Results tagged “Tempranillo”

What are the chances? This is the second Australian wine tasted in as many weeks made in a joven style, blending Grenache and Tempranillo, but referring to the former as Garnacha instead of the more bogan-sounding Grenache. This one is from micro-producer Smallfry, and the bottle in front of me is one of a run of 110 cases.

There's something both fun and savvy about the way this wine is marketed; indeed, about what this wine is. The label design for starters, which caused me to laugh out loud when I pulled the bottle from its box, calls out the initials of its constituent grapes. Being a fan of gin and tonic, I immediately thought of satisfyingly fresh aromatics and a vaguely medicinal effect. More to the point, though, I thought of fun, ease and casual sophistication. Not a bad association to make given a new wine label.

The second Blue Poles Vineyard wine to be tasted at Full Pour and, like the first, a thought-provoking little number. 

It seems to me the turf war at the lower end of the wine market is, in a lot of ways, more interesting than any perceived battle of the premiums. Burgundy is no substitute for Central Otago Pinot; I'll take both, thanks very much. If I take a more functional view of wine, though, one wine becomes more or less interchangeable with others of a similar style and price. Hence the availability of large numbers of inexpensive red and white wines the variety and region of which is of less import than, say, price point or style. On this view, I might easily substitute a local flavoursome red for a similarly priced import, so long as it meets my broad requirements of a tasty red wine.

Tempranillo-based wine from a not-exactly-renowned vintage in the Toro region. The label totally rocks. This really stood out on the shelf. 

I haven't taken the time to explore much Spanish wine, but it's fair to say the Iberian peninsula is so hot right now. This, incidentally, is typical of my (in)ability to be ahead of the curve. No matter, if you are like me and are a novice in this area, I can highly recommend Dave Worthington's excellent site Tinto y Blanco.

Finally, here's the second part of my tasting notes for tonight. It took me a few minutes to decide what to do with the Campo Viejo Crianza 2006 - at first, I thought I could merely cork the bottle, sit it outside on the sidewalk, and - to paraphrase Mao - let a thousand unintended pregnancies bloom, but that would of course have been grossly irresponsible of me. Down the sink it went; yes, I did recycle.

Now, on to this wine. My first thought on opening the bottle was simple "Oh, wait, this is a real wine." I know, how haughty of me, but really: this didn't smell of simple berries and fruit. This wine smells of, well, wine. There's almost a hazelnut or roasted-coffee-biscotti note around the edge of it; it seems clear to me that this wine has seen a fair whack of oak. There's also a lingering hint of some of the same vanilla berry notes from the regular version of the wine, but in a very tastefully restrained manner: it's the difference between Versailles before and after Jeff Koons. What it really smells like, though, is proper Rioja: this reminds me of random bottles of Spanish wines happily drunk on holiday in Madrid with friends a few years back. What fruit there is is fastidiously framed by a hint of sourness, appetizing woody-coffee notes, and a sense of place. In short, whatever went missing from the crianza is here in the reserva.

Taste-wise, there's a brief, soft opening of gentle fruit that fairly rapidly fans out into an elegant, lacy interplay between reasonable, appetizing acidity, something like gentle earth, restrained berry fruits, soft vanillic effects, and then it all rides out quietly on somber, toasty oak. It's the acidity that really ties the glass together, though; without it, this would be too soft, too easy. The overall effect is of eating delicious cake with a short espresso, I reckon; you get both the vanilla cherry pie and the upright tannins - but not too much, because then this wine wouldn't really be Spanish.

The most impressive thing here is to me the remarkable lightness of this wine. Compare to New World wines, this just doesn't go as far down the tonal register, which makes it a refreshing change from the usual. This also means (I think) that this is another one to pair with sausages or grilled meats: it would work wonders. For me, it's doing just fine with simple spaghetti bolognese, but it could have been so much more.

Finally, I feel compelled to publicly wonder about something that utterly baffles me: this wine is selling for just $10 at The Wine Exchange in Orange, California. How can this be? If the cheap version of this is $9, why is this only a buck more and - more interestingly - why is it so much better?

Disclaimer: I didn't spend my own money on this bottle, but I also didn't agree to anything.

Much to my surprise, I found myself accepting free samples of wine from a certain publicly traded French drinks behemoth. Why? Simple: I figured what the heck; if the wine sucked, I'd have fun complaining in a really boring, Adbusters-esque way about corporate wine blah blah blah. But if it was good... then what? In a world filled with small, struggling producers that produce original, interesting wines in this price range, do we really need one more review saying anything good about wines that are presumably produced in unspeakable quantities and then drunk in cruise ships and indifferent hotel restaurants the world over?

The short answer is yes. Not everyone has the access to a wide range of indie wine shops that we have here in California; not everyone lives in a state that allows direct shipping. In many places in North America, you either get it from the liquor board shop or you don't get it at all. And in places that really don't drink "fine wine" (leaving aside the discussion of what exactly that is for now), then all you're going to get is "industrial wine" - so why shouldn't you be aware of the good stuff?

First off: a disclaimer. Full Pour's review policy is simple: you can send us free wine, but we don't promise we'll review it. And if we do review it, we don't promise we'll publish the review. And if we do publish our review, we don't promise it's going to be a good one.

OK, that's out of the way. How is this $9 wine courtesy of Behemoth French Industrial Producer?

The nose offers up super friendly, inviting, warm red berry aromas. It smells better than any strawberry rhubarb pie I've ever baked, at any rate. There's also a kind of woodsy perfume there as well, just a hint of something like candied oak. Not too bad.

Sadly, however, once you get some of this in your mouth, it all falls apart. Dang it, I was hoping to like this wine so that I could say yes, sometimes the big guys get it right... just not this time. Everything here seems loose, unstructured, out of focus: it's a bit flabby, perhaps even just a tiny bit sweet, with an unpleasant raw acidity sneaking in to bust up the party the second it wobbles to a start. The overall effect is frankly unpleasant: it tastes cheap, unfinished. The one good thing I will say, though, is that the tannic structure of the wine is just fine, keeping some kind of firm hold on the whole endeavor.

So what to do with this wine? The tannins suggest it needs meat; the rest of it suggests it needs to be obscured by something else; I'm thinking heavy barbecue smoke would do the job just fine. If you're somewhere where you can get funky, indie bottles of unknown French reds, then go for it. If, however, your choice is between this and [yellow tail], then I'd say go with the Campo Viejo - it's in the same price range but has a little bit more interest. Otherwise, though, can you remember the last time you drank a Coors? No? Well, it might be time to start over again...

This has been garnering some raves lately, as has its sister label Shiraz. I can't quite wrap my head around all the things that happen when an unfamiliar varietal starts to edge its way onto the scene; Tempranillo seems to have made more headway than most of late. I suppose what interests me most is the inevitable experimentation that goes with a new variety, especially when you throw several regions into the mix. When does the lightbulb go off, like it has done in the past for "Margaret River Cabernet," "Hunter Semillon," etc?

Hrm... almost smells like nail polish remover, albeit with a whiff of black cherries; it's not particularly appetizing. The color is noticeably light - almost like Beaujolais nouveau (hey, what a temporal coincidence!). There's also a weird smell of dusty closet floor in their somehow - like something shredded up the cedar blocks you put there a few years ago to ward off moths. Yecch.

Taste-wise it's no picnic. What little fruit there is is quickly overwhelmed by grating, drying tannins as well as a whack of unwelcome acidity. Hoo-boy. This is no fun at all - it's probably best saved to serve to unsuspecting Midwestern tourists at a "tapas bar" in someplace like downtown Anaheim as part of an "authentic Spanish dining experience." I can't recommend this one at all - I'm not even sure it's up to sangría.

Saludas [but really fresh&easy]
Price: US $2.99
Closure: Stelvin
Tasted: November 2007

The nose offers up a rich, creamy fruitiness that's reminiscent of strawberry paletas, with a slight pepperiness and a hint of grapefruit peel; it took a few minutes for the wine to express any clear flavors, though, so it may be best not to serve this wine straight from the refrigerator - give it fifteen minutes or so to warm up a bit. In the mouth, there's a definite spritziness which seems somehow appropriate; it's quite full in the mouth, with a good amount of sweetness nicely counterbalanced by the CO2 and moderate acidity. Although it's overall too sweet to be a truly fine rosé, it works quite well for what it is and is a nice halfway point between, say, a pink Bandol wine and "my teeth are melting" white Zinfandel from California. Overall, the effect is basically liquid strawberry shortcake: easy to drink, and nicely refreshing on a warm summer's day.

Serve with chiles en nogada, I reckon.

Bodegas Realeza [but really Acciona, owners of Hijos de Antonio Barceló, S.A., presumably under contract to fresh&easy]
Price: US $4.99
Closure: Stelvin
Tasted: November 2007

Straight out of the fridge, the first whiff out of the bottle is of simple strawberries and pepper, pleasant enough; there's also a hint of something unpleasantly funky, a dark note that seems out of place. In the mouth, the first thing that hits you is a lot of undifferentiated fruit sweetness, which calms down into something like blood orange peel, but the wine is unbalanced and flabby, with not nearly enough acidity to counterbalance the sweetness. It's all a bit thin as well, with a finish that isn't particularly pleasant - it's kind of like eating Triscuits that someone's already licked all of the salt off of, combined with strawberry fruit leather stolen from a lunchbox someone found behind an abandoned schoolyard. So what do to with this wine? I think the answer's pretty clear: make sangría. The wine quality's OK, but it really needs some additional flavor there to detract from its flaws.

Saludas [but really fresh&easy]
Price: US $2.99
Closure: Stelvin
Tasted: November 2007