I recently attended a Conservative Party fundraiser. There. I’ve said it.  Just to be clear,  I will sit through a plague of Coldplay gigs before I ever vote Conservative, but when you’re under a three line whip from your mother-in-law you soon leave your political ideology hanging off the footscraper near the front door.

And besides, the event was held at John Moulton’s country residence in Kent. To the city, John Moulton may be the head of the Venture Capitalist firm Alchemy Partners but to me he’s always been the bloke in the village who has his own vineyard in the field opposite the church. Ah, now can you see where I’m going with this?

Search for John Moulton on Google and you’re sure to find some pretty damning descriptions. An article in the Independent in 2000 described him as the “unacceptable face of capitalism” and, more delightfully, “he looks… not so much as though he would sell his own granny for sixpence but that he would be happy to sell her kidneys to Ford, flog her liver to General Motors and sell the rest for scrap”. Or how about this from an unquoted source, “Some people would say that his main delight is picking the legs off flies”. Blimey.

It was in 2000 that Moulton’s restructuring plan for Rover made him the poster boy of hate for the unions. Now at the  height of financial meltdown Moulton has become the poster boy for straight talking on the economy. Spend half an hour in his company and you’ll hear his grim assessment of the spinelessness of today’s ruling political class.

You’ll also hear him proclaim a need for a “turbo charged Mrs Thatcher” to give the country a dose of shock treatment (rather than say, a Clement Atlee to restructure government for the common good) and a stark statistical overview of why we are a long way from coming out of this recession.

So, a fascinating if slightly frightening man on all matters financial, he is nonetheless full of welcoming enthusiasm and bonhomie when it comes to his burgeoning vineyard. After a tour of his garden taking in solar powered fountains, yellow raspberries and melt in the mouth early summer strawberries he walked me around the vineyard.

Planted in 2004 the grapes are mostly Pinot Noir but there is also a tiny parcel of the little known varietal Seyval, a cool climate grape grown mainly in England but also in the Finger Lakes, upper New York State.

It’s a small plot but, when it’s taken away and blended, there’s enough to produce 300 cases of what he has mockingly labelled ‘Moulton’s Recession Red – a Wine To Remember in a Year to Forget” and a smaller quantity of Shoreham Seyval.

The Moulton wines are labelled  ”UK Table Wine”, which means that at the very least they have to meet a set of requirements set down by the The Wine Standards Board of England and Wales. For the uninitiated, there are three tiers of English wine, at the very top sits the classification “Quality Wine”, then comes “Regional Wine” and finally “UK Table Wine”.

But enough of the technicalities, lets get back to that Recession red label. The full text of which reads:

In the fashionable recession colour and made from grapes grown in rural Kent Despite government regulations and taxations. Serve with whatever food you can afford.

Depending on which way you roll (or whether you still have a job) you may find this funny.

And the price? Well how about a meaty £13.50 a bottle? Yes, £13.50 for  a UK table wine. I don’t know what kind of recession John Moulton is having but clearly it’s a slightly different one to those directly effected by the restructuring and asset stripping that is the darker side of the business this colourful character represents.

Whoops, there I go again. You can take the man out of the commune but you can’t take the Marx out of the man.

And the fundraiser? Well I did buy a raffle ticket so technically I am a now a Tory campaign fund contributor. But hang on. My raffle ticket did come good and I did end up winning, you guessed it, a bottle of Recession Red. So, with an investment of £1 for the raffle ticket and a return of £13.50 for the bottle of wine I actually made a net gain of £12.50.  Which technically makes me a Tory campaign fund stealer.

Hang on, I made a profit out of other peoples labour?. Maybe I am a venture capitalist after all.

This weekend’s Financial Times carried a full page reader offer for 2004 Chateau Langoa-Barton with the by-line “Awarded 90 points by Robert Parker, this wine is not to be missed”. The rating of 90 recalled to mind an article by professional cynic John C Dvorak who describes a 90 point Parker rating as “the chicken shit ranking”.

Spin the wheel, close your eyes and stick the tail on the donkey!

Parker’s rating system has rightly been described by Dvorak as both “genius” and “ludicrous” (see full interpretation below) but I’m more interested in the relevance of Robert Parker to the modern consumer rather than the much commented upon limitations of the 100 point scale.

Today, the world of wine comment and wine criticism is a vastly different place than that occupied by Parker in his prime. Then Parker was seen as the consumer advocate in a landscape dominated by vested interests of the trade. Now, as consumers, our knowledge is deeper and richer; our exposure to choice is unprecedented; and our access to information about the wine we drink is limited only by our connectivity.

Most importantly,  it’s my contention that the way that we are making our wine choices is moving away from the recommendations of professional critics towards endorsement by peers who share our tastes.

Take the impact of social media as an example. Since I signed up to twitter I’ve been exposed to wine recommendations from winemakers, enthusiasts and hobbyists. I’ve made connections with people who’ve been enthusiastic about the wine I’m drinking and followed reciprocal recommendations – if they like what I’m drinking, chances are our tastes are similar so why not give their recommendations a try?

I don’t need a rating system, I don’t need an intricate tasting note (140 character limitation anyone?) but what I do need is conversation, believability and passion. This post is not a rallying cry for the democratization of comment as God only  knows there’s an awful lot of drivel out there.

However, now that the consumer has access to the means of production they have become content producers in their own right. The networks we are creating, the information we are trading and the new opinion formers we are associating with must provide a genuine challenge to the likes of Parker who continue to run an old school paternal approach to their content – “You pay, we let you read our stuff but hey, don’t bother trying to talk to us we don’t want to know what you think”.

I’ll leave the last word to the inimitable John C Dvorak’s and his personal interpretation of the Parker points system:

100 - No such thing. Theoretically impossible as far as I’m concerned. It means total perfection. Used by Parker to get attention and mock the industry.

95 -99 Great wine that should be purchased under any circumstance. Fabulous product that an idiot could spot.

91-94 Not absolutely sure how good these wines really are but they could be great. The difference between 91 and 94 has nothing to do with the wine and everything to do with the confidence level of the taster. Unfortunately, over-confident “greatest wine ever from this Chateau” tasters such as James Suckling (Wine Spectator) always boost the number too far. Whatever the case, these wines are recommended. Parker is always more accurate in this range than Wine Spectator.

90 This is the chickenshit ranking. It means the tasters are scared to rank this wine higher — they may be wrong. On the other hand they can’t take a chance on ranking at as a 89 either. This rating really means: try it yourself and YOU be the judge.

86-89 Gosh, the wine is drinkable. It might be good. We may be wrong. Beyond that who knows?

81-85 You have to be real thirsty and hard up to drink from this group. The 85 rating means you can probably choke it down in a pinch.

75-80 Wouldn’t want to even open a bottle!! below 75 Can we be sued for saying what we really think?

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