All is fine and dandy

There’s so much to enjoy in April, says Jonathan Ray, especially once you’ve discovered the delights of bartenders’ ketchup and that whisky is a magical match for Easter chocolate

I DON’T know if you remember that priceless Mike Gatting moment at whatever Test match it was at Lord’s? Well, from memory, it was day three, around 11.40am. England was fielding and Gatting – a well-upholstered food lover – dropped an absolute sitter in the slips.

“Oooh dear,” said the commentator wryly. “Twenty to 12, a tricky time of day for Gatting, caught between reminiscing about what he had for breakfast and dreaming about what he’s going to have for lunch.”

Well I feel much the same about April. I mean, I love April, of course, and not just because it’s my birthday month. What? Oh, the seventh, thanks so much for asking, but please don’t go to too much trouble. No, it’s just that, come April, I always find myself stuck between recalling the great feasts of winter – washed down as they were with big, butch, hearty Syrahs and Cabernets – and fantasising over the picnics of summer, partnered as they will be by light, elegant Pinot Noirs and Cabernet Francs.

As Mrs Ray keeps pointing out, I should try to learn to enjoy living in the moment a bit more rather than constantly harking back to le temps perdu or looking ahead to something that might not even happen anyway. And she’s right, dammit. After all, there’s so much to enjoy right here, right now. The clocks have gone forward, the skies are blue, the daffs are out, the lambs are frolicking, my Glyndebourne and MCC tickets have arrived, there’s Euro 2020 and the Tokyo Olympics to look forward to – damn, sorry, can’t help it – and all is dandy.

It’s certainly true that my drinking habits change in April, helped in part by the longer evenings. Mrs R and I still enjoy a fortifying 6.30pm G&T, but we also find ourselves veering towards the lighter porto tónico – white port and tonic, half and half over ice and a slice – as well as making much of that exquisite St-germain Elderflower Liqueur.

I don’t know if you’ve stumbled across this elixir yet, but it comes in a gorgeous faux art deco/art nouveau bottle and is known in the trade as bartenders’ ketchup, so successful is it in enhancing all manner of cocktails. I like to slosh a decent measure into a champagne flute and top up with fine, ice-cold fizz, or add to a large, ice-filled glass of Sauvignon

Blanc and soda water. It’s deeply refreshing, headily aromatic and decently alcoholic at 20%vol. Oh, and I always use it instead of sugar syrup in that corkingly fine cocktail, the French 75.

Easter is in the offing, of course, and for most of us that means roast lamb (and having been brought up in Kent, it’s Romney Marsh lamb for me, thanks very much) followed by plenty of chocolate. One easy to match with wine, the other rather tricky.

When I was growing up in God’s chosen county, my mother cooked our Easter lamb in honey, ground ginger and local cider (Bob Luck’s, of course) and we’d knock back flagons of cider with it. I still cook leg of lamb this way and sometimes stud it with smoked garlic and anchovies, too. I serve it alongside some slow-roast shoulder cooked on a bed of gooey onions. Either way, I drink wine with lamb now, rather than cider, and usually opt for cherry-ripe Pinot Noir from New Zealand, Australia, South Africa or, if a bit strapped for cash, Chile. No, don’t laugh, there are some absolute bargains to be had in Chile, especially with Pinot Noir. Just try Cono Sur’s Bicicleta Pinot Noir, a peach at just £7.50 from Tesco. It’s a heck of a lot cheaper than equivalent-quality Burgundy.

Rioja, too, always hits the spot with lamb, the juicy, ripe fruit and keen acidity cutting through the fat just so. And Rioja is such great value and — in commendably punterfriendly fashion — is always fully mature on release. Both Majestic and The Wine Society have excellent ranges.

As for chocolate, what would Easter be without it? But don’t go thinking that any old sweet wine will go well with it just because chocolate is sweet. A fine Sauternes, for example, is hopeless and ruins both.

Try instead a tawny port; a Banyuls or Maury from France (similar to port but marginally less alcoholic); a sweet Black Muscat (Andrew Quady’s Elysium is perfect); a thick, rich, molasses-like Pedro Ximénez or a fine whisky.

Yep, whisky can be a magical match for chocolate, as anyone who’s had Chivas 18 Gold Signature Blend or Glenmorangie Signet with Green & Black’s organic dark chocolate will attest. There are elusive chocolate notes to both said whiskies and I can’t think of a finer way to end a shirt-popping Easter lunch than with a sip of one or other of the former and a bite of the latter.

As Mrs Ray keeps pointing out, I should try to learn to enjoy living in the moment a bit more