When it comes to wine, does price matter?

How much would you spend on a bottle of good wine?

And can you discern the difference between a $30 bottle and a $200 one?

When weighing up what to spend on wine, for most people it probably comes down to a couple of factors:
• is the bottle worth the price?
• does the occasion warrant the expense?

So if you're proposing marriage you'll probably justify splashing out on a bottle of Bollinger; likewise you'll spend a little extra on something special for a magical dinner on a Roman holiday. Whereas for Tuesday night at your local bistro you're happy to restrict yourself to a modest BYO.

For wine lovers, it comes down to the difference between drinking a great bottle and an ordinary one. Pricier wines have nuance, length, and ageing potential (or "bloodlines") and are definitely more enjoyable. But how much is that experience worth?

A wine educator, Peter Bourne, reckons the best-value drinking in Australia is in the $30 to $50 bottle range and I tend to agree. Wine, for the most part, is fairly priced in Australia – unlike some countries like France where a lot of what you are paying for is land value and legacy. Coveted parcels of land in the Bordeaux region, protected by the French appellation system, is just one of the factors contributing to the $1000 plus price tag.

The average Australian wine drinker doesn't know much about the pricier imports so is justifiably reluctant to take a gamble – for the price of a top local wine you could well end up with a mediocre French one. For less than $50 you can get a Stonier Reserve Pinot Noir or a Henschke Keyneton Estate – Australian experiences that won't leave you wanting.

I can't help but wonder if the fetishising of fine wine raises expectations so high as to take all of fun out of the actual drinking.

How high will you spend for a special occasion? What is your usual price range? And can you discern the difference between a $30 bottle and a $200 one?

This post originally appeared in The Sydney Morning Herald.

Why men should think pink

There's no wine quite as perfect for the Australian heat as a rosé. I'd even go so far as to say it's better than beer.

Don't believe me?

Served nice and chilled, it's every bit as refreshing on a warm day. Actually, I would go so far as to say this is one of life's greatest pleasures. Like a beer, rosé has some crisp acidity to quench a thirst and is deliciously dry – not as sweet as it looks.

Today's rosés are nothing like the ones our parents guzzled in the 70s, but in some circles are still tainted with this legacy. In the US, where the wine-drinking population is less mature than in Australia, they're still shunned by all but the savviest, chicest drinkers. Here, rosés are a serious beverage. Don't be put off by the pink hue: this is a drink with brawn.

They're also a lot more food-friendly than beer. A social beast, rosé goes with any sort of food imaginable: barbecued meats (red, white and sausages), salamis and cheeses, middle eastern meze, tapas and Spanish flavours, even spicy Asian meals. If rosé were a person, it would be the exuberant friend who gets on with absolutely everybody in any social group and is always terrific fun to be around.

Rosé is a wine to drink outdoors for lunches in the sun and drinks at sunset when the colours in the sky match those inside your glass. They're easy on the alcohol and light-bodied guzzlers, but they don't compromise on flavour.

Rosés are made from red grapes in a white wine method, so they taste like a lighter version of a red wine – tannins and all. There's a bit of spice on the palate with a primary flavour of rosehips or cherry fruits or even raspberry. They don't have as much grunt as a big red though, so if red wines usually give you a headache roses can be a good compromise: you get the flavour without the weighty whack over the head.

Then there are the gorgeous aromas: sunshine, warm earth and the scent of herbs on the breeze. If Cezanne's paintings of the south of France had a taste, this would be it.

Rosés offer instant gratification: they don't need cellaring or maturing and are such a pleasurable, uncomplicated drink. Lively, friendly and impossible to drink without smiling: rosé is truly the happy juice.

And they're cheap. You'll get a great one for around $15 and rarely more than $20, which gives you another reason to smile.

If you've been reluctant up until now to give it a go, take a bottle on a picnic or try one this weekend with a barbecue.

Turkey Flat make theirs from a combination of grapes, including grenache for tannin, which gives the wine a bit of spine. It has a lovely pigmentation from time spent sitting on the skins. Mistletoe in the Hunter Valley make some barrel-fermented ones a savoury European style; these taste of oak and really come into their own with food.

Another Aussie rosé made in the French style is the almost tawny Dominique Portet from the Yarra Valley. Down the road is Yering Station and their coppery rosé made from pinot noir.

A terrifically minty rosé with real length is the Rosato from Amulet Winery in Beechworth. As the Italian name might suggest, its principal ingredient is Sangiovese (the grape of Chianti), alongside Shiraz and Cabernet.

Or you could experiment with some Spanish, Italian or French ones – they tend to be more savoury than the the locals and are serious food wines.

Which rosés do you enjoy drinking?

This post originally appeared in The Sydney Morning Herald.