Yesterday we went across the river to Buda and watched the england argentina match in a tent. The atmosphere was fantastic! Hundreds of hungarians, beered up, george crosses painted on their faces, chanting ingerlund, ingerlund, and another pack of them in pale blue shirts, cheering every time we hit the post. Got a great photo of the goal.

Went this morning to buy a washing machine and a fridge. Sometimes transactions go beautifully, the assistant is patient with our slow hungarian, and everything is sorted out in a few minutes. This was one of those times. Yesterday we had a little more trouble sorting out the telephone line, but only because the forms were all complicated. The day before, I went to withdraw some money from the bank, and the cashier spent ages holding my passport under the UV light, turning it round, examining it. I asked if there was a problem, and she said nem…. szep!!: No, it’s beautiful! She was looking at the daffodils and thistles that show up in the light.

Our intrepid first expedition to the HHOW on Varhegy was considered a success by all concerned. The Belgian Colleague had just lost his Hungarian customer, and Ken and I were completely stressed out by the house-moving experience and the fact that the painter had still not finished, and we were due to move in at 4pm the next day. On top of this, we were all feeling mighty fragile, following the many many mojitos and cognacs from the night before.

I apologise if the following wine notes bore you. For us it was the most marvelous fun. You purchased a ticket (or in our case, the company paid our entry fees), and this golden ticket opened the door to a cellar containing about 700 bottles from all the wine regions of Hungary. You have two hours to get as many of these as possible down your neck.

Before we start the tasting notes, let me share with you one or two of the rules of the cellar: 1. We recommend moving about with caution – at your own risk – on the steps and under the low vaults of the cellar. 5. It is an objective of the HHOW to promote the idea of a well-mannered culture of wine consumption, and therefore conduct involving intoxication, loud remarks, or being a nuisance to others, is alien to the rules of the house, and will result in exclusion from tasting. So: you pay ten quid, we give you two hours of uninhibited quaffing of hungary’s finest produce, but you may NOT become drunk or exhibit symptoms of being pissed.

Luckily, there was no-one else in the cellar. Ken and the BC stuck to white for most of their vinitual trip (as opposed to a virtual trip) around Hungary. I, however, started with a Hajósi Cabernet Sauvignon Sümegi borászat 1999, priced at 1880 HUF/bottle (the current exchange rate is about 383 HUF to £1) It was like a smooth slide down into this cellar full of bottles labelled drink me, to copy a stylistic silliness from my xenocolleagues.

My next wine was the Egri Vincze Béla Francia Cuvée 1999. An imitation french wine, spicy and a little harsh; followed by a Soproni Taschner-vin Sauvignon Blanc 20021, of which I have no memory whatsoever. And this was early days. All around the cellar the wines were stacked up and displayed on top of the counters, with the whites in clay jars which kept them impressively cool. Near each set of wines was a pottery jug to tip (or presumably to spit) your surplus wine into. I don’t believe Ken or the BC used this facility at any point. Being vastly more sophisticated, I tipped quite a lot of my wine away, but still managed to get disgustingly pissed.

Ken and the BC made me try a Tokai, which I made no note of, but I vaguely remember it was a 3 puttonyos (puttonyos is the level of sweetness and goes up to 6, like the stars on your Metaxa), and really quite drinkable. But back to the proper wine. For the sake of novelty we tried a Villány Monetvino rosé 2001, but it was completely tasteless,as is the case with a lot of rosé wine. This is probably why Mateus Rosé is so popular with the tenerifies who think they are sophisticated because they spend two weeks in the Algarve each year.

The Légli Sauvignon Blanc Tolna 2001 didn’t taste much more impressive, until a second or two after you swallowed it, when it erupted on all your tastebuds at once. This was followed by the one that the BC asked to be noted as his favourite, a Neszméli Chardonnay Sauvignon Blanc 1999, Hilltop Budavar Selection. This had a fine yellowish colour and a peachy flavour which lasted long after the wine had gone. Perfect for a hot day on the terrace, but not the wine about which he waxed the most lyrical. But maybe that was because he became aloquent with elcohol, or something…

Ken asked me to make a special note of the Etyeki Kúria Chardonnay 2000, which had lovely orange labels and a peppery fizz on the tongue. He also enjoyed several of the many Csérsegy Fuzéres, marketed in the UK as The Unpronouncable Grape, but trust me, it isn’t. This is the wine that we buy in plastic bottles for about 430 HUF per litre: every bit as drinkable as the surprisingly good bottom-of-the-market plonk you pay £3.50 for in England.

We tried the strong, flowery-flavoured Dörgicsei Pántlika Pincészet Sauvignon Blanc 1999 (pantlika? huhu, huhu, he said pantlika…), and a label we recognised: Egri Thummerer Muscat Sweet Kózer 1999, which was a raisin-sweet nutty liqueur that you could drink all day (with dire consequences, I’m sure).

As we moved into the Balaton region, the wines improved noticeably. I think all three votes for the wine of the evening went to the Badacsonyi Barbély Pince Ottonel Muskotály 2000; a bargain at 1580 HUF, this wine was like drinking savoury perfume, fruity but not sweet. The BC named this wine Fruitbowl In The Mouth, comparing it to taking a big fruitbowl and pushing it into your face. He drank quite a lot of it.

Following the fruitbowl, we found the Pannonhalmi Szöllosi Mihaly Chardonnay 2000 and the Móri Bozóky Ezerjó 2000 decidedly ornery, the Balaton Felvidéki Kálvin Olaszrizling 1999 revolting, and the Somlói Dr Halla Olaszrizling 1996 absolutely vile. The BC liked the Somlói Fekete Béla Juhfork 1999, too, but I thought its only redeeming feature was the nice picture of some sheep on its label.

The last three wines were the last simply because we were tired of seeking new experiences, and ready to circle around the tastes we knew we liked, comfortable and confident in the knowledge that we were, by this time, truly drunk. Another label we recognised was the Nagrédi Szoloskert Szov Chardonnay 2001 from the Mátra Hills. This had a typical, pleasant chardonnay flavour and a mellow aftertaste. Just the sort of wine that restores your faith in eastern european viniculture, when you really start to miss the californian imports too much.

The wine of the evening runner up, at least as far as the BC was concerned, was the Mátraaljai Szoke Mátyás Mátra Hills muscat ottonel 2000. The nutty flavour collected in the front of your mouth and not on your palate, and the BC named it Fruitbowl On The Tongue; never one to miss the opportunity to invent a new soundbite, he said (only slurring a little), you serve this to your friends, they will like you.

The final wine of the two-hour slot was a Szekszárdi Cabernet Sauvignon 1998, full and oaky and delicious, bringing the experience full circle as far as I was concerned. Deep dark red wine, frivolous whites and lots of giggling, and finally to rest on a velvet bed of more deep dark red wine.