To boldly go...

[shewhomust]

Two excursions this week, neither requiring any great degree of intrepidity, but each, in its way, feeling like an adventure.

On Tuesday we went to Newcastle for a Wine Society tasting. We don't do this often, but this one was particularly tempting, wines of the Languedoc Roussillon with representatives of the growers in attendance, and held at the Station Hotel, which made the journey as straightforward as it could be. I agreed that I could manage the walk up to the station on the way out, and durham_rambler agreed not to fuss about getting a taxi home from the station, and this worked pretty well. I coped with the walk and was no slower than I had anticipated (which was, admittedly, pretty slow) and with the amount of standing required throughout the evening (there were some chairs, but it was pretty crowded) and although there were no taxis to be had at the station, we managed to hail one before we reached the foot of Station Bank. And the wines were worth the effort.

The Languedoc Roussillon, apparently, extends across the south of France from Carcassonne and Limoux in the west to the Costières de Nîmes in the east - which places it neatly between our two favourite regions, the Rhône and the true south-wast of France. We tried to be methodical, to start with the whites and to prioritise wines that looked particularly tempting, and were partly successful: referring now to the booklet, in which durham_rambler dutifully scribbled notes, we seem to have entirely missed only one table (and it's a pity, since faugères is an entirely unknown quantity to me, but still...). Continuing to refer to the booklet:

• I was glad of the opportunity to taste the Mas de Daumas Gassac, since it's famous and since it's too expensive for me ever to be likely to buy. The white was pleasant, but I didn't find it memorable; I could see the appeal of the 2020 red, which brought together the structure of claret and the richer fruit of the Languedoc; in the older vintages this softened (and became less to my taste); the were also showing a vin de liqueur, which made both me and durham_rambler spontaneiously regret that the minervois at the tasting did not include any muscat. The best thing about the Mas de Daumas Gassac was their winemaker, who was charmong, and happy to explain that to make their wines he blended 24 grape varieties from seven different plots ...



• The minervois they did have was the Château Sainte-Eulalie, whose entry-level wine we have bought in the past and enjoyed. This gave us a chance to taste it against their premium wine, and establish that once again, I prefer the basic model.



• Since last year's plunge into corbières, I had hopes of the Society's version, which is produced by Château Ollieux Romanis (pretty but uninformative video). Their classic corbières (three versions, including the Society's own label) were fine, but they also played a wild card, their Bin #015 Cinsault, the standout wine of the evening, light and fresh, a mouthduk of summer fruits.



• The viognier from Pennautier, near Carcassonne, was declared "the nicest white we've had so far," and although it was subsequently outclassed (by something not quite twice its price), this is the one we have ordered. The most memorable of their reds was the cabardès, very mellow but with a finish that made me think of blue cheese.



• We did once dine with Katie Jones, and had a very pleasant evening, so we stopped by the Domaine Jones table to say hello. On this occasion, I thought the star of her show - the white which upstaged that viognier - was her grenache gris, a very dry, herby white. Of the reds, I preferred the standard grenache to the fitou - but I see that on previous occasions, and particularly drinking the fitou with food, I have enjoyed it very much. I am not a reliable taster.



• I was running out of steam by now, and we didn't do justice to the Domaine de la Rectorie: we tasted their tip od the range red, just to show willing, and pronounced it bery nice, but what really interested me was their banyuls - famously, the wine that goes with chocolate. This one was excellent and, to my surprise, tasted of grapes. We have ordered a couple of (50cl) bottles.

Not included in the tasting, but a bottle pulled from the rack later in the week, was the Saint-Maurice Côtes-du-Rhône Villages, Guillaume de Rouville, Domaine de Florane 2018. I think it must have arrived as part of a mixed case, but maybe if I make a note of it here, I'll be able to look out for it when we order next year's Rhône. Maybe.

The second excursion was around Durham, to entertain visitors: it is they, not we, who were intrepid, having taken the train from York into the blizzard:

Ever since our lunch together in York, J & J have been plotting a visit to Durham. The first time they booked their tickets, the East Coast Main Line was closed by a landslip; the second time, J developed a cold. This third time, whatever doubts we may have had, no-one was prepared to be the one to cancel. And we got away with it, and had a lovely time, so that was the right decision.

And that holds true, despite Durham doing its best to thwart us at every turn, quite apart from the weather. When we planned the visit, J. had said that, in addition to just hanging out together, what she wanted to do was to visit the cathedral; remembering her interest in ceramics, I had suggested also visiting the Oriental Museum, and that was given an enthusiastic yes. It turned out that much of the cathedral was closed for a special children's service; and one floor of the museum was closed for renovation (the bottom floor, naturally, where they keep the main collection of ceramics). Ww lingered in the Galilee Chapel, we skirted the west end of the nave (all we were allowed of the interior) we circled the cloisters. Then we lunched in the undercroft, which is a very ordinary café in quite splendid surroundings, and for once not so busy that we couldn't chat at leisure over our siup and sandwiches.

By now it had stopped snowing. We left through the College, and relocated to the museum. We had the place to ourselves, and wandered around admiring things, until we were worn out, and then we made ourselves tea from the machine, and sat around talking some more: about what we had seen, what we hadn't seen, things we had done in the past and things we would do in the future - some of them in the very near future.

So all in all, despite the day not having gone at all according to plan, I'd call it a success.