Living in Australia we’re more aware than most of the evolving nature of language and its pronunciation. Well do I remember the first church service I attended in Melbourne fresh from four years in England. The first hymn began with choir and congregation singing in unison ‘Wholly, wholly, wholly…’, leaving me wondering whether I was missing some important point or other, or else if the roof had started leaking. Books have been written about the innovative approach Australians take to the English language. But the truth must be faced that we’re at our most ordinary when it comes to using words borrowed from other tongues. Hence our national problem with wine, for much winespeak is taken directly from the country that gave us the bidet and the baguette, France. Much of the poor pronunciation of wine words stems from the conviction that for as long as we’re still living in an English-speaking country, we will damn well say everything in English as well. The old ‘Wogs start at Calais’ mentality takes a long time to die. Furthermore, as many of us know something of how most wine words are spelt, we tend either to excessively bolster their ‘Frenchness’ with over-enunciation, or else in true Ocker fashion stubbornly take the literal route. Wine bores and wine snobs tend to adopt the former approach, while true dinky-dies crash through the pain barrier in a way that would do Jack Dyer proud. Sometimes we see French even when it isn’t there. Mr John Button, the former Senator, delivered an after-dinner speech at a recent wine function presented by the well-known Australian winery, Cape Mentelle. Mr Button’s message took the view that Australians need look up to no-one in the quality and standing of our wine and that if we keep up the good work, the world would come to us. Trouble was, even though the origins of its name are probably French, and given that Veuve Clicquot own 80% of the business, nobody except Mr Button pronounces Cape Mentelle as ‘Cape Montelle’. Mr Button did this throughout his speech, thereby unwittingly presenting the inference that we Australians still need to present a European veneer after all. So, at grave risk of appearing an inveterate snob myself, and in the absence of a similar service provided by my wine writing contemporaries, I now put squarely on the record just how tired I am of people getting their wine words all wrong, especially by those who should know much better. I am especially critical of a growing number of wine presenters in the media whose incorrect use and presentation of wine words serves as an incorrect and misleading role model. Here then, as best as I can cobble into a pseudo-phonetic spelling, are several of the most badly stumbled-over wine words. It should help you get out of trouble next time a winemaker tells you he’s just taken this year’s grenn at chowter the neutron kaze soathe airspace for the pee knot noah. Spelt Acceptable Possible Simply Not On Alternative Amontillado amont-iyah-do amon-till-ado Aperitif uperry-tif apa-teef Auslese owse-lay-zer owse-layse ossle-ayse Baume boh-may bohme Beaujolais bow-shjol-ay bow-jol-ayse Bouquet boh-kay book-ay bow-kette, boo- kay Brut broot brute Burgundy ber-gundi ber-gunn-di Cabernet kabbernay car-burnay, kabbernet Caves carve cave caves Chablis shabbly shab-lee shab-lease Chardonnay shardonnay tchardonnay Champenoise shomp-en-wuz shamp-en-oize Franc frong fronk, frank Grenache grenn-arsh grenn-ash grenn-atch Gewurz- ge-voortz- ge-vertz- ge-wertz- traminer trameener trameener trah-miner Malbec mahl-bec morle-bec Marsanne mah-sarne mars-anne Merlot merloh mer-lotte Malo-lactic may-lo-lactic mah-lo-lactic Nevers ne-veugh ne-verze Pinot Noir peeno-nware pino-nware pee-knot noah Riesling reesling rye-zling Sauternes so-turn so-turns Sauvignon soh-vin-yong sah-vin-yon, sah-vinn-yon Semillon semi-yong semi-long se-millonne Shiraz shi-rarze shi-razz shi-rahr Spatlese schpairt-lezer schpate-laser spattle-ayse Traminer trameener tra-minner tra-miner Troncais tronsay tronkaze Ugni blanc ooni-blong uggni-blonk Verdelho verdello verderlo
