Je Négrette Rien - part 2 - a wine post

There are three unfathomable mysteries for the average British Citizen.

3) Why is that Bercow fellow the Speaker of the House of Commons of the Mother of Parliaments?
2) Why is it almost impossible to buy a slice of bacon that's any thicker than 2.43 millimeters? (Who on earth buys their rump steak cut as thin as this??)
1) Why is it so difficult to acquire in Blighty wine that is made from (or predominantly from) the Négrette grape?

Now -  though 3 and 2 are extremely vexing, it's number 1 in the list that really really keeps me awake at night; because while there's sort of an excuse for both 3 (look at the people who chose him) and 2 (crispy bacon can be nice), I've yet to find any explanation that can possibly excuse 1.  It really goes to show that rational choice theory is on a par with phrenology.

One of the aims of this blog is to rectify 1. A day will come, you mark my words, when this blog will be celebrated for having achieved for Négrette that which eluded Lord Longford with regard to releasing Myra Hindley.  So this is the second entry in the history of this entirely valueless blog devoted to making the Négrette grape an household name (the first post about Négrette is here).

Take a butchers as this.

I can't remember who said that there's no such thing as a great wine, only a great bottle.  Well have a second look at the piccy because that's a great bottle.  The back label has a 200 word dissertation explaining why every man woman and child this side of the day of judgement should be drinking this with their cornflakes, their sandwiches, their scones, and their roast suppers. It helpfully informs us, for example, that the Négrette grape was imported to Fronton from Cyprus (and there was I thinking that the finest thing ever to come out of Cyprus was the froth from the severed testicles of Uranus.....).  So there you go,  not only is drinking Négrette good for your palate and soul, it's also good for your general knowledge.  Class.

One of the minus points for this bot is that they've gone and mixed it with Syrah and Cabernet Franc. While I'm happy to concede that the makers of this wine know their stuff better than I do there's still no excuse for it.  Remember the catchphrase: if it's good enough for Aphrodite, then it's good enough for me. You see - wine made exclusively from Négrette is wonderful in that it's both floral on the nose but also thick enough to paint onto your garden bench in order to protect the wood through the winter months.  

Anyway - what of the above bouteille?  4 Euros from a supermarket somewhere in what used to be part of the United Kingdom.  Lacking in the floral nose of a quintessential Négrette wine but you do get a great whiff of the back of the bottom drawer of the desk in your grandfather's study;  foetid old pencils, mouldy felt tip pens and the like. Brilliant.  And on the gob and tongue a mixture of 168 year old blackberry jam and creosote.  It doesn't come much better at this sort of price.