Diary of a Shopkeeper, 9th February

I continue my A to Z of deli food and drink with the letters M and N.

For any wine merchant, the letter M is easy: it must stand for Malbec. Over the past decade, Malbec has risen in popularity to be our best-selling red wine. The previous king of the château, Shiraz, has slipped back into third place, with Rioja climbing into second. Of those three famous names, one is an outlier, Rioja, because it’s not the name of a grape, but of a region in northern Spain. (Red Rioja is almost all made with the Tempranillo grape.) Malbec and Shiraz are both grape varieties grown all over the world – which of course helps their sales tally up. Despite that, popular appreciation is dominated by specific areas: South Australia for Shiraz, and Argentina for Malbec. Those areas have made the grapes famous, and in return the grapes have made canny winemakers rich.

Malbec didn’t originate in Argentina. Like so much in the world of wine, it was first vinified in France. Historically, it was grown in more than 30 areas across the country, from the Loire in the north to the Languedoc in the south, and has more than 1,000 local names to prove it, from Côt to Quille de Coy.

It’s gradually disappeared from most parts of France, for various reasons, some of them to do with appellation rules about what can be grown where, and some of them bad luck. For example, a great frost in 1956 wiped out three-quarters of the largest Malbec vineyards in Bordeaux; these days you only still see it popping up occasionally as a small part of a Bordeaux blend. Its one surviving stronghold in France is inland and further south, amongst the rolling hills of Cahors. ‘The black wine of Cahors,’ so called for its dense, opaque colour, is well worth seeking out. It tends to be big, bold and tannic – unless the winemakers blend in a bit of Merlot to soften its rough edges. You really need a good meaty cassoulet to show it at its best.

A different clone of Malbec thrives in Argentina, one that was imported from France in the mid-19th century and subsequently died out in its homeland. It also produces deep, dark reds, but they tend to be softer, fruitier and less tannic than the Cahors clone. It’s this user-friendly style that has propelled Malbec to its current popularity. Argentinian Malbec is still a great match for red meat dishes – which may be why it’s so popular here, where we love beef as much as any gaucho. But these days it comes in a range of styles, from unoaked and juicy examples to intense, oak-aged versions as deserving of serious attention as anything from Bordeaux or Cahors. The best region is Mendoza in the foothills of the Andes, but look out too for the emerging cool climate region of Patagonia, a current favourite in our shop.

Malbec is also a good match for strong mature cheese, but probably not for Neufchâtel. This soft, Camembert-like cheese from Normandy is mild and subtle, and is definitely best matched with a crisp white wine like an unoaked Chablis, Sancerre, or even New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc. Good sparkling wine like Champagne is also a perfect accompaniment, which might be just the thing this weekend if you’re celebrating Valentine’s Day, as Neufchâtel comes in a characteristic heart shape. Nothing says romance more than a creamy, crumbly, mould-rind cheese!

Legend has it that the origins of its unique shape go back to the Hundred Years War (1337 – 1453.) Apparently French farm girls made special heart-shaped cheeses to show their love and gratitude to conquering English soldiers. Well, that’s the story. But as this A to Z is meant to present facts rather than fiction, we’ll move swiftly on… What’s certain is that cheese in this style, if not this shape, was already long-established by that time, with written records starting in 1050, and traditions suggesting an origin centuries before that. You could say Neufchâtel is the oldest French cheese still being made, but in fact it’s older than France: when it was invented, what’s now Normandy was still part of the Kingdom of the Franks, ruled over by the Emperor Charlemagne.

It’s a paradox that this delicate cheese, best eaten when it’s young and fresh, is one of the oldest in the world. I know it’s cheesy, but Happy Valentine’s Day! Spread the love…and the Neufchâtel.

This diary appeared in The Orcadian on 13th February 2025. A new diary appears weekly. I post them in this blog a few days after each newspaper appearance, with added illustrations, and occasional small corrections or additions.