To bring or not to bring wine: that is the question
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In Abigail's Party, Mike Leigh's achingly class-conscious satire of suburban life, Sue arrives at dinner with a bottle of wine in hand. Coming from the old bourgeoisie, she expects supper and duly brings a suitable accompaniment. Unfortunately, the other guests in this leafy fictional corner of London have eaten their 'tea' before arriving and poor Sue is left to starve quietly throughout the rest of the evening.
To bring or not to bring: that is the question. It has been a matter of some debate in recent days, as this newspaper's writers spar over the matter of taking a bottle of wine when invited to supper. For most guests, it is polite and right to pick up a decent bottle on the way to dinner, not only as a thank you but as a way of helping to ensure a suitably lubricated and lively evening.
But for others, especially those of an aristocratic persuasion, it is unthinkable to go equipped. Bringing a bottle would reveal a fear that the host will not crack open their cellars and share their rare vintages with anyone but themselves. For the truly posh, arriving empty-handed is a vote of confidence in the hosts. It presumes they have paired their food with suitable wines and the delicate balance struck should not be interfered with.
• Rosé has peaked, say French wine makers as focus shifts to white
This summer's wine hit provides an easy solution to this social dilemma. Frequent visitors to their local supermarket's wine section will recognise the distinctive label of La Vieille Ferme, the affordable drop from the southern Rhône valley. Referred to by cost-conscious Gen Zers as 'chicken wine', thanks to the farmyard poule adorning its label, the brand has gone viral in recent weeks, its rosé regarded as the perfect summer quaff. Any host will appreciate a bottle or two of old cluck — not, of course, for dining but as a simple, unpretentious offering that can be stashed in the fridge for deployment on a lazy afternoon. Problem solved.
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