Buy wines of Mischief and Mayhem

"It is our endeavour to produce some of the finest wines that Burgundy can offer - well made, elegant and indvidual wines that epitomise all that is fine about this great region." - M&M

Mischief & Mayhem (M&M) is a new venture in Burgundy that brings the very best of this wonderful region up to date. Founded in 2004, it is a partnership between two old friends from opposite sides of the globe who are united by their passion for the region but also by their recognition of its ability to bring frustration and elation to the consumer virtually in equal measure.

The dynamic duo are Englishman Michael Ragg and Australian Michael Twelftree. The former worked for a decade in the London wine trade but is now in his fourth year as a resident of Aloxe-Corton. The latter is the driving force behind the hugely successful Barossa Valley based wines of Two Hands. With Ragg’s first-hand knowledge of the region and long experience of its wines and Twelftree’s passion for wine and knowledge of international markets, M&M has two gifted and ambitious creative forces behind it.

Rather than attempt to build a domaine by buying land, M&M sources its fruit and juice from a variety of growers with whom they have built close relationships. The range which we have recently started with comprises of two generics, three village wines and four premiers crus which will all offer excellent early drinking and the option for further cellaring.

The following story epitomises all that we love about our region Burgundy – generosity, complete unpredictability, fun, lack of formality, chaos, traditionalism and individuality.

About a year after our move to Burgundy, Fiona and I decided it would probably be a good move to invite a few people over for dinner. We had worked hard at developing relationships with a number of growers and felt that it was an opportune moment to push things along a little further. We were on the verge of creating Mischief and Mayhem and cementing a few relationships professionally was critical, yet getting to know people personally was perhaps even more important. We felt pretty confi dent that we could put together something pretty special – Fiona is a classically trained chef, so between us we sat down and devised a menu.

Hindsight is not awfully useful but even with its dubious benefits I look back on the episode and wonder what the hell we thought we were up to. What we should have done was hack a large cheese to pieces, open two dozen bottles of wine and leave everyone to it. What we actually did was this….

The evening was due to kick off at 8.30pm but by 9.30pm people were only just arriving. The majority of guests were winemakers and as is customary they bought along a selection of their respective wines, generally 6-8 bottles per person although one chap bought a case. Corkscrews were located and bottles were opened.

Within three minutes it was apparent, that getting guests to table was going to be virtually impossible – my “if you’d care to sit downs” were being bleated at regular intervals but with no effect. It was already clear that conceptually the “formal dinner” wasn’t going to be working. Fiona decided to serve the starter and main course simultaneously – a good call which ensured that everyone was sat down for a total period of nearly 10 minutes. Where was the cabbage? Surely, being English, we must have prepared cabbage? Where were the sprouts? Puzzlement followed by hilarity.

Numerous bottles were poured – tasting opinions were informed and forthright. Music was turned on and the volume was cranked – “did we have any Johnny Hallyday?” The Smiths, The Charltans and the Foo Fighters were all deemed to be inappropriate by our guests, and were tossed aside, but then someone found the ACDC. This went well, so well in fact that my speakers were blown up – they had survived three chaotic student years in Manchester, yet they were no match for the guy from whom we now source the fruit for our Meursault.

It was only when the cheese appeared that people sat up and took notice. Admittedly, being a little bloody minded, I’d thrown in a chunk of English cheddar too but despite this, the cheeses were deemed a great success (they were French obviously) and a credit to any table. It appeared that we’d fi nally turned a corner.

The atmosphere was as convivial as one would expect at 2.45am but a further problem lay ahead – the selection of digestifs. Cognac, Calvados and Armagnac were apparently inappropriate. Where was the marc de Bourgogne? We didn’t have any, but... “They are Eengleesh”, explained one guest helpfully. In any event, this lack of marc de Bourgogne would not do and someone pottered back to his home to get some. He returned with a special bottle which was 50 years old, a stunning amber colour and, on tasting, just as ideally suited to inducing blindness as nearly every other marc that we’ve tasted.

The marc de Bourgogne signalled the end to the formal part of the evening and to be honest, subsequent events remain a little hazy. Other bottles were tasted and I do recall a lengthy and detailed discussion on the relative merits of specific vineyard sites on the eastern side of the hill of Corton, although I am unable to remember what conclusions were arrived at. Importantly though it appeared that our guests had enjoyed themselves and were most generous in their praise of our Anglo Saxon attempts at hospitality. Today, some four years later, we now work closely with five of the six guests present that evening and all have become great friends.

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