Don’t bring terrible wine round to my place

It’s the season when friends drop by, invariably with a bottle of hand. If the wine’s awful, here’s what to do.

Put to good use: you can always cook with it

I’m not sure what would happen if a little notice was posted above my front door: “Only wines with a decent Halliday score (or a thumbs-up from the lads at Wine Front) allowed past this point, thanks.”

It could, of course, be open to misinterpretation. But you know what I’m saying, right? Don’t bring terrible wine round to my place. I’d rather you brought a bottle of sparkling mineral water than some of the rubbish wine that’s still made in this country.

Whoa, I hear you say. How can Australia still be making its fair share of poor wine? I don’t really know, but I figure there must be a lot of wealthy people out there needing tax deductible rural businesses, because I have a fridge full of stuff from wine producers who evidently don’t make it out of passion.

Heaven knows it’s hard enough to make money out of wine even when your product is good; there’s a lot of serendipity and fickle fashion associated with demand. So how the Dickens you make money from bad wine is beyond me. And yet there are dozens of wine brands out there, right across the continent, cranking out mediocre – no, bad – wine. The evidence is lined up in my wine fridge, the bottles opened, one glass poured, tasted and chucked. And my standards aren’t that high.

People arrive with a bottle of chilled Chateau Obscura and you try not to roll the eyes. But what to do? Open it on the spot and try to disguise your reaction? I suggest having a bottle of something decent on the go when the doorbell rings so that you can segue straight into: “Glass of white?”

It’s the season. January is the month when people float by, and they’re rarely empty-handed. I try to save the tasting for a discreet private sip, unless I know the wine and/or the producer. Yet for some reason I can’t bring myself to simply pour it down the drain when it falls short of drinkability.

Similarly, I’m occasionally sent wine, usually via a publicist. This can be a source of great joy – all fun, no responsibility – but more often than not there’s a reason for the largesse; it’s easy to be generous with wine you can’t sell. An unsolicited box arrived last year representing the wine of a certain region; not only had I never heard of any of the 16 wines but they were, to a bottle, undrinkable.

And so by this time of year I’ve always got a lot of 85 per cent full bottles of wine (usually white, given the season) ready for some kind of cooking experiment.

If you find yourself in the same position, here’s what to do: get yourself a shoulder of lamb on the bone, season it well and let it sit for a few hours at room temperature. Place in a large cast iron casserole dish with some olive oil and, lid off, brown it well in a preheated 180C oven. Remove the meat, discard fats, and start again on the hob with more olive oil and the usual suspects (onion, shallots, carrot, celery and a little salt), frying until soft and fragrant. Then add a whole garlic head cut in half and plenty of thyme, followed soon after by several glasses of the aforementioned white wine, a cup of orange juice, a tablespoon of honey and another of apple cider vinegar, and two big strips of orange skin.

Put the meat back on top (fat up) and slowly bring liquid to a boil, then cover and return to the oven, turned down to 175C, for at least two hours; you’re looking for fork-tender. When you reach the desired “done-ness”, remove the dish and rest, lid off, for 10 minutes or so. The result is sticky, fruity-yet-acidic, and utterly superb.

Any iteration of the spud will work with this, or you could go with couscous, or even polenta, if there’s a gluten-intolerant person invited to tea. Just make sure your guest brings decent wine; I’m thinking a serious pinot noir, gamay – or for the traditionalist, cabernet sauvignon. Anything less and they should be made to drink the wine you cooked with… after all, you probably still have several bottles to get rid of. I know I do.