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Explore Wine With Fran

July 22, 2025 by Fran 2 Comments

Do you know your Chablis from your Chardonnay?

Do you know your Chardonnay from your Chablis? Your Sauvignon Blanc from your Sancerre? (these are trick questions, which we will get to later.”) Well, follow on with me as I go on a journey of discovery, deep into the world of wine.

My aim is to simplify things and make wine a little more accessible for you. It can be daunting, sitting in a restaurant and you are passed a wine list that looks thicker than a Harry Potter book. And the sommelier stands over you like she owns the world. Where do you start?

Start here, exploring wine with Fran.

Drinking Burgundy in Dijon

The home of wine

Whether you agree that Georgia (the country, not the US state) is the spiritual home of wine, and whether you called your Shiraz, Syrah, I am here for you.

Starting out as a passionate lover of wine, my interest has deepened over the years and now I am embarking on Level 2 of the WSET (Wine & Spirit Education Trust). A globally recognised qualification in the wine world.

This journey may have been started with my sister as an early catalyst, presenting me with birthday gifts of a wine decanter and the voluminous “World Atlas of Wine” by Jancis Robinson and Hugh Johnson. This led to a membership with the Sunday Times wine club, my entry point into a selection of wine not available in my local Tesco superstore. At least not then. Things may well have changed in the intervening 20 years.

Wine tasting across the world

In those two decades I have been fortunate enough to visit cellar doors and taste some of the world’s best wine from across the globe. Day tripping in the Casablanca Valley in Chile. Cycling around the Malbec laden vineyards of Mendoza, Argentina. Sipping Pinot Noir in Sonoma, a neighbour to the world famous Napa Valley. In recent years I had the great opportunity to travel across the centre of the wine world. 

Wine tasting in Casablanca, Chile
Casablanca, Chile

Just whisper it so we don’t upset our Italian friends. France. Travelling through regions such as Champagne, Burgundy, and Bordeaux had us tasting some of the wines that sing across your palate. 

Sipping champagne in Epernay
Sipping champagne in Champagne

Margaret River wine region

Closer to home, Australia has been where I have done most wine tasting. Having the Margaret River wine region on our doorstep is something that wine buffs can only dream of. A relatively recent member of the wine fraternity, the vines in this region only date back to the late 1960s. And in this short space of time Margaret River wine makers are making their mark on the wine world. Until you have tried a Chardonnay from Vasse Felix, have you even ever had Chardonnay? And the Cabernet Sauvignon? Full bodied, balanced tannins, and a long finish. Writing this has me heading to the butchers for a t-bone steak.

Wines from Vasse Felix
Vasse Felix’s finest drops

Live long, drink wine

However, this blog is about wine, not food. Not that you can ever separate the two. Food and wine have gone together since time immemorial. And, research from the Blue Zones, where people regularly live to over 100 years, suggests that part of that longevity is related to the diet which includes a daily glass of wine.

That is something I can drink to.

Short explainer

* Chablis is Chardonnay. Sancerre is Sauvignon Blanc.

Wine production is often defined as New World and Old World. France is a country that sits in the Old World and the wine labelling is based on location, not the grape variety. Hence their Chardonnay that is grown in the village of Chablis is named as such. Same as the sauvignon blanc wines that are produced in the village of Sancerre.

To avoid a lot of the confusion, and partly a marketing ploy, New World producers, which include Australia, label wines with the name of the grape on front.

Filed Under: Blog

Time to try Chardonnay, again

July 28, 2025 by Fran 1 Comment

How well do you know your Chardonnay?

When we last spoke, I was sharing that I have embarked on my WSET (Wine & Spirits Education Trust) Level 2 qualification. And that I am sharing my journey here, with you. Since civilisation began, wine has played an important role. Wine is history. Wine is story. Here is a little bit of my story.

The chapter we are writing today concerns the grape, Chardonnay. Yes, whilst it is named after a small village in France, Chardonnay is also the name of the grape. And, for those of you paying attention in the previous blog, you will remember that when produced in an “Old World” wine region, such as France, the name of the grape doesn’t go on the label.  Yes, I know, it can get very confusing.

The style of glass in important when drinking Chardonnay

Chardonnay in the 1990s

Which brings me to my introduction to Chardonnay. Kind of. Unlike here in Australia, the supermarkets in the UK sell wine as well as groceries. Here in Australia you have to find a bottle shop. The equivalent of an off licence in the UK. The convenience of being able to pick up a bottle of plonk with my peanuts was a wonder to behold when I started shopping and roaming the shelves of my local Tesco.

Being the late 80s and early 90s, supermarkets in the UK were flooded with wine from the land down under. And, to a little travelled (at the time I had seldom left the UK) Yorkshireman, the wines of Australia were very exotic. Labels with drawings of koalas, kangaroos, and boomerangs. Thankfully, over the years, wine producers have become a lot more inventive and a lot more discerning. These labels promised sunshine in a bottle. A slice of Bondi Beach right at home in Brighouse.

This was where my palate was introduced to Chardonnay. Wine that was almost yellow in the bottle. Overpowering flavours of oak. High acidity, not very well balanced by the fruit. Wine that even now, at a distance of over 30 years still makes me shiver. Maybe I had been put off from Chardonnay for life.

The Chardonnay Renaissance

Or maybe not. In the intervening years wine producers have realised that wine punters can have quite discerning palates. And after decades of wine drinkers declaring themselves as ABC, anything but chardonnay, they are being lured back to expressions of the grape that are sublime. Exquisite. Heavenly.

I am one such person. Being lucky enough to have one of the world’s best wine regions on our doorstep certainly helps. Margaret River produces only a small amount of Australia’s wine, and yet the quality is amongst the highest. If not the very best. And it was Margaret River that reignited my love for Chardonnay.

Margaret River Chardonnay

Gone are the yellow colours. Child like drawings of Australian cliches have left the labels. Long forgotten are the overpowering oak aromas, most probably obtained through the cheaper method of using oak chips, rather than the very expensive French oak barrels that are used today. Now, the wines are smooth. Elegant. Sophisticated. Think you don’t like Chardonnay? Then try one from wineries such as Vasse Felix, Cullen, and Xanadu. You may be converted.

Chardonnay at Vasse Felix

You are not convinced? The oak flavours have ruined Chardonnay for life, for you? OK, I hear you. Bear with me. When you say you don’t like Chardonnay, I suspect it is the buttery flavours, caused by malolactic fermentation, and the oak, as talked about earlier. The secondary and tertiary flavours that are a result of a wine making choice by the wine maker. For a specific style of wine she is wanting to produce.

Chardonnay from France

Which means that the wine maker can equally make a choice to produce a Chardonnay wine without these additional processes. For example, Chablis, from the French village of the same name, produces mostly unoaked Chardonnay. The expression in a Chablis is a lot fresher. Dry and mineral on the palate. Refreshing. Not as one dimensional as an Italian Pinot Grigio, and not as complex as Chardonnay from Mersault in Burgundy, which uses oak barrels and lees contact for that secondary aroma of bread.

What I hope is becoming clear is that Chardonnay is a very versatile grape. Wine regions across the world fall between the 30 and 50 degree latitude, both north and south of the equator. Within that we have cool, moderate, and warm climates. Chardonnay grows well in all of them. With wine that bridges the scale from light bodied all the way to full bodied, with varying levels of acidity, I am convinced that there is a Chardonnay to suit you. 

It is not a time to be monogamous

Whether you like your wines aged, producing notes of hazelnut and mushroom. Or whether you like your Chardonnay young and fresh, displaying hints of apples and pears, this is a wine I encourage you to try. And don’t be monogamous. Shop around. Whether you are in your local Tesco, or in your neighbourhood Dan Murphy’s, see what is on offer.

Good examples can be found from Napa Valley in California. France has Chablis and Mersault, some of the world’s best Chardonnay. And there is Margaret River. Which I would suggest you try first. Just don’t tell the French. And if all else fails, stick to something that the Chardonnay grape does very well. Drink Champagne.

Chardonnay, just one of the grapes that produces this magic

Salut, and until the next time. Live well, drink well.

Filed Under: Blog

How well do you know Cabernet Sauvignon?

August 17, 2025 by Fran Leave a Comment

In our last chat we discussed everything Chardonnay. And I am curious, have you been exploring with new expressions of this very versatile grape? I would love to hear what you experimented with and what you discovered about your palate.

Today, our palate shifts focus. From the green grape to the black grape. Yes, red wine is made from black grapes. What may surprise you is to learn that both grapes, the green and the black both contain clear pulp and juice inside. This begs the question of how do wines become different colours if the juice in the grapes is the same colour?

The magic is in the skins. And the skin on a Cabernet Sauvignon grape has a thick skin. Which is your first clue. It is the thick skin on the Cabernet Sauvignon grape that contains high levels of colour. But, how does that colour get into the wine? It is through skin contact.

The making of red wine follows a process. After the crushing of the grapes, there is a period of fermentation. With the skins in contact with the juice. The colour is absorbed by the grape juice and the result is a red liquid. The skins of the Cabernet Sauvignon grape also contain high levels of something called tannins.

Have you ever noticed that when you take a sip of red wine your mouth feels as though it is drying out? Your gums feel like they are attaching to the insides of your mouth. This is the effect of the tannins. Present in the grape stem and the thick skins of the Cabernet Sauvignon grape. Tannins in a young Cabernet Sauvignon are very high and if a wine is to be drunk young, it may well be blended with a grape like Merlot. The effect of this is to soften the tannins and make the wine eminently more drinkable, without the need to age it.

As Cabernet Sauvignon wine ages, often in oak barrels, the tannins soften and the wine takes on secondary and tertiary flavours of cedar, vanilla, and dried fruits, amongst others. Having flavours of “forest floor” may not sound appealing and this is a possible aroma of an aged Cabernet Sauvignon.

Now you know a little bit about the grape, how about a little of where it is grown. France is the homeland of Cabernet Sauvignon and the most famous region is in Bordeaux, widely regarded as one of the world’s finest wine regions. Needing a moderate to warm climate to allow it to ripen, the Left Bank of Bordeaux is well known for gravelly soils that allow for excellent drainage and heat retention which aids the ripening. Across the Gironde river, on the Right Bank, Merlot is the dominant grape, with Cabernet Sauvignon still playing a large role. 

From our previous discussion on wine labels, you will remember that “Old World” wine regions, of which France is one, rarely put the name of the grape on the wine label. This is where a little knowledge goes a long way. Now you know that if you are drinking a red Bordeaux, you are drinking Cabernet Sauvignon. Whether that is the dominant grape, or whether it is Merlot, depends on which side of the river the wine is from. Left Bank and you can be confident it is led by Cabernet Sauvignon. Right Bank, you are probably drinking a Merlot dominated wine.

Whichever side of the Gironde your wine is from, Bordeaux reds are a very distinctive wine, copied across many of the world’s wine regions. One excellent location to grow Cabernet Sauvignon is Margaret River, three hours south of Perth. With a unique maritime climate, similar to Bordeaux and with the Indian Ocean providing cooling sea breezes, Margaret River Cabernet Sauvignon has excellent balance, powerful tannins and wines that display aromas of blackcurrant and bay leaf notes.

For such a bold, full bodied, fruity wine, what would be a good food pairing? Before we explore that let’s just clear something up. The very best pairing is the one that you want. The one that you enjoy. Yes, some wines pair better with food than others. This is because of the flavour profiles in wine. Sweet wines pair better with sweet food. Crisp white acidic wines pair well with oily and fatty foods. This is why Champagne with fish and chips is a classic pairing.

And yes, there is a lot to be said by the maxim, “what grows together, goes together.” Anything Italian goes well with a Chianti Classico or an easy drinking Valpolicella. White wines do tend to pair better with fish and light dishes. You wouldn’t want your full bodied Cabernet Sauvignon with your delicately flavoured scallops.

What you would want with your Cabernet Sauvignon are grilled steaks. Hearty lamb dishes. Hard cheeses. The tannins that we mentioned earlier, that are high in a Cabernet Sauvignon bind to the proteins in red meat, providing a refreshing contrast.

All this talk is making me both thirsty, and hungry. I think I will head out for a glass of wine.

Cin cin.

Filed Under: Blog

Month 3, so soon?

October 10, 2012 by Fran Leave a Comment

Be careful what you wish for, I thought as I signed the contract for my new job.  The next 6 months planned out.  Not a feeling I enjoy very much if I am searingly honest.  Over the last few years, 6 months seems to be the threshold before wanting to venture out and do something new.  6 month work contracts.  6 month apartment leases.  I’d throw in 6 month relationships but I don’t seem to be able to even reach that point.
However, being realistic, to live, and enjoy, living in central Sydney, one must work and earn a fair amount of money.  Take the Faustian pact to pay for the trappings of a harbourside lifestyle.  And quite some lifestyle it is, let me tell you.  Arriving in August, the back end of Winter, I have been blessed with the kind of weather that I came here for.  Spring is developing nicely and I am already looking forward to Summer and lazy days at the beach.  I have just had a conversation with the girl in the bottle shop about whether I miss Yorkshire.  And in truth, I do.  A lot.  It’s just the weather I don’t miss, especially now as the cold really appears to be settling in.  It makes me shiver just thinking about it.
So, for this much warmer expat, month 3 starts with me securing gainful employment, my own apartment and with transport, Besbi the Bimbo.  Besbi being the brand of scooter that I bought recently.  Bimbo being the first word that came into my head starting with B.  I have always wanted to own a scooter.  But like lots of things I have always wanted to do, I never quite got around to it in the UK.  Most probably because of the constraints with the weather.  How often would I be able to take her out?  Would I want to scoot through the cold Yorkshire winters?  A categorical ‘no’.  But frequent travels in Asia, regular trips to Italy, and reading the Peter Moore books (www.petermoore.net/) about his adventures on numerous Vespas stoked the fire that burned inside.
And serendipity played a large part too.  My first months accommodation in Sydney was secured via the www.airbnb.co.ukwebsite and I was staying with a fellow UK expat, StephWana.  Steph had just taken the scooter learners course and bought a scooter.  Seeing her buzz off on that to visit friends sealed the deal for me.  Before you could say, where’s my helmet, I had booked the 2 day course online and was counting down the days.
Despite almost missing the start of the course, due to some flaming gallah directing me to the wrong bus stop, I navigated the course successfully.  The day after completion had me sitting the theory test and walking out the proud holder of a learners motorcycle licence.  Being able to ride a bike up to 600cc believe it or not.  I now have to carry “L” plates for a minimum of 3 months, “P” plates for 12 months, then I have full licence.  Until that point I am unable to have even 1 beer (zero tolerance) or carry passengers.  But beyond that point I am able to carry who I want and get blazing drunk in the saddle.  Mum, that’s a joke, don’t worry.
Other than scooting around the North Shore and exploring the Northern Beaches the other activity that has brought a big smile to my face is the resumption of my weekly 5 a-side outings.  I still wonder on a Tuesday night how Deemus and the boys have got on.  Whether they have maintained the winning streak against our nemesis, Sven, and the arch enemy.  Thursdays come and go and I still get the emails from Mr Ryan Price laying out the teams for the game at the Shay stadium.  Miles and miles away and yet I still yearn to play in those games.
So now, I have a run out on Saturday mornings with a very polyglot bunch of guys.  Brazilians, Australians, English and the odd waif and stray.  One thing I am still getting used to is playing in such heat.  For the first time in my life I look forward to my few minutes break playing in goal.  No, it’s not an age thing!  It’s the heat.  It is.  Honest.  And the thought that drives me on?  The cold beers that I know are nestling amongst the ice in the blue esky I can spy at the side of the pitch.  I just need to remember, no scooting about after, I need to keep my licence.
That’s about all for today folks.  It’s Wednesday and I need to make the most of my remaining week of freedom.  The beach awaits with the words of a great song in my ear, “…just don’t forget the sunscreen”.
Adios.

Filed Under: Australia

The Elephant in the room…

February 13, 2013 by Fran 8 Comments

The topic that all expats avoid.  The one taboo.  I’m about to break it and point to the rather large elephant sat in the corner.  This is a post I wasn’t going to write, then decided it would be cathartic to.  And so it has proven.  I’m feeling much perkier and have my spring back in my step.  I believe writing this and acknowledging it has helped.
Mum, if you are reading, you may want to look away now.  I know how upset you get reading about anything where I suggest I am anything but happy.  But I am happy, yet have fluctuating emotions.
Homesickness.  Why am I still having such bouts of homesickness after being here almost 7 months?  How can I be?  Surely I am living the dream.  In the promised land.  Sun, sea and endless throwing of shrimps onto never ending BBQs.  Great hats with corks to keep all the flies at bay.  Where men wear thongs with pride.  No snow.  No need to put my favourite North Face coat and boots on for a weekend walk.  Am I insane?  
And because I thought I was odd, having such thoughts curiosity drove me to the web site, www.pomsinoz.comto read of others experiences.
And what did I find?  It was like reading my mind.  My jumble of thoughts and emotions all laid out.  But written by other people.  Lots of other people, all feeling the same.  In fact, many feeling a lot worse than me.  I can’t recount how many posts I read where people were going home within the first 12 months.  Not that I am in a state of mind that I want to return home.  Just yet.  But reading about the experience of others just reaffirmed that I wasn’t in fact going mad. 
I am just going through what lots of expats before me have, and continue to go through.  Especially expats from the UK.  Reading a lot of posts from people who returned to the UK, saying how they finally felt at home.  How you realise what an amazing country we have, given the experience of living elsewhere for a period.
For a lot of people, home will always be home, no matter where you live in the world.  And home is a lot of different things to different people.  For some, it’s family life.  Others it’s the history and culture of the UK.  Some even claim to miss the weather (yes, I’m in that camp).  One of my happiest days last week was spent playing football in the pouring rain.  But for me, it is based on a lot of intangible feelings that lurk around in the pit of your stomach and start infiltrating your brain.  Things that wouldn’t make a lot of sense to people if you said them out loud.  Which I’ve tried.
Football.  There, my number 1 of “things I miss”.  And not just going to football, which I always knew would be like a large hole that I would never fill, but living in a culture where football is so ingrained.  Like a religion.  Countries in Europe, and through Central and South America are like this.  People live and breathe football.  With a passion.  Stadiums are their temples, places of worship.  Football here is little more than a 3rd rate sport, with genuine attempts to raise its profile such as the signing by Sydney FC of Allesandro del Piero.  But even del Piero can’t make a silk purse out of a pig’s ear.  
I did go and watch a game, and vowed never to return due to the laughable standard of football and the terribly plastic atmosphere.  We have yet to see whether the great man himself will renew his contract for a second year or whether the lure of home, and Italia, will draw him back.
Surely, you can watch the football from England people ask.  Not if I want to hold down a job.  As a result of the 11 hour time difference, most of the games are on at between 2am and 4am.  I’ve watched a couple of “early” kick offs, specifically the victories against Liverpool and City, but to function at work, I do need slightly longer sleep time.  I’m not getting any younger you know.
The homogeneity.  One that will surely raise the rankles of any Australian readers, but Australia all looks the same.  Within reason of course.  I could write a whole post about how different the Great Barrier Reef is to the Red Centre of Uluru.  Spill hundreds of words about the contrast between the Blue Mountains (when you can see them through the mist) and the glorious coastline around Sydney.
But, in general, transport me to a high street in Cairns, or a street in Perth, or drive through a suburb anywhere, and it all looks the same.  Which gets kinda dreary.  The beaches are glorious.  But aren’t 90% of all beaches, anywhere in the world?  Have you travelled around the beaches of Cornwall through a glorious English summer?  A beach is a beach, is a beach, is a beach.   
Not that I want to sound ungrateful, although I probably do, but when you have crappy beaches like we do in the UK (aforementioned Cornwall aside), going to a good beach, usually on holiday is a highlight that usually gives you months of subsequent smiles, just thinking about sitting there, listening to the waves, sipping your cocktails, listening to the strains of “bolinhas”, from the local Portuguese doughnut seller.
When you can go to the beach everyday, it loses a lot of its allure, its sparkle, it ability to invigorate.  How many of you would like to celebrate Christmas every week?  Aside from the fact that I would be about 383 years old.  Think it would feel as magical not having waited the whole year for it and endured the endless Christmas carols played in Next since September?
I started this post ruminating on homesickness.  I have slightly digressed but hopefully given you an insight into my feelings in the meantime.  I am not jumping on Expedia to book a flight.  I am not packing up the apartment.  I am not checking out the Lloyds Banking Group job site.  But I am sharing this with you so I can try to better understand how I feel.  And to let myself know that there is no right and wrong decisions per se, just decisions that are right for me at the time I make them.
I often read about the mythical “2 year rule”, in that you should give yourself 2 years before deciding what to do as an expat.  I don’t buy this.  
Firstly, who came up with such an arbitrary number?  What is this based on?  Maybe on the old immigration rules that you had to be here 2 years before applying for citizenship.  That’s now 4 years, so blows that out of the water.  
And secondly, for people who really do decide to go home, why should they sit out their time here being unhappy, counting down the days, ticking them off the calendar until all 730 have passed?  If their gut tells them it is time to go home, then home they should go.
Me, I still have 537 days to go.
Until the next time folks in the life of an expat.

Filed Under: Australia, Expat, homesick, Life

Brrr, goodbye Winter

August 31, 2013 by Fran Leave a Comment

Well, here I am well into the start of my second year as an expat in Australia.  There were times over the last year that I doubted whether I would ever get to write that.  Funny how life moves on, and I’m now wondering whether I will get to write the same about moving into year 3??
Being an expat is a rollercoaster of emotions.  Emotions that seem to be magnified, as you don’t have the ones who really love you around for you to share them with.  Especially at low times.  And there have been lows, let’s not kid ourselves.  It is through the low times that you wish you could just jump in the car and drive to mum’s for a cuppa, a hug, and for her to tell you it’s all going to work out.  Well, mum, it will J
So, what has happened this month?  The biggest event in my life, and I can’t overstate it, is the start of football season.  For any Australian readers, it is not the EPL.  It is THE Premier League.   If an acronym makes me want to grab Skippy and throttle him within an inch of his life, it is this.  What other Premier League can you possibly be referring to?
And on my new telly, with my new Foxtel cable connection I can get to see more games than I actually would at home.  Every, yes, every Premier League game is shown.  It’s a football feast at the weekend.  As I write this we are on the cusp of United v the scousers, so that is my Sunday night sorted.
Another big event was me taking a full day riders’ course and test on the scooter to get off my “L” plates.  As you may have seen, I was pleased to have successfully navigated the streets of Botany and am now on my “P” plates.  This is a strange system in Australia whereby you need to be on “provisional” plates for a year before you automatically convert to a full licence.  With this you would think people in Australia could drive.  Oh dear, how wrong you would be.  I could elaborate but I would only get angry again.
One thing I don’t need, is too much time on my hands.  As you know, this has a tendency to give me itchy feet.  It was during one such Sunday afternoon, bored, that I decided on impulse to book a weekend away to Byron Bay.  A few clicks of the mouse later and I was fully booked on a JetStar flight for a cheeky weekend in October.  I have been to Byron a couple of times over the years but will be good to go and get new memories.  That is what my life is about.
Oh well, if I can’t spend my money on myself, who can I spend it on?  And we will almost be in the throes of summer so will be nice to get out of the humid city.
Older readers may remember the phrase, “ambassador, you spoil us”, from the old Ferrero Rocher adverts.  I was reminded of this one day this week as I was invited along to a lunch for the Australian Ireland supporters’ fund.  You may think, me too, that this is a strange thing for an Englishman to go along to.  However, it was great event, officially for networking, but a good excuse for a really good feed and a couple of glasses of wine at lunch.  And the keynote speaker was the Irish Ambassador, hence the reference to chocolates at the top.
As I publish this, winter officially ends and we enter Spring.  A period of optimism at Cormack HQ as we now start the countdown to Summer, and Xmas.  Yes, it is just around the corner folks, sorry to mention it, but it’s time to start thinking about how to spend it.  Another birthday on the beach?  Quaffing champagne.  Or head to colder climes for a more traditional Xmas?  We are yet to see whether my newly bought esky will get to see the beach on the 25th.  Upon such decisions are lives made.

On that philosophical note, I will leave you and get back to the football.  Til the next time folks!

Filed Under: Uncategorized

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