Emilie Aspeling writes Emilie Aspeling is an ex-sommelier who started out in Michelin-starred dining rooms and wine bars in the South of England before hopping the channel to settle in Paris where she now works in wine education at Kedge Wine School. She is currently studying for her WSET Diploma.
A very British Bacchus
What links English meadows, orgiastic carousing and sunburnt skin? Why Britain’s answer to Sauvignon Blanc of course: the Bacchus grape!
It’s perhaps strange that the grape variety that for me so clearly encapsulates everything wonderful about the English countryside is in fact German. Yet Bacchus barely figures on Germany’s list of top ten grape varieties, whilst here in the UK it is the 4th most planted. Wine GB figures show that Bacchus follows closely behind Champagne’s holy trinity (Chardonnay, Pinot Noir and Meunier) in plantings and yet few outside the industry have ever heard of it.
The grape is named after the Roman god of Wine, Bacchus, and is the son of the mortal woman Semele who died when Jupiter revealed himself in divine form to her (one could argue this was the original mind being blown…) Bacchus also gave his name to ‘Bacchanalia’, the Roman festivals where wine flowed, loud music played, and sexual inhibitions fell away - not unlike a Bank Holiday weekend in the UK!
When I drink Bacchus, I think of England. Not in the ‘lie-back and…’ kind of way, more that with each sniff, each gulp, I’m reminded of growing up in the green hills of the South of England: grass freshly mown in advance of the village fête, blackberry picking after school in early autumn, and biting into teeth-squeakingly tart green apples. I remember tentatively fishing a football out of a nettle ridden ditch and the scent of hedgerow honeysuckle wafting on the breeze on a heavy summer’s night. These tastes and smells, unconsciously confined to childhood memory, come floating to the surface in a crisp glass of Bacchus.
Whilst English sparkling is finally getting the attention it so rightly deserves, still wines are often an after-thought - criticised as sub-par to justify praise of sparklings. One might argue that good traditional method sparkling can be found anywhere - from Champagne, to Franciacorta, all the way to New Zealand and South Africa. Yet Bacchus offers something that can’t be found in Champagne, or Catalunya, or California. It gives drinkers freshness, greeness, a herbal character and you’d be hard pressed to find a wine that so perfectly represents its growing environment. When planted in Germany Bacchus can be fruity and full bodied, taking on an almost Muscat floral character, yet when planted in Sussex, Kent and Surrey it is decidedly English with notes of elderflower, crisp apple, nettle, gooseberry and citrus. It takes you on a sensory journey through pub gardens, country lanes and barbecues at the beach. I’d challenge any blind taster to miss the inherent ‘Englishness’ of its evocative, aromatic profile.
And if the bouquet hadn’t already convinced you that Bacchus is emblematic of the British identity, then know that the grapes have such thin and sensitive skin that they risk sunburn if overexposed. Again, not unlike how on any Saturday in August skin-baring beachgoers can exhibit every shade of rosé from Provençal to Tavel. So the next time you’re feeling a little sun-kissed, kicking back on a long, hot summer evening and wondering what would best quench your thirst - give Bacchus a try. You might just be surprised by the gustative trip down memory lane.
Image by diane555 via iStock
