Tahbilk Shiraz - 1998 and 1971

I had a fantastic birthday this week. Thanks for asking.

It was a crazy weekend. Bob Katter and his enormous hat are now in charge of the asylum. The Cottagers held ManU to a draw. And a good friend of mine put on a ten bottle vertical flight of Tahbilk Shiraz stretching back almost 40 years.

The good people at Chateau Tahbilk racked up their 150th birthday this year, so there were quite a few vintages to choose from.

Most of them stood up to the test of time brilliantly - particularly the 1998, and especially the 1971. Keeping in mind that the current vintage is less than $20 - and that you could have originally picked up the '98 for a tenner, and the '71 for loose change - all I can say is that it provides impressive staying power for the money.

They were so impressive in fact that I’m almost lost for words. Well, that and the fact that my recall is a little hazy...what with the 10 bottles and all.

So, I’m just going to have to stick to the two standouts - ‘98 and ‘71.

What I do remember about both of these little gems is that they were very big, very juicy, and wonderfully smooth.

The colour of the ‘71 was fading, but the flavour most definitely wasn’t. At 40 years old, it was still in the rudest of health. And at that price, I was absolutely blown away. I’m not ashamed to say I went back for seconds and thirds on this one. The boys had to wrestle the bottle off me – even long after it had been emptied.

The ‘98 was much deeper and darker, as you might expect. The nose was a sweet embrace, and it quite simply luxuriated on the tip of the tongue. Even the beer drinkers at the table enjoyed this one. It could have cost $100 and no-one would have complained. It’s a wine that may well live forever.

Most of the time you get what you pay for. Occasionally, you get so much more.

My advice is to buy a case of the '06 today and hide it somewhere dark for the next 20 to 30 years. You’re unlikely to be disappointed.

Rating: 9.25/10 (both)

Drink with: Cowboy Katter

Price: $4 ('71); $10 ('98); $18 ('06)

Billecart-Salmon Brut Reserve NV Champagne

As we all know, a very important vote was held at the weekend.

The fortunes of a nation depend on the result, and the campaign saw the candidates give diverse demonstrations both of their knowledge of foreign affairs and of their ability to look good in a Speedo.

But in the end, no matter how close the contest or which way the swingers swing, there can only be one champion of the people - and I, for one, am most pleased with the result.

In a victory for balloon smugglers everywhere, Jimena Navarrete (a.k.a. Miss Mexico) showed herself to be the very worthy winner of the contest which, in more civilised times, was named the International Pageant of Pulchritude, but which we all now know as the Miss Universe Pageant, 2010.

The interesting thing about the Miss Universe contest (apart from the obvious; and Donald Trump's hair-thing) is that, despite its intergalactic ambit, the Earthling gals so far have an extraordinary rate of success. Also, the English have never produced a winner. Who says that Americans have no taste.

All of this brings me rather loosely to the subject of this week's missive - champagne. Ms Navarrete was drinking it to celebrate, and so was I.

I couldn't tell what brand she was drinking, but I was into some Billecart-Salmon Brut NV. So, let's run with that.

The first thing to clear up is that, despite the slightly confusing connotation in its name, this is not a rosé. The Billecart boys do make one of those as well - and a famous one at that - but I'll leave that for another time.

One attribute I don't share with Sinatra - and there are only a couple - is that I do, happily, get a nice little kick out of champagne. But only the good stuff. And this gear is great.

Alive with brilliant, sparkle and tight effervescence, it's enough to turn any occasion into a celebration.

It smells like hot apple pie in buttery pastry. It's richly flavoured, but also clean, and incredibly crisp.

It's just what you're after, any time of the day or night.

Yum. Yum. Yum-Yum-Yum.

Keeping in mind that eating is cheating, we ensured that the bottle was fully devoured before making it out to dinner. But, equally, I think it would also stand up nicely with food - something from the sea would be the obvious choice.

As we all know, things are always better when someone else pays - especially at this price. And so I pass on my thanks, and hearty congratulations, to the good friends who so unparsimoniously stumped up for this bottle.

Rating: 8.99/10
Drink with: A smile
Price: $65

Hentley Farm 2008 The Beauty and The Beast Shirazes

No doubt about it. Everyone enjoys a nice pair. And that's exactly what I'm serving up this week.

La Belle et la Bête. The Beauty and The Beast Shirazes. From Hentley Farm in the Barossa.

At $52 and $77 respectively, they would want to be very good. And indeed they are.

The grapes for each hail from the same vineyard in the attic of the Barossa. But while the Beast's fruit comes from high on the hill, the Beauty's berries are from that part of the block laid low on the cool and shaded banks of Greenock Creek.

The difference it makes to the wines is immediately apparent and provides for an interesting comparison. Certainly, given the price difference, and my predilection for big Barossan shiraz, I started proceedings expecting a definite leaning towards The Beast.

But in the end, I'm a sucker for a stunner, and I was well and truly seduced by the more keenly priced Beauty.

My tasting mates had it the other way around - but, then again, they are also known to drink chilli oil for fun.

And so, in second place...

Hentley Farm 2008 The Beast Shiraz

The Beast is so named because that's exactly what it is. A bully. A monster. A brute.

It pours as red as the spanked bottom of an albino. It's intensely dense and virtually impenetrable.

Its legs stretch long and hang thickly around the glass before evaporating into waves of vapour. I wouldn't suggest lighting a match.

The nose is a brutal blow of meatiness and attacks the nostril like an angry quiver of cobras. There's a hint of chocolate. And there's definitely a vanilla gorilla hiding in there somewhere.

The drinking is ripe and dark and spicy and delicious; like a blended up Christmas pudding. And it is big. Really, really big. Nicely chewy, but perhaps just a little bit hot and dusty for me at the end.

Of course, it's a wine that's designed to be aged and it will soften as it does. You just might have to wait another 20 or 30 years for it to happen.

At the end of the day though, for me, The Beast is a plus-size model in comparison to The Beauty.

The first impressions are nice and the face is a winner. But there's just a little too much junk in the trunk.

You may well be into that kind of thing though. And as a great philosopher once wrote, "Go the ugly early and avoid the rush". I won't say a word.

Rating: 8/10
Drink with:Sophie Dahl
Price: $77

Hentley Farm 2008 The Beauty Shiraz

As the name suggests, The Beauty is the antithesis of The Beast.

There’s a small hit of viognier added to polish up the whole package, and it results in a truly elegant drop.

It’s incredibly deep purple in the glass, with a cheeky little red rim grinning back at you.

The alcohol is only slightly less than that of the Beast, but it’s much more restrained and doesn’t bloody your nose like some big Barossa shirazes can.

Instead there’s a pleasant little tickle of espresso and a comforting hint of Dutch oven. The cameo of viognier also lends a slightly floral lift. Sweet and savoury at the same time, it smells simply superb.

In the mouth, it’s a delicious explosion of raspberry tartness combined with the voluptuous smoothness of chocolate mousse. Perfectly weighted. Tightly constructed. It’s like drinking liquid velvet.

Refined. Sublime. Makes you feel fine.

This Beauty is one of the best I’ve had all year.

And you should have Her too. Just remember, She might be easy, but She’s not cheap.

Rating: 9/10
Drink with: Heidi Klum
Price: $52

Grant Burge 2004 Filsell Shiraz

This week we've got a big rough red, with a sharp nose and an acid tongue. But that's enough about Ms Gillard.

Fortunately, the Filsell is not running for parliament because it’s none of those things. Well, it is red I guess. But thankfully that’s where the comparison ends.

Filsell is the little brother of the great Meshach Shiraz. The grapes come from the same vineyard and the 90-year-old vines are so delicate that they live in constant fear of stiff breeze. No machines here. Hand picking all the way.

This '04 had been patiently gathering dust in my cellar for a while. It still had many more years up its sleeve, but I was confident it had thrown off the shackles of youth and so I dived in.

In the glass, it gives great colour – deep, dark red. More Hendricks than Gillard.

The legs are long, and the hefty hit of alcohol sends a haze of perfumed dark fruit booming from the glass. It’s as randy as Russell Brand and as big as Ron Jeremy’s hedgehog.

And the drinking is awesome. There’s a palpable punch of smoked berryliciousness to chew on, and it finishes as long and smooth as a supermodel’s pins.

It’s fair to say I was all over this like a catamite on a Catholic priest.

$35 from the cellar door, but the ‘08 is selling about town at the moment for $25. Happy days.

Rating: 8.5

Drink with: Jamie's slow-cooked lamb shoulder

Price: $25-$35

Image from www.grantburgewines.com.au

Julicher 2008 Pinot Noir and Alana Estate 2008 Pinot Noir

Part II - Martinborough

Be vewy, vewy qwiet. I'm hunting Pinots.

We've jumped the ferry to the North Island and wound our way along the serpentine mountain road from Wellington into what is undoubtedly the most agreeable wine region I've encountered.

The town of Martinborough is all class. A plethora of fine cafes and restaurants. A wonderful Arcadian backdrop. Dinner frolicking in the distant fields. Vines otherwise surrounding the town.

Best of all though is the brilliantly compact set of cellar doors.

No need to risk the booze bus in Martinborough. There are 20 odd vineyards within but a short stroll of the town square.

So, have a chat with the energetic Alex in the Wine Centre. Get the skinny on the best of the bottled stuff. Grab a map. And then get cracking.

Julicher 2008 Pinot Noir

First up is the suggestively named Julicher (it has a soft "j" - like in yogging).

You need to make an appointment. And well you should.

Sitting out on the Te Muna Road, in the company of such illustrious companions as Escarpment and Craggy Range, it is a homely operation that managed to claim the top gong at the Air NZ Wine Awards for its '08 Pinot Noir.

Wim Julicher and Sue Darling welcome you to their kitchen table like old friends and happily share a generous glass with you as they talk enthusiastically, but humbly, through their wines. I tell you, that's good work if you can get it.

The '08 Pinot is simply superb. It is an arrestingly beautiful deep purple. Almost black. Like it has sucked up all of the surrounding light just so it can send it back at you in concentrated flashes and sparks as you twirl it in the glass.

On the nose, it is a capricious combination of earthy spice and sweet chocolately goodness. It's a truly arousing aroma that will play Mozart with your feelings and havoc with your heart.

But, of course, it's the drinking that really counts. And, happily, there is no doubt that this is Pinot Noir at its hedonistic best.

Upfront, it is thuck and rutch; big and delicious and fruity. But it's also wonderfully soft and overflows gently with silken delicacy that lingers pleasingly until you're ready to take your next mouthful.

We were also lucky enough to try the '09. It had only recently been put in the bottle, which meant it was perhaps a little subdued. Mr Julicher is clearly a modest bloke, but I could tell from his subtle grin that he expects it to be every bit as good as the award-winning '08. I suggest you seek it out and buy it up before it sells out.

I managed to drink a lot of spectacular Pinot in Martinborough. The Julicher was far, far and away the best.

Rating: 9.5/10

Drink with: Martinborough Hotel's pie of the day

Price: NZ $40

Buy it in Oz at www.nzwineonline.com.au

Alana Estate 2008 Pinot Noir

We really only visited this cellar door because we had time to kill and someone had told us they put on a free cheese platter with the tasting.

Ominously, we were welcomed at the gate with a sign that threatened: "Shotgun in use".

Sadly, it was no more hospitable in the tasting room. The woman manning the bottles wore a face so sour she may well have just finished sucking a lemon soaked in off milk. She glared furiously and could not be drawn into uttering anything more than a grunt in response to our attempted pleasantries.

Now, I'm willing to be open-minded. Maybe her cat had run away. Maybe Dick Cheney was doing a stint as consultant winemaker and had shot the cat in an unfortunate hunting accident involving the shotgun. Maybe she'd just had a big night sampling the product.

Whatever.

But, here's a tip. If you are going to take the trouble of opening a cellar door (and certainly nobody's holding a shotgun to your head in that regard), how about engaging people who are at least mildly receptive when customers come to visit?

Anyway, the wine. Most of what was ungraciously splashed into our dirty little tasting glass was remarkably unremarkable. But since I came in search of Pinots, let's go with that.

It was as red as our temporary PM's hair. Which is to say that it was an insipid, rusty, russety orange. Certainly it was not at all the lovely deep purple on offer in nearby vineyards.

It smelt of dirty nappy and digested mushrooms, with perhaps a twist of chop chop chicken served fresh from the can. In the mouth there was a tannic burn reminiscent of urinal cake and lighter fluid.

The only other people in the tasting room were a couple of Yanks who we had earlier noticed walking from vineyard to vineyard. Despite the fact they were on foot, they still spat.

Oh, and there was no cheese platter on offer either. Just a frigid room full of midgie insects, ordinary wine and unpleasant surliness.

Disappointing on all fronts.

Rating: 5/10

Drink with: BYO cheese

Price: $50-$60

Spy Valley 2009 Sauvignon Blanc and Wither Hills 2008 Taylor River Pinot Noir

I have a theory. New Zealand should just get on with it and become Australia's seventh state.

Helpfully, our Constitution was drafted with sufficient prescience to facilitate just such a development. See here. And although the issue of compensation isn't specifically addressed, if the Kiwis did place a price on their devolution, we could simply offer to buy them some vowels.

The benefits of amalgamation are obvious. The combined nation of New Australia-land will become an unstoppable force when it comes to rugby. And, possibly, soccer. Plus, it will rectify Australia's current shortfall of blokes with names such as Phull, Rutchie and Keiran.

A further benefit will also be that the price of importing wine from NZ should fall significantly. Currently, it costs more than $120 to ship a case of plonk from Shabangabang to my door, whereas it costs a fifth of that amount for delivery from WA to the eastern seaboard (despite the fact it has to travel almost twice the distance).

That is unfair.

So, until Helen Clark (or whoever succeeded him as Prime Minister) agrees to this sensible union, I shall have to continue booking cheap Pacific Blue flights and skipping through customs with a bagful.

All of which brings me neatly to the point of this week's missive - my recent excursion across the ditch to the Marlborough and Martinborough wine regions (which will be distilled as a two part series).

Part I - Marlborough

Spy Valley 2009 Sauvignon Blanc

We’re here at the end of the harvesting season. The grapes have all been picked and the vines are almost naked. The few leaves that remain are bright red and the landscape glows with a brilliant terracotta radiance in the winter sunshine.

It’s cold. Icy cold. Cold enough to freeze the brass monkeys off the Marlboro man’s horse. Wood-smoke pours from chimneys and it hangs heavy in the air. The aroma invites the drinking of wine, and we do.

Marlborough, of course, is stupendously famous for Sauvignon Blanc. Most of what I try is pretty good. But the best I find is the ‘09 Spy Valley Sauvignon Blanc.

Spy Valley is named for the Echelon spy base across the road from the winery. The massive white satellite balls sit eccentrically and conspicuously in the rural landscape. It has a special resonance for me because my uncle was a spook for British Intelligence and spent many years in this very place listening in on the Chinese and cracking their codes.

The winery itself is a clever construction as well, with it’s name spelt out surreptitiously in Morse code along the side of the building.

The Sauv Blanc shows up early in the extensive tasting line-up and it's a cracker. It’s quite light in colour, but glows temptingly in the glass.

It smells sweetly like a red orange Tiro and I can’t wait to tuck in.

In the mouth, it’s very much in the usual fruity style of Marlborough Sauv Blanc, but it delivers in a lusciously smooth, yet crisp, fashion. It’s a delicious passionfruit mouth-bomb. Zippy. Clean. And I love it.

As many would know, Kiwi Sauv has a reputation for containing notes of cat urine – and this, bizarrely, is considered to be a positive trait. But not for me it isn’t, and happily the Spy Valley winemakers have managed to keep the moggies well away from this brew.

You can pick it up fairly widely around Oz for about $20, and I highly recommend you do.

Rating: 8
Drink with: 007
Price: $20

Wither Hills 2008 Taylor River Pinot Noir

Our next stop was Wither Hills. It’s a name I suspect we will be hearing a lot more of in Australia in the near future. One of the original family-owned wineries of the region, it has joined the Lion Nathan stable and clearly benefitted enormously from the injection of a bit of beer money.

It is far and away the most spectacular of the cellar doors in the region. The winery sits atop a man-made mound of earth that is camouflaged with native grasses and which cleverly houses the impressive above ground/below ground barrel room. Lunch in the restaurant is mandatory.

We were treated to a tour and private tasting with the house sommelier. Happily, it seems my dubious reputation had preceded me and someone other than just my friends and family has read my “quick and dirty” blog.

I love it when a plan comes together.

The pick of the Wither Hills range for me was a Pinot Noir that has not actually been released yet. Currently, they sell a decent - and cheapish - Pinot that is blended from grapes drawn from their various vineyards around the region. But, they are also set to release two single vineyard Pinots later this year that sit in the more premium range. The Taylor River Pinot is one of them.

As you pour, it's immediately obvious that it's going to be a solid little drop. It's very deeply coloured, but glows nicely around the rim of the glass in that lovely way that good Pinot always does.

The nose is an intense explosion of plummy spice and the local woodsmoke. Long legs dance seductively around the glass and give a glimpse of the elegant drinking to follow.

Straight up, it hits you as being pretty big for a Pinot. It gives you a rich mouthful of soft fruit that also warms you nicely on the follow through. It’s meaty and gelatinous like a slow-cooked joint of lamb, but finishes with very agreeable élan and finesse.

Because of it’s size, it really does demand food. We had it with a venison pie (which was incidentally one of the best pies I’ve ever eaten) and it went down as quickly and easily as an actress on Underbelly.

Get involved.

Rating: 8.25
Drink with: Bambi pie
Price: $40 (available in October 2010)

Images from http://www.spyvalleywine.co.nz and http://www.witherhills.co.nz

Howard Park 2009 Great Southern Riesling

Right. So, I'm doing a white wine this week.

I had to really, because I've seen altogether too many dirty little reds over the past few weeks. The run started badly with a Hardy's Oomoo Shiraz and (my old favourite) Wirra Wirra Church Block - both of which are sadly not what they used to be.

And then came the dirtiest little Red of them all, K.Rudd - and his simple little comrade, Swannie - taking the hammer and sickle to the "poor" mining magnates and goose-stepping their way towards full-blown communism.

So. White it is. And what a cracking little gem I've found here with the 2009 Howard Park Riesling.

Unhappily, my earliest memories of riesling come in a Coolabah cask and stolen sips from a plastic glass. But times have changed and getting into a good riesling is well worth your while.

Riesling, of course, originated in the Rhine Valley in Germany. This Howard Park version emanates from the coastal climes of WA and, like a lot of Germans on holiday, this lusty fellow enjoys the company of something Asian.

We paired it up with a spicy Thai takeaway and it was sublime.

It pours very pale, but don't let that fool you. Stick your nose in the glass and you cannot help but be drawn in by the beautiful collision of aromas. There's a heady pheromone of liminess that rouses the senses and girders the loin. There's sugar. There's spice. There's the minerality of stone roses and just a hint of Sally Cinnamon.

In the mouth, it gives a good kick of acidity to get you salivating, and then throws some nice mouth-filling thickness your way to help soothe the heat from your spicy squid. It's as deliciously limey as the lip of a bottle of Corona. And it just keeps getting better the longer it is out of the fridge.

By the end of the bottle, I was as happy as a dog blessed with two scrotums.

So, there you have it. A great little tipple to accompany a saucy Asian. But a drop which I think would go down equally well as an afternoon delight on a sunny, Brisbane winter's day.

You can drink it young, as I did. Or, as the good people at Howard Park suggest, the tight acidity should allow you to cellar it up to a generous 8 to 10 years.

At $25 a bottle, it would be well worth stashing a few bottles and taking it for a test drive every couple of years.

Rating: 8.5
Drink with: Sum yung gai
Price: $25

www.howardparkwines.com.au

Harewood Estate 2008 Sauvignon Blanc Semillon

I was quite looking forward to this little drop. Lots of people "in-the-know" have some big wraps on it, and I was expecting good things.

Unfortunately, I'm sorry to say my expectation was misplaced and served only to compound my disappointment.

It smelt sweetly of pissoir and painter's rag.

It tasted artificially of pine-lime cordial and required a determined peristaltic effort to get past the first gulp.

As unbalanced as a one-legged mental patient, and as fast and loose as an AFL'er taking telephone numbers at an Auskick clinic.

Not at all what I was expecting. And very disappointing.

Rating: 5

Drink with: a spittoon

Price: $20

Kay Brothers 2004 Amery Vineyards Hillside Shiraz

I was planning to write up a white wine this week. But, in light of rugby events in the Sunshine State over the past couple of weeks, it seemed more appropriate that I go patriotically Red.

We went out recently for a cheeky tight-ass Tuesday meal at a good local restaurant with a friendly BYO policy and a scratch spot on the Entertainment Book card.

So, what wine to take? I had some time on my hands, so after rummaging around downstairs for a while, I then went upstairs and selected something suitable from my wine fridge.

I chose a bottle of 2004 Kay Brothers Amery Hillside Shiraz that I'd been given recently and we presented it proudly as we arrived for dinner.

The waitress wore a bored expression and a pair of those thick Groucho Marx comedy glasses that are favoured by trendites and those "in advertising". She also wore a tie; not as part of a uniform, but apparently of her own volition.

I have a rule. In fact, I have quite a few. But the important one to note here is, in the same way that I distrust men who wear bow-ties with anything other than a dinner suit, I also have severe misgivings about females sporting neckties. If you are not forced to don the silk noose by your employer, why ever would you feel compelled to do so voluntarily? I guess the answer to that question lies in the same box of wannabe eccentricity as the Groucho glasses.

Anyway. My instinct was proven correct the moment she opened her cruel little mouth. "Oh, you've bought your own?, she muttered condescendingly as she attempted unsuccessfully to calculate the impact this might have on her tip.

No, actually. We've brought our own.

"That's what I said", she countered.

No, it wasn't darling. But, nice try. (And before you try to correct me in turn, please see above. I didn't buy it. It was a gift.)

Her mouth pursed as tightly as a pensioner's pucker as she took our orders and left to open the wine. I suspect she also used the opportunity to encourage the cook to add a little something to help thicken my soup of the day.

The wine though was simply cracking. The bottle, like our waitress, is labelled with a retro-chic livery. Unlike our waitress, the Hillside manages to pull it off since the Amery vineyard is genuinely one of the oldest in the country. The unsmiling mugs of Fred and Herb Kay stare out from the label. Freddy sports a moustache that was undoubtedly the inspiration for Messrs Lillee, Boon and Hughes.

In the glass, it’s the colour of a rusty nail, and the hefty alcohol sends a combative haze of smoky, sweetness wafting north. The legs are as long and sticky as a summer night in the tropics.

As it hits the nostril, there are notes of warm figs fresh from the tree, musty boxes of old love letters, and an unsmoked pack of Camel soft-tops.

On the tongue, it’s a a frugivore’s dream of intensely tart raspberry goodness, with a toasty mouth-filling finish.

It is seriously delicious, and a pleasantly elegant change of pace from many of the other “smack in the face” bottles of shiraz that are on the market. That in itself is quite an accomplishment given that it packs a solid 15% alcohol rating.

At $35-$40, it’s a bit of special occasion wine, so why not treat your old girl to one this Mother’s Day.

Back to the restaurant, and the end of the meal was just as exciting as the beginning. I called for the bill, and slipped my Entertainment card in with the Visa. That earned an immediate reprimand and another futile attempt at mental arithmetic.

“You’re supposed to have told me earlier”, she spat bitchily.

“Easy for you to say with the benefit of hind legs”, I wish I’d said.

I can’t wait to go back.

Rating: 8.75
Drink with: a red wine moustache
Price: $35-$40

Image from www.kaybrothersamerywines.com

Rosemount Diamond Label Shiraz

I travelled to Perth this week for work. It's a long flight and my difficulty, since I'm not wealthy or important enough to fly business class, is that I really don't fit into the economy seats particularly well. I have what a girl once described as ludicrously long legs. She was jealous.

It's a serious problem though because I always manage to be seated behind the ignorant jerk who insists on reclining his seat all the way back. On this occasion, even before the wheels had left the tarmac, I had a beady, beardy head in my lap. And not in a good way.

To make things worse, the national obesity champion was parked in the seat next to me. He was so morbidly corpulent that he required a seatbelt extender and would certainly have qualified for a Green Card. When he wasn't greedily eyeing off my Pringles, he liked to sleep sideways, pouring himself into what was left of the airspace above my seat.

Anyway, the wine. The only red option was a Rosemount homebrand shiraz, and I ordered a quaint miniature bottle as soon as the hostie noticed me waving from beneath my neighbours. You can appreciate why alcohol was necessary, notwithstanding the paucity of choice. I’d have ordered beer, but I didn’t have the space to accommodate the bloating.

The first bottle was decidedly average, although I can't say I was expecting much better. It was as dark as an angry Nigerian, but smelt of nothing much at all. It tasted like weak, tart blackberry cordial. But it did help to dull the pain from my crush injuries just a little.

The second bottle was much better - still a pretty lightweight Shiraz, but the tongue-zapping tartness was dissipating with every inebriating sip. The third bottle was as smooth and sweet as flat Coke. I should have probably just ordered one of those to start with.

But at least the rapid boozing gave me an excuse to climb over Jabba the Hutt and visit the little boys' room regularly. You encounter some weird people hanging around airplane toilets. I'm not sure what the bloke before me was doing in there, but from the noises emanating through the plastic door, I suspect he was making a solo attempt to join the mile high club.

Whatever he was up to, he certainly got his money's worth. The Virgin hostie (although I’m pretty sure she wasn’t) noticed my look of panic and quickly stepped in to disinfect the latrine.

That ordeal over, I returned to my fourth bottle of the mini Rosemounts. It was suddenly superb - the quality and taste apparently enjoying an inversely proportional relationship with my sobriety.

But seriously, this really is pretty generic wine. Sure, it’s cheap, but it’s also wildly unimaginative and deeply uninspiring. I certainly wouldn't buy it unless I was cruising 30,000 feet above the nearest bottle shop.

Then again, as the great Don Walker once wrote: Once I smoked a Danneman cigar. I drove a foreign car. But, baby, that was years ago. I left it all behind for my...Rosemount Diamond Label Shiraz.

I didn’t notice what year it was. I suspect it doesn’t really matter.

Rating: 6.5
Drink with: a 3-day growth
Price: $10-$15 (or $6.50 for a miniature bottle on Virgin)

Chris Ringland Shiraz's's

Went to a quiet little tasting with Chris Ringland last week.

He made, for a very long time, what I unashamedly admit is my favourite wine (the Rockford Basket Press Shiraz).

That was enough for me. But, under his own labels, particularly in the US, he has been elevated to somewhat of a demi-god on the back of perfect 100/100 scores from the kingmaker of wine, Robert Parker Jr, who described his flagship as "...the greatest Shiraz made in Australia".

If you haven't heard of him, it's because the Seppos have stolen him to a large extent. Most of his wine is exported (under a dizzying array of eclectic labels) and generally sold out in smart fashion, with the premium lines being priced into the stratosphere on the secondary market.

Such is his popularity with the Yanks, I partly expected him to be cut in that mould - fat, loud, and possibly toting a handgun.

He was none of these things. He was genuinely interested in what people thought of his wine and talked unpretentiously about it. And while he was down to earth and friendly, I got the impression he'd have been far happier in his vineyard, with dirt under his fingernails and mud on his boots. Which is, of course, exactly the sort of thing you want in a winemaker.

He put on ten stonking reds (quite a few of which retail for over $100) and a tidy platter of Barossan cheeses. I took full advantage of the generous four-finger pours and left nothing on the paddock.

I've written up the best three.








Chris Ringland 2007 CR Barossa Shiraz

One of the cheaper drops on show, but also one of the best. I could have happily stuck a long straw in the bottle and saved them some washing up.

Black as a ditchdigger’s fingernail, and shiny as an accused’s suit.

Smelling this wine made me think of meat. Bovine seared on electric fence. Eating a cherry ripe. Sipping an espresso.

This is really good, solid drinking. Full of ripe fruit and smoky interest. It will make you grow muscles and put hair on your chest. If you’re female, you’ll need to shave afterwards.

I get the feeling this is a wine to be enjoyed young. Just don’t tell the old man from Hey Dad.

You’ll find it at The Wine Emporium in Brisbane if you're quick.

Rating: 8.5
Drink with: Nudge
Price: $22

R Wines 2004 'Evil Incarnate' Barossa Shiraz

One of the pedestal wines of the night. And really, the wines leading up to it were simply jugglers before the burlesque.

Carefully constructed from the fruit of octogenarian vines, then kept on French oak for three years, Mr Ringland has turned out something very special here.

Impenetrably dark in the glass, fumes of alcohol billow from the bowl and greet you with a heady mix of berries and truffly, earthy goodness. You could happily sniff at it for hours.

The drinking is even better. It’s a great big whack of perfectly ripe deliciousness that throws you hard against the wall, and then toys with your tonsils as it sends tingles all the way down to your man plums. It’s butt clenchingly good.

One glass of this was never going to be enough. Unfortunately, standing between me and the pouring table was a woman with teeth like a dead man’s fist and a head like a hippo’s yawn. She greedily clutched at the last remaining bottle and tried to engage anyone who would listen in some high level wine waffle. Her head was so far up her own ass, I'm sure she was tasting each sip twice.

In the end, we feigned interest and distracted her with a couple of cheese crackers as we helped ourselves to the last of the bottle. I love it when a plan comes together.

It’s rare as hen’s teeth, but happily I managed to get one on order. If you’re lucky I’ll save you a drop.

Rating: 9.25
Drink with: a warm fire, a leather couch, and deep pockets
Price: $125

R Wines 2004 'The Wine' Barossa Shiraz

The Anthony Mundine of wine. And much like The Man, it didn't quite live up to the hype for me.

Not that my opinion matters in the slightest. Chris is selling this stuff fist over hand to Uncle Sam. And Mr Parker Jr gives it a frightening 99 points (compared to 94 for the Evil Incarnate). But that’s the thing about wine. One man’s floor is another man’s ceiling.

It’s made from the same grapes as the Incarnate, treated almost identically, but barrelled in slightly different oak. The result gives an interesting insight into the impact the winemaker’s every little decision has on the end result.

It smells wonderful again, but with a more Asian, soy sauce feel. It also seemed much lighter, and slightly tannic.

It’s undoubtedly a great wine, but I preferred the Incarnate. What would I know. I’m obviously a heathen.

The label is cool - although it is so rare, I couldn’t get my hands on a photo. But if I told you Paul Smith’s lawyers will be lining up to claim a share of the profits, that gives you a fairly good clue.

Rating: 8
Drink with: Anthony Mundine
Price: $125

Tyrrell's 2008 Rufus Stone Heathcote Shiraz

The Rufus Stone marks the spot where Sir Walter Tyrrell (accidentally) killed King William II of England with an arrow intended for a deer. King Billy Jr was fat and red. His nickname was Rufus. Hence the eponymous stone.

The Tyrrells are understandably proud of great great great grand-daddy Walter for knocking off old King Fanta Pants. And to honour the good man, they sell two very commendable Shirazes under the Rufus Stone label – one from Heathcote, one from McLaren Vale. Both are good, but the Heathcote is better.

In the glass, it’s as dark as a struck match and rimmed by a halo of redness that glows like a slapped ass.

It smells of ripe, spicy fruit and musky perfume. But, as it always should be, it’s the drinking that provides the highpoint.

It’s rich and flavoursome, but nicely rounded and balanced. Soft and velvety. Big enough to wash down a steak, but light enough to be quaffed mid-week on the couch if the mood takes you.

It’s good fun drinking and, quite simply, stunningly good quality wine for the price. At just over $10 a bottle, I’m all over this like Matt Dunning on a half-price pie.

The RRP is actually $24, but a couple of stores (including Uncle Dan's) are having a terrific sale on this at the moment. Six bottles at under $12 each, and they’ll throw in a free magnum. VCs have the same deal with the magnum, but you’ll pay the 50% "classy" tax if you shop there. Either way, it's cheap - and exceptionally good value.

As much fun as tickling a midget in Finland. And no, that’s not a euphemism - it’s a real sport.

Rating: 8.5
Drink with: a thick rib-eye
Price: $12-$24

Image from tyrrells.com.au

Brothers in Arms 2005 Langhorne Creek Shiraz

I admit it. I bought this because I love the Dire Straits song of the same name.

Having drunk it (well, some of it), I'm pretty miffed that I paid $35 for the bottle.

It's made by the Adams Family. In Langhorne Creek. I’m not sure if they have a Cousin Itt or whether he had any involvement in the making of this wine.

Smelt like dirt and went down rough. Very rough.

They describe the tannins as “approachable”. I'm sorry to say, but I’d have gone with “reproachable”.

Quite seriously, the only thing nastier than the taste is the price tag.

And so, by extensive experimentation, and in the interests of sharing the experience and saving you a few dollars, I’ve reverse engineered an analogous homebrew.

Roughly chop two fronds of rusted barbed wire. Combine with some freshly shredded shrapnel and give it a good pulse in the blender for a few minutes.

Stir in a finely chopped clove of thumb tacks. Season to taste with cayenne pepper, lighter fluid, and a good splash of Tabasco. Strain well.

Serves 4.

Rating: 4/10 (would have received an additional 1/2 point if it was 1/2 the price)
Drink with: Uncle Fester
Price: $35-$45

Image from visitvineyards.com

Paringa Estate 2007 Pinot Noir

I recently caught up with some friends at a bar too trendy for its own good. A place filled with gin junkies and the type of girls who hit the town with a To Do list and no panties. The blokes were no better - an exhibition of waxed chests and looking deeply into each other's mirrored aviators as they re-adjusted their GHD-scorched fringes and man-bags.

The waiter was an offensively short man who sported a set of ears that ought to have made him very good at listening. But, since he was also French, they did not. Between his innate insouciance and the loud whistling noise generated by his enormous nose, it was like sitting in the middle of a Monty Python sketch.

When Frère Jacques had finally finished insulting the people at the table next to us, we called him over and ordered a bottle of Paringa Pinot Noir. "Oiu, oiu", he sneered, before stamping a foot, spitting at the ground and disappearing for a good ten minutes.

It was worth the wait though.

The Paringa shows its ambition from the start. It’s a very deep purple for a pinot, and smells unctuously like a wonderfully ripe bowl of cherries.

The drinking is achingly good. I’m almost embarrassed to say it, but it really does dance on your tongue. Good (or in this case, great) pinot is a cut above any other wine when it comes to that special layered flavouring.

It’s spicy, fruity, and soft. Smooth as Alicia Keys' tonsils. Gargling baby oil. Swaddled in silk.

A taste bud's whet dream.

Rating: 9
Drink with: A good tapas plate
Price: $60 (and worth every cent)
www.paringaestate.com.au

Pizzini 2009 Pinot Grigio and Printhie 2008 Pinot Gris

In London, some of the best times you'll ever have are the summer Sunday-afternoon sessions at any one of the hundred million pubs scattered along the Thames. Licensing laws are lax, and you are free to take your pints and ice buckets out onto the grass as you vainly attempt to find some dappled sunshine with a large group of your expatriate friends.

Without fail, Pinot Grigio is the default white wine of choice. To start with, the girls are the ones bearing the buckets. But the boys follow once they have become too lagered out and bloated to make the trek back inside to the bar.

Pinot Grigio (or Pinot Gris if the winemaker is a Francophile) is generally the very definition of easy-drinking wine. Light. Inoffensive. Smooth. Summery.

You don't need a plate full of food to tame it, but it will also go well with a wrap of hot chips and aioli. It's exactly the sort of booze you want on a lazy afternoon when the next food you are likely to see is at a kebab stand after you've caught the last tube to Cockfosters.

The Aussie autumn is roughly equivalent to an English summer. It's warm(ish), and it rains a lot. So as March approaches, I thought I would road-test a couple of Aussie Pinot Grigios/Pinot Gris'.

First cab off the rank is a Pizzini 2009 Pinot Grigio.


The Pizzinis are very proud Italian-Australians. From the King Valley in northern Victoria, they produce what must be the widest range of Italian-style wines on the Aussie market - most of which you've probably never heard of and some of which you won't even be able to pronounce. Nevertheless, the ones I've tried have generally been pretty solid.

Their Pinot Grigio is one of my favourites. It’s a light golden glow in the glass, rimmed with a twinkle and a spark. It has a mild, but pleasant, floral whiff that politely puts a gun to your head and makes you an offer you simply can't refuse.

In the mouth, it's a mouth-wateringly, nubile flood of passionfruit icing on a lemon and poppy seed muffin. It gives you a nice, crisp finish and there's a hint of texture and muscle. But in Corleone-terms, it's probably more Fredo than Sonny.

Beautifully balanced, light and delicious. It’s summer in a glass.

Perfect for Fivesies. Or Elevenses, if you are so inclined.

Rating: 8.75
Drink with: Luca Brasi
Price: $18 (www.pizzini.com.au)

Next up is the Printhie 2008 Pinto Gris.

The Gris style (as opposed to the Grigio style) means it’s richer and more full-bodied. That’s never a bad thing, whether we be talking women or wine.

The Printhie vineyards are set in the elevated, cool climate of Orange. The grapes are picked later and riper, and the team at Printhie perform some clever and innovative alchemy to create a more complex mix than the Grigio above.

I have to confess that I needed to open two bottles of this little champ. There was something not quite right with the first bottle. It smelt musty and damp - like the stairwell of a multi-storey carpark. I must have picked up a dodgy one because, thankfully, the second bottle was right back on the money. It smelt properly of an apple orchard irrigated generously with honey. A scent of summer that invites you to roll over and have your tummy tickled.

In the glass, it’s a pale gold, tinged with the shade of an envious Granny Smith. Dive in and it’s a cheery, mouth-filling orgy of lightly spiced apples and pears. An alcoholic Danish. Hans Christian Andersen on a bender.

Again, it’s just a wonderful summery drop. A bit heavier than the Pizzini. But still simple, bright and easy to drink.

At any Sunday session, we all know that eating is cheating. But if you felt compelled to sneak in a cheeky bar snack, then I’m sure this would wash it down suitably.

Rating: 8.5
Drink with: Calamari a L’orange
Price: $17 (www.printhiewines.com.au)