Vin de Terroir
At the risk of making this look like a computer screen saver, in which country do you think this vineyard is?
When researching this week’s blog I came across this definition of Vins de Terroir:
“These are the wines where the winemaker strives to somehow capture and reflect in the wine the inherent qualities of the site from which it derives, as well as the characteristics of the vintage, and by extension the great complexity and intelligence of Nature itself.” https://www.bonnydoonvineyard.com/wine-quality-talking-the-elusive-vin-de-terroir-blues/
Replace ‘wine’ with ‘blog’ and add ‘Society’ to ‘Nature’ and you will understand what this blog is trying to achieve.
Terroir moved into its current habitat in the autumn of 1985. Not long after, on a summer walk in our new landscape, we climbed the scarp slope of the North Downs above Dorking. On the way up, the once extensive views to the south were hidden by frequent clumps of woodland and scrub – hawthorn, spindle, holly, dogwood, old man’s beard, hazel, field maple, oak, ash – which had grown up on former, species rich, chalk downland turf, following the cessation of traditional stock grazing in the 1940s and, later, a severe reduction in rabbit numbers caused by myxomatosis. On reaching a crest, with a potential view a few tantalising metres away, we were surprised to find a substantial deer fence crossing our path and a rather formidable, self-closing, deer proof gate permitting access to whatever lay beyond. This was not a traditional part of the 1980s downland experience.
We pushed through the gate, rounded a corner and looked down the slope below us. Sure, there was a view and for certain there was no woodland, but something totally unexpected was growing immediately below us in neat rows. Puzzled, we examined the numerous, identical small plants. Looking at each other, we mouthed the astonishing words, ‘grape vines!’. Someone had climbed this hill and planted – a vineyard! Today, of course, the Denbies vineyard above Dorking is one of the largest in the UK and also one of the largest in Europe. It is now a local ‘destination’ with gift shop, restaurant, guided tours and tastings. But back then, Surrey and vineyards were still relative strangers.
The history of wine in Britain is not a consistent one. Many people associate the modern explosion of English and Welsh wines (Scottish grape vineyards are still a rarity) with climate change and warmer temperatures, but I would suggest that other issues are also relevant. If I am wrong, I hope the specialist sommeliers, vintners and viticulturists amongst you will put me right.
A website called ‘The History of English Wines’ (sorry Wales) (http://www.english-wine.com/history.html) is helpful. This site, and other internet searches, suggest the following:
Iron Age – wines probably imported; maybe this indicates developing taste buds but perhaps a lack skill and/or technology
Roman invasions – everyone seems to agree that the Romans brought wine to the British Isles, but not all agree that they also introduced vineyards.
The Norman Conquest – documentary evidence suggests that vineyard technology didn’t necessarily come over with William the Conqueror, but was already here to meet him. On the other hand, many agree that the number of vineyards (and presumably consumption of wine) increased significantly post conquest. No surprises there, then. The Hull Domesday Project (http://www.domesdaybook.net/domesday-book/data-terminology/manors/vineyard) reports ‘vineyards recorded at 45 places in Domesday Book, 32 of these in Great Domesday, all in south-eastern England’. Interestingly, ‘The History of English Wines’ suggests that, ‘At the time of the compilation of the Domesday Survey in the late eleventh century, vineyards were recorded in 46 places in southern England, from East Anglia through to modern-day Somerset’. But whatever the geographical spread, the crown, the nobility and the monastic orders are felt to have had the monopoly.
Late Medieval to 17C – a period of significant decline. Theories include the acquisition (mid 12C) of wine producing Aquitaine by the English crown, worsening weather in England, and the dissolution of the monasteries.
17C to 19C – during this period of exploration (in Europe and across the globe) and of scientific development and enterprise, many of the nobility started to experiment with vines and, presumably, wine making. Famous names include Lord Salisbury at Hatfield House (17C), the Hon. Charles Hamilton at Painshill, in Surrey (18C), and the Marquess of Bute at Castell Coch near Cardiff (19C). I wonder which was more important, the kudos of a vineyard, the quality of the wine or, in the case of Castell Coch, the revenue potential?
1920 to 1950 – this seems to have been a bit of a dry patch.
1950s to present day – a quiet revolution. Huge steps forward in the science of viticulture seem to have enabled the harnessing of English soils, topography and climate to great effect. Success isn’t guaranteed, of course, and poor scientific decision making, bad weather, disease and lack of a sustainable approach still create real risks. On the other hand, cultural tastes have changed, with huge increases in wine consumption. In our childhoods, Terroir only ever saw wine at Christmas; now we would drink it every day, if it wasn’t for a ‘healthy’ respect for our livers. Agricultural/horticultural economics and the need for diversification have also, I suspect, promoted the spread of vineyards. Improved business acumen and financial management may well have played a part, too, although I think the delightful quote from ‘The History of English Wines’ is probably also very appropriate: ‘the best way to get a small fortune is to have a large fortune and buy an English vineyard’.
So what impact has the wine industry had on our landscapes, in terms of vineyards? How many are there? Estimates for England and Wales have proved hard to pin down but well over 700 in 2019 seems a safe bet, with over 60% of the area located in south east England. Wales, with around 30 vineyards, has 1.5% of total area but the highest predicted level of expansion. How interesting. https://www.winegb.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2020/10/Survey-Report-2020-FULL-FINAL.pdf So far, I’ve found no reliable figures for value of production (but probably well over a £100 million) nor for the impact of leaving the EU.
So my next question (thanks to lockdown restrictions), is what did the Romans and Normans ever do for the Surrey wine landscape? I will leave it up to you to decide what the Surrey terroir did for the taste of Surrey wine.
As I’m sure many of you have guessed, the picture at the top of this blog is of the Denbies Estate. Thomas Cubitt, the builder/architect who changed the face of significant areas of London, bought the estate in 1850, demolished the Georgian house (too cramped), built his own Victorian mansion and planted a great many trees. Sadly he had little time to enjoy it and the estate passed to his sons when Cubitt died in 1856. Following use of the house as a troop billet in WWII, there were insufficient funds to repair and restore, and the mansion was demolished in the early 1950s. The White family purchased the estate in 1984 and planted a great many vines.
Seen from certain angles, and without the obviously ‘Southern’ train, one might be forgiven for assuming the landscape below was part of a wine region in Germany or France. The serried ranks of summer foliage, autumn grape clusters and bare stems in winter is a familiar site at vineyards the world over. By European standards, Denbies is large, particularly as it is contained within a single estate. And for Surrey, a large vineyard offers a completely new landscape.
Personally, Terroir feels that retention of an, albeit geometric, field pattern, reinforced by the rhythm of the parallel support structures (winter) and vines (summer), which flow down the slope of the Downs, provides a large scale, seasonal drama which complements the topography and surrounding landscape. The details are fascinating, however. Viewed across the rows, rather than down the vine ‘allées’, the large leaves provide a very different but not unpleasant, ruffled, texture, totally unlike the pasture, woodland or even arable landscapes elsewhere in the county. Tell us if you disagree, but at least this is a living, viable (one hopes) and rural landscape, which provides access and enjoyment to a great many people, not to mention a modicum of employment.
Terroir also visited two other east Surrey Vineyards. What a contrast! Here is a much more traditional pattern of small vine growing units, which appear to be more craft based and hand worked. Again the geometry provides an interesting contrast to the local Surrey Hills topography (Godstone Vineyard) and local industry, commerce and proximity to London (the Iron Railway Vineyard). The Iron Railway Vineyard is sandwiched between the route of the early 19C Surrey Iron Railway, and the A23 London to Brighton Road. The ‘Railway’ was a horse-drawn ‘plateway’ (so technically not a ‘rail’way at all) which carried goods such as coal, building materials, and agricultural supplies. The original section linked Wandsworth and Croydon and was then extended to Merstham in 1805. It lasted until 1838, but ironically it became unviable after the opening of a canal, in 1809, between Croydon and London. Terroir felt that both vineyards were a quirky but positive addition to the local landscape, although both were blighted by the noise of the A23 or the M23. Sadly, another northern Surrey phenomenon.
Godstone Vineyard
The Iron Railway Vineyard
But to end on an upbeat note: thanks to all who contributed to Terroir’s landscape lexicon, initiated in last week’s post. I particularly liked the Treorchy word for a gennel or lane: ‘gwli’ (sent via Instagram @terroirlandscape). Unfortunately, as most of Terroir’s Welsh roots are from the north, we are still a little unsure of the pronunciation! Anybody from Treorchy out there?
The Welsh for vineyard is ‘gwinllan’ ie wine yard or wine space, which makes perfect sense. Terroir is now interested in the use of ‘yard’ for both grapes (as in vineyard) and, in some areas, for hops (as in hop yard). As far as we know hop yard is used in Herefordshire and the southern Marches, while ‘hop garden’ is the appropriate word in Kent. Any contributions on that one too?