Grosset Springvale Riesling 2009

Née Watervale. 

Amongst the many things for which I enjoy Riesling, one of the recurring highlights of a particularly good one is the directness with which it communicates its quality. Personally, I find quality one of the less tangible aspects of wine, intersecting (and at times contradicting) other considerations like drinkability and style. Somehow, though, I find with Riesling that an increase in quality tends to align with an increase in my enjoyment, and I think part of it is the somewhat facile satisfaction I obtain from being able to clearly grasp what makes a good Riesling so good. At least, I flatter myself this ability. 
Take this Grosset wine, which is bloody good. It’s complex, and as I sniff the wine and take in this complexity, I remind myself that’s all there is. No oak, apparently straightforward winemaking; it’s just fruit character shining forth. This is a case, surely, of minimalist winemaking enhancing terroir (not, I believe, something to be regarded as a truism, but that’s another post for another time). Though less exhuberant than the 2008 vintage, there’s an obvious family resemblance, with a range of high toned notes overlaying deeper, almost tropical fruits and detailed citrus aromas. Great balance, interest and style. 
The palate shows the youthful impact for which this label is known, placing relatively full, rich fruit in a framework of textured, slatey acidity and etched complexity. The entry is like a wedge; it starts from nothing and works its way confidently to a bright middle palate filled with flavour, beautiful texture and the kind of drape normally reserved for high end couture. It’s the facted angularity of its architecture as much as any other, more prosaic dimension that satisfies me here. And, to be hyper-critical, the intellectualism associated with this style might get in the way of purely sensual appreciation. I tend to think, though, that bottle age might cure any such faults, if one were to find them distracting. Personally, I love that it drags me to a higher level of appreciation as a taster. If only more wines held drinkers in such high regard.

Grosset
Price: $A31
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Retail

Groom Sauvignon Blanc 2008

James Halliday thinks this is the best sauvignon blanc in Australia.Sadly, it smells mostly of kraft paper, banana peels, and girls’ Olsen Twins perfume – there’s a strange, plastic-y fake fruit smell here that is somewhat unsettling. Acidity is good, but the mouthfeel is somewhat strange – it reminds me of cheap ice cream with an overdose of carrageenan –  and the finish is reminiscent of cheap imitation almond extract and the taste left in your mouth after playing a wax paper comb for too long at summer camp.Honestly, I don’t get this wine. Sauvignon blanc isn’t riesling: if needs something other than itself in the bottle unless it’s grown in Sancerre or Marlborough, I reckon. What could have been an elegant wine is undone by the lack of oak or other winemaker input that would have attenuated the inherently boring characteristics of the grape; I don’t think that this terroir is enough in and of itself to create a wine of interest. Yes, there are absolutely brilliant wines from the Adelaide Hills, but in my experience they tend to be chardonnays which benefit from some creative input on the part of the winemaker. The fruit is good; I’d just like to see something more complex than what’s in this bottle.Groom
Price: $13
Closure: Cork

Green Point Chardonnay 2005

A lovely, pale yellow color, bright and clean, this wine looks like your garden variety cheap chardonnay. However, one sniff and you realize you’re dealing with something a lot nicer than what the price would lead you to expect. It’s got a lovely burnt matchstick, slightly sulfurous nose that makes you think Burgundy, not cheap Aussie imports. There are also hints of sea salt and butterscotch, spun sugar and lemon zest. Pretty awesome, to be honest.On the palate, there’s lively acidity leading the charge here, tempering itself quickly into a fairly weighty mid-palate with hints of marzipan and fresh-baked bread, again changing into lemon curd and shortbread on the finish. It’s all extremely delicious, very much more-ish (as they say), and honestly one of the better chardonnays I’ve had in a while. In terms of the obligatory French comparison, this is more a Chablis than anything else, with nervy, lemony acidity dominating over any of the yeasty, oaky characteristics.Entirely delicious and a ridiculous deal at just under $8 Australian, this is probably the best white wine deal I know of at the moment. They had a truckload or so at the San Diego Wine Company when I was there two weeks ago: if they still have some, now’s the time to stock up. This could easily last another two to three years, so if you’ve got space, don’t hold back.Domaine Chandon
Price: $7
Closure: Stelvin

Lake's Folly Chardonnay 2008

The first Lake’s Folly Chardonnay under screwcap. 

Characteristically Folly on the nose, with complexity aligned to a sense of balance and subtlety. It seems lighter and less opulent than the 2007, which was quite a powerhouse in relative terms. This, on the other hand, is veiled and delicate, with a similar aroma profile expressing itself on different terms. It also smells very young, with some overly bright edges that should fall back into the wine with a few more months in bottle. 
The palate confirms a svelte silhouette; a taut balancing act between youthful structure and a flavour profile that aches to break free of its acidic confines. A sophisticated entry, tingling with fine acidity and a thread of classy minerality. Moderately intense peach, lychee and citrus fruit begins to emerge towards the middle palate, along with some subtle cream and caramel inputs. The mouthfeel follows a notable line, beginning with a textured burst of acid then transforming seamlessly to a glossy platform for the flavour components. It’s fascinating. The after palate shows greater oak influence and a curiously leafy flavour, before the finish takes one on a peachy keen ride to deep satisfaction.
It’s young and probably needs some time to show at its best, but I do love it. A light, bright expression of the Lake’s Folly vineyard.

Lake’s Folly
Price: $A55
Closure: Stelvin

Morandé Reserva Chardonnay 2006

Sometimes, a string of busy days leaves you with few reserves towards the end of the week. I’m in that space right now, and wasn’t sure what to open tonight. There’s lamb on the stove, but somehow I don’t feel like the robust Shiraz that, in most cases, would be an obvious choice. No, tonight I need some space, and am taking a chance on this Chilean Chardonnay. Another Southern Cross Wines import. 

There’s no lamer descriptor than “grapey” (ok, “smooth” comes close), but sometimes you just need to call it how it is. And this smells instantly, unashamedly like fresh grape juice. That’s not all there is, but the point is it’s fresh and sunny in ways one might ordinarily associate with Australian wine. There are certainly complexities to the aroma profile; a hint of wheat, a little nougat oak, and some more tropical fruit like papaya. But this wine’s value seems to lie in the straightforward expression of its attractive fruit. So far so good.
The palate is unexpectedly acidic; in fact, it seems a little unbalanced to me and, as a result, quite nervy. On the plus side, it has good impact on entry, with a sizzling mouthfeel and bright, clean fruit. The line widens progressively until it reaches a mid-palate of quite gushy fruit, underlined by that chalky acidity. There’s no shortage of flavour, including some oak and winemaking influence that is caramel-like in nature. The flavour profile itself is straightforward and attractive, tending to leanness in terms of its character. A lightfooted after palate leads to more reverberant flavour through the finish. The finish itself is a highlight, and goes on for much longer than it has any right to. 
A lighter style, then. Structurally, I’m not convinced that it hangs together, due mostly to the character and volume of the acidity. The clean fruit flavours, though, keep me coming back. A good Summer white, and keenly priced.

Morandé
Price: $A20
Closure: Cork

Simply Sunshine White 2009

From my perspective, this is a curio: an inexpensive white wine made for the German market. I was sent samples by the apparently indefatigable Leigh Gilligan, whose various ventures enjoy strong distribution, and seem to resonate strongly, in Germany. The interest for me, apart from the wine itself, is the marketing approach, which draws explicitly on Australia’s reputation for “sunshine in a bottle” wine styles. While this approach is now hotly contested in the local industry, there’s no doubt Australian wine is known in export markets largely for this type of wine, so if nothing else I’m eager to taste wines with a claim to representing the style and, hence, a certain face of the industry.

The interest in terms of what’s in the bottle relates to a particular concept of wine at this price point, something Chris recently touched on. He described a certain kind of wine as “fermented grape juice beverage product;” drinks that are technically wine but stylistically about as far as you can get from the generally accepted definition. Of course, I’m applying a massive, snobby value judgement to this description, even though I have no desire or ability to argue with the enjoyment many gain from imbibing [yellow tail]. Then again, what I do have is a desire for authenticity at all price points, and I believe well-priced wine does not need to taste like an industrial, wine-flavoured beverage.
I’m vindicated in this belief by this wine, at least. It’s not a secret Grange by any means, but it looks, smells and taste like real wine. It’s easygoing, with bubblegum florals, a bit of sharp citrus and sweeter, rounder fruit that oddly reminds me of Lipton’s peach iced tea.  There are no varieties listed on the bottle, and from the aroma profile I thought there was some Rhone action in there, but no, it’s mostly Chardonnay with a splash of Sauvignon Blanc and Chenin Blanc. The palate is soft and cuddly. More peach tea, a hint of crisper florals and, well, not a lot else. So complexity isn’t a high point, nor is it the aim I should imagine. Rather, this wine delivers generosity, a round mouthfeel of satisfying viscosity and perhaps just a hint of residual sugar to help it go down. It’s a bit low in acid, which translates to a somewhat clumsy progression through the mouth, if not outright flab. But it’s hard to argue with the tasty flavour profile here. 
Great barbeque wine. Nicely done.

Simply Sunshine
Price: €5.45
Closure: Stelvin

Tesco Finest Great Southern Riesling 2002

“This wine will improve if carefully stored for up to 3 years from purchase,” it says on the back of the bottle… and I bought it something like six and a half years ago. Whoops. Thankfully, though, it doesn’t seem to be a problem, although the nose is definitely full on kero funky and somewhat of a shock. It’s also got notes of grapefruit rind, minerals, and honey, but mostly it just smells kind of bad in that “yeah, I know, but it’s going to taste better than it smells, right?” kind of way.Does it? Well… yes, but it’s beyond pretty much anything I’ve tasted before. If anything, it tastes like cosmetic jars from an antique store; there’s a hint of face cream or jasmine or something here, but in just barely perceptible amounts. Still, though, there’s just enough sugar (or the perception of sweetness) to mix with the strenuous acidity and offer up something that is thankfully still appealing. Not particularly complex, and not particularly aromatic, it’s still ticking along just fine at this point and makes a great accompaniment to hummus or a Portuguese octopus stew.Howard Park

Closure: Stelvin

Clonakilla Riesling 2009

I tremble whenever a Clonakilla newsetter arrives, as much at the anticipation of its new releases as their unfortunate effect on my wallet. Yes, I’m somewhat of a junkie. I have especially enjoyed the Riesling over many vintages and consider Canberra Riesling in general one of our more interesting regional expressions of this variety. 

To this fresh one, then, the nose seems quite typical at first, with floral, bath salt-like aromas, the strange of impression of chalk dust and very little of the full-throttle citrus juice that can characterise this variety from some other Australian regions. It’s actually quite piercing; almost aggressive, more so than I recall of previous vintages. The exhuberance of youth, perhaps, or something more essential? I’m not sure. Certainly, it’s settling a little in the glass and becoming less insistent, though also a tad indistinct too.
The palate is surprising because there’s a big whack of pineapple juice on the middle palate that isn’t at all signalled on the nose. But I’m getting ahead of myself. A clean entry, slippery and pleasing. Quickly, that intense sharpness from the nose (sulphur? slate? minerality?) asserts alongside surprisingly full tropical fruit and leaner citrus flowers. There’s good thrust through the after palate, with really delicious fruit flavours framed by savouriness and powdery texture. Indeed, texture is a highlight with this wine, roughing up the tongue with fine yet prominent acidity. A lovely, citrussy finish of good length.
This strikes me as somewhat atypical, at least according to my dodgy palate memory. It’s flavoursome, textural and lively; it’s also a bit disjointed, strident and, ultimately, poses more questions than it answers. I have a few of these in the cellar and will open another bottle in, say, a year’s time.

Clonakilla
Price: $A25
Closure: Stelvin

Pascal Janvier Jasnières 2008

There is absolutely nothing wrong with the way this wine smells. Fruity and exuberant, all soft spring blossoms and chalky minerality, this smells like the first sunny day of springtime feels. And how does it taste? It’s a revelation, a reminder that yes, something approximating pure joy can in fact be found with little effort on your part. I find it difficult to describe this wine; it’s, well, ineffable. It’s full, rich, fruity, not sweet, and there’s a wonderful twist towards the finish: suddenly, the texture changes to elegant silk, shell middens under overcast skies, seagrass waving in the breeze, suggesting childhood seaside vacations and an absolute lack of care.I only wish I had some oysters.Pascal Janvier
Price: $16
Closure: Cork

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

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