FCA's Christopher Zinn and Paul Ham drink deep at the recent Australian Wine Tasting event reaching a "fruity climax" with "mouth watering tasting notes".

The Romans used to say in vino veritas. So if truth is really in wine it makes perfect sense for the FCA to align itself closely with the purveyors of some of Australia's finest fermented grape juices.

Yet it's a minor scandal the May 19th wine tasting event at Rushcutters Bay, hosted by those friendly folks at Vibe Hotels and Medina Apartments and our pals at the Sydney Bridge Climb, was not more heavily subscribed. Maybe there was a better news event on that night of, which that present all became gratefully oblivious.

In my experience, journalists not only like drinking, they revel in it. This not to suggest the gathering was an excuse for subsidised bacchanalia. Our intoxication was limited to delight at the wise words of Southcorp's fine wine rep, Ms Maggie Neumann, who gave mouth watering tasting notes as to the beverages on hand.

In spite of the vile tradition at such tastings of using a spittoon, I do not recall one drop being disgorged into anything else than the members' ample gullets. So to spite those too busy or sober to turn up, I shall bring back some happy memories with my own notes on the vintages generously provided by Ms Neumann.

The welcoming bubbles of the Seppelt Fleur de Lys 2000 were hard to move on from although by the seventh glass it was perhaps the only time in Australia I found a drink presented too warm as opposed to too cold. Any dryness was soon banished by the Penfold's Thomas Hyland Chardonnay 2003, which as you might expect was a white and slid down as easily as a fireman down a greasy pole.

The success of Penfold's Bin 28 Kalimna means it's not as affordable to the denizens of Grub Street as it once was. Hence the 2001 made a welcome appearance although by that time one's taste buds were overloaded and memory less than reliable.

We were sent off with a 'stickie' in the shape of the Penfold Reserve Bin 2000 Botrytis Riesling were the ripe fruit from the Coonawarra is blessed by the effects of a fungus.

The company in the shape of new members, some associates from the world of PR and our hosts was as poised and enjoyable as the wine. So Dear Board more such events please.

"I suppose I'd call it a husky wine, with a velvetine nose," said the bloke from Reuters - or was he from AFP?

I was allegedly at the FCA's wine tasting night in Sydney recently. Apparently several members saw me there. I have no other evidence for my presence, only their word.

They might have got me confused with someone else. In fact, I can't remember anything much - where the evening was held, who was there, or anything at all really. So my apologies in advance for the yawning gaps in this report.

What I do remember are the delicious wafts of conversation that rolled about my ears, like the sumptuous vowels of the French journalist who argued with my assessment of the Shiraz. I told her it was redolent of the faintest hint of mulberry.

"No, please, zees eez not mulberry. Zees eez loganberry," she insisted.

At this point, the bloke from the Jewish Chronicle - or maybe the woman from The Indian Times - chimed in, claiming the fruit was gooseberry, or some other fruity climax to the Shiraz.

Speaking of fruity climaxes, I was struck by the opinion of the nice lady from The Independent. She opined that the Chardonnay was "faintly reminiscent of freshly clipped lawns at Wimbledon, with a whiff of apple".

My own admittedly naïve palate hadn't discerned the allusion. But she insisted with such vehemence that I began to think Central Court grows grape vines in the off-season.

A German correspondent rescued me from this speculative flight. He was convinced the Riesling had the bouquet of his old favourite from the shores of the Mosel.

"Really?" I heard myself saying, though I can't vouch for this.

"Yes. Really," he said.

I do remember one tippler by name, actually: Christopher Zinn. I understand Christopher is a vigneron from Bondi - Bondi's only one. I haven't seen his little vineyard - just to the left of the Iceberg's - where he's apparently grown some interesting Rose.

Perhaps it was this drop that engaged a group of correspondents later in the evening: "No, it's definitely got an aftertaste of antler-marrow." To which someone else said, "I'd venture abalone shell." On reconsideration, said the first voice: "I think it's a faint mixture of moleskin and fluoride."

I panicked slightly at this. Perhaps I was hearing things, perhaps I had imagined these allusions? Then someone brought me down to earth - the French woman, I think, who compared the delicious Semillon to the scents of a summer's evening at the Queen Elizabeth Game Park in Uganda.

At this point, a travel writer - some of whom the FCA entertain on occasions - appeared by my side. Jacqui or Jody was her name, and she seemed rather taken by my deodorant. "Mmmm. Definitely mulberry," she muttered.

I don't know what I said next. I simply can't remember. But all told, it was a truly unforgettable night.