Strine Wine

I like Australia. I always wanted to move there, in my youth. I learned to speak Strine and watched everything by Bruce Beresford and Mel Gibson. Throw in a Paul Hogan, and you pretty much have my star-speckled view of Australia, mid-youth. Oh, I made up for my absence; Toohey’s and Foster’s Lager were always a priority if offered (even though they taste like pisswater now compared to my hearty Quebec offerings).

But it was Japan that got me in the end. Same quadrant, different beer. And surprisingly, I met more Australians in Japan than I ever met during my years in California. I even roomed with one — some cobber that was convinced that all Japan needed was Australian beef, and he was the man to import it.

Not sure how that turned out, but he was a generous well of vicarious living as far as Australia went.

But to this day, mention Australia, and my ears perk up. So when I got a roundabout email announcing an Australian wine tasting here in Montreal, well, who the HELL was I to say no, mate? (That’s pronounced “mite” and is probably appropriate when it comes to me).

The occasion: Wine Australia. Don’t even pretend to laugh, you ignorant flock of wallabies. Australia now has some of the finest wines and finest food in the world. I was living in California when California overtook France as the the makers of the finest wines in the world. I’ve always been aware of Australian wine and although I’m not an oenophile, I know what’s shite and what’s not.

These guys have been prowling around in the Antipodes, eating their Balmain Bugs and having arm-wrestling sessions over which Sheila gets to make their ‘Roo Stew for hundreds of years before you and I were a twinkle in our grandparents’ eye.

But make no mistake, “MITE” — they make the best wine this side of Cook Island, that bunch of descendants of Cockney prisoners, that loose rabble of some of the smartest people in the world.

Tonight was merely the proof.

Held at the rather renowned restaurant in Old Montreal, Verses, a venue to which I, as an ostensible food critic, have never been, it was rather a tiny assembly of perhaps 40-odd attendees. Many wines were on display. They started with whites and sparkling and progressed down the line; as I said before, I’m no oenophile but I know what I like, and I’m most definitely a “Sparkling Whitey” when it comes to wine. I like white wines, rosés and sparklers, although I won’t turn down reds in a pinch. Just that I prefer a Grigio over a Cabernet.

The orchestrator of all this vinous vivaciousness is one Geoff McFadzean (pronounced “JestdabestShirazyouevertasted,mite”) who hails from Wine Australia’s Canadian marketing division.


Geoff (at right) and fellow Strine invaders

Geoff is an affable non-descendant of British prisoners. Okay, well, that might be open to discussion, since he hails from Toronto, all Montrealers’ favorite place in the universe.

But what must be realised is that Geoff is a decoy. He’s a benign-seeming representative of the Australians. We know him. He’s from Toronto. I mean, what would we do if a delegation of Australians suddenly appeared in Montreal, all looking like Paul Hogan and Olivia Newton-John, announcing they were from the Australian Wine and Brandy Corporation? They’d promptly steal all our partners with their underhanded charm, wouldn’t they?

No, they had to sneak in under the radar, and so they have.

I do go on, but I’d just like you to get the word out — I’ve been kidnapped by the Australians. Who knew being kidnapped could be so nice? Their wines are better than our wines.

Get the word out — before they overrun us all. Please note that the first invasion occurred practically unnoticed at Restaurant Verses, Old Montreal, November 3, 2009.


The first white station -- my preference throughout the evening


There were at least six stations like this one -- and every bottle at every one was good.

. . . and the food wasn't bad, either.

I'll keep you up with what's happening with the Strine Wine. Apparently most of it is already available at the SAQ. Go to wineaustralia.com for details. And tell 'em your kookaburra friend sent ya.