Jefford on Monday

The last time I blind-tasted 35 top Australian Chardonnays, the wine which seemed to me to proclaim regional origins more clearly than any was the 2010 vintage of Penfold’s Bin 311, which came in that vintage from Tumbarumba.

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The scene: a special dinner. The company: wine lovers, gourmets. You’re seated next to other guests you know only fleetingly, if at all. The coming two or three hours will give you the chance to try half-a-dozen or more grand wines, none of which you have ever tasted before, and none of which you are ever likely to taste again. They bottles promise to be far better (in the form book, anyway) than three accumulated months of your ordinary drinking. Great!

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Oak, particularly new French oak, is the most expensive container you can choose in which to age your new wines. We've all damned wines for being over-oaked. "This wine needs more oak," by contrast, is a comment I’ve never heard from anyone. The imbalance is striking. Is all that money being wasted?

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Heavy industry, light industry, an industrial estate, industrial units, industrial output, the Department of Trade and Industry: have I got your attention? Are you feeling, um, excited? Are you panting to know more?

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