Née Watervale.
Grosset
Price: $A31
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Retail
Née Watervale.
Grosset
Price: $A31
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Retail
“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
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.
Clonakilla
Price: $A25
Closure: Stelvin
The 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.
Karra Yerta Wines
Price: $A25
Closure: Stelvin
I have absolutely no idea how this bottle found its way into my cellar, but I suppose it was bought in Australia as there doesn’t seem to be anywhere in the USA where I can buy another bottle of this, which is a shame.Wonderfully honeyed gold in the glass, there’s a squant of orange tint here as well; it’s clear that this wine is old, beautifully so. The perfume is subtle and hints at dessert wines; it’s eerily, subtly orange and vaguely reminds me of liqueur muscat, but of course it’s terrifically dry. Surprisingly young in terms of taste, the aged kero characteristic are upstaged by what I suppose are textural quirks; this wine has a novel mouth feel, strangely full, offset by a sort of white-flower effect that is reminiscent of a previous generation’s floral perfume.The line here is also somewhat odd; relatively straightforward, the wine eventually peters out into a subtly spicy finish which largely hides the acidity here, which briefly makes an appearance well after the wine has been drunk. In terms of flavor profile, it’s really much more like a delicate Belgian lager than anything else, with hints of orange blossom and spice. Probably not drunk best on its own, this seems to be crying out for spicy stir fry which is sadly lacking in my house at the moment.Incredible value for money, it seems to me that this wine still has a long life ahead of it. If you’ve got it, drink it, but it likely wouldn’t hurt to hang on for a few years yet.Leo Buring (but really Fosters)
Price: $10
Closure: Cork
A nose that shows some development, with typically honeyed, toasty, almost kerosene-like aromas. There’s also a thrust of powdery minerality, savoury and strident, perhaps slightly sulphurous, pushing up from below. What little citrus fruit there is sits delicately within this mix, more floral than fleshy in character. As an overall aroma profile, I found it initially cumbersome and loud, but have warmed considerably to its charms through the evening.
Best’s Wines
Price: $A20.89
Closure: Stelvin
There’s not much left here by way of fruit, only a muted quince-like suggestion of faded summer apples long since dried. At first glance, this could almost pass for a severely dry English cider, but there’s also an interesting subtle perfume of talc and (almost) roses mixed in with that tell-tale kero smell that quickly hides itself from the rest. All in all, what there is on the nose is slight, elegant, delicate: this isn’t a screamer.At first apparently sleep with almost a slight spritz left, it turns out to not be sweet at all. Surprisingly (to me, at any rate), the acidity isn’t as searing as I would have expected (I have memories of tasting their 2002 at the cellar door in Denmark (I think it was) and being taken aback at the sheer nerve of the thing). The overall effect is of a very soft wine with some acidity at the tail, almost flabby (but not quite), with very still apple-y flavors and a moderately short finish. The overall effect is quite like seeing a cover band play your favorite band’s songs: it’s good enough to remind you why you like that band in the first place, yet also not good enough for you to really break right down and enjoy it.Then again, it turns out that all this wine really needed was to warm up just a bit from its ice bath. Served slightly warmer than usual, it mellow out into a lovely wine that still has distant glimpses of freshness; the overall effect is strangely English – it’s like a genteel, polite floral drink best served with cucumber sandwiches. I do like it and yet I’m not bowled over by the style; a bit of residual sugar would do wonders towards making this a great wine. I’m glad to see that Howard Park are now doing that and suspect their greatest success might lie with a sweeter style – especially after lengthy bottle ageing.Howard Park
Price: $20
Closure: Stelvin
If memory serves correctly, this is the fourth bottle of this wine I’ve drunk. The first I enjoyed in Perth in September 2002; the second a few years ago in Seattle, the third in March of 2008, and now it’s time to revisit it again. Julian had a bottle last July; I wrote about it last March, and here we are again.Impossibly light, this wine reminds me of goose fat, smoking autumn leaves, rose petals that have lost their sweetness, tarragon, and hay. What fruit there is stone: peach and apricot, slightly dried. A sip of this is revelation: it’s rich, thick, full, wonderfully situated in the mouth. A swallow thins it all out, leaving gentle talc, an amazingly length finish of minerals and pale honeys, full acidity that leaves your mouth watering for more, more, more. The closest wine this comes to (for me, at any rate) is vintage Champagne; there’s almost the same order of toastiness here which I find surprising and entrancing. This wine has moved emphatically beyond the lime-soaked babe I remember from 2002 and into an entirely other world: this is dead serious and tastes like it should have cost the earth, which it thankfully didn’t.There’s no sweetness here to speak of but is there light? Yes, abundantly so.[Postscript: I didn’t read Julian’s note until after writing this one – and yes, Julian, I don’t detect any petrol here at all. I’m not sure what I was thinking when I wrote that earlier note last year – I suppose I was just being lazy in describing the wine, going not with what I actually perceived but instead cribbing from the default Aged Aussie Riesling note. My apologies.]Grosset
Price: $26
Closure: Cork
Lately, I’ve been thinking about wine styles and how some come to be defined as classics over time. In a way, it’s more complex than the literary canon, for example, in which a single, unchanging artifact is evaluated and re-evaluated over time. With wine, a particular combination of variety and region remains static but a whole set of variables — everything from particular vintage conditions to winemaking to long term climatic variations — ensures a constant evolution. So, how to pin down the essentials?
With respect to the apparent fashion towards wine labels that consist of cryptic collections of letters and, at times, numbers, I’m not a fan. To be honest, it reminds me too much of the sort of corporate-speak that surrounds me every day; when I come home, I’d rather sit down to something vaguely romantic and aspirational instead of a label that describes the result of a scientific trial.