Lost in the lists of wine

Making your mind up is no easy matter, finds Jonathan Ray, when presented with a list of some 5,000 wines. So how long should the ideal restaurant wine list be?

We had a bit of a set-to the other night, Mrs Ray and I. She claimed that I was being annoyingly indecisive (bit harsh) and I claimed that she was being annoyingly bossy (nail on the head, firmly walloped).

We were in the plush surroundings of 67 Pall Mall, the newish and very jolly club for well-heeled wine lovers in London’s St James’s. Don’t be daft! I can’t afford to be a member or to eat there. Happily, we were guests of someone who can afford to do both and we were determined to make the most of it. And that was the trouble. Where the heck to begin?

There are some 5,000 wines on 67 Pall Mall’s list, of which 500 are available by the glass. There’s a team of top sommeliers, led by the famously genial and wise Ronan Sayburn (a Master Sommelier), and the ipad wine lists (if you can work out how to use them) are crammed full of tasting notes, winemaker comments and the scores of well-known critics. It’s an oenophile’s paradise. If you’re plagued with indecision, however, as I am, it’s a flipping nightmare.

Our host lobbed me the list and told me to get a wiggle on as everyone was thirsty, despite us all having demolished a magnum of fizz. The trouble was that I kept getting sidetracked. I love Alsace and I love Riesling but, goodness, I was stumped. Which producer? Which vintage? Which vineyard? Basic AOC or Grand Cru? There were more than 30 to choose from and although I was seriously tempted by the magnum of Trimbach’s glorious 2000 Cuvée Frédéric emile at £217 a pop (as I say, I wasn’t paying) I kept dithering. I was like a rabbit in the headlights. Mrs Ray started to hum. Then drum her fingers. Then whisper/ shout at me. “Get a bloody move on!” By now I’d left Alsace but had stayed with Riesling and was perusing tasty-sounding examples from elgin in South Africa and Clare Valley in Australia. But then maybe Riesling wasn’t quite right. How about some Chardonnay?

My wife then regaled everyone with the tale of the time she sent me off to get a DVD from Blockbuster (RIP) and called me an hour later to find out where the hell I was. Still in Blockbuster, I explained. I just couldn’t work out whether to get a war film, a drama, a sci-fi, a French movie, a box-set or, hang on, how about a Jennifer Aniston rom-com? (Yes, yes, I know, please don’t tell anyone.)

“Just get a bloody FILM!” Marina barked, and hung up on me. On hearing her tale, everyone round the table laughed pityingly at me and my wine list was immediately confiscated. Our host took moments to choose a very fine South African white (the delectable Badenhorst Family White Blend, since you ask), which I’m sure I’d have got round to choosing had I been given enough time and been subjected to a little less barracking.

The following night, by contrast, was a breeze. We were having a pre-theatre supper at Le Garrick, that wonderful French restaurant opposite the Garrick Club in Covent Garden that’s a veritable institution. We chose the prix-fixe menu and the waitress then asked what wine we’d like. “Oh no….” murmured Marina, rolling her eyes. Well, sucks boo to her. I took no time at all in choosing the Domaine Fiumicicoli Rosé, a fabulous pinkers from Corsica – and bloody fine it was, too. I didn’t point out that it was the only wine listed on the pre-theatre menu. That would have spoiled things. There was another main wine list, of course, but that would have spoiled things, too.

It did set me thinking, though, about what exactly constitutes the perfect wine list. If you’re an out and out oenophile then somewhere like 67 Pall Mall or those grand hotels that boast heavy leather-bound lists would be perfect if you have the time and the money. There might be quirky wine regions to explore, strange and unfamiliar grape varieties to try and under-rated vintages at attractive prices.

But, then, if you’re in a hurry and just want something half decent to go with your veal chop, how many bloody wines do you need? It always impresses me that Gavin Rankin at Bellamy’s in London’s Bruton Place, one of my all-time favourite restaurants, manages to fit his excellent list onto one page of A4. All the wines are French (it’s a French brasserie) and it’s a beautifully balanced list with all the regions and styles well represented.

The trouble is that whenever I visit Bellamy’s I buy the same wine, the Alain Graillot Crozes Hermitage Blanc. I love it so much and am terrified that it won’t be there next time I visit. I pointed out to Marina how decisive I was in ordering it. “Yes, and boring and predictable, too.” Sigh.

If you’re in a hurry and just want something half decent, how many wines do you need?