This week in Libby’s Naked Wines diary, our wine columnist visits Oxford
Simon Drake glides up to me in a jacket that looks and feels like he has skinned the Velveteen Rabbit. Indeed, it is so soft I pause for just longer than is potentially acceptable to stroke his velvety arm – before he gently pulls away and suggests a cocktail. Drake is the general manager of The Store, the hotel that has been making modern waves among the historic “dreaming spires” of Oxford – and, as I discover over a tequila, spirits are important to him.
“We have our own gin and our vodka just won third place in the World Spirits Awards, making it the highest rated vodka in the UK,” he tells me. “By the summer we plan to have the biggest bespoke spirits selection of any hotel in the UK”. The wine list is rather good, too: succinct with a preference for New World and some reassuringly recognisable producers.
Libby’s Naked Wines diary: It’s my first visit to Oxford, and the city truly is tiny
It is always wise to pack a bottle when visiting somewhere new (this time it was fine but you can never be sure of a hotel’s wine selection) and I brought Diego Spinoglio Tierra Alta Reserva 2021 (Naked Wines, £19.99; Angel Price, £15.99), an interesting blend of Merlot and Tannat from Uruguay. For those who have not tried Uruguayan wines, this is your sign to give it a go. Smooth, silky red fruits with a ripple of dark silk underneath. Both light and fresh, and seductively warming, it was an excellent end-of- the-day wine.
We took it to the terrace, the calling card of The Store, to admire the wrap-around views of the city below us. It may be a university town, but the terrace is for over 21s only, making it blissfully free of Jaegar- bomb shooting teenagers. We sipped the wine as the afternoon sunshine lit up the sandstone buildings around us.
This was my first time in Oxford, and it really is tiny. All points of interest were within a 20-minute walk of the hotel. Rising early for a bowl of Turkish eggs, sourdough toast and strong coffee, the walk to St Mary’s Church was briefer than imagined and we arrived a full half hour before it opened at 9.30am. Not exactly a hardship with the glorious architecture surrounding us bu nippy enough to make us storm the doors at the first hint of a latch click, bearing down on the sleepily surprised doorman.
Only 127 steep steps up and we had the view of Oxford to ourselves – just us, the gargoyles and one immoveable pigeon on the narrow pathway, sheltering from the wind. It’s a good idea to head up so early as by the time we left four others had climbed up and there was a certain degree of intimacy involved in getting by. From there we went to Christchurch College, where I pretended not to recognise every corner featured in the Harry Potter films and only once uttered the insufferably repeated line “You’re a Wizard Harry” in my best Hagrid growl. Fairly sure the Significant Other has never wanted me more.
Then onto the Botanic Gardens, the oldest in the UK, to look at the punts on the river and decide if we could brave it. We couldn’t. I had already lost the feeling in my fingers and toes so we retired to the Thermal Spa at The Store to warm our bones with an hour’s sauna and steaming. The restaurant, Treadwells, defined itself as “Untraditionally British”. The English carbonara may make an Italian fall off their Vespa, with its White Lake pecorino and local Speck, but it was welcome after a day’s walking. The small plates won however, with a Masala-spiced-honey spin on classic cheese on toast and a sausage roll with marmite and a tamarind dip.
Dessert was served to the bedroom at the suggestion of the staff. I would love to say our ardour was evident, but the rugby was on, and I think they saw the Significant Other’s clock-watching. Not high romance perhaps, but such observant service is a fair consolation prize.
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