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I think one has more fun

being a wine-lover in England

than in any other country.

And that's because London is where

nearly all the great wine auctions take place.

There's one almost every week of the year.

And for decades, I have haunted these auctions

and the tastings that go before them.

As a result, the old cellar below our house

contains, at this moment, over 5,000 bottles of wine.

Some of it is superb.

Most of it is pretty good.

We drink a bottle or two every night,

and it doesn't seem to do us much damage.

Here's a wine story I wrote

when I first became fascinated by the subject.

[Inhales]

Of course, the first thing one must do

is smell.

MAN: Smell?

Ha ha! I mean, of course,

smell in the active sense.

[Inhales]

To smell.

Only after one has smelt, so to speak,

does one taste.

All right, then,

let's put you to the test again.

And let me assure everyone at home

that Richard Pratt has no idea

what wines we've chosen for him.

All right, then.

Richard Pratt,

where does this wine come from?

Oh!

Ho ho! This is a very good-humored fellow!

Mm-hmm.

Mmm!

A benevolent, cheerful little chap.

Oh, dear!

Slightly obscene, perhaps.

A little bit naughty.

Pompous idiot!

...but nonetheless good-humored.

Hmm, let's see.

German, of course.

Uh...

Not far from Bad Kreuznach.

That would account for the naughtiness.

1959, I think.

Yes, Nahe Schlossbokelheim Kupfergrube Spatlese 1959.

How's that?

Absolutely right!

4 out of 4!

Yes--

WOMAN: Don't switch it off!

Just turn down the sound.

I want to know when he finishes

because he said he's coming straight on

after the program.

I don't know why we go to so much trouble

when we're going to be bored

by all that wine talk.

Your father likes him.

And I can't bear the way he stares at me.

Looks at me as though I were

one of his favorite clarets.

He's meant to be very good on clarets.

Who else did you say was coming?

The Blighs, Peter and Joanna.

They're Americans.

You'll like them.

He's a writer.

What's he write?

I've no idea,

but he must do very well.

He's got your father as a stock broker

and she always looks tanned.

Would you taste this please, Mrs. Schofield?

What is it, Mrs. Adams?

It's the horseradish that I'm making.

But I'm afraid it may be a little too strong.

You taste it, dear.

It is a little too strong.

And don't forget, Mrs. Adams, dear!

The beef's to go on the minute he arrives.

Mr. Pratt likes it very rare.

He'll get it rare, all right.

Louise, ask your father about the wines.

I want to know what glasses to put out.

Where is he?

In his study.

Green filing cabinet.

[No audio]

Dad?

Please, no draft!

Sorry.

Mummy wants to know what glasses to put out.

Hock, claret, champagne.

Right.

And go quietly.

Yes!

Yes, yes, yes!

Oh, dear.

What?

It's over.

MAN: Thank you, studio!

That is a wrap.

HOST: Thank you very much, Mr. Pratt.

An amazing display. Really first class!

Not at all. You must excuse me in my rush.

Surely. Don't go without these, though.

Oh, thank you, thank you.

I'm always doing that.

I can't read a thing without them.

Oh.

A very naughty fellow indeed!

Ready?

WOMAN: Peter, I must say,

he does sound absolutely fascinating.

Oh, yes, yes, absolutely fascinating.

He has the most amazing sense of taste

of any man I've ever met.

MAN: Do you always have a bet

each time he comes to dinner?

I'm afraid so.

It's getting rather expensive.

Oh, why? What are the stakes?

Well, let me explain.

We only bet on the claret.

Mike, isn't that what we call Cabernet?

Well done, Joanna.

Absolutely right.

Cabernet is the name of the vine.

Cabernet Sauvignon.

The vine of the great clarets of Bordeaux.

Honey,

you never fail to surprise me.

Go on, Mike.

As I was saying,

we only bet on the claret.

I serve a wine, then challenge him

to name the breed and the vintage.

And he gives me a case of the wine in question if he can't.

A case!

But he always can.

Yes, that's true.

I've never beaten him.

[Laughter]

But tonight, I really believe

I have a wine that will absolutely baffle him.

Well, I'll drink to that.

He doesn't sound like the kind of guy

who's easily baffled, eh?

He's not.

And it's not only wines he knows about.

He's a gourmet, too.

Oh, yeah, I read about that somewhere.

He's the president of a society called...

The Epicures, isn't he?

They get together once a month

and stuff themselves on sumptuous dishes

and rare wines.

Yes. I'm a member.

[Doorbell rings]

MIKE: And that will be him.

Louise, would you?

MIKE: I'm afraid I must ask you not to smoke.

Pratt's most fastidious about that sort of thing.

We don't want his taste buds damaged.

No, we certainly don't.

Good evening.

Ah!

Louise.

Aren't you coming in?

I'll lead the way.

One moment.

This couldn't be more opportune.

I did so want a word with you in private.

I have a little gift for you.

A gift?

How kind.

Do open it. I want to know if you like it.

[Sighs]

It's my latest.

And I've inscribed it to you.

Do look.

I made it "To Louise,

from her admirer."

Heartfelt words.

Thank you.

I think we better go in.

They'll be wondering what's happened to us.

[Group chatting]

Sybil, dear! Lovely as ever!

Hello, Mike.

MIKE: Let me introduce the Blighs.

Joanna and Peter.

Richard Pratt.

Forgive me for being late.

I've come straight

from the television studio.

SYBIL: We saw you. Very impressive.

Not at all!

They gave me some extremely well known

wines to taste.

These television people

are all idiots, you know.

I only do it because

they do so insist on my appearing.

To think I couldn't name a Cabernet.

[Laughter]

I trust, Mike, you will have

something a little more challenging

for me this evening.

Tonight, Richard,

I'm going to win!

JOANNA: Oh, good for you!

You bet, Mr. Pratt.

And you, sir, what do you do?

I write.

How interesting.

Under your own name?

Yes.

Mmm. I myself have just

published a new book.

As a matter of fact,

I presented a copy to Louise.

SYBIL: How charming of you, Richard.

What's it called?

"Great Post War Vintages."

I say! Riveting!

Riveting!

I hope you'll all buy it.

[Bell chimes]

Well, Mike...

Are you ready for me?

I am.

JOANNA: You mean we do the wine

before the din...

Ha! How do you wine-taste with soda?

Oh, perhaps I ought to explain.

You see, Richard never has an aperitif.

Good heavens, no!

But what I always do

is retire briefly before dinner is served

and gargle with soda water.

You don't really gargle with--

Soda water sponges out the palate,

scours out all the unwanted tastes.

And that way, I am ready

to face the challenge of my host.

Excuse me.

Isn't he extraordinary?

Ha.

Oh, yeah, he's uh...

extraordinary.

Great thing about Moselle,

it's the perfect wine to serve before a claret.

A lot of people serve a Rhine wine,

but that's because they don't know any better.

It's barbaric

to serve a Rhine wine before a claret.

But a Moselle, ah!

A Moselle is exactly right.

PETER: Mmm! Delicious!

MIKE: Charming little wine!

Don't you think so, Richard?

...like eating chicken with bananas.

To which the American,

who was from the state of Maryland, said,

"But I like chicken with bananas!"

[Laughs]

Oh, dear, have I kept you all waiting?

I am sorry.

Louise is such an interesting companion.

Mmm.

Oh, delicious!

I congratulate you, Sybil.

Absolutely perfect!

Fried in butter,

very crisp,

a dash of lemon.

Mmm!

Really excellent.

So...

Ah!

Moselle.

Mela Moselle 1971, I believe.

Exactly right.

So much better to serve a Moselle

rather than a Rhine before the claret.

Precisely what I said.

It is! That's just what he said!

Now...

this is a very courteous personage.

Slightly effeminate.

Rich...

Rather like your Daughters of the American Revolution--

not quite as well off as they used to be.

A beautifully mannered lady.

Now for the claret.

Thank you, Mrs. Adams, dear!

I must go and fetch the claret.

Go and fetch it? Where is it?

In my study with the cork out breathing.

But why is it in your study?

Being chambred, of course.

Pardon?

Acquiring room temperature.

Yes, but why in your study?

Well, since Richard and I

began these little contests,

we've had to see that conditions are

as near perfect as possible.

So, together, we explored the house

to find the best spot for the wine to breathe.

And we hit upon the top of the green filing cabinet

in my study.

Draft-free, even temperature.

Do excuse me.

JOANNA, LAUGHING: Top of the green filing cabinet.

There's nowhere else in the whole house--

PRATT: No! That is the perfect place.

Oh, you do take these contests seriously.

Indeed, I do.

And, tonight, I'm taking it

especially seriously.

Why?

I may want to raise the stakes.

To what?

[Chattering]

You'll never name this one, Richard.

You'll never get it,

not in a hundred years.

It's a claret. Of course.

I assume, then, it's one of the smaller vineyards.

Maybe it is, and then again...

maybe it isn't.

But it's a good year?

One of the great years?

Yes, that I can guarantee.

Then that shouldn't be too difficult.

And look, Richard, I won't force you

to bet on this one.

And why not?

Because it's a very difficult wine.

But I was just saying to the others

while you were out of the room,

that tonight I felt like increasing the bet.

No, that would be silly.

But if you want to bet, we'll have the usual.

A case of the wine itself.

You don't think I can name it, do you?

As a matter of fact,

and with all due respect,

I don't.

Oh, I like this!

I like this more and more!

Now, come on, Michael, let's increase the bet!

No, a case is plenty.

Would you like to bet 50 cases?

50?! 50!

Oh, don't be ridiculous, Richard.

Do start, everyone. It will get cold.

PETER: It looks absolutely perfect.

So, you don't want to increase the bet.

MIKE: Well, as far as I'm concerned,

old man, I don't give a damn.

I'll bet you anything you like.

Anything I like?

Shall we say �10,000?

[Laughter]

That better not be my 20,000 bucks

you're laying.

Oh, certainly, if that's what you want.

So...

you would bet anything I like.

Well, that's what I said.

Mike.

Mike, stop this nonsense

and allow us to eat our food.

Sybil, I'm sorry

you should think this is nonsense.

We're just making a little bet.

Oh, I do love a good bet.

Now, let's see...

what shall we bet for tonight?

You'll never guess this wine, Richard.

So, I don't give a damn

what the stakes are.

You're on.

I want you...

to bet...

the hand of your daughter in marriage.

[Laughter]

Hey, that's not funny.

Ok, Daddy, that's not funny at all.

Oh, dear, they're only joking.

I'm not joking!

[Laughter stops]

It's ridiculous.

But you said I could bet anything I liked.

I meant money. You didn't say money.

Well, that's what I meant.

It's a pity you didn't say it,

because if you want to go back on your word...

It's not a question of going back on my word,

old man, it's a no-bet,

and I'll tell you why.

You can't match the stake.

You don't have a daughter of your own

to put up against mine if you lose.

And even if you had,

I wouldn't want to marry her.

[Laughter]

SYBIL: I'm pleased to hear that, dear.

Yes, I thought you might be!

Very well, then.

I'll bet you anything you like.

My house, for example.

How about my house?

Which one?

The country one.

Why not the town one as well?

Why not?

Very well.

If you wish.

Both my houses.

Now, Daddy, don't be absurd.

It's too silly for words.

I refuse to be betted on like this.

SYBIL: Quite right, dear.

Stop it at once, Mike.

Do eat your food.

MIKE: You know, Louise,

we ought to think about this.

Stop it, Daddy.

I'm not listening.

Louise, just-- I've never heard of

anything so ridiculous in all my life.

Just wait a moment

and hear what I have to say.

I don't want to hear it.

He's willing to bet two houses,

and the point is this, he can't possibly win.

He seems to think he can.

Now, listen to me,

because I know what I'm talking about.

The expert...

when tasting a claret,

as long as it's not one of the famous great wines

like Lafite or Latour,

can only get a certain way towards naming the vineyard.

He can, of course, tell you

which Bordeaux district the wine comes from,

whether it's from St. Emilion,

Pomerol, Graves, or Medoc.

But then each district

has several communes--

the counties.

And each county has many, many small vineyards.

It's impossible for a man

to differentiate between them

just by taste and smell alone.

I don't mind telling you that the one I have here

is a wine from a small vineyard

surrounded by many other small vineyards.

And he'll never get it.

It's impossible.

Are you sure? Of course, I'm sure.

Just...

think about it.

You'll be rich.

Two houses.

You can sell them.

You'll be independent for the rest of your life.

SYBIL: Mike! Stop it now!

Sybil, don't interfere.

I'm the girl's father.

Louise, I wouldn't let you in

for something you didn't want.

Take the bet.

I guarantee you can't lose.

I don't like it.

[Sighs]

You're being silly!

Come on, Joanna, what do you say?

Peter, should she or shouldn't she?

Uh, could you just leave us out of this, please?

PETER: Yeah, I'll drink to that.

Come on, girl, take it.

I'm making you a fortune.

We can't lose.

Daddy, supposing I do lose.

I'm your father, girl.

I keep telling you you can't lose.

I guarantee it.

All right, then.

As long as you're sure.

That's my girl!

Good.

Fine.

It's a bet.

PRATT: Good. Fine.

It's a bet.

[Inhales]

[Clears throat]

Yes.

Very interesting little wine.

Gentle and gracious.

Almost feminine in the aftertaste.

Now we can begin...

to eliminate.

I must move cautiously.

There is much at stake.

First, then.

From which district in Bordeaux

does this wine come?

That's not too difficult.

It's far too light to be either St. Emilion or Graves.

It's obviously a Medoc.

There's no doubt about that.

Now, from which commune in Medoc does it come?

It's a very gentle wine.

Demure and bashful in the first taste,

emerging shyly, but quite graciously

in the second.

A little arch, perhaps.

Something of a tease,

taunting me with just a trace of tannin.

Then in the aftertaste

consoling and feminine.

A certain generosity that one associates

only with the wines of the commune of St. Julien.

Unmistakably...

this is St. Julian.

I'm sorry, my dear,

but I simply cannot have smoking at the table!

Now, let me see. Where were we?

This wine is from Bordeaux

from the commune of St. Julien

from the district of Medoc.

So far so good.

Now we come to the more difficult part--

the name of the vineyard itself.

I'm going to try to establish the growth.

If I can do that, it will be half the battle.

Now, let me see...

Well, this wine is obviously not from

a first-growth vineyard,

nor even a second.

It is not a great wine.

The quality, the radiance,

the--je ne sais quoi--

the power is lacking.

But a third growth...

perhaps.

I must be careful. I must be very careful here.

Yes.

[Clears throat]

I'm right!

I'm sure of it.

It's a fourth growth.

Oh, good, that's better.

Now we're closing in.

What are the fourth growth vineyards

in the commune of St. Julian?

[Lapping]

Mmm!

There it is again.

Tannin in the middle, taste a quick astringent

squeeze upon the tongue!

Yes, now I have it.

This wine comes from one of the small vineyards

around Beychevelle.

I remember it.

I know the district well.

The river, the small harbor where the...

wine ships can't get in anymore

because they're all silted up.

Yes, could this be a Beychevelle itself?

No, I don't think so.

Not quite.

But somewhere very close.

Chateau Talbot.

Chateau Talbot.

Now, could this be a Talbot?

Yes.

I believe it could.

But I'm not happy.

I'm wrong. It's not a Talbot.

I think this is a 1966,

so it couldn't be a Talbot.

Oh, let me think.

It's not a Beychevelle,

and it's not Talbot.

But it's so close to both of them,

so close to the vineyard

it must be almost in between!

But...

Somewhere to the south.

East.

Now, which could that be?

Yes.

I think I have it.

I think I have it.

Yes, yes, yes,

yes, yes, yes.

Yes.

This is a Chateau Branaire-Ducru.

And the year is 1966.

MIKE: Is that your final answer?

PRATT: Oh, yes,

it is.

Chateau Branaire-Ducru.

1966.

A pretty little vineyard.

Lovely old chateau.

I know it quite well.

I can't think why

I didn't recognize it at once.

Come on, Daddy, let's have a peek.

I want my two houses.

Just a minute, wait.

Just a minute.

Michael, what's the matter?

Keep out of this, Sybil, will you please?

He's guessed right, hasn't he?

Well, has he?

Now, don't worry.

This is nothing to worry about.

Richard...

I think you and I had better slip off

and have a little chat.

PRATT: Oh, but I don't want

a little chat.

All I want is to see the label

on that bottle.

Now, come along, Michael.

What are you waiting for?

[Door slams]

MRS. ADAMS: I believe these are yours, sir.

Are they? Perhaps they are.

I don't know.

Oh, yes, they're yours, all right, sir.

You left them in Mr. Schofield's study...

on top of the green filing cabinet, sir,

when you happened to go in there by yourself

before dinner.

You were carrying a soda siphon, sir.

I saw you.

SYBIL: Michael.

Keep calm.

Michael.

Michael!

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