Corks are not made the way they should be. Shortcuts result in bad quality and cork taint. The industry should go back to the original recipe, given here in its simplified version:

- Plant a cork oak tree.

- Wait 30 years.

- Remove the bark and discard it. This is the first-growth bark.

- Wait 15 years.

- Remove the bark and put it aside to dry. This is the first harvest of second-growth bark.

- Wait 2 years.

- When the bark is dry, cut it into parallel strips about as wide as the length of the desired cork

- Ever since bottles were standardized, the diameter of corks is now 24mm. The usual lengths are 38mm, 45mm, 49mm, sometimes 54mm or more

- “tube” the corks out of the strip of bark by cutting them with a sharp cylindrical cutter.

- According to taste, wash the corks with some kind of antiseptic substance, of a more or less dangerous nature, and of unproven efficiency (it’s totally useless, it just allows the manufacturer to add a clever line to his data sheet, for marketing purposes!)

- At this point the cork is called “natural” (never mind the dangerous substances…). Its surface is pitted with a certain number of small holes (or large cavities!) which define the quality category of the cork.

- If you want to give the cork a smooth appearance, especially when there are a lot of holes, you can shake it violently in a mixture of glue and cork dust, until the holes are plugged up. This is the filled cork.

- Natural or filled, you can dip it in paraffin or silicone. Paraffin is interesting because it lasts a long time (at least 20 years, beyond that you have to replace the cork anyhow…). On the other hand, for DY wines (drink young), corks with paraffin will be hard to remove, and that’s all it takes for a winemaker to be boycotted by lazy sommeliers who prefer to sell bottles that are more easily uncorked. Silicone coated corks are easier to remove.

- Join the “charter of cork manufacturers” if you want to sell your corks. For the winemaker this is no indication of quality, but at least it ensures that all suppliers are using the same language, especially in terms of dimensions and quality. Certain manufacturers still use terms like “lines” instead of millimeters (don’t ask how many mm in a line, I’ve forgotten and I don’t want to remember!). The same can be said about classification, where exotic terms like “Extra”, “Extra plus”, “First choice”, or “Reclassified first choice” have disappeared, luckily, to be replaced by the Charter classification from 0 to 7. Zero is the top grade (regarding a grade 7 cork, submarines can pass through its caverns! You have to see it to believe it!).

- Develop a sales pitch to market your cork.

In essence, all along the sequence of events that I have described, quality and quantity are in constant opposition:

1- Second growth bark. Because the cork is “tubed” sideways, you can observe on the round side the bands that mark the age of the bark. You can see this better on corks that have not been used yet, but sometimes also on used ones, on the side that was not in contact with the wine, especially if it was not too deformed by the corking machine. In short, you can see that the 15-year rule is rarely respected. One would be very glad to find 12 tightly spaced bands, but often one finds only 6 or 7 wide ones! Narrow bands indicate slow natural growth, wide bands are a sign of accelerated growth, typically using irrigation (so much for ecological production: irrigating in Portugal?). Obviously it’s more profitable to harvest every 6 years instead of every 12 or 15. The problem is that wide bands affect the resilience of the cork, its capacity to regain its shape after being compressed (and how!) by the corking machine.

2- Drying. Did it really last 2 years? Were the barks warehoused in closed hangars or were they left outside, exposed to rain, heat, cold, pollution, bugs, etc.? This is quite common, try driving around Portugal, Catalunya, Sardinia or Andalusia and you will see them. Under such exposure there is a risk of the cork developing the horrible fungus known as “yellow stain”, which generates 2,4,6-Trichloroanisole (TCA), the main chemical responsible for cork taint. Chemical treatment can limit the damage, but the price of the cork rises as a result.

3- Filling. This practice allows one to gain a grade point. But the winemaker that buys these corks is irresponsible, because all the holes are plugged, the cork looks attractive, but what about real quality?

As in many things in life, in the world of corks one must not equate length with quality. It is better to use a 0-grade 45×24 natural paraffin coated cork than a 5-grade 54×24 filled silicone coated cork. On the other hand, prices are quite variable; one can go from a given price to 5 times that without any difference visible to the naked eye. For instance, a 45×24 grade 0 cork costs about 23 cents, and a 38×24 grade 3 cork costs about 6 cents. These are average prices, and they depend on all the manufacturing factors mentioned above.

I first wrote this article ten years ago; a more recent development in cork marketing is the well orchestrated campaign to “save the cork”, mainly by the large Portuguese manufacturers (half the world’s production), who resort to all kinds of sentimental drivel like “the lynx will lose its habitat if we stop using corks in our wine bottles”. The fact is that cork stoppers represent a very small percentage of world cork usage, about 15% by volume. But that 15% is worth twice as much as the 85% of cork production destined for industrial use. So even if we stopped using cork stoppers, the industry would not disappear at all, the lynx would continue to roam. It is another kind of beast that would be in danger of extinction: profits.

Jamie Goode, in his excellent blog, discusses recent agit-cork in the UK. He declined the petition. I would also decline: cork production is not as clean as it seems; we would be better off with a smaller better cork production for wines to be cellared, and for DY wines (the great majority) cheaper non-cork closures that would be safer and more ecological than intensively grown irrigated chemically treated filled corks.

I would feel a lot more sympathy for this industry if they started observing the above recipe, instead of taking shortcuts. A true quality drive would gain back the favor of those of us who are tired of dumping 10% of our bottles down the sink because the cork was contaminated, and who are thus inclined to the new Stelvin screwtop closures. The extra costs of top quality corks would be more than offset by the extra margins that could be generated. And the lynx, assuming there are any in those intensively grown Portuguese forests, would be guaranteed a safe European home.

De Bortoli Windy Peak Pinot Grigio 2009 – $14 – ** – Very pale with a green apple, sherbet-like nose. Clean, fresh, grapey flavours are enhanced by soft citric undertones and a mildly acidic finish.

Delatite Riesling 2009 – $23 – ***  – Upper Goulburn, Victoria. Light gold. A nose of lime blossom and lemon zest. A fuller flavoured riesling style showing citric fruit reminiscent of lemon meringue pie but without the sweetness. Finishes dry.

Angove Long Row Chardonnay 2009 – $10 – ** – New season apricots, fresh cream and a hint of oak on the nose. Softer style showing ripe stone fruits supported by well-seasoned barrel toastiness. Great value.

Shaw and Smith Adelaide Hills Pinot Noir 2008 – $45 – *** Translucent rosy hue. Nose shows raspberry, cherry and floral notes. Light-bodied and elegant in the mouth with nicely weighted, juicy summer pudding flavours that lead to a dryish, fruit-filled finish.

Hamiltons Bluff Sangiovese 2007 – $25 – **** – Canowindra, New South Wales. Blended with ‘a touch of merlot.’ Mid-red with dark cherry edges. Dry leaves and warm spiciness dominate the bouquet. Dry in the mouth, showing tight yet non-aggressive tannic astringency. Palate offers firm, savoury and secondary winey flavours and finishes with well-honed acidity. A class act.

Kopparossa Cabernet Merlot 2006 – $23-ish – *** – Coonawarra, South Australia. Mid-crimson. Plummy blueberry nose. Rich and mouth-filling – a hint of blackcurrant conserve over a background of sweet vanillin oak.

Fox Creek McLaren Vale Reserve Merlot 2008 – up to $41 – **** – Red to purple hues. Blackberry and chocolate gateau nose. A solid red, packed with ripe berries and typical McLaren Vale mocha enrichment. Initially seems soft and velvety in the mouth and then structural, lasting tannins creep up on you as you reach for another glass.

Ratings

***** - outstanding

****  - classy

*** - first-rate

** - good drinking

* - commercial

Prices in Australian Dollars.

Nothing wrong with the stuff, occasionally – but every day? Like watching endless re-runs of Frasier – monotonous.

The river of NZSB flowing into Australia has turned into a torrent. And especially at the cheap end there tends to be a certain sameness of style: underdone, lightweight, green grassy, acidic and thin.

At least Australian SBs exhibit a wide range of styles – from tropical to cool climate, but to this palate NZSB has become a cold-climate, one–dimensional trip. I mean, how many hits of hyper-methoxypyrazine can a wine drinker handle in a year? It’s almost enough to drive one back to Australian over-oaked chardonnay.

iS is fully licensed but allows patrons to bring their own wine ($4 corkage fee per bottle) and we took along a 2003 Petaluma Hanlin Hill Riesling. Despite its rather warm cellaring in our house it was in excellent condition – sprightly and lemony with just an occasional hint of that aged riesling character that we all know and love yet find hard to describe without annoying winemakers.

From the longish menu we chose Chili mushrooms – in a light sauce/marinade of butter, lemon juice, chili, garlic and finely chopped herebs; Parmesan crumbed artichokes – these were served with the stems (quite edible) attached and looked a little like chicken drumsticks – served with a truffle and lime mayonnaise; Manchego cheese croquettes – crumbed, about the size of pool balls – with a quince paste sauce, and Tempura vegetables on skewers -tiny morsels of crisp veg in the lightest of batter.

The food presentaion was attractive, the waiter was hip and we really enjoyed each dish. The bill for two, including corkage, totalled $42.

Highly recommended.

100% Chardonnay. Very pale yellow with an edge of green, fine bead. White flower petals, light biscuity yeast and a hint of green apple on the nose. Youthful, dry and elegant in the mouth with delicate Apple Danish flavours against a background of beautifully integrated lime acidity at the finish.

De Bortoli Rococo Yarra Valley Rosé NV – $22 – ***

A sparkling blend of chardonnay, pinot meunier and pinot noir. The colour is a pale, just off-white, candy pink. Lively fragrant nose of rose water and strawberries. Shows a dry, clean palate of new season summer berries with a tang of lemon zest at the finish. Ideal summer luncheon fizz.

Hennessy VS Cognac Collectors’ Edition No. 1 – around $60

Look no further than this for the ideal Christmas present. The stylish bottle is designed by two artists, David Burrows and Kesh, and the decorative facade will save the thrifty giver the expense of gift wrapping. Lovely nose of mature spirit, cashew nuts and oaky vanilla. The palate is velvety smooth, with raisin-fruity top notes, mature oak, and undertones of warm spiciness.

Macadamia Nut Liqueur- 500ml bottle – $46.50

From the Mount Tamborine distillery near Queensland’s Gold Coast comes this nutty liqueur. Light sherry in colour, it offers upfront aromatics of the Queensland nut, AKA the macadamia. The palate is unashamedly sweet and slightly spirity (20% alcohol) and is quintessentially macadamia in flavour. Those who enjoy Frangelico will find this one appealing. I like liqueurs a tad drier and I found that a mix of this with the same amount of dark rum over ice is quite delicious.

Strongbow Clear Slow-Filtered Cider –a six-pack of 355ml bottles up to $15

A full strength (5% alcohol) cider advertised as low carb*. Golden colour. Fresh green apple nose. Refreshing, crisp, dry appley palate. Delicious.

*I’ve yet to meet a serious drinker who worries about this sort of thing.

Aja Blush Moscato Rosé 2009 – $20 – **

Displays bright raspberry hues. Juicy nose reminded me of strawberry conserve. A light (8.5% alcohol) sweet style with a soft and pleasant spritzig mouth-feel. Flavours of summer pudding: strawberries, blackberries, raspberries, are plentiful.

Gallagher Brut Rosé 2008 – $25 – **

Canberra District. Sparkling blend of pinot noir 65% and chardonnay 35%. Pale rose pink. Nose of cherries and fresh baguette. Medium-weighted palate has more of the dark cherry influence, along with notes of juicy Red Delicious apples.

Moss Brothers Margaret River Semillon 2009 – $27ish – ***

Pale straw hues. Generous nose of lemons, grassiness and young pineapple. Fuller bodied style of this varietal with a long palate of lychees and lemons and herbaceousness. Medium citric acidity adds weight to the finish.

Barambah First Grid Unwooded Chardonnay 2009 – $19 – **

South Burnett, Queensland. Shades of light gold. Ripe apricots and a tropical fruits on the nose. Flavoursome style that oozes ripeness on the palate. The warm climate fruit is quite distinct but there is sufficient lemon-like acidity to give a pleasant balance to the sweet juiciness.

Angove McLaren Vale Shiraz 2008 – $18 – ***

Attractive lifted nose shows a tad of black pepper and an acrid yet appealing edge not unlike peppermint eucalyptus. That mintiness follows through on the palate and with the blackcurrant and blackberry fruit creates a degree of pleasing, moreish complexity. Firm, slightly chewy tannins complete the overall package.

Tyrrell’s Old Winery Shiraz 2008 – $14 – ** ˜˜

Heathcote, Victoria, and McLaren Vale, South Australia. A savoury warm nose of dark cherries and toasted wood. Nicely balanced sweet blackberry fruit and medium tannic astringency make this a good all-round dining companion.

Wine Ratings

***** - outstanding

****  - classy

*** – first-rate 

** – good stuff

* – commercial

In mediaeval days, they served meals on trenchers instead of plates. The trencher was a thick slice of stale bread and the meat and gravy were ladled on to it. When the meat was finished, nobles and peasants alike gobbled up the gravy-enriched trencher as a second course.

Not so long ago, you always knew when you were in a good restaurant: there was always fresh warm bread on the table. It was free, as much a part of the table as the cutlery and the salt and pepper.

When you sat down the waiter would place a basket of the just-baked on the table, along with funny, hard to spread little scrolls of butter in a chilled saucer. It didn’t matter whether the bread selection included dinner rolls or small crusty loaves or sourdough slices, it was always a sight for hungry eyes.

The tantalising aroma whetted the appetite and the crunchy crust enlivened the palate as you sipped a beer or a glass of white. As the meal progressed, bread and butter complemented the flavours of savoury courses and, if you were not too snobby, you used the hunks to sop up gravies, sauces and salad dressings from your nearly empty plate. No pasta dish was complete without a few hunks from a rustic loaf dripping with tomatoey sauce.

Really good chefs baked their own bread and, like the French, were as proud of their rolls and loaves as they were of their other dishes – nor did they skrimt* with the servings. Some restaurateurs bought in. Sometimes there would be a small charge. I didn’t care. I loved the bread. (Excluding of course, the ‘Would you like (expensive, soggy) garlic bread to start with?’ rip-off.)

Nowadays restaurants are, as often as not, run by bean-counters rather than chefs. These hideous types, who wouldn’t know the difference between sauerkraut and sourdough, are portion-control freaks and wine up-sellers of the worst sort. They talk the jargon of the bottom line, and its concomitant outcome: industrialised kitchens distributing pre-chilled, boil in the bag ‘cuisine’.

Bread has no place on their Excel spreadsheets or their tables. They see the staple as an unnecessary expense and a filler that will deter guests from ordering another course.

Dining is the poorer for it.

*Skrimt – a cross between stint and scrimp and skimp.

This is a powerful drop at 57.2 per cent alcohol, but the power is smooth and constrained in its rich mouthfeel. Flavours are reminiscent of molasses, vanilla, walnuts, chocolate, toffee and warm spices. It goes down very well on its own, with ice, or with a splash of water. Try also as a fine mixer. For a Dark ‘n Stormy, pour one measure of rum over ice and add about four times that amount of dry ginger ale, garnish with a wedge of lime.

Chandon Vintage Brut 2006 – up to $40 ****

Yarra Valley, Victoria. Pinot noir, chardonnay, pinot meunier blend. This bubbly spent two and half years on yeast lees and the lees contact is evident in the aromatic, bakery oven nose. The palate shows brioche like flavours along with new season white peaches and a hint of lime juice. It finishes with lip-smacking zest.

Thistle Hill Riesling 2009 – $30 ***

Mudgee, New South Wales. Organic wine. Intense lime and lime blossom nose. Quite a full-bodied palate for a riesling – in contrast to the steely styles of say, the Clare Valley. Flavours are in the apple pie with lemon zest spectrum rather than the expected Granny Smith with a squeeze of lime. A riesling that could convert lovers of unwooded chardonnay.

Scarborough Chardonnay 2008 – $19 **

Pokolbin, New South Wales. Melons, fresh apricots and dried pears on the nose. Medium-bodied, with ripe stone fruit and a suggestion of oak on the palate. Finishes with medium acidity.

Summit Estate The Pinnacle White 2009 – $19 ***

Granite Belt, Queensland. A blend of marsanne, roussanne and viognier. This white has a lovely aromatic nose with just a hint of new French oak. The palate is generous and displays fresh tropical fruitiness and citrus crispness at the finish.

Peter Lehmann Layers 2009 – $16 **

Adelaide, South Australia. Semillon, muscat, gewürztraminer, pinot gris, chardonnay blend. Juicy ripe fruitiness on the nose. A softer style of white, on the palate it shows pears, apricots and dried apples. Finishes slightly off dry.

Printhie Sauvignon Blanc 2009 – $17 **

Orange, New South Wales. Lifted, herbal, passionfruit nose. Generous palate shows more passionfruit along with lychee and an edge of pineapple. Firm dryish finish.

Shelmerdine Yarra Valley Rosé 2009 – $20 ***

Pinot noir. Very pale rose pink. Bouquet shows strawberry shortcake and a little Turkish Delight. Palate shows more of the strawberry character with a slight savoury edge, while the finish is medium dry with soft acidity.

Yellow Tail Pinot Noir 2009 – under $10 **

Yenda, New South Wales. Medium ruby hues with Cherry Ripe notes on the nose. Medium dry style shows plenty of dark cherry character supported by dryish tannins. Good value, particularly for this varietal.

 Annie’s Lane Sparkling Shiraz NV $25 ****

Clare Valley, South Australia. Cellar door and on premise only. Crown seal. Average age of components is five years. Mid crimson. Attractive nose of spicy blackberries and chocolate. Sweet rich blackberries and just enough vanillin oak on the palate combine into an overall luscious whole. Seek this one out – I could drink a bucket of it.

Best’s Bin No.1 Shiraz 2008 – $25 **** 

Great Western, Victoria. Fragrant raspberries and blackberries combine with faint pepper and floral and minty notes to create a nose of some complexity. The palate is elegant and dry with medium tannins supporting lengthy, essence of “summer pudding” flavours.

Ratings

***** – outstanding

**** - classy

*** - first-rate

** - good drinking

* - commercial

Prices in Australian dollars

Kuta has an obvious village atmosphere. Bare-chested old men in sarongs sit on platforms and groom their fighting cocks. In and around the thatched buildings, scabrous dogs, chickens and swayback pigs root around, wistful-eyed cows graze in nearby coconut groves.

Traditionally dressed women place little woven trays of flowers, rice, and incense, as offerings to the gods at shrines and strategic sites. Soldiers with guns walk around the market stalls. Hippies and Bali Boys ride motor bikes along the beach waterline.

Aromas of kerosene lamps, charcoal cooked satay, durian, tropical blooms, open drains, Bali kopi, burning rubbish and clove cigarettes pervade the atmosphere. Crashing surf and the strains of gamelan and Bob Marley provide background music.

Coconut cocktail and frog’s legs

I’m staying at the Kuta Beach Club Hotel. I jump in the pool and order a cocktail from the poolside bar. The bar boy, Ketut, (or was it Made?) climbs up the nearest coconut palm, grabs a coconut and back on the ground opens it with a machete.

He shakes the thin coconut milk with various spirits and ice, pours the brew back in the coconut shell, inserts a straw, adorns it with a frangipani blossom from a handy tree and floats the shell carefully in the pool in front of me. I sip and think, Mmm, Bali.

In the pool I meet an Australian singer, Mary Jane Boyd. Naturally, I ask her out to dinner. We go to a nearby restaurant, eat a huge plate of sautéed frogs’ legs and drink Bintang beer. The little bones that accumulate remind me of human tibias and fibulas and such.

Next day the spirit of the legless frog takes revenge – I have my first attack of Bali Belly. I have revisited Bali on about ten occasions but I haven’t eaten frogs’ legs since.

Kuta Beach Club Hotel, Bali, 2009

The hotel’s still here – looking a little careworn. But then again so am I. The coconuts are still there, the pool is bigger, now with a sunken bar. Bar tender Made (or was it Ketut?) seems to have moved on.

The hotel serves a fortifying buffet breakfast, and daily we stuff down eggs cooked to order and cups of smoky sweet Bali Kopi. Other breakfasters, gourmet travellers, connoisseurs of the exotic, produce their jars of Vegemite and Nescafe to enhance the experience.

No longer a village, Kuta is now a lively, traffic-clogged, strung out city. Most of the thatched roofs are gone, along with the livestock and the coconut groves. Due to recent outbreaks of rabies, the dog population is minimal. Tap water (despite squillions of tourist dollars down the drain) is still unfit to drink. Footpaths look like an earthquake has hit recently.

Hardly anyone smokes clove fags anymore. It is now forbidden to ride motorbikes on the beaches around Kuta. Unlike Fraser Island and Sunshine Coast beaches in Australia, where you can hoon around the national park beaches as it suits you.

The hippies and Bali Boys have mostly gone or grown old and tired. Security men wave metal detectors and under-car mirrors, soldiers walk around with guns. Modest offerings to the gods still sit outside hotel rooms, near little shrines and on every car dashboard.

I love it.

Tourists move on

August is part of the high season but tourists are sparse on the ground in Kuta proper. Maybe it’s the aftermath of the Bali bombings. Nevertheless, it is also evident that the tourist focus has moved away, towards the apparently uncontrolled, exponential development of Legian and Seminyak.

For us it means that getting a seat in local restaurants that used to be busy is never a problem.

The exchange rate is good in August: 8300 rupiahs to one Australian dollar. A simple one course meal for two, with beer, rarely costs more than $5 per head. Of course, you can find expensive European style restaurants here as well – but why would you go to Bali to dine as you would in Australia or London?

Wine gouge

Wine, as ever, is over-priced – something to do with crippling excise I believe. There is a pleasant local drop: Hatten Wines – their products made from grapes grown at Singaraja on the northern side of the island. However, we are happy to forego wine in the hot, humid non-wine friendly climate and drink beer – Bintang and San Miguel for preference.

If you want a day trip, transport agents and touts are everywhere. Going rate for eight hours car hire, with an English-speaking driver, in a small air-conditioned car – petrol included, is $50. Comprehensive insurance? Don’t ask.

We pay our fifty bucks to the driver and enjoy a leisurely day touring, checking out the spice stalls at the Denpasar morning market, antique stores in Batubalan, bustling Ubud, wood carvers in Mas and the silversmiths of Celuk.

Indigenous crafts

Ubud, it should be noted, is no longer the peaceful mountain haven it once was. But it was still nice to see the local woodcarving and painting artisans, pursuing their ancient crafts: creating didgeridoos and boomerangs.

Recommended eating and drinking

Triple Bob’s Bali Beach Bar. Take your togs down to the Kuta surf for a swim, and afterwards head up the sand to the treeline. Find a shady space and look for local surfer Bob. He will serve you an ice cold Bintang in a stubbie holder and provide a plastic chair and table (a plastic Bintang crate actually) for the grand sum of $1.80. Sip beer, watch sunset.

Warung Nikmat. Jalan Bakung Sari, Kuta. Halal/Muslim, down market eatery, serving mainly Javanese tucker. Two plates of Nasi Goreng with fried eggs, fried tempeh, and two beers cost $5 total. Look for the cute serviette dispenser – a cylindrical plastic container with a hole in the top through which you extract the required amount of pink toilet paper.

 TJ’s, Poppies Lane I, Kuta. Spacious, airy restaurant. Great enchiladas. Better Mexican tucker than I’ve eaten in Australia. Good service, inexpensive.

Aroma’s Restaurant, Jalan Legian, Kuta. Organic, vegetarian. Extensive menu of stylishly presented vego food. Delicious.

Made’s Warung Jalan Pantai, Kuta. Mades has been there for forty odd years and never seems to change. One of the best spots to beer and snack and watch the intermingling of tourists and locals.

Mumbul Restaurant, main road, Ubud. We usually go to the Cafe Lotus but the menu looked expensive and there was a minimum charge per diner, so we went to Mumbul, next door. Modern Indonesian/Balinese cuisine. The terrace sits overlooking a charming little gorge and a tiny shrine.

Costs

Agent: Flight Centre. Package of airfare, and seven nights hotel accommodation (including breakfast and transfers) $1165 per person. Visa $35, exit tax $18 per person. Local transport: nowadays blue taxis – air-conditioned, metered – are cheap ($0.60 flag fall) and ubiquitous. Prices above based on exchange rates at the time.

Ross Fitzgerald and Trevor Jordan. ABC Books, Paperback. $33.

Booze consumption, its benefits and abuse, have been an integral part of the history of Australia since the days of white colonisation. The authors present readers with a well-researched, academically referenced yet eminently readable account of the sometimes over indulgent foundations of this alcohol-girt land.

Wolf Blass – behind the bow-tie

Liz Johnston. Fairfax Books. Large format paperback – illustrated. $40

In 1961, Wolf Blass was head hunted and brought to Australia by wine scientist Ian Hickinbotham. This recruitment and their early partnership arguably changed the face of Australian winemaking.

Blass has had a remarkably successful career in Australia and author Liz Johnston traces his beginnings and subsequent adventures in her well-illustrated biography.

The Australian Wine Encyclopedia

James Halliday. Hardie Grant Books. Hardback. $60.

I don’t know how James Halliday does it. A prodigious output of well written, authoritative books, based on a wealth of personal knowledge and sound research. Here is another one. If you want to look up the hard facts on any facet of Australian wine – its families, technology, grape types, winemaking, regions, and lots more – this is the book for you.

Australian Wine Companion 2010

James Halliday. Hardie Grant Books. Paperback. $35.

Halliday’s annual guide gets bigger and better, with nearly 6000 tasting notes and details of nearly 1500 wineries. A necessary reference for any casual or serious wine buyer.

From the local library

Just finished a rambling, enjoyable book – Raw Spirit – by leftie sci-fi / mainstream author, Iain Banks. Published in 2003, it’s his account of a tour around Scotland’s single malt whisky distilleries and is a rollicking Grange gulping, Bush/Blair hating, petrol headed, digression laden, peat perfumed load of lovely old stuff. Worth a look. See also Scotch Malt Whisky Society.

In March 1965, a bunch of us Regular Army electronics technicians were posted to provide backup for CMF* war games in the bush near Tea Gardens, New South Wales.

 On the penultimate day of pretending-to-shoot-each-other manoeuvres, a CMF officer (i.e. a sweating red-faced jumped up bank teller from Sydney) ordered us to work as kitchen staff in the officers’ mess tent for their farewell dinner the next night. ‘Nah,’ we said, ‘we didn’t come here to wait on weekend warriors.’ Or words to that effect.

He went away muttering about undisciplined rabble and later came back. ‘What if we pay you?’ ‘Okay… Sir.’ (Cue limp salute here.)

One of the entrées on the dinner menu was fresh local oysters – a dozen for each diner. My friend Bevan ate a couple, said they were excellent and advised me to try one. I’d never eaten raw oysters before and was a bit iffy. But with a squeeze of lemon and a crust of bread, I took the plunge.

So did a few of the other kitchen hands, and we washed them down with vin very ordinaire and cans of beer we’d scrounged from the officers’ bar.

I ate a few more, and by the time we’d plated up, each officer had been rationed to only six oysters per plate.

Later, when the catering lieutenant paid us, he sounded miffed, ‘I thought we were getting a dozen oysters each.’

‘Quite a few were off…Sir. We disposed of them,’ explained one of the undisciplined rabble.

*CMF – Citizens Military Forces, now the Army Reserve.