shewhomust (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shewhomust) wrote2019-05-19 12:31 pm
shewhomust) wrote2019-05-19 12:31 pm
Along came Jones
We have in the past attended tastings organised by the Wine Society, but not recently. This is a self-perpetuating state of affairs, because the Wine Society tries to tailor its mailings to your interests, which means that if you fail to respond too many times, you fall off the circulation list, and may not realise that offers are still being made, but not to you. So it was just luck that I was pottering around the Society's website, muttering about how the tastings within reach were never the interesting ones, when I came across a dinner in Newcastle, tasting the wines of Domaine Jones in the company of the winemaker, Katie Jones herself. We had already sampled these wines: we had been tempted by a mixed half-dozen which the Wine Society had called 'Katie Jones' Locker', and indulged ourselves in a Christmas treat - in fact, we drank one of them with our Christmas dinner. It was short notice, but we could do it; it would be fun to revisit the wines, it's always interesting to hear the winemaker's side of the story, we'd never managed more than a cup of coffee at Blackfriars, and that was long ago. life owed us a treat for an anniversary which we weren't going to be able to celebrate on the day... What's more, we wouldn't have to rush away to catch the last train back to Durham: our winnings from the quiz at February's Crime Festival included an overnight stay at a Newcastle city centre hotel, an anonymous business-type slabe of glass, but close to where we wanted to be.
Tuesday morning was blood samples and dental check-ups (routine, but not fun) and Tuesday afternoon was work, so it felt particularly like getting away to be heading for the station in the late afternoon sunshine. The hotel was even better situated than we had expected: we emerged from the metro under the skirts of St James Park and there it was, looming above us - and when we were ready to set out, it was just through the Chinatown arch and along Stowell Street to Blackfriars. Arriving at the restaurant was the only point I thought was mishandled: we and other guests were left to mill about until we could find restaurant staff to direct us, and then we were sent into a bar and invited to buy additional drinks, an invitation which most of us declined. We didn't have long to wait until someone came and fetched us, and we all trouped round to the banqueting room, where we were greeted with glasses of fizz (Crémant de Limoux, and apparently from a magnum, though since it was ready poured I wouldn't have known). We were invited to seat ourselves at the two long tables, and whendurham_rambler played the deafness card, we were sent to the head of the table next to the speaker. Since she moved to somewhere more central to speak while she was showing her slides, it wasn't entirely justified, but it gave us a chance to chat over dinner, which was fun.
Dinner was:
What can I say about the food? Each individual thing was good - the mussels and the lamb were both delicious - but the menu felt unbalanced: all that protein and the only vegetables were potatoes? Seriously? People snapped up the grapes accompanying the cheese board, which are usually spurned as mere decoration.
If I had finished writing this - as I so nearly did - yesterday, I would have stopped there. Instead we dashed out to watch Eurovision with friends who, knowing of this dinner, served us Me & Monsieur Jones, which they had bought through Naked Wines: a blend of grenache, macabeo and just a touch of muscat, pleasant enough but slightly dull. Which was my overall reaction to the trial case of Naked Wines I once ordered: great story, pity about the wines - and certainly Katie Jones tells a great story (And sells an entirely different - and cheaper - range of wines through Naked Wines to those the Wine Society offer).
No fantastic discoveries, then, but all in all a very happy evening. And when we left Blackfriars, we discovered that short though the walk from our hotel had been, there was an even shorter way back: we just followed the city wall and it took us to the road crossing.
Tuesday morning was blood samples and dental check-ups (routine, but not fun) and Tuesday afternoon was work, so it felt particularly like getting away to be heading for the station in the late afternoon sunshine. The hotel was even better situated than we had expected: we emerged from the metro under the skirts of St James Park and there it was, looming above us - and when we were ready to set out, it was just through the Chinatown arch and along Stowell Street to Blackfriars. Arriving at the restaurant was the only point I thought was mishandled: we and other guests were left to mill about until we could find restaurant staff to direct us, and then we were sent into a bar and invited to buy additional drinks, an invitation which most of us declined. We didn't have long to wait until someone came and fetched us, and we all trouped round to the banqueting room, where we were greeted with glasses of fizz (Crémant de Limoux, and apparently from a magnum, though since it was ready poured I wouldn't have known). We were invited to seat ourselves at the two long tables, and when
durham_rambler played the deafness card, we were sent to the head of the table next to the speaker. Since she moved to somewhere more central to speak while she was showing her slides, it wasn't entirely justified, but it gave us a chance to chat over dinner, which was fun. Dinner was:
- Steamed Shetland mussels
- accompanied by carignan gris Les Perles 2017 and macabeu Les Perles de Jones 2015. These two glasses of white wine were poured and waiting for us when we arrived, but they didn't, as I had feared, suffer from not being chilled: when they were topped up from a bottle which was chilled, the wine was not improved by it. In principle I know not to overchill my white wine, but clearly it goes beyond that. The carignan gris was heavy. savoury, smoky: it stood up well to the creamy garlic sauce. The macabeu was lighter and fresher, and a bit overpowered: I'd have enjoyed it more on its own as an aperitif.
- Duck liver parfait
- served with grenache Coˆtes Catalanes, about which I remember only that I enjoyed it but found it less distinctive: it reminded me of grenache from the Rhône (which is not a criticism). I may have been a bit distracted by the pickled leeks served with the duck, which were green and stringy, difficult to chew, and I don't think I would have spotted either that they were leeks or that they were pickled had the menu not told me so. I tried the last of the carignan with this course, and it really didn't work: it had the weight but not the sweetness.
- Lamb, cooked two ways, with new potatoes
- Two very contrasting reds: the Fitou which we had enjoyed with our Christmas roast, dense, chewy and meaty, and a syrah Les Perles Rares which was expansive and strongly perfumed. Usually I can't smell anything after the first couple of glasses, but I had no trouble with this one.
- Cheese
- and a bit of an anti-climax: Along Came Jones Sleeping Beauty grenache gris 2013. The domaine first made this when they lost two tanks of wine through vandalism, and turned in despair to a surviving barrel which had been half-forgotten in a corner for several years, only to discover that the process had turned it into something rather special. Dry, saline, almost sherry-like, if you liked it at all you liked it a lot - but I didn't. Luckily the earlier wines were still flowing freely, and I secured some more of the carignan, which was a good choice, particularly alongside the goat's cheese.
What can I say about the food? Each individual thing was good - the mussels and the lamb were both delicious - but the menu felt unbalanced: all that protein and the only vegetables were potatoes? Seriously? People snapped up the grapes accompanying the cheese board, which are usually spurned as mere decoration.
If I had finished writing this - as I so nearly did - yesterday, I would have stopped there. Instead we dashed out to watch Eurovision with friends who, knowing of this dinner, served us Me & Monsieur Jones, which they had bought through Naked Wines: a blend of grenache, macabeo and just a touch of muscat, pleasant enough but slightly dull. Which was my overall reaction to the trial case of Naked Wines I once ordered: great story, pity about the wines - and certainly Katie Jones tells a great story (And sells an entirely different - and cheaper - range of wines through Naked Wines to those the Wine Society offer).
No fantastic discoveries, then, but all in all a very happy evening. And when we left Blackfriars, we discovered that short though the walk from our hotel had been, there was an even shorter way back: we just followed the city wall and it took us to the road crossing.