Penfolds 1994 Bin 707 Cabernet Sauvignon

In 1994, I was 17 and it was a very good year.

The Reds won the Super 10. The Maroons won the Origin.

The world’s best band, Oasis, arrived with a bang. Kurt Cobain, sadly, departed with one.

My hair was fair. I was thin. And I started to properly enjoy drinking beer (even if it was Hahn Ice).

But, as of this week, I’ve turned a positively ancient 34 years of age.

And while, happily, the Reds and the Maroons are again #1, so too, sadly, is Katy Perry.

My hair is also turning silver (ok, grey), I’m carrying a couple of extra kegs, and the only upside to my drinking is that I now enjoy far more wine than beer.

So, to make myself feel a bit better, I decided to take a tasty 17-year old out to dinner. The missus come along as well. You know what they say: two might be company, but three is a result.

The 17-year old in question was a ripping Penfolds 1994 Bin 707 Cab Sauv.

It was one of the first good bottles of wine I ever bought to lay down. She’s followed me for almost 15 years, living under the stairs and waiting patiently for her day to come.

And did she what.

In the glass, she was as red as a Greek balance sheet, and far brighter than I expected. She smelt sweetly like a fistful of raspberries packed into your grandfather’s pipe.

She was a cracker when she was bottled, and she is simply astounding now. I tell you what; if you have the stamina to keep wine for this long, the reward is well worth it.

The length and structure remains, but all the tannin has long gone; suffocated and softened by a decade and a half without oxygen.

And with the pucker gone, the deliciousness explodes from the tip of your tongue all the way down to your big toe.

For me, cabernet always goes best with a steak, and this old girl was no exception. She wrapped her legs around a ball of beef and danced like she was being paid.

Of course, at almost $200 a bottle (these days), it’s a drink-your-cheque-at-the-bar kind of wine for most people.

But what are birthdays for, if not for being spent with old friends and getting drunk on fine wine.

She made a happy man feel very old. And I loved it.

Rating: 9.75
Drink with: Grace
Price: $190 these days (although I think I paid around $100 in about ‘96/’97)

Torbreck 2007 The Steading GSM

By all accounts, the collapse of society as we know it is imminent.

The world seems to have finally come to the realisation (for the second time) that our financial system is potentially just one massive Ponzi scheme built on nothing more than make-believe money and a steaming pile of bankers’ bullshit.

And then there is London, where the degeneration of social order has plumbed even greater depths, with the streets on fire and young men in hoodies eagerly engaging in a spot of heavily discounted late-night shopping.

All of this goes to show two things: firstly, that The Kaiser Chiefs are very good at predicting current events, and, secondly, that the stability of our comfortably civilised society is in fact perilously balanced on the knife edge of calamity.

The only sensible solution I can come up with in the face of the arriving apocalypse is to sit down and have a good drink. And so I shall.

Torbreck’s “The Steading” is that most classic of Barossan blends, a GSM. 60% grenache, 20% shiraz, 20% mataro. 100% yummy.

What I love about GSM, and The Steading is no exception here, is that it is invariably just such an enjoyable, easy-drinking drop. It smells like a party and tastes like purple.

It’s warm and ripe and full of fruity, spicy flavour; but it’s also soft and round and smooth. And while it lingers pleasingly in your mouth, there’s no burn or tannic pucker to speak of at all (despite a big 15.3% dollop of alcohol).

This is the sort of wine you can drink just to have a drink, but equally, it would be more than a match for a Sunday roast or a dirty great ball of rib-eye steak.

Drink it to warm up, or just to chill out. On a Sunday, or on a Monday. Any which way you pour it, if you’re pouring me a glass, I’ll be in there like swimwear.

And no, I don’t know what a “steading” is either.

Rating: 8.5
Drink with: Your stockbroker (your shout; he won’t be able to afford it)
Price: $35

www.torbreck.com

Baileys of Glenrowan Winemaker's Selection Old Muscat

As I was walking between bus and business this morning, I crossed paths with a bloke all trussed up with a trendy scarf wrapped around his neck and ears. No coat though mind you. And a scalp that had been shaved totally nude in an apparent attempt to disguise the fact it was prematurely balding.

Granted, it’s a bit cool at the moment. But this chap appeared to be doing everything he possibly could to be cold, presumably just to justify the wearing of his natty little scarf.

I felt like slapping him and shouting, “Godammit man, get a hold of yourself. This is Brisbane, not Melbourne. Men don’t wear scarves here. Unless we’re watching the Lions play AFL, which of course no-one has done since the bandwagon left town in 2004.”

All Uncle Fester really needed to do was stop trying to be cool and simply don a jacket. Or pick up a voucher for some sew-in hair from Ashley & Martin. Or maybe just sneak a little bit of fortified plonk into his morning latte. A nice little bottle of Muscat would do the trick nicely here.

A friend generously gave me a bottle of Baileys’ Winemaker's Selection Old Muscat last year, and it has been keeping me company into the wee hours for the past few weeks as I fought to stay awake to watch Cadel climb the Alps, and then go on to sip his champagne on the Champs-Élysées.A superb effort. And an absolutely superb little drop.

Sometimes I sipped at it with stinky cheese and fruit. Sometimes I had it with a chunk of dark chocolate. It didn’t matter. It was good all the time, and I was as happy as a bloke with a contract to import Lycra® cycling suits into Australia.

It’s the colour of bright, boiling caramel, and warms you up as soon as you give it a sniff and twirl it around the glass. It is a particular pleasure of mine to spend some time watching the legs drip themselves down the inside of the glass, and this baby has legs like tree trunks that stick to the glass like thick rivers of golden syrup.

I didn’t so much have this wine, as it had me.* Over and over again. Roughly and then smoothly. It had me at hello. It had me at goodbye. And then again at all points in between.

The drinking is like liquid Christmas cake. As smooth as brandy double cream, but as dry as Stephen Fry’s wit at the same time. It coats your mouth thickly, then palpably tingles as it evaporates about the inside of your cheeks. All set to an aroma of one of those fancy citrusy candles your missus likes to use when she takes a bath.

I’m almost certain it’s not possible to make anything more delicious than this stuff. It’s easily the equal of every glass of Noble One I’ve ever had the pleasure of tasting.

Baileys sits smack in the middle of Kelly country, and produced their first vintage just outside Glenrowan in 1870 when Ned was but a boy. It’s clear they’ve learned a thing or two about making wine over the years.

On a final note, I just noticed that James Halliday rates this wine a stupefying 98 points (I think he’s only ever scored one wine higher, and it cost $1000). In truth, that’s pretty much all you need to know, and you can therefore disregard my waffle above.

Bet he’s never compared wine with a rough shag though.


Rating: What Mr Halliday said, divided by 10
Drink with: Kevin Muscat
Price: $65-$75 (375ml)

www.baileysofglenrowan.com.au


* with all apologies to Lennon/McCartney (in that order) for this bastardisation

Reds

This week, Suncorp Stadium (or Langcorp Parkium for the traditionalists) will play host to the footy match, and the football player, of the decade.

No, I’m not talking State of Origin III. And nor, as good as he is, am I talking Darren Lockyer.

What I am talking about, of course, is the Grand Final of the game they play in heaven. The Qld Reds v the Canterbury Crusaders. The Floods v The Earthquakes.

And the player is Quade Cooper. A kid who, if the Reds win the title on Saturday night, should have his own gold statue (complete with pink boots and a magician’s wand) erected on Caxton Street right next to Wally Lewis and Locky.

Cellar-dwellers to Cellar-masters (hopefully) in little more than 12 months. A sell-out sea of Red at Suncorp. And not a bogan in sight (except for a handful of Kiwis who managed the swim across the Tasman).

In honour of the occasion, we should all be drinking copious amounts of Red plonk this week. To get you in the mood, I’ve searched hard and long to find three high quality (and suitably themed) drops for your drinking pleasure. Don’t say I never do anything for you.

Nothing outlandish, mind you - just good, honest Reds with the right sort of spirit. The wines are pretty good as well.

I should also point out, that with each of them coming in around the $30 mark, they’ll cost you less than a round of (light) beers at the game.

Boireann 2009 Shiraz

First to take the field is a smoking little drop, and a Queenslander of course. Some may mock its Granite Belt pedigree, but you really shouldn’t knock it until you’ve tried it.

Boireann is probably the Sunshine State’s most respected winery (their flagship SV ($55) particularly caught the eye of Mr Halliday a couple of years back), and with wines like this one it’s not hard to see why.

They make (in small quantities) plenty of unique and obscure blends. Of the ones I’ve tried though, this straight shiraz ($28) is my outright fave.

First up, it looks bloody brilliant in the glass. It’s deep and dark and flashes light around like an Eddie Murphy smile.

Take a whiff and it’s a nice tight little package of classy cold climate fruit with just a touch of vanilla sweetness. The drinking takes you on a savoury adventure that is ridiculously delicious and full of flavour, but never falls into the trap of over-cooking the delivery with excessive heat or alcohol.

If you’re not a fan of big, over-ripe Barossan-style shiraz, this might be just your ticket.

And if you happen to be out Stanthorpe way, say if you become lost on the way somewhere nice, then I wholeheartedly suggest you stop in at Boireann and pick up a couple of bottles before they sell-out for the season.

Or you could just go to The Wine Emporium for the free tasting tomorrow ;)

Rating: 9
Drink with: Oomfoofoo
Price: $28-$32

www.boireannwinery.com.au

Wills Domain 2008 Margaret River Cabernet Merlot

Next off the bench is a cheeky little drop which under-sells and over-delivers. In spades.

Despite their aversion to apostrophes, I really do love this lot. The cellar door is one of the best around too – awesome view, awesome people, and awesome booze.

The bottle comes dressed in a sharp black suit, and it pours out to reveal another genuine stunner in the glass. No argument.

The nose? Bigger than Bill Lawry’s, and full of pungent black fruit with a hint of ferrous.
The drinking is pretty lively too. Big and forceful in terms of flavour, but in a velvety, voluptuous kind of way. Like being smothered by a pair of Double-Ds. Probably.

Aside from that, it’s an extremely long but balanced wine. As dry as dead dingo’s donger, with a yummy tannic pucker as it follows through.

If the Reds win tomorrow night, I’m starting a campaign to have Suncorp re-named as Will’s Domain. Willy Genia that is. And with an apostrophe.

Rating: 9
Drink with: Ewen
Price: $30

www.willsdomain.com.au


Cooper Burns 2007 Barossa Valley Shiraz

First up, how cool is the bottle? So simple, but so schmick. Reem.

I bought a few of these a while back with the expectation of trying one, and keeping the others for later. Just drank the last one tonight though. Had to. Felt there was some omen value to it. Or maybe that was just an excuse.

Anyway, it probably wasn’t a great move, because, although it was a cracking drop, they don’t really make very much of it and the shop I bought it from has now put up the “sold out” sign. Not to worry, you can buy it direct from Mr Cooper and Mr Burns. I’ll take a dozen thanks.

It pours out jet black with a glowing red rim, and the nose is plummy, and spicy, and a lot like a half-smoked cigar.

I know I talked above about “over-ripe Barossan-style shiraz” as if it was a bad thing. Well, the over-ripe part can sometimes be a bad thing, but otherwise, big Barossan shiraz is generally, as a dyslexic man once said, ducking felicous.

This Cooper Burns’ model is definitely not over-cooked. It’s fruity, but also smoky and choclatey and finely textured.

It shows genuine ego and a touch of arrogance, but it really is a clever and complex little drop. A sheep in wolf’s clothing. (Whoa, did I just mention sheep? Take it easy Keiran Kiwi).

Anyway, this is great wine. A genuine cracker. Well, not an actual cracker of course, because it’s a wine. But you get the gist.

Crack one while your watching the footy tomorrow night. While Ritchie fiddles, Cooper Burns.

Rating: 9.25
Drink with: Rice, Stephanie Rice
Price: $35-$40

www.cooperburns.com.au

Leeuwin Estate 2009 Art Series Riesling

Over Lizzy's long weekend, I decided to take the family off to the beach in northern NSW. Typically, the weather sucked and it was so cold that even the bronze mermaids around the pool were sporting protuberances of impolite proportions.

To top it off, I found myself denied the basic human right of Foxtel and having to instead wander through the wasteland of regional television searching for scraps to sustain me on a wet and windy Sunday night.

After doing the rounds of all five channels a number of times, I finally settled on Masterchef - partially because I couldn’t bring myself to watch DWTS, but mainly because Gary and George appeared to have secured the services of Steven Seagal as a guest judge for the night.

Fair play, I thought - few could deny his culinary credentials after his convincing portrayal of Casey Ryback, the ex-Navy Seal turned chef, in the blockbuster classic, Under Siege.

I also vaguely recalled (perhaps from watching the scene until the VCR tape wore so thin it snapped) that Chief Petty Officer Ryback’s signature dish involved a very pretty girl from Baywatch exploding her way nakedly out of a giant cake. They did “food dreams” properly back in the 90’s.

Alas, it wasn’t to be. It turned out that the judge with the pony-tail was not in fact Steven Seagal, but rather a proper chef called Neil Perry. Apparently, amongst other things, he is responsible for the airline food on Qantas. At least we now know who to blame.

The obvious downside in all this was that there would be no exploding cakes. No Miss July ’89, Jordan Tate. And consequently no happy endings to the mystery box challenge.

All was not lost though because I had picked up a tidy little 2009 Art Series Riesling from Leeuwin Estate to drink with our Thai takeaway.

Not a lot of (good) Riesling seems to come out of the Margaret River (you’d usually look to the Clare Valley), but this is an exception. On sale for just under $20 a bottle, it’s obviously not meant to be in the league of Leeuwin’s flagship Art Series Chardy, but is undoubtedly good value drinking for a Sunday night.

The label has a pretty little painting of what is probably a frog, and which the girl behind the counter told me was the main reason she liked this wine. Hardly an inspiring recommendation, but maybe she’s just a big fan of frogs.

Anyway, what of the drinking?

In the glass, it’s light and bright and shiny and inviting. The alcohol (12%) is nothing big, but it clings thickly and pleasingly to the sides of the glass as you give it a swirl.

The nose is pleasant without being overpowering. Limey and slightly spicy, and a lot like my dinner.

It got better the longer it sat in the glass, which in truth was not that long. But probably well worth the effort if you’re more organised than me.

The drinking is tasty, and tangy, and absolutely bone dry. Deliciously refreshing, and as tight as Pippa Middleton’s backside.

At the end of the day, it’s not a world-beater by any means, but it’s certainly a good solid white to have in your repertoire.

Mmmm mmmm. Me likey.

Rating: 8.25
Drink with: Harry
Price: $20

Stella Bella 2008 Cabernet Merlot

After a glut of recent reds, I was going to write up a white this week. I swear.

But Brisbane is suddenly experiencing some Pearl Harbour-like weather, and I am in need of something to warm me up.

So, instead of hearing about a multi-award winning chardonnay, you will have to make do with a slightly less medalled (but frankly, to me, better) Cab Merlot.

Both were from Stella Bella, and to give this mob their dues, I must say I don’t really ever recall drinking a bad wine from their hand.

The Cabernet Merlot pours with a stygian splash that is deep and dense, and looks more suited to knife and fork than to mere stem and bowl.

Despite being armed with only a delicate little Riedel, I dived in. Obviously.

The nose is a belligerent collision of bright, jammy goodness balanced with a savoury dusting of oak and herbs. It promises a decent hit of tannin, and then delivers it in spades.

I only need one word to describe the drinking. Solid.

Ok, maybe a few more – well-balanced, long, and bloody delicious.

Above all though, this is just a genuinely good drinking wine. You can drink it with food. You can drink it by itself. By yourself. Or just to keep your brass monkeys warm on a chilly night.

I was lucky enough to drink this with the winemaker at a nice little tasting organised by the Bar Barossa boys. Tasting events are great but, if I’m honest, you never really get enough in your glass. And so, of course, I bought a few more bottles just to help me see out the long, cold winter ahead.

A mere nine days into June, and with the mercury already hitting an all time Bris-Vegas low, I’ve had to crack another one tonight. Just to generate some body heat of course. Teamed it up with a generous slab of eye fillet that was as rare as a virgin rabbit. Double delicious.

One glass. Two glass. Three glass. Four. Before I knew it, the Stella Bella had done a Keyser Söze on me.

And like that.........it was gone.

Rating: 8.75
Drink with: A nasty nip in the air
Price: $32

http://www.stellabella.com.au/

http://www.purplepalate.com/barbarossa/

Yalumba 2004 "The Menzies" Coonawarra Cabernet Sauvignon

An hour after my flight home from London touched down on Saturday morning, I was straight to the track to watch Black Caviar do her thing.

Battling jetlag, but with a drink in hand and my position on the rail safely secured, I settled in to watch the parade of nags and fillies trot by on their way to the ring and the bar respectively. Amongst the nags was none other than our deputy PM, prancing around smugly and inappropriately trying to big up the crowd.

Since he was in an area reserved for VIPs, owners and horses, there was of course much speculation about his presence in the enclosure.

Certainly, he should not have been eligible under the first banner. He’s not even mildly Important, never mind the Very. Some might say he also lacks many of the necessary characteristics required to technically qualify as a Person.

The second alternative was that he had taken the advice of The Australian ("better than bank interest and just as safe") and used the Future Fund to invest in a share of The Caviar (although I concede this option pre-supposes a level of foresight he lacks. It also assumes he can read).

Accordingly, the only sensible conclusion was that he had gained access by virtue of being a horse, or at least the rear-end of one.

In any event, after Caviar had successfully collected the chocolates by a two length margin, old mate “Swanny” was in the thick of the heaving, hooting, high-fiving crowd of great unwashed as they celebrated the 10c return on their $1 wagers by spilling their $7 beers all over themselves. As Charlie Sheen would say, “that is #Winning”.

After being in the presence of this political giant during the day, I decided I needed to elevate matters significantly that evening and cracked a bottle of Yalumba’s 2004 “The Menzies” Cab Sauv with dinner.

A mate had supplied an ’05 on NYE, which was cracking, and I had immediately gone out and sourced a few bottles of it myself (including some older vintages) at good prices.

I’d opened some of the much older ones in February and to be honest they were a bit disappointing/had their day. On that evidence, I’d say it’s probably a max 10 year wine. Pleasingly though, when I pulled the cork on the ’04 it was excellent and every bit as good as I had remembered the ’05.

In the glass, it’s squid-ink black, but still manages to twinkle like a well vajazzled vajayjay.

The nose is a Stockman's Breakfast of black coffee and rolled cigarettes. It hits you with a fistful of fury when first opened, but settles down after it’s taken a stroll around the glass, sucked in some fresh air and had a little time to relax.

I generally find Coonawarra cabernets to be a bit rougher than their Margaret River cousins, but this old boy is as velvet-tonsilled as its namesake.

The drinking is a cabernet chorus line of pretty intense Ribena-berry goodness, softened nicely by a subtle touch of vanillary oak, and ending with a cool fresh-mint finish.

It’s wine to be enjoyed on cold nights with steaks and sausages and stews, and the ever-present promise of a warm, comforting, cabernet cuddle by the end of the meal.

Yalumba, being Australia’s oldest family-owned winery, is both big enough to ensure quality and boutiquey enough to be cool. It also gets right into all that organic, lovey-dovey grape husbandry, moon-dancing stuff which a lot of people seem to like these days.

Get one. And then drink it soon.

Rating: 8.5
Drink with: Black Caviar, obviously
Price: $35-$45

PS I should point out that I am not really that biased against any particular pollies. I just tend to think most of them are as useless as the next.

PPS Except maybe Malcolm.

PPPS And, of course, “The Menzies”.

http://www.yalumba.com/

Gaja 2004 Barbaresco and Canalicchio Di Sopra 2005 Brunello Di Montalcino Riserva

We have just been through Germany and Switzerland. Not much to report in terms of wine.  As winemakers, the Krauts seem to make exceptional beer makers. And the Swiss appear to mainly be a bunch of bankers with a penchant for pocketknives and cuckoo clocks.

Coming over the Alps and into Italia has been a different story though.  We are in Bellagio, on Lake Como, and I have been eating like a peasant every day and drinking like a king every night. This, for me, is perfection.

Let me first say that Bellagio is full of Americans who appear disappointed to have found neither a casino nor a dancing fountain anywhere in this delightful little town. All is not lost for these ignorant ingrates though - they are able to console themselves by telling everyone very loudly that George Clooney lives across the other side of the lake, and, more importantly, that Obama just killed Osama.

Chants of "U-S-A, U-S-A" are deplorable at the best of times (second only to Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, Oi, Oi, Oi), but in this place it seems almost unforgivable.  I want to tell them that it is in fact a self-deprecating parody invented by Homer Simpson, but I fear they would probably not understand and that, if by some miracle they did, it would only encourage them.

That said, amongst the myriad of vertical, cobbled laneways that comprise this incredible little town, I find the cellar of one of the best wine merchants I have ever come across:  Enoteca Principessa.

They have an enomatic machine filled with an enormous selection of the very best Brunello, Barolo, and Barbaresco. Luigi is ridiculously knowledgable and very friendly. We communicate in his rough English and my pidgin Italian. He declines to charge me for my expensive sessions at the enomatic machine. I like him, and I like his cellar. A lot.

And so I return to visit him everyday at around 7 o'clock, as soon as the twins go to sleep. We taste together for a while and he teaches me about the important Italian grapes and regions. He sorts me out with a good bottle, I stop at the local deli on my way home, and then sit down on my terrace at 9 o'clock to feast on red wine, pink meats and soft cheeses as the sun goes down.

My two favorite wines were (like my last Italian review) from Tuscany and Piedmont, but at completely different ends of the price scale.

The Tuscan was a Canalicchio Di Sopra 2005 Brunello Di Montalcino Riserva at €28 ($40).

100% Sangiovese and 200% delicious.

It pours out with deep dark flourish, and gives off a lifted, foresty whiff that sweetens as you swill it in the glass.

The drinking is fantastic, and is the primary reason (as it should be) why I bought a case of it. Not too sweet, not too savoury. It is layered and long and lingers on your lips as you savour it to the last drop.

Yes, it is slightly grippy and not entirely refined. But that is the very thing I like about Italy in general anyway and it gives this wine an authentic sense of place. Luigi tells me it will soften nicely in the next ten years.

I drank it with some crumbly, sharp, hard cheese, and will do so again in 2021.

Rating: 8.75
Drink with: Hard cheeses and wild boar sausage
Price: $40

The second wine was the Gaja 2004 Barbaresco.  Angelo Gaja is the rockstar of Italian plonk, and his wines are priced accordingly.  This one was €180 ($250).

Mr Gaja (variously described as the King of Barbaresco or, simply, God) is credited with introducing French techniques into Italian wine-making. And doing it exceptionally well.

This wine is his flagship and is proudly 100% Nebbiolo.  Luigi tells me (many times) that 2004 was a "very important" year for Italian wine. And it shows.

It positively glows in the glass and sends plumes of truffly, earthy goodness straight up your nostril. And because it's made with bits of real Barbaresco, you can be sure it's good.

The drinking is like sucking down raspberries that have been blended with cream and silk and politicians' promises. There are tannins, but they are well-tamed and polite.

It takes opulence and finesse to entirely new levels.  Luigi says it will last for 50 years, and who am I not to believe him.

The Clonakilla SV was previously my highest rated wine, but no longer.

I visited the winery a couple of days later. It sits amidst steepled pines on vined hills as old as time, and completely dominates the medieval hilltop village of Barbaresco in which it sits.

Gaja doesn't deal with the public, but if you happen to find yourself in Piedmont and manage to blag your way beyond the steel gates (or slip in, as I did, behind the delivery truck...), then I highly recommend the experience. :)

Try though I might, I will never be able to describe the allure of Nebbilolo better than The Man himself:
"Cabernet is to John Wayne, as Nebbiolo is to Marcello Mastroianni. Cabernet has a strong personality, open, easily understood and dominating. If Cabernet were a man, he would do his duty every night in the bedroom, but always in the same way. Nebbiolo, on the other hand, would be the brooding, quiet man in the corner, harder to understand but infinitely more complex."

True dat. True dat.

Rating: 9.91
Drink with: Bella donna
Price: $250

Campbells 2006 The Brothers Rutherglen Shiraz

On my second day in London, I quite literally ran into Liam Gallagher on Hampstead Heath. No, I wasn't on a cruising mission with George Michael (although I did notice a suspicious bearded man in a leather jacket crouched in the bushes calling out for Jimmy - I think it must have been his dog).

No. Believe it or not, I was actually taking an early morning jog (walk...) around the Heath.

For those who know me well, the preceding sentence will have conjured up two reactions.

The first will be out-and-out surprise at my claim to have been moving above walking speed. Admittedly, I have not pounded a pavement in anger since... well, let's just say it was 10 kegs and a long time ago. But here I am, back in sunny (I know, I laughed too) London, and determined to engineer a kind of reverse Heathrow injection. So, stop sniggering and get over it.

The second reaction will undoubtedly be jealousy at the fact I have just been within head-butting distance of the lead singer of what was the world’s greatest band. I am Australia’s foremost Oasis tragic, it's true. But since Liam threw Noel’s toys off the stage and broke up the band, I have declared my allegiance to the elder brother, and my undying enmity to Liam.

So, there I am, rounding the Highgate Ponds, when I am affrontingly confronted by the beady eyes of "our kid" Liam all dressed up in his dandy running kit and a naff hoodie.

Bizarrely though, as he ran towards me, I could see what appeared to be a large red stain on his chest. Either he was suffering a bad case of jogger's nipple, or else it was that time of month and my long held suspicions about what lay at the heart of the man had been confirmed.

I nodded/waved to him (begrudgingly). He ran straight into my shoulder.

“See you next Tuesday”, I shouted after him. And I meant it.

I gather that he understood my insult because he half-stopped and turned. I suspect he would have come back and glassed me had it not been for the long lens of The Sun poking out of the bushes (at least I think it was a camera, but on the Heath you can never be sure).

Anyway, as you might imagine, I was pretty keen to dine out on my brush with celebrity and did so that very night while catching up with some old friends.

When the wine list was proffered, the feuding brothers Gallaghers were still fresh in my mind, and the bottle of Campbells "The Brothers" Rutherglen Shiraz 2006 immediately caught my eye. And, I'm glad it did.

First things first. The price was 32 squid. In a pub. Which is less than the list price from the cellar door. Got to love the strong Aussie dollar.

After a couple of cleansing pints, this was just the ticket to go with my pie and mash. Even the Poms we were eating with had to agree it was a ripper, despite their inherent snobbery and preference for Froggy wine.

It's a big-looking deep purple and gives off an absolute load of savoury spice. Despite first impressions though, it's a relatively mild-mannered fellow and is certainly not a big, hot shiraz in the Barossan mould.

Don't let that description fool you though. It's packed full of flavour, no doubt, but it is not going to blow your head off. Which is a good thing.

In the mouth, it's a fist fight of raspberries and Easter eggs all wrapped up in a velvet glove. It's a rewarding drop, with length and class written all over it, and at the same time is so fabulously smooth and finely balanced that you barely notice the whack of alcohol at all.

This is a great wine no doubt. It should keep on keeping on too, so I will be getting some for the cellar when I get back (although it might be cheaper to import it from the UK...).

Campbells and Rutherglen wines are generally better known for their fortified offerings, but this wine is testament to their table wines skills also.

Show it some brotherly love, and pick up a bottle today.

Rating: 9
Drink with: Noel
Price: $60 (but offensively cheap overseas)

Riecine Chianti Classico (2003?) and Cordero di Montezemolo Nebbiolo d’Alba (2008?)

There is an epidemic of procreation currently sweeping through my circle of friends. Another week, another child - or two, or three, or four.

Recently, the impending (and now current) parenthood of some close friends meant that I was called into action to participate in the lesser-known spectacle of the “daddy-shower”.

So, while the ladies were at the babyshower-proper getting busy hazing the foetus, scarfing cake, and tickle-fighting (or whatever other secret women's business is conducted on these occasions), us lesser-halves went to a good restaurant and drank solidly for the afternoon.

Because the daddy is a recently converted Italianophile, after lunch we washed up at nearby Enoteca 1889 where the owner generously opened up a table for us between services and took us through a selection of his wares.

We started with a Nebbiolo from Cordero di Montezemolo in the Piedmont region. For reference, if Puglia is the heel of the Italianate CFM boot, then Piedmont is the sweet inner thigh at the very top, nestled as it is in the mounded foothills of the Alps and the Apennines.

This nebbiolo pours out with a delicious shade of Ruby Heartstealer red, and one whiff leaves you in no doubt that this baby has more body than a Berlusconi Bunga Bunga. The drinking is a doncamatic beatdown of brute force and raw earthiness. It was perhaps a little closed, but then again it was very young (2008 I think) - which may be alright for the likes of Silvio, but I tend to prefer a little age both in wine and in women. My advice: give it another year or two, and stay out of jail.

We moved on then to freshen up proceedings with a nice little Tuscan Chianti Classico by Riecine (2003, I think – it was a long session). This was the out and out winner for me on the day.

It was as perky as an angry nipple and similarly coloured. I liked it immediately.

It’s a medium-bodied Sangiovese-based wine made in the usual way, and it reminded me a lot of that odd (but delicious) combination of strawberries dipped in balsamic vinegar. Fresh and lusciously fruity, with a long, spicy fistful of tannic punch to round out each mouthful. The nose was young, plum, and full of come-hither aromas that demanded extended nostril time.

The other nice thing about Tuscan wine is that they claim not to use sulphides, and so, supposedly, Tuscan hangovers are just that much nicer. It’s a theory I can happily vouch for because, despite consuming a skinful and falling into a coma that resembled the sleep of a thousand dead camels, I woke up fresh as a daisy the next day.

Salute.

e cent' anni, di bambino Luca.

Riecine Chianti Classico (2003?)
Rating: 9/10
Drink with: a plate of liver and some fava beans
Price: $47 (retail from Enoteca 1889)


Cordero di Montezemolo Nebbiolo d’Alba (2008?)
Rating: 8/10
Drink with: Karima El Mahroug
Price: $51 (retail from Enoteca 1889)

http://www.riecine.it/landing.php

http://www.corderodimontezemolo.it/welcome_eng.lasso
http://www.1889enoteca.com.au/wine.htm

Open That Bottle Night - Sat, 26 February

www.openthatbottle.net

Fantastic concept this.

Essentially, the idea is to encourage us all to get around to opening that special bottle of wine which has been hiding in the bottom of the cellar for years.

A great excuse to open (and appreciate) a great bottle of wine at the beginning of the evening.

I think it's a great idea as far too many of my "special" bottles are only ever foolishly opened at the end of a drunken evening, long after my taste-buds have left the building...

All aboard.

Witches Falls 2008 Granite Belt Grenache

I've been watching the trend nervously for years.

First came the adoption of the man-bag. Then David Beckham came out wearing a skirt, and a brigade of little Emo popstars led a dubious dash back into the world of male mascara.

Not long after followed the troubling occasion when my 10-year-old nephew informed me that he needed some money to buy nail polish.

"We've already had Mother's Day, mate", I told him.

"No, stupid, it's for me. All the cool kids are doing it. I think I might go for a nice shade of French black", he replied.

"How about a nice shade of harden-the-French-up, sonny?", I muttered. "And it wouldn't kill you to get a haircut either."

And then, this morning, came the straw that finally broke my camel's back. As I waited in line at my favourite little caffe bar for my daily doppio, the bloke (and I use the term loosely) in front of me placed an order for something which he described as a "weak soy chai latte". I don't know what that is and I have no desire to find out, but it sounded like he should have been ordering it for his grandmother. At Starbucks.

What I do know is that I felt emasculated just standing next to him, and found myself wishing fervently for Derek Zoolander to walk around the corner and start a freak gasoline-fight incident in downtown Eagle Street.

And so, in the interest of suppressing the metrosexual Revlon-revolution and reviving some good old Johnny Weissmuller-type masculinity, this week I'm revisiting a big, bruising red that was dished up to me during the Christmas party season at a restaurant where the walls are decorated with butchered bovine and the seats are upholstered with their hides.

The wine compendium in this upmarket meat-market was thicker than Ricky Nixon's skull, and offered at least seventy-five gazillion options. As there were a few of us, we decided to put two different straight (un-metrosexual) grenaches head-to-head. Being that we were also trying to prove a point about good quality Queensland wine to a southerner with a superiority complex, our first pick was the Witches Falls 2008 Granite Belt Grenache. The second was a Barossan offering weighing in at almost twice the price of the local contender.

They came accompanied by outrageously generous slabs of Wagyu rump served up roasted, rubbed and blushingly rare; an artery-choking carnivore's delight requiring the lubrication of equally powerful wine.

The waiter kindly carafed the contesting wines so that we could pick the winner without the influence of labels and reputation. And, you guessed it, the champion by unanimous points decision was...the youngster from Queensland. I was as (pleasingly) surprised as anybody.

So, how was it?

It pours out with a patriotic maroon glow (much deeper than the Barossan), and the heavy alcohol (15%) shows itself off with thick dark legs dancing around the glass like a Beyoncé filmclip.

Give it a little time to open up, and the nose is a super-scented bomb of turkish delight sweetness, with a heated, spicy edge that alerts you to the beast lurking within.

It might be missing an apostrophe, but it’s not lacking in flavour. The drinking is a warm (but not over-cooked) food fight of plummy, egotistical goodness. A hegemonic hit of fine, saliva inducing tannin rounds out the experience.

Definitely a case of the bear in the glass dealing comprehensively with the bull on the plate. I had no idea that Qld wine could be this good.

At the end of the meal, I was stuffed and sleepy and felt like someone had slipped me a Jeffrey. All that remained was to stroke the furry wall and follow my Destiny.

Boom chicka wah wah.

In truth, both wines were good, and the Qld'er only just edged the Crow Eater for mine. But at the price, and for this much power and finesse, the Witches Falls also represents good value.

And if a restaurant takes this much care even at the cheaper end of its list, imagine what the top shelves are like. I'm looking forward to revisiting them - just as soon as they finish pumping the floodwater out of the basement, and with the boss is picking up the cheque of course.

Rating: 8.5/10
Drink with: Eat more beef, you bastards!
Price: $27 retail ($49-$65 in restaurants)

http://www.witchesfalls.com.au/ourwines/restaurants_and_outlets

http://www.moomoorestaurant.com/B_ABOUT.ews

Westend Estate 2008 Three Bridges Golden Mist Botrytis

Shane Warne. Is there anything, or anyone, this man cannot do?

A gentlemen and a scholar if ever there was one. Well, maybe not a scholar. But a gentleman certainly. For this week, the great man delivered us the authoritative lesson in class.

On the day that his latest conquest - the most shagadelic Ms Hurley - arrived to pay him a visit downunder, not only did he take the time to have someone clip the hedge, vacuum his rug, and install some privacy screens on the front gate, he also ensured that he took delivery of a "fresh" mattress for the occasion.

And that, my friends, is pure, unadulterated class. Okay, so again, maybe "unadulterated" is the wrong word. But nonetheless, you get my drift.

After all, a man must always have a good clean workbench, particularly when he is expecting a fembot for the weekend.

And so then, from one gentleman to another; this time a man widely acknowledged as a true gentleman of the Australian wine business, Mr Bill Calabria of Westend Estate in NSW.

I confess I’ve not actually met the chap, mainly because I’m too scared to visit the Griffith area after watching the second series of Underbelly. But many other wine writers are quite adamant that he’s a truly great bloke. And being that these people are real, proper writers who have had their words printed in magazines and on newspapers, I’m prepared to accept that what they say must be true.

The thing that caught my eye when it comes to Bill though, is that he is ironically unique amongst winemakers...He is a teetotaller.

Not by choice mind you. It seems the poor fellow suffers the most unenviable affliction of being allergic to alcohol.

Imagine for a moment, if you will, the sheer torment of this situation. Being born into a prominent wine family. Going on to yourself become a talented and acclaimed winemaker. And all the while you can never enjoy the sweet product of your labours. Not a drop.

It would be like Enzo Ferrari suffering from car-sickness. Or Warnie having an allergy to vaginas.

Fortunately for Bill, it seems he has learned to bear his burden, while at the same time mastering his craft, by utilising the undoubtedly unsatisfying “sip and spit” method.

As Bill says on his website, ‘One does not have to swallow to know whether it is good or bad.’ I expect Ms Hurley will be nodding in agreement with that sentiment come Monday morning.

If you’re still reading this (and hopefully my Mum stopped reading some time ago), you’re probably hoping that I’m going to get to the wine shortly.

So, let’s do it. The Golden Mist Botrytis Semillon.

I bought it after reading a while back that it had beaten the uber-famous Chateau d’Yquem Sauternes in some far off wine show.

Now, I don’t know it’s that good. But it certainly is one delicious little sticky, let me tell you that. And, at $20 a pop, you can buy 40 of these for the price of one bottle of d’Yquem.

It gives off a subtle golden glow in the glass, but despite the pallor, it has a lovely, thick lusciousness in the mouth. It’s big and fat and full of tongue-coating flavour.

It tastes like it smells, with a truckload of intensely ripe tropical fruit, and finishing with a clever surprise of warmth and clarity.

I’d happily wash down a plate of cheese and bikkies with a bottle of this anytime.

All this is my very longwinded way of saying that this is a very nice little bottle of plonk.

Get one up ya. Before Warnie does.

Rating: 8.75/10
Drink with: S.K. Warne
Price: $20

www.westendestate.com.au

Coldstream Hills 2006 Reserve Shiraz

This summer the world has been turned fully upside down.

Despite the baggy green disguise, our cricketers have been wielding their willow in a manner embarrassingly more reminiscent of Tufnell than Trumper.

At the same time, the English have somehow extended their stiff upper-lips so far south that for the first time in living memory they have something resembling a backbone, as well as a determination that is seemingly as unbending as Shane Warne's todger.

On top of that, the Aussie dollar is now more sound than the pound, the average house will cost you more in Sydney than it will in London, and the recent weather has meant that there are more carrot-faced fake tanners on Brisbane streets than in an Essex beauty salon.

Brisbane has seen more water than Noah could poke an ark at, and our once famously hot summer has been more miserable than an Englishman nursing a cold beer.

The upshot of all this is that because it’s been cold and wet when it should be hot and sticky, I’ve found myself unable to enjoy the usual array of chilly white wines hibernating in my fridge, and have had to instead warm my cockles with some fortifying reds.

My favourite drop during the past few weeks has undoubtedly been the Coldstream Hills 2006 Reserve Shiraz.

This little gem hails from the Yarra Valley winery founded by that doyen of wine-writers, Mr James Halliday. To avoid criticism, he quite properly declines to score his own wines. So, for what it’s worth, I’ll have a go for you instead.

It pours out into the glass with a remarkably bright purple splash, and smells sweetly of spiced fruit, cinnamon, and a savoury, earthy goodness. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. Smile.

The drinking is all class. As you might expect of a cool climate shiraz, the drinking is elegant and layered, and absolutely silky smooth. No hint of punchiness at all. It’s medium-bodied and just chock full of finesse. There’s plums, cherries, and a pinch of pepper to spice things up and fondle a few of your erogenous zones as it slips past your lips.

I have no hesitation in saying that it’s drinking stunningly well now, but equally have no doubt that my second bottle will hold up nicely in the cellar for a few more years. And at $40, you’d rightly expect it to.

I drank this with friends after a hard day spent sweeping mud and placing people’s lifelong possessions into heartbreaking piles by the side of the road. As we drank, we commiserated with all these poor people unmercifully wiped out by the floods. And then thanked our lucky stars that we live on a hill.

www.qld.gov.au/floods/donate.html

Rating: 9.25/10 (or say, 95 on the Halliday scale)
Drink with: Liz Hurley
Price: $40

www.coldstreamhills.com.au

The Wine W@nk’s Top Ten Christmas Tipples

The French have a saying: “Retreat!”.

Sorry, that’s not quite right – they would actually say, “Retraite, uh-huh-huh-huh!”

They have another saying which I like almost as much: “Everything in moderation, including moderation.”

Words to live by this holiday season. So, let’s roll.

Breakfast wine

Grant Burge 2010 Moscato Frizzante

Young, dumb, and full of gum.

And at a leisurely 7.6% alcohol, this is exactly what you want to be tapping into on Christmas morning with your eggs and that first sneaky carve of ham.

It’s sweet. Fruity. Delicious. Very refreshing.

Up ya bum!

Rating: 8 Drink with: Ham and eggs Price: $13-$16

Bubbles

Bubbles are compulsory at Christmas time, so herewith a tidy little selection of sparklers to suit a diversity of budgets and tastes.

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Ruinart Blanc de Blanc NV

I have to say first up that I’m a big fan of the House of Ruinart. It has one of the most incredible chalk cellars in Champagne, and the plonk isn’t too bad either.

Old St Nicolas (Ruinart, that is) spruiks some good quality wine w@nkerisms in talking up his product. First we have this gem: “its glistening, pale gold colour with soft green glints seem to reflect the warm summer light...”. And then this: “a subtle, refined nose of acacia and honeysuckle follows through and sings on the palate with lovely elegance and delicacy...“.

Stop-stop talk-talking that blah, blah, blah.

All you really need to know is that this is seriously great stuff. It comes served up in a Cristal-emulating clear bottle which shows off its golden curves nicely and adds that little bit of hip-hop mogul caché.

And the drinking is quite simply superb. Ambitious. Capricious. And absolutely delicious.

Or as the hip-hoppers might say: Fly. Like a G-6.

Be sure to pop the top off a bottle or two this New Year’s Eve.

Rating: 9.5 Drink with: Crystal Price: $99
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Jansz Tasmania Premium NV Cuvee

If the budget doesn’t stretch to Frenchy bubbles, you can quite happily take the more frugal option and go local with this little champ.

Believe you me, I’ve done a lot of research on this topic for you people recently, and can confidently say that this is fully one of the creamiest and most flavoursome Aussie sparklers available on the market today.

I even invented a new word for it: amazifying.

So, there you go. You should definitely buy a couple of these to drink this Christmas. Or maybe just shake them up like a polaroid and pretend like you’ve just won a Grand Prix. At only $20, who really cares.

Rating: 8.5 Drink with: Mark Webber Price $22
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Domaine Chandon Sparkling Pinot Shiraz NV

I must say that I find it really quite hard to like rosé. I have tried, and I have failed.

But I do accept that a lot of you (or more probably your girlfriends) do enjoy this kind of thing. And so, with that in mind, I have searched long and hard for something in this style with a bit of substance.

And this then is the fruit of my labour.

Moët’s more modest Australian cousin (Domaine Chandon) produces this unusual little drop which I think gives some pretty good bang for your buck.

The pretty red sparkles are as gay as Christmas, and the drinking is actually very, very good. Almost meaty, but light and refreshing at the same time.

If you have to put bubbles in your red, I suspect that this is the only way you should be doing it.

Rating: 8.5 Drink with: Discretion Price: $29

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Whites

Fire Gully 2008 Chardonnay

Fire Gully is the newish little brother label of the estimable Margaret River stalwart, Pierro. I like them – partly because they sent me free samples – but mostly because they make some cracking wines at decent prices.

The cream of the crop, as you’d expect from Margy, is the Chardonnay.

It’s a nubile concoction of rich, buttery goodness combined with a light and lingering lug of summer fruit. Great badge on the bottle too.

Take the tip from me: whack this little chardy on ice for Christmas lunch, team it up with some turkey and roast tatties, and tuck in.

Best be quick though – or Great Aunty Sharon will pinch the bottle, mix in some ice cubes and start drinking it through a straw. How very, very dare she.

Rating: 8.75 Drink without: ice cubes Price: $28
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Bay of Fires 2009 Pinot Gris

I love Pinot Gris. It’s the perfect summer white wine. Fresh, fruity, and best served icy cold.

Some find it ubiquitous and insipid, but you just have to find the right one. And this is certainly one of those.

The drinking is like sticking your head straight into a bowl of summer stonefruit. It’s full of flavour and begging to top up its own glass.

I’ve even found a Christmas connection because the nose has an earthy aroma that is pure Christmas pine needle.

If the sun is shining, this is what I’ll be drinking at about 3 o’clock Saturday afternoon between the overs of backyard cricket.

Rating: 8.25 Drink with: Stuart Surridge Price: $25

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Suckfizzle 2006 Sauvignon Blanc Semillon

I’m not sure what a Suckfizzle is. It sounds like a euphemism for a dud root, but I’m sure that’s not it.

In any event, this is a frankly sensational wine and if you want to impress the relatives, this is just the ticket. At $42 a pop, it’s not cheap, but it’s definitely worth it.

Big, citrusy, and unctuous. If you’re a seafood family on Christmas, this is unquestionably what you should be sucking down with your prawns.

Special. Like fried rice. And definitely not a fizzler.

Rating: 9.25 Drink with: BBQ prawns Price: $42
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Reds

Fox Creek 2008 Short Row McLaren Vale Shiraz

If it’s cold and wet on Christmas day as promised, you might be searching for something warm and with a bit of body. And a tasty Shiraz wouldn’t be bad either.

This little fellow has an awesomely earthy and intense smell – like going truffling in the soil with your own nose.

The drinking is full of dark cherries and chocolate, cloves and cinnamon. And we all know that everything tastes better with cinnamon.

Yum!

Rating: 9 Drink with: Uncle Bob Price:$29

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Afters

Frogmore Creek 2008 Iced Riesling

What is it with all the Tasmanian wine in this list? You'd expect most Taswegians would be too busy shagging their sisters to have time to make decent wine, but they are clearly a talented bunch of multi-taskers down there in the crotchal region of the nation.

This gear is the perfect end to a big meal. Grab a wedge of sharp cheese, a slice of whatever fruit is lying about, a couple of bikkies, and a nice little glass of this baby.

It's not as heavy or intense as Noble One, but it certainly doesn't lack in flavour. It's limey, luscious and long in the mouth.

Just a glass will do. And then settle in for a quick power nap to recharge the batteries for a second sitting of Christmas fare.

Rating: 9.5 Drink with: someone else's sister Price: $25 (375ml)

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De Bortoli Black Noble NV

By the end of Christmas day, when the rellies are sitting around half cut and grinning from beer to beer, the last thing anyone usually feels like is more food.

Generally, all you need is a thin slice of Christmas cake, maybe a fruit mince pie, and something wet to wash it down with.

And this is the answer. The illustrious Noble One forms the base of this fortified gem which tells you most of what you need to know.

It is a soporific pharmacopoeia of intense golden elixer. It's thick and rich and coats your mouth with a concentration of everything that is Christmas.

Stick a fork in me. I'm done. The perfect end to the day.

Rating: 9.75 Drink with: Christmas cake Price: $30 (375ml)

Claymore 2009 Joshua Tree Riesling

With Bono and the boys rocking BrisVegas tonight, I thought it was an appropriate time to tuck into this topically named youngster.

The Claymore Joshua Tree Riesling hails from the Clare Valley, which is always a good place to look for quality riesling.

The Clare is a rugged sort of place. Some might say it’s a place where the streets have no names. Where all the colours bleed into one and the landscape turns into rust: beaten and blown by the wind and trampled in dust.

But it’s a fact that the best grapes are often borne out of the toughest patches of dirt. And so it is with the Joshua Tree Riesling. It’s a little ripper.

It smells sweetly like coconut oil sunscreen smeared on a lightly toasted German backpacker named Heidi. There's also a floral note that may or may not be lent by Heidi's limey daiquiri.

The drinking is like kissing honeyed lips. It delivers yielding deliciousness, accompanied by a stirring feeling of rigidity. It’s mouth-wateringly crisp and just a little bit punchy. In short, it’s cool, delicious and quite simply superb.

Granted, it hasn’t been too hot so far this December. But by the time Christmas rolls around, it will be baking and you’ll be begging for some nice, cool refreshment.

And so, when you sit down with your plate of leftover turkey to watch the Boxing Day Test, do yourself a favour and pour yourself a nice chilly glass of the Claymore. I’ve got a feeling you might need a drink regardless of the weather (unless of course you’re South African English).

And at only $18 for the Joshua Tree, I think I might actually have found what I’m looking for.

But you'll have to get your own. Because this Claymore is mine.

All I know is that I’m going to enjoy it. With or without you.

Rating: 8.75
Drink with: The Edge
Price: $18

www.claymorewines.com.au