Rain and semi-raw sausages . . . arrrgh. Too often, Irish barbecues are an exercise in survival skills, made bearable - even desirable - by a bizarre annual bout of amnesia. The summer just wouldn't be the summer without the sight of a few daddies in anoraks coming over all boy scoutish at an outdoor grill. Is there a better way? Plan nothing until the last minute, I say. Look up at the sky around Saturday lunchtime. If you see sunny optimism beaming down, seize the phone to round up the revellers, then zoom off to the supermarket for one big, easy shop.
There's no time to go hunting for a white wine here, and a red in that off-licence you pass on the way home. You need to find a tasty pair under the same roof. Easier said than done. I can think of at least a dozen totally quaffable New World red wines which are sold alongside Chardonnays so sickly and oaky they're downright disgusting. Think of the unfolding scenario. Guests wandering happily around the garden (you hope), glass in hand, long before there's any prospect of food. Most will want to start with a white wine that's fruity and refreshing. A few will dive straight into the red, though, so that needs to be fruity and quaffable, too; but it should also have a savoury streak to match the smoky flavours of chargrilled chicken or meat.
What does all that mean, in grape terms? For the white wine, Sauvignon Blanc, lightish Chenin Blanc or Australian Riesling are tempting possibilities. For the red, among lots of contenders, I'd single out Syrah/Shiraz, Argentine Malbec and Californian Zinfandel for that combination of sweet berry flavours and a slightly meaty core. But of course there are scads of blends, both red and white, that would be perfect. Sunny, fruit-salady whites and fleshy reds from the south of France; refreshing whites and juicy reds from Spain; rich, smouldering reds from the south of Italy. It's probably more important to spend a few minutes hunting about for the right style of wine than to spend a huge amount of money. Barbecues aren't the time to uncork precious bottles - or, if you do, to expect that their subtleties will survive smoke, sun, wind, raindrops, charred-to-death food, in any combination. It's the equivalent of wearing your best ballgown to the beach, instead of cheapo shorts. Have a good one.