale

I love a good cigar every now and then, there's something celebratory about them, like Champagne – something decadent and slightly mischievous.

I was lucky enough to be able to indulge in such Churchillian pursuits on Tuesday night, at the gallantly titled 'Chivas 7 Cs of Chivalry' dinner at Boisdale in Belgravia, a paean to tartan run by cigar afficionado Ranald Macdonald.

Only last week had I donned my kilt for the Monkey Shoulder Burns night celebrations, but felt duty bound to whip it on again, along with a purple velvet smoking jacket, natch. Greeted with Perrier Jouet Belle Epoque-tails on arrival, I get talking over canapés to a seasoned freelance journalist called Judy about her stint as a sex book writer. 'It's like anything in life', she informs me, 'if you do your research, you'll be fine'. At which point we are swiftly seated.

The dinner, hosted by Chivas Ambassador Phil Huckle, promised to explore the four pillars of chivalry: gallantry, brotherhood, honour and valour. I am seated next to William from The Express, who used to write quizzes for Cosmopolitan. There's a theme emerging here... To my right is Dominic Midgley, of London Paper fame. I ask him how his book on Russian oligarchs is going. 'Very well, but my agent wants another 10,000 words before he starts going to publishers. He keeps dangling the carrot and making me write more'.

We are stopped mid conversation by a floral-shirted Ranald, who taps a spoon against his Champagne glass and summons Phil Huckle, who makes an impassioned speech about the merits of chivalry, and how woman are still won over by chivalrous acts – he's right, I certainly suffer from White Knight syndrome. Everything we eat and drink begins with the letter C: Champagne, Chivas, canapés, caviar, charcuterie – a curious concept.

An exquisite chocolate three ways desert with 'honour' etched onto the side of the plate does the rounds, along with Chivas 18-year-old, which I water down when no one is looking. We then retire to the roof terrace for cigars. Cocooning myself in a tartan blanket, I see Ranald lighting up, and he encourages me to do the same. Tonight we're on the Romeo y Julietas. Apparently cigars got their literary names after the beloved books that were read out to the factory workers while they rolled.

The cigar is seriously huge; easily the biggest I've ever smoked. I puff away on it with brio and manage to make short work of it. I smoke it so fast, that Mr Chivas declares it's the most impressive cigar action he's ever witnessed. Perhaps I'm a natural, which is rather worrying. Mid cigar, I get to try Chivas Regal 25-year-old, a mere year younger than me. At £200 a bottle, it's not cheap, but even I, whisky neophyte that I am, can appreciate its complexity. No sooner had I pondered its peachy almond depths, than we were kicked off the roof for making too much noise. How unchivalrous!

Tasting notes

Château de Ricaud, Bordeaux 2005

A lively nose of ripe cherries, black berries and forest fruits. Heady and elegant, the palate was silky, smooth and rounded, with luxurious spices, black pepper, and a long licorice finish.

Chivas 18-year-old

A secondary fruit nose of candid peel, sultanas and Old Spice aftershave. Fresh, citrusy and clean on the palate, I found caramel, honey and fruitcake mixing into a long nutty finish.

Chivas Regal 25-year-old

A complex nose of peach, orange peel, cloves, cinnamon and woody spices from the oak. The palate was smooth, almost creamy, with toffee, caramel and almonds in the mix. Elegant, clean and beautifully balanced, it had a long rewarding finish.