Charlotte Brooke writes “Mother” is how I usually describe myself, but like a great wine, there’s layers to me. Manager of a York wine bar, Creative Writing Masters graduate, painter – if there’s a story hidden behind it, I’m trying it! The same goes for wine: if it’s from a country who don’t typically export, I want to learn all there is to know about the culture, the grapes, the stories that influence each bottle, and the techniques of the winemakers. Some of my favourite wines come from places I didn’t know even made wine, like Romanian Feteasca Neagra or Bulgarian Tamyanka.
A wine for every mood
You try hard not to jingle the bell as you enter my humble little wine bar, a challenge you set yourself each time, and each time you fail. This time, it’s the breeze that coaxes it into singing; you’re not rushing, not radiating excitement, and though you’re smiling at me, it’s a smile paired with one heck of an exhale. I know exactly what that means. As you kick a leaf back outside and shut the door, I turn to the shelves that hold the bottles on our wine list. I’m taking from you the task of choosing. Having someone you trust enough to take over a decision or two is a small mercy, I know, but it’s one I gladly offer when I can.
I don’t bother looking at the whites – they’re much too brisk for the chill you’ve come in from, and rosé has never been your thing. I can sometimes convince you to try a sparkling, but there’s no bounce in your step to make me think that’s what you need right now. So, red it is. Usually, you’ll sit for a few, tell me about your day, your week, your life, and I’ll help you learn the different flavours and mouthfeels of whatever I try to shock you with. But today I can feel the tension in your shoulders, the exhaustion slowing your steps, the pent-up emotions I’ll help you to vent in a moment. Today needs pairing precisely.
The Pinot Noir and the Fleurie are ruled out immediately. Their light bodies and fresh red fruits are the summery pop hits of the wine genre – suited more to a heatwave and easy to enjoy without much deeper thought required. They lift your mood and tell the grey skies to bugger off, but we’re not aiming to fix the world and leave laughing. No, my aim for today is to listen to everything and anything that’s bothering you, and a lighter red is not the wine for that occasion.
My hand wavers near the Monastrell from Jumilla. Full-bodied, dry, a beautiful blend of blackberries and tobacco, but out the corner of my eye I see you slouch into the bar stool and for just a moment your head droops down, the facade of the day falling away a little. You must have a lot to get off your chest. Talking doesn’t leave much chance for eating though, and without food, the Monastrell’s smoky undertones and harsh tannins will coat your teeth and tongue, making it that little bit harder to get out whatever is on your mind.
“You can just give me anything, you know,” you say, voice quieter than usual, but showing no evidence that you’re annoyed at my delay in getting a glass in your hand. If anything, there’s a slight playfulness to your tone; you’ve been here enough times to know I pride myself on my recommendations. I like the art of it, the satisfaction of taking random details and turning them into exactly what you didn’t know you were looking for.
The South African Cabernet Franc could be a contender – it has the body to stand up to the autumn weather, a touch of oak aging has softened the tannins yet kept the fruit, but that green bell pepper note... It’s not unpleasant by any means, quite enjoyable actually, but like a sharp, sudden saxophone solo in an otherwise soft, smooth jazz song, it demands your attention. The only attention you need to be giving right now is to yourself.
No, I know what you need. I reach for the bottle and uncork it, pouring you a medium glass – enough to relax you, but not so much that your thoughts start to muddle and your mind gets fuzzy. The deep purple colour swirls round the glass as I hand it over, and you consider it for a second before meeting my eyes, as if you’re a game show host asking if this wine is my final answer. I give you a slight nod, confirming my choice.
You bring the rim to your nose, tilting the glass to bring the liquid closer as you inhale the aromas: dark fruits, a hint of vanilla, baking spices and mountain herbs. A small smirk threatens to break through as you lower the wine to your lips. So far, so good it seems. But now for the true test.
I know what you’re tasting, at least in terms of the actual flavours. I’ve tried most of the wines here, certainly all those on the wine list. First, ripe blackberries burst across your tongue, dissolving into soft plum kissed with the warmth of black pepper. Then, the luxurious velvet of melted dark chocolate and that vanilla sneaks back in. It’s smooth – the tannins are a gentle kiss against your teeth rather than a coating, and the acidity is in perfect balance with the alcohol.
Your eyes shutter, your shoulders lower ever so slightly as you swallow, and that smirk breaks into a smile I mirror back to you. Success.
“So, what is it that I’m enjoying so thoroughly?”
“That would be the Georgian Saperavi,” I reply to you. “Now, are you ready to tell me what’s on your mind, or would you like a minute of quiet?”
You take another sip of your wine, nod to yourself as you place it carefully on the bar and begin telling me all about your tough day.
Published unedited and in accordance with the rules of the competition published here.
