1
I'm jealous that Chris was able to visit this winery on his recent trip to Chile. Fortunately for me, the local distributor is a colleague of mine, and it was this connection that led to being able to taste Undurraga's premium wine, the Altazor.

Results tagged “2005”
This producer seems to take a view of Grampians Shiraz that is, stylistically, larger in scale than most, much to the consternation of some of my wine writing colleagues (who shall remain nameless :)). I've tasted some delicious Langi wines that have aged a treat, and others that have fallen apart and lost their fruit after a relatively short time. Hard to generalise, then, about the effect of this stylistic intent. What's certain is these wines can have great impact.
This wine is a good case in point. It's a luscious, ripened style that is highly satisfying in its way. As I sip, though, I wonder whether there's a suppression of regional character at play. I'm not familiar with this site's wines, so it may well be a terroir thing as much as anything else. The nose is more cherry liqueur than fine plum, and there's a hint of the alcoholic headiness that goes along with my liquerous descriptor. A hint of bottle age completes the dense, slightly blunt aroma profile.
The palate is where this wine's compromises, as well as its strengths, play out most obviously. There's no questioning the amount of flavour here; this is the sort of soft, generous red wine, full of chewy fruit and rich oak, that causes some drinkers to slump with pleasure. The middle palate is especially full, as the structure is relaxed enough to encourage spillage of the wine's fruit across the tongue. There's some bitterness on the after palate, though, and some heat intruding on the finish too. There's also a stressed dimension to the minor spice notes in the flavour profile. It's almost the flip side of all that richness, as if the fruit couldn't quite be coaxed into such a full expression without rebelling in some way and losing the sense of elegance for which this region's Shiraz is famed.
Not a bad wine by any means, but a polarising style for lovers of Western Victorian Shiraz.
I'm developing a mini-obsession with Cabernet Franc lately; it's such a distinctive variety, and has a relatively low profile as a varietal wine. I'm sure weedy (or worse) Loire reds haven't done it any favours over the years, even they have a certain austere appeal. This wine, from Chile, sits at the opposite end of the spectrum from something like a Chinon, being full flavoured and bodied. It manages to retain some of the angular elegance that I like in Cabernet Franc, though, and for that at least strikes me as worthy of attention. This is imported by Southern Cross Wine Merchants.
In the past, I've sensed a red capsicum note in Cab Franc that I've assumed is one of the more obvious varietal characters. This wine doesn't have that note, but it still shows some vegetal influences, here -- and oddly enough -- closer to the crunchy gooseberry skins of Sauvignon Blanc. It's a fresh and frisky influence on what is otherwise a dense aroma profile, with ripe raspberries, tobacco and dash of the earthy rusticity that I associate with many Chilean red wines. Coherent and fun to smell.
The palate was initially too tannic to approach with much enjoyment, but a night's rest has turned formidable tannins into a much more velvet-like mouthfeel. In fact, texture is now a real highlight of this wine. Lots of savoury berry flavour on entry, the sharper edges to the flavour profile provide movement to the middle palate, where pepper and tobacco spread over the tongue. Although it's quite a structured wine, there's good generosity of flavour and relatively unimpeded flow through the mouth. It's fairly complex and what impresses me most is how well integrated the flavours are. Lovely buzzy texture through the after palate, and a decent finish, if perhaps slightly too influenced by nougat vanilla oak that is otherwise quite well behaved.
Good wine, well priced.
I sometimes wonder whether the adaptability of Shiraz to an apparently endless range of regional expressions is a disadvantage. Variety certainly isn't the issue. But, for someone like me who looks for order and coherence in most things, it can all start to look a bit scattered. Perhaps it seems contradictory to suggest such richness is anything but positive. Certainly, for the wine lover with patience and a well-stuffed wallet, Australian Shiraz on its own offers a world of exploration.
Victorian Shiraz is my current obsession. From the Grampians to Geelong to Heathcote to Beechworth, there's an array of styles with little to hold them together. Indeed, the fact they are all Victorian seems purely incidental. So this wine, from Beechworth, is like a bolt from the blue, expressing the most clearly defined idea of Shiraz imaginable, and seeming to set the pace for an entire region. It's the sort of confidently styled wine I believe we need more of.
An explosion of complexity on the nose. Meat stock, sour cherries, nougat, smashed black peppercorns, blackberries and ripe canes. There's a nice balance between the elements, and a nice topography to the aroma profile; unlike some wines that show seamlessness above all else, this wine isn't afraid to allow its components to stand out. I like its vibe now; in time, perhaps it will show some different, more settled faces. It's dense and savoury, expressive and perhaps a bit of a show-off, which would be bothersome if it didn't have such wonderful things to say.
In the mouth, initially quite tannic. I've let it sit in the glass for a couple of hours and, though it remains a structured, tight experience, it is starting to unfold. Give this time. On entry, a freely expressive, textural caress of sour cherry. The middle palate shows stunning complexity; there's so much going on here and, as with the nose, it's not seamless so much as intricate and full of tension. Often we value flow and harmony in wine, but this is a lesson in counterpoint, contradiction and angularity. The after palate and finish show a particular glow of fruit and oak that smooth some of the mid-palate's edges and help the wine to achieve a gentle resolution. A very, very long finish, sour cherry reverberating through a framework of gentle oak and brambles.
What a fantastic wine.
There's a reason why I've not posted recently, and it's not entirely related to a lack of time. I have indeed tasted several wines this week. And they were all crap. Which does wear one down after a while. The point of my drinking, or so I have convinced myself, is to enjoy moments of abstract sensual pleasure. I drink wine for the same reason I listen to music; to hear, feel, disagree, discover. In other words, I drink to experience beauty. So a series of ugly wines gives me absolutely nothing to write other than tiresomely self-reflective introductions like this.
Anyway, it's Saturday night and I'm worth a good wine. So out popped this sample from my tasting pile, a wine that has been waiting a few months to be experienced. I tasted the companion Barossa Shiraz a few weeks ago and found it intensely pleasurable. So it was with pleasure that my first smells and tastes of this wine revealed a similarly characterful, regionally-driven wine. Which you prefer may simply come down to your passion for one region's flavour profile over another.
Fabulous aromas of dirt roads and crushed stone, along with warm blackberries and well-judged, nutty oak. This is one to smell through the course of an entire evening, and to watch duck and weave through its full range of expressions, including the merest hint of aged leather. To be sure, there's a lot in here, yet it's not a self-consciously difficult wine. It just is, with a sense of easy, natural vibrancy that speaks both of its origins and its intent.
Entry brings dense, liqueur-like fruit into focus at the temporary expense of some minerality, but the latter is flung back into the picture on the mid-palate, which is the wine's high point of complexity. The structure is notable at this point, with firm underlying acidity and plush tannins keeping things in shape without ever seeming like the main event. A bit of vanillan oak pokes out its head through the after palate, but this wine is and remains all about spectacular fruit character; squashed blackberries and stones and dusty summers.
What a treat. This is easily a $40 wine.
Interesting wine on paper, this. It's a new release wine yet, at five years of age, relatively old to be so. Not that this is a bad thing; one could argue a lot of red wines are released way too young. Still, it does raise interesting questions even before tasting around style and intent. To the wine, then.
Decidedly herbaceous. Not breathtakingly so, and whether you will find its piercing cut grass and mulch notes objectionable will likely depend on your tolerance for Bordeaux blends on the leaner, greener side of things. There are also aromas of (slightly too much) vanilla and and dark, concentrated fruits, sort of cherry-like but deeper than this descriptor suggests.
The palate shows considerable tannin and I suspect this is one reason why the wine has been held back for release. Entry is lean and slippery, and the middle palate does not build much in terms of volume. There's an intense, focused streak of fruit right down the middle of the line; this feels pretty austere. Chalky tannins build through the middle and after palates, I question whether they are fully ripe; like the nose, it's all a bit edgy without being completely over the top. Quite a long finish, all told.
A marginal wine that I suspect will divide drinkers. I like its brightness and focus, but acknowledge it will be a bit too lean for some.
In response to my write-up of the 2007 Shiraz, Colin Sheppard of Flaxman Wines very kindly sent me a bottle each of the 2005 and 2006 versions so I could compare the site and its wine across vintages. After having tasted all three, and quite apart from notions of quality, one thing I can confirm is this wine's transparency.
This one, from 2005, is my firm favourite. The nose is slightly muted but terribly rewarding once you find your way in; there are aromas of fresh, damp earth, plum skins, crushed granite and ripened twigs. In short, it's complex, dark, etched and very adult, but with a core of plum fruit that issues a seductive call to taste. There are oak flavours in there too, in a gently nutty, nougat mode, very much secondary and well-integrated. I'm not getting a lot of age on the nose, though admittedly I never tasted this on release.
The palate is quite full in presence and volume, though this strikes me above all else as an elegant wine, despite its dimensions (and 15% abv). This is mostly due to a flavour profile that is precise and delicate, with a firm streak of minerality that cuts through juicy plums and tart skins. The whole is linear and direct in terms of how it moves through the mouth, with steadily increasing complexity and less fruit influence through the back palate and finish.
If you have some of this in your cellar, consider yourself lucky.
A Sangiovese Shiraz blend from Beechworth.
This wine raised a lot of questions for me - on the role of blending, on whether a wine is worth ageing, on what is value for money. It also had quite a few of the answers once I came to terms with it.
For me, on the basis of this wine and a couple of others (notably the much cheaper Pizzini), Shiraz and Sangiovese are undoubtedly synergistic companions. The way aromas intertwine on the nose here is very exciting. Orange peel, almond meal, tonka bean - it all begins to smell rather like a Guerlain concoction before a big hit of nougat and vanilla oak reminds me it's for drinking, not just smelling.
The palate is sinewy and intricate, with an array of sensational, intense flavours. Black pepper, dried cherries, unfolding ferns, dark fruit. The fruit character reminds me of the strange little dried things my grandmother used to hide inside dumplings on Chinese New Year - savoury, dehydrated and intensely juicy at the same time. This seems designed to age in that its flavours hint at the sort of complexities that will develop with some time in bottle without yet possessing any such notes. Quite the opposite of a sweetly fruited wine whose vibe might contest developed flavours. Medium bodied, the structure is particularly sophisticated, with acidity blending beautifully into fabric of the wine, and chalky tannins providing textural counterpoint through the after palate.
An intellectual, strong, elegantly masculine wine. Classical sculpture and proportion. Just lovely.
My acquaintance with Marie Linke of Karra Yerta Wines has been rewarding in all sorts of ways; it has provided me insights into the world of the boutique micro-producer, into the trials associated with just getting your wine out there in the public eye, into the challenges of juggling family and work life. And, not least, it has provided me with the opportunity to taste wonderful wines, borne of passion and commitment to regional tradition. My view is producers such as Karra Yerta are the backbone of the industry, providing a philosophical base around which trends and companies may come and go.
Case in point: this wine. It's identifiably Barossan in character, with that luscious, irresistibly drink now fruit character starting to come up against some more adult, bottle-aged aromas. So, it's very much in transition. I sometimes read that as a mark of disinterest, but that's kind of like saying teenagers aren't interesting because they're neither children nor adults. Surely there's a particular fascination in the confluence and clash of nascent maturity? That's what I'm seeing in this wine's aroma.
The palate is full of flavour in a characterful way. An interesting counterpoint to this wine was a 2006 Penfolds Bin 407 I tasted just the other day. I didn't write it up because it was pristine, perfect, clean, and faceless. This is precisely the opposite; it's tangibly textured, imprinted with imperfection in the most positive manner; from entry through finish, a dense wave of regional fruit, roughed up by an edge of earthy, spiced humanity that puts corporate swill to shame. This isn't trying to win medals, it's simply a reflection of its place and maker, and is utterly worthwhile for precisely this reason.
Perhaps not much of a tasting note, then, but, one hell of a worthwhile experience to taste. Highly recommended.
I'm jealous that Chris was able to visit this winery on his recent trip to Chile. Fortunately for me, the local distributor is a colleague of mine, and it was this connection that led to being able to taste Undurraga's premium wine, the Altazor. Being half Asian, I appreciate the spectacle of ostentatious vulgarity as its own form of style. Hence, I am attracted to the packaging here. The bottle itself is weighty, with an obscenely deep punt, but what makes it for me is the unapologetically gold labelling, medallion-like in its glittering assertiveness. How can one fail to enjoy a wine so presented?
I thought it was corked at first, but the slightly corky smell faded and turned into raw oak and a curious tobacco note that reminded me of Carménère. No surprise, then, to know this wine, while predominantly Cabernet Sauvignon, has a percentage of that characterful lost grape of Bordeaux. On the nose, crushed leaves, complex berry fruit -- purple and red in character -- and perhaps slightly jammy. I found the aroma to change throughout my experience of this wine, constantly shifting and evolving in an attractive way.
The palate is strikingly intense, yet only medium bodied, the combination of which establishes its intent as decidedly European. The fruit is pure, driven and attractive, varietal yet at the same time characterful, with an earthy, distinctively leafy edge. The attack is substantial and full, tapering slightly to medium and after palates of more elegant proportions. The finish powers through, extending to considerable length, with fruit and sweet, slightly uneven tannins carrying the can. There's a particularly intriguing note of minerality on the finish, really striking and beautiful. Everything about this wine speaks of quality.
If you're going to do a premium label, this isn't a bad approach. It's powerful and balanced, made in a classic mould, but with its own identity too.
I tasted this inexpensive red Burgundy a few months ago at a dinner party, and remember enjoying it. Last night, I had the opportunity to taste it at leisure, so am able to provide more concrete impressions.
Nice, savoury expression of Pinot Noir. The nose shows dark aromas of sous-bois and only a hint of the beetroot-rhubarb fruit that can dominate some New World Pinot styles. There's perhaps a bit of rubbery reduction too, which blows off after some of air. As with a number of other wines I've tasted lately, I'm interested in the tension between sweet, seductive fruit and savouriness or even a degree of challenging funkiness. It seems an especially difficult thing to pull off successfully, but I like watching wines (and winemakers) try.
The palate seems quite resolved and approachable. It shows a similar balance of sweet and savoury to the nose, and is moderately intense. What I like most about it its sense of balance and easygoing drinkability, which it achieves without being at all simple. In fact, given its price and provenance, it's surprisingly sophisticated, with well integrated flavours and a finely textural mouthfeel that helps it to cut through food (ok, take-away pizza) one may not naturally pair with this kind of wine.
A very drinkable, well-priced Pinot, ready now. Quite sophisticated too.
I shared this with colleagues over dinner on Monday evening, so my recollections of the moment are as much social as vinous. Still, this wine went down easily and accompanied our Indian meal rather well.
An extremely vigorous mousse, almost as aggressive as Diet Coke when poured into a fresh glass. As an aside, are there any more wonderful sights in wine than sparkling Shiraz as it fizzes and foams on pouring? There's something gloriously vulgar about the purple mousse, profoundly unnatural yet appealing. It reminds me of Christmas, somehow. But back to the wine; a nose that seems even-tempered, recalling a still wine more than a sparkling one. It's blackberried and plummed in equal measure, all sprinkled with dark spice.
The palate shows me why some of the best sparkling Shiraz wines come from the Grampians, home of the style and long renowned for its elegant, medium bodied Shiraz-based table wines. Sparkling red wines, especially at the low end, can tend towards too much sweetness, with a rough structure and obvious fruit. This, by contrast, showcases its moderate body and relatively subtle effervescence, creating an impression of elegance and style rather than skirt-raising good times. A nice, lively spritz on entry, followed by a middle palate that shows great balance between savoury spice and fruit sweetness, between spritz and linearity. It's all quite restrained, really, almost quiet, which only serves to highlight the tasty, if simple, flavour profile. The whisper of a middle palate surges again through the after palate and finish.
I wouldn't call it a great wine, but the elegance of its palate weight and structure really impresses, and turns what can be a neon style into something subtle and alluring.
There's a lot of chatter about how out of favour Chardonnay has become, and I'm reminded in all this of the difference between fashion and style. Good wines will always find an audience, even if the size of that audience fluctuates based on what's hot at any given time. The focus must remain on wines that draw out the best of their underlying fruit, and which retain an authenticity of style that transcends the fashionable buzz of the day. I can only speak for myself, of course, but the truth underlying each wine is what I crave most each time I open a bottle, and what disappoints me the most when it is absent.
I mention all this because the wine in front of me defies a few trends. As a fairly worked Chardonnay, it goes contrary to the trend towards "Chablis style" Chardonnay wines that, marketing material would have one believe, are the true antidote to a decade of flabby, butterscotch monsters. To the wine itself: the nose is pleasingly complex, with curious crushed leaf notes alongside white and yellow stonefruit, almond meal, Weet-Bix and vanilla. It all comes together really well, and seems to smell of itself rather than as a collection of components.
The palate is powerful and shapely, with especially notable intensity of flavour. On entry, immediate peaches and cream flavour, along with slightly rough acidity and a savoury almond note that runs the length of the palate. The middle plate evolves some further fruit sweetness and a bit of caramel delight, too. Mouthfeel is rounded and generous. It's here that things threaten to become slightly simple, because of the dominance of the fruit character (verging on pineapple) and the influence of some winemaking choices. The after palate, though, draws in a whole bunch of baked goods to add to the flavour profile, and this tempers the still-sweet fruit to a satisfactory extent. The finish is beautifully nutty and long.
Exceptional Chardonnay drinking well right now. You can keep your faux Chablis.

There are few things in art, and indeed life, more tantalising than a mistaken first impression.
The bottle in front of me is festooned with gold stickers (much more so than in the accompanying photograph); so much bling threatens to overwhelm a striking label design. To certain weary enthusiasts (that's me), it might also signal an unsubtle, "show" style. So its true character, when revealed, comes as a surprise. Indeed, what is remarkable about this wine is its powerful intimacy. It draws you in quietly, peeling itself back one translucent layer at a time, until you're lost in its grasp.
I was advised by this wine's mother to give it a good hour and a half of air before attempting serious evaluation. In fact, I left it overnight to breathe, and feel on day two its expression is close to complete. At first, a nose that is all mocha oak and deep, ripe plums. It's complex yet utterly restrained from flowing as it ought. A couple of hours later, the aroma profile is wider and more expressive, though still deeply coiled and suggestive of untold generosity. Finally, a day on, there's some freedom, structured yet moving without restraint, a multi-coloured kimono of aroma. Black fruit, complex spice, hot sun on brambles, some vanilla. It's all quality, with good integration and poise, yet it's subdued and subtle, in a positive sense. There's no yelling, just sweet harmony and rhythm.
The palate is equally seductive, and it's difficult to tease each element apart. Flavours are in line with the nose, though a successful balance between sweet and savoury fruit is more evident here. There's a voluptuous slipperiness to the mouthfeel that is also notable. On entry, inky fruit and coffee grounds create a dark flavour profile that carries through to the middle palate. Here, it lightens a little, red fruit and plums emerging alongside orange juice acidity and brown spice. There's a lot going on. The after palate is positively fruit driven, and very clean in presentation. It sustains the momentum of the front palate through to a musky, powerfully soft finish of ultra-ripe tannins and sweet fruit.
What a lovely wine. It's striking and intense and all of those good things, yet somehow manages to communicate with understatement. A most intriguing, satisfying wine.
There aren't too many straight Malbecs made in Australia, although the variety continues to appear in many blends, sometimes as a regional specialty (as with Cabernet Sauvignon in the Clare Valley, for example). Chris's partner Dan is something of a Malbec enthusiast, so it is in his honour that I taste this wine tonight.
Awfully grand intro for a $A15 wine, no? Yet this is full of interest and tasty to boot. The nose shows a nice array of aromas, including slightly jammy red and black fruits, dense brambles baking in hot Summer sun, mint lollies and what seems like rather raw oak, vanillan and sappy in equal measure. Somehow, it strikes the same pose as an Italian pastoral art movie from the 70s; rough around the edges yet vividly sensual, all in slightly porno-like soft focus. I've never compared wine to an adult movie before, so this must be doing something right.
In the mouth, a big rush of Langhorne Creek goodness. It's just as minty as the aroma, which is to say noticeably so without being offensive, and more importantly has the generous rush of flavour that seems to characterise this region's red wines. Bang; immediately on entry there's rich fruit flavour, a little baked perhaps, plus a lively mouthfeel that owes its character to a decent whack of acidity. This acidity isn't that well integrated but, given the style of wine, its robustness works acceptably well. Intensity of flavour remains decent throughout, never peaking or troughing at any stage, nor scaling any particular heights. The acid-driven after palate brings a slightly medicinal edge to the flavour profile, before a nice long finish of red fruits and fine, dry tannins.
Totally unsophisticated, totally enjoyable. Not a bad companion to the consolations of another Monday evening.
I feel a bit lame for not writing up more local wines, so consider this an assuagement of my sense of guilt as much as anything else. Still, my notes on Full Pour are in large part a reflection of what I choose to drink for pleasure, and the reality is I haven't explored Queensland wines to any significant extent. Not to diminish this particular wine before I've even started, of course. Here we have a straight Cabernet from the Granite Belt region, produced by one of its oldest wineries.
There are some distinctive things happening on the nose here; quite a strong smell of turned earth and dusty red fruits in addition to more typically Cabernet aromas of leafiness and dark berries. The fruit character strikes me as quite ripe, a bit stewed even, and the earth notes aren't squeaky clean, but the whole is expressive, generous and quite fun.
Stewed fruit is more evident in the mouth, robbing the wine of a sense of freshness and varietal character. If you can get past this, though, there's certainly some enjoyment to be had. Despite relatively assertive tannins, the structure of this wine is loose, flavour tending to collapse onto the tongue in a generous but messy wave. Perhaps it's my mood, but the flavour profile as a whole seems tangled, and I'm having trouble resolving the individual elements in amongst a crowded, yet indistinct, mass of elements. The after palate thins somewhat, allowing a bit of heat to emerge on the finish.
I'm tasting this wine critically, so it's probably fair to say the observations I've made will matter very little to someone looking for a flavoursome dry red to throw back on a weekday evening. In this functional role it performs admirably.
A blend of Sangiovese, Barbera and Grenache from South Australia.
The nose is relatively dumb at first, with sour cherries and raw meat seeming to sit in the glass even when violently encouraged to take flight (my wrist is sore - from swirling). There's a coarse vegetal edge to the aroma that seems whole bunch-like. A bit of powdery vanilla oak rounds things off. It's quite sniffable and mercifully free from industrial confectionary. It's also blunt and rather unrefined.
On entry, a refreshingly rustic mouthfeel that immediately recalls the sort of cheap Chianti that I secretly adore for its rough authenticity. Also like cheap Chianti, there's never any danger of this scaling the heights of fruit intensity. Rather, this provides "just enough" of a great many things: flavour, length, complexity, interest. But wine is about how the whole hangs together and, in this case, there's a reasonable impression of coherence. More sour cherry pips, almonds, oak and a moderately unattractive caramel note wash over the tongue, straining to escape the impression of being watered down. Bright acid keeps things fresh and clean, washing away the last stains of flavour and encouraging food.
I wasn't feeling all that positive about this wine when I sat down to compose this note, and I remain equivocal in some respects. On the other hand, it's fresh and light in a manner that evades many local red styles, and for that at least should be noted.
Bit of a Grampians-fest here at Full Pour lately, and why not? Long renowned for quality wine, and apart from a couple of high flying labels, this historic region seems to sit under the radar and the total number of producers remains low.
A forthright nose of ripe plums, cherries and not just a pinch but a whole market of exotic spices. The spiciness here is striking and, it seems to me, very regional. It's quite a dark aroma profile overall, robust too, so words like "heady" spring to mind rather than "elegant." There's something to be said for impact, though, and this certainly has punch.
The entry is explosively satisfying, confirming the nose's character with up-front flavour and substantial palate weight. This really is quite in-your-face, in a good way, with notes of incense, cedar oak, plum jam and other dark fruits intermingling on the mid-palate. Good drive through the mouth, with the after palate lightening a shade, showing less spice and more fresh fruit flavours. A tantalising, lingering finish, riding a velvet carpet of fine tannins.
This is an exceptionally flavoursome wine; not the last word in refinement, but generous and quite delicious. This is the sort of wine that I love, because it's so true to its region and hence sacrifices none of its essential character, even though it is (nominally) a second tier label.
As an aside, I do like Mount Langi Ghiran's classy, strong branding. Nice work.
I had to leave this wine overnight as, on opening, it seemed excessively sulphurous, to the point of being undrinkable. It's better tonight, although there is a hardness that seems reluctant to depart. I'm not enough of a guru to know whether this is a technical fault or a function of fruit, so I'll just call this wine as I find it.
On the nose, softly fruited with quite luscious plum and strawberry characters. There's also an edge of minerality and an underlying hardness that speaks to me of woody stalks. It's actually becoming less expressive as it sits in the glass, although what's there is interesting in an elusive way. The entry shows similarly contradictory characters. There's a thread of the same juicy fruit, but it's almost completely overwhelmed with hard, savoury characters. Things remain thin through the middle palate, with a thrust of bitterness that obscures pretty much everything. There's a bit of joy on the after palate, with some sweetly floral characters, before an astringent, hard finish.
I'm not really getting a lot from this wine in terms of enjoyment, though I will persist with it through the evening to see where it goes.
I really do try to be a sympathetic partner, but I find myself involuntarily laughing when, on opening an unusual wine, my other half has a dramatically negative reaction, sometimes declaring a wine horrible and utterly undrinkable. "Oh really, what don't you like about it?" I usually ask, knowing I'll get back an amusingly colourful rant. Granted, he has an extremely low tolerance for things not to his taste (not a bad thing) which, when combined with my forgiveness of odd flavours and wine faults, means we have these conversations more frequently than one might expect. And so it was when we opened this wine a couple of nights ago.
Bass Phillip
Price: $A35
Closure: Cork
Without wanting to suggest I've tasted an extensive range, ever since Chris and I shared a magical moment or two over a bottle of Tetsuya's house red (a Bass Phillip Pinot made especially), I've had a soft spot for Phillip Jones's wines. This one is testing my loyalty, though. Tasted from the same bottle two days apart, my experience is mixed. On the first night, a masculine wine full of robust, sour berry fruit and stalky, in fact almost twiggy, flavour. Although eliciting the aforementioned "yuk" from my partner, I really enjoyed the robust character and almost brutish force of the flavour profile. Granted, there seemed to be all sorts of weird flavours in there too, quite indescribable and frankly not quite "right."
Two days on and those odd flavours have won the battle. On the nose, a really odd smell that reminds me of rancid deep fryer fat, mixed with crunchy red berries, freshly ground black pepper and horse hair. Not exactly your clean, New World Pinot Noir. The palate continues this oddness, with flavours of paté on Melba toast, potato chips and utterly delicious sour fruit. And that's the thing with this wine. It's not right in the head, yet I keep coming back to it, fascinated by its combination of strange and compelling flavours. Flavour profile aside, it is structured really well, with good movement through the mouth and a well balanced interplay of acid and tannin.
I wouldn't recommend this wine to a stranger, but I would share it with a friend.
Bass Phillip
Price: $A35
Closure: Cork
First, provenance. I ended up with this bottle of wine (amongst others) courtesy of the Sydney Royal Wine Show, as a "thank you" for stewarding. The thing is, I can't find out anything about it other than the fact that it won a silver medal at the 2008 Show. Nothing on the Wolf Blass website. So if you're after some of this wine -- sorry, can't help you. Unless some of our readers (or the producer) can enlighten us all, of course.
It's quite a tasty wine, though difficult too. The nose seems mostly influenced by winemaking rather than fruit -- savoury mealiness, sweet vanilla oak, a touch of caramel. All pretty delicious if you don't mind fruit flavours that take a complementary role in the overall profile. The fruit itself is lovely -- white peach mostly -- but oh-so subservient. Interestingly, this isn't a totally juggy wine, and there's enough of a funky thread to the aroma to present as challenging too.
In the mouth, some surprises. It's not flabby at all, nicely propped up by acid in fact, and I am finding the fruit more prominent here than on the nose, at least initially. The attack is alive and crisp thanks to the acid, creating an impression of vibrant, fresh fruit, but this momentum isn't maintained because the intensity of the fruit dips quickly as the wine moves towards the middle palate. It's like a little explosion that disappears from view before you've finished taking in the effect. Is the fruit receding, or is the wine perhaps going through a stage? Who knows. Just as disappointment threatens to settle in, things pick up again on the after palate, though flavours here are more oak-driven. Classy oak, to be sure, but a bit blunt too. The finish slides into caramel and oat meal, and feels a bit hot to me.
Overall it seems a bit awkward and gangly, and it may be that I'm drinking it at a disadvantageous point in its trajectory.
Wolf Blass White Label Chardonnay 2005