Nowhere is the love of all things French better developed than in our own winelands

PERHAPS France's greatest achievement is the global assumption that its fashion is the chicest, its perfumes the most soigné, its food the most sophisticated and its wine the most full of finesse - "whatever that may mean", as Prince Charles said to Diana on the subject of love.

Nowhere is this Francophilia better developed than in the winelands. When Wines of South Africa presented "South Africa's exceptional red blends" to the US Society of Wine Educators conference in July, the line-up of eight reds was three Rhône-style, three Bordeaux-style, one Italian-style and one Uncle Tom Cobbley. But not a drop of pinotage and thus no Cape blends. Just as well, then, that Absa has announced a Cape Blend competition, with reds containing between 30% and 75% pinotage qualified to enter.

French should be the conference language when the keynote address is titled: "New Zealand: the France of the New World." There is also a bonus session entitled "Is wine better than sex?" - somewhat unsportingly described in the programme as "non-tasting". Of course, Frenchmen do consider themselves the world's best lovers.

In a video of the judging panel's comments on the best performers in the recent Global Trading Shiraz Challenge, the highest form of praise was comparison to the Rhône. When French Champagne producers took legal steps to protect their brand name, SA bubbly producers settled for Méthode Cap Classique (the very name a faux-French neologism), even though the pioneer of SA sparkling wine, Frans Malan, offered them his much more authentic Kaapse Vonkel. Once again, local bubbly boys seem to have shot themselves in the foot by importing two Frenchies to judge the Amorim Cork Cap Classique Challenge. They hated the ripe fruit flavours and relatively low acidities of local MCC; with hindsight, only to be expected, as MCC is a serious competitor to Champagne in the new Age of Austerity for most consumers.

Burgundy is the paradigm for SA pinot noir and the Loire for chenin blanc. Santam even sponsors a local wine competition with only French-speaking judges, who sniff out "classic style" wines in the same way sows snuffle truffles in Europe.

But is everything hunky-dory in the dizzy milieu of French hedonism? This year's San Pellegrino tabulation of the world's top 50 restaurants includes not a single French address in the top 10. When I mentioned this to Willem Kool, the Gwen Gill of Dutch newspaper De Telegraaf, he replied with amazement: "Of course, don't you know French cuisine is more useless than its soccer team?"

Right on cue comes the publication of Michael Steinberger's obituary for French cuisine, Au Revoir to All That: The Rise and Fall of French Cuisine.

At the first Swartland Revolution in November, to be held in Riebeek-Kasteel, the keynote speaker is Stefan Ogier from Domaine Michel & Stéphane Ogier from Ampuis, France. Well, he may be a "world-renowned producer of fine Rhône wine", but he's not half as famous as Eben Sadie, Adi Badenhorst or Marc Kent, the Swartland's Lenin, Castro and Che Guevara respectively.