The vast absence of anything plausibly viewable on television this evening has forced me to make a quick mid-week interlude post. The essence of this post is purely to praise the efforts of the plentiful bottle-o, and specifically the shining beacon that saved my weary self last weekend when shopping last minute for a meaningful fathers day gift.
Wine is to Sydney what stars are to Hollywood. At every nook and cranny you can find yourself a rising starlet, a look-a-like in fancy makeup or just someone who looks like if they were given the right chance in life, that they surely would have the opportunity to make it big. REALLY BIG like that old favourite the Oyster Bay Sauvignon Blanc. But really, wasn't he just a one trick pony who got lucky? Shiny and slick, portraying the exact same character until his time ran out? But a true celebrity sighting; they are few and far between, only likely on Rodeo Drive and a few fancy underground celebrity haunts.
Everywhere you go in Sydney you can find someone willing to fill your glass and have a merry little time with you. But that does not make a star. A star is created through the innate pedigree of the grape, the perfection of the childhood and the care taken to nurture the talent. This natural ability must then be cultivated by the most precise and meticulous hands that manage the development of the talent to its maturity. Once this divine specimen has been created and moulded he needs a sharp eye to recognise his brilliance and have the capability to put him on display to his adorning public.
The craftsmanship of wine is not only in its production, bottling and distribution, but it is also dependent on fine men and women who slave away, seeing, swirling, sniffing and sipping all that they can to deliver us only the best (and most sale-able) wines. This post goes out to all those in the industry who put everything on the line to stock their bottle shops with the very best wines.
This blog also goes out to my new best friend Dan Murphy. I must admit initially I thought he was just one of those guys, you know, friends with everyone, too cool for school, who just knew where the next party was and just wanted to go get loose with whatever wine he could get his hands on. WELL... boy oh boy was I wrong, and I am more than happy to admit it.
Last Saturday afternoon, I managed to combine a family necessity with my own personal interests. Many would be thinking that it is a little silly to write this on a public blog, however my family are all too well informed of how my brain works, they just choose to ignore. Thus, I continue... knowing that we had to buy my father a 'Father's Day present' and that my mother was otherwise engaged in the afternoon I suggested that it would be a great idea to buy all the different types of wine from all around the world as specified in the 'Everyday Guide to Wine' Seminar series that Louis had bought for me, and that we could study it together. Mama Guigs said ok.
At 4pm Saturday afternoon I made my way to the dungeon that is Dan Murphy's at Hurstville. Not knowing what to expect I walked in trying to avoid any preconceived ideas. To my delight, almost instantaneously I was transported to my own 'stately pleasure-dome decree'. As I pushed a shallow trolley through well greased turnstiles my eyes light up like glittering signs in Times Square. I was in heaven. Could I be dreaming, or was this heavenly place on earth?
I pushed my trolley through the snake like aisles 'meandering with mazy motion'. The shear size and volume of wine on offer was intoxicating, I was drunk with just the thought. Several times on my quest to acquire wines and vintages from across the globe I was simply at a loss, until the carefully marked regions almost sung to me, France and Italy and Chile oh my!
Let's just say I left with all that I could carry, which I must admit is not the first time I have said that, and I doubt it will be the last. Louis was a happy father on father's day, and Denise was glad that we had succeeded in getting him a present. Guigs was glad that she had more supply to practice on. The readers were glad they were entertained by this mid-week interlude. The end.
References in this blog alluded to Coleridge's Kubla Khan. I never thought I would say, but Dan Murphy's might just be a little piece of heaven to a wine enthusiast.
No comments:
Post a Comment