Other Fortifieds

This is a vin de liqueur (or mistela if you’re Spanish) – a wine fortified with spirit (often Brandy) to stop fermentation before all the sugar in the grape must is turned into alcohol. Made on the island of Samos, just off the coast of Turkey, it’s an ancient style of wine and grapes been grown there on the sun-drenched, wind-swept terraces for as long as anyone cares to remember. The Greeks love the stuff as do the French (their major export market) but it’s relatively unknown elsewhere.

The wine comes in various guises and under different names – Anthemis for example and Nectar – indicating length of oak ageing but a simple Vin Doux such as this is released when young to capture the fresh floral nature of the variety, Muscat Blanc à Petits Grains. Clear and golden in colour it slides out of the bottle with that slightly viscous quality common to fortified wines. And there on the nose is the Muscat grape in all its glory: meadows of white flowers, honeysuckle, ripe melon and confit apricot. Luckily, the altitude and Aegean winds ensure that there is just enough acidity to keep thing pert.

Although it can be served as a dessert wine, I think it really comes into its own when chilled and taken as an aperitif. I’ve paired it with little pigeon pastillas and it rose to the challenge of the slightly gamey meat, cinnamon and icing sugar with ease. But it would be excellent, too, enjoyed alone in a summer hammock with a chilled slice of cantaloupe melon. And – hold on to your toupée if you have any Greek heritage – it does really well with the splash of tonic/slice of orange/sprig of mint or rosemary approach. Just like its distant white-port cousin. But at a shadow of the cost.

In a similar way to Marsala, it has also carved out a niche for itself in the kitchen, being regularly added to sweet and savoury dishes (I've used it in a tagine with some success). But, again just like its Italian counterpart, it’s a noble old thing that deserves to be enjoyed from the glass as well. In fact, both wines are long overdue a renaissance. Truly, a glass of Samian history.

A unctuous, fragrant wine from one of the oldest Marsala producers in Sicily. A favourite of Garibaldi apparently, hence the name. Dolce is the sweetest of Martinez’s wines and is a blend of white Grillo, Catarratto and Inzolia grapes from around the town of Marsala on the west coast of the island.

Like some other fortified wines, Marsala is made by adding neutral distilled grape spirit to a base wine to increase its alcohol content (typically to between 15 and 20% ABV) thus stopping fermentation with some residual sugar left in the wine. No one-trick pony, Marsala is made in a variety of styles and can spend up to a decade ageing in oak before being bottled. It comes in three colours: Amber, Ruby and Gold. And three sweetness levels: Dry, Semi-Sweet and Sweet.

In this case, hand-picked, super-ripe grapes are fermented with the addition of mistelle, cooked must and alcohol. The wine then spends more than two years in oak casks with ullage (not full and therefore in contact with the air) which gives the wine its characteristic caramelised, oxidative aromas. The process and some of the resultant flavours will be familiar to lovers of Oloroso and medium Sherry and indeed the similarity doesn’t end there as Marsala is often made using a variety of the fractional-blending solera systems (again, like Sherry and Madeira).

Lovely, light amber in colour, Martinez’s wine is all golden raisins, burnt toffee and liquorice from the oxidation process. The nose also has light orangey notes and apricot. As it develops, spicy tones appear – ginger and even the more savoury seeds like fennel and coriander. Really interesting on the palate too, it somehow manages to mix a certain light fluidity with heavy, heady depths. That orangey tang, now heading off into Drambuie-laden Scottish marmalade, and a volatile, spirity quality come through on the palate as well. Warming, like ginger wine. Its closest cousin is undoubtedly Madeira but it’s lower in acidity and the alcohol more present than that comparison might suggest. The finish is quite long, sweet at first (but not cloying) and then resolving into something quite savoury with a herbal, almost vegetal, twang.

Marsala is often used in cooking. And whilst it is lovely in zabaglione and numerous sauces of the classical French (and Italian!) kitchen, don’t dismiss it from the bottle, too. Served chilled, it’s great with creamy or dried-fruit-laden puddings, stollen, panettone, Christmas cake etc. Also wonderful with nutty cheeses like the Alpines.