Savour the Whine

While we’ve been peering out at the pouring rain and wondering when we’ll get a break to mow the lawn and tackle the jungle thriving on mild temperatures and incessant downpours, film stars have been tromping the sun-drenched pavement of the Cannes Film Festival, and the rest of Europe has washed up on UK beaches. Monday marked the hottest day of the year yet with temperatures reaching almost ninety degrees Fahrenheit. Media images of Brighton beach awash with pasty sunbathers were reminiscent of the French Riviera circa 1970 or a cartoon rendition of a crowded Italian beach in a ‘Where’s Waldo’ book. The only thing slightly more comical than beachgoers lying cheek-to-cheek, is the sight of Russians flocking to the Baltic beaches to stand – yes, stand - in the sun. Having only seen this in photos, I’ve always wondered whether it’s a peculiarly silent sun worship or whether the usual beach hubbub goes on. (Then my mind inexplicably wanders off into a reverie where, at the sound of a whistle, they all shimmy forward like lemmings to the sea.)

Accompanying news that England has had barely a drop of rain since the first week of April, are predictions of an old-fashioned hose-pipe ban and a long, hot summer. Apparently, any rainfall they lack is instead falling on the bright green grass of the Berkshire hills and Hudson River pastures. Perhaps the unexpected beneficiary of these balmy weeks in England and Wales is the British wine industry, which - no longer an oxymoron - is flourishing. Fights over global warming versus climate change are no odds to the thriving vines. Having all but decimated the country’s richly diverse apple orchards – (land developers and financially-strapped councils can be so egregiously short-sighted) - it’s a thing of beauty to see acres of vineyards bearing fruit in the traditionally hoppy beer territory of Kent and elsewhere from Yorkshire to Dorset, and Cornwall to Wales.

While the seasides of south and west Britain report a rush on ice cream (and hopefully cockles too), the supermarkets are predicting unusual spring figures for burger, beer, and barbecue sales. Must be the grilling fever that grips upstate New Yorkers, freed from the months of frozen tundra, the minute Mother’s Day and Albany’s Tulip Fest is over. (Notoriously the wettest weekend of spring.) Diehard grilling friends are giving a two-finger salute to the soggy weather, with a streak of doggedly English determination. The burger must go on!

Finally, the English Riviera, a stunning stretch of South Devon coastline and harbours, is having its moment in the sun, rivaling its more southerly competition with temperatures outstripping Athens, Rhodes, and Rome. And while the UK is making hay and crushing grapes, I’ve stopped whining about pseudo-tropical rains in favour of trying out new wines. This week, in an unrelated incident I should add, I severed the fleshy pad of a finger on the kitchen mandolin (purchased at Valatie’s ‘Great Finds’, if you want your own). After regaining consciousness, I commiserated with a tasty little pinot noir, only to remember alcohol’s blood-thinning properties and consider the agony of elevating my arm for hours, like riding the subway during rush hour.

Playing Jack and the Beanstalk with my four year old, she laid out the ground rules: “Let’s pretend we’re really hungry like Jack and his mother. There’s no food in the cupboard, no money to go to the supermarket, and nothing in the fridge. No, wait, let’s make it worse. Let’s pretend it’s so bad we don’t have any wine. You open the ‘fridge and there’s no food and no wine at all. Ready?” You can’t really argue with logic like that. But, just in case, I mentally checked the box that I’m not a mummy blogger serving up wine at rainy morning play-dates or drinking pinot noir out of a sippy cup.

Meanwhile, the New York Times is reporting on the climate change heating up Chicago, and its strategic fifty-year adaptation plan based on the news that Chicago will “feel more like Baton Rouge than a Northern metropolis by the end of this century.” Unusually rainy springs will give way to long, dry summers and a shift of several zones for plant hardiness and drought tolerance. As Chicago gets its game plan in place, New York is devising its own adaptation plan to meet the rising sea. So, who knows, perhaps this spring’s torrential rains are a prediction for future, Riviera-style, hot summers and a boon for the New York wine industry. Watch out California, here we come.

**If you fancy learning more about English wine, conveniently English Wine Week runs May 28th – June 5th, 2011: http://www.englishwineweek.co.uk/ **