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Texture—technique The book’s title was chosen by the editors. It was not Andrew’s choice. The chapter and individual essay titles, however, are all his. They are worth more than a mention. They show his imagination, they reveal his piece-planning, they are oblique, deft, tantalizing. Take this one: “Call in the Plumbers.” What on earth can plumbing have to do with wine? It is a nice example of his creative, revealing use of a central metaphor. The subject is appellations. “Appellations have a problem,” he begins. “The problem is the same one you have with your car or your house: appellations need maintenance to work well. They’re not getting it.” And after briefly discussing their origins, history, and current fitness for purpose, which leaves much to be desired, he ends, “Without maintenance, nothing lasts for ever. Time to call in the plumbers.” Very neat. Almost every title is a similarly delicious headline tease, many chapter headings a composition in miniature. “Call in the Plumbers” is a nicely contrived, simple top-and-tail analogy. Much of Andrew’s writing, however, is rich with allusion, metaphor, and conceit woven right through a text. He is very attached to the notion of wines’ “allusions.” They are, indeed, absolutely central to the way in which he sees the world through wine. Prominent among those allusions are cultural references to the arts and artists—Oscar Wilde, Ernest Hemingway, Ted Hughes; Schubert, Richard Strauss, Wagner; André Tarkovsky, Caspar David Friedrich, Miró, to name a few who figure—in no way self-consciously, but as a genuine enrichment of the ideas and to the appeal of the writing itself.


“An Evening with the Lilac-Berried


Mutant” (Gewurztraminer) is a glorious case in point. The central conceit here is of shame, deviant (mutant?) behavior, carnality, indecency, excess… It is no surprise, then, that two of this particular embroidery’s golden threads are Lord Alfred Douglas (Bosie) and Oscar Wilde, his lover. Bosie, at the end of his poem “Two Loves” describes his own homosexuality as “the love that dare not speak its name.” Andrew then observes of his love of Gewurztraminer, “This is when those of us who love Gewurztraminer begin to empathise with Bosie. In right-thinking wine-drinking circles, there is something a little


shameful about admitting that you regularly spend an evening with this lilac-berried mutant, and even enjoy the experience.” And he concludes the paragraph with the contrasting “rectitude” of Riesling: “Riesling and rectitude are bedfellows (in wedlock, of course).” Warming to his conceit, he then brings on Richard Strauss (excess?) and Salome (carnality, deviance?): “Whereas Gewurztraminer is doubtful, languid, and fin-de-siècle, at best a Rosenkavalier, and at worst a Salome, with its head- slicing alcohol levels, its neglect of acidity, its copious flesh,” and so on. “Head- slicing” for alcohol seems a bit much even in Jefford’s extravagant word-world. But just a moment: We know that Strauss based his opera Salome on Wilde’s eponymous play, and we know what happens to heads in Salome. It all makes perfectly orderly Jeffordian sense. With more, if obliquely, to come. In further defense of Gewurztraminer, Andrew notes that “Perfume is always there to lift the wine, no matter how low it has sunk; that’s what helps it survey the stars from the gutter.” And of its sugar


levels, he observes that “it’s most compelling of all in the middle. That is where you feast with panthers.” It’s a bit like explaining a joke, I know, but if you recognize the gutter and stars image as coming from Wilde’s Lady Windemere’s Fan and the feasting with panthers as Wilde’s code for illicit sex in the seedier suburbs of London, then there is a little frisson of pleasure in that recognition, and you relish the core logic. If not—no matter, there is simply joy in the enriched text. Wilde-related allusions are threaded right through this little tapestry, more or less overtly, but deftly, naturally, and utterly without strain. Andrew frequently takes a central metaphor and runs with it, weaving its filaments through a narrative, bright braids surfacing, more or less discreetly, here and there across the piece. It is very much part of his texture, his technique. It is allusion-rich in information, it is hugely entertaining. Like a gifted concert pianist giving prominence to different musical strands, at different moments, in a multivoiced Bach composition. Comparably skillful and, also similarly,


THE WORLD OF FINE WINE | ISSUE 79 | 2023 | 57


Photography courtesy of Académie du Vin Library


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