Load Of Boules… Weird Night Out In Luttrelstown

August commenced with the annual Veuve Clicquot petanque tournament, a charity event popular among restaurateurs, particularly those with a French connection. For the uninitiated, petanque is the game more commonly called (by English-speaking tourists at least) ‘boules’ whereby steel spheres are launched at a small wooden jack, known to devotees of the game as le cochonet (piglet). Petanque derives its name from ‘pieds tanqué’ meaning ‘feet together’ although you wouldn’t think it from some of the curious and patently illegal stances adopted on the day.
Having suffered back twinges the week before I didn’t enter a F&W team this year. However, on the day I felt fit enough at least to spectate or maybe play if anyone was a chucker short of a team. In the event a chance encounter with Warrenpoint restaurateur, Sean Bennett led to the late entry of The Roaming Goats (and if Charles Back gets sight of a copy of this magazine we’re looking for team sponsorship at next years event – a couple of hundred euro to charity and a set of cool tracksuits will do nicely – oh, and a few botts of your fine Mourvèdre as I’ve supped the ones I brought back at Christmas).
I won’t dwell on the competition save to say we were beaten in stuffy fashion by Pearl Brasserie, the ultimate winners. Anyhow Sean proved a congenial and well-adrenalysed team player and I’ve pencilled him in for 2005. Between ends I must have been airing my theory that “all 1999 Bordeaux is pants” for, a few days later, what arrives but a bubble-wrapped bottle of 1999 Lynch Bages, courtesy of Sean with a messge saying “Try this!”. I have to say he was right, at least up to a point. It was fuller than most of the other ‘99s I’d sampled, with the tannins almost resolved. A decent weight of fruit and some complexity but still a touch green and stalky, I felt. John D Rockefeller, when asked how he made his fortune, said “By always selling short” – a philosophy wine collectors should aim to emulate. I have to say that if I had a cellar full of 1999 claret I’d be opening them three at a time.
Also in August I was invited to a banquet at Luttrellstown Castle, the pristine Castleknock stately home, venue for the nuptials of Posh and The Penalty King. On this occasion we were celebrating a reunion of the Greifelt family, hosted by Bob, CEO of NASDAQ, the principal New York stock exchange, and his wife Julia. Actually, it was more than a mere occasion, rather a week long succession of linked events involving all manner of medieval and Georgian fantasy and a gourmand’s worth of feasting, the whole masterminded by a larger-than-life character called Gregory Patrick who played Oberon to Bob and Julia’s Demetrius and Helena. Greg runs a company called ‘Tours of Enchantment’ majoring on making dreams come true for individuals blessed with both wealth and imagination.
Arriving at Luttrellstown, I was met by Julia, clad in a ball gown so elegant I initially took her for an asylum seeker from the Georgian night. She ushered me into the drawing room where a flunkey magicked my trademark cocktail, an amalgam of six parts Tanqueray’s gin, one part Noilly Prat, slice of lime, the whole sans ice but as cold as possible. At this point enter, stage left, the Queen of The Netherlands’ butler, no kidding, who proceeded forthwith to straighten my collar. Down in the castle kitchens a chef, flown in from Atlanta, GA, was crafting a six-course feast. I was left for a while to my own devices and for company resorted to twanging a guitar that lay on the sofa. Eventually another person entered the room. He shook my hand, saying “ Hi, I’m Rich” which, I’m afraid, caused me to crack up. I didn’t think he was skint.
It became clear that Trevor White of The Dubliner and I had been invited to pontificate on the food, something we both do rather well, though we say it ourselves. We took it in turn to play Good Cop/Bad Cop for the diversion of guests. The Three Tenors also entertained between courses.
“What’s all this got to do with wine?” I hear you say. Okay, here’s what we consumed: 2001 Chassagne-Montrachet 1er Cru ‘les caillerets’; 2001 Bâtard-Montrachet, Grand Cru, Dom JN Gagnard; 2001 St Joseph, Cuvée de Papy; 1997 Chateau Lafite-Rothschild. The ensemble was presented by Stuart Smith of Berry Brothers, the man with a theatrically sonorous voice, a baritone version of Hattie Jacques. Stuart also taught us how to pass the port in the traditional fashion, demonstrating with a Quinta Do Noval 40 year old Tawny – “expensive mouthwash” and with a 1963 vintage Warre bottled for Berry Brothers, rare as unicorn’s toenails and still gorgeous after all these years. Greg and the Greifelds certainly made a few of my dreams come true that night.
Finally, I know I’ve raved about Savennières Domaine de Closel Clos du Papillon before but I managed to locate a few bottles of the 1997 vintage at a supermarket in Co Monaghan en route to the wonderful Nuremore. The ‘97, a gold medal winner in Paris, was honeyed, elegant, complex, with nuts, nutmeg, cinnamon all sorts of Christmassy things going on as well as spring flowers on the nose. The finish was bone dry. A substantial mouthfeel, altogether brilliant wine making and refreshingly different and distinctive. I love this style, this wine. It cost e19.19 and was worth every damn cent.