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

Yelland & Papps Delight Grenache Rosé 2009

Sometimes, I wonder why I ever moved to Brisbane. Sure, it’s beautiful today, and I’m sure it will be perfect tomorrow, but I’m a Canberra boy at heart. I like cold, mercilessly windy Winters and hot, dry Summers, not least because they tend to be framed by idyllic Springs and Autumns. Brisbane, on the other hand, goes from warm to ridiculous, with days (like today) that feel hot well in excess of the measured temperature. Natives say it’s the humidity, and assure me I’ll get used to it, but like many acquired tastes I’m not sure whether it’s worth the effort.

In any case, I needed some refreshment this afternoon and reached for this Grenache-based rosé from Yelland & Papps, a small producer in the Barossa Valley. A lurid strawberry colour, not overly dense but certainly pretty in its neon way. A party colour. The nose is exuberant, with boiled lollies and a counterpoint of savoury, medicinal notes. Simple, fun and certainly generous. It might present too much confectionary for those who prefer a more savoury rosé style; it’s all about context I guess. 
The palate is quite full, with a round mouthfeel and surprisingly intense flavour. The entry is soft and a little underwhelming. The middle palate, by contrast, is full of bright flavours that echo the sweet/savoury profile of the aroma. Things get even more interesting through the after palate, where the acidity contributes a strong, sour thread that accentuates the savoury aspects of the flavour profile. There seems to be a bit of heat on the finish (13% abv). 
An honest, flavoursome wine that would suit casual Summer quaffing for those not averse to the sweeter (and more alcoholic) side of Grenache.

Yelland & Papps
Price: $A17
Closure: Stelvin

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

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

Gilligan Marsanne Roussanne 2009

Why is Coke so popular? Why isn’t Passiona taking the world by storm? Personally, I adore Passiona and think it has a lot to offer the soft-drinking community. Yet Coke flies off the shelves. It all begs the question: are some soft drinks inherently better than others? Ditto grapes; do some varieties, barring easy targets like Trebbiano, simply make better wines than others? 

I don’t care to attempt an answer but, given the role fashion plays in wine appreciation and commerce, it seems dangerous to use market acceptance as an indicator of a variety’s potential. (Hunter) Semillon is a great example, and I wonder about the white Rhône varieties too. Viognier is, of course, enjoying an odd sort of resurgence, though I’m buggered if I can figure out what to eat with it. Marsanne and Roussanne are even more interesting. Tahbilk continues to make its iconic Marsanne at Nagambie Lakes, and a street price of about $A10 should tell you how scandalously little it is valued by the market (not that my wallet is complaining). Australian Roussanne is even thinner on the ground, yet my infallible fashion radar indicates a growing interest in these two varieties, even if the local industry’s collective expression suggests a degree of puzzlement rather than confidence. 
Enter McLaren Vale producer Gilligan with the first vintage of its Marsanne Rousanne blend (about half each). It’s a striking label, and I mean that literally; its bold typographic treatment on reflective silver should stand out on a shelf. It should also stand out when smelled, because it delivers a big hit of honeysuckle and bubblegum with the eagerness of an overweight teenager deciding what to order at McDonald’s (I speak from personal experience). If it had lingered too long on this note, it would have quickly become cloying, but the nice thing about this wine is that it keeps defying my expectations. From its Britney Spears start, it evolves to show subtle yet lively fruit flavours (in a sort of pineapple and orange spectrum) and, a little unexpectedly, savoury minerality too. The aroma profile never lives up to the impact of its first impression; whether this is good or bad is probably a matter of taste. 
The palate starts full and generous, as one might expect from these varieties, with a shapely flow into the mouth herded by fine, fresh acid. Again, intensity of fruit wanes a little towards the mid-palate, and it’s here more than on the nose that I was left wishing for just a bit extra. Compensation comes in the form of decent complexity and a pleasingly nuanced structure. That same savouriness as on the nose (is it sulphur-derived?) presents through the after palate and tastes very grown up. A fresh finish of unremarkable length.
You could throw this back as a simple quaffer if you chose but, like an unexpectedly smart movie, it prods and provokes more complex responses. This intelligence, combined with a still-unusual mix of grape varieties, is a lot of wine for $A21. Nice.

Gilligan
Price: $A21
Closure: Stelvin

Karra Yerta Eden Valley Riesling 2009

ev riesling 09.gifThe Karra Yerta vineyard has a flavour that is partly Eden Valley but otherwise all its own. This is the third vintage I’ve tasted and there’s a striking family resemblance between the wines. The 2008 was full and soft, communicating a luxuriant plushness while remaining in the mainstream of Eden style. The 2005 was austere and acidic, clearly built for the long haul, and what one might consider a more typical wine of the region. This most recent edition is different again, yet its core of pastel, shimmering fruit is all Karra Yerta, clearly showing the terroir of this special vineyard.

A most interesting range of aromas — watermelon, apples, lychee, cut grass, spice, lemon — seem to glisten and evolve from the glass like shiny scented pillows. There’s excellent complexity and cohesiveness for such a young Riesling; this is absolutely ready to drink now as a striking aromatic white, although I’m quite sure it could take a good deal of bottle age if one likes that sort of thing. 
A wallop of acidity announces the palate in no uncertain terms; this is definitely a young Riesling, but it’s not undrinkably tart as some can be. Instead, its fine texture and delicious sourness present alongside quite rich, full fruit flavours of a similar character to the nose, but for more prominent apple and lemon flavours. The middle palate is strikingly intense, yet what I like most is the shape and flow. Generous flavour is contained within a couture-like silhouette that cuts a dashing figure through the mouth. Everything’s in line, flowing as it should, with perfect control. An intriguing note, savoury and spicy in equal measure, kicks through the after palate before a sour, delicious finish of very impressive length rounds it all off. Indeed, this seems to go on and on for ages.
I don’t pretend to be an objective taster by any means, so although this is a quality wine made by a passionate producer in tiny quantities, it all comes to nought, because drinking this is like falling in love. Nothing else matters. 

Karra Yerta Wines
Price: $A25
Closure: Stelvin

Dowie Doole Chenin Blanc 2009

There aren’t too many wineries in Australia who have made a speciality of Chenin Blanc. In the case of Dowie Doole, one can legitimately say it is a producer who is at the vanguard of Chenin in Australia, with two quite different wines in its range. The Tintookie (to be tasted soon) is a subjected to a variety of winemaking tricks, whereas this wine is a more straightforward expression of the grape. Both wines are made from old vines (70+ years) in the McLaren Vale region.

Being more accustomed to reserved Loire styles, I was taken by surprise when I sniffed the exuberantly expressive aroma of this wine. Very clean notes of cut apple, a hint of passionfruit and a general fruitiness that reminds me of Sauvignon Blanc or Verdehlo, but without smelling like either. There’s also a bit of minerality — just a bit — that adds some complexity and sophistication. Mostly, though, this has a fresh, pleasing aroma profile reminiscent of Summer picnics.
The palate is a big burst of fruit flavour, entirely appropriate and in line with the character of the nose. I could proceed to analyse it, and point out how unexpected is the racy minerality, how pleasingly textural are the phenolics on the after palate, how long is the wine’s thrust through the finish, but I suspect I’d be missing the point. Indeed, this is a wine to throw back by the dozen, a highly drinkable dry white whose aim is to quench thirst and lubricate lazy weekends. When looked at in this light, it is very well judged for immediate gratification, cleverly balancing soft fruit flavours and fresh acid structure. 
This label throws its hat squarely into a ring dominated by schools of Sauvignon Blanc and gaggles of Pinot Gris. At the price, and with this quality, it makes a strong argument for the battler Chenin Blanc.

Dowie Doole
Price: $A16
Closure: Stelvin