Dionysos you rascal, you've done it again!

Dionysos was up to his old tricks again, with his friends putting on an exceedingly good show in a suburb north of Athens on a February evening, a Tuesday. Being one of them, a philos no less, I had to be present, both to participate and to help with the show. Dionysos himself was absent, you understand, leaving his friends to get on with festivities and, obviously, busying himself with his godly duties.

A pleasant evening following a lovely, bright, almost summery day was a good prelude to this dinner which not only featured some achingly superb wines from Greece and beyond, but matched them with food of a high order indeed. Menoo restaurant is situated in a small shopping precinct next to a bookstore, doubles as a cafe during the day and, at the same time, has an ambitious kitchen; this should not come as a surprise, as its late founder was for many years one of Athenian society's foremost caterers, Mr. Platis.

But tonight was truly about the wine, which was as splendid as it was unusual, at least some of it. Three Greek wines, ranging from rather special to wonderful, and a rare French masterpiece were served for our delectation, and we lapped it up with great grunts of pleasure, at least I did. Unusually the food played second fiddle, serving as a teaser and able supporter, even a palate refresher.

The first wine was a full-bodied rose from the Negoska grape and the northern appellation of Goumenissa. Somewhat reminiscent of full-bodied Provence roses of the past, this had a certain chunky elegance and weight to match our starter, a small cup of 'bouillabaisse' that kept us wanting more.

The white wine was from the Argyros Estate on Santorini, one of that unique, volcanic island's biggest but still top rated producers. With a rich history of over 100 years, care and attention, their wines, from old vines with low yields, have a distinct, characterful, style, managing to balance the ingredients to perfection while bursting with flavours that show terroir and grape variety in perfect harmony. This Assyrtiko 2006 was a textbook example, metallic notes blending with white fruit and citrus, rich yet dry, intense yet restrained, long and seductive. It matched the seafood starter perfectly, but then it was so good it could match-up well with almost anything.

My observant reader - was it you? - will remember that a few months ago I wrote a piece on Economou and called him the wonderful winemaker of Crete. If anything I understated his place in the Greek wine firmament, for he is unique, ingenious, dedicated and wildly eccentric in a way that ensures his wines speak to the heart of any true wine lover. His 1999 Sitia red wine largely from the Liatiko grape served from magnums was just stunning - delicate red colour starting to brown, multi-layered ripe red fruit and spices on nose and even more so on the palate, complex, entrancing, long, long long. I strongly urge anyone who comes across Economou wines to taste them (guzzle them???), as they are unique and quite wonderful but, beware, they are not easy drinking but highly individual. The braised Black Angus brisket was an ideal accompaniment (of course, not the other way around with a wine like that!), though some pieces were excessively glutinous while others were perfect.

Sweet wine is not fashionable at the moment, and I pity the poor fools who spurn it because they can never appreciate a wine as fine as Philippe Foreau's stupendous Vouvray moelleux 2005 from Clos Naudin.  Top sweet wine is luscious but not cloying, intensely sweet but delicate, a balance of flavours that showcase terroir, grapes and winemaking, something this wine demonstrated in abundance. Rich exotic aromas and flavours (mango, papaya, pineapple and ripe melon) with perfect acidity and exquisite balance in this masterpiece of finesse that is a tribute to Foreau's complete understanding of his art in every way. The mango tart tatin with a passion fruit coulis and vanilla ice cream was a successful match, though quite honestly I couldn't care less - the wine was enough perfection for me.

Nearby I could feel Dionysos sighing with pleasure and Pan contentedly playing his pipes and no, it was not because I was totally inebriated. In fact, I was not inebriated enough to accept gracefully the disappointment of once again not winning the prize in our traditional annual New Year's Pitta!

The heroic winemakers of Switzerland

You'r probably confused already, dear reader, as you either never realised that there was such a thing as Swiss wine, or had tried it years ago and decided it was a bit of a joke - and not a particularly good one at that. The wines made were - and some still are - made from grape varieties not deliriously happy in the rather bracing Swiss climate, thus giving a thin, acidic, graceless liquid that no amount of skill can legitimately turn into nectar.

There have always been a few hidden gems, of course, and some perfectly drinkable stuff, especially in situ, but little to get excited about. Anyone who has visited Switzerland and has even a basic understanding of viticulture and what it takes to make a good wine would see that it would not be an easy task; rather, careful variety selection and a lot of hard work, coupled with a bit of luck, would be required to come up with the goods, i.e. a wine that could be served anywhere in the world and hold its own. And no, I'm not talking about winning prizes but winning hearts.

Recently I happened to be in Switzerland briefly and had the good fortune, though it did not feel like that at the time, to travel on Swiss trains back and forth between Saanen and Geneva with time to gaze out of the window, something that I am not able or inclined to do when driving a motor vehicle. Near the train tracks, even in steep and rather inaccessible parts of the route I discovered vineyards, incredibly well-tended, some tiny, well-organised vineyards.  These mainly face Lac Leman, the big lake between Lausanne and Geneva known to the english-speaking world as Lake Geneva.

You would not believe the effort needed to look after these plots of land, to protect the vines from both the weather and animals and then to harvest the grapes. This is a labour of love, of passion, nothing less, as commercially it makes little sense irrespective of the price of the finished article. These vineyards, or at least most of them, I'm reliably informed are now protected as World Heritage sites by UNESCO, for they are wonderful to behold. And the wine these days, you'll be pleased to hear, is no longer to be laughed at, with many extremely well made, deeply satisfying bottles around.

I have often ranted, dear reader, about the passion needed to produce decent wine not of the purely commercial, high volume variety. Wine needs this passion because it involves lots of hard work, risks with the weather and intense competition; these Swiss winemakers have it in spades. There is no chance you will make lots of money making wine in Switzerland - you probably have a better chance of winning the lottery - but you are doing something you love, ancient yet advanced, simple yet complex, pride-giving and quite adorable.

I salute these brave, passionate men and women, winemakers of Switzerland, true heroes, am pleased that their products have improved and continue to do so, and will back them in whatever tiny way I can. And you should too!