Part 1: Confessions of a Chinese Wine Consultant(2)
When we touched down in Beijing in January 2007, then, it was with a sense of excitement and trepidation. Previous visits to the capital had enabled us to gauge what was available wine-wise in various spots, off- and on-trade. But the sheer expense of most everyday drinking wines, add import costs plus about 48% tax from three separate local taxes, hardly made, on first glance, for a wine lover’s paradise. One of our very first pieces of journalism here was, in fact, on getting the most out of your QPR (quality price ratio) which usually means going to New World producers. In China this is especially the case because of the frankly baffling prices that pertain to anything French (regardless of quality).
Also, if you consider that some pretty undrinkable Chinese wines can retail from anywhere between 40-600RMB (or staggeringly daft sums above that generous bracket), with a fair slew being in the middle at say 100RMB, and you then consider that some everyday Aussie and Chilean wines also retail around 100-120RMB, then, well, it’s a no-brainer. Most Chinese wines, blended with bulk imports or made from genuinely Chinese grapes only, are just not up there quality-wise and the Chinese buy them for essentially gift-giving (what a gift!) or patriotic reasons. Will this last as people actually get palates for themselves? That’s a question which still isn’t answered as things develop predictably slowly over here. And there are only a handful of Chinese wineries that will be able to compete in terms of quality.
But I suppose the first thing that struck us, really, was just how damn dry the Beijing air is in winter time (and autumn, it transpires). I’d never actually been to China’s capital during winter, so this came as something of a shock. Even the most cosmetic-resistant of males has got to admit that without moisturizer it is not really possible to survive a Beijing winter unless one actually wants to look like some of the delectable dried products gracing Beijing’s market stalls. Beijingers actually buy humidifying machines during the autumn and winters months to deal with the problem (a far cry from my father’s UK cellar where a de-humidifier is required).
Which raised a question:
what was happening to wines under cork on already warmly and brightly lit supermarket shelves in an environment so dry most people don’t open metal doors or touch elevators buttons with their fingers for fear of getting massive static shocks?!
What indeed, When two pairs of hard-leather shoes cracked magnificently along the toe-line a few months later, I knew the Beijing winter was nothing to mess with. But thankfully there were already a few promising wine tastings to be had around town and emails coming in about winemaker dinners and other wine-related events. Something was up.
