UK Vineyards Are Upping Their Game — And You Need To Visit One, STAT
An excursion that will live long in the USB of the mind
London can be polarised to say the least. Culturally expressive and yet simultaneously unwelcoming. Community driven at times, but so sparse and sprawling as well. Growing up in this city, I will always lean favourably towards it when considering my opinion and the times experienced.
Whatever your take, it can’t be denied that London is lively to see the least. There are inordinate amounts going on, that it is so easy to not bother venturing anywhere else with your preciously finite spare time. But deny it as we (Londoners) may, it is highly likely that we will be foregoing potentially equally amazing experiences by restricting ourselves predominantly to urban surrounds.
I’m more than guilty of this. The most audacious I’ve been in my ‘out of London’ day trips in recent years was dragging myself to Kew Gardens, a place I visited periodically as a child on school trips, or upon my mum’s insistence to get my brother and me to shut up during the holidays when her go-to of “let them eat cake and watch screens” ran its unlikely course. Oh, and it pished it down, of course.
Despite this, the tangible benefits of a true escape from whatever conurbation you may find yourself in have never been clearer to me than in recent times. And with the ability to travel abroad still hindered somewhat compared to pre-2020, I fell upon an occasion that combines both this sacred chance to get away, and the love of wine — a blend I’m sure many reading this can get on board with.
English vineyards are really starting to reap what they sow. For a while disregarded by many, the true quality of grapes from these very lands are beginning to shine through like rays of sunlight emerging after a nefarious storm.
And many of these estates are so easy to get to. A mere hop, skip and a jump. Then a walk to the nearest tube. An intrepid navigation of the underground system in the most efficient way possible to get you to one of London’s main train exoduses. Then maybe a taxi at the other end, and you’re there! So easy.
Transport aside (it’s actually not that troublesome, I was just being facetious), such a visit strikes a top balance between freeing yourself from your usual surroundings, bettering yourself with knowledge of a process that fuses nature and a highly skilled craft (in winemaking), and getting a solid amount of booze in the bloodstream.
So here I pay homage to a couple of vineyards near London I had the pleasure of visiting — two that are immeasurably contrasting but similarly striking in their own unique way. I also provide a list of other vineyards at the end that are also well worth the trip.
Yotes Court
Situated in West Peckham (Kent that is, not the west side of Peckham, London — imagine a vineyard in South London though?!), Yotes Court is a thriving operation, that has in recent months started welcoming guests for the first time (however my time of visit preceded this). Our tour fortuitously arose through a man on the inside.
Following a routine journey along a couple of London’s arterial motorways, that played out with the stereotypical undulation of speed as we yo-yo’d through creeping M25 speed cameras, the car behaving in a way that was reminiscent of the amusement rides of Thorpe Park that we had passed a mere moments earlier on the M3, we arrived to the (at the time of writing) unassuming entry of the vineyard.
Greeted from afar with a sturdy wave, head winemaker Tony Purdie swiftly came into view. A man whose stature alone just instantly fills you with assurance. Someone you would look at and could immediately tell they know what the hell they were doing.
Tony’s energetic but concurrently calm manner was a comforting welcome. With the starter course of pleasantries exchanged, we soon got into the thick of it and amongst the rows of vines.
As we made tracks uphill, Tony met every question we gushingly stumbled over with a warming acceptance, as if we actually remotely knew anything (it was more likely that each question was as dense as the last, but you couldn’t have told from his willingness to entertain us).
Once atop the plot of land, looking down, the vines cascaded in perfect symmetry along a serene south-facing slope, where free-draining soil full of chunks of Kentish ragstone prove fruitful grounds for grape cultivation. The varietals profiting from the alignment of said elements are principally Chardonnay, Pinot Noir and Pinot Meunier (constituting 80% of the estate) are dutifully supplied as a contract grower to one of this country’s esteemed producers, in Chapel Down.
Of real interest though is the remaining 20%, where pockets of Bacchus, Pinot Blanc and Pinot Gris are now coming good after their planting three years prior, with the inaugural estate wine of the vintage 2020 released in the first half of 2021.
After being willingly enlightened of the aforementioned topography, conversation of course turned to the harvest: a strong year with steady conditions over a particularly warm May and June that establish a good basis for the early growth periods. The multitude of varietals in these humble surrounds were well on course, and had just been treated to visit to the barbers (the vines had been trimmed slightly to concentrate grape growth).
Our high-school-esque swooning of this man’s oenological encyclopedia being freely poured out to us then began being faintly tainted by the sound of rain gently bouncing off the vine canopy. An ominous arrival that soon transformed the omnipotent wine knowledge we were profiting from, into biblical-esque meteorological sightings.
What followed could only be described as a weather occurrence of Eddie Hall like power. As we scampered to — and cowered beneath — the workmens’ shack that was akin to a shelter you’d have to attempt building on a year 7 activities-orientated school trip, I suddenly had the urge to ask one of the thickest questions that has ever come to me in my 28 years (and I was a thick kid — for context, I once knowingly dove headfirst off of a sofa onto a hardwood floor, for laughs).
In spite of the vociferous storm playing out in front us, Tony’s optimism still shone through, even when I rather cack-handedly asked the man — whose livelihood revolves around the nurturing of the fruit in front of us — that was at that very moment taking an absolute pounding, as to whether these meteorological phenomena “s*** him up”, he expressed a rather zen approach. Tony tended to avoid getting stressed anymore about the effects that such events could have on his crop, even prophesising that the vertical nature of the hail falling assured him it would all be okay. What. A. Bloke.
As it became evident that the torrential downpour was not merely a fleeting appearance, one of the vineyard workers gallantly spun past to get us back to safety. Despite the dash to the van being only a few metres, it looked as if we’d lost the plot and walked through one of those industrial-sized car wash machines. Add to that the sound of hail pelting off the roof that resembled a Gatling gun taking aim at us, and owing to the vehicle steaming up providing us with about as much visibility as a white-out in the Alps, it was in all a starkly contrasting (but patently memorable) end to an immensely pleasant tour.
Worse yet though was the dart from the van to our car. With swift but eternally grateful goodbyes paid to Tony and his colleague, I wisely launched myself into what can only be described as a massive f-off lake (puddle) before collapsing into the car. It took us 10 minutes of heaters on blast before even remotely considering moving off.
When we did, the scenes along the country road out were carnage. The sheer amount of surface water run-off prompted my dad to very aptly comment that we’d be better off getting down it in a canoe.
And so metaphorical canoe afloat, we persevered. Our drive onwards was a ‘Madeleine de Proust’ of some sorts for me. Memories of driving home from rugby tournaments as a child, the car being battered by rain, soaked to the skin, heating to maximum.
As we glided below the motorway overpasses, the incandescent noise of rain temporarily cutting out, evoking memories of a DJ cutting the track to create suspense, it suddenly came to me: I really needed some wine.
Bolney Estate
It was at the Bolney Estate where it was really made visible in my mind that there are few other experiences that marry nature and indulgence together so meticulously.
Despite our slightly tardy arrival (owing to M25 flooding — thanks England), we were reluctant to move hastily on from the first glimpses of this venerable vineyard. A seemingly new and purpose-built welcome centre brought with it an air of obvious commercial success and yet still held an element of history, reflective of the natural surroundings from which the business growth has been beholden to.
In the tasting room, socially distanced tables were adorned with our tasting glasses and reading material. Following a brief history of the estate (the first vines were planted in 1972, and the operation is now led by the inimitable Sam Linter, daughter of the estate’s founders), we seamlessly made our way out to the vines. Each party was encouraged to pick a row of vines to meander up, akin to choosing one’s lane at a vinous-themed adult sports day.
We migrated from vineyard to warehouse, in which our erudite tour guide expertly detailed the fermentation process. The setup was pretty tidy to say the least, and really gave the impression that English wine is going places if Bolney is anything to go by.
After a solid 45 minutes of being informed of the prestigious winemaking (and already aggressively dehydrated from the aforementioned harrowing storm and journey to Bolney), I was more than ready to get into finished product. To the tasting room we went.
The entrée was a refreshing rosé sparkling, followed by a further bubbly — both of decent quality. Many UK vineyards take up position in sparkling wines as the cooler temperatures we generally experience here lend themselves best to grapes used in these types of production, and ensures a high level of acidity is retained when it comes to fermentation (a key to facilitating sparkling wine production).
Tellingly though, Bolney Estate have for many years looked to pioneer in different verticals, which gave way to the Pinot Noir we then got amongst. A first for me (English Pinot Noir that is), and memorable for many reasons. The colour was closer to cranberry juice than your staple red, but the standard was far and above that of any old bottle. A real treat.
Better yet was the Bacchus — a German grape that has recently been thriving over here. If you’re a Riesling raver, then this will really be a bit of you (I had to buy three bottles after just to make sure I really did like it).
The spectacle was then expertly tied together with the estate’s 2016 Blanc de Blancs — a sparkling wine akin to Champagne, but in my honest opinion a bottle that comfortably eclipsed most wines I’ve tried in recent years from the revered French region.
In all, I hope these recounts of vineyard visits will encourage you to pay a visit to such an establishment. The excursion was one that will live long in the USB of the mind, so I thoroughly urge you to do so given the perceptible ease of access to plenty of English and Welsh vineyards.
Below you can find a number of other vineyards whom are renowned for putting a decent show on.
Other recommended vineyards:
Hambledon | 1hr train from London Waterloo to Petersfield, followed by a 15 minute taxi
Rathfinny | 1hr15m train from London Victoria, followed by a 15 minute taxi
Oxney | less easy to get to, but a lovely visit nonetheless so I’ve been told
Camel Valley | slightly further afield (Cornwall), but well worth it should you find yourself down that way.
