Pairing Schubert and Wine

Last week I was invited to perform in a wine tasting event at Fidelio Café.

I have talked about Fidelio in a previous blog post. Its walls peppered with music scores and Bauhaus-style posters of classical music make it a very Instagram-worthy alternative venue for classical music. A majestic Steinway in the middle of the room is the centre around which everything revolves, and is the reason Fidelio attracts stellar artists from all around the world to give salon-style concerts before they step onto Wigmore Hall or the Royal Festival Hall.

This wine-tasting event that I was invited to was the initiative of Corney and Barrow, an independent wine merchant founded in the late 18th century who has a history of collaboration with Fidelio (they’ve done various events at the café before). The director of one of their suppliers, Gerhard Kracher from Kracher Wines—a famous brand, apparently—was passing through town and they decided to make a wine-tasting event connecting wine and classical music at—and where better than—Fidelio Café.

Now, I’ve never done this sort of thing before. I was asked only a week before the event to learn 25 minutes of Schubert’s music. Out of curiosity, both at the nature of the event (can’t say no when wine is involved) and at my ability to speed-learn Schubert, I said yes.

I chose three contrasting and popular tunes by Schubert: the Beethovenian 1st Impromptu in C minor from the op. 90 set, alongside the romantic, Liebestraume-like 3rd Impromptu in G flat. I also chose the first movement from the beautiful “little A major sonata”, D. 664.

I understood that for these kinds of events it’s best to stick with palatable, accessible classical music rather than the more profound and intellectual that we musicians are more interested in. I’ll spare you the details of the stress I went through to learn, and I’ll save discussion of the techniques I acquired through speed-learning for another post. I got the pieces into my system just in time for the performance (luckily I was allowed to use an iPad).

At dinner I was sat between the wine-maker Gerhard Kracher and two representatives from Corney and Barrow. Every table was cluttered with wine glasses, with only just enough space for one plate per person. We were to try a different wine for every course.

I had a sip of the sweet wine which was accompanied by the lobster roll. It was beautiful! I was told my the Corney and Barrow woman that slight saltiness of the wine actually leaves you wanting more, rather than the sickly, syrupy sweetness of sweet wines that almost feels like medicine. I did want to take another sip, and another one. And of course I was encouraged to do so by Gerhard, who insisted I would play better after drinking the wine. It took me all my discipline to stop myself and to tell myself I’m saving it for after the performance.

Each course was paired with a different wine, and each time Gerhard would get up and tell an interesting story about the wine’s background, how it was made etc. I learned a lot about how different wines are made. For example, for sweet wines, grapes are shrunk until all juices are squeezed out; sometimes you can mix two grapes from different regions to produce a unique-tasting wine. I can’t recall a lot, but the impression I got was there are infinite possibilities with wine, contingent on weather, soil, production method…just like a performance. Every performance, even of the same piece, is different, and that’s what makes live music special for both audience and performer.

I even got a little wine-tasting lesson from the Corney and Barrow representative, although I must confess the tasting notes that she told me about can only ever be identified in retrospect!

Partly inspired by Gerhard’s speeches, partly by the dozen or so sips of great wine I had, I introduced Schubert’s music to my audience in a similar fashion, showing how elements of Beethoven creep in and mix with Schubert’s distinctly lyrical style to create something very unique etc. etc. it did have a good effect on the audience, me taking something from the speeches of the winemaker and running with it. It allows the music to connect seamlessly with the wine, and the whole evening to flow more naturally rather than feeling like “here’s one act, and not another”.

In the end, the evening went very well. I had good food and wine which, as Gerhard predicted, did in fact make me more relaxed and play better; I did not feel the same pressure interpreting the classics as I would in a concert hall, and the audience certainly had a good time.

After my performances and having polished off the glasses, I went the rounds chatting with the guests. Everyone was more open and talkative after a few glasses (I most certainly was after having that load off my shoulders!) and I met some very interesting people. I also bumped into a couple who was at my Tunbridge Wells private recital back in summer!

A joyous occasion where everyone had a good time. It most certainly got me thinking: while conventional recitals are nice, these salon-style, intimate events are also great for music. It’s a social setting where everyone has a great time because of the food and wine, the atmosphere is more relaxed because of there’s no pressure to observe unwritten concert etiquette, and music becomes part of the tapestry rather than put on a pedestal to be observed and admired.

Of course, I also love when the quality of music reaches its highest, and that only happens when everyone sits quietly and listens intently, but having experienced this night, I realize it’s not the only way classical music can be heard live, and it’s definitely opened up my imagination for future concert curation. The world of classical music is changing; the audience is becoming more diverse and the possibility of showcasing classical music in different settings is opening up. For me, that’s quite exciting.

I had a great time pairing Schubert and wine together and I look forward to doing more of that in the future!