June 2008 Archives
There are a lot of reasons why Riesling deserves a bit of love. It's refreshing, tasty and is generally excellent value. I like it most, though, for its transparency. When made in the usual Australian dry style, there's nowhere to hide, with vintage conditions shining through clearly. This makes Riesling the most tantalising of grapes; a great year, when it happens, promises so much. Tasting a Riesling from such a vintage is like tasting the potential of wine fully expressed. Such a Riesling with bottle age, then, simply multiplies the anticipation.
Perhaps I should start this note with my conclusion: that this wine is extraordinary and beautiful. Now that I've set the scene, I can try to describe it adequately. On the nose, delicate aromas of white stonefruit, a hint of honey, flint, etc. As with the best wines, the aromas are in a sense indistinguishable from each other, because they fit together so elegantly. There are some influences from bottle age here, but I suggest they are limited to a sense of honey and softness that may not have been present in the youthful wine. It's certainly not a full-blown aged style, which makes sense considering the vintage and closure (Stelvin).
The palate is a wonderful mixture of freshness and rich flavour. Tingly, steely acid hits the tongue immediately on entry, and is somewhat deceptive in terms of the wine's flavour development. Although the structure remains youthful, the mid palate reveals definite aged influences, as yet subtle, but indicative of a promising development path. Honey, round stonefruit and lime juice are well balanced between each other, without the awkwardness of some Rieslings in the middle of their development period. I don't know whether it's a question of quality or simply fortunate timing, but some Rieslings just seem to taste awesome at each stage of their development, whereas others hit their straps at a certain point and, outside of this window, can seem gangly and unbalanced. This Grosset is definitely the former type; it's a wine that seems to glide effortlessly into the moment, composed and confident. Beautifully structured acid that mellows somewhat with time in glass carries flavour through the after palate and onto a finish that clings to the tongue like a determined celebrity stalker.
Just excellent. What more to say?
Grosset
Price: $A35
Closure: Stelvin
Date tasted: June 2008
Perhaps I should start this note with my conclusion: that this wine is extraordinary and beautiful. Now that I've set the scene, I can try to describe it adequately. On the nose, delicate aromas of white stonefruit, a hint of honey, flint, etc. As with the best wines, the aromas are in a sense indistinguishable from each other, because they fit together so elegantly. There are some influences from bottle age here, but I suggest they are limited to a sense of honey and softness that may not have been present in the youthful wine. It's certainly not a full-blown aged style, which makes sense considering the vintage and closure (Stelvin).
The palate is a wonderful mixture of freshness and rich flavour. Tingly, steely acid hits the tongue immediately on entry, and is somewhat deceptive in terms of the wine's flavour development. Although the structure remains youthful, the mid palate reveals definite aged influences, as yet subtle, but indicative of a promising development path. Honey, round stonefruit and lime juice are well balanced between each other, without the awkwardness of some Rieslings in the middle of their development period. I don't know whether it's a question of quality or simply fortunate timing, but some Rieslings just seem to taste awesome at each stage of their development, whereas others hit their straps at a certain point and, outside of this window, can seem gangly and unbalanced. This Grosset is definitely the former type; it's a wine that seems to glide effortlessly into the moment, composed and confident. Beautifully structured acid that mellows somewhat with time in glass carries flavour through the after palate and onto a finish that clings to the tongue like a determined celebrity stalker.
Just excellent. What more to say?
Grosset
Price: $A35
Closure: Stelvin
Date tasted: June 2008
Out of the bottle, this wine shows as a dark, heavy Australian shiraz with distinct aromas of hazelnuts and burnt sugar. However, it doesn't come across as overly complex; it's a bit dumb, strangely enough; with some more time and air, it didn't seem to progress much beyond an agreeable but slightly generic "warm climate Syrah" note.
Drinking the wine is an exercise in the texture of luxury; this is as plush as Beverly Hills plastic surgery, round and full at the edges, but (surprisingly) not overdone: this is not a humongous Barossa Valley fruit bomb in the mold of a Parker 95, but something far more difficult and rare: a balanced, well proportioned wine that is absolutely lovely on its own terms - and thankfully without a face-numbing hit of alcohol to back it up.
The finish turns out to be the most amazing thing here: if it weren't for the finish, you wouldn't think this wine's as expensive as it is. It lasts. Minutes later, you still have the impression of savoriness; it's umami beyond belief and reminds me of ketjap manis and dark chocolate ganache. Long after you've swallowed, it's still there... and there seems to be just a hint of minty eucalyptus that sneaks up after a minute or two. Delicious.
Penfolds
Price: US $40
Closure: Cork
Date tasted: June 2008
Drinking the wine is an exercise in the texture of luxury; this is as plush as Beverly Hills plastic surgery, round and full at the edges, but (surprisingly) not overdone: this is not a humongous Barossa Valley fruit bomb in the mold of a Parker 95, but something far more difficult and rare: a balanced, well proportioned wine that is absolutely lovely on its own terms - and thankfully without a face-numbing hit of alcohol to back it up.
The finish turns out to be the most amazing thing here: if it weren't for the finish, you wouldn't think this wine's as expensive as it is. It lasts. Minutes later, you still have the impression of savoriness; it's umami beyond belief and reminds me of ketjap manis and dark chocolate ganache. Long after you've swallowed, it's still there... and there seems to be just a hint of minty eucalyptus that sneaks up after a minute or two. Delicious.
Penfolds
Price: US $40
Closure: Cork
Date tasted: June 2008
Canberra churns out its share of good Rieslings, and is home to the International Riesling Challenge, amongst other vinous highlights. Ken Helm of Helm Wines has been a key advocate for this variety in the district, and I will be tasting his Premium Riesling soon. For now, though, another regional benchmark -- the Clonakilla Riesling. On release, this was right up there (to my taste) with celebrated Clare and Eden wines from this vintage, so I'm interested to find out how it's tracking.
People talk about letting red wines breathe, but white wines can be equally lumpy on opening, and often benefit from a bit of swirling and loving care. Case in point: this wine was a bit all over the place at first. Spritzy, acidic, some aged characters but overwhelmingly dry and austere. Not a great mix of elements. An hour later, things are settling in well.
An interesting nose of nuts and baked goods mixed with a distinctive, savoury fruit note. I'm not sure it's quite coherent, but it's certainly characterful and perhaps even slightly provocative. Even after settling a bit, entry is still pretty lively, with full-on acid that collides with dry lemon fruit flavour. There are also some aged characters, but they are not straightforward honey/toast. Rather, they are more savoury and perhaps buttery, very much in alignment with the nose and more than a bit of fun. The whole, though, feels underdeveloped to me, and the wine's still-prominent primary character is very much dominant. That's not bad, it's merely indicative of a certain stage of development, and does not mask the intrinsic qualities present, such as complexity and elegance. You realise on the mid palate that flavour intensity is impressively high, and the acid has shown itself well architected, if a little coarse. The after palate becomes quite savoury, and suggests to me this wine would be a brilliant aperitif, perhaps served with strongly flavoured canapes. Decent, fresh finish.
I'm not at all disappointed with this tasting, and believe this wine has its best days still ahead. It's developing really interesting aged characters that are out of step with the Clare/Eden norm and are all the better for it.
Clonakilla
Price: $A25
Closure: Cork
Date tasted: June 2008
People talk about letting red wines breathe, but white wines can be equally lumpy on opening, and often benefit from a bit of swirling and loving care. Case in point: this wine was a bit all over the place at first. Spritzy, acidic, some aged characters but overwhelmingly dry and austere. Not a great mix of elements. An hour later, things are settling in well.
An interesting nose of nuts and baked goods mixed with a distinctive, savoury fruit note. I'm not sure it's quite coherent, but it's certainly characterful and perhaps even slightly provocative. Even after settling a bit, entry is still pretty lively, with full-on acid that collides with dry lemon fruit flavour. There are also some aged characters, but they are not straightforward honey/toast. Rather, they are more savoury and perhaps buttery, very much in alignment with the nose and more than a bit of fun. The whole, though, feels underdeveloped to me, and the wine's still-prominent primary character is very much dominant. That's not bad, it's merely indicative of a certain stage of development, and does not mask the intrinsic qualities present, such as complexity and elegance. You realise on the mid palate that flavour intensity is impressively high, and the acid has shown itself well architected, if a little coarse. The after palate becomes quite savoury, and suggests to me this wine would be a brilliant aperitif, perhaps served with strongly flavoured canapes. Decent, fresh finish.
I'm not at all disappointed with this tasting, and believe this wine has its best days still ahead. It's developing really interesting aged characters that are out of step with the Clare/Eden norm and are all the better for it.
Clonakilla
Price: $A25
Closure: Cork
Date tasted: June 2008
I just moved the final 11 cases of wine from a storage space in downtown San Diego to our garage. Ouch. Remind me to never, ever move again - it's been one year since I moved here, and I still have no idea where half of my wine is. That bottle of Ch. Musar Dad gave me? I dunno, maybe under the guest bed?
Anyhow, I tried and somewhat succeeded to jam it all in a cheesy DIY "500 bottle" stand-alone wine cooling unit: it didn't quite work, so I decided to just pull all of the stuff in Stelvin out and keep it in the one cool spot in the garage. I figure I'll try to drink it this summer or serve it to wedding guests in August, what the heck.
This brings us to this lovely bottle of Chehalem pinot noir. Oddly enough, this is the first red wine I've ever drunk from Chehalem: I love their rieslings and their pinot gris is pretty darned good too. They are of course from Oregon, however, so I'm obviously way behind on the Pacific Northwest boosterism/logrolling schedule, so here we go.
First off, there's a soothing, transfixing cola nut and Rainier cherry note that springs up the moment you unscrew the cap. It's the kind of smell that instantly puts you at ease: whew, I just blew twenty bucks on a bottle of pinot and is thankfully not crap. It's just a little bit sappy, so it doesn't really strike me as a truly high end pinot, but the quality to price ratio? I can work with that just fine. There could also be just a hint of spicy barrel in there as well, and there's even something like fresh roasted chestnuts (without the roasting). Go figure!
Color is lovely: a milky light red that's miles away from the overdone dark of some New World pinot. The flavor comes as a bit of a (welcome) surprise: fairly acidic and bright, no obvious sweetness, good body, with a bit of wood (?) supporting full, vibrant cherry and other red fruits. This is a fine example of standard quality Oregon pinot noir, and it's very good value for money.
NB: there seems to a very slight spritziness here that dissipates quickly; you might want to decant this one.
Chehalem
Price: US $32
Closure: Stelvin
Date tasted: June 2008
Anyhow, I tried and somewhat succeeded to jam it all in a cheesy DIY "500 bottle" stand-alone wine cooling unit: it didn't quite work, so I decided to just pull all of the stuff in Stelvin out and keep it in the one cool spot in the garage. I figure I'll try to drink it this summer or serve it to wedding guests in August, what the heck.
This brings us to this lovely bottle of Chehalem pinot noir. Oddly enough, this is the first red wine I've ever drunk from Chehalem: I love their rieslings and their pinot gris is pretty darned good too. They are of course from Oregon, however, so I'm obviously way behind on the Pacific Northwest boosterism/logrolling schedule, so here we go.
First off, there's a soothing, transfixing cola nut and Rainier cherry note that springs up the moment you unscrew the cap. It's the kind of smell that instantly puts you at ease: whew, I just blew twenty bucks on a bottle of pinot and is thankfully not crap. It's just a little bit sappy, so it doesn't really strike me as a truly high end pinot, but the quality to price ratio? I can work with that just fine. There could also be just a hint of spicy barrel in there as well, and there's even something like fresh roasted chestnuts (without the roasting). Go figure!
Color is lovely: a milky light red that's miles away from the overdone dark of some New World pinot. The flavor comes as a bit of a (welcome) surprise: fairly acidic and bright, no obvious sweetness, good body, with a bit of wood (?) supporting full, vibrant cherry and other red fruits. This is a fine example of standard quality Oregon pinot noir, and it's very good value for money.
NB: there seems to a very slight spritziness here that dissipates quickly; you might want to decant this one.
Chehalem
Price: US $32
Closure: Stelvin
Date tasted: June 2008
It has taken a while to get a German wine up at Full Pour, which is odd because I'm a bit of a fan, and Chris is a Germanophile and fluent speaker of the language (I'm sure he will forgive me for spilling a few of his secrets). I guess I don't buy as many as I should; the story of all Riesling perhaps, not just the German variety. In any case, here we have a slightly older release from the 2005 vintage, by all accounts a rather good one in the Mosel-Saar-Ruwer (or simply Mosel, as the region is now known).
A colour that shows no signs of age as yet -- still pale and fresh with a slightly greenish tint. The nose really is impressive at first sniff. Well defined aromas of slate, talc, citrus flowers and fuller, more tropical fruit all emerge from the glass. It's an instant "wow" wine, not through an excess of impact, rather because of its intrinsic complexity and attractiveness. The nose faded a little through the evening.
On entry, initially a very tight, coiled experience, with chalky acidity serving to attenuate the wine's line quite prematurely. This resolved itself quickly, though, and the wine struck its true balance within about half an hour. There is rich, primary fruit on the mid palate, rather honeysuckle-like but with a prominent slatey, mineral dimension too. Complexity isn't quite at the same level as shown on the nose, but the fruit character is multi-dimensional and jumps between richness, slate and lighter, powdery florals. For its part, the acidity never quite integrates as seamlessly as one would like. It continues to jut out a bit, being both a little rough and a little isolated at the same time. Imagine someone singing a song by yelping once, loudly, as opposed to maintaining a melodic line through the whole piece. This acid character prevents the wine from achieving a truly sophisticated balance, and the fruit ends up cloying ever so slightly. Despite this, there's an undeniably impressive, long finish to the wine.
Not entirely satisfying, then, but still a lot to enjoy. I wonder if the acidity will play off against the fruit better with a little more bottle age. I'll leave one or two in the cellar to find out.
Dr Loosen
Price: $A35
Closure: Stelvin
Date tasted: June 2008
I've been on the Bonny Doon mailing list for coming up on a decade at this point, and I still feel my heart sink whenever I open up my every-two-months club shipment and see... something Italianate. Try as I might, I just can't bring myself to wholeheartedly embrace Italian wines and winemaking styles, and that goes double when it's an American or other winery who have just issued a press release saying that the second the American consumer market discovers Walla Walla sangiovese, they are absolutely sure that a massive new (and profitable!) wine market will appear out of nowhere.
Yes, I've had ecstatic experiences with Italian wines before - Amarone is by far one of my favorite wines - but when I see something like this, I get all sad panda, very quickly. So, it was with some trepidation that I opened this bottle tonight.
There's an indefinable, high-tech-ness to the nose here; it smells massively fruity, and there's an odd designer yeast-y (or something) note here was well. It's kind of like aerosolized white pepper intruding into a basket of overripe raspberries set somewhere in a dilapadated garden of tea roses; there's also a sour muskiness that smells of dry cleaning sent out after a long night at Studio 54 - all floral aldehydes, sweat, and "clean." Finally, there's a damascone peachiness sneaking in at the end. It's all very confusing and kind of remarkable - this is wine? is it supposed to smell like this?
Just a little bit sweet in the mouth, there's a wonderful dark cherry note with tannins hiding in the background (but they don't really seem to do much; was this microoxygenated?). Acidity is reasonable, it's actually kind of delicious, and then there's a very soft finish of damask rose with the tannin lingering around just a bit as well.
So, yeah, this is a total Frankenwine, but hey. It's delicious, it's a welcome experiment, and it would (presumably) be a hell of a lot of fun to serve this to a connisseur of European wines and see if they can guess what it is. I know I couldn't.
Bonny Doon Vineyard
Price: US $25
Closure: Stelvin
Date tasted: June 2008
Yes, I've had ecstatic experiences with Italian wines before - Amarone is by far one of my favorite wines - but when I see something like this, I get all sad panda, very quickly. So, it was with some trepidation that I opened this bottle tonight.
There's an indefinable, high-tech-ness to the nose here; it smells massively fruity, and there's an odd designer yeast-y (or something) note here was well. It's kind of like aerosolized white pepper intruding into a basket of overripe raspberries set somewhere in a dilapadated garden of tea roses; there's also a sour muskiness that smells of dry cleaning sent out after a long night at Studio 54 - all floral aldehydes, sweat, and "clean." Finally, there's a damascone peachiness sneaking in at the end. It's all very confusing and kind of remarkable - this is wine? is it supposed to smell like this?
Just a little bit sweet in the mouth, there's a wonderful dark cherry note with tannins hiding in the background (but they don't really seem to do much; was this microoxygenated?). Acidity is reasonable, it's actually kind of delicious, and then there's a very soft finish of damask rose with the tannin lingering around just a bit as well.
So, yeah, this is a total Frankenwine, but hey. It's delicious, it's a welcome experiment, and it would (presumably) be a hell of a lot of fun to serve this to a connisseur of European wines and see if they can guess what it is. I know I couldn't.
Bonny Doon Vineyard
Price: US $25
Closure: Stelvin
Date tasted: June 2008
Clad in equally stylish packaging, this wine is the Yarra Valley sibling to William Downie's Mornington Peninsula Pinot tasted earlier at Full Pour. I really enjoyed the latter wine, especially after some extended breathing, and I enjoy what Mr Downie is doing with Pinot; that is, allowing regionality to speak for itself without attempt at imposing a sense of homogeneity. This is winemaking without ego, and it's what I drink wine for.
Deep but not especially dense colour, mixtures of orange and red and purple (and nowhere near as gaudy as that sounds). The nose is a riot of aromas from first pouring, and only improves with air. Instantly a deeper, darker wine than the Mornington Peninsula label, there are notes of turkish delight, ripe plum, bubble gum, sweet spice and other goodness, even a hint of sous-bois. Expressive and complex but with a sense of poise too, despite its generosity.
Palate is equally fascinating, though perhaps a little unexpectedly controlled after the nose. The fruit's depth and ripeness is certainly confirmed here. Entry is alive and sufficiently (though not overly) acidic, with a nice focused flow over the tongue. Flavour drives a tight line to the middle palate, where things settle and relax a little. The wine, interestingly, shoots off in a few directions at this point, with a high toned fruit lift on the one hand, and a foundation of ripe plum on the other, not at odds, but instead indicative of excellent definition and structure. Grainy tannins emerge quite late in the palate and help dark fruit flavour to reverberate through a very lengthy, impressive finish.
There's a lot going on with this wine, and its complexity will surely increase with time. If you can keep your hands off it. The fact is, it is fabulous right now, with its ultra-delicious flavour profile and approachable structure. Now or later, it's a win-win.
William Downie
Price: $A40
Closure: Diam
Date tasted: June 2008
Deep but not especially dense colour, mixtures of orange and red and purple (and nowhere near as gaudy as that sounds). The nose is a riot of aromas from first pouring, and only improves with air. Instantly a deeper, darker wine than the Mornington Peninsula label, there are notes of turkish delight, ripe plum, bubble gum, sweet spice and other goodness, even a hint of sous-bois. Expressive and complex but with a sense of poise too, despite its generosity.
Palate is equally fascinating, though perhaps a little unexpectedly controlled after the nose. The fruit's depth and ripeness is certainly confirmed here. Entry is alive and sufficiently (though not overly) acidic, with a nice focused flow over the tongue. Flavour drives a tight line to the middle palate, where things settle and relax a little. The wine, interestingly, shoots off in a few directions at this point, with a high toned fruit lift on the one hand, and a foundation of ripe plum on the other, not at odds, but instead indicative of excellent definition and structure. Grainy tannins emerge quite late in the palate and help dark fruit flavour to reverberate through a very lengthy, impressive finish.
There's a lot going on with this wine, and its complexity will surely increase with time. If you can keep your hands off it. The fact is, it is fabulous right now, with its ultra-delicious flavour profile and approachable structure. Now or later, it's a win-win.
William Downie
Price: $A40
Closure: Diam
Date tasted: June 2008
Only a slight softness to the rich, crimson color suggests that this wine isn't at all young; on the nose, what you get is mostly soft, sweet, rich earth with an gentle framing of soft spice. On the whole, it's rather akin to Davidoff cigarettes: there's something about this that screams "expensive," as plush and rich as a Birkin bag, with a suggestion of the tobacco drying shed thrown in for good measure.
In the mouth, it seems like it's begun to fade slightly, with a certain drabness of fruit present. Even so, it is undeniably lovely and seems just the thing to have with a slice of Parma ham (thankfully, I do indeed have some handy thanks to fresh&easy's discount pricing). There's still a small bit of tannin on the finish - not very much - and it all ends with a sigh. Gentle, distinguished, elegant, and, I suppose, a reminder of what some Napa wines may have tasted like before Screaming Eagle, Colgin, and so on redefined the style in the 1990s.
If you have some of this, now would be a good time to drink it. If you don't, it's not good value at the full retail price, but if you see it for $25, I'd seriously consider it.
Beaulieu Vineyard
Price: US $25 (K&L Wines pricing, normally $50).
Closure: Cork
Date tasted: June 2008
In the mouth, it seems like it's begun to fade slightly, with a certain drabness of fruit present. Even so, it is undeniably lovely and seems just the thing to have with a slice of Parma ham (thankfully, I do indeed have some handy thanks to fresh&easy's discount pricing). There's still a small bit of tannin on the finish - not very much - and it all ends with a sigh. Gentle, distinguished, elegant, and, I suppose, a reminder of what some Napa wines may have tasted like before Screaming Eagle, Colgin, and so on redefined the style in the 1990s.
If you have some of this, now would be a good time to drink it. If you don't, it's not good value at the full retail price, but if you see it for $25, I'd seriously consider it.
Beaulieu Vineyard
Price: US $25 (K&L Wines pricing, normally $50).
Closure: Cork
Date tasted: June 2008
Of all the Rieslings made from grapes of the celebrated 2002 vintage in the Clare and Eden Valleys, this wine holds a special place in my heart. For a start, it was one of the most impressive of these wines on release. Secondly, it provided considerable enjoyment to Chris and I while dining at a (long gone) Indonesian restaurant in Glebe. I've had a six pack sitting in the cellar since 2002, and have managed to avoid drinking any until now. Great expectations, indeed.
The colour shows signs of development, with richer golden hues intruding into a pale, straw-like tint. Nose is funky. It's funky in a roast nuts and honey sort of way, perhaps with some vanilla-like notes, even a hint of petrol. It's a generous, almost slightly fat aroma profile, and most attractive too, although hardly an "ultra clean" aged style. Think toasted muesli and yoghurt and you'll get an idea of this wine as it stands right now.
Entry is deceptively smooth, as it takes a moment for acid to register on the tongue. Once it does, we see an attractive fullness of body (for Riesling, anyway) with dry, slightly chalky acidity. The acid feels slightly harsh, as if it doesn't quite belong alongside this wine's nascent richness. There's more honey, some toasted oats, a little vanilla and spice. There's also more than a hint of dry lime, a hangover from this wine's fresher days. Flavour drives through the after palate with admirable definition, and the wine's length is beyond reproach.
As much as i'm enjoying this, it's a striptease performance that never quite reveals what you'd like to see. Unlike those Rieslings where aged and fresh notes intertwine in scintillating conversation, I suspect this wine needs a more complete expression of age to display satisfying coherence and true character. Having said that, all the ingredients are here -- intensity, complexity, structure. It's a wine of quality for sure. I'll be eagerly cracking another bottle open in, say, two years' time.
Mesh
Price: $A25
Closure: Stelvin
Date tasted: June 2008
A slightly older white Burgundy this time, which will hopefully come as a relief after a slew of younger siblings. As an aside, at Full Pour we taste wines in a "real world" context as much as possible, which often means a single bottle at a time, often sipped slowly all evening. This serves to highlight the role of variety in enjoyment. A self-confessed addict of difference, I find working my way through a series of similar wines both highly revealing and slightly boring at the same time. Still, there are worse things I could do...
Pretty golden hay colour, good clarity. A really seductive nose, with rich almond, grapefruit, butter, and some clear botrytis influence. It's a wine that reaches out of the glass and sucks you in without resorting to excess vulgarity -- sort of like the difference between someone with a magnetic personality versus someone who is just loud. There are also hints of roast nut and spice that add complexity to the aroma profile. The palate delivers solidly on the nose. Entry is slippery-slidey, without any acidic harshness and yet showing freshness and vitality. Rich, round fruit builds on the tongue towards the middle palate, just as some acid structure starts to tingle on the edges of the tongue. Despite the freshness, this is a relaxed, generous wine that you don't have to work especially hard to enjoy. A lot of this is to do with the ultra silky mouthfeel that balances slipperiness with acidity most satisfyingly. More citrus fruit and hints of sweet honey coat the tongue. The savoury nut/oak observed on the nose props up the fruit flavour in balanced fashion. If it's not quite as complex as the nose suggests, this is easily compensated by the smooth, easy elegance of this wine. A nutty lift through the after palate keeps on rising through a very satisfying, flavoursome finish.
Yum! I'm tempted to say this wine lacks a certain sophistication, but that's not quite right. It's breezy yet substantial, and echoes a sense of generous provincial hospitality. Its mix of fresh and ultra-ripe notes is, I find, beguiling. Delicious, bloody good value, and quite different from all the other white Burgundies recently tasted.
Domaine Emilian Gillet
Price: $A34
Closure: Cork
Date tasted: June 2008
Pretty golden hay colour, good clarity. A really seductive nose, with rich almond, grapefruit, butter, and some clear botrytis influence. It's a wine that reaches out of the glass and sucks you in without resorting to excess vulgarity -- sort of like the difference between someone with a magnetic personality versus someone who is just loud. There are also hints of roast nut and spice that add complexity to the aroma profile. The palate delivers solidly on the nose. Entry is slippery-slidey, without any acidic harshness and yet showing freshness and vitality. Rich, round fruit builds on the tongue towards the middle palate, just as some acid structure starts to tingle on the edges of the tongue. Despite the freshness, this is a relaxed, generous wine that you don't have to work especially hard to enjoy. A lot of this is to do with the ultra silky mouthfeel that balances slipperiness with acidity most satisfyingly. More citrus fruit and hints of sweet honey coat the tongue. The savoury nut/oak observed on the nose props up the fruit flavour in balanced fashion. If it's not quite as complex as the nose suggests, this is easily compensated by the smooth, easy elegance of this wine. A nutty lift through the after palate keeps on rising through a very satisfying, flavoursome finish.
Yum! I'm tempted to say this wine lacks a certain sophistication, but that's not quite right. It's breezy yet substantial, and echoes a sense of generous provincial hospitality. Its mix of fresh and ultra-ripe notes is, I find, beguiling. Delicious, bloody good value, and quite different from all the other white Burgundies recently tasted.
Domaine Emilian Gillet
Price: $A34
Closure: Cork
Date tasted: June 2008
If Riesling is daggy enough, then aged Riesling would surely give our fortified Muscats and Tokays a run as most unfashionable wine style. How unfair (on all fronts). For starters, like the fortifieds, many of Australia's Riesling styles are quite singular, and on this basis alone worthy of attention. Then there's the question of kerosene aromas in aged Riesling. I admit to some partiality to these aromas, and personally don't regard them as a fault if in balance. But this is far from settled. What should aged Riesling taste like? Perhaps some readers might weigh in with opinions here.
To the undoubted relief of some, petrol doesn't enter into the picture at all with this wine. The integrity of screwcap closures, though, does. This would have to be one of the oldest Stelvin-sealed wines in my cellar, so it was particularly interesting to see a lot of crustiness, attributable I assume to leakage, on and around the screw cap after I had opened this bottle. Mind you, I had to use a pair of multigrips to actually get the cap off, as it was essentially glued to the bottle (we winos are a resourceful lot when it comes to opening wine). I feared the worst.
The colour shows development, but not overly so, with some golden-hay hues that are pretty but not especially dense or rich at this stage. So far, so good. Some definite aged characters on the nose: honey, toast, nuttiness, all those good things. As mentioned above, no kerosene on this one. There's also little primary fruit, which is interesting because the aged characters, though evident, don't seem to me to be in full flower.
Entry is very lively and recalls a freshly bottled wine rather than one at eight years of age. Very lively, almost spritzy acidity dominates the mouthfeel and creates an odd counterpoint to the aged notes that begin to register on the tongue. As with the nose, there are notes of honey and toast and little primary fruit. Acid becomes more assertive towards the mid-palate and, for me, is quite intrusive given this wine's stage of flavour development. On the after palate, the honey starts to fade and, as there's precious little primary fruit, one is left with an impression of toast and sourness and not much else. To the acid's credit, though, it does push the wine to an excellent, lengthy finish.
The first thing I will note is that I tried a bottle of this about a year ago and was blown away by how good it was. That bottle (looking back on my notes) showed more development and brilliant balance between primary and aged characters. It appears there was also quite a lot more fruit still in evidence. It had me singing the praises of our wonderful, cost effective Rieslings. So I'm led to suspect this bottle isn't representative, although the fact that its structure is still so youthful is odd. Perhaps the fading primary fruit accentuates this impression. Having said all that, it's not a bad wine, and if I had tasted this as my first bottle from the cellar, I would simply have said it needs more time for the structure to calm and aged notes to develop further. Perhaps, indeed, that's all it wants.
Leasingham
Price: $A15ish
Closure: Stelvin
Date tasted: June 2008
To the undoubted relief of some, petrol doesn't enter into the picture at all with this wine. The integrity of screwcap closures, though, does. This would have to be one of the oldest Stelvin-sealed wines in my cellar, so it was particularly interesting to see a lot of crustiness, attributable I assume to leakage, on and around the screw cap after I had opened this bottle. Mind you, I had to use a pair of multigrips to actually get the cap off, as it was essentially glued to the bottle (we winos are a resourceful lot when it comes to opening wine). I feared the worst.
The colour shows development, but not overly so, with some golden-hay hues that are pretty but not especially dense or rich at this stage. So far, so good. Some definite aged characters on the nose: honey, toast, nuttiness, all those good things. As mentioned above, no kerosene on this one. There's also little primary fruit, which is interesting because the aged characters, though evident, don't seem to me to be in full flower.
Entry is very lively and recalls a freshly bottled wine rather than one at eight years of age. Very lively, almost spritzy acidity dominates the mouthfeel and creates an odd counterpoint to the aged notes that begin to register on the tongue. As with the nose, there are notes of honey and toast and little primary fruit. Acid becomes more assertive towards the mid-palate and, for me, is quite intrusive given this wine's stage of flavour development. On the after palate, the honey starts to fade and, as there's precious little primary fruit, one is left with an impression of toast and sourness and not much else. To the acid's credit, though, it does push the wine to an excellent, lengthy finish.
The first thing I will note is that I tried a bottle of this about a year ago and was blown away by how good it was. That bottle (looking back on my notes) showed more development and brilliant balance between primary and aged characters. It appears there was also quite a lot more fruit still in evidence. It had me singing the praises of our wonderful, cost effective Rieslings. So I'm led to suspect this bottle isn't representative, although the fact that its structure is still so youthful is odd. Perhaps the fading primary fruit accentuates this impression. Having said all that, it's not a bad wine, and if I had tasted this as my first bottle from the cellar, I would simply have said it needs more time for the structure to calm and aged notes to develop further. Perhaps, indeed, that's all it wants.
Leasingham
Price: $A15ish
Closure: Stelvin
Date tasted: June 2008
What a handsome package. It's almost too pretty to open, this bottle, capped as it is with a thick glob of wax and decorated with minimal yet humanist labels/artwork. But wine's there to be drunk, so after admiring it for a moment, I attacked it with a waiter's friend, revealing a lovely Diam seal. Mere moments with the pump action corkscrew and here we are, ready to taste.
The packaging is so seductive and promises such satisfaction, it comes as a (perhaps unreasonable) surprise to find the wine inside isn't quite so easy. For starters, there's a powerfully feral pong that emerges from the glass at first. It's not quite stalk, and not quite oaked spice, but exists somewhere in between, sitting somewhat lumpily atop bright, fresh strawberry/cherry fruit. As someone who likes a bit of pong in his Pinot, I enjoy this flavour profile, but it's an intellectual experience. With about half an hour of swirling, the feral-ness has integrated nicely into the underlying fruit, becoming an extra layer of complexity rather than a disjointed, if characterful, sore thumb.
The palate confirms the light, bright nature of this wine's flavour profile, and introduces the assertive acid that provides such restraint and definition. It's all sunshine and light on entry, the acid creating a vivid, fresh impression and the fruit backing this up with bright red, high toned flavour. This wine is a lesson in how impact can be completely different from weight, how intensity is not the same as density. It's so fleet on the palate, one is surprised any flavour registers at all, let alone the reasonably intense coating of savoury red fruit and spicy oak this wine actually delivers. Things really start to get interesting through the after palate, where the wine's structure opens out and promises even more flavoursome times ahead. It's only getting better as the evening wears on, with additional, deeper registers starting to emerge. It's not the most complex wine I've ever tasted, but the flavour profile is so characterful, you can forgive it for being a little straightforward.
I'm betting some short to medium term cellaring (say, 2-5 years) will do some cool things to this wine. At the moment, it is drinking relatively well but its youthful restraint may prove a little frustrating too.
Update: I gave this wine a night to think about what it had done. It's quite transformed, with a lot less bright fruit and a lot more layered complexity. It is, dare I say it, becoming somewhat Burgundian in flavour profile. Nice drop.
William Downie
Price: $A40
Closure: Diam
Date tasted: June 2008
The packaging is so seductive and promises such satisfaction, it comes as a (perhaps unreasonable) surprise to find the wine inside isn't quite so easy. For starters, there's a powerfully feral pong that emerges from the glass at first. It's not quite stalk, and not quite oaked spice, but exists somewhere in between, sitting somewhat lumpily atop bright, fresh strawberry/cherry fruit. As someone who likes a bit of pong in his Pinot, I enjoy this flavour profile, but it's an intellectual experience. With about half an hour of swirling, the feral-ness has integrated nicely into the underlying fruit, becoming an extra layer of complexity rather than a disjointed, if characterful, sore thumb.
The palate confirms the light, bright nature of this wine's flavour profile, and introduces the assertive acid that provides such restraint and definition. It's all sunshine and light on entry, the acid creating a vivid, fresh impression and the fruit backing this up with bright red, high toned flavour. This wine is a lesson in how impact can be completely different from weight, how intensity is not the same as density. It's so fleet on the palate, one is surprised any flavour registers at all, let alone the reasonably intense coating of savoury red fruit and spicy oak this wine actually delivers. Things really start to get interesting through the after palate, where the wine's structure opens out and promises even more flavoursome times ahead. It's only getting better as the evening wears on, with additional, deeper registers starting to emerge. It's not the most complex wine I've ever tasted, but the flavour profile is so characterful, you can forgive it for being a little straightforward.
I'm betting some short to medium term cellaring (say, 2-5 years) will do some cool things to this wine. At the moment, it is drinking relatively well but its youthful restraint may prove a little frustrating too.
Update: I gave this wine a night to think about what it had done. It's quite transformed, with a lot less bright fruit and a lot more layered complexity. It is, dare I say it, becoming somewhat Burgundian in flavour profile. Nice drop.
William Downie
Price: $A40
Closure: Diam
Date tasted: June 2008
Once again, I feel compelled to briefly note some of the other wines I've opened recently; these aren't full tasting notes, but rather quick impressions of things that are currently ensconced in my recycling bin. Bear with me...
Monte Xanic Cabernet Merlot 2004: One of Mexico's top wines, this is grown and produced in the Valle de Guadalupe, which is only an hour south of my home here in San Diego. The label says 13.5% alcohol, and the winemaking bears out the suspicion that this is a wine entirely in the Old World tradition. Not especially cheap at US $25 a bottle, this wine was made in a lovely, traditionally French style, with expensive and elaborate oak supporting the very fine fruit. This is a fantastic bottle of wine if you like your wines in the Old World mode: it's very full bodied in the mouth, and it's entirely due to supporting oak, not primary fruit. Delicious and a nice change from the usual North American suspects.
Ridge late harvest Zinfandel, likely from 2003: This was an ATP selection that I opened after a late night dinner with friends at The Linkery in San Diego. Ridge don't produce a lot of these late harvest Zins these days, but I'm a fan. Yes, they're ridiculously alcoholic at 16% and up, but this is a classic California style that's been decidedly naff since the early 1980s, and I'm glad someone is keeping the tradition alive. Sure, it's huge, alcoholic, a little porty, and not well balanced in the traditional sense... but it's also delicious, exhilarating, uniquely Californian, and arguably in a style that lives on today through Robert Parker's high scoring of behemoth Aussie shiraz from the Barossa and elsewhere. If you buy this, share it with friends and don't plan on driving anywhere - and prepare yourself for a uniquely Californian experience.
Clonakilla Hilltops Shiraz, 2002: This demanded decanting; even with air, this was a massive, feral syrah that displayed an earthiness you don't normally see in wines from outside the Rhône Valley. This is drinking really well right now - if you have some, I'd consider opening it sooner rather than later as I can't imagine it getting any better than it is at the moment. Soil, minerals, dirt, earth, funk, and none of the 'raspberry motor oil' character typically associated with Australian wines.
Hamilton Russell Pinot Noir, 2006: Served at cellar temperature, I was disappointed by this wine at first. Although I'd had some at the winery two years ago, this seemed a little reedy, a little too trebly, and altogether wan and uninspiring. However, as it warmed up, it improved somewhat... but was still lacking somehow. If you're going to go there, I'd consider looking for Bouchard-Finlayson wines first, or perhaps a different vintage of Hamilton Russell. Even so, it's better than many disappointing wines in this price range (about US $25).
Gallo of Sonoma Cabernet Sauvignon, Frei Vineyard, 1996: Dead on arrival. Sugar water that smells like it might have been wine at some point. Delicious two years ago, but it's dead, Jim. Avoid.
Robert Mondavi Cabernet Sauvignon, 2002: Tim Mondavi's signature is all over this wine, both literally and metaphorically. This was an oak-driven, restrained, Old World style wine, which seems (especially in retrospect) a stylistic misfire on the part of the Mondavis. Mad props to Tim and family, however, for sticking to their guns and producing it. No, it's not what any consumer would expect from a California cabernet, but it is nevertheless a delicious drink and an interesting stylistic experiment. This sort of thing works better with family or cult wineries, though - think Wendouree or Rockford - and not at all well with huge corporate wineries. Truly sad to see the Mondavi family dynasty going out on this note: a good, delicious wine in the finest European tradition utterly lost on a wine-buying public that just didn't get why it tastes like this.
Monte Xanic Cabernet Merlot 2004: One of Mexico's top wines, this is grown and produced in the Valle de Guadalupe, which is only an hour south of my home here in San Diego. The label says 13.5% alcohol, and the winemaking bears out the suspicion that this is a wine entirely in the Old World tradition. Not especially cheap at US $25 a bottle, this wine was made in a lovely, traditionally French style, with expensive and elaborate oak supporting the very fine fruit. This is a fantastic bottle of wine if you like your wines in the Old World mode: it's very full bodied in the mouth, and it's entirely due to supporting oak, not primary fruit. Delicious and a nice change from the usual North American suspects.
Ridge late harvest Zinfandel, likely from 2003: This was an ATP selection that I opened after a late night dinner with friends at The Linkery in San Diego. Ridge don't produce a lot of these late harvest Zins these days, but I'm a fan. Yes, they're ridiculously alcoholic at 16% and up, but this is a classic California style that's been decidedly naff since the early 1980s, and I'm glad someone is keeping the tradition alive. Sure, it's huge, alcoholic, a little porty, and not well balanced in the traditional sense... but it's also delicious, exhilarating, uniquely Californian, and arguably in a style that lives on today through Robert Parker's high scoring of behemoth Aussie shiraz from the Barossa and elsewhere. If you buy this, share it with friends and don't plan on driving anywhere - and prepare yourself for a uniquely Californian experience.
Clonakilla Hilltops Shiraz, 2002: This demanded decanting; even with air, this was a massive, feral syrah that displayed an earthiness you don't normally see in wines from outside the Rhône Valley. This is drinking really well right now - if you have some, I'd consider opening it sooner rather than later as I can't imagine it getting any better than it is at the moment. Soil, minerals, dirt, earth, funk, and none of the 'raspberry motor oil' character typically associated with Australian wines.
Hamilton Russell Pinot Noir, 2006: Served at cellar temperature, I was disappointed by this wine at first. Although I'd had some at the winery two years ago, this seemed a little reedy, a little too trebly, and altogether wan and uninspiring. However, as it warmed up, it improved somewhat... but was still lacking somehow. If you're going to go there, I'd consider looking for Bouchard-Finlayson wines first, or perhaps a different vintage of Hamilton Russell. Even so, it's better than many disappointing wines in this price range (about US $25).
Gallo of Sonoma Cabernet Sauvignon, Frei Vineyard, 1996: Dead on arrival. Sugar water that smells like it might have been wine at some point. Delicious two years ago, but it's dead, Jim. Avoid.
Robert Mondavi Cabernet Sauvignon, 2002: Tim Mondavi's signature is all over this wine, both literally and metaphorically. This was an oak-driven, restrained, Old World style wine, which seems (especially in retrospect) a stylistic misfire on the part of the Mondavis. Mad props to Tim and family, however, for sticking to their guns and producing it. No, it's not what any consumer would expect from a California cabernet, but it is nevertheless a delicious drink and an interesting stylistic experiment. This sort of thing works better with family or cult wineries, though - think Wendouree or Rockford - and not at all well with huge corporate wineries. Truly sad to see the Mondavi family dynasty going out on this note: a good, delicious wine in the finest European tradition utterly lost on a wine-buying public that just didn't get why it tastes like this.
This wine has traveled an awfully long way to my table here in San Diego: it's from South Australia originally, was apparently imported to Germany at some point (the label says "Wein aus Australien" after all), wound up in a Chicago auction house, and now here it is, suddenly making my table look more sophisticated than it has any right to be. (I hid the carry-out pizza box outside just to make sure.)
This is obviously a full mature wine: the nose has more to do with shoyu than grapes at this point, suggesting dusky vats, umeboshi, and dried cuttlefish (which, by the way, don't really smell of fish, but rather of salt). There's also a seductive aroma of dried cranberries, strawberry fruit leather, and freshly cut cedar. It's decidedly strange - and yet appealing.
The wine has all held together fairly well; it's probably slightly past its peak at this point, but you do get more than sweet liquid and smoke, which is a relief. There's a hint of musky, minty berry, a somewhat tired aged note, hints of charred coffee, and then it slinks away under the cover of darkness, leaving only a very slightly off note of sweet old wine. Tannins are still present, doing their best to support the fading fruit; it's so very close to being a good older wine, at yet it's not, not really.
[By the way, please accept my apologies for labeling this Meritage. It isn't, at least not technically, but it is a Bordeaux style wine: mostly cabernet (sauvignon and franc) with 5% merlot.]
On second thought, this wine is likely displaying low level TCA contamination, unfortunately - it's at that subliminal level where all it does is mask the true character and quality of the wine, I think. It isn't immediately obvious, but it is, I believe, causing the strange muted character on the finish more than any other explanation of which I can conceive.
Good on Jeffrey Grosset for moving to screwcaps - this shouldn't happen with newer vintages.
Grosset
Price: US $30ish
Closure: Cork
Date tasted: June 2008
This is obviously a full mature wine: the nose has more to do with shoyu than grapes at this point, suggesting dusky vats, umeboshi, and dried cuttlefish (which, by the way, don't really smell of fish, but rather of salt). There's also a seductive aroma of dried cranberries, strawberry fruit leather, and freshly cut cedar. It's decidedly strange - and yet appealing.
The wine has all held together fairly well; it's probably slightly past its peak at this point, but you do get more than sweet liquid and smoke, which is a relief. There's a hint of musky, minty berry, a somewhat tired aged note, hints of charred coffee, and then it slinks away under the cover of darkness, leaving only a very slightly off note of sweet old wine. Tannins are still present, doing their best to support the fading fruit; it's so very close to being a good older wine, at yet it's not, not really.
[By the way, please accept my apologies for labeling this Meritage. It isn't, at least not technically, but it is a Bordeaux style wine: mostly cabernet (sauvignon and franc) with 5% merlot.]
On second thought, this wine is likely displaying low level TCA contamination, unfortunately - it's at that subliminal level where all it does is mask the true character and quality of the wine, I think. It isn't immediately obvious, but it is, I believe, causing the strange muted character on the finish more than any other explanation of which I can conceive.
Good on Jeffrey Grosset for moving to screwcaps - this shouldn't happen with newer vintages.
Grosset
Price: US $30ish
Closure: Cork
Date tasted: June 2008
Having spent four years of my life in Washington state - and three months of that getting a Wine Trade Professional certificate at Central Washington University - I believe that I was finally able to get a sense of what Washington wines are like.
Although the terroir of the place is dodgy - the Missoula floods pretty much guaranteed that there isn't very much of interest going on there, at least in terms of soils - there's something about the climate that seems to determine a very specific style. Washington is a far bigger state than Seattle and the Puget Sound; yes, Seattle is cold and rainy much of the time (heck, even Dan Savage is starting to complain about the lack of a summer so far this year), but once you cross the Cascades towards Yakima, Red Mountain, and Walla Walla, things change dramatically. Although the winters are cold enough to cause serious damage to grapevines every decade or so, the summers are plenty warm - and balanced out by some seriously cool nighttime temperatures.
There's a certain treble-ness to a lot of Washington wines; the cool nights seem to imbue them with a nervy, electric energy that is a wonderful complement to the dark, ripe character of the fruit. Thanks to the economic boom of the 1990s - and, in Washington at least, the continued good times of the early 2000s (due in large part to corporations such as Starbucks, Amazon.com, and Microsoft), there's been a massive explosion in the number of wineries up there, many of them family farms trying to cash in on the huge upturn in Washington's wine quality by making their own wine instead of selling to huge corporations such as Chateau Ste. Michelle.
I ventured out to Walla Walla for their annual barrel tasting weekend twice: both times, I marveled at ad hoc helicopter landing pads set up for wealthy tourists from the Puget Sound, just-opened wineries done up in a fake Tuscan style, complete with $75 syrah from two-year old vines. I also basked in the hospitality of some old-time Walla Wallans (thanks again, Brian!) who took pride in the simple fact that some of the local wineries had been there for some time and didn't charge ridiculous sums of money for some very impressive wines (the Glen Fiona syrahs from the late 1990s come to mind).
Anyhow: the first thing that sprang to mind upon smelling this wine was whoa, this couldn't be from anywhere other than Washington - and it smells like a small family operation on one of their first vintages. There's a certain smell here that gives it away - it smells like immaculately grown fruit combined with good quality barrels and perhaps a certain amount of what, for a lack of a better word, I'll call manipulation. Mind you, this isn't necessarily a bad thing; it's just that some wines smell as if they were effortlessly made directly from the soil of the vineyard (cf. Clonakilla, Ridge, Vieux-Telegraphe, others). This doesn't.
Instead, it's got a kind of bacon bits aroma to it, combined with sweet oak of some kind; it also has the same, high-toned note to it you'd expect from a quality Washington wine. It also has a very ripe, jammy, Red Vines-esque heft to it that is rather more appealing than I'm describing it, I assure you.
It's agreeably balanced in the mouth, with steely acidity, good, ripe fruit, and a surprising hint of mintiness or eucalyptus there as well. Oddly enough, it seems like it could also work as a chewing gum flavor for adults - something in the clove gum mold of the 1940s. Tannins are moderate and unintrusive, the finish is pleasant if a touch short, and overall it's, alas, nothing special, really. Still, that isn't to say it's a bad bottle of wine - far from it. What you're getting here is - in my opinion at least - typicité, Walla Walla style, and at a much fairer price than most of 'em.
Lowden Hills
Price: US $24
Closure: Cork
Date tasted: June 2008
Although the terroir of the place is dodgy - the Missoula floods pretty much guaranteed that there isn't very much of interest going on there, at least in terms of soils - there's something about the climate that seems to determine a very specific style. Washington is a far bigger state than Seattle and the Puget Sound; yes, Seattle is cold and rainy much of the time (heck, even Dan Savage is starting to complain about the lack of a summer so far this year), but once you cross the Cascades towards Yakima, Red Mountain, and Walla Walla, things change dramatically. Although the winters are cold enough to cause serious damage to grapevines every decade or so, the summers are plenty warm - and balanced out by some seriously cool nighttime temperatures.
There's a certain treble-ness to a lot of Washington wines; the cool nights seem to imbue them with a nervy, electric energy that is a wonderful complement to the dark, ripe character of the fruit. Thanks to the economic boom of the 1990s - and, in Washington at least, the continued good times of the early 2000s (due in large part to corporations such as Starbucks, Amazon.com, and Microsoft), there's been a massive explosion in the number of wineries up there, many of them family farms trying to cash in on the huge upturn in Washington's wine quality by making their own wine instead of selling to huge corporations such as Chateau Ste. Michelle.
I ventured out to Walla Walla for their annual barrel tasting weekend twice: both times, I marveled at ad hoc helicopter landing pads set up for wealthy tourists from the Puget Sound, just-opened wineries done up in a fake Tuscan style, complete with $75 syrah from two-year old vines. I also basked in the hospitality of some old-time Walla Wallans (thanks again, Brian!) who took pride in the simple fact that some of the local wineries had been there for some time and didn't charge ridiculous sums of money for some very impressive wines (the Glen Fiona syrahs from the late 1990s come to mind).
Anyhow: the first thing that sprang to mind upon smelling this wine was whoa, this couldn't be from anywhere other than Washington - and it smells like a small family operation on one of their first vintages. There's a certain smell here that gives it away - it smells like immaculately grown fruit combined with good quality barrels and perhaps a certain amount of what, for a lack of a better word, I'll call manipulation. Mind you, this isn't necessarily a bad thing; it's just that some wines smell as if they were effortlessly made directly from the soil of the vineyard (cf. Clonakilla, Ridge, Vieux-Telegraphe, others). This doesn't.
Instead, it's got a kind of bacon bits aroma to it, combined with sweet oak of some kind; it also has the same, high-toned note to it you'd expect from a quality Washington wine. It also has a very ripe, jammy, Red Vines-esque heft to it that is rather more appealing than I'm describing it, I assure you.
It's agreeably balanced in the mouth, with steely acidity, good, ripe fruit, and a surprising hint of mintiness or eucalyptus there as well. Oddly enough, it seems like it could also work as a chewing gum flavor for adults - something in the clove gum mold of the 1940s. Tannins are moderate and unintrusive, the finish is pleasant if a touch short, and overall it's, alas, nothing special, really. Still, that isn't to say it's a bad bottle of wine - far from it. What you're getting here is - in my opinion at least - typicité, Walla Walla style, and at a much fairer price than most of 'em.
Lowden Hills
Price: US $24
Closure: Cork
Date tasted: June 2008
I can't remember why I decided to buy at least four bottles of this and place them in the cellar. It must have shown promise on release. Either that, or I found it at a ridiculously low price and made an impulse purchase. It's been known to happen. Anyway, here we are eight years later and I think it's time I checked on its progress.
Still relatively pale in colour, showing hints of richer hay in amongst the fresh green hues. Mercifully, not corked. Subtle aromas of sharp citrus with a touch of the aged honey character that one anticipates in an aged Hunter Semillon. But it's hardly a full-blown aged aroma profile. The palate is disappointingly dilute, and I don't know whether the wine is going through a "phase," or if it lacks sufficient intensity of flavour to become a satisfying mature style. Entry shows remnants of the spritzy acidity of a young Hunter Semillon, but this quickly trails off to a smoother, slightly waxy mouthfeel. Again, there are hints of the aged flavour profile; honey, lanolin, beeswax, etc; but there's also easygoing citrus attributable to an easygoing youth. It's all attractive enough, but somehow watery too, and I found myself reaching for flavour but never getting enough to feel satisfied.
I'm not sure if I'll bother leaving the rest of the stash to mature further. Well, maybe one as an experiment. The rest, I'll drink soonish and enjoy what is an easy quaffing style that doesn't ask a lot of the drinker (and doesn't give too much in return).
Brokenwood
Price: $A20ish
Closure: Cork
Date tasted: June 2008
Still relatively pale in colour, showing hints of richer hay in amongst the fresh green hues. Mercifully, not corked. Subtle aromas of sharp citrus with a touch of the aged honey character that one anticipates in an aged Hunter Semillon. But it's hardly a full-blown aged aroma profile. The palate is disappointingly dilute, and I don't know whether the wine is going through a "phase," or if it lacks sufficient intensity of flavour to become a satisfying mature style. Entry shows remnants of the spritzy acidity of a young Hunter Semillon, but this quickly trails off to a smoother, slightly waxy mouthfeel. Again, there are hints of the aged flavour profile; honey, lanolin, beeswax, etc; but there's also easygoing citrus attributable to an easygoing youth. It's all attractive enough, but somehow watery too, and I found myself reaching for flavour but never getting enough to feel satisfied.
I'm not sure if I'll bother leaving the rest of the stash to mature further. Well, maybe one as an experiment. The rest, I'll drink soonish and enjoy what is an easy quaffing style that doesn't ask a lot of the drinker (and doesn't give too much in return).
Brokenwood
Price: $A20ish
Closure: Cork
Date tasted: June 2008
Juicy Fruit esters spurt from the glass at first, with white stone fruit and a hint of cream. Squeaky clean, very fresh, floral and powdery in character. With some enthusiastic swirling, astringent herbal aromas also start to emerge, adding complexity and edge. It's evolving quickly in the glass, which makes for an interesting companion if sipped slowly through the evening. Am I detecting the slightest hint of honey, even? Wishful thinking, perhaps.
Flavoursome entry; fruit registers early in the wine's line. Acidity is prominent and a little rough and ready, adding a rustic sourness to the flavour profile. Fruit continues in a white stone fruit vein, but with the addition of lemon-like citrus flavours that recall young Hunter Semillon. It's quite intense and extremely lively on the tongue; we're a long way from flabby New World Chardonnay of years past. Firm, defined thrust through the after palate as the acid carries increasingly citrus-like fruit flavour through to the finish. There's a little lift, or perhaps even some alcohol heat on the finish, and the wine's density does fall away somewhat precipitously towards the end of its line. But the finish is long and tasty and only promises good things.
Yummy wine. This lacks the extra complexity of a really top Vat 47, but is nonetheless a delicious drink and one with a promising future over the mid-term. I'm betting this will be great with fish and chips. An iconic Aussie Chardonnay for the price of lesser village-level white Burgundy or generic Bourgogne.
Tyrrell's
Price: $A35
Closure: Stelvin
Date tasted: June 2008
Flavoursome entry; fruit registers early in the wine's line. Acidity is prominent and a little rough and ready, adding a rustic sourness to the flavour profile. Fruit continues in a white stone fruit vein, but with the addition of lemon-like citrus flavours that recall young Hunter Semillon. It's quite intense and extremely lively on the tongue; we're a long way from flabby New World Chardonnay of years past. Firm, defined thrust through the after palate as the acid carries increasingly citrus-like fruit flavour through to the finish. There's a little lift, or perhaps even some alcohol heat on the finish, and the wine's density does fall away somewhat precipitously towards the end of its line. But the finish is long and tasty and only promises good things.
Yummy wine. This lacks the extra complexity of a really top Vat 47, but is nonetheless a delicious drink and one with a promising future over the mid-term. I'm betting this will be great with fish and chips. An iconic Aussie Chardonnay for the price of lesser village-level white Burgundy or generic Bourgogne.
Tyrrell's
Price: $A35
Closure: Stelvin
Date tasted: June 2008
Right off the bat you're in decidedly Australian territory with this wine: it smells rich, tending towards blackstrap molasses and other guilty pleasures. Decidedly spicy, presumably thanks to new oak influence, there's also a hint of mintiness here as well as well as violet pastilles and crusty brown bread.
Almost overwhelmingly fat in the mouth, there's somewhat unintegrated acidity lurking in there as well, which clear the wine off of my palate abruptly; this is salved, however, the finish, which is long, gentle, and almost like Mexican chocolate: it's spicy, smooth, and almost floral.
There's a distinctively jammy Australian berry fruit component here as well, but it seems to be overwhelmed somewhat by the oak. Tannins are fairly soft at this point, and the wine doesn't appear to be showing any aged characteristics; this is a solid wine that more or less defines what consumers have come to expect from an Australian wine at this price point, I suppose. It's all perfectly good but ultimately lacking on some level; even though it's labeled Coonawarra, it really tastes more like it could be from anywhere, especially compared to Leconfield or Yalumba wines from the same region.
The acidity worries me, though - it seems really out of place here. I'm probably wrong, but I suspect some kind of acid adjustment gone ever so slightly wrong.
Penfolds
Price: US $17.99
Closure: Cork
Date tasted: June 2008
Almost overwhelmingly fat in the mouth, there's somewhat unintegrated acidity lurking in there as well, which clear the wine off of my palate abruptly; this is salved, however, the finish, which is long, gentle, and almost like Mexican chocolate: it's spicy, smooth, and almost floral.
There's a distinctively jammy Australian berry fruit component here as well, but it seems to be overwhelmed somewhat by the oak. Tannins are fairly soft at this point, and the wine doesn't appear to be showing any aged characteristics; this is a solid wine that more or less defines what consumers have come to expect from an Australian wine at this price point, I suppose. It's all perfectly good but ultimately lacking on some level; even though it's labeled Coonawarra, it really tastes more like it could be from anywhere, especially compared to Leconfield or Yalumba wines from the same region.
The acidity worries me, though - it seems really out of place here. I'm probably wrong, but I suspect some kind of acid adjustment gone ever so slightly wrong.
Penfolds
Price: US $17.99
Closure: Cork
Date tasted: June 2008
Made in small quantities, the Lake's Folly white wine is a Chardonnay benchmark of sorts in Australia, albeit one that seems to be labelled "old fashioned" whenever it is mentioned. As a firm believer in the transcendence of style over fashion, I don't see this as necessarily a bad thing. What I'm more interested in, after tasting my way through a few white Burgundies of similar price, is how this wine stacks up stylistically and in terms of value.
Quite a rich, golden green colour. The nose shows a controlled burst of flavour, from pure fruit notes to those rooted firmly in winemaking. Rich oatmeal and cream mixes with round yet fresh Chardonnay fruit. The fruit here is a mix of yellow stonefruit and citrus, and to me smells brilliantly judged in terms of complexity and balance. Despite all the notes on offer, the whole is restrained, keeping its reserves of depth and power in check. The palate shows excellent continuity from the nose in terms of overall flavour profile. A fine acid backbone carries intense, tasty fruit down well defined, yet large scale, structure. By that I mean that it's not a wine that shoots down the middle of the tongue in a narrow line. Rather, it spreads across the tongue but always maintains poise and flow, never lapsing into laziness. More stone and citrus fruit, spice and creaminess, even some tasty minerality, all the elements tipped towards generosity, again in the context of a clear acid structure. The after palate tapers off quite steeply into a cut apple note, before a subtle acid-driven finish of excellent length.
A contradictory wine at this stage of its life, as the flavour profile suggests a generous, flavoursome wine, but (thanks to the acid) one that isn't able to fully express itself. All it needs is some time to relax. It is, perhaps unsurprisingly, an utterly different style from any of the white Burgundies tasted of late, although I should note that I've hardly sampled a complete cross section. Not an inexpensive wine; however, placed in this context, I think the Lake's Folly Chardonnay represents excellent value.
Lake's Folly
Price: $A50
Closure: Cork
Date tasted: June 2008
Quite a rich, golden green colour. The nose shows a controlled burst of flavour, from pure fruit notes to those rooted firmly in winemaking. Rich oatmeal and cream mixes with round yet fresh Chardonnay fruit. The fruit here is a mix of yellow stonefruit and citrus, and to me smells brilliantly judged in terms of complexity and balance. Despite all the notes on offer, the whole is restrained, keeping its reserves of depth and power in check. The palate shows excellent continuity from the nose in terms of overall flavour profile. A fine acid backbone carries intense, tasty fruit down well defined, yet large scale, structure. By that I mean that it's not a wine that shoots down the middle of the tongue in a narrow line. Rather, it spreads across the tongue but always maintains poise and flow, never lapsing into laziness. More stone and citrus fruit, spice and creaminess, even some tasty minerality, all the elements tipped towards generosity, again in the context of a clear acid structure. The after palate tapers off quite steeply into a cut apple note, before a subtle acid-driven finish of excellent length.
A contradictory wine at this stage of its life, as the flavour profile suggests a generous, flavoursome wine, but (thanks to the acid) one that isn't able to fully express itself. All it needs is some time to relax. It is, perhaps unsurprisingly, an utterly different style from any of the white Burgundies tasted of late, although I should note that I've hardly sampled a complete cross section. Not an inexpensive wine; however, placed in this context, I think the Lake's Folly Chardonnay represents excellent value.
Lake's Folly
Price: $A50
Closure: Cork
Date tasted: June 2008
It's interesting to compare wines from a producer that offers just two in its portfolio. Collector, a new Canberra-based producer, sells a lower price Marked Tree Shiraz, and this, its Reserve label. Both are made from Canberra region Shiraz grapes, which makes the comparison doubly interesting.
A heady nose of roast meats, vanilla, spice and rich red and black fruit, and of all things a bit of Yorkshire pudding. Showing a clear resemblance to the Marked Tree wine, this is a whole lot more of everything except perhaps a certain lightness of touch. But this is a Reserve level wine, presumably designed for extra oomph, and it attains this goal admirably.
Deep fruit flavours gush over the tongue on entry, and it's the sort of cool, firm attack that marks wines of sufficient padding. Despite the rush of flavour, though, this isn't a large scale or clumsy style. By contrast, there's real balance here, with each element asserting itself just enough to be perceived before retreating into the complex harmonic flow. This wine has the sort of flavour profile that would be considered lolly-like if it were sweeter; that it shows only a touch of sucrosité means the fruit is beguiling and even a little elusive in character, despite its generosity. A lovely blanket of fine, slightly sandy tannins descends on the tongue as the after palate kicks in; they're ripe and not especially drying, and so contribute primarily to the wine's textural dimension. Despite the tannins, I wouldn't describe the wine as overly structured -- acid is not a feature. The finish morphs into a sort of raspberry liqueur-like note crossed with licorice that is utterly delicious.
Interestingly, food (well, the lamb chops I'm having tonight) dulls the wine and hollows out the after palate somewhat. I attribute this to the relatively subtle acidity. So, pair this wine wisely with food, or go the total alco route and drink it unaccompanied.
Collector Wines
Price: $A46
Closure: Stelvin
Date tasted: June 2008
A heady nose of roast meats, vanilla, spice and rich red and black fruit, and of all things a bit of Yorkshire pudding. Showing a clear resemblance to the Marked Tree wine, this is a whole lot more of everything except perhaps a certain lightness of touch. But this is a Reserve level wine, presumably designed for extra oomph, and it attains this goal admirably.
Deep fruit flavours gush over the tongue on entry, and it's the sort of cool, firm attack that marks wines of sufficient padding. Despite the rush of flavour, though, this isn't a large scale or clumsy style. By contrast, there's real balance here, with each element asserting itself just enough to be perceived before retreating into the complex harmonic flow. This wine has the sort of flavour profile that would be considered lolly-like if it were sweeter; that it shows only a touch of sucrosité means the fruit is beguiling and even a little elusive in character, despite its generosity. A lovely blanket of fine, slightly sandy tannins descends on the tongue as the after palate kicks in; they're ripe and not especially drying, and so contribute primarily to the wine's textural dimension. Despite the tannins, I wouldn't describe the wine as overly structured -- acid is not a feature. The finish morphs into a sort of raspberry liqueur-like note crossed with licorice that is utterly delicious.
Interestingly, food (well, the lamb chops I'm having tonight) dulls the wine and hollows out the after palate somewhat. I attribute this to the relatively subtle acidity. So, pair this wine wisely with food, or go the total alco route and drink it unaccompanied.
Collector Wines
Price: $A46
Closure: Stelvin
Date tasted: June 2008
Around six and a half years ago, I was preparing to leave for Australia. Me, I'm Californian, but I'd always wanted to visit; after many years of planning and saving, my partner and I decided to leave for Sydney in February 2001.
A few weeks before we did, I met Julian for the first time: we had mutual friends in Sydney, and it was clear that we were both, well, obsessed with wine to a certain extent. I brought a couple of bottles of wine to Australia with me - Bonny Doon pinot gris, I believe - but schedules didn't work out and we didn't get a chance to meet in person, unfortunately.
Six weeks later, I found myself in Melbourne. I'd already begun having a look around Australia's wine regions - most memorable were Moorilla Estate (for verging on the ludicrous - think tacky art museum with an utterly trashed tasting room with no actual wine available to taste) as well as Golders Vineyard (probably the first pinot noir I'd ever had that verged on the transcendent). In the meantime, I'd arranged to get together with Julian the next week in Sydney, but of course I wanted to find some wine from my home state. You know, the usual home town pride, nothing special.
According to Bonny Doon's importer, there was one small shop in Melbourne that carried Le Cigare Volant, which was just about the only Californian wine I was able to find in town. Strangely enough, a wine sales rep noticed I was buying it and started to gossip about how Bonny Doon winemaker Randall Grahm had just been in town for some kind of international Shiraz symposium. He'd basically trashed the entire Australian wine industry for producing nothing but "raspberry motor oil" - but did concede that there was one winery in the entire country worth its while: Clonakilla.
As luck would have it, Clonakilla isn't far from the Hume Highway (that's the road from Melbourne to Sydney for your Americans). It's just a short detour of about half an hour and besides, I'd never really seen Canberra.
I made the detour.
An hour later, I realized that I'd probably just had one of the key experiences of my life. Clonakilla winemaker Tim Kirk heard our ridiculous Californian accents in their small tasting room and decided to come check it out; we wound up being invited to taste barrel samples, which had never happened before. I was incredibly grateful and embarrassed, really - it's unusual for anyone to be that generous in my personal cultural experience, so I didn't know how to comport myself. To thank Tim, I gave him the bottle of Le Cigare Volant that I'd bought in Melbourne; he gave me a bottle of port in return.
The next morning, after breakfast, I bought the most expensive bottle of wine I'd ever bought in my life: a bottle of the Clonakilla shiraz viognier. It had been sold out at the winery, but one shop in Clonakilla still had some. It cost me US $28, which was unspeakably expensive. (It now sells for US $65, assuming anyone has any in stock, just six years later). Julian and I drank that bottle together; it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship (what can I say? As a Californian, I'm prone to inane movie quotes from time to time).
Today's a typical San Diego June day. It's cool, mostly sunny. I headed into our tiny 1940s garage and grabbed the first thing I could find, and it was a Clonakilla wine. If there was ever proof that a winery's generosity to a total stranger can pay dividends, it's the simple fact that I've been a loyal customer ever since.
In the glass, the wine is behaving French, not Australian. There are tiny particles clinging to the side of the glass; the color is noticeably young - surprising for a five year old wine - all crimson blacks and vibrancy. The nose is unspeakable; by that I meant that it shuts even the most loquacious wino up faster than anything short of La Tâche. It could be meatloaf. It could be an old leather bound book that fell behind your carrel in the library basement. It could be sheets that have been in the closet too long. It could be fresh blackberry jam with demerara sugar. It could be any number of things. It is, at any rate, fascinating.
It appears to be a very young wine at times; at other times, aged notes sneak in. They don't detract from the wine, not at all; instead, they serve as a gentle reminder that this wine, too, will fade at one point, so you'd best drink it now. There's bright acidity, yet not too much; the initial attack fades quickly and you're left with a sweetness supported by nicely resolved tannins, a certain smoothness, and a gentle finish that reminds me of croutons and pancetta. At other times, there are decidedly smoky notes, bacon fat, water crackers, and possibly even something like roses. I'll stop now; I'm sure you get the drift.
In my room, it's 2002 again and I'm standing outside in the Australian sun wondering how the hell this stuff exists. It's a religious moment as I'll ever have. I'm grateful to have a glass of this in front of me, I really am.
Clonakilla
Price: US $17.99
Closure: Cork
Date tasted: June 2008
A few weeks before we did, I met Julian for the first time: we had mutual friends in Sydney, and it was clear that we were both, well, obsessed with wine to a certain extent. I brought a couple of bottles of wine to Australia with me - Bonny Doon pinot gris, I believe - but schedules didn't work out and we didn't get a chance to meet in person, unfortunately.
Six weeks later, I found myself in Melbourne. I'd already begun having a look around Australia's wine regions - most memorable were Moorilla Estate (for verging on the ludicrous - think tacky art museum with an utterly trashed tasting room with no actual wine available to taste) as well as Golders Vineyard (probably the first pinot noir I'd ever had that verged on the transcendent). In the meantime, I'd arranged to get together with Julian the next week in Sydney, but of course I wanted to find some wine from my home state. You know, the usual home town pride, nothing special.
According to Bonny Doon's importer, there was one small shop in Melbourne that carried Le Cigare Volant, which was just about the only Californian wine I was able to find in town. Strangely enough, a wine sales rep noticed I was buying it and started to gossip about how Bonny Doon winemaker Randall Grahm had just been in town for some kind of international Shiraz symposium. He'd basically trashed the entire Australian wine industry for producing nothing but "raspberry motor oil" - but did concede that there was one winery in the entire country worth its while: Clonakilla.
As luck would have it, Clonakilla isn't far from the Hume Highway (that's the road from Melbourne to Sydney for your Americans). It's just a short detour of about half an hour and besides, I'd never really seen Canberra.
I made the detour.
An hour later, I realized that I'd probably just had one of the key experiences of my life. Clonakilla winemaker Tim Kirk heard our ridiculous Californian accents in their small tasting room and decided to come check it out; we wound up being invited to taste barrel samples, which had never happened before. I was incredibly grateful and embarrassed, really - it's unusual for anyone to be that generous in my personal cultural experience, so I didn't know how to comport myself. To thank Tim, I gave him the bottle of Le Cigare Volant that I'd bought in Melbourne; he gave me a bottle of port in return.
The next morning, after breakfast, I bought the most expensive bottle of wine I'd ever bought in my life: a bottle of the Clonakilla shiraz viognier. It had been sold out at the winery, but one shop in Clonakilla still had some. It cost me US $28, which was unspeakably expensive. (It now sells for US $65, assuming anyone has any in stock, just six years later). Julian and I drank that bottle together; it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship (what can I say? As a Californian, I'm prone to inane movie quotes from time to time).
Today's a typical San Diego June day. It's cool, mostly sunny. I headed into our tiny 1940s garage and grabbed the first thing I could find, and it was a Clonakilla wine. If there was ever proof that a winery's generosity to a total stranger can pay dividends, it's the simple fact that I've been a loyal customer ever since.
In the glass, the wine is behaving French, not Australian. There are tiny particles clinging to the side of the glass; the color is noticeably young - surprising for a five year old wine - all crimson blacks and vibrancy. The nose is unspeakable; by that I meant that it shuts even the most loquacious wino up faster than anything short of La Tâche. It could be meatloaf. It could be an old leather bound book that fell behind your carrel in the library basement. It could be sheets that have been in the closet too long. It could be fresh blackberry jam with demerara sugar. It could be any number of things. It is, at any rate, fascinating.
It appears to be a very young wine at times; at other times, aged notes sneak in. They don't detract from the wine, not at all; instead, they serve as a gentle reminder that this wine, too, will fade at one point, so you'd best drink it now. There's bright acidity, yet not too much; the initial attack fades quickly and you're left with a sweetness supported by nicely resolved tannins, a certain smoothness, and a gentle finish that reminds me of croutons and pancetta. At other times, there are decidedly smoky notes, bacon fat, water crackers, and possibly even something like roses. I'll stop now; I'm sure you get the drift.
In my room, it's 2002 again and I'm standing outside in the Australian sun wondering how the hell this stuff exists. It's a religious moment as I'll ever have. I'm grateful to have a glass of this in front of me, I really am.
Clonakilla
Price: US $17.99
Closure: Cork
Date tasted: June 2008
Such is the allure of the great vineyards of Burgundy that those sites with any connection, however tenuous, to vines of renown are almost relentlessly flogged as such. Who am I to buck the trend? En Remilly, the source of this wine, is usually mentioned in the same breath as Le Montrachet, as it is on the same slope above its more famous neighbour. Does proximity to greatness mean anything in this hottest of terroir hotbeds?
The nose certainly promises good things. It's soft, delicate, and rounded, with floral notes dominating a background of subtle cashew oak, lovely flint and even some banana. Smelling this wine is like sniffing a well-planned garden just coming into bloom. It has the same freshness and intermingled complexity of aroma.
The palate takes these elements and amplifies them, while retaining a similar balance. The entry displays fresh, fine acidity that lingers on the tip of the tongue, then leads the way to the mid-palate ahead of delicate yet persistent fruit flavour. There's still tight focus as we reach the wine's mid-point, but the flavour profile by now shows its full spectrum of elements. Lightfooted citrus fruit and flinty minerality are the key ingredients, and play off each other beautifully. There's also some creaminess and lightly nutty oak in the background. The fruit is clingy but not cloying, thanks to the freshness of the acidity, and shows great definition. Structure relaxes a little out as it moves through the after palate, and spreads the same clingy fruit throughout the mouth ahead of an impressively long finish.
The wine continued to improve and gain weight all evening, and I think reached its peak at a relatively warm temperature (just lightly chilled), so don't be afraid to serve it even warmer than you might other Chardonnays. It's not a blockbuster by any means, as it showcases delicacy and balance above power. But it's pure and balanced and deliciously intense. A lovely style and one of my favourites in the recent pack of white Burgundies tasted at Full Pour. Good value.
Domaine Alain Chavy
Price: $A44
Closure: Cork
Date tasted: June 2008
One of the many joys of wine is to revisit a label that, for whatever reason, sticks in the mind from a previous tasting. The experience is akin to renewing an acquaintance. Will there still be a dialogue, hopefully even more mature and satisfying? Or does elapsed time mean increased distance without corresponding fondness? It's this unknown that creates a pleasant frisson of anticipation when I check a bottle out of the cellar for repeat tasting.
This De Bortoli stood out from the pack when I worked my way through a range of new release Pinot Noirs a while back. I clicked with its assertiveness and sense of style, so promptly purchased a few for later consumption.
Pale orange-red in the deceptively dilute Pinot manner. If a barnyard could slap one in the face, it would smell (and perhaps feel) like this wine's nose. It's willfully funky and expressive and all those good things that Pinot can be. Red fruit with a touch of musk is there but takes a back seat to all the sappy, savoury aromas that waft from the glass. It's still very primary and high toned. As nice as the nose is, the light to medium bodied palate is a step up and shows unexpected structure and intensity. Sizzly yet fine acidity hits the tongue and spreads widely towards the middle palate. Although the acid is prominent and creates a bright flavour profile, it's not a forbidding acidity, and the wine shows a contradictory relaxation in the mouth. Bright, sour red fruits, rhubarb, citrus peel, sappy vegetal characters, beguiling complexity, good flow and consistency of line. There's a lot to like here. A delicious after palate whose fruit fades just as slightly grainy tannins and yet more acidity transform the finish into a primarily textural experience.
This wine has hardly budged in the last year or so and, as mouthwatering as it is right now, should fill out with at least a couple of years in bottle. I'll be eager to reacquaint myself with it again, and again.
Update: three days of air, and the wine is only now starting to evolve. This one's got years ahead of it.
De Bortoli
Price: $A25
Closure: Stelvin
Date tasted: June 2008
This De Bortoli stood out from the pack when I worked my way through a range of new release Pinot Noirs a while back. I clicked with its assertiveness and sense of style, so promptly purchased a few for later consumption.
Pale orange-red in the deceptively dilute Pinot manner. If a barnyard could slap one in the face, it would smell (and perhaps feel) like this wine's nose. It's willfully funky and expressive and all those good things that Pinot can be. Red fruit with a touch of musk is there but takes a back seat to all the sappy, savoury aromas that waft from the glass. It's still very primary and high toned. As nice as the nose is, the light to medium bodied palate is a step up and shows unexpected structure and intensity. Sizzly yet fine acidity hits the tongue and spreads widely towards the middle palate. Although the acid is prominent and creates a bright flavour profile, it's not a forbidding acidity, and the wine shows a contradictory relaxation in the mouth. Bright, sour red fruits, rhubarb, citrus peel, sappy vegetal characters, beguiling complexity, good flow and consistency of line. There's a lot to like here. A delicious after palate whose fruit fades just as slightly grainy tannins and yet more acidity transform the finish into a primarily textural experience.
This wine has hardly budged in the last year or so and, as mouthwatering as it is right now, should fill out with at least a couple of years in bottle. I'll be eager to reacquaint myself with it again, and again.
Update: three days of air, and the wine is only now starting to evolve. This one's got years ahead of it.
De Bortoli
Price: $A25
Closure: Stelvin
Date tasted: June 2008
All signs point to vin de terroir: little bits of unidentified crud on the cork, cheap glass, a label that looks like it was generated with Broderbund Print Shop circa 1992, and a Kermit Lynch importer's sticker on the back. Sure enough, the wine is noticeably light in color in the glass, and it doesn't smell like a New World wine at all. There's sort of a sweet, smoky, summer sausage smell (sorry for the alliteration, it just came out that way) here, balanced out with dusty closet and violets.
In terms of feel, the wine is light in the mouth, fairly tannic, and leaves behind a noticeable whack of unresolved tannins; it's presumably best eaten with something meaty to balance out the tannin. It's not unpleasant, though; I remember the very first wines I ever tried as being somewhat similar. Being a Californian, is it just possible that I've grown up with wines designed for American consumers? That is, wines that are designed to be as innocuous as possible? The surprise tannin onslaught is kind of enjoyable; it leaves a pleasant tobacco leaf taste behind, and it's a nice change from the usual fruit bomb effect that leaves you with nothing but a hangover the next morning.
Over time, I came to the conclusion that this doesn't taste like any wine I know of, and that's a wonderful thing. I have no idea if this is typical for Bourgeuil; I've never had it before (only Chinon). Plus, at this price, c'mon, there are a million boring Californian wines for fifteen bucks out there - why not try something radically different for a change?
Domaine de la Chanteleuserie
Price: US $14.99
Closure: Cork
Date tasted: June 2008
In terms of feel, the wine is light in the mouth, fairly tannic, and leaves behind a noticeable whack of unresolved tannins; it's presumably best eaten with something meaty to balance out the tannin. It's not unpleasant, though; I remember the very first wines I ever tried as being somewhat similar. Being a Californian, is it just possible that I've grown up with wines designed for American consumers? That is, wines that are designed to be as innocuous as possible? The surprise tannin onslaught is kind of enjoyable; it leaves a pleasant tobacco leaf taste behind, and it's a nice change from the usual fruit bomb effect that leaves you with nothing but a hangover the next morning.
Over time, I came to the conclusion that this doesn't taste like any wine I know of, and that's a wonderful thing. I have no idea if this is typical for Bourgeuil; I've never had it before (only Chinon). Plus, at this price, c'mon, there are a million boring Californian wines for fifteen bucks out there - why not try something radically different for a change?
Domaine de la Chanteleuserie
Price: US $14.99
Closure: Cork
Date tasted: June 2008
