Romancing the wine

AFTER a 10-year romance, marriage and the birth of the first baby, passion struck

AFTER a 10-year romance, marriage and the birth of the first baby, passion struck. And like any lovers in the grip of a tumultuous affair, they enjoy unpicking the chronology. It was 1992, their first real holiday in France. Somewhere north of Cognac, they stumbled across an elderly producer of Pineau de Charentes - a drink they had never even heard of. He was full of zeal, showing them around and opening bottles for them to taste. "He was so absolutely ... passionate. It was at that moment that the whole thing really started in a serious way," they say now. Roisin de Buitlear, the glass-maker, and Terry Greene, a partner in Dublin's Design Factory haven't been the same since.

In the four years since the Meeting on the Road to Saintes, with its revelatory message, they have immersed themselves in wine - reading about it, tracking it down in out-of-the-way places, drinking it, of course, and even sacrificing a chunk of their Ranelagh kitchen to create a special store room. "The lock on the door makes a loud clunk," Roisin says. "Every time I hear it, I know Terry has been out cruising the wine shops again. He has to go out looking all the time or he gets fidgety." He admits to scouring the shelves of numerous shops every week, memorising prices and vintages and rarely leaving empty-handed.

Neatly arrayed on his own custom-built shelves are interesting bottles of all descriptions, with a heavy sprinkling of big names - Margaux and Palmer, Yquem and Gruaud Larose, Leoville-Lascases and the last few that remain of Chateau La Lagune 1982 - the first major splurge. "That was another defining moment, Terry says. "It was during our second holiday in France - and it was the biggest purchase of my life. It was £18 a bottle, but it would have cost about £45 a bottle here."

Like all genuine enthusiasts, they aren't snobbish or ostentatious about wine, and are as excited about some brilliant new discovery at £5.99 as about their top-shelf treasures. Or almost. How did it come about that two pretty average bottle-on-a-Saturday-night wine drinkers hit the level of educated obsession in just a handful of years? Look out for the signposts in the story, because they lead down a road that any wine lover would hugely enjoy.

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In their art college days in the early-1980s, Terry and Roisin were beer drinkers, hanging out in the Bailey - managed at that time by Terry's father Brendan. "Back in those days, if anybody had suggested drinking wine to me, I'd have thought they were crazy," our graphic artist smiles.

Step one: a wedding present from Brendan - a little dresser with wine rack shelves and a case of Louis Jadot Gevrey-Chambertin to take the bare look off it. Step two: a cheap weekend to Paris, and the discovery of a magnificent Art Deco brasserie bear the Opera. "I remember that Terry spent a very long time looking at the wine list," Roisin says. "I ordered a bottle of Beaujolais," he recalls, "and complained to the waiter afterwards that it was too cold. He took us and showed us all the cool presses full of Beaujolais. That was our first lesson.

Like many young couples, they bound their interest blossomed suddenly with parenthood and a curtailed social life. Then came that first taste of how enjoyable a wine-oriented holiday could be. For four years in succession they went to a different French wine region - each time drinking in vast amounts of knowledge along with the samples, and bringing home their full allocation of 120 bottles each. "They probably know us on the boat by now as the only people who set off with an empty roof rack and a half empty ear," Terry says. "Coming back, all our belongings go on the roof so that all the wine can go inside. Roisin must have Sherpa blood - she's the world's best packer."

So enthusiastic are they about their travels - first with one and then with two small boys - that you immediately want to seize their battered copy of The Wine Roads of France by Marc and Kim Millon ("our bible") and duplicate their itineraries down to the last chateau.

After the famous Cognac incident in 1992, they went on to Saint-Emilion, staying in friendly chambres d'hotes, getting useful advice from the Maison des Vins and being treated to their first "vertical tasting" by a local producer. In 1993, still relatively untutored, they went to Sauternes. By the following year they had reached the stage of choosing a gite on a vineyard in Provence, visiting leading estates like Domaine Trevallon and Domaine Tempier and in Terry's ease, helping with the harvest. "That really gave me a feel for the skill and effort and love that goes into wine," he says.

They were hooked and had all their homework done when they arrived in the Lot Valley in 1994 - ready to explore the pleasures of Cahors, Bergerac and Monhazillac.

By this time, they had also begun to learn about wine in a structured way, taking a course at Findlaters and joining a blind tasting group in Rathmines. Nothing strange about that, but it is unusual enough for somebody like Terry, completely unattached to the wine trade, to whistle through the Certificate, Higher Certificate and Diploma Part I exams of the Wine and Spirit Education Trust.

Why this burden of organised learning? He grins. "I just can't soak up enough information about wine. That's the bottom line."

Their careers heighten specific aspects of the enjoyment they derive from the all-consuming hobby. Terry is drawn to the design of the labels, Roisin to the sensual pleasure of drinking from hand-blown glasses. All this is secondary, however, to the central pleasure of cooking for friends and uncorking something special. "Terry is not a hoarder of wine," Roisin notes approvingly. "He loves to share it with other people who might enjoy it."

Where will the wine route lead next? Italy, far sure ("We love north Italian wines"), and Jerez ("We're mad about sherry"), and Madeira ("super stuff"), but France, in the end, has the edge.

"I don't want to shock my work partners too much," Terry muses, "but it, in a few years time, I were to end up in a vineyard somewhere in the south of France, I'd be happy.