In company of some fine wine

It feels like arriving at one of those country house parties that happen only in other people's lives - every guest is a friend of the owner, and if there isn't something you immediately want to talk to them about, you're quite happy just to lounge back, gin martini in hand, and be amused by their dashing eccentricity or sparkling repartee.

Except these aren't people, they are wines. I am at Green & Blue, a wine shop-cum-tapas bar in East Dulwich, south London (020-8693 9250, and there's no need to feel left out if you live nowhere near - there's a website from which you can order:

Kate Thal, the punchily determined South African and former sommelier whose baby this is, is showing me round. "This is a real beast of a Montepulciano," she says, fingering a bottle of Valle Reale Montepulciano d'Abruzzo 2002 (£11.85). "Good if you like real earthy, powerful wines." (Later we try it: she's right. The moment it's uncorked, its sun-baked perfume bursts out of the bottle like a genie and my hard-to-please cousin pronounces it "sensational".)

There are only 150 wines in the shop - "It's a small list so people can browse and feel they know everything here, though we do make changes so no one gets bored," says Thal. Many are unusual characters - a Falanghina from Campania, a Corsican vermentino. But the real difference is the way they are arranged, by style, not country or price, to help you navigate the forest of unknown words. It certainly makes a change from slaloming down supermarket wine aisles to be met by the blank, neon gaze of an infantry of mediocre chardonnay, cabernet, throw-me-away.

We try, and like, the Chilean El Grano Carmenere 2003 (£6.05) from the "softer, light and aromatic or ripe and juicy" reds section. "Probably the best-value red we have," says Thal. "My comfort wine." It's easy-going and plump, with the slight tea-like smell that makes carmenere so un-boring.

Roc des Anges Blanc 2003 (£13.20), from Roussillon, France, from the "fruity, sometimes slightly aromatic" white range, is stunning. It smells as softly elegant as cashmere but is full and rich, with a spiciness and tropicality and slight, dancing minerality.

We also enjoy Pietro Zuffo Albana di Romagna Secco 2003 (£7.20), from Italy, made from the albana grape. It's very herbaceous. "We drink it a lot with chicken," says Thal.

The advantage of independent shops such as Thal's is that they are free to buy whatever they please - there's no need to think who'll spend on promotions, or to find wineries that are big enough to feed the thirst of several hundred stores up and down the country.

As Thal says, "The only rule here is that a wine has to be good."


Last year I spent time on the US west coast and drank much chardonnay. But the wine that really took me was from Washington State, in particular from Walla Walla (a town famous for growing red onions). It was not cheap (corporate dinners and a favourable exchange rate made it better value), but I would be interested in a couple for the rack. Where can I source some in the UK?

You are right: wines from Washington State do tend to be on the pricey side. This, and the fact that many are from small wineries, means that availability is very limited over here. There are a few on - Chateau Ste Michelle Eroica Riesling 2003/4, Columbia Valley, Washington State (£159.24 a case through everywine) is one goodie, produced in collaboration with the Mosel's feted Ernst Loosen. But you wanted only a couple of bottles. Berry Brothers have tiny amounts (too few to spare one for me to test) of Andrew Will Seven Hills Cabernet 1999/2000 (£29.50), from Walla Walla, and Andrew Will Winery Sorella 1999 (£33.50). But the expense account may still be your best bet: one importer tells me that most of his Washington wines go straight to top-end restaurants (the likes of the Ivy Group and those with Michelin stars).

A note about ChateauOnline, at which reader John Taylor used to buy - or at least he tried to - the measured and dignified Chateau les Ormes de Pez 1997 I had enjoyed at a friend's house. Six weeks after paying for his order, the wine hadn't arrived. It took my intervention to secure a resolution. ChateauOnline, professing horror and embarrassment, also promised to send Mr Taylor some compensatory Champagne, but at time of writing it still hadn't turned up, so I contacted them again. They assured me that the bad service experienced by Mr Taylor was a one-off that they sincerely regretted. Does anyone have a happier experience to recount?

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