Hoddles Creek Chardonnay 2006

On release, I gave what now strikes me as a rather lukewarm impression of this wine in my original writeup. Its firm acid structure prompted me, at the time, to put a few in my cellar for a rest, and I’m now tasting this again for the first time in three or so years. Of all the wines one might age, an $18 Australian Chardonnay wouldn’t be considered a sure bet. Indeed, the question of whether any Australian Chardonnay can productively age still pops up now and then. I’ll leave that debate to those more patient; for now, I have this wine in front of me and I do believe it’s better than it was as a fresher, younger wine.

As with most things vinous, the point at which one prefers to drink a particular wine is very much a matter of taste. So, to help you decide whether your stash of 2006 Hoddles Creek Chardonnay is ready for you, I’ll observe that this wine is in the initial stages of becoming more complex and, at the same time, more relaxed. The acidic nervousness I originally noted has mellowed to allow a looser, more expansive movement over the tongue. Flavours, which at first seemed so citrus and oak dominant, now express more cohesively, are perhaps harder to separate from one another, are certainly more numerous. There’s an especially delicious honey note that is just starting to emerge on the after palate. This will never be a fat, old fashioned style, but it’s starting to inch towards a fullness of palate weight and flavour profile that, to be honest, pleases me a lot more than a simpler, tighter style, especially given the inherent power of the Yarra Chardonnay flavour profile.

More of everything except edginess and simplicity; I like.

Hoddles Creek
Price: $A18
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Retail

Domaine Alain Chavy Saint-Aubin 1er Cru En Remilly 2007

I’m a fan of this label, having enjoyed recent vintages (2005, 2006) very much. Though Chavy allows a clear view into vintage conditions, there’s a delicate power that unites these wines; detail above impact, complexity above density. This 2007 is clearly the most forward of the last three vintages, a real surprise considering growing conditions, which generally led to whites rather higher in acidity than usual.

The nose retains En Remilly’s fundamentally minerally, high toned profile, with sparks of flint, wet wool and florals. Fruit, however, is broader than usual, showing hints of yellow peach where before there was only white. There’s less citrus than usual, and less talc, stonefruit flesh taking its place. To be clear, this remains a restrained, tight aroma profile, but certainly looser than in previous years.

The palate is far less tightly structured than the 2006 in particular, and even in its first year after retail release the peach is flowing freely. What’s wonderful about this wine, though, is the clash of site and vintage conditions, plus perhaps a touch more oxidative handling in the winery. This is what happens when a wine of fundamentally mineral character goes wild; it’s full of savoury fruit and sweet prickliness, of blunt faces and angular asides. Citrus, rather than invoking delicate grapefruit or lemon, tilts towards juicy orange. Do I prefer it in its more restrained, delicate guise? Perhaps, but this is fascinating too, in the same way a favourite artist’s least achieved work is still valuable for being an expression of something fundamentally worthy. And this is far from a bad wine; indeed, it’s constantly improving in the glass, gaining complexity and almost justifying its portly middle.

For enthusiasts (and the fools who love them).

Domaine Alain Chavy
Price: $A50
Closure: Cork
Source: Retail

Mistletoe Reserve Chardonnay 2009

A $A40 Hunter Valley Chardonnay seeks impressive company – the Lake’s Folly and Tyrrell’s Vat 47 for starters. This, in the context of a wine region that, although it can claim an important place in the history of Australian Chardonnay, is hardly at the vanguard of fashion with the variety. I shouldn’t worry about such things, of course, as it’s all about the juice, right? Sure, but expectations have nonetheless been set.

First impressions are striking in that the nose and, in particular, palate seem very Semillon-ish. I know Semillon has been added to Hunter Chardonnay in years past and one might consider it a legitimate component of the regional style. Whether or not it’s been done here, I don’t know, but there’s a racy streak of textural acidity and the kind of strident citrus that are typical of Hunter Semillon. Once past this, the nose settles to a typically rich, peachy expression of Chardonnay, focus very much on fruit rather than the sort of oaky butterscotch that destroyed Chardonnay’s reputation back in the day. Still, this is hardly a delicate aroma profile, all ripe fruit and pungent, fresh herbs.

The palate is, if anything, even more fruit forward, flopping a big bowl of tinned peaches onto the tongue with a nice dollop of vanilla cream, all supported by a strong streak of acid. This is all rather boisterous and rather less delicate, and may be as polarising to drinkers as the ultra lean, Chablis-esque wines being produced further South. It’s not purely a stylistic question, though; while this is full of flavour, it does lack the sort of cohesion and controlled expression that the aforementioned regional icons usually display. It bounces between its buxom components with a wildness that isn’t entirely convincing.

A very big mouthful of Hunter Chardonnay.

Mistletoe
Price: $A40
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Sample

2009 Scholium Project Midan al-Tahrir

Let’s start with the finish, shall we?

The thing is it has to be the truth to really go over, here. It can’t be a calculated crowd-pleaser, and it has to be the truth unslanted, unfortified. And maximally unironic.

– David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest

If the experience of drinking a sip of this wine somehow included an involuntary oblivion, slyly eliding the first four-fifths of the line, it would have been enough. Heck, it would have been more than enough; the final, sneaking outro, the slouching into the past on little cat feet, soft scratch of nails against slate and clay, that alone’s far more interesting than most wines manage.

Let’s start with what this wine is not: it’s not identifiably varietal, it’s not faithful to a style (and in that sense is assuredly not a vin d’effort, it’s immoderately alcoholic, and it may well be de trop in terms of food pairings (although it might work wonders where pale, cool sherries would).

In the glass, the color’s nothing; it’s undifferentiated white wine product, visually unexceptional… but don’t be fooled. The nose is as subtly differentiated as a Rothko painting; subtle variations unfold towards the margins. The effect is akin to watching an Apichatpong Weerasethakul movie: in the center of the frame, a water buffalo escapes its post, slowly, leaving you to experience the beauty of the moment. This wine requires patience.

There are peaches, simple canned peaches, with a hint of the fresh linens worn by the cafeteria ladies who served you those peaches when you were in fourth grade. There are spices, refreshing and clean. They smell like Mom. There’s a wonderful, nutty oxidation, like a steel-green Chardonnay. The closest thing I’ve ever smelled to this was a sparkling Scheurebe from Saxony, all fresh bright fruits with a subversive edge of fresh sugar snap peas. If you’ve ever taken the time to watch – and I do mean really watch – a simple Dan Flavin sculpture of fluorescent tubes shimmering bright white light against a smooth concrete wall, you might have experienced something like the calm, hazy torpor this wine induces.

Alcohol, of which there is plenty, lends a fat happiness here, but thankfully relatively little heat. Not sweet, you can choose your own adventure here if you’re so inclined: this could be slightly oxidized Chardonnay, this could be from Franconia, this could be very fresh and clean. Peaches and cream, spice and almonds seem to be the main themes here; however, it’s only when it goes quiet that it really sings.

After the wine is gone – and I have no idea how the gods have arranged this – there’s that final, languid pause before unseen pleasures surprise you. If you’ve ever heard Evelyn Glennie play a note that she didn’t actually play, it’s something like that. This wine tastes like memory feels.

Scholium Project
Price: $24
Closure: Cork
Source: Retail

Curly Flat Chardonnay 2008

The temptation here is to begin a long, intricate, stupefying rant about Chardonnay styles and how, arguably, some Chardonnays are more equal than others. In the interests of retaining at least some of my readership, though, I will simply comment that this wine gives ample ammunition to those Chardonnay enthusiasts who feel a worked, White Burgundy style may just be le dernier mot.

The nose is a little friend made of fruit, wrapped in a prickly, woolen jumper. Firm white peach and peach skin, mostly, with the faintest hint of rich, fine pineapple syrup. It’s all very expressive and striking, even before you really give it the time it deserves. Especially distinctive is a thread of light, powdery charcoal. There’s plenty going on, but it’s also poised, such that one has the impression of a calm, ripple-free surface under which currents flow and mix with slippery ease.

There’s a mix of plump stonefruit, caramel and rich pastry on the palate whose closest relation seems to be a particularly fine tarte tatin. Lest this suggest a cloying richness that isn’t there, I should add that a run of ultra-fine acid, gathering steam through the middle and after palates, ensures this is altogether fresher and livelier than a baked dessert. There are many other flavours — herbs, citrus peel, aniseed, flink, oak, orange juice — such that there’s plenty to see, taste and touch. Excellent continuity of line and briskness over the tongue. This will age a treat, I reckon, hopefully becoming a bit more relaxed and comfortable with its fundamentally warm, soft flavour profile.

Utterly delicious Chardonnay.

Curly Flat
Price: $A42
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Gift

Scarborough White Label Chardonnay 2009

Few things over the past three or so years have been sufficient to drag me away from wine writing. Tasting and reflecting on wine is one of my greatest pleasures; if it weren’t, I certainly wouldn’t have co-created this site and spent so many hours contributing to it. Learning about wine is its own reward, and my involvement with the drink continues to surprise me as it takes new twists and turns.

The last couple of weeks have conspired, though, to reduce my output to zero. A gloriously non-alcoholic holiday, followed by a jet-lag infused first week back home and, finally, a messy chest cold have hardly inspired me to ponder the finer points of wine. Happily, the cold is under control, the jet-lag mostly gone and my post-holiday blues seem to be rapidly receding. What better opportunity to get back into things with this Hunter Valley Chardonnay?

I must write a whole article at some point about the intersection of taste, wine style and fashion. While on vacation, I read a slim but spectacularly interesting book about Celine Dion (yes, you read that right) that is perhaps the best summary of aesthetics by way of personal taste I’ve ever read. More on that soon; for now, suffice to say this wine embodies a firmly unfashionable style and does so with verve and dedication.

A rich, golden hue is followed by an aroma that showcases winemaking before all else. Yes, we’re in Worked Chardonnay territory here, and that will be enough to turn some drinkers off immediately. But, dammit, it shouldn’t; nothing this complex and generous ought to go unappreciated. There are grilled nuts, cream, a hint of honeycomb, herbs and finally some white stonefruit. It’s a very young wine, as evidenced by a sharpness to the aroma profile that is not entirely pleasant but which should soften with a little time.

The palate begins with the same sharpness, here translating as a slight bitterness, but quickly moves through to a set of flavours that tread an interesting line between freshly savoury and guiltily sweet. What’s clear is there’s quite firm structure at play, completely preventing the wine from being heavy or cloying. Although I’ve tasted more intense wines in this style, there’s significant impact as this hits the tongue, and its power carries right through the middle and after palates. A creamed honey lift starts towards the back of the mouth and coats the finish with a softness that counteracts a continuation of the slight bitterness that is this wine’s most distinctive flavour component. Very decent length, though a bit hot on the finish.

Hunter Chardonnay, thanks for welcoming me back.

Scarborough
Price: $A30
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Sample

Closerie des Alisiers Meursault Vieilles Vignes 2008

Onwards with my British supermarket wine odyssey. Last night I was browsing in a Sainsbury’s and gravitated to the “fine wine” section. Out jumped this little number, a village-level white Burgundy priced at a reasonable (in Australian terms) £20. Unlike the recent Tesco disappointment, this wine is not a house-branded wine.

An interesting nose, mutable and complex, showing by turns savoury minerality, rich peach syrup and lemon thyme. There’s a bit of marginally distracting sulfur that emphasises the savouriness of the aroma profile. Is it an attractive wine to smell? Not in a conventional sense; it’s too angular and too full of contrasts. But there’s a lot there and overall the aroma communicates a nice sense of sophistication.

The palate is shockingly acidic at first, and this acidity briefly masks an array of quite fabulous flavours. Things seem more coherent in the mouth than on the nose, due in part to a rounding out of each flavour component. The fruit is now juicy and fleshy, the nutty creaminess a much more significant influence. Add to this a buxom mouthfeel and the wine really starts to come alive as you work your way through the first glass. By way of criticism, intensity is only moderate, and this jars when placed against the plushness and weight of the wine. Also, the flavour profile as a whole continues to lack a sense of wholeness that one would ideally see, but each element is pleasing on its own terms, and I wonder whether a bit of a rest in bottle might bring things together.

Not bad at all.

Closerie des Alisiers
Price: £19.95
Closure: Cork
Source: Retail

Monte Xanic Chardonnay 2007

It’s a funny thing: if I stand up on the roof of my house, I can see Mexico. The city where I live used to be Mexican, most of the workers in Californian vineyards are Mexican, and yet finding Mexican wine in these parts is dang near impossible. Sure, San Diego’s just an hour’s drive away from the finest vineyards in Mexico – and yet it’s easier to find Uruguayan tannat or Romanian fetească albă here than a simple Chardonnay grown just down the road.

This bottle was retrieved from Costco Mexicali; I would hazard a guess that it represents solid middle class Chardonnay in Mexico. Given the high taxes on wine in Mexico, it’s roughly twice the cost a similarly positioned California chard would cost, which is a real shame.

The wine is strikingly clear, somewhat pale gold with a tinge of green. The nose is quintessentially Burgundian, with matchstick, cashew, and cream in abundance. There are also hints of pear and toasty oak as well as something approaching cherimoya.

Unabashedly fat, the first impression I get here is frankly that of a clumsy hommage to the likes of K-J Vintners Reserve chard. This doesn’t quite hold true, though, as there appears to be no residual sugar here; more tellingly, there is plenty of acidity on the back palate to hold off the initial creamy onslaught. Even so, the overall effect is of dairy cream candy a thousand miles away from Chablis – until the finish, that is, when the acidity takes over and almost allows the wine to finish on a refreshing note… almost.

This is a curious wine and damn near a very good one indeed. My only real problem here is that it seems to be somewhat undecided about what it wants to be: all signs point towards creamy, lees-y, over-the-top Californian chardonnay, and yet that finish betrays its European side more than anything else. Ultimately, though, it’s a lot more interesting than other wines in its price class and definitely worth checking out. (Just don’t try to bring more than one bottle back if you’re a California resident and you’re driving yourself back across the border – I learned the hard way that Draconian laws here will result in a lengthy detention in secondary inspection while la migra waits for you to empty all of your other bottles into a sink. Oops.)

Monte Xanic
Price: $20
Closure: Diam
Source: Retail

Domaine Rapet Père et Fils Pernand-Vergelesses Les Combottes 2007

I’ve enjoyed my recent foray into affordable white Burgundy from the 2007 vintage, and this wine from also-ran village Pernand-Vergelesses is one of my favourites so far. It’s slutty in the way only Chardonnay can be, yet retains a measure of restraint and a streak of minerality that make it difficult to write off as pure hedonism.

The nose, in fact, has evolved a significant mineral component that sits alongside billowy peach, caramel and fresh herbs. The aroma is rich and somewhat obvious, the latter in no way detracting from its deliciousness. Curiously, there’s also the smell of unscented soap, though the power of suggestion looms large over this impression.

One thing the aroma doesn’t do is adequately signal the generosity of the palate. It’s here the wine comes alive with gushy flavour, helped along by a mouthfeel that in less kind moments I might describe as “pumped up” but which here I shall call “slippery” and “voluptuous.” Funny how a single element can come across well or badly depending on its context. Though there’s enough acid to keep a mound of peaches and cream in line, there’s nothing especially racy or fine about the way this moves through the palate. No, this is designed for immediate gratification and proves a wine that’s ready to drink young doesn’t need to insult one’s intelligence.

Delicious and worthy.

Domaine Rapet Père et Fils
Price: $A30
Closure: Cork
Source: Retail

Domaine Dublère Savigny-les-Beaune 1er Cru Les Peuillets 2007

Interesting wine, this one. Compared to the Alain Chavy and Giaconda Chardonnays I had the other day, this is a much funkier, more discordant wine. So that’s three out of three; three Chardonnays with strikingly different fruit flavour profiles, leading to three completely different wines. This is as it should be; what becomes interesting now is how (or indeed whether) one pegs the wines at different levels of quality.

Certainly, this lacks a little in the conventional quality stakes; it’s moderately intense, there’s probably a bit too much sulfur to consider its presence a stylistic conceit, its flavours tumble over each other and collide inelegantly. And yet it’s quite magnetic in its chaotic fashion, and with each sip I become more interested in what it will tell me, in how it will disintegrate and recombine, and whether or not I’ll love it or feel repelled.

The aroma combines lean oak spice with sulfur, vanilla, clumsy bubblegum notes and an amalgam of citrus and bruised yellow peach. It’s hot and mealy and heady in turn, and although I can’t honestly describe it as pretty or luxurious — it’s not that sort of wine — its effect on me is consistent: I just keep wanting to smell it over and over again.

The palate shows a more straightforward character with juicy peach fruit taking centre stage. It’s a bit hot, perhaps, and the level of spicy oak may challenge some drinkers’ feel for ideal balance. As with the nose, however, there’s a magnetism to its character that cuts through what is a relatively dissonant flavour profile and, on some level, brings an odd coherence to the style. The middle palate comes closest to the sense of luxe that many Chardonnay drinkers will value, but it’s fleeting and almost ironic in its transition to a much more sculpted, slightly bitter after palate and finish. A lovely mealy texture is surely a highlight.

Facinating.

Domaine Dublère
Price: $A40
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Retail