Mount Avoca Shiraz 2009

I recently had an interesting conversation with Jeremy of the newly reborn Wine Will Eat Itself 2 (The Main Course) about the use of whole bunches in a particular Grampians Shiraz we were tasting together. I reacted very strongly, negatively, to the way the wine was made, because I felt the stalks intruded on the character of the fruit in a distractingly unsympathetic way. Just as some flavours naturally go together, this wine showed me that some flavours don’t, or at least that they should be handled sensitively, subtly, to enhance the overall flavour profile of the wine.

This wine reminds me of that conversation, not because it has an obvious whole bunch influence, but because it shows the clear influence of another component that has become so much more common in Australian Shiraz over the past ten years: Viognier. To my palate, Viognier can be a seductively positive component in many Shirazes, adding perfume and texture and whole layers of additional complexity. Tip it over the edge, though; and there are a few ways in which winemakers seem to have managed to do this; and it can utterly ruin a wine, cheapening its flavour profile and adding an unattractive gloss to its texture. This wine really treads on the edge for me, and ultimately tips over to the dark side. To be clear, it’s completely well made and, as these things go, a damn good drink.

The nose shows earthy, savoury Shiraz characters alongside a bit of dusty chocolate and perhaps some mint. It’s meaty and a bit peppery and all sorts of good things. Rising above it is a nice floral lilt, brightening the aroma profile and adding a sweetness to it that would be entirely positive if it didn’t, each time I smell it, seem a step apart from the earthy savouriness the wine otherwise displays.

The palate is a bit more clearcut; I simply don’t like the way its mouthfeel is smoothed out and pumped up, though I admit that it’s superbly glossy at the same time. This is where personal preference plays so much into wine appreciation; for me, the incredibly seductive savoury rusticity of the Shiraz fruit ought to be the feature here. And it is, or at least tries to be, but is consistently shoved aside by that damned Viognier, all pretty and siliconed up, smoothing away any rough edges and masking what is, for me, the very centre of attraction of this wine.

I’d be curious to taste this with others, as I suspect it would be tremendously popular with a lot of people. It’s flavoursome, clean, texturally slick and just plain generous. Alas, though, the style just isn’t for me.

Mount Avoca
Price: $A27
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Sample

Sandstone Cellars III

First off, allow me to note that I did not pay full retail for this wine. A couple of years ago, I had to travel to San Angelo, Texas to do some work at a local hospital. It was cheaper to fly to Austin and drive, so I did; I passed Sandstone Cellars on the way over to San Angelo, thought it looked kinda interesting, got my work done there, and stopped in on the way back. I thought the wine was damned good and bought a bottle; leaving Mason, the town where the winery’s located, I checked my email and saw that they’d sent an email a few hours earlier, so I made a U-turn and headed back to the winery to chat a bit more. They offered the bottle at half price; I met them half way, and that’s the story here. So: I paid $30, which – now that I’ve finally opened the bottle – feels like I ripped them off for $10.

Right. First time I’ve had this wine, second Sandstone Cellars wine I’ve ever tasted. What’s it like?The first impression I get is of whatever you call the tea leaf equivalent of coffee grounds. If you make a pot of tea – and I’m thinking something malty like, say, Assam – and leave the used tea leaves aside, they tend to smell like this, especially if (say) someone’s made lavender Earl Grey out of them; think vanilla, orange blossoms, just a touch of smoke and cedary wood. It’s lovely, and it doesn’t remind me of anywhere else I can think of. Nice to see that the second bottle I’ve had from Mason County is as idiosyncratic as the first: both have been of uniformly high quality, and it seems that Don Pullum, the winemaker (do check out his Twitter feed if you haven’t), is definitely onto something here.

And how does it taste? First off, it’s tannic (still). Firm, dusty, blocky tannins a go go. It’s also nicely acidic; the overall mouthfeel doesn’t approach the silky smooth California profile I’m used to (think higher alcohol and a bit of residual sugar). Fruit’s here too, thankfully: more than anything, I taste Zinfandel, but the label tells me we’re mostly working with Mataro here; I don’t sense the Mataro particularly save for the smoky-floral notes on the nose. To me, this wine shows a real tension between the fruit, tannin, and acidity; although there’s plenty to love about the vanillin, cherry-blackberry fruit, it’s slightly attenuated by the acidity (think food wine). That being said, part of what makes this wine such a pleasure is its tension: it’s the vinuous equivalent of a tritone.

The finish… yes, Dorothy, there is a finish, and it’s very Bach: four part harmony all the way down. Sweet fruit, nervy acidity, lingering tannins, and spice, not staying in any one key too long before nervously jumping to the next.Sitting here thinking about this wine (and the people that made it), I find myself wondering if there’s a place in most folks’ wine cellars for this kind of thing. Looking at CellarTracker, for example, I see that there’s less than a dozen bottles of every wine they make represented on the Internet. They don’t ship to California, I couldn’t find a bottle in Dallas to save my life last year, and this kinda bothers me. Look, I know I’m something of a hipster when it comes to wine: I prefer the experimental over the tried-and-true, I’m always up for things I haven’t heard of from places I can’t pronounce, and novelty is more interesting to me than safety. Part of this is of course financial: unlike my Dad, I grew up in a world where first growth Bordeaux costs as much as a month’s rent. Much of my drinking has necessarily been local or obscure: if you can’t afford Pingus, might as well make the best of Bierzo.

Even more: as a Californian, I’ve always been especially open to things that are (strictly speaking) unique to my region and my cultural traditions. Field blends (‘mixed blacks’) for example: drinking something like that is a tangible link to the past I share with everyone else in this state, and I honestly believe that’s there no reason why that shouldn’t stand tall compared to other countries’ traditions (be it Hunter semillon or autochtonous Georgian grapes fermented in clay amphorae). And when I come across something like this wine, I really do get excited at the possibility that someone, a pioneer, may be discovering (crafting?) something new, something specifically Texan, something that a hundred years from now will be as well known as, say, California Zinfandel, something that’s universally recognized as Texan.If so, this a damn good start.

Sandstone Cellars
Price: $40
Closure: Cork
Source: Retail

Mike Press Shiraz 2010

The story of Mike Press Wines is atypical in many respects. After bursting onto the scene a few years ago with some great show results and a price point totally at odds with the quality of its wines, Mike Press has done what few wines lovers, in our collective cynicism, probably didn’t expect: he improved things even further. In my view, the last five years has seen a consistent refinement of the reds in particular, honing oak character while retaining excellent expression of fruit. Denoting a wine as “single vineyard” may seem pretentious at this price point, but it’s entirely justified, and one approaches these wines best by being thankful for their affordability and then forgetting cost altogether.

This wine has a balance of fruit and oak that wasn’t quite achieved a few years ago, but which now prompts a dense, concentrated aroma of brambles, brown spice, subtle vegetal notes and squished berries to waft from the glass. Inevitably in such a young wine, a couple of the elements aren’t fully integrated, but it’s impressively coherent nonetheless, especially in terms of the way the oak’s influence weaves into the fabric of the fruit, supporting and spicing it well.

The palate comes across as rich and full, quite fruit driven, but with a decent structural framework and a consequent sense of orderliness underlying the whole. Quite plush on entry, a tumble of very ripe plums and blackberries moves through to the middle palate. I like how clean the fruit is here, without being simple or in any way confected. On the after palate, well balanced acid and velvety tannins start to take over, adding texture to the mouthfeel and some welcome nerviness to the vibe. A decent finish, full of sweet tannins and vanilla oak flavours.

A really nice release of this wine, showing a fullness of fruit in particular that should be utterly crowd pleasing.

Mike Press
Price: $13-14
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Sample

Mitchell Harris Shiraz 2009

Unlike the unusual Sangiovese just reviewed, this wine represents a classic Pyrenees style and one that drinkers will approach with justifiably high expectations. As with all regions in the Western Victoria Zone, the Pyrenees seems to be both highly regarded and perennially underrated, the kind of place wine nerds go nuts over but one that seems to lack the profile of many other Australian regions, large and small. This is certainly a true example of the style, the aroma throwing typically rich, dark fruit and the characteristic note of eucalypt that polarises some. For me, it adds a rustic, slightly hard edge to the aroma profile that is neither positive nor particularly negative; it’s just regional. Here, it is augmented by some evident whole bunch fermentation, which meshes well with the greener aspects of the aroma. There’s a prickliness too that adds complexity and dimension, leading further down through more clean, liquid fruit to a base of well-balanced, straightforward oak. A dash of Viognier makes itself felt through a pretty lift of florals, not enough to corrupt the character of the wine but certainly noticeable.The palate is generous without being in any way outsize. Entry is superbly clean, a lovely dash of savoury berry fruit flooding the mouth and gaining complexity along the way. Sexy oak, eucalyptus, stalk, vanilla; it’s all very easy to drink without being simple or confected. The palate structure is relatively easygoing, cruising along nicely until late in the after palate, where a firmer skeleton of tannin finally emerges, lightly drying the mouth and adding textural interest. The finish is a tad hard right now, with what seems like stalk contributing a rawness to the mouthfeel.  This might benefit from a short rest in bottle — perhaps a year or two — to settle and lose its edge. Rather delicious wine. Mitchell Harris
Price: $A29.95
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Sample

Mitchell Harris Sangiovese 2010

Sangiovese is an interesting varietal in the Australian context. Early attempts tended towards Shirazification in style; whether this is a good or a bad thing probably depends on whether you feel adherence to Old World stylistic models represents the path to quality. As I back away from that particular can of worms, I will note that I have enjoyed the robust tannin structure and bright fruit character of many a Chianti, and wouldn’t say no to a few Australian Sangioveses that had these elements alongside whatever our local conditions might add.

Happily, this wine fits broadly within these ideas of style. The nose shows very bright red fruit, somewhat confected perhaps, but clean and varietal. There are some lightly reductive notes around the edges that, in my view, contribute positive complexity to the aroma profile, which would be otherwise a little simple. Oak, old-smelling and nougat-like in character, flits around the edges without ever intruding on a core of cherry fruit notes.

The palate is where this wine comes alive, quickly showcasing a tannin-driven structure that is pleasingly firm. Fruit first, though, which lands fast on entry and moves quickly through to the middle palate, all brightness and crunch. Structurally, this is where acid has a primary role, and it’s certainly bright, though not so much as to compete with tannin later in the line. Again, the fruit is a bit confected, creating a sense of simplicity of flavour. Body is light to medium, movement brisk, all befitting a wine that should be drunk with food rather than on its own.

I can imagine this going down a treat at lunchtime on the weekend, it’s that sort of casual, “throw it back” style. If some work were done to the fruit character of this wine to tame its brighter, simpler side, this would be even better.

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

Wynns Black Label Cabernet Sauvignon 2003

Trawling back through the Full Pour archives, I see I never wrote this up on release, which was rather remiss of me. This wine brought me back to Wynns Black Label, and I remember enjoying its generosity and correctness at the time. Tasting it again now, the impression remains one of correctness and regional character.

The nose is immediately varietal, showing oodles of the (to me) deliciously leafy side of Coonawarra Cabernet, if also a tad too much oak to be considered totally balanced at this point. Beyond this, a surge of clean cassis emerges through the aroma profile along with an edge of blackberries, edging past fully ripe into jammy territory. Not distractingly so, though; just enough to suggest a fairly generous interpretation of this regional style.

The palate resists outsize scale, instead remaining fairly linear. Flavour registers early on entry, dark fruits cascading over the tongue towards a mellifluous middle palate that sings briefly before fine, chalky tannins assert themselves. This isn’t even close to being a fully resolved wine, which befits the style but also means tannin freaks, like me, will still find plenty to enjoy here, even after several years of bottle age. The after palate continues in this structured vein, fruit compressed somewhat as a result, before a lengthy, oak-driven finish rounds off the line. Clean, sinewy, restrained; this is Cabernet very much in the classic mould, a hint of extra-ripe fruit the only question mark over its form.

Very, very good.

Wynns
Price: $A30
Closure: Cork
Source: Retail

Clonakilla Hilltops Shiraz 2002

The lottery of old wine. Chris tasted this a couple of years ago and, it appears, was unlucky enough to encounter a Brett-affected bottle. I can see a very low level of the taint here too, but I’m not finding it in any way distracting, which leaves all the beautiful, interesting aspects of the wine noted by Chris firmly intact. This is a fascinating wine.

Despite being a $20 wine that’s coming up for ten years of age, and one that was pretty approachable on release as well, this doesn’t strike me as overly developed. It’s showing bottle age, for sure, but the nose remains thick with dark, savoury fruit in addition to rich spice and cedar oak. It’s such a dense aroma, luxurious and almost tactile in its detail and texture.

The palate’s most impressive dimension is definitely its mouthful and structure, which Chris describes well in his note and which strikes me as hitting an ideal balance between shape and flow. Some wines articulate cleanly but tend towards nerviness, others sacrifice precision for easy movement; this just gets it right. Flavours are dark and full, combining black berry fruits with tobacco, brown spice, quite glossy oak and a range of aged notes that bubble to the surface on the middle and after palates. The finish resonates with spice and oak, and goes on for a good long time.

Excellent drinking.

Clonakilla
Price: $NA
Closure: Cork
Source: Retail

Angullong Bull's Roar Tempranillo 2010

Tempranillo is new enough to Australia that trying a new one is still a lottery; in terms of quality, in terms of style. I admit to never having tasted one from the Orange/Central Ranges areas, so was curious to see what Angullong, a maker of solid, cleanly commercial wines, might do with the variety.

At first, the nose presents a hit of the sort of confected, carbonic maceration derived fruit character that, I regret to say, is a big turnoff for me. While it calms with time, the essential character of this wine stays true to that first impression: this is Tempranillo made for mass appeal. For a varietal that can, at times, be quite meaty and challenging, the aroma profile here is remarkably accessible, a hint of cola the only suggestion of savouriness. There’s also some cuddly vanilla, signalling a friendly approach to oak treatment.

The palate is rather acid-driven in structure, bringing additional sunlight to what is an already bright fruit profile. Red boiled lollies and tart berry skins are first to appear, followed by a welcome dose of twiggy, vegetal sappiness and a smattering of prickly tannins. It’s not an especially distinctive or complex flavour profile, but it’s different enough from a typical Shiraz or Cabernet to provide some interest. It’s an open question for me whether Tempranillo is best served by this style; I’d like to see less bright fruit, less oak, and a bit more difference. However, someone looking for an easygoing yet “different” wine may find a lot to like here.

Angullong
Price: $A25
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Sample

Meerea Park Alexander Munro Shiraz 2009

This is serious Hunter Shiraz. Compared to the De Iuliis Steven Vineyard Shiraz tasted recently, this single vineyard wine has an altogether more intense vibe, and one might suggest this is appropriate given its price point.

Neatly, this is both ultra-premium and totally drinkable, a balancing act that surprisingly few wines manage. The key here is that, despite a decent dose of very classy oak, this remains quite fruit driven, a strikingly intense burst of red fruit at the core of its personality. The nose first, though, which at first was too bound up to be truly pleasurable, but which relaxes with about an hour in the glass. When it does, the most fabulous, liqueurous plum and cherry fruit emerges, along with a spice profile that’s part oak and, surprisingly, a peppery part that recalls cooler climate Shiraz. There’s also a distinctly meaty dimension. It’s cohesive and generous and really luxurious, just a delight.

The palate goes through a similar transformation, initially fruitless but quickly evolving into a model of intense shapeliness. If one thing stands out above all else with this wine, it’s the precision with which it articulates its flavours, never losing composure, always maintaining form and poise. Clean black and red fruits, cedar, spice, vanilla, not very much earth. The acid takes a primary structural role, sweet tannins backing up through the after palate and finish. It’s not so structured as to be forbidding, but certainly seems set for medium term ageing (three to five year) at least.

Such a different wine from the equally excellent De Iuliis and indeed many other 2009 Hunter Shirazes, this strikes me as an essential expression of the style.

Meerea Park
Price: $A75
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Sample

Mount Avoca Merlot 2009

And so I return from university sans a few layers of tooth enamel after tasting my way through a week’s worth of wines with solidly pedagogical intent; not entirely a pleasure, but I do feel in the zone. I may write up some of those tastings later on but, for now, I’m eager to try this new Mount Avoca release and see how it fits into the confusing, incoherent, yet lovable landscape that is Australian Merlot.

Thankfully, it doesn’t occupy the little stagnant pond where overripe Merlot goes to ferment and die. No, this is satisfyingly savoury on first sniff, with nary a hint of crassly pumped up fruit, an impression reinforced by tasting. Quite dark in character, the aroma presents black fruits and sour cherries, twigs and brown spice. It’s quite a generous nose and, at the same time, one that communicates restraint, as if the fullness of the fruit is somehow kept in check. Oak handling is especially good here, adding complexity and framing the fruit sympathetically.

The palate is quite friendly, and it’s here the wine becomes more like what some drinkers may expect from New World Merlot. There’s a softness to the black berry fruit that registers early on the palate and expands through the middle, at which point vanilla and spice oak pick up the line. Acid is certainly present but not firm enough to bring things out of relaxed territory. Tannins do a bit more in this regard as they settle on the tongue through the after palate and lightly dry the finish. What really makes this wine for me is the decided savouriness of the fruit; it turns what might have been a caricatured style into something adult and interesting.

Mount Avoca
Price: $A27
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Sample