As I sit down to this humble task of reviewing a bottle of wine, one might wonder why a man of my usual proclivities, more accustomed to the critique of culture, art, and the human condition, would stoop to the level of beverage commentary. Yet, here we are, with a bottle of M&S's Chenin Blanc in hand, a testament to both the democratization of wine and perhaps, the democratization of taste.
The label promises "citrus and tropical fruits", a description so vague it could apply to a fruit salad at a mid-tier hotel breakfast buffet. But, with scepticism as my companion, I pour the golden liquid into a glass, and I am immediately struck by its hue, a reminder of autumn sunsets rather than the harshness of the British winter outside.
The first sip is a revelation, not because it's ground-breaking, but because it's so unpretentiously enjoyable. Here's a wine that doesn't demand you to have a PhD in Oenology to appreciate it. There are notes of lemon, yes, but also a whisper of something akin to mango, if mango had gone on holiday and come back slightly disappointed. It's crisp, clean, and utterly devoid of the bombast one might associate with more self-important vintages.
This Chenin Blanc from Marks & Spencer is the kind of wine one would take to a dinner party hosted by friends who appreciate good company over good wine - a rare breed, these days. It's not the wine you'd discuss at length to impress a sommelier; it's the wine you enjoy while discussing life's more pressing matters, like why British summers seem to have abdicated their traditional duties.
At £7.99, it's a steal, not because it's cheap, but because it offers more than its price tag suggests. It's the kind of wine that makes one ponder the irony of wine snobbery when, at the end of the day, what we all seek is pleasure in a glass, not a lecture on vintages and terroir.
In this age where every glass of wine seems to come with an essay on its heritage and lineage, M&S's Chenin Blanc stands as a beacon of simplicity. It's not about the wine; it's about the moment. And in that moment, this wine does what all good wines should do - it fades into the background, allowing the laughter, the conversation, the joy of good company to take centre stage.
So, here's to you, Marks & Spencer, for producing a wine that reminds us why we drink in the first place. Not for the accolades or the pompous tasting notes, but for the sheer, unadulterated pleasure of a well-spent evening.