Barossa valley, Australia

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Barossa Valley Wine region

The barbeque was well under way at Linda’s place. That being a man’s job, Kim was busy attending to the barbeque and all the men were with him, “helping’ him, though I fail to understand how the men were ‘helping’ him, when all they were doing was, tasting the meats, drinking the wines, smoking and talking. Maybe the talking was supposed to help.

We, the ladies, sat sipping the excellent wines brought from South Africa by Linda and enjoying our freedom from the kitchen.

Linda, our friend, is a curly-haired girl from South Africa and after her wedding to Kim, a German, has moved to Germany. However, before moving to Germany, she converted all her South African money in shares and debenture into Euros. She also bought 4 casks of South African wines, of which she is fond, and shipped them to Germany - to the puzzlement of Kim, because Germany also produces good wines.

So, now we tease Linda that she has moved to Germany “Locks, Stock and Barrels”.

This act, of shipping four casks of her favorite wine to Germany, was regarded as rank chauvinism by Kim and his German friends.

However, we sympathized with Linda, because I remembered how indignant I was when some nitwits told me that they preferred the so-called mangoes, like Langda, Dasheri and Badami to the Alphonso mangoes. That does not make ME a chauvinist, does it?

I am a broad-minded person. So long as I have my Alphonso mangoes, I am willing to let other people have their favorite food. Let the German have his ‘Spargel’ i.e. Asparagus; the American, his hamburger; the Italian, his pasta; the cannibal, his missionary. (No, no, ‘undo’ that last sentence, though, I had met a cannibal once upon a time and he had spelled out his preferences to me. “I prefer the Catholic to the Protestant”, he had said. “A Catholic is, sort of, soft and yielding, you know, but a Protestant WILL protest. Methinks, he doth protest too much”. Hastily I explained to him that I was a Hindu and as such, a most vociferously protester.)

However, as far as wine is concerned, we are nitwits. The only difference that I can ‘see’ between different wines is that some are red and some are white. Neither my taste buds nor my nose have developed much in the area of the science and the art of wine-tasting.

So, we went to the Barossa valley to educate ourselves about wine making and tasting.

Click on the link below if you want to know more about wines.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wine

I knew, of course that nowadays the wine making is mechanized and the wine presses run on electricity, but that did not lessen the attraction I felt about it. I suppose, having seen the romantic movie ‘A walk in the clouds’ and loved Keanu Reeves in it, (I also used to love Christopher Reeves, poor chap!!) I had developed a special interest in it. I had specially liked the idea of crushing the grapes under my feet in a big vat. (I hope the heroine of that movie had clipped her toenails and washed her feet before climbing in the vat) Of course, I do not have any experience of crushing grapes under my feet, but I can extrapolate. I LOVE bursting bubbles of a bubble-wrap, and crushing grapes must be something similar. However, I am told that it was hard work.

The Shiraz wine was real good. The Turks should be given the credit for developing this particular strain of grapes, along with Turkish Baths, Turkish towels, Turkish Delights and Turkish coffee.

So, I was telling you about the barbeque, right? Or, was I telling you about that what-is-the-name valley in Australia near Adelaide?

The embers of the barbeque had glowed and then become ashy. A lone glowworm hovered over the small pond in Linda’s garden in the beautiful German twilight. The delicacies piled on us by our genial and generous hosts, the heady conversation of the cosmopolitan company, and above all the potent South African wines, were spreading a feeling of comfort and camaraderie over us. Ogden Nash IS right. Brandy may be dandy, but liquor IS quicker. (Did I get it right?) The Muse of Poetry Clio (or was it Erato?) must be friends with Dionysus, because, here I was being inspired and starting to spout classic poetry. I raised my tulip glass by the stem and said, (Did Bunny say “Mom, be careful with the glass”? I do not remember now.)

“The World was fine,
Before they discovered the Wine;

Here, I paused for dramatic effect, looked appreciatively at the wine in my glass, took a sip of the heavenly brew and looked around. There was shock, disbelief and displeasure on peoples’ faces. Bunny was frantically signaling to me about something. Where did she learn to mime? I do not remember sending her to a miming school.

Then I completed my classic limerick of the world standard.

But, I ain’t no whiner,
I think, the world NOW is finer”

Happiness reigned in the party again. My quick-witted German son-in-law came out with a quick repartee,

“However, let us cheer,
that we have Beer”

I looked at him fondly, but Bunny was be’mused’. Was this her husband that said those two lines?

Everybody was getting in the ‘spirit’ of the thing. The Armenian managed with,

“Whatever you may think
Vodka is still my drink”

To which, somebody replied,

“The world would be glum
Without the Rum”

The Japanese made a heroic effort, He came out with,

“Me and Sake, Sake and Me”

There he stopped and fumbled for a rhyme, repeating ‘Sake and Me’ again plaintively. All of us tried to help him out.

“Are like lock and key?” He rejected the idea.
“Are like Bonnet and Bee?” He did not like this either.
“Are like crumpets and tea?” “NO WAY”, he was positively offended by this inadvertent simile of tea to his favorite Sake.
“Lead to Glee?” He considered, was not fully satisfied by this but accepted it.

My husband, by this time had managed to remember what his favorite drink is and joyfully announced,

“I scream, you scream, we all scream,
For Irish Iced Cream”

Bunny had been unanimously elected to drive the car and so had not had any of that fabulous wine. This facet of her parents’ personality was altogether new to her. She was aghast at this juvenile effort of my husband and said “You too, Dad?” (Somebody somewhere had said the same thing in history, right?, Yes, now I remember. Julius Ceaser (he ceased) had said the same thing to Brutus. But Brutus couldn’t be drinking South African wines, right? Was Julius Ceaser going to drive the car? )

“Mom, Dad, you have had a drink too many. You are not going to have any more” Bunny admonished us. “OK” we said sheepishly.

No, it was not a meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous, just a normal, easygoing barbeque, and we were not literati, but rather normal, mundane, ‘techie’ types, just a wee bit tipsy, Linda and Kim’s benevolent hospitality was causing this comical scene.



That is the effect of wines. We are not used to drinking, and so the wines, whether white or red, straightway go to our heads and cause Euphoria.

We had bought two bottles of Shiraz wine at the Brossa, no Barossa valley’s Tanun, no, Tanund, yes, Tanunda winery and just had it with our dinner, and then sat down to write the blog.

You mean I was telling you about the Barossa Valley? What is there to tell about it-hic- anyway? The winery had oaken wine presses and electrical casks. Yes, yes, very nice. Very nice indeed! No, I mean electrical presses and oaken casks. Yesh, yesh, very nishe. See the stone building in the photo? It looks rather svelte and lissome(lovely two words, these), doesn’t it? A joy forever!! The wine was lush green and the countryside was liquid fiery red like molten rubies in a goblet. - Gosh, I am sleepy - That last sentence somehow, doesn’t sound quite OK. I think I am mixing my adjectives. (Or, are they verbs?) The wine we drank seems to be causing this. I should sleep now and complete this blog tomorrow.

Good Night!!

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Photos

The grape vines
The grape vines

The Tanunda winery
The Tanunda winery