A crash in the vin

France, long our go-to destination for wine, is struggling to meet demand, Mais non! What to do? Panic not, says Jonathan Ray, grapes grow well in other places, too

SO there I was at a frightfully swish reception held by one of the finest of all Grande Marque champagne houses. The great and the good of the wine trade were there plus assorted riff-raff, hangers-on, liggers and freeloaders such as me and the bubbles were flowing freely. Indeed, so tasty was the fizz that we tucked in with abandon, our cacophonous conversation punctuated by the constant pop of corks and crash of empties being flung into bins. As I drained my umpteenth glass and grabbed another, I belatedly realised that we were gaily knocking back the Maison’s spectacular vintage champagne rather than the expected non-vintage. Crikey!

I collared the MD to give him an effusive hug of thanks and to say that I felt as if I was in one of those cheesy TV advertisements for Ferrero Rocher chocolates.

“Ambassador, with these bottles you’re spoiling us,” I yelled in his ear.

The wan smile I received in return told me that he’d heard that line a dozen times already. With a weary shrug, he explained that the Maison had simply run out of non-vintage champagne and that he was obliged either to serve us their prized vintage fizz or to cancel the party all together.

I commiserated heartily and muttered something about their loss being our gain before weaving off to grab another bottle before they flicked the lights and booted us out.

In the cold light of a hungover dawn, I realised that I’d been a touch too flippant. The fact is not so much that this particular champagne house has been a victim of its own success but that a combination of tricky recent vintages, Brexit-related bureaucracy, Covid-related backlogs and goodness knows what else has resulted in a distinct shortage. Favoured restaurants, wine merchants, clubs, hotels and bars have been looked after but beyond these you will struggle to find this particular champagne (and many others of similar quality) in any of your usual haunts.

And it’s not just champagne that has suffered. The rest of France is in something of a jam, too, with recent vintages across the country having been beset by hail, frost, flooding and disease. Even the good vintages – and there have been some very good ones – have seen much smaller harvests than usual. I’m afraid that wine lovers must steel themselves to expect shortages of bordeaux and burgundy, as well as champagne, in the coming months and to expect to pay much higher prices for those bottles that they do find.

France is many folks’ go-to destination for fine wine and traditionalists will argue that in most categories it provides the benchmark. The greatest sparkling wine in the world? Champagne. The finest expression of Pinot Noir? Burgundy. The purest representation of Chardonnay? Ditto. The perfect manifestation of Cabernet Sauvignon/merlot blends? Bordeaux. The most exquisite sweet wines? Sauternes.

But we must be brave and I suggest that we take France out of the vinous equation and spread the net a bit. After all, there are grapes that grow in France that grow most satisfactorily elsewhere, such as Cabernet Sauvignon, Chardonnay, Syrah and Sauvignon. And there are grapes that grow in France that one might argue grow rather better elsewhere, such as Malbec in Argentina and Carmenère in Chile.

There are also grapes that don’t grow in France at all but thrive further afield, such as Albariño in Spain, Furmint in Hungary, Grüner Veltliner in Austria, Sangiovese in Italy, Zinfandel in California, Pinotage in South Africa and so on and so on.

So, instead of champagne I’m going to drink my fill of fine English sparklers along with as much Franciacorta and Trentodoc as I can find. These latter two are champagne-method wines from northern Italy that should be on any fizz-lover’s radar. Do seek them out. And instead of red and white burgundy I’m going to grab some fine Pinot Noir from the Western Cape and Chardonnay from California. I’ll be drinking buckets of Albariño and Grüner Veltliner instead of Loire Valley Sauvignon Blanc or Chablis, and I don’t need any excuse to drink Chianti and Rioja.

Fine wine is made across the globe and – call me a heretic – after a while I don’t think you’ll miss France one jot. Just imagine you’re at Royal Ascot, Cheltenham or Glorious Goodwood betting without the favourite.

Wine lovers must steel themselves to expect shortages of bordeaux and burgundy