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The sea breeze arrives first, as it should with this grape, then grapefruit and jasmine. The palate is dry and lean, bright with citrus and a faint toasty edge, and the acidity is chalky enough to keep everything in line. The minerals do the talking and the fruit lets them.

Red cherry, strawberry, black cherry and mulberry lead, then bramble and pepper. Described by a reviewer far more erudite than I as delightful and instantly likeable, an unusual thing to say about a tannic southern Italian, but well earned nonetheless.

Greco keeps its natural acidity through a warm Heathcote summer, which lets the fruit ripen without going soft. The winemaking is plain and the result is not. It is such an interesting wine because it is like nothing else.

Pale pink, with a barely there blush that Provence has made into something of a competitive sport. In the glass it smells like someone opened a window facing the sea.

At $48 it is, genuinely, one of the most difficult wines in Australia to argue against. One esteemed wine mind called it the best sub-$50 bottle in the country. They were not being silly.

...and something vaguely Alsatian going on. Provence via Perth, basically.

Malbec is not here to be overthought. It wants fire, salt and something politely and properly charred. Ideally steak. Preferably outside. It is generous, unfussy and reliably a good time,

From Ningxia, along the eastern foothills of the Helan Mountains where vineyards cling to the edge of desert and altitude does as much work as ambition, this is a Chardonnay that feels both fluent and slightly out of step, in the best possible way.

The best regional wine lists in Australia aren’t trying to compete with the cities. They’re doing something else.Tighter. More local. More personal.

Utterly light, bright and crucially, only 8% ABV. Which means Aunt Joan can stay merry, engaged and upright well past the prawns.

Just like the famous Mexican cactus juice that has had many of us cactus on the floor of a dive bar, the agave is harvested whole, cooked, crushed and allowed to ferment before being triple distilled.

In the glass, it’s all translucent ruby and quiet confidence. Aromatics of blackcurrant, red cherry, pomegranate and subtle undergrowth drift up like a well timed sigh. There’s a bit of char here, and some spice too, nutmeg and a flirt of clove but it’s woven in with such finesse you almost miss it.

Their 2024 Speedo Gris takes Pinot Gris by the hand, walks it into a lo-fi fermentation room and tells it to strip down and get dirty. Skin contact? Yes. Funk? Absolutely. A label that looks like a pool party got printed on an old photocopier? Of course.

This one struts in with confidence, is medium-bodied but it’s got a spring in its step. There’s lift, there’s poise, but don’t be fooled because it’s not here to make friends. The tannins are silky but know how to throw a punch, the acidity is razor sharp and the whole thing fits together like a custom blazer flung over a vintage band tee.

If Billy Button’s Saperavi were a person, it would be the wealthy emo trust fund kid you knew at school. It is mysterious, brooding and frankly too dark for a 2 pm tasting without some food, but here we are.

It may or may not be a rumour that I once mulled red wine in a hotel kettle and I don't regret a thing. It is turning cold, especially in the Southern states of Australia and while we reach for the slippers and the Oodie to keep us warm after a hard day's slog down the mines, we also need to think about the drink.

If wines were people, Harriet would be that enigmatic aunt who arrives unannounced, bearing tales of Tuscan lovers and a suitcase full of exotic spices.

From the buttery horrors of the early 2000s to the don’t call me Chardonnay era of overcompensation which left them thin and insipid. Chardonnay had more identity crises than a Melbourne uni student on exchange in Berlin.

Rhône roots, Yarra swagger. If you want to taste what modern Aussie Syrah should be doing, not trying to win arm-wrestling matches with Barossa Shiraz, this is it. No jammy bombast, no oak overkill and no need to shout.

Madam Pommy stands out as an affordable option for those who like their bubbles French and expensive. Lets face it, this cost of living crisis bites and occasionally, we have to ditch the posh stuff for something a little more fiscally approachable.