Author Archives: Julian Coldrey

Scarborough White Label Chardonnay 2009

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Few things over the past three or so years have been sufficient to drag me away from wine writing. Tasting and reflecting on wine is one of my greatest pleasures; if it weren’t, I certainly wouldn’t have co-created this site and spent so many hours contributing to it. Learning about wine is its own reward, and my involvement with the drink continues to surprise me as it takes new twists and turns.

The last couple of weeks have conspired, though, to reduce my output to zero. A gloriously non-alcoholic holiday, followed by a jet-lag infused first week back home and, finally, a messy chest cold have hardly inspired me to ponder the finer points of wine. Happily, the cold is under control, the jet-lag mostly gone and my post-holiday blues seem to be rapidly receding. What better opportunity to get back into things with this Hunter Valley Chardonnay?

I must write a whole article at some point about the intersection of taste, wine style and fashion. While on vacation, I read a slim but spectacularly interesting book about Celine Dion (yes, you read that right) that is perhaps the best summary of aesthetics by way of personal taste I’ve ever read. More on that soon; for now, suffice to say this wine embodies a firmly unfashionable style and does so with verve and dedication.

A rich, golden hue is followed by an aroma that showcases winemaking before all else. Yes, we’re in Worked Chardonnay territory here, and that will be enough to turn some drinkers off immediately. But, dammit, it shouldn’t; nothing this complex and generous ought to go unappreciated. There are grilled nuts, cream, a hint of honeycomb, herbs and finally some white stonefruit. It’s a very young wine, as evidenced by a sharpness to the aroma profile that is not entirely pleasant but which should soften with a little time.

The palate begins with the same sharpness, here translating as a slight bitterness, but quickly moves through to a set of flavours that tread an interesting line between freshly savoury and guiltily sweet. What’s clear is there’s quite firm structure at play, completely preventing the wine from being heavy or cloying. Although I’ve tasted more intense wines in this style, there’s significant impact as this hits the tongue, and its power carries right through the middle and after palates. A creamed honey lift starts towards the back of the mouth and coats the finish with a softness that counteracts a continuation of the slight bitterness that is this wine’s most distinctive flavour component. Very decent length, though a bit hot on the finish.

Hunter Chardonnay, thanks for welcoming me back.

Scarborough
Price: $A30
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Sample

Offcuts

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Holidays leave little time for blogging and, interestingly, for drinking too. However, a few items have been consumed along the way so far, brief impressions of which follow.

Continuing on my supermarket wine odyssey for a moment, I had a bottle of ASDA’s 2009 Montagne Saint-Emilion (£6) last night. there are precious few details on the bottle as to it provenance, but the wine itself turned out to be very drinkable, slightly simple and confected red fruit flavours forming an appropriately light layer atop a well balanced platform of acid and tannin. A really nice bistro-style wine that I could happily throw back by the carafe-full at lunch.

Rather more spectacular was a bottle of Morris Grant Liqueur Tokay NV ($A35). Morris’s house style is typically fuller and sweeter than other Rutherglen producers, and this wine was a powerhouse of coffee, tea-leaf and toffee flavours. Incredible length and drive, exciting intensity, complex flavours. Not the most elegant Tokay I’ve ever had but oh-so satisfying.&

I wasn’t, and am still not, sure what to make of a bottle of 2005 Glaetzer Godolphin (£30), more from a stylistic perspective than a quality one. There’s no doubt in my mind this is the wine it sets out to be, with gobs of dense fruit and oak on both nose and palate. The fruit’s character is typically Barossan too, with the kind of warm juiciness fans of this region will value highly. If it’s not my cup of tea, being a little garrulous and brutish as a style, then perhaps that’s simply my loss.

Ridge Lytton Springs 2005

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Wine lovers are often bargain hunters too, perhaps by necessity. Back in 2002, Chris and I happened to be in the same city at the same time (Sydney), and experienced the joy of locating, then purchasing, an entire stash of 1994 Ridge Geyserville from a little bottle shop in Chinatown. To find such a wine was grand enough, but the proprietors of the bottle shop in which it lay clearly had no idea what it was, and were happy to sell us the lot for (from memory) about ten dollars a bottle.

Of course, wines of such dodgy provenance often prove disappointing, let alone ones made of a grape (Zinfandel) whose ability to age is contested. But the first bottle we opened that night — before our most memorable dinner — was good, and so was every bottle tasted thereafter. I’ve long finished my half of the stash, but the memory of both the find and the consumption remain vivid. Chris regularly stokes these fond recollections by providing a bottle or two of Ridge wine whenever we meet to drink, so over the years I’ve been lucky enough to taste everything from various Monte Bellos to a spectacular Syrah that gave a bottle of 2001 Clonakilla Shiraz Viognier tasted alongside a run for its money. I remember approaching that Syrah after some initial courses of German Riesling and so on; we were at that point in a grand dinner where the company, food and alcohol begin to meld into a single warm sensation. I smelled it once, not knowing what to expect, and was completely unable to control a spontaneous éclat of laughter. It was so wonderful.

All of which makes it difficult for me to write objectively about Ridge wines. In a sense, though, to approach this wine through a lens of dispassionate evaluation is to miss both what it means to me and what it represents, stylistically. Although I had never tasted this particular vintage before last night, the warm prickliness of its aroma was immediately transportative. To me, this smells of Californian wine, and for that alone I grant it enormous value. Each time I taste a Zinfandel-based wine, in particular those by Ridge, I love the difference of its flavour profile. Here, there’s intense spice and fruit cake, abundant chocolate, coconut and cherries. It’s as if someone stuffed a Cherry Ripe into the ripest, richest Christmas cake imaginable. Hence, it’s not an elegant wine in either character or footprint, and I love that it presents its notes with such blustery confidence.

The palate rebalances the aroma’s intense spice by providing a core of sweet, bright red fruit that cools the flavour profile. Entry is crisp and immediate, starting dark but quickly brightening to show a mix of red and black fruits. These fruits are juicy and perfectly ripened and provide much of the pleasure of eating freshly picked berries. Swirling all around this core are warm, rich spice notes, well-balanced mocha oak and a streak of bright orange juice. The finish leaves one with a lingering impression of the purest, sweetest fruit. Structurally, this is quite spectacular, the acid totally integrated and the tannins chewy and sweet. It’s taken a day to really open up, so I’d be leaving further bottles in the cellar for at least two to three more years before retasting.

In a sense, tasting a single wine prompts one to reflect on the entirety of one’s tasting experiences. This is what makes wine a pastime that becomes exponentially richer as the years pass, and also what can magnify the experience of one wine beyond all proportion. Happily, this wine was able to bear the full weight of my memories.

Ridge
Price: £25
Closure: Cork
Source: Retail

Closerie des Alisiers Meursault Vieilles Vignes 2008

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Onwards with my British supermarket wine odyssey. Last night I was browsing in a Sainsbury’s and gravitated to the “fine wine” section. Out jumped this little number, a village-level white Burgundy priced at a reasonable (in Australian terms) £20. Unlike the recent Tesco disappointment, this wine is not a house-branded wine.

An interesting nose, mutable and complex, showing by turns savoury minerality, rich peach syrup and lemon thyme. There’s a bit of marginally distracting sulfur that emphasises the savouriness of the aroma profile. Is it an attractive wine to smell? Not in a conventional sense; it’s too angular and too full of contrasts. But there’s a lot there and overall the aroma communicates a nice sense of sophistication.

The palate is shockingly acidic at first, and this acidity briefly masks an array of quite fabulous flavours. Things seem more coherent in the mouth than on the nose, due in part to a rounding out of each flavour component. The fruit is now juicy and fleshy, the nutty creaminess a much more significant influence. Add to this a buxom mouthfeel and the wine really starts to come alive as you work your way through the first glass. By way of criticism, intensity is only moderate, and this jars when placed against the plushness and weight of the wine. Also, the flavour profile as a whole continues to lack a sense of wholeness that one would ideally see, but each element is pleasing on its own terms, and I wonder whether a bit of a rest in bottle might bring things together.

Not bad at all.

Closerie des Alisiers
Price: £19.95
Closure: Cork
Source: Retail

Casa Vinicola Luigi Cecchi & Figli Chianti Classico 2008

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Also known as Tesco’s generic Chianti Classico. One of the things I’ve been amused by on my visit to the UK is the reorientation required when browsing supermarket wine aisles. Italian, Argentinian, Chilean and South African wines all seem to vie for cheapest spot, while the Aussies are off to one side with either unexpectedly expensive wines (for example, Jacob’s Creek) or really boring looking labels that seem to equate “export only” with a complete lack of personality on the shelf. Meanwhile, Tesco’s shelves seem heavily occupied with its own “selections” that encompass the usual regional suspects: Rhône, Burgundy, Bordeaux and various Italian regions, including of course Chianti.

So, browsing my local Tesco Express last night, I decided to do as the locals do and pick up a bottle of Tesco’s 2008 Chianti Classico to go with an Italian meal my host was preparing. There are few wines I prefer to drink with robust food more than a good Chianti, and I was curious to see how Tesco’s buyers had chosen to navigate the dangers of overcropped Sangiovese with their selection.

As it turns out, not all that well. Despite being varietally correct, this wine shows a degree of dilution that robs it of a lot of enjoyment. Sharp aromas of red cherries, twigs and raw almonds on the nose. It’s what I’d expect from such a wine, perhaps a little simple, but certainly correct. And volume isn’t the problem; what’s there is expressive. It’s just so thin, lacking in the kind of meaty density that makes any wine enticing to smell.

Again, totally correct with very attractive flavours on the palate; some marzipan thrown in amongst a big hit of sour cherries and vanilla. I’m also pleased with the wine’s mouthfeel, as it shows just enough of the rusticity that I look for in Sangiovese. But oh, how dilute are the flavours! It’s really quite tough to sit with a wine that hints at such satisfaction but which never actually delivers. Each mouthful is a struggle to get what I need from it.

Often, “food wine” is code for “not very good.” For me, though, food wines often bear the heaviest burden, as they must live up not only to their own potential but that of the meal too. The exceptional quality of my meal last night made this wine’s shortcomings even less acceptable.

Casa Vinicola Luigi Cecchi & Figli
Price: £10
Closure: Diam
Source: Retail

Clayfield Black Label Shiraz 2008

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I’m in the UK enjoying a rather overdue holiday. My current locale is the North East — County Durham — where each day is marked by lashings of rain, wind and the occasional burst of lovely sunshine. Certainly a dramatic change from the floods, cyclones and general sub-tropicalness I left behind in Queensland, but no less invigorating for it.

One thing I didn’t leave behind, though, was this bottle of wine. I brought it along to share with my host here as (what I hoped would be) an example of one of our great Shiraz styles. Three nights ago, we sat down to to a richly aromatic lamb pot roast and I thought it the right occasion to crack this open.

What a disappointment (bear with me, though). On opening, it was disjointed, overly chocolatey and lacking in the particular Grampians fruit character that makes this style so enduring and exciting. Surely this couldn’t be a representative bottle. Simon Clayfield is a painfully talented winemaker, so I had difficultly interpreting this wine’s ungainliness, as did my host, who felt it smelled overwhelmingly of dusty Christmas ornaments in musty packaging (and he’s not even a wino… impressive). We left it aside after a glass each and it’s only now that I’m returning to it, on the chance that something interesting has happened in bottle.

And boy, has it ever. The lesson here is to give this wine plenty of time and air. Three days after opening, it’s just beginning to sing with the most charming and typical plum fruit character, brown spice, flashes of red berry, brambles, dust and cocoa powder. Such complexity and luxe, it’s a wonderful wine to keep smelling. I should note, though, this is definitely a product of its vintage, being a richer wine with less classically cool climate character than is sometimes found in wines of this region.

The palate is most dramatically changed from a few days ago, showing an elegance of line that simply wasn’t present at first. It’s also pleasingly fresh, the bright fruit character and juicy orange acid contributing most to this impression. Overall, it’s medium bodied in weight and brisk in movement, scattering fruit, freshly ground spice and subtle oak across the tongue. It all culminates in a long, rustic finish whose tannins rasp the tongue coquettishly, both sweet and rough. There’s some heat on the palate, unsurprising given its 15.7% abv; whether this is an issue may vary from drinker to drinker.

So glad I waited.

Clayfield Wines
Price: $A65
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Sample

Clayfield Thomas Wills Shiraz NV

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Browsing back through my notes, I see I never wrote up the 2008 Thomas Wills Shiraz in a comprehensive manner, though my first impressions are to be found within this post on Clayfield’s range as a whole. This wine forms part of an emerging collection of labels the makers of which seem intent on engaging more deeply with the regional and stylistic histories within which they are working. I’m thinking of the Mountain X project, for example, as well as producers like The Story, who are applying modern thinking about terroir and style to ultra-traditional regions such as the Grampians.

In the case of this wine, Clayfield takes inspiration from an idea of what wine might have been like one hundred years ago in the Grampians. Whether real or imagined, the style is full-throttle and robust, very much take no prisoners in vibe. It has been especially interesting to show the 2008 to several friends over the past months. Their reactions have been far from neutral, and on the whole very positive, which suggests an earthy appeal to its powerful delivery of flavour. Alcohol levels approaching 16% abv also provoked interest, though my feeling was the wine held its heat perfectly well.

To this, the current release. Unusually, Clayfield has taken a non-vintage approach, blending material from the 2008 and 2010 vintages and, although the same liquerous earthiness I liked so much in the 2008 remains present, this release has a degree of finesse that elevates it above the previous wine.

The nose is heady with ultra-ripe plums, hints of dry earth and a whole rack of brown spices. Those looking for a peppery expression of Grampians Shiraz may not find what they’re looking for here. However, this is clearly a wine of the region, and the character of the fruit is, in particular, highly regional. There’s something extremely cuddly about the way this smells; like a prickly wool jumper. It’s not a regressive or simple aroma profile, though; its emphasis on powerfully savoury plums and rich spice is both complex and sophisticated.

The palate is where this wine departs most from its predecessor. There’s a whole dimension of detail and finesse here that wasn’t present before, and this brings another level of pleasure to what remains a muscular wine. It’s as if all the brawn has more shape and definition this year, transforming from a slightly brutish physique to one with some dashing and swing. One must put this into context, though; the flavour profile remains idiosyncratic and quite rustic, full of ripe plums, bark and spice. In particular, the tannins recall the 2008, coarse-grained and prickly, sweet and spiky.

If you liked the rough and ready vibe of the 2008, you may miss a degree of wildness in this wine. For my palate, though, this is the superior release, blending the same intensity and power with a finer flow through the mouth. This label remains a daring experiment, albeit one whose maker is clearly intent on refining year after year. This is a lot of wine for $35.

Clayfield Wines
Price: $A35
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Sample

Domaine Rapet Père et Fils Pernand-Vergelesses Les Combottes 2007

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I’ve enjoyed my recent foray into affordable white Burgundy from the 2007 vintage, and this wine from also-ran village Pernand-Vergelesses is one of my favourites so far. It’s slutty in the way only Chardonnay can be, yet retains a measure of restraint and a streak of minerality that make it difficult to write off as pure hedonism.

The nose, in fact, has evolved a significant mineral component that sits alongside billowy peach, caramel and fresh herbs. The aroma is rich and somewhat obvious, the latter in no way detracting from its deliciousness. Curiously, there’s also the smell of unscented soap, though the power of suggestion looms large over this impression.

One thing the aroma doesn’t do is adequately signal the generosity of the palate. It’s here the wine comes alive with gushy flavour, helped along by a mouthfeel that in less kind moments I might describe as “pumped up” but which here I shall call “slippery” and “voluptuous.” Funny how a single element can come across well or badly depending on its context. Though there’s enough acid to keep a mound of peaches and cream in line, there’s nothing especially racy or fine about the way this moves through the palate. No, this is designed for immediate gratification and proves a wine that’s ready to drink young doesn’t need to insult one’s intelligence.

Delicious and worthy.

Domaine Rapet Père et Fils
Price: $A30
Closure: Cork
Source: Retail

Yelland & Papps Delight Grenache Shiraz 2009

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This is a very tidy release from Yelland & Papps. Increasingly, I’m interested in the wines I choose and the reasons why I might feel like one style versus another. Tonight, I didn’t want to be challenged. I wanted a wine to caress my palate with generosity and warmth, ripe fruit, lighter coloured berries. The trade-off with these styles can often involve limited complexity and an obviousness of structure that can mitigate one’s full enjoyment. But I reckon this one’s got it about right.

There’s no doubt this is is a buxom, fruit-driven wine, as befits its varieties and regional origins. The nose is full of stewed plums, fresh raspberries and other fleshy fruits, all tinged with a hint of earthiness and the sort of alcohol heat that may be objectionable to some but to me, tonight, promises guilty enjoyment. But it’s the fruit that’s the star in this aroma profile, pulpy and ripe and more than a bit loose.

The palate is a genuine continuation of the nose, flavours translating authentically to middle and after palates of some lushness. It’s not as intense as one might like, and this fact leaves me wanting a little more with each sip. So, in this sense, the wine never fully delivers on its olfactory promise. No matter; a slippery mouthfeel adds the requisite sense of luxe to one’s experience, and there’s enough prickly acidity to prevent ripe plum and red berries from overstaying their welcome. Slight, powdery tannins overlay a finish that is part heat and part hollow. It’s all over much too quickly.

I’m enjoying this beyond what is reasonable and, despite its flaws, feel this really works.

Yelland & Papps
Price: $A19.95
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Sample

Mitchell Harris Cabernet Sauvignon 2009

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Am I wrong to have firmer expectations of Cabernet’s flavour profile compared to, say, Shiraz? Where one tends to celebrate the regional differences between many wines, I find myself occasionally knocking a Cabernet for tasting un-Cabernetish. Perhaps one of my resolutions this year should be to keep an open mind when it comes to this particular variety. Who knows, I might even start enjoying the Barossa version.

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. First up, this wine from the Pyrenees in Victoria. It’s regional, moderate of body, cleanly made, and offers a clear alternative to Coonawarra and Margaret River styles. So far so good.

Except of course if you have an aversion to those typically Pyrenean gum tree influences. Personally, I’ve never had an issue with a balanced intrusion of these aromas, so for me the nose is attractively supple, with crisp black berries and slightly raw oak forming the balance of notes. The aroma is prickly and young; elegant is perhaps the wrong descriptor. Light oughtn’t automatically be equated with elegance, and here the impression is more one of youthful enthusiasm, of an underdeveloped frame showing some muscularity but lacking the bulk one might expect of a fully grown specimen.

This carries through to the palate, though I am very much enjoying what seems to me an adolescent work in progress. Very clean and correct in its progress down the line, this wine starts with savoury red and black berries, progresses through some leaf and cedar to end up with a slightly aggressive astringency that should calm with time and air. Perhaps it’s a little dilute in absolute terms, but its style is such that this seems an asset rather than a fault. It’s terribly easy to drink, goes well with food (in my case a robust pasta bake) and isn’t so expensive that one would feel guilty for polishing off a bottle rather too quickly. There’s something to be said for such a lack of pretension.

Mitchell Harris
Price: $A24.95
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Sample