Author Archives: Julian Coldrey

Gilligan Shiraz 2008

Posted on by
Reply

Apparently, this is a one-off. The Gilligan red is usually a blend of Grenache, Shiraz and Mataro, but for 2008 it’s a single varietal. 

This is a disconcerting wine because, in a sense, it’s nothing like what I expect from McLaren Vale Shiraz. The flavour profile is familar: juicy blackberries and plums, dense brambles, a subtle hint of cocoa powder. But the framework in which these flavours exist is extraordinary: light, fleeting, ephemeral. It’s like seeing someone you think you recognise only to realise you’ve been duped by a particular feature — a noble forehead or fine cheekbones — and each time you look you feel the same flash of recognition. 
The aroma was a bit wild at first, not stinky so much as uncontrolled. This quickly settles to a sharp expression of McLaren Vale Shiraz, lithe and piercing in effect. Again, it’s not at all what one expects, yet taken on its own merits it’s very attractive, and almost Pinot-like in manner. There are some underlying complexities too; I’m not sure if there’s any stalk here but it wouldn’t surprise me.
The palate is again brisk and light, with sharpish acidity and loose-knit tannins. I can imagine it lightly chilled, which isn’t something that comes to my mind very often when drinking the region’s red wines. No matter; bright red fruits and orange juice-like sourness dance over the tongue in a lively if indistinct manner. It’s developing an extra degree of depth and richness with time and air, but the fundamental vibe is still bright. No significant development along the line, but the finish is a little surprising in that it seems to end prematurely, then returns to reverberate at the back of the mouth. Quite fun. The alcohol is marked at 15% abv but you’d never know it, which is surprising in itself considering the style. 
I’m rather enjoying this. 

Gilligan
Price: $A21
Closure: Stelvin

Undurraga Sibaris Carménère 2007

Posted on by
2

sibaris_ca.jpgIn a happy coincidence, I have in my day job a professional association with James McIlwain, who helms Southern Cross Wine Merchants. This wine is part of its range and I’m grateful to James for providing me with a sample. In the course of chatting with me about this and Chilean wine in general, he sketched the Colchagua valley’s topography on a post-it note, including key geographic features and weather patterns. A miniature masterpiece, to be sure, and more deserving of the paper recycling bin in which it ended up. 

This is quite outrageously aromatic; one of those wines that smells great as soon as you pop the cork. There’s a sheen of earthy green capsicum over ripe plum fruit and well-judged vanilla oak. The aroma profile is very distinctive; it’s like a cross between cool climate Cabernet (the green leafiness) and Merlot (the soft fruit character). No wonder Carménère was used in Bordeaux as a blending component prior to the onset of phylloxera. 
The palate is medium bodied and not as expansive as the nose suggests. In fact, it shows a really nice balance between  generosity of flavour and shapely line, not tipping too far in either direction. Entry is dark and fruit-driven, leading to a relatively complex middle palate, full of soft plums and that distinctive leafiness. The oak is mocha-like and subservient in terms of the overall flavour profile. Although there are abundant, ripe tannins on the after palate and finish, this doesn’t come across as a highly structured wine. It’s certainly firm enough to stand up to robust food, yet soft enough to be pleasing on its own too (as I’m currently enjoying it). 
Considering the price, clever winemaking and inherent interest in varietal terms, this wine is something of a bargain and one I’d be happy to slam down at a posh barbeque. 

Undurraga
Price: $A24
Closure: Cork

Unison Classic Blend 2007

Posted on by
Reply

Though this is nice to drink, it’s in every way a lesser wine compared to its reserve-level sibling, the Selection (2005, 2006). I’d definitely spring for the mesmerising Selection for maximum satisfaction.

Having made that rather predictable point, it’s worth noting this wine shows some really attractive, regional characters that I enjoy very much. Principally, there’s a floral potpourri note on the nose that is a foil to noisy mocha oak, some (for me, questionable) vegetal notes, candied plums and brown spice. Though it’s quite piercing up top, and there’s dark fruit in the lower registers too, the aroma lacks a sense of continuity from top to bottom, and hence comes across as a little disjointed. No lack of volume, though.
The palate is equally robust. A similar array of flavours — plums, cough syrup, coffee grounds, spice — present quickly on entry, followed by a widening through the middle palate. The mouthfeel is notable, being roughly textural and quite bold. Despite the character of the flavours and texture, it’s not an overly intense wine, and there’s a slight sense of dilution to the softer fruit flavours. Grainy tannins emerge on the after palate, drying the tongue and giving the sweet fruit a nice edge. Those vegetal notes from the nose shoot through the finish as well.
Not sure I’m convinced by this on its own, though it improved markedly when taken with Bega tasty on crackers. Definitely drink this with assertive food to bring out the best of its flavour profile and soften its rather rustic mouthfeel. 
Update: markedly better on day two. Much rounder, more satisfying fruit (though quite sweet) and the rough mocha edge takes a step back. Perhaps I was feeling impatient last night.

Unison Vineyard
Price: $A30
Closure: Cork

Unison Selection 2006

Posted on by
2

Some wines are charismatic without being pretty; they make an entrance with the panache of the truly confident, and it takes a moment before you realise they’re really not that attractive in a conventional sense. But their confidence draws you in regardless, generating a visceral response that, perhaps, speaks to a different sort of beauty.

For example, I could describe the aroma of this wine as outré, inelegant, overanxious; it’s indeed all these things. But it’s absolutely magnetic too, exerting an attraction that is really compelling. It’s a bit volatile — indeed, not a clinical style at all — with lifted aromas of stalk, black pepper, dried flowers, and deep plum fruit. Despite the eagerness of each note, there’s a fluidity to their collective expression that unifies the aroma profile and generates a sense of coherence.

There’s coherence, too, from nose to palate, starting with an entry that tingles with delicately sweet, red fruit. The flavour profile quickly darkens towards the middle palate, and a few threads begin to emerge. There’s rich, fresh plum juice, tart plum skins, sweet mocha tannins, astringent stalk and cracked black pepper. It’s quite complex, with a beguiling mouthfeel that seems to be both liquid-smooth and velvet-tannic at the same time. Spices and red fruit rise through the after palate before a long, aromatic finish draws the wine to a satisfying close.

There’s definitely an “X factor” at work here and, perhaps because of this, I suspect the style will be divisive. But even if this wine doesn’t speak to one’s personal preference, it’s hard to deny the strength with which its stylistic argument is made.

Unison Vineyard
Price: $A50
Closure: Diam

Domaine Alain Chavy Puligny-Montrachet 1er Cru Les Clavoillons 2006

Posted on by
Reply

With Burgundy, it’s a truism that producers make all the difference. So, the same premier cru may vary wildly in reputation based on who has grown the grapes and made the wine. All of which seems sensible, until one places it on the context of terroir and the defining place Burgundy seems to hold in terms of this idea of wine. In the immortal words of Michael Veitch, there’s a lesson in that for all of us.

Perhaps because I cleaned my bathroom today, I’m detecting a hint of Domestos Regular (the blue bottle) in the aroma of this wine, along with what I initially thought was some cork taint.  Not a great way to start a tasting; it’s just not one of those wines that emerges, fully formed, when it’s first poured. Rather, it needs time to collect its thoughts. After an hour or so of air, funky cashew nuts, oatmeal, piercing fruit flavours that are both blossom and juice, and some toasty oak. Alain Chavy’s wines tend towards restraint and delicacy, and that’s very much the case with this wine too, which makes it quite elusive. Despite the complexity, what shines most on the nose is sharp, slightly sour fruit for which I’m struggling to find an appropriate descriptor. A cross between lemons and white stonefruit is probably the best I can do. No matter — with enough time, there’s a beguiling sense of harmony that is attractively sensual, beseiged by discordant minerality that never allows things to become too easy.
The palate is characterised by fresh acidity and good thrust. A really attractive entry that’s surprisingly soft, with cashews and furry white peach flowing to a middle palate that shifts up a gear. Bang, there’s an orange juice-like mouthfeel, delicious fruit that shows good intensity, and an overall sense of brisk efficiency. Funky oatmeal remains an underlying flavour component until the after palate, where fruit begins to take a back seat to this and a range of other nutty and mineral notes. A surge of these flavours carries through to the finish, which vibrates for some time. 
This isn’t a wine to lust after, as it asks you to work a bit and live with its idiosyncrasies. I wonder if falls between stools, stylistically; part of me wishes it were more expressive and softer. But then I take another sip and this tension between luscious fruit and nervy minerality seems very much of the essence. I’m almost convinced, in the moment, its vision of Burgundy is right. I’m very happy to debate it.

Domaine Alain Chavy
Price: $A81.40
Closure: Cork

Wynns Coonawarra Estate Alex 88 Cabernet Sauvignon 2006

Posted on by
1

Wynns’ series of single vineyard bottlings over recent vintages prompts, amongst other things, the question: why? The back label suggests each bottling represents an outstanding parcel of fruit from a particular vineyard in a particular year, which is fine; but what, exactly, does “outstanding” mean in this context? Of the two I’ve tasted (the Johnson’s Block and this one), both seem within the same order of magnitude of quality as the Black Label, yet slightly outside the mainstream of regional style set by that same wine. Perhaps a distinctive character, not ostentatious quality, is the point here. I can dig that.

This was really disjointed for the first while but is coming together nicely. Used coffee grounds, ripe red fruit, polished sideboards full of old cutlery, and a few pine needles too. I wouldn’t describe the aroma as elegant, which is a shame to me as Coonawarra Cabernet can be terribly stylish, but it’s also flagrantly, sexily aromatic. The culprit, it seems, is fruit that errs on the side of very ripe, and oak that bludgeons in its custard, cedar profile. I’m being picky, though.

The palate is plush and generous, such that the wine drinks well now. Somehow, it seems more varietal than the nose, especially in its herbaceous overtones. As with the nose, the fruit here is sweet and red, and slightly stewed. There’s a nice linearity to the flow, with a consistent level of fruit intensity and density from early on through to the finish. Some interesting complexities of flavour, especially on the after palate where something akin to aniseed seems to poke its head out, along with a bit of menthol. Tannins are silty, globby masses of texture, kind of like wading out onto a mud flat with bare feet.

It’s not really my style of Cabernet, but I think it should win quite a few friends nonetheless.

Wynns Coonawarra Estate
Price: $A35
Closure: Stelvin

Gilligan Marsanne Roussanne 2009

Posted on by
5

Why is Coke so popular? Why isn’t Passiona taking the world by storm? Personally, I adore Passiona and think it has a lot to offer the soft-drinking community. Yet Coke flies off the shelves. It all begs the question: are some soft drinks inherently better than others? Ditto grapes; do some varieties, barring easy targets like Trebbiano, simply make better wines than others? 

I don’t care to attempt an answer but, given the role fashion plays in wine appreciation and commerce, it seems dangerous to use market acceptance as an indicator of a variety’s potential. (Hunter) Semillon is a great example, and I wonder about the white Rhône varieties too. Viognier is, of course, enjoying an odd sort of resurgence, though I’m buggered if I can figure out what to eat with it. Marsanne and Roussanne are even more interesting. Tahbilk continues to make its iconic Marsanne at Nagambie Lakes, and a street price of about $A10 should tell you how scandalously little it is valued by the market (not that my wallet is complaining). Australian Roussanne is even thinner on the ground, yet my infallible fashion radar indicates a growing interest in these two varieties, even if the local industry’s collective expression suggests a degree of puzzlement rather than confidence. 
Enter McLaren Vale producer Gilligan with the first vintage of its Marsanne Rousanne blend (about half each). It’s a striking label, and I mean that literally; its bold typographic treatment on reflective silver should stand out on a shelf. It should also stand out when smelled, because it delivers a big hit of honeysuckle and bubblegum with the eagerness of an overweight teenager deciding what to order at McDonald’s (I speak from personal experience). If it had lingered too long on this note, it would have quickly become cloying, but the nice thing about this wine is that it keeps defying my expectations. From its Britney Spears start, it evolves to show subtle yet lively fruit flavours (in a sort of pineapple and orange spectrum) and, a little unexpectedly, savoury minerality too. The aroma profile never lives up to the impact of its first impression; whether this is good or bad is probably a matter of taste. 
The palate starts full and generous, as one might expect from these varieties, with a shapely flow into the mouth herded by fine, fresh acid. Again, intensity of fruit wanes a little towards the mid-palate, and it’s here more than on the nose that I was left wishing for just a bit extra. Compensation comes in the form of decent complexity and a pleasingly nuanced structure. That same savouriness as on the nose (is it sulphur-derived?) presents through the after palate and tastes very grown up. A fresh finish of unremarkable length.
You could throw this back as a simple quaffer if you chose but, like an unexpectedly smart movie, it prods and provokes more complex responses. This intelligence, combined with a still-unusual mix of grape varieties, is a lot of wine for $A21. Nice.

Gilligan
Price: $A21
Closure: Stelvin

Seppelt Grampians Chardonnay 2008

Posted on by
Reply

Moyston, in the Grampians GI, is renowned as the birthplace of Aussie Rules, so it seems fitting on this Grand Final evening, as Cats supporters all over the country (including my family in Melbourne – hi Trav!) celebrate a hard fought win, that I open something with a connection — albeit a ridiculously tenuous one — to the game. 

Interesting wine this one – there’s no great intensity on the nose or palate, but it’s made within a style that seems pitched above its station, and that makes it worthy of closer attention. It’s tight and controlled, with delicate white stonefruit and a funky, cottage-cheese astringency on the nose. Some prickly minerality too; indeed, there’s no shortage of things to note in the aroma profile, even if the whole feels like it’s underachieving. This reminds me a little of Seppelt’s Jaluka Chardonnay without the same level of fruit impact and certainly with less oak (not a bad thing). 
The palate shows more prickly minerality, and I wonder whether there isn’t a bit of sulphur in there too, contributing a savoury note and some pleasant funkiness. The fruit itself seems delicate, floral, a bit dilute perhaps. The after palate has the greatest presence, with a peak of fruit flavour and an appealing roundness of mouthfeel. A soft, gently fading finish that is deceptively long.
If the style is a bit aspirational with respect to the fruit, at least it makes for a thought-provoking experience. It’s not a great wine in any respect, yet it has held my attention through the evening and continues to deliver interest with each sip. An artist in the making, perhaps. Good value.

Seppelt
Price: $A18
Closure: Stelvin

Karra Yerta Eden Valley Riesling 2009

Posted on by
2

ev riesling 09.gifThe Karra Yerta vineyard has a flavour that is partly Eden Valley but otherwise all its own. This is the third vintage I’ve tasted and there’s a striking family resemblance between the wines. The 2008 was full and soft, communicating a luxuriant plushness while remaining in the mainstream of Eden style. The 2005 was austere and acidic, clearly built for the long haul, and what one might consider a more typical wine of the region. This most recent edition is different again, yet its core of pastel, shimmering fruit is all Karra Yerta, clearly showing the terroir of this special vineyard.

A most interesting range of aromas — watermelon, apples, lychee, cut grass, spice, lemon — seem to glisten and evolve from the glass like shiny scented pillows. There’s excellent complexity and cohesiveness for such a young Riesling; this is absolutely ready to drink now as a striking aromatic white, although I’m quite sure it could take a good deal of bottle age if one likes that sort of thing. 
A wallop of acidity announces the palate in no uncertain terms; this is definitely a young Riesling, but it’s not undrinkably tart as some can be. Instead, its fine texture and delicious sourness present alongside quite rich, full fruit flavours of a similar character to the nose, but for more prominent apple and lemon flavours. The middle palate is strikingly intense, yet what I like most is the shape and flow. Generous flavour is contained within a couture-like silhouette that cuts a dashing figure through the mouth. Everything’s in line, flowing as it should, with perfect control. An intriguing note, savoury and spicy in equal measure, kicks through the after palate before a sour, delicious finish of very impressive length rounds it all off. Indeed, this seems to go on and on for ages.
I don’t pretend to be an objective taster by any means, so although this is a quality wine made by a passionate producer in tiny quantities, it all comes to nought, because drinking this is like falling in love. Nothing else matters. 

Karra Yerta Wines
Price: $A25
Closure: Stelvin

Moxie Sparkling Shiraz NV

Posted on by
2

mox.pngSome wines work a treat over a long, Summery lunch.  Others make a roast beef taste twice as good as it normally would (especially if consumed before dinner). In my constant quest to categorise wine according to its most suited purpose, this shall hereafter be known as “the wine that goes great with Dominos pizza on a night where you decide to chuck all the hard work you did last week in the gym because it’s rainy out and you just can’t be rooted walking on a treadmill for an hour.” Admittedly, a niche category, but one I suspect some of our valued readers can identify with.

Indeed, it can be hard to find a good pizza wine, and I don’t mean a good gourmet crocodile and chermoula pizza wine, but a good pepperoni, or a good ham and pineapple, pizza wine. When confronted with such nourishment, most options seem either to lack robustness (causing one to feel a sense of loss with every barely discerned sip), or are of an excessively Italianate manner (compelling a sense of approval, if not satisfaction). This sparking Shiraz from Langhorne Creek, though, seems to hit precisely the right note. 
Aromas of cured meat, spice, garlic, tomato and yeast; yes, a delicious slice of pizza indeed, after which smelling this wine is like inhaling a barrel full of crushed blackberries. It’s somewhat one-dimensional but, more importantly, cuts through heady flavours of pepperoni and crust with a thrust and parry of juicy black fruit and high toned vanilla. It’s pure fun, quite vulgar and, somehow, exactly what one wants to smell after a mouthful of savouriness. 
Being a sparkling wine, the mouthfeel is tingly and refreshing almost by default; again, a desirable trait when coupled with a potentially greasy, overpowering food like cheap pizza. As it is, any trace of oiliness is whisked away with each sip, leaving behind echos of sandalwood oak and your current waistline. It’s not a sweet wine, but neither is it excessively dry, so the fruit has fullness without becoming cloying or heavy with time in glass. As with several other Dowie Doole wines I’ve tasted, this seems designed for pleasurable drinking rather than contemplation; a worthy goal indeed.
The label design, which I feel compelled to reproduce here, suggests nightclubs, fast times and thoughtless consumption. To me, though, here’s a wine that makes fast food a bit special on a Monday night. 

Dowie Doole
Price: $22.50
Closure: Diam