The Passionate Ones

Nothing can spark fluid interesting conversation more rapidly then when a passionate person meets a keen ear. This is most certainly true of those passionate about wine, especially the ones who have dedicated a life to working with the drink of the gods.


Sommeliers get a bad wrap though. The gap between the regular bottleshop drinker and a so called wine expert is vast. It is like the difference between the very poor and the very rich in a country like Russia. There is no rising middle class or a Robin Hood character stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. Sadly it is not possible to steal knowledge and those are the riches of which we speak when classifying the difference between the wine rich and the wine poor.


Most of the time the poor are intimidated by the fancy words and practiced customs of the upper class. The swirling of the glass, the sniffing of an array of aromas that would be more suited to a fruit salad and the taste of great length which would mean to any normal person the distance from Bondi Junction to Bondi Beach when one can not find a bus. It is almost like another language and the secret, well guarded manners of behaviour is what prevents those at the bottom of the ladder rising into the middle class. 


There is a sub culture emerging though, a rumbling under the pace of the city where those who are passionate about wine are teaching those who are keen to explore without the fear of being ridiculed while they learn the dance. You have probably seen them popping up around town. They are small cafe sized bars that offer wine from here to kingdom come. In these little havens if you are keen to learn, you are most likely to find a teacher more than willing to spend a little time with you and impart some of their wisdom.


I recently met one such tutor at the Wine Library in Paddington. He was tall and handsome, (which didn't hurt) but it was his 20 years in the industry and willingness to share with two simple wine enthusiasts that made for a great evening. When approaching the wine list with wines from every region of the globe we were at a loss. With more words that we could not pronounce than could, some inside help was required.


My friend Stephanie and I were looking for something within the realm of Pinot Gris. I remembered that I had tasted the most divine Pinot Blanc from Bar H in Surry Hills, and was looking for something similar. Within 2 minutes there were four glasses on our table and four distinctly different bottles of wine that were along the same lines as what we had requested. The first one we tried was the Luis Pato from Portugal. Quite a dry wine somewhat like a sauvignon blanc, it wasn't particularly to my taste however it was interesting to taste a wine from Portugal which was a first for me.


The traditional Pinot Grigio from Italy was next, again a nice wine but was missing that extra something that we were looking for. The third wine was an Austrian named Gobelsburger which turned out to be the hero of the night with a medium build and floral essence. Finally we finished with a taste of a South Australian viognier. Steph noticed that the fruit in this wine could be tasted at the front of the mouth. After something I had read recently I concurred agreeing that the wine had upfront fruit characteristics, to which I got a sideways glance and a half smile from Gavin who responded 'hmm... you sound like a right wanker'. Note to self, ridiculous words to which I really do not now the meaning are not cool.


Our little tasting worked a treat. We were shown a progression of wines made in the same style from around the world and could identify some differences. We settled on a nice wine which we enjoyed over some delicious foie gras and good conversation. The perfect evening really.


The point of the story is simple. The people who generally work in these quaint little bars do so because they have a passion for wine. Do not be intimidated to ask for their opinion or for them to show you a few different wines to taste. More than likely they will be so thrilled to share their passion with you that you will be asking them to leave your table to enjoy your wine in peace.


Until next time, have a glass for me. Love Alex Mac

Everyone Has a Type

Without being controversial... I would like to classify all the delights that I have encountered throughout my life into three broad categories. Now before anyone gets upset let me please precede my analysis with a small disclaimer that I learnt along the way somewhere.
When you begin with a stereotype then you have nothing of substance; but when you begin with a person you can identify cultural elements that enable you to categorise and thereby make a stereotype.

It is between the 30th and 50th parallel on both the northern and southern hemispheres that generally suitors are known to come from. Further north than the northern most parts of France is simply far too cold to nurture development; below Tasmania there is nothing other then Eskimos and Polar Bears, and near the equator is simply far to hot. During a period known as the growing season the little buds blossom into full grown version we love. It is the stark difference in the growing season that sets the end result apart.


The Mediterraneans

These sun kissed sweeties are the type that any woman would fall head over heels for. During the rite of passage known as the growing season they are known to lay for days on end in the moderate to warm temperatures. In summer time they frolic in the sun with little change in the temperature during the winter. Perhaps a light cardigan is required but only when enforced by their nagging mothers. Seldom do they worry about taking an umbrella as there is little chance of rain. The rainfall is often less than required and mothers ensure their boys water intake is supplemented. These types are generally found in Tuscany and most other regions in Italy, Southern France, Catalonia in Spain, California and South & Western Australia.


The Continentals
It is possible to tell a continental simply by looking in their wardrobe. There will be light cotton tops for the hot summer and then by extreme contrast thick coats and gloves for very cold winters. They are not particularly good swimmers as they generally come from places that are inland and far from the ocean. If visiting during the growing season it is important to remember to take light clothing for the day and something very warm for the evening as the temperature differs quite drastically. The vast difference in temperatures means that even four brothers from the same family will actually turn our quite differently due to the rain, hail or sun through their sensitive development time. It has often even been noted that the graduating class from one year is very different from the next. From experience, you have most likely picked up a continental if he is from Northern France (a particular favourite), a Spaniard from Rioja, an Austrian or Argentinean.


The Maritimes

Kissing the war goodbye

As the name suggests these fellows are water loving lads. Often perceived as the perfect combination of the sun loving mediterraneans and the turtleneck wearing continentals. Like their continental cousins the Maritimes have short sleeved summers and winters by the fire, however the seasons are not as drastically different therefore you won't have to pack everything you own for a visit. These sailor types are known to come from Bordeaux in France, Rias Baixas in Spain, Oregon in the USA and all throughout the land of the All Blacks, New Zealand.


And for those who like it plain and simple. There are three common climates that wine is produced Mediterranean, Continental and Maritime. The changes in the weather during the grape growing season determines the types of grapes that can be produced and the flavours that develop within them. Just a little something to drop at your next dinner party. 


Until next time, have a glass for me Alex Mac.

Wine & Cycling - Mendoza's Risky Business

Steph and I in Mendoza

It is in the eastern foothills of the Andes that our tale begins today. In an area of lush green abundance, set in the shadow of Mount Aconcagua two McGuigan sisters took upon a great feat that many would have never believed would come to pass.

The two sisters found themselves in the town of Mendoza Argentina, after having partied their way through South America looking for a place to unwind. They sought sun and relaxation by the pool to soothe their weary dancing feet. Considering that Mendoza accounts for two thirds of the wine produced in Argentina, this was perhaps not the wisest destination for those looking for a brief sabbatical from alcohol, but as they say hindsight is a wonderful thing.

The girls arrived to their hostel on the main street of the town looking a little dishevelled and in need of a rest. Beads of perspiration formed on their foreheads from a climate that resembled semi-arid desert conditions. Hoping that the heat would settle down Alexandra (the older and wiser of the sisters) asked the girl at the front desk what the weather was normally like, to which she replied with a Spanish accent:

“It is a continental climate. We have very hot temperatures in the summer and very cold temperatures in the winter. During the spring and summer there are wide variations of temperature being very hot during the day and very cold in the evening.”

Stephanie and Alexandra looked at each other a little puzzled by the detail of her answer but politely thanked her and went to their room to plan their time in the wine capital of Argentina.

The bikes

Much to the dismay of Alexandra, it seemed that the most important tourist activity to do in Mendoza was the famous winery bike tour. Now to the average capable person this might sound like a delightful way to spend a day, however if you are anything like the bicycly challenged Alex McGuigan you will understand that this was frightening… very frightening. To say that this poor soul was challenged is an understatement. Two near fatal accidents had seen the end of her cycling career nearly 20 years earlier. One nearly saw her sucking her food through a straw and the other, with a knocked out front tooth and lip reconstruction. It was not so much that she couldn’t ride a bike; it was just that she couldn’t stop which is actually a crucial element in the whole bike riding experience.

Stephanie had a small battle on her hands convincing the retired athlete to get back on her bike but not wanting to let the team down Alex agreed. With beading perspiration once again on their faces they made their way to the bike hire shop. Confidence waning a little Alex placed her helmet sturdy on her head and lifted her leg to straddle the bike. As she lifted the leg it caught on a stray piece of metal that sliced straight through the skin of her right knee. Before they had even left the hire store, blood was pouring profusely from the knee. Despite the set back they continued to greener pastures.

The first winery that they came to was a lovely little family vineyard which produced Malbec, a type of red wine which has become the widest planted grape in the Mendoza region as it thrives in the conditions with an average annual temperature of 15° C. The sisters tasted a few different vintages and tended to the wound before heading off to the next winery on the map.

 

After what seemed like an eternity in the 40°C  they turned up at a cellar door that had the familiar presence and stainless steel design of Tempus Two in Australia’s Hunter Valley. Sure enough when they entered the winery and looked at the logo, labels and design the label was named ‘Tempus Alba’. Suspicious of its origin they questioned the waitress who claimed that the winery had been there for eight years, which as it turns out is less than the existence of Tempus Two.

Notice a similarity?

The Argentinean version

Delighted with the possibility of the scandal, the two sisters relaxed on the balcony of the divine setting enjoying a delicious Malbec Rose and cheese platter, whilst stealthily collecting photographic evidence of the mimic brand.

 Nothing was ever done about the suspected copyright infringement. The importance of the scandal seemed to   diminish whilst they sipped on Mendoza’s into the afternoon. The outing ended without any further injuries and was a lovely experience, even if we only made it to two wineries. The footage below is a snippet from the day. Until next time, have a glass for me. Alex Mac

Sake-ing it up at Zushi Crown St

Lovely Amelia

I was at a birthday dinner a few weeks back and caught up with an old friend who said that she had seen my blog and asked when I would be looking into sake. To be perfectly honest I had not thought about it at all until she brought it up, and since then I have wondered what the experience would be like.

Now sake is not traditional wine made from grapes, it is actually rice wine and is the common beverage that the Japanese pair with their many delicious dishes. Last Friday night in the company of my divine designer friend Amelia, with an appetite and curiosity we attended our first sake tasting at my all time favourite Japanese restaurant Zushi on Crown Street.

Super fresh sashimi and oysters... YUMMO!

The hostess with the most-ess of this super trendy Surry Hills restaurant is a tanned skinned beauty of Eurasian appearance with almond eyes. If the quality of the food and atmosphere weren't so on the money, you might be fooled into thinking that the beauties who work here were the reason the restaurant is always packed to the rafters.

We took our seat in the mezzanine level calmly situated in our own little world observing the frenzy of activity below. Captivated in catching up on what had been taking place in each other’s lives, Amelia and I didn't even have time to look at the menu before we had vibrant pinks and oranges shimmering into our eyes from moment fresh sashimi and Sydney's best oysters that had been placed in front of us. We were told that the best sake to pair fresh seafood with is a semi dry fruity sake that should be served chilled. We tried a KOSHINOHATSUUME from the best sake-producing region in Japan, Junmai. It was crisp and fresh with a hint of melons and apples. This pairing was actually Delicious! 

Sake-ing it up!

Next we were treated to my absolute favourite dish the 'ocean roll'. It is just the most delicately constructed and beautifully sushi roll I have ever seen. I could eat this every day and never get bored. I thought the roll itself was special enough, but when followed by our second sake a semi-dry nutty style called NINKI-ICHI the 15.5% alcohol and flavour explosion in my mouth is not something that I will forget in a while.

Loving our sake tasting

After that experience I wasn't sure that our hostess could produce anything better, but one more time she upped the anti and pulled out her ace. The meal was finished with a green tea crème brulee that was so intoxicating that it almost had me reaching for a cigarette. The crème base was thick and golden but spread wide in two person sized dish. The crystallised toffee top snapped in one fell swoop under our spoons and literally took us out of this world when washed down with the plum infused HANA-KOHAKU sake. This is TO-DIE-FOR! 

As you can imagine, after this royal treatment we almost had to roll ourselves out of there. Amelia rightly mentioned that this type of work might take its toll on ones waistline. I tend to agree but would like you to know that I am willing to put myself on the line for my readers and a desperate love of wine.

Zushi 

Shop 2A, 285A Crown St 

Surry Hills NSW 2010

http://www.zushi.com.au/

Drinking Chardie with Sarah Nally

My first wine adventure of the week took place on Thursday evening with Lady Sarah Nally. Ms Nally and I lived together in a large Darlinghurst terrace with two other flat mates during a time where DJ's for parties were paid with a case of beer, when riding a mattress down a staircase was a completely normal pass time and upsetting neighbours when party guests urinated on their pot plants was just part of life. A few weeks ago I was delighted to hear from my darling friend who I had lost contact with over the past few years and we set up a wine date.

We met at the very sophisticated Bambini Trust wine bar. The interior of this space is what I imagine the manor that I intend to live in one day might look like (the decor... not the bar, although a bar might be nice). The walls are covered with European inspired wallpaper, French chandeliers and cute brasserie like tables. The wall of wine screams knowledge and status without appearing pretentious. Just across from the lush green of Hyde Park this little wine bar has the potential of great beauty when sitting on the tables outside, it is a shame about the six lanes of traffic though.

Miss Nally  and I spent no time at all getting reacquainted. It was almost like it was meant to be. When she asked me what I was drinking, I explained about Oui Merci Wine Club and that this month we were drinking Chardonnay. I was surprised that this was absolutely to her utmost delight. "I have always drunk Chardonnay" she commented, a statement that took me somewhat by surprise "Even when everyone hated Chardonnay?" I asked in response. 

Apparently so. She divulged a touching story of the difficulty of being a Chardonnay drinker when all others loved Sauvignon Blanc. For a point it even compromised her relationship. "We would go to the bottle shop together and it would always result in a compromise, or alternatively two bottles,” she confessed with downcast eyes. She told me that people would look at her funny, sometimes sneer but the worst were the ones who tried to make her change her mind.

A classically strong woman, Sarah stuck to her guns and one day received a call from her North English born beau, she answered the phone completely unexpecting what she heard "Babe... Ai luv chard-nay... Ai luv it!” he had tried some delicious Leewin Estate Chardonnay and was converted. From that moment their relationship was strengthened by a mutual love for chardonnay. Sean and Sarah are now engaged and will most likely be drinking chardonnay at their wedding. Ok, I made that last bit up, but it makes a nice ending doesn't it?

Sarah Nally all grown up

Me and my chardie

We spent the evening going through the wine list and trying a number of different styles from different regions. Our ignorance in this circumstance did not do us any justice as we started with heavier styles than we wanted to end with. When we tried different lighter versions later in the evening they made our mouths pucker at the sides and seemed far to acidic. It did teach us a valuable lesson though, before ordering wine make sure you speak to the wine waiter or manager. More than likely they will be able to guide you to what it is you are looking for, and if like us you want a few they will be able to tell you which order to drink them to savour the enjoyment of each and every one.

Check out Bambini Wine Room for yourself at http://www.bambinitrust.com.au/

I would love to know your thoughts.

As for the next thing... last night I was treated to an amazing sake experience at my favourite Japanese restaurant in the world, Zushi on Crown Street. You will have to wait until the next post to hear about that one though but here is the link to wet your appetite http://www.zushi.com.au/. 

Have a super doper weekend. Love Guigs.

Backlash on a Hero

I feel sorry for poor little old Chardonnay. Now days it seems is like the little old battler that just can't seem to catch a break. Very few of today's youth would know the true story of Chardonnay. It is a harrowing tale of the rise of an international superstar who found fame and fortune from Hollywood to London, but then lost everything and became a laughing stock that filled the worst dressed pages of trashy magazines. I truly believe that it is not all over for Chardonnay and hope you will have the compassion in your heart to hear his story.

Once upon a time in a little town called Burgundy in France there was a young boy with white blonde hair named Chardonnay. During the winter he spent his days hanging out skiing in the cool climate with his family. During the spring and summer time the landscape around turned into a lush green.

He spent much of his time hanging around the grape vines which situated themselves amongst the peach and apricot trees. The likeness to his trim and elegant mother was remarkable. He was a very polite boy with a crisp wit that always left his parents guests wanting more.

His father was a delightful chap of undeniable pedigree. He always told young chardonnay that there were two types of men that came from Burgundy, 'the zesty and crisp free spirit' and 'the rich and heavy set, strong as oak type'. Little chardonnay didn't really care for the story though for he dreamed of making it as a celebrity in Hollywood. It wasn't until years later that he would understand the value of tradition.

In the early 80's Chardonnay was a young man and set of to America to achieve his dreams. His long flowing locks had darkened to a glimmering straw blonde were the envy of the Californian bottle blondes. His smooth French accent made women and men alike swoon. Throughout the 80’s his celebrity rose quickly and he was a regular star at all the coolest parties, newest restaurants and hippest bars. Everything he had wanted was achieved in such a short time, it was a dream come true.

The invitations kept flooding in and poor little Chardonnay couldn't keep up with the demand. In an attempt to keep his adoring public happy he made a fatal mistake. Chardie knew that he couldn't keep up the appearances, but that most of the time his fans didn't really know him anyway. He thought that maybe if he could simply replicate himself he would be able to maintain and continually build his fame. He decided to recruit a bunch of slick young men. They grew their hair and dressed in the same clothes and before long they looked just like him. Every invitation he received, he would send one of his well-dressed clones.

Initially people didn't notice. They would say hello at the parties and greet the celebrity, wave and show their appreciation. However there began to be some instances where poorly brought up imposters were rude to guests, scream acidic threats or were just plain unpleasant. Chardonnay's reputation fell away in tatters and he got fat and lazy. There was a huge backlash and the once rising star was diminished in the same lightning flash as Tom Cruise when he famously jumped on Oprah's couch.

No one in Hollywood wanted him any longer. His fat, lazy and rude impostors had destroyed his career. Desolate and desperate he returned to France to the bedside of his father in old age. The dying old man whispered to his only boy 'Remember who you are son, don't let anyone take your tradition away from you' and with that he took his last breath.

For the first time Chardonnay realised what he had done. He had shot to fame so quickly and was not able to cater to the demand of his rising celebrity. In an attempt to please everybody he tried to be all things to all people and somewhere along the way lost himself. He made a commitment to himself that day that he would restore the great name of his father and Chardonnay. 'Finally' he thought to himself, 'this is my chance, this new generation... they will know the greatness of Chardonnay!'

He asked me personally to tell this story for him in the hope that you might take pity. Take in a story of fame and fortune to utter failure. Please learn from his mistakes and be willing to forgive. Have faith, he is going to prove himself to us, just you wait and see. 

My final request before finishing this blog is a simple one. Next time you look at a wine list give old Chardonnay a glance. One little nod of appreciation could start a revolution.

Along the grapevine – I heard a rumor that Lisa McGuigan is bringing out a new label. There might even be a sexy reinvigorated Chardie on the cards…

Ode to the Plentiful Bottle-o

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.