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What does a man look like after 195 years in jail? This is the hefty price an alleged wine fraudster will have to pay if he is found guilty by a Colorado court for taking people's cash for something that, apparently, did not exist. He dealt in wine futures. Just as he could bank his clients' cash, he could bank on their greed - that is, the expectation that the price they paid for wine today would go up in value tomorrow.

The 10 counts of fraud this man now faces are nothing new in US scam circles. We've been here before. But only comparatively recently with wine. Wine dealers - legitimate ones, let alone the rogues - have only been able to dangle the carrot of future profit before the avaricious eyes of investors in the past 40 years or so. Real estate, gold mines, company shares, even blobs of paint called art have a longer history of attracting those with an appetite to speculate, but wine, before the 1960s, was not considered a worthy investment vehicle. It is now a very glamorous one; underpinning which is the further ignis fatuus that, if all else fails, the wine can be drunk (and it will be gorgeous).

This latter expectation can, of course, be realised only if the bottles actually exist - and if the Colorado story is found to be true, then they didn't - but weekly I am assailed by auction reports of massive prices paid for old wines and for new ones expected to gain in value. And not only at auctions does silly money change hands. I was at a merchant's office the other week, Bibendum in Regent's Park, and I was told that an American had recently coughed up £6,000 for a single bottle of 1869 Ch&#acirc;teau D'Yquem. It would be a miracle if the wine was stunning, but it was one of the greatest ever vintages for this estate (and David Peppercorn, the wine guru who drinks old sweet bordeaux for breakfast, has written that a bottle of the 1869 drunk in 1988 was "marvellous"). However, drinkability with a wine so ancient is not wholly the point. It is having the wine in one's possession that counts (like a lock of Marie Antoinette's hair). Now, 135 years is, I grant you, a long time to wait for an investment to mature, but not as painful as enduring 195 in a Colorado slammer (mind you, if the bloke survives the experience, he can count on a considerable publisher's advance in 2199 to reveal his secret).

It is always assumed that it is red wine that is enhanced with laying down and great ageing. The oldest bottle of red wine I have consumed was a 1933 Ch&#acirc;teau Lafite in 1983, and it was reasonably characterful for half-an-hour, but hardly stupendous. Sweet wines like that D'Yquem are much more likely to react congenially to longevity because of the degree of sugar in their make-up (and 30 or 40 years would not be an outrageous age at which to experience them and find them exciting). But certain dry white wines are also good agers, and I recently tasted three at Tesco.

Tim Adams Semillon 2003 (£8.99, 16.5 points out of 20) is an example of Australia's most alluring white grape - only Clare Valley rieslings can compare for layered richness and beguiling undercurrents of tactile vegetality. This example, right now, is feistier than many a white burgundy (different grape, but what the hell) costing three or four times this price. It should rate 19 points come 2007/8/9.

Did I mention Aussie riesling? Well, Tim Adams Riesling 2004 (16 points, £7.99) is a splendid example, screwcapped to keep it perky for a decade and more. What's more, this is riesling in the guise of sheer, silken, hedonistic, gob-smacking subtlety, yet with emphatic minerally citrusness, too. It ought to be up to 18.5 points in 2008/9.

Normally, much Aussie chardonnay loses its charm over the years if cellared, but Chapel Hill Unwooded Chardonnay 2004 is firm and very finely stuffed with untrammelled fruit, which, thanks to its screwcap, will mature most interestingly. It rates 16 points and costs £6.99. It'll rate 17 points in 18 months, but beyond that I'm really unsure. My guess is that by 2008/9 it could have developed some charming middle-aged wrinkles.

Over at Sainsbury's, meanwhile, there is the screwcapped Wolf Blass Eaglehawk Riesling 2003 (16 points, £4.99), also from Australia, which has terrific potential (18 points possible within three-five years), but is already a tangily quaffable specimen of cool class. From New Zealand, the same retailer has Sanctuary Sauvignon Blanc 2004 (15 points, £6.99). It's a touch raw now (though of utility with shellfish), but it'll concentrate itself more firmly and reach 16.5 points, thanks to its screwcap, in 18 months to two years. Sainsbury's also has a red that is worth gambling on ageing well, though it rates only 14 points now: Chinon Domaine du Colombier 2002 (£5.49) could rate 16.5 points in 2007.

Thresher (mainly via its Wine Rack shops) also has a cellar-worthy red, and it, too, is screwcapped. Vidal Estate Syrah 2002 (16.5 points, £9.99), from New Zealand, is an immediately emphatic liquid of savoury berries and soft yet far from velvety tannins. By 2007/8, it may, though, have developed deeper hints of spice (coriander and pepper) and become raunchier. Just as there are grumpy old men, there are grumpy old wines, and sometimes, just sometimes, they are all the sexier for it.

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