Category Archives: Australia

Lowe Tinja Preservative Free White 2012

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One becomes so jaded. As soon as I saw this wine’s label, I immediately assumed its preservative free status was some kind of spin, a claim at natural wine status perhaps, or a cynical attempt at niche marketing. Shame on me — it turns out the winemaker is himself sensitive to sulfur dioxide and makes this wine for those similarly afflicted. As someone who erupts into fits of coughing when faced with too much sulfur, that’s an intent I can relate to.

The wine itself is a blend of Chardonnay and Verdelho. It’s quite low in alcohol (10% ABV) and shows considerable spritz when poured. Although ostensibly a still table wine, the dissolved carbon dioxide exerts a significant influence over the experience of this wine, its nose prickling with savouriness and its palate enlivening the tongue even if it doesn’t exactly flood the tastebuds with flavour. The overall impression is one of neutral freshness and crisp acid. Crucially with a wine such as this, there are no faults, but nor is there much personality.

It seems the purpose of this wine is simply to provide fresh, easy drinking to those with an aversion to sulfur dioxide. In this it succeeds admirably.

Lowe Wines
Price: $A20
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Sample

Chapel Hill il Vescovo Tempranillo 2011

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From where I sit, Tempranillo is neatly slotting into the role of “alternative red varietal of choice at $25 and under.” Catchy, no?

And as I contemplate an alternate career in marketing, I will note some impressions of this Chapel Hill Tempranillo. It hails from the McLaren Vale, which has churned out a few good examples of this varietal lately. There’s something about the seemingly inevitable generosity of this region’s reds that gives Tempranillo some flesh to hang on its muscle and angles. Is this Tempranillo-lite, in the manner of a lot of early Australian Sangiovese? Perhaps, but this tastes right to me in a way a plump version of Chianti never did.

The aroma is dark and dusty, with the sort of spice profile and sense of snapped twig that I strongly associate with the grape. It’s varietal, then, if cuddly as well. What’s especially nice about the way this smells is that it’s challenging enough to separate it from a vast number of zero friction red wines at this price point. Given the difficulties of the vintage, I’m pretty impressed with how resolved this smells.

The palate also shows an interplay of flesh and fundamentally angular flavour. It’s dark and earthy, with savoury fruit taking a back seat to roasted spice and what I can only describe as tanbark. It’s a very difficult flavour profile to put into words, but what’s more significant to me is how it is such a great food wine. Indeed, I’m tucking into a lamb shank as I type, and the wine’s self-effacing structure and underplayed complexity help it fill the accompanist’s role with aplomb.

How nice to find a wine that isn’t intent on taking centre stage.

Chapel Hill
Price: $A25
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Sample

Tapanappa Tiers Vineyard Chardonnay 2010

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Earlier in the week, I hurriedly tasted the current releases of Tapanappa’s three single vineyard wines. All are worthy and exciting but I was especially drawn to this one. I have been looking forward to spending a bit more quality time with it.

I’ve had some pretty strong reactions against some Australian Chardonnays over the past few years that have seemed, to me, stylistically forced. The swing against our now-reviled broader styles perhaps inevitably went hard, and on many occasions the new wave of Chardonnays seemed to me more a matter of fashion than a deeper engagement with variety and site. Interestingly, Tapanappa’s philosophy of wine is centered on the idea of distinguished sites, sites whose terroirs perfectly marry with the grape variety to which they are planted. Not a new idea, to be sure, but one that is pursued with some purity by this producer and one that, in theory, should cut through stylistic fashion. Is there a single truth of a particular terroir and variety? I’m not sure I know the answer…

Although this falls into the category of richer, more worked wines, it has a delicacy and clarity of expression that defies its weight and complexity.  The aroma is full of distinct notes, tending towards savoury and taut yet underpinned by luscious stonefruit and caramel. It’s rich and nimble at the same time, perhaps a function of its youth (and, dare I say, the screwcap closure). Oak is present in a floral, vanillan thread that weaves in and out of the fruit flavours. There’s a lot going on here.

The palate, as with the nose, is a balance of nervous vitality and muscle. Again, complex in terms of flavour profile, moving from savoury lees notes through a range of stonefruit and citrus to beautifully balanced butterscotch and caramel. The architecture of the wine is most impressive: its flavours are clear and distinct, and sit within a large scale frame that exists without heaviness. Here’s a wine that shows the full range of winemaking input without it ever overwhelming the essential qualities of its fruit. One can indeed have one’s cake and eat it too.

Cracking wine.

Tapanappa
Price: $A75
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Sample

Topper’s Mountain Red Earth Child 2009

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Despite a seemingly never ending quest to communicate a “sense of place,” it’s remarkable how few vignerons in Australia put site ahead of variety. The privileging of varietal wines comes at the expense of the idea that site is best expressed through a mix of varieties. This is not a new idea, nor is it completely absent from Australian wine, but it remains rare.

This, then, stands out like the proverbial dog’s balls. Let me count the ways in which it differs from the mainstream: it’s a wine of New England, with nary a grape variety listed on the (front) label and, when one discovers what varieties are in it, there’s an unlikely mix of Petit Verdot, Barbera, Nebbiolo and Tannat. Sui generis.

This is as close to blind tasting as I’ve come without, you know, actually tasting blind. I had no idea what to expect, but the aroma’s absence of expressive fruit still came as something of a surprise. This is a dark, muscular, somewhat closed nose at present. There are hints of black berry fruit, spice, snapped twig and baked goods. I find it somewhat inscrutable, in fact, which is no bad thing. There’s certainly enough density, complexity and coherence to hint at significant potential.

The palate is similarly intriguing and fiercely structured. Both acid and tannin are prominent, which isn’t surprising given the presence of Barbera and Tannat in the mix. The same dark, savoury fruit flavour profile seen on the nose is very much present here, but it runs underneath the wine’s structural framework for now, like a bubbling underground stream. Again, density is a feature and, without any experience of this label, I suggest a bit of age will be kind to it. The after palate is the most generous moment in the wine’s line, where fruit is allowed to bulge slightly before tightening again in a highly structured finish.

A brave, and in many ways successful, wine.

Update: day 2 and the wine is opening up in the most interesting ways. It has become quite floral, with rose petal and Turkish Delight distinct notes on the nose. Fascinating.

Topper’s Mountain
Price: $A38
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Sample

Dowie Doole Chenin Blanc 2012

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Dowie Doole is, somewhat daringly, a Chenin Blanc specialist when it comes to white wines. This isn’t entirely without precedent in the McLaren Vale, but remains unusual by any measure. This label, the standard Chenin, has evolved over the past few vintages to the point where it far outstrips its price tag in quality terms. Each year seems to bring greater nuance, more complexity, tighter stylistic focus; the current release continues this line.

It can be hard to know what to expect from Chenin, so divergent are the styles that can be crafted from this fickle, homesick grape. Dowie Doole takes its inspiration from Loire models, emphasising the varietal’s tension between apple fruit and nervy, mineral acid. Hence, although the nose promises some lusciousness of character, there’s an underlying savouriness, quite prickly and vivacious, that, for me, is the true feature of this wine. The aroma profile moves between apple flesh, the barest hint of tropical fruit, and the smell of rain on hot rocks. Unsettling and beautiful.

The palate delivers what the aroma suggests; a deceptively fruit-forward entry gives way to a much more complex, sweet-savoury middle palate, supported by deliciously vibrant acidity. I’d love to think Sauvignon Blanc is a gateway drug to this sort of wine, something equally refreshing but with an altogether more unusual flavour profile. The after palate sings with savouriness and apple skins, before a clean, fresh finish enlivens the mouth.

I can’t quite believe this is only $16 retail. It would be value at twice the price and strikes me as the best Dowie Doole Chenin Blanc (excluding the fascinating Tintookie wines) I’ve yet tasted.

Dowie Doole
Price: $A16
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Sample

Offcuts: Blue Poles dinner

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Wine dinners aren’t something I make a habit of; at least, not those run by producers. It’s not an in principle objection – I simply prefer, most of the time, a wider range of wines with dinner than might be offered by a single maker. The temptation of back vintages and verticals, however, can be strong, as can the promise of highly amusing company. Mark Gifford from Blue Poles Vineyard is most certainly that, so it was with pleasure that I attended the recent Blue Poles dinner in Brisbane.

The boutique producer’s dilemma must seem intractable at times: what to produce? How to get noticed? Whose attention to court? I won’t venture to suggest I have any answers, but I know I respond to a focused portfolio that communicates identity and intent rather than a wide range of wines that, together, lack coherence. Although it contains a highly drinkable Viognier and Shiraz, the Blue Poles portfolio stands out for its beautiful, uncompromising Bordeaux-inspired wines, as well as a quirky Teroldego.

Dinner was the first time I have tasted all the Blue Poles Reserve Merlots side by side, and they really do justify the praise I and many other wine writers have given them. The 2007 is by far the richest of the three and is starting to show an aged character that meshes superbly with its primary fruit. Very Bordeaux-like, this one, and quite mouthfilling. The 2008 and 2010 are both very tight, still, and it took about half an hour of swirling to coax from the 2010 more than the aroma of iron filings. When it did start to unfold, I felt it was the most precise wine of the three. The way it lands in the mouth, articulating its flavours with such clarity, is truly impressive. They keep getting better, these Merlots and, although there isn’t a great deal of competition, they are surely amongst the best of this varietal made in Australia.

The Allouran, a Merlot Cabernet Franc blend, is a lighter wine, less masculine than the straight Merlot. Both the 2007 and 2008 seem quite primary, with fresh fruit and bright, acid-driven structures. I can see these being overlooked in favour of the Merlot, but for my taste their flavour profiles show a light and shade that is subtle and attractive. Quite unforced as a style.

There was some discussion regarding the clear influence exerted by Bordeaux on these wines. Blue Poles has never been shy of admitting this stylistic lineage, and is far from the only producer to explicitly claim Old World wines as a starting point. However, what is emerging from the portfolio over time is a coherence on its own terms. These wines don’t taste like imitations of something else, despite strong nods to classic models. I look forward to further releases and the ongoing conversation between style and terroir.

The new release Teroldego is a fascinating interpretation of the “drink now” red wine. What often typifies this category of wine is a simplicity and fruit-forwardness the Teroldego almost entirely lacks. Its argument, rather, is one of chewy tannin, charismatic masculinity and an apparent absence of fruit. To be sure, dark berry fruit underlines the flavour profile, but it’s so joyously secondary that one is drawn immediately to other aspects of the wine. Despite this, it’s highly drinkable, a term not often associated with primarily structural wines. A contradiction, then, in all sorts of ways, and one I look forward to drinking again.

Dowie Doole Cabernet Sauvignon 2010

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I have it in my mind that I’m not very fond of Cabernet Sauvignon from places like the Barossa Valley and the McLaren Vale, a notion that seems of late to be in regular friction with the truth. Indeed, I keep coming across rather tasty examples of these styles.

It’s rather a pleasant task to change one’s mind when faced with a wine like this. I’ve been loving many 2010 McLaren Vale reds that have crossed my path, and this is no exception. Yet this is more surprising than most, because it sits at a price point that is one step above an inexpensive quaffer, a position that can yield disappointingly populist styles.

There’s a striking degree of elegance to the aroma: bright fruit, angular red capsicum, varietal dust. Not at all the simple drinker I thought it might be, but never losing the ease that is a hallmark of this maker’s wines. There’s not a lick of industrial winemaking in the way this smells. I feel a direct connection to the vineyard that’s rare at any price point, let alone in a red costing $25.

The palate is beautifully weighted – not too heavy, not insubstantial, acid-driven yet with a smattering of drying tannins. The flavour profile is clear and fresh, vibrant red fruit winding around more savoury varietal notes and light touch oak. Intensity is moderate, as is density of fruit. It’s not often Cabernet tastes casual, but this does. Its trick, though, is in being all these things — drinkable, approachable, inviting — without ever being dumb. Everything in moderation seems here to add up to a most attractive wine, and I sense straightforwardness and honesty in every drop.

This isn’t a $60 wine masquerading as something cheaper, but it never uses its affordability as an excuse either. Very much a Dowie Doole wine.

Dowie Doole
Price: $A25
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Sample

Grosset Springvale Riesling 2010

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An inevitable companion to the Polish Hill. I’m having an easier time with this wine and, as I imagine it was on release, this is the more accessible, friendlier style.

Sometimes, I feel that we value difficulty in wine — if it’s a bit challenging, then it must be more sophisticated, more adult. This is far from a facile wine, but its approachability does beg the question: of two lovely Rieslings, which might be better, and why? Conventional wisdom often suggests the Polish Hill’s delicacy and finesse should win, and I have some sympathy for that view. But this is just plain fun to drink, while retaining the complexity and sophistication that rewards contemplative drinking. It’s just got more meat on its bones, and more swing in its backside. Not bad things.

The aroma’s thick, slightly juicy citrus character embrace hints of bottle age where the Polish Hill’s icy figure seemed to regard them with horror. This aroma is, if not luxurious, then at least harmonious: pulpy lemon and honey, micro herbs and sunlight soap. It’s just plain fun to smell, even though I’m even more excited to revisit it again in a few years’ time.

The palate structure is beautifully balanced – a clever interplay of chalky texture, fine acid and weighty fruit. These three sides take turns on top as the wine moves down the tongue, coating the mouth with intense flavour while freshening the palate at the same time. I like the savouriness of the after palate and finish very much; it’s quite herbal and grippy. So nice to see a Riesling that celebrates texture as much as pure fruit. My only criticism is a slight heaviness at the front of the mouth, as if the lusciousness of the fruit momentarily breaks out of the wine’s structure, only to be pulled right back again.

Delicious Riesling and yet another example — as if it were required — of our great way with this grape.

Grosset
Price: $35 (ish)
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Retail

Grosset Polish Hill Riesling 2010

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I never tasted this on release, which is a shame. Pure laziness; I bought some fairly quickly, but it lay dormant in wine storage until recently. Working backwards from how it tastes now, I can imagine how it was as a newborn — powdery, angular, mineral. These sides of the wine are still very much in evidence, but age is making its contribution too. The result is, shall we say, transitional.

And a little odd, too. It’s easy to relax lazily into the idea that wine ought to, and always does, taste coherent in terms of its array of flavours. This goes with that goes with this; wine as a mid-priced women’s clothing store. This wine, though, shakes me out of my stupor, because its flavours clash and produce dissonance, tension, even ugliness. Uncompromising signs of youth bump up against prickly tertiary notes that want to be softer but aren’t capable of fullness, not yet.

The palate is where this wine’s future most clearly expresses itself. After the aggressive interplay of the aroma, the palate allows darts of sweet honey to weave in and out of what remains a bright, savoury, testy flavour profile. This promise of fullness softens the hardest edges and coats them in nectar, like golden syrup on ice. One eventually bites into the ice, of course, but the sweetness lingers and its promise is tantalising. The wine’s sophisticated, chalky texture provides appropriately adult support.

I’ll try this again in two or three years’ time.

Grosset
Price: $A40 (ish)
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Retail

Tyrrell's Vat 9 Shiraz 2006

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The last few days have been spent blowing my nose, coughing and generally moping about. One of the boring things about being sick is that one can’t really enjoy much of anything, so all the spare time that results tends to go to waste. I still feel under the weather, but I thought I’d open a familiar wine, one that I’ve tasted twice before, to see if it might lift my spirits. Just one small glass, you understand.

I’d forgotten the richness these drought-era Hunters possess, and this wine is a potent reminder of how vintage conditions allowed a concentrated, almost liquerous expression of Shiraz to come forth. On opening, I was a little overwhelmed and thought the wine too much, too dense and too monolithic. That has changed fairly quickly, though, and the region’s typicité is very much in evidence here. This is simply a bigger version of the style. With a bit of air and swirling, the wall of liqueur breaks down into a variety of flavour components, some speaking of the heat of the year, others showing delicious freshness and vivacity. Tertiary flavours are starting to creep in, but these are very much in the background, and the wine retains large volumes of primary fruit. It’s interesting that the latest Tyrrell’s mailer suggests this is now a “mature style, drinking well.” I agree with the latter, but am not so sure of the former.

The palate’s luxe meshes well with the relatively rich flavour profile that flows coherently from the nose. Structurally, this is quite relaxed, though possessing abundant tannins, fine and velvet-like. Acid, often a hallmark of Hunter Shiraz, seems muted at first, but is very present; the wine’s density masks it at first. Flavours are of red fruits and leather, earth and gentle spice. So typical, so correct. Also quite nuanced, though it can be hard, at times, to see past the wine’s power. A lovely, even line leads through to a finish that sings with soft fruit.

This is a gorgeous wine in all sorts of ways – its sensuality, its transparency, its truth. I raise a glass to those of us with some in our cellars.

Tyrrell’s
Price: $A32
Closure: Cork
Source: Retail