A toast to autumn
On getting a bit pissed while wearing a jumper
As much as I enjoy the summer, there is something I find deeply soothing and grounding about the arrival of both spring and autumn. In my mind, these are the transitional seasons; fleeting in that just as you welcome their arrival, no sooner are you waving them off again, rather than the seemingly endless and often stifling days of summer and winter.
Both are also infused with a sense of fresh starts and intention – green shoots emerging from the earth, tiny uniformed children returning to school, spring cleaning, the arrival of new seasonal produce. In contrast, summer and winter often feel characterised by reckless, feral abandon – day parties that turn into nights that turn into weekends, invites, outfits, Monzo notifications, eating and drinking like you’re actively trying to develop gout, brat summer!!!
Time also seems to operate in funny, paradoxical ways over the summer and winter months. In summer, the endlessness of the long nights and annual leave and summer Fridays and school holidays, countered by the knowledge that there is an end, it’s coming, and time is running away from you like a spooked horse as you try and cram as much Summer into your summer as possible.
In winter – well, we all know the bleak, grey void of January through March, where the knowledge of its end provides no comfort as it truly feels like it will never arrive, and where it feels impossible to enjoy anything happening in the moment, instead wishing the time away for the arrival of spring.
And so, to spring and autumn. If I had to choose a favourite, autumn would probably win by the slightest margin, given my preference for retreating rather than emerging*. In autumn, I find myself returning to some of my favourite pastimes – cooking, big walks that finish in the pub, getting out of London and into the countryside. I get to crack out my A/W playlist, start thinking ahead to Christmas, put the brakes on a little bit. And when I do emerge out, it’s more likely to be for late lunches, long dinners, or a nice bottle, ideally somewhere with soft lighting and softer furnishings.
Autumn, for me, also means a shift in what I’m drinking. Light and spritzy whites are swapped out for their bolder, more robust counterparts, reds take on a darker hue, and (most, but not all) rosé is left to gather dust, as it’s forced into hibernation for the winter months.
To mark the arrival of my favourite season, I’ve pulled together five wines across the colour spectrum that you should be reaching for to keep you hydrated/inebriated as the temperature drops. The perfect accompaniments to a Sunday roast, a night in watching Celebrity Masterchef, or just listening to the Twilight soundtrack while stomping around in some leaves.
Five wines to welcome in autumn
Domaine Tissot, Crémant du Jura 'Indigène', NV
It’s hard for me to write a list of autumnal wines without making all of them Jura wines, but I’ll try. Personally, I always want to be drinking Chardonnay from the Jura – the good stuff has this gorgeous depth to it, all round and nutty and complex and brooding. Basically, exactly the sort of thing you should be drinking at this time of year. So Crémant du Jura – particularly this one from Stéphane and Bénédicte Tissot – is what I’ll be opting for should there be a cause for celebration at any point over the coming weeks. 50% Chardonnay, 40% Pinot Noir, with the remaining 10% made up from Poulsard and Trousseau, this sparkler is rich, creamy, with a soft, velvety mousse and oodles of character – expect toasted nuts, freshly baked apple pie, and flinty gun smoke on the nose. Doesn’t really get much more autumnal than that, does it?
Domaine Inebriati, Blanc de Noirs, 2022
This is a wine that was made to be paired with a big, fuck-off roast dinner. The Yorkshire-puddings-as-big-as-your-head kind of roast dinners. The can’t-move-for-two-hours-after roast dinners, y’know what I mean? Blanc de Noir wines (white wine (usually sparkling, but not always) that’s made from red grapes) can, if made well, offer a more sumptuous and weighty mouthfeel than its Blanc de Blanc counterparts, making them a nice option for autumn and winter drinking. In this case, we have Grenache and Mourvèdre – two classic Rhone varieties, vinified in a pretty unclassic way. The end result is a rich, rounded and floral white wine with a delicate pink-ish hue. This is one I’ll be stocking up on come the festive season – if you’re smart, you should too.
Folaquier, Orange a la Mer, 2022
I am, for various reasons, in a bit of a funk (ha ha) about orange wine at the moment. Blame over exposure, blame a surplus of cheap but not cheerful options on the market, or blame having drank too many delicious, totally-opposite-end-of-the-spectrum white wines that have got me wondering why the hell anyone bothers macerating white on skins in the first place?! (Just kidding (sort of)). Or perhaps it’s because, for me, a good skin contact wine belongs firmly in the cooler months – and by a good skin contact, I mean your bigger, more extracted, more textural orange wines. Basically, one that is going to pair well with a giant plate of food (are you noticing a theme here?). Thankfully, Finley’s in Hoxton came to the rescue recently, via one of their very fun, informal and educational tastings, where we tasted Foulaquier’s ‘Orange a la Mer’. This Muscat and Grenache Blanc blend from the Languedoc in France may have just rekindled my fondness for orange wine. Yes, there are the floral notes you would expect from a Muscat blend, but not overwhelmingly so. The much more prominent notes of apricot, cinnamon, tangerine and sherbet lemon, along with some puckering tannins and a gentle saline edge, make this an easy-going yet intriguing skin contact, perfect for transitioning out of summer and into autumn.
Franz Weninger, Rozsa Petsovits, 2021
A rare example of a rosé I am happy to drink all year round, if not with a preference for drinking it in the months that bookend the year. Provence style rosé this is not, but it’s also still distinctly rosé, rather than the style of dark rosé’s that could arguably be categorised as light reds. For a rosé to be able to hold its own in autumn and winter, it has to have some body, some spice, and some darker fruit coming through, all of which this has in swathes. What’s more, there’s also a pleasant rustic earthiness – wild petals, broken twigs and forest floor. A real food friendly rosé too – get some friends round, roast some meat and some veg, crack open a bottle or two of this, and you’ve got yourself a gorgeous afternoon.
Hors Champ, Un Vie La Nuit, 2021
Friends of mine who knew me before I became an insufferable wino will remember the days where I wouldn’t even look at a red wine, scarred from too many debilitating red wine hangovers. Then, I moved onto chilled reds, your glou glou, your vin de soif – but I still refused to drink anything with more grip than a tiny infant’s hand. Now – well, admittedly I’m still a bit of a coward when it comes to reaaally big reds, BUT I’m not scared of texture and tannin like I once was – and nothing makes me happier now than a silky, supple red after a bracing walk in on a crisp October’s day. This fresh and pretty Syrah from the Roussillon is exactly what I want on those kind of days. All black cherry, black pepper, black velvet – the kind of wine that you could happily bring home to your parents, share with a lover, or drink by yourself in front of an open fire (or, if you rent in London, a video of an open fire on YouTube, casted onto your TV).
In terms of where and when to drink during the autumn months, here are some recent and some long-standing favourites, in order to maximise your enjoyment in spite of the mostly crap weather:
At the aforementioned Finley’s wine bar – One to add to your ‘want to go’ list on Google Maps, not least because they’ve recently managed to re-open after a particularly devastating break-in, but also because Sia, the owner, has created a delightfully cosy and friendly space to share a drink and some snacks, and because their tasting events are some of the most approachable and communal that I’ve come across – the perfect way to spend a cold October/November evening.
Rasputins, Hackney – Trying to convince friends to go and drink in a dive bar when the sun doesn’t set until 10pm is rarely going to work in your favour. But now that the temperature is rarely climbing above 15 degrees and it’s dark before Eastenders comes on the telly, you should absolutely be making your way to Rasputins to gorge on £7 martinis, £3 mystery shots, and more hotdogs than you can shake a mustard drenched bratwurst at.
The Mayflower, Rotherhithe – Truly the best pub in London, bar none. Go for the open fire, eclectic wall decor and the novelty of the Thames bashing up against the door as the jetty floods at high tide, and stay for one of the most decadent Sunday roasts you can get within the confines of the M25.
Le Beaujolais, Covent Garden – Should you find yourself in central London looking for somewhere to shelter from the rain and/or the hoards of people, look no further than this little slice of France hidden in Covent Garden. Cosy, friendly and lively, with an extensive selection of French wines (hint: ask for their list of off-menu wines at the bar), a visit to Le Beaujolais is worth battling the Leicester Square crowds for.
At home, on your couch, watching Gilmore Girls. Throw in a homemade toad in the hole if ya nasty.
*I feel compelled to clarify that I am not one of those sorts who sneers at people who revel in going out, releasing their inhibitions, feeling the rain on their skin, etc. The same sort that prefers to be bundled up in a blanket at home watching Netflix and considers being an introvert their defining personality trait. [Skepta voice] That’s not me. I read this piece from Tell The Bees recently, picking apart the idea that people either don’t go out anymore, along with the sentiment held by a lot of People Online that if you do go out and get on it, you’re somehow morally or spiritually deficient, which felt particularly apt as we move into the Indoors season. Let the records show that I love Having It Large and being a menace – I just also like soup and wearing a big jacket.