Me, myself and I

Valentine's Day: time to get out the good stuff. And drink it alone.

Valentines Day. Grim.

Never liked it, regardless of my relationship status. I once told a boyfriend if he as much as even acknowledged it, I would terminate our relationship with immediate effect. On reflection a bit extreme, not to mention ironic given how many genuine red flags I’ve routinely ignored or, inexplicably, run towards in the past… but that’s a whole other post. Luckily, the boyfriend in question held the day in much the same regard and we had a very nice time doing absolutely nothing.

Nevertheless, February 14th is impossible to ignore. Especially if you work in food and wine and your inbox is stuffed with ‘rose champagne to wow your date’ emails and ‘special’ (over-priced) menus. I can’t imagine anything less romantic than being one of 28 couples in a restaurant all being fleeced, one flute of pink fizz at a time.

The one thing I am very keen on everyone doing, however, is opening up a properly nice bottle of wine and enjoying it all to yourself. (This is obviously easier if you’re single but if not, just open two and sit in separate rooms).

I am not alone (in the wine trade anyway) as being someone enjoys drinking solo but from what I can gather, drinking on your own is still frowned upon by some. Slippery slope and all that. I recently met someone in their early forties (with no religious boundaries) who announced ‘oh we don’t keep alcohol in the house’ as if that was a sure sign of things being completely out of control. In contrast, I lust after a proper cellar, a permanently stocked drinks trolley and the listed property that warrants both.

It would be simply impractical to only drink with friends. For a start, I’d have to make considerably more friends to match the number of wines I want to drink. It would be exhausting and even I don’t have enough chat to sustain that level of social interaction.

Not only do I like drinking alone but it’s often my preferred way to consume smart wine. Don’t share above average wine with below average people, I say.

(Similarly I’m a big fan of dining solo: why ruin a good meal with bad people? Zeren Wilson, of John Dory in Folkestone, wrote a great piece on this matter in Noble Rot a few years ago.)

It’s nothing to do with how much someone knows about wine, or whether they fully appreciate the bottle or not. Although I think if we’re all being honest, do we share our best wine with the friend who normally drinks Echo Falls? No, we don’t. That’s why ‘party wine’ exists. I’m talking about those people that drain the good energy out of any situation. Some wines are better company than some people.

There are bottles that serve as a mere seasoning to the occasion (again, party wine). And others that have an equal place on the table, to those who are at the table. And sometimes the wine is the VIP guest, the very reason you even show up in your house.

There’s nothing wrong with any type of wine, of course. It’s just a case of knowing when and with whom to deploy which.

People love saying ‘wine is meant to be shared’. It’s a sentiment I rate only one notch above than ‘live laugh love’ and can go in the same bin as ‘I love cooking with wine, sometimes I even put it in the food’.

Wine isn’t meant to be shared, it’s meant to be drunk. And it’s meant to be enjoyed and whether or not you share it, is entirely up to you.

So, what did I end up opening on February 14th for me, myself and I?

Les Dolomies La Cabane Pinot Noir, 2023 from the Jura, bought a couple of weeks ago in Paris. Definitely something a lot of friends would be keen to share no doubt. You don’t have to twist many winey arms when clutching a bottle of Jura Pinot… Alas it was too spritzy (for me, and most people I would imagine) and after a few tricks to get it to settle I put the cork back in and stuck it in the fridge to return to the following day. Then I opened up a reliably delicious bottle of Beaujolais (Le Bien Elevé Gamay, Anthony Perol 2023) which hit the spot perfectly: pure and plush brambly fruit, silky tannins, lots of energy and terribly easy to drink. No spritz, no funk, job done. The Dolomies the following day? Ravaged with mouse.

C’est la vie.

So, next time you find yourself worrying about whether or not you should open that nice bottle just for yourself, remember that sometimes it’s not even that nice when you do!

Don’t overthink it. After all, how do you even know it’s nice unless you open it and find out?