“Change the music will you Bazz,” Irena ordered. We were at The Fiddleback.
“Remember last week what we said about change,” cautioned Bazz, with a smirk. He continued carefully pouring out a delicate little WA white classic.
“Change it!” was the order. “Or I’ll put on my music, baby!”
“Yes, my delicate sweetness,” Bazz replied, “when I finish pouring these drinks. Not even James Halliday can do two things at once, with just two hands.”
“What about climate change?” PCH asked, changing the subject. “Will we be sitting in a monsoonal shower drinking kava or perhaps scouring the Nambucca Desert for a few lizards for the barbie?”
There has certainly been some conflicting views regarding the subject. I endeavoured to describe some scenarios for the wine industry, but was interrupted by Bazz, as he delivered the glasses of wine.
“I dunno what they’re going on about, we’ve always had climate change.”
“Oh, yeh, Bazz, you’re a scientist?”
“Well, we’ve always had the four seasons, and it gets hotter as you go north, that’s climate change in my book.”
“How about we change the subject,” Denise asked handing around the cheese selection. There was no immediate response, only this gem from Bazz:
“I do have a degree.”
He was asked to explain.
“As you know there is a degree to everything. I’ll have the brie, WT. I have a B.U.L.L. degree, and I use it to the nth degree.” He kept a very serious face and concentrated on the cheese and crackers.
He was asked to explain.
“Bachelor of Understanding Lewd Language, from OUL. This WA Classic is a classic, WT, well done your vinnificience.”
“I agree,” PCH replied, “a fine blend of grapes in the Burgundy style. By the way Bazz, what is OUL?”
“The Open University of Life,” he answered, doing a classic swish and swill. “Now somebody explain the Burgundy style, as I have been doing all the explaining around here.”
“That’s a change,” Irena said, uncapping a Hunter Verdelho.
“The Burgundy style,” I began, “refers to the French winemaking region, Burgundy. White Burgundy was the name given by us to the white wine of the region, made with Chardonnay grapes.”
“We can’t use the term White Burgundy any more, can we,” PCH added.
“That’s correct,” I replied.
“You can’t trust anyone who eats frogs,” Bazz complained, tucking into more antipasto and Verdelho. “But what about the style part of my question?”
“Australian winemakers called any dry table wine aged in oak White Burgundy,” I answered. “Each region used a different blend of grapes.” The boys were getting restless, so I explained that they could read all about it in my Cellar Companion 2. Then they went silly.
“Did anyone make Red Burgundy?”
“No,” I answered. “It was called just Burgundy.”
“Was it red?”
“Yes, in Burgundy it’s made with Pinot Noir grapes,” I answered.
“So we had a red wine called Burgundy, which was really Pinot Noir, but we can’t call it that any more?”
“No and yes,” I replied.
“Make your bloody mind up!”
“Our Burgundies were basically Cabernet Sauvignon and we can’t have Burgundies any more,” I explained.
“Unless you travel to Burgundy in France,” PCH offered.
“Do they have Cabernet?” I was asked. “Can I go up to a frog-grog shop and ask for a cabernet?”
“Yes and no,” I answered.
“They grow it in Bordeaux, and blend it with Cabernet Franc and Merlot,” I explained. “You don’t buy French wine by the variety, but by the region , town, village, commune, family or chateaux.”
“Why’s that, sound’s Dutch to me!”
“Shut up Bazz!” the girls yelled. “With a bit of luck the WT might write something about French wines in his new book.”
“Stuff this,” Bazz said, opening a red cleanskin, “have some of this Red Burgundeaux cabernet- shiraz blend and stuff the French, hey PCH. Don’t be….”
“Serious!” PCH replied “let’s play Australia’s Greatest Plonker and play up!”
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