Okay, I’m sure everyone has a little Beaujolais nouveau in his or her past. I recall some of the snobby hoopla of the 90s, although the only time I succumbed was at a pub outside Newport, Gwent., about ten years ago.
Now, THERE was a pub. Huge fireplace that had probably been in operation for about two centuries. Frequented by locals. Nothing pre-fab about it. On the nights I had to stay over at Newport, I’d haul out past a couple of other pubs, because I knew that I’d get good cooking—not that ghastly crap that most pubs serve (let me just say that anything involving a microwave is not going to be good to eat in a pub setting)—relaxed atmosphere & a decent glass of wine or pint of bitter.
The first time I went there (I wish I could recall the name) happened to be Beaujolais nouveau week or night. The staff were dressed like they just came from Pigalle, & the menu revolved around the wine. Without doubt one of my best meals in more than three years in Britain.
But I digress.
The third Thursday of November has come & gone, & the Journal’s wine team have pronounced this year’s offerings drinkable or better.
I’m sure you’ll be relieved to learn that the banana, anchovy & metal tones are down this time round. As for the greed—well, perhaps the global economy has been a splash of cold reality for the wine industry. (I wish the same would happen to champagnes.)
At any rate—I pass this on as a public service. Anything to brighten up your winter & provide respite from the seasonal madness.
Santé.
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