A dinner for Haut Brion

I remember being eight years old, and thinking it extremely exciting and sophisticated to be eating a starter of parma ham and melon at a linen-clothed table for my grandmother's 70th birthday lunch. As I enjoyed mouthfuls of this novelty sweet-savoury combination, my great uncle Christopher sitting next to me explained to me the concept of wine 'vintages'. The conversation had perhaps stemmed from talk of birthdays, and age - translating my years into wine terms would be a new way to express mine. I was pleased to learn that I, having been born in 1989, had the best vintage of them all, but this was not something my eight-year old self would have truly comprehended. Luckily for me, this was not the last I heard of such a great year for grapes - my father had made a couple of wise purchases with the thought of being able to enjoy some pretty good plonk right around 21 years later.

To say thank you, I cooked the dinner to which a bottle of this incredibly special Bordeaux would be matched. I decided on lamb shanks, since we'd had a roast recently, and we were only going to be four. I used a recipe from Tamasin Day-Lewis's Kitchen Bible, which seems to be a go-to cookbook for hearty, meaty meals. Essentially the process involved first browing the shanks, cooking fresh thyme and rosemary with onions and garlic, then after pouring over some balsamic vinegar and white wine, leaving to simmer for a couple of hours.

With a bunch of spring onions fresh from the garden, I made Irish 'champ' instead of plain mash, which would absorb the thick, chocolatey sauce like a sponge on the plate. A few buttery sauteed leeks provided the greens. I'm not sure I did the wine justice with the meal, although I suppose with great wines it's perhaps better to eat something simple, reliably good, and not too packed with different flavours. The wine was certainly great, and we were very lucky to be drinking it, as a bottle of Haut Brion (let alone from that year) is probably worth a tidy sum. Now an earthy red instead of purple, it was rich and jammy, with plenty sweetness and spice. Dad scribbled notes into a little-used wine-tasting book he probably received as a Christmas present, and Robert Parker's hefty Bordeaux volume lay on the table.

To finish the meal I got out the salted butter caramel ice-cream I'd made earlier in the day (see below). It was superbly creamy, with salted caramel brittle to mix in for some crunch. Writing this now, it is odd to think of myself having spent a few hours making the dinner, for us to consume in less than that time, with a wine that had been around for as long as me.