What?

Londoners hearing these names will instantly think ‘Davy’s’; the rest of the world will be utterly bemused. Explanations later. If you’re planning to visit London, though, read on.

Wine bars get little media coverage nowadays. They’re useful, though – if you want to meet someone in a quieter location than most pubs, if you want to drink better wine than the branded yawn served in pubs, but if you don’t want to spend as much as in most restaurants (or fashion bars).

Davy’s has 37 bars scattered around London (details on http://www.davy.co.uk/main.asp?tid=). I often use them; I like them. Londoners fill them … but I’ve never seen many tourists in them. This has always perplexed me, since everything about them is designed to evoke a kind of lost Dickensian London. Sawdust on the floor, barrels and bottles furnishing the walls; strange little offices and alcoves; splendidly retro signage about ‘segars’ and snuff; and of course the names themselves. City Flogger? A flogger was a tool used to knock a cork into a bottle or to hit the stave of a cask in order to remove the bung. Chopper Lump? Used to join the barrels of a gun. You’ll also find a City Boot, a Gyngleboy, a Lees Bag, a Mughouse, a Tappit Hen … They should be as familiar a part of the tourist trail as Tate Modern and the London Eye. You can drink wine; you can eat plain food; you can also drink a beer called Old Wallop out of metal tankards. Who wouldn’t want to drink Old Wallop out of metal tankards in a sawdust-strewn railway arch called Skinkers at least once in their life? It’s even next door to the London Dungeon, for heaven’s sake...

A tankard of Old Wallop
Anyway, I caught up with James Davy recently at the rather posher Davy’s at St James’ (in Crown Passage, just off Pall Mall; very handy for Berry Bros) recently. James is the fifth generation of his vintner family, having taken over from his Dad in 1997, and he’s a jolly nice chap. I enjoyed the couple of hours we spent together, talking about the bars and trying a few wines. He tells me there are ‘new style’ bars joining the estate – WITHOUT SAWDUST – but I trust dangerous innovations of this sort will not be adopted with undue haste. A trial period of two or three decades, perhaps?

Recent years have been tough for Davy’s (the estate was up to 48 bars at its peak about five years ago), and gastropubs have begun to eat into its turf. Some folks, apparently, don’t like going down into a basement, so the estate has now elevated itself to 40% ground level.

Ok: so what about the wine? If I have a major bone to pick with Davy’s, it’s that the wine list is never quite a long or as interesting as I like. When I think of what a great enoteca can be in Italy, for example, or the franco-anglais Willy’s and Juvenile’s in Paris (both 1ere arrondissement), then Davy’s … is a couple of leagues down.

James Davy under St James’s
James’s first line of defence is that there is an extended fine wine list in about 10 bars. True. Cloudy Bay Sauvignon at under £40, Pontet Canet `98 at under £50 and Cockburn `63 at under £100 show that the value is keen, but it’s not very lengthy. His second line of defence is that it’s not possible to keep quality up across 37 bars with a long and rambling list, especially when almost everything is available by the glass. Fair enough. Even so, there might be ways around it. How about letting the managers of each bar choose six, ten or a dozen wines of their own to serve in that bar alone? Their enthusiasms; their responsibility to keep quality up and make sure that sales justify the choice; their chance to talk with regulars and irregulars and find out what the local clientele likes? Anyway, we tasted most of the list together, and these were the wines I liked most (with by-the-glass prices for a 175 ml glass).

Davy’s Sauvignon (£4.55): clean, fresh, with just enough greenery to divert but not enough to oppress. Food-friendly, too.

Lietz Rudesheimer Riesling Kabinett Dry 2005 (£5.25): deliciously intricate and dry enough for food: well-chosen. The company only sells 200 cases of this a year, compared to 5,000 cases of the Sauvignon. Come on, customers, you can do better! This is wonderful stuff, and worth a £2 premium over the Sauvignon.

Viognier, Domaine Fontenelles 2006 (£5.55): good Viognier, and there are plenty out there than aren’t.

Waipara West Sauvignon Blanc 2006 (£6.55): if you like that NZ style, this is classic (even though Waipara means Canterbury, not Marlborough). The German Riesling is still better, though.

Davy’s French Red No 1 (£3.85): quite a clever blend for a wine bar, putting Gamay into bed with Grenache and Syrah: low tannin and lots of soft fruits.

Davy’s Rioja (£5.35): lie back and enjoy the oak.

Davy’s Finest Claret (£5.35): this is a 2002 sourced from Sichel and is delicious – warm, meaty and supremely drinkable. Chaucer (whose dad, like James’s, was a London vintner) would have loved it.

St Amour, Domaine des Billards 2005 (£5.55): gorgeously juicy Beaujolais, a wine style unique on this earth.

Ventisquero Reserva Pinot Noir 2006 (£6.25): real Pinot. Chile is getting better and better at this.

Ch Brisson 2003, Côtes de Castillon (only by the bottle: £24.95): a great success in this tricky right-bank vintage: voluptuous.

Wines to avoid? I wouldn’t drink the Kendall-Jackson Chardonnay Vintners Reserve if you paid me: £6.15 for a glassful of something which tastes like dissolved boiled sweets. Davy’s Chilean Chardonnay at £5.05 is pretty mechanical and the Chilean Merlot at £5.05 ditto.

The Davy’s Red Burgundy from Voarick at £6 is a touch herbaceous, but better than I expected, and the Davy’s Australian Shiraz at £5.35 is better than the dismal average, too. For once, it isn’t over- acidified, and while the sweet fruit may pall quickly for some, at least the balance ensures it is drinkable.

A couple of final issues: James hates split vintages on the list, so squirmed in anguish when we came to the St Amour, which is “2005/6”. I’m not over-sensitive about this. I rather have a good wine in small lots and ask about the vintage than have something less good which will last longer than one might wish.

But most importantly: how well do the opened wines last under the Vac-u-Vin + gas system used at Davy’s? It was mostly a good showing, though the first sample of Finest Claret was tired and shouldn’t have been on sale: the freshly opened bottle was a world better. The onus is on managers to husband their bottles with requisite scrupulousness. This matters.

What do I normally drink in Davy’s? Easy. Half bottles of Manzanilla at £9.25. Yum!