Mionetto Valdobbiadene Prosecco Extra Dry, Italy NV (£14.90, Golden Wines) In the world of sparkling wine, there’s a distinct class divide. At the top, you have the aristocrats of Champagne who believe fine sparkling wine can only be achieved by the so-called méthode champenoise, in which the wine is given its second fermentation in the bottle. These nobles of fizz tend to look down, perhaps with a tinge of jealousy, on the Italian winemakers behind prosecco, who have secured enormous success with wines made using the inarguably cheaper, less labour-intensive charmat method, where the second fermentation takes place in large, pressurised tanks. I prefer to see the differences in each as a matter of style rather than quality or class: and there are times when the sherbet-frothy softness of a good prosecco, such as Mionetto’s, is exactly what I’m after.
Bramble Hill Sparkling Wine, England NV (£16, Marks & Spencer) The whole tank v bottle distinction may come across as a bit ‘narcissism of small differences’ to the casual drinker. But it matters a great deal to those involved. It’s certainly a live issue in the fast-evolving UK wine scene, for example, where the emergence of a new wave of charmat-method wines has offended the sensibilities of many representatives of the existing sparkling wine scene. The worry for the established British names, such as Nyetimber, Gusbourne and Ridgeview, is that their hard-won reputation for high-quality, Champagne-rivalling bottle-fermented fizz will be dragged down by what they see as a cheap and cheerful imitator riding on their coattails. Personally, I can’t see the problem of broadening England’s vinous offer to take in more affordable sparkling bottles – provided it’s clear on the label, so we know what we might expect when we open a soft-and-easy, English charmat fizz, such as Bramble Hill.
Chapel Down A Touch of Sparkle, Kent, England 2021 (£19.99, or £17.99 as case of six, Majestic) There’s a certain amount of snobbery in all this, but they both feel superior to a practice they feel is completely beyond the pale – carbonation. You can understand why: so much of wine’s mystique is based on the idea that it is a natural product, that good wine is just grapes with nothing added or taken away. Carbonating – injecting carbon dioxide – therefore feels like cheating somehow, as well as placing wine in the same sort of category as Coke or – the horror! – lager. There’s also the sense that carbonation is a way of making a poor still wine just-about-drinkable. As someone who has been known to turn a limp sauvignon blanc into an acceptable summer evening aperitif by the simple means of giving it a quick puff on a SodaStream, I’m perhaps rather more amenable to the practice than some. Even so, I reckon Kentish producer Chapel Down’s punchy, exotically fruited blend of bacchus and chardonnay is good enough to give carbonation a better name.
Follow David Williams on Twitter @Daveydaibach
