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A day of indulgence with Woodford Reserve


Milestones are an extremely vague construct. Most are written in the stone, bullet-pointing various ‘key’ events in one’s life that not only should be worthy of note, but consumed ad surpassed with a heavy sigh of relief. First lover, first beer, first mugging, first pay cheque, these are the common ones that are taken down as events of ultimate inevitability, but applauded or sympathised all the same. But the interesting ones are the personal ones.

Yes, it may be abstract, and I agree I hadn’t marked or pre-empted this specific passage, but to enjoy a bourbon whiskey, in an armchair in the lounge of Claridges Hotel in Mayfair, donning a corduroy blazer and an expertly-mastered hair cut perfected by The Refinery grooming salon across the road is far too mind-expanding an experience to not specify as a moment when you realise you have now entered a man’s world.

Usually, when I am strolling through social surroundings in a pub/restaurant/any area where people are, I do feel that I look like a twat when I drink whiskey. When I was invited by the guys from Kentucky-bred bourbon Woodford Reserve, I was initially filled with concern. Amongst the modern lip-smacking lust for anything ‘Mad Men’-esque, for me to take a tumbler and converse would be the equivalent of Joanna Lumley downing a WKD, or Andrew Lloyd Webber snacking through a packet of Pork Scratchings.

But for such a tantalising beverage, barriers were entitled to be broken, and what style this was done. I was welcomed through the doors of The Refinery at 3pm sharp, as I was handed my first dose of Woodford Reserve, gifted to me as I strolled up the steps and welcomed by my stylist who would be ‘fixing my do’. I don’t think there is a better way to spend a Thursday afternoon than sitting back in the best salon in London, consuming the rich caramel and vanilla flavours of WF, but if there was, I would take a bottle of THAT bourbon with me.

So, as I left my stylist with a shaken hand, and a promise of a night out in Central London(real camaraderie with the lads there) we sprinted under the excreting rain clouds to Claridges, where the marble floor lead the way through to the gate-door elevator, in which we were chaperoned to the sixth floor. Alongside some of the most influential opinion makers in Alcohol and Journalism, I enjoyed an American style buffet, the company of Whiskey connoisseurs, cocktails from recipe books almost 200 years-old and, to my regret, and awfully intense hang-over.

So with my day open to you, I would expect that through my description of lavish treats and favours gifted to promote the beverage, I suspect you are bracing yourself (like I was) for an extremely pricey tipple. You couldn’t be more misinformed, as a bottle of Woodford Reserve can be picked up from any respectable supermarket for just over £25.

So even though I can’t promise that a purchase will install the same sort of ground-breaking euphoria that was brought to myself, but it’s a classic tipple with history embedded in every sip.

www.woodfordreserve.com

Any sartorial male worth his salt – and his suit! – should know a lot about wine… right?

Well it has been a man fantasy of mine at least.

Standing there once at a charity do, I was rocking the KG shoes and suave attire but at the bar I was lost like a little kid. Enophiles left and right were stunning the on-looking femmes, who were throwing sexy eyes at any mention of a crisp Sauv Blanc or robust Spanish Rioja.

I like to think I know my beers, bourbons and vodkas because (unfortunately) a not-so-long-ago stint at Uni has left me a specialist of nothing more than heart-attack-inducing Vodbulls and chunder-imminent lager-bourbon chasers…

Wine… Is that our seminar tutor tomorrow?

OK so maybe I’m not that uncultured – I do know a little about wine.

My six-year stint as an Italian sous-chef had me tasting any reds and whites that dripped, dropped and glugged into a pan (for fuel, not for taste!) and our resident sommelier had departed a few words of wisdom, but I just couldn’t get it to stick or sound expert enough…

To blag it as a graduate high-flyer, you’ve got to know your plonk you plonker!

So What I need is a cheat-sheet – a dummies-guide du vin – a blagger’s book of phrases.

Fortunately, wine specialist Brancott Estate was willing enough to take me through it all. Brancott has just launched a premium bespoke accessories collection perfect for budding wine connoisseurs. The 100% sterling silver range, which includes of a pair of classy chic men’s cufflinks, have been designed to reflect the natural beauty of New Zealand’s landscape and celebrate the pioneering spirit of Brancott Estate, the creators of the original Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc wine.

But with those cufflinks, you’re going to need some knowledge so they talked me through some basics…

Temperature:

“Did you know that you can serve white wine over chilled?” they told me. “A wine served too cold can lose a lot of its character, particularly with respect to aroma. White wines are best served at around 8ºC so an hour in the fridge door will be plenty! The old myth that reds should be served at room temperature isn’t entirely correct; reds are at their most expressive and best served at around 15ºC.”

Before Dinner:

When serving wine before dinner, I am told to “start with something light and fresh. It shouldn’t be too serious or overpowering as your aim is to enliven their palates not overwhelm them! You want a drink you can sip easily whilst catching up. For a white wine I would recommend a fruity Sauvignon Blanc and for a red a subtle Pinot Noir.”

Steak:

As blokes we love a bit of the red meat. But “if your having the lads around for a steak evening how about swapping beer for a serious red wine which will stand up to and compliment the meat. It’s true to say that a glass of Malbec with a good steak, prepared simply, with nothing more than salt as a seasoning, is one of the world’s great food and wine matches.”

Celebrating:

“When it comes to celebrating anything with bubbles should be served in long-stemmed flute or tulip shaped glass. These are designed to enhance the flow of bubbles and to concentrate the aromas of the wine. If you want to take it one step further a crystal flute is best as the rougher glass causes the Champagne to bubble and fizz more. Not only do the extra bubbles look great they release more of the Champagne’s flavours.”

Recommendations:

The folks at Brancott Estate were kind enough to let me loose on some of their own specialty wines. With wine in mind, I set about applying my skills to some tasting and dinner-matching…

A Brancott Estate Sauvignon Blanc 2010 from New Zealand (still a baby in the wine business) was crisp, sharp but punchy. I would recommend sipping a glass before a meal where citrus, grapefruit and tropical fruits play lightly on the palette. Nothing too overwhelming save for the smell, which doesn’t offend. At £8.99 a bottle, it’s a delightful and delectable little starter wine.

The Jacob’s Creek Regional Reserve Barossa Shiraz 2007 was definitely a main-course wine. From Australia – a king of the vineyard industry – there were essences of plum in this full-bodied and powerful spicy number. Would work with braised lamb shank or a seared red-eye steak.

See www.brancottestate.com to find out more.

Taking into account that many of you may have made the unadvised call of a Sunday night/Monday morning booze up watching (and some of you pretending to understand) the Superbowl, we decided not cater for you soldiers who didn’t take Monday night to recharge your batteries.

But now normal pub-service resumes, so do we, with some vital affairs which you may have missed as you bury your head in your pile of work, ignorant to everything that isn’t placed on the face of your keyboard (no….just me then.)

Story 1 – Sky wedding 3D proposal rejected

I know, we are just as surprised as you are that such a sensible and easily-applicable idea wasn’t welcomed in by the Royal Family, but the palace have said no. Since Sky launched Sky 3d in October, we have been treated to novelty trips to the pub as we wear the glasses that ensure that we duck everytime the ball is hit with velocity, but Sky will have to wait a while until a major royal event is broadcast through this medium.

Patrick Harrison, the press secretary for the couple, told the media “There are a number of reasons for this, most notably the additional camera footprint in the abbey, the relatively small (albeit growing) audience for 3D, and our desire to not be distracted away from negotiating and facilitating the optimal 2D, radio, photographic and online coverage of the day.”

To be honest, I don’t really see any of the benefits of this move anyway, other than witnessing the sad faces of every woman in the UK getting a ridiculously expensive wedding ring shoved in their faces, with their boyfriends looking on in terror. I can just see the tears.

Story 2 – Keys and Gray return to broadcasting

Well they are back, and to be honest, they couldn’t be going to a more fitting broadcaster. When Richard Keys and Andy Gray had bantered through their derogotary dialects off-air about the inclusion of a female linesman in a premier league game, the world gasped and cursed. Apart from anyone who has ever listened to, or been involved with, Talksport, a station that can be described, at best, as a medium that isn’t afraid to be ignorant. (Click Here for just one example)

The two will be presenting an afternoon weekday 3-hour show, where they will discuss whatever they like I suppose, considering how excited the show is to have them at the mic. “I think it’s a sensational coup for TalkSport and great for radio. These men have carved out amazing careers in television and were at the forefront of the Sky revolution. I think they are going to have a massive impact on the radio scene,” said TalkSport programme director Moz Tee

Well, at least they have a home now, and aren’t on the streets cutting out square holes in cardboard boxes and prettending they were still on air, whilst making lude word-associated sexist remarks whenever they see a cat crawl out of a nearby dustbin (the ‘P’ word…Come on people, raise your game.)

Story 3 – Niklas Bendtner worth every penny

To quote the Guardian’s Barry Glendenning, who was describing Niklas Bendtner, “If he was half as good as he thinks he is, he’d be twice as good as he is.” It is no secret that the Arsenal striker is no short of confidence, and it is this sometimes arrogant attitude that has made him very much the Marmite player for Arsenal, but his comments of being worth every penny of the £50,000 per week that his club pays him are pretty ridiculous.

This is bound to annoy pretty much any working person in the world to be honest, as Bendtner expresses his own distress about the ‘great sacrifices’ that the professional footballer makes, and the heart-breaking fact that he ‘doesn’t know how to ski’ because he spent so much time on his career.

I will not go any further, but before you hit the ale house tonight, make sure you have a look at this. A harrowing account on the Danish international’s horrfiying struggle. Click Here for the article

Usually when a three-way collaboration is mentioned, the magic sparked within the coallition would be spurned from three individuals from pretty much the same area. The Begee’s, the FC Barcelona midfield and The Musketeers to name just a few groups of this nature.

Although slightly different, all individuals are born with the same motives, and bring their enhanced ideas and skills to the table in a quest for brilliance. But this certain joining of arms is slightly different.

Young Turks is a project that welcomes, and indeed binds, the most acclaimed proprieters of London Art, fine wine and gourmet food in a completely unmissable, unflappable and unrivalled showcase of visionary and consumption class.

Ben Greeno from Tudor Road, Elliot’s Isaac McHale and James Lowe from St John Bread and Wine will orchestrate the culinary concerto, alongside wine merchants Bottle Apostle, who will be providing the high-class tipples.

The Five-course dinner will be held at Art Work Space, an art gallery that covers the entire ground
floor at The Hempel, where guests will be invited to sip on cocktails and converse between bites of the canapé offerings of some of London’s finest artists of Cuisine.

With a backdrop from artist David Wightman, entitled Secret Name, the night will completely alter the measuring stick of which you judge a dining experience, and after months of preparation, the stage is set for London’s elite to combine in an event that should be everything our hunger for an evening experience desires.

The event will start at 6:30pm on Sunday 19th December. For more information, call 020 8985 1549

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I can understand why many of you chaps out there have, perhaps, ignored the wonderful world of real ale thus far. The rejection of the charisma of this homely alcohol affair can be stemmed back from when you were first attending the pubs at just a wee snip of a lad.

Throughout your whole life up to the 18-year milestone, you have been accustomed to digesting, mainly, fizzy and fruity drinks. The less fizz there was in your glass, the more sweeter it had to be for you to polish it off.

As we are weaned on this notion, a lot of men just stick with this and succumb to nothing but bland lagers and, when feeling a little saucy, a short of whisky. For those connoisseurs of you out there of the bitters and ales, this notion will very much horrify, but this is what happens. The ‘stick to what you know’ policy just can’t be shaken off.

Luckily, Ember Inns are currently, as I write, holding their own real ale festival, showcasing some of Britain’s finest brewed offerings in dark and pale ales, gifting you an opportunity to change your ways. A place where you can open your mind a little and sneak in the chance of a love affair with real ale, of which Ember Inns would be responsible for.

I gladly attended my local Ember Inn after being notified about this festival, and my experience could have seldom been sweeter. My buddy, who was like a lot of people, nourished on the swallowing of commercial lagers and the like, was a little curious to the idea. The sight of the effort that the barmaid was conducting, as she dragged and hauled the beer pull to the sound of violent squelching was the opposite of the silent pouring he was used to. But once the magic of ‘Tim Taylor’s Golden Best’ was given its first appearance on my pals lips, he was on board.

I, as a much more cultured man, went for the ale that I could childishly chuckle at through mild innuendo’s and the lark, which was ‘The Fox’s Nob.’ And although I unashamedly boast of cheapening the experience with flirting with the barmaid through the name of this fine product, of which she chuckled and blushed, in the same way Barbara Windsor used to react to Sid Owen’s mild pokes through the Carry On franchise, the drink was a lovely little tipple indeed.

As we worked through all the ales on tap, fellow customers were looking at our drinks in realisation of our venture, and got involved. A community of sports banter/work talk and some other choice topics was born through the drinking of ‘The Black Prince’ and ‘Old Smokey.’

We urge you sartorial gallants to get involved in the resurgence of real-ale, and as the current rate of traditional pubs closing is increasing to almost 40 per day, your opportunities are shortening, literally, by the day.

Click here to search for your nearest Ember Inn.

Yes, OK, we accept that, sometimes, very rarely, we to seem to champion the more so-called ‘metro-sexual’ products, treatments and offerings that the modern man has to choose from, but by no means have we ever forgotten our true roots.

Like every modern man should, we fully endorse the idea, the aspect, the concept, and indeed everything else associated with the traditional British pub. Regretfully, it has been well documented for some time now that this staple figure in British Social cycle is experiencing a decline comparable to that of JedWard, and this displeases us severely.

But November shoulnd’t be a time for regretful tidings, as it never is, which is why Ember Inns are holding a four-week Real Ale festival at all of its respective pubs, offering the countries top-tipples in a celebration of a sometime forgotten area of booze.

With such names as ‘Fox’s Nob’ and ‘Granny wouldn’t like it’ you could be forgiven to think that the head of marketting for real ale was also chief script writer for all the Carry On films, but alas, British Real Ale represents a certain nostalgia and romantic vibe that takes you to a much simpler time where Trains ran on coal, and social networking was conversing with your neighbours and fellow pub-inhabitants. Ofcourse, most of us could not draw upon such memories, but the simple sip of a traditional ale can install all kinds of placebo emotions, of which we gladly experience.

So, for just this month at least, when the boss is next to you offering you a drink, or your with the lads who are pondering an approach to the table of fillies (you see what real ale makes me say), escape your initial thoughts of pretentious liquers and go for the Rampant Gryphon.

Click here to search for your nearest Ember Inn establishment.

Every modern man has a drinks cabinet….Every modern man needs….
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