Keeling Dan - Noble Rot Book: Wine from Another Galaxy

CONTENTS

A BLACK ASTON MARTIN pulls into The Sportsman car park and peoples heads turn. Although the pub has a car park full of smart cars, and even helicopters are known to land in the field opposite, peoples heads are always turned by an Aston. Someone from front-of-house comes into the kitchen and points out that the occupant of the passenger seat is my cousin Naomi. That comes as no surprise because Naomi is funny, smart and has a cool job in the music industry. She was always going to drive around in a car like that. Wanker, we say to the male half of the golden couple as they walk past the window. Its nothing personal; its how we deal with other peoples success in England.

I was busy cooking so all I heard was, Blah blah blah, head of Island Records, signed Coldplay, and didnt think anything more of it. A few Christmases later and my Uncle Hugh, Naomis dad, has organised a big family gathering at the pub. Its there that I first speak to Dan Keeling, and realise that hes into wine. I meet lots of people who are into wine and once weve discussed Burgundy producers, Im usually disappointed. Its no different to talking about bands. If you liked the New York Dolls, I would test you on Downliners Sect. If you knew them, we could be friends. But every time I threw out a name he knew who I was talking about.

Raveneau.

I love the way they use old oak barrels to give their Chablis a bit of richness without making it taste like high-toast young Puligny.

Rousseau.

Lovely old school in a really good way. Although their Clos de la Roche is overrated.

I couldnt shake him. His wine knowledge was really good and he dropped all the right restaurant names. I took him into my cellar and showed him my stash: Cathiard, Leroy, Leflaive all the other names. The names that tell me someone thinks along the same lines as me. You see, it wasnt about the price back then these wines were 40 a bottle at most it was about the right producers, just as it used to be about the right bands. As the years went by, the record industry tanked and Dan found something else to do. He decided to start a wine fanzine with his friend Mark Andrew. I didnt want to be a doom-monger, but when he asked if I would contribute it felt mean to point out that Id contributed to the first issue of another friends food fanzine that had failed. It simply wasnt a model that could work. I expect that youve rumbled that the fanzine was Noble Rot, and so what do I know?

As youll see in this book, they write about the wines they love and want to investigate further, rather than engage in some mutual back-scratching exercise with the industry. Id become cynical about much wine writing because it seemed that many journalists were close to the producers, and much was left unsaid in exchange for continued access. I dont care if a ngociant has made a trip financially possible; I want to know whether their wines are up to snuff. I want to read the honest, raw but poetic thoughts of a couple of very knowledgeable wine obsessives, and this is what Noble Rot and now Wine from Another Galaxy gives me.

Dan introduced me to Mark, and I had never met anyone who spoke about wine with such clarity, enthusiasm and knowledge. He has a rare ability, in the wine world, to wear his vast knowledge lightly, and it comes all wrapped up in an attractive Mancunian accent. I shouldnt have been surprised when he became a Master of Wine. Other people I knew had looked at that particular cliff face and not even attempted to climb it, but not Mark.

On regular visits to The Sportsman the two Rotters introduced me to the wines of the Jura Id been cooking with Vin Jaune for years but had missed the rise of this previously unfashionable region and taught me new names such as Ganevat, Overnoy and Tissot. The magazine went from strength to strength as Dan got better writers to contribute and by issue five I was really impressed. I trusted their knowledge and was learning so much about different regions that it became a treat when the new issue turned up a bit like waiting for the new NME to arrive back in the 70s. They started to win awards and I thought that was it.

Then one day the phone rang. Hi Steve, its Dan. We want to open a Noble Rot wine bar. I thought: Oh Jesus, why ruin everything? But instead said: Let me know when you do and Ill help with the food cos you might fuck it up. I assumed a wine bar couldnt be that tricky; some good olives, ham and bread, and that should do. Then the phone rang again: Hi Steve, its Dan. Weve found an 85-cover Parisian-style restaurant and wine bar thats perfect, but its going to have to be proper to make it pay. This was the last thing I wanted to hear, but I couldnt have Naomi married to the owner of a failed restaurant.

I introduced Dan and Mark to Paul Weaver who would become head chef, and came up with some ideas to angle the food towards the wine. The first week was stressful, as all launches are, but all they needed from me was a bit of guidance. I was very proud of the wine list, as it didnt just concentrate on the top names. Every wine was real and carefully considered. Its easy to put together your fantasy list with endless vintages of the greats that nobody can afford, but can you come up with one thats good value? Great wines from less fashionable areas are there to be found, but few can be bothered to find them.

Every time I walk into Noble Rot I get a good feeling. Theyve gone from strength to strength, winning awards left, right and centre: best wine list at the National Restaurant Awards three years in a row, and even a gong at the World Restaurant Awards. They are always thinking up new ideas and I find it hard to keep up with what they want to do next. Indeed, just this week the phone rang again. Hi Steve, its Dan. Were writing a book would you mind?

Stephen Harris, Seasalter, Kent, 2020

Dan Keeling (left) and Mark Andrew.

IM NOT SURE whether I believe in a single moment of revelation that sparks a fascination with wine. Such epiphanies often sound overly romanticised when, more likely, its an ongoing series of everyday illuminations that inspires vinous thirst. Indeed, as you read these words somebody, somewhere is in the magnificent shock of a wines perfume. Because even if you think you know that Barolo smells of roses and tar, or Chablis tastes like it has trickled through ancient oyster beds, great bottles always have an originality that begs the question: how can this be made just from grapes? But while I wont point to one moment when wine blossomed from being just another avenue of inebriation into an eye-rolling, table-thumping, multi-dimensional, holy-mother-of-Christ-I-love-this experience, I can say that one of many powerful early insights for me was the way 2005 Ridge Lytton Springs combined savouriness with ultra-vivid fruit.

At the time I was working in music as Managing Director of Island Records on Kensington High Street in London, having recently been enticed away from a job as Head of A&R (artist and repertoire) at rival label Parlophone. Things were going swimmingly, or so it seemed. I just needed to find some new multi-million-selling talent, and fast. So, I did what any under-pressure, overpaid 30-year-old in their right mind would do, and began spending more of my time in Roberson, the wine merchant next door. Although far from knowledgeable, Id always had an inkling, as you probably do, that there is something extraordinary waiting to be discovered in wine, and I was encouraged in my explorations by my friend Nick Burton, who managed the shop and gave me the Ridge, and Mark Andrew, a young Mancunian he employed.