A performance of original songs and beat poetry/spoken word exploring wine’s rightful (and wrongful place) in Australia and the world. Entertaining, thought provoking, beautiful and a little tongue in cheek.
Performed by Amie Brûlée, singer, songwriter & storyteller (aka Dr. Amie Sexton, wine researcher & anthropologist).
Presented to SAG 22 November 2018
YOUR PLACE OR MINE?
VERSE 1
Your place or mine,
Who’ll choose the wine?
From the new world or the old world
Do you care, do you mind?
We all know the sort
Who responds with a snort
If you dare suggest the wines from here
Can compete with the cork
When you put them side by side
You find that each has its charms
Different and delightful in its way
Imagine if we made them all
To taste the same
How boring and how beige
Our world would be
Your place or mine
I’ll choose the wine
From the old world or the new world
Just the best I can find
VERSE 2
Unscrew the cap
Pull out the cork
Pour it in a glass
And then it’s ready to talk
Of the things that it knows
As it tickles your nose
Tantalising tastebuds
On the way to your toes
When in Rome it’s best to do as Romans do
But you can have your cake
And you can eat it too.
Different wines, from climes
Different tastes from different places
That’s the joy of exploration
And 21st century globalisation
Your place or mine
I’ll choose the wine
From the new world or the old world
Just the best I can find
THE TERROR OF TERROIR
VERSE 1
If the terror of terroir
Sends a chill right down your spine
And the shaking in your boots
Makes you spill delicious wine
There is only one solution
As your doctor I prescribe
As those have done before me
For their patients far and wide
CHORUS
A daily dose in liquid form
So simple to acquire
From anywhere around the world
According to desire
White or red, flat or fizzed
This you shall imbibe
Salvation in the humble glass
Of grape juice vinified
VERSE 2
So if you take the sacred triangle
Of human, earth and sky
Stir them all together
In the vineyard, grapes and finished wine
The specificities of place
Just like a passport show
The who and what and where and when
And how it came to grow
CHORUS
VERSE 3
Can you taste the flint of Mosel
In the Riesling, meine dame?
Or the chalk beneath the limestone
In that verre de bon Champagne?
There’s a hint of eucalyptus
In my Aussie Cabernet
And the sunny days of Napa
Shine in yankee Chardonnay
VERSE 4
I swear, señor, my Malbec
Danced a tango on my tongue
And the Tempranillo chaser
Joined in with a fancy strum
But here we reach the limits
Of the meaning of the word
And cross the threshold into
Territory quite absurd
CHORUS
DAMMIT, I WANT TO DRINK RED WITH MY FISH!
Let me tell you a story
Of a man named Rory
A waiter well versed in fine wine
Or perhaps it was Tom,
Profession: Somm
For the full word tends to sound smelly
I came across him one night
Dining, of course, by candlelight
In a temple of gastronomical worship
My palate was set
To be dazzled, and met
With a bounty of heavenly flavours
I perused the menu
In that magnificent venue
And my eye was caught by the list
Of slippery fare
from the sea, de la mer
And thus I selected a fish
Apologies ma’am
From the head chef, Sam,
Said the waiter, taking my order
We’ve snapper and trout,
Perch flapping about
But I’m afraid we’re out … of plaice
But take my advice
The sole is as nice
Swimming in saucy delight
Now I’m a sucker for sauce
So replied, yes, of course
And with it I must have a wine
Somm’s expert opinion
From his vino dominion
Was a delicately oaked
With malolactic fermentation
Grapes picked at midnight
For the perfect flavour sensation
Chardonnay
Hmmmmmm ……….
I said, red takes my fancy
He said, not a chancy
There are rules in fine dining, you pleb
You cannot, you won’t
You mustn’t, you don’t
Ever drink red with a fish.
Now I tend to get narky
When faced with hierarchy
That threatens to ruin my dinner
If I want red with my seafood
And white with my steak
Just like an apple offered by a snake
It’s entirely my decision
To challenge traditions
Especially when maxing my card
The somm and his leering,
Twas change he was fearing
His intellect blurring his vision
I said, listen here mate
It’s getting late
And your bullshit’s delaying my pleasure
I’ll have a Grenache
That’s not such a splash
And you may return to your cellar
I’ll sit here and savour
My match of flavour
Enraptured by earthly delights
And I’ll continue to ponder
The path I shall wander
Seeking sensual fancies and flights
