On Christmas day, of all the days in the year, there is absolutely no excuse whatever not to drink well. You are either revelling in the company of those you are with and should therefore be keen to flush out the very best in your cellar, or else you will surely need a fine beverage or three to maintain signs of life amid a cacophony of screaming children or a fusillade of extended family. Help is at hand. Coming as I do from a family rooted in the gastronomic traditions – such as they are – of parts northern, it remains difficult even to this day to contemplate other than the statutory lunch-time triathlon of hot soup, roasted turkey and pork, ham off the bone, trifle, Christmas pudding, custard, brandy butter and mince pies. Little wonder why my Christmas memories seem to peter out around four pm each year. This year, however, a new leaf is to be turned. Christmas lunch will be selected and scheduled to meet the specific demands of the Australian climate, cuisine and character. My gustatory attention will be diverted towards the many and various native comestibles, several of which have until recently at least escaped the fate for which they were surely created. It will be a fair dinkum Australian Christmas at which I will truly celebrate the richness of Australian food and the fact that we can proudly claim the world’s most edible coat of arms. Here, matched with some bibulous suggestions, is roughly what I have in mind. Aside from dessert, virtually all the cooking involved will take place in a matter of moments over the char grill on the barbecue. The feast commences with a delectable antipasto consisting of smoked emu prosciutto, artichokes, marinated South Australian olives, sugar-cured Tasmanian salmon, sundried tomatoes and the piece de resistance: emu terrine. It goes without saying that the beverage – be it still, sparkling or fortified – should be as dry as the Simpson desert. I would certainly have a freshly chilled and opened bottle of fino sherry lingering nearby – either a Seppelt DP 117 or a Spanish classic from Lustau or Valdespino. Additionally I would crack the lid off a superb new sparkling wine from Jim Irvine – a nervy and bone-dry spinetingler from the incredibly rare Meslier grape. Labelled as Meslier Brut, it has some of the aroma of riesling and the freshness and tart finish of a freshly squeezed lime. Other sparkling options include the Andrew Garrett Randall Brut 1991 or the Cloverhill from northern Tasmania. For those who prefer a flat dry white I would have something as lean and tight as a Grosset Polish Hill Riesling, a Cape Clairault Semillon Sauvignon Blanc, a Leeuwin Estate Sauvignon Blanc or a Delatite Dead Man’s Hill Gewurztraminer. These same wines will work perfectly with the platter of fresh oysters natural, presented on ice with wedges of lime. It would also taken unseasonal restraint for me not to extract from the refrigerator a steely, chalky northern Italian soave or pinot grigio, just in case they didn’t. Next up is a gazpacho soup taken straight from the fridge. This presents something of a challenge, since tomato is always pretty hard to please with wine. But, infected as ever by the spirit of the day, I’m going to snap open a sparkling rose methode champenoise. The best is made by Domaine Chandon, but I’d also be perfectly happy with the Mountadam, the Chateau Remy or the Taltarni Brut Tache. Now for some serious char-grilled seafood, beginning with more shellfish. Onto the barbecue go scallops and mussels in their shells, left on the heat just long enough for their shells to crack open. Then it’s just a matter of some ground pepper and perhaps a dash of spice. More sauvignon blanc or semillon, I cry, especially if it’s lightly wooded like the Fume Blancs of Tim Knappstein, Cullens or Taltarni. Or even some of the brilliant WA semillons of Sandstone, Killerby or Evans & Tate. Francophiles could try a Pouilly-Fume or a fine dry Graves. Next it’s to be fresh king prawns and yabbies, simply char-grilled with lemon or lime. I’m now moving towards more flavour and texture, but I need the freshness and clean acids of a young cool-climate chardonnay. Enter stage right a welter of favourable options from the Mornington Peninsula: Stonier’s Reserve, Massoni, Moorooduc Estate, Main Ridge, Paringa Estate, Port Phillip Estate and Dromana Estate. Any will do admirably, but it’s best to open up a couple – just for the comparison, you see. Still in fishy mode I add to the barbecue enough whole fish to feed the crew, just given a small grinding of black pepper and a sprinkling of dill inside the cavity. On the hot plate for just long enough to sear, it’s then finished on the char grill and served again as simply as you like with wedges of lemon. I’m still with white wine, matching its richness and body with the strength of flavour and texture of the fish. Since I’ve moved to chardonnay, I’ll either stay with the delicate, finer styles or else move to rounder, fleshier versions like the Bannockburn, Pierro, Leeuwin Estate, Mountadam, Coldstream Hills Reserve or Tarrawarra. Then to the char-grill with a platter of tuna steak, given either a small grinding of black pepper or a sprinkling of native lemon myrtle. A fuller, richer fish, tuna was meant for the serious pinot noirs of Giaconda, Bass Philip, Lenswood Vineyards, Bannockburn or Diamond Valley. Don’t wimp out on it. Now I’m drinking red, there’s no turning back. Time for a full-frontal char-grilled assault on sausages of kangaroo and crocodile meat, lamb fillets and chicken breasts, washed down with spicy, earthy shiraz from the great years of the Hunter Valley, Heathcote or western Victoria. I’ll be choosing from Rothbury Estate Reserve, Tyrrells Bin No. reds, Brokenwood Graveyard Shiraz, Mount Langi Ghiran, Mount Ida and Jasper Hill. Finally, a choice between a seasonal fresh fruit salad of passionfruit and tropical fruits like mangoes and pineapples or a contemporary version of the Australian classic – rolled wattleseed pavlova. With the fruit salad I’ll be taking on the lusciousness and sweetness of a late-harvested riesling, perhaps from Jeffrey Grosset, Heggies Vineyard or Primo Estate. Either that or a late-harvest semillon from De Bortoli or Cranswick Estate. With the coffee/mocha flavours the wattleseeds give the pavlova there’s only one possible choice – a young north-east Victorian muscat, straight from the fridge. Finish I eventually must; locking horns with a platter of superb Australian cheeses from Gippsland, Tasmania, King Island and the Margaret River, macadamia nuts and the freshness and succulent quality of Angas Park dried fruit. This time the muscat will be very, very old and if anyone had put it in the fridge by mistake, their life will hardly be worth living…
