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Ten Minutes by Tractor 2008 single vineyard wines

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Recently, the very straightforward General Manager of Mornington Peninsula-based producer Ten Minutes by Tractor, Chris Hamilton, asked me to write some tasting notes for the winery’s use. I mention this both by way of disclosure and to make a particular observation. When I talked with Chris about the brief, I assumed he wanted the typically concise, descriptive notes one often sees attached to wine marketing material. Instead, he asked me to write in the style of my notes on this site. 

When I write for Full Pour, my intent is far from commercial and so, I believe, are the resultant notes. So it fascinated me that a producer might want to commission similar material, complete with the extravagances of length and style in which I often indulge. 
It pleases me to note all the wines tasted were good. The single vineyard labels, however, stand out as the most authentic representation of what Ten Minutes by Tractor is doing. I tasted two Chardonnays (Wallis and McCutcheon) and three Pinot Noirs (Wallis, McCutcheon and Judd). All vineyards are in the Main Ridge sub-region of the Mornington Peninsula, just ten minutes away from each other as the tractor flies. The material provided to me included copious information about vineyard elevations, clones, viticulture and winemaking. The approach strikes me in general as somewhat obsessive, and in particular as striving towards an understanding of differences between wines wrought by specific variables between vineyards. This is the mad scientist approach to the aesthetics of wine, and I love it.
These notes are my own personal write-ups, different from those provided to the winery for is use.
Wallis Vineyard Chardonnay 2008


Instant cool climate Chardonnay with a fireside warmth twist. The aroma shows crushed rocks, lean oak, oatmeal and predominantly grapefruit-like citrus. It’s quite savoury and austere in a way, but there’s a glimmer of enticing warmth at its core, like a candle shining in the midst of a winter snowstorm. I think this flows from a real funkiness to the aroma, something slightly off-center and quirky, that adds humanity to what can sometimes be a rather robotic Chardonnay style. 
The palate trades on this tension between cool collectedness and a flavour profile that teases with its darting cuddliness. It’s all fine and poised, with a pleasingly slippery mouthfeel and the sort of detail that rewards slow drinking. Overall, this is a really subtle wine, low-key and humble, but full of interest too. Quietly seductive.
McCutcheon Vineyard Chardonnay 2008 
Both different from and strikingly similar to the Wallis wine. This is altogether more powerful and direct, with an aroma full of thrust and parry, pure citrus fruit, spice and mealiness. Its power is well controlled, and if I were to characterise the aroma profile to set it apart from the Wallis, I’d say this is cooler, more chiselled, perhaps more detailed, certainly more masculine. Fascinating that viticulture and winemaking were essentially identical for both wines.
The entry shows a nice cut of minerality alongside more citrus and vanilla spice. There’s a soothing caress of viscosity on the palate which balances out robust acidity and makes way for fruit flavours to express themselves. The after palate is full of pithy grapefruit and the finish shows really refreshing bitterness, in the most positive sense. I reckon this will get better over the medium term (5 years or so). 
McCutcheon Vineyard Pinot Noir 2008


One thing I noticed across all the single vineyard Pinots was their lack of colour density. The hues themselves are most attractive and fresh, but each wine is quite see-through, which I feel is one of the pleasures of this variety. I love how something so insubstantial-looking can be so powerful.
The nose here seems ideally balanced between varietal sour cherry and a catalogue of spices, damp earth and the sweetness of char siu. It’s all quite seamless, moving through its modes with no bumpiness or pause. On entry, good intensity without heaviness. It’s immediately complex, with seemingly all parts of the cherry (pulp, skin, pips) included in the lovely flavour profile. The middle palate introduces some sticky caramel before nicely textured acidity sweeps in to move one through the after palate. Grainy tannins adds to the mouthfeel and help with persistence through the finish. 
For drinking now, my favourite of the three single vineyard Pinots, thanks to its beautiful balance.
Wallis Vineyard Pinot Noir 2008 
If the McCutcheon is a dilettante, spreading itself across all its elements equally, the Wallis Vineyard Pinot is the specialist, diving deep into a particular expression of Pinot that is more mysterious and difficult to unravel.
The aroma’s first impression is of thick impenetrability. There are layers of spiced wood, sour cherries, vanilla and undergrowth, all swirling to form a dense fabric of smells that is quite hard to tease apart. There’s a lovely sappiness that arcs over the aroma too, which tends to unify the elements and provide some light. 
There’s slightly more fruit emphasis in the mouth, though it remains a seriously dark expression of cherry. It’s concentrated and savoury, no one aspect dominating yet with the whole existing in a subterranean place, compact and firm. Texture is wonderful, with plenty of tannins emerging on the middle palate and continuing down the line, and a subdued acid line running the whole length. There’s a dip in intensity as the wine progresses down its line and this, combined with the tightly held flavour profile, suggests the Wallis more than the other two Pinots will benefit from bottle age. 
Judd Vineyard Pinot Noir 2008

This wine is tangibly different again from the Wallis and McCutcheon. One obvious difference from a viticultural perspective is this vineyard is planted to the 115 Pinot clone, as opposed to the others which carry MV6. 115 is known for its more straightforwardly fruity flavour profile, and this comes through into the finished wine. 
A deeply spiced aroma profile that is nonetheless dominated by heady, ripe cherries and fresh plum pulp. More in-your-face than the other two wines, this is openly seductive in character. It’s all curves and femininity, quite voluptuous really.
The way it enters the mouth is wild: an initial pause followed by a dramatic enlargement of  scale that is quite surprising. After wedging your palate open, it supplies gobs of sweet fruit onto the tongue. The fruit character is very pretty, all maraschino cherries framed by attractive tartness. Some oak is present in support, and is well matched to the fruit. I just can’t get over the physical aspects of this wine’s feel in the mouth, though; this alone makes it worth experiencing, for its sensuality but also its sophistication. A very long finish.

Ten Minutes by Tractor
Price: $55-70
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Sample

Tahbilk Eric Stevens Purbrick Shiraz 2004

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People seem to have very strong reactions to Tahbilk’s red wines; not like or dislike so much as love or hate. I wonder both why this is and what it means; in any case I’m tempted, from an aesthetic perspective, to value Tahbilk’s wines all the more highly because of it. Increasingly, I am impatient with wines that don’t display intent beyond correctness and technical perfection. Especially at a price point such as this, I feel we ought as drinkers to demand personality, a provocation, a point of view.

So, for lovers of Tahbilk reds, here’s one for you. It’s the companion wine to the Cabernet Sauvignon tasted a while back and, while I don’t like it quite as much as that wine, it’s unmistakably of this maker. The nose is expressive and grainy, with red earth, gum leaf, rustic fruits, nuts, some vanilla. The trick it pulls off is to be both distinctive and multi-dimensional, which is rarer than one might think. 
The palate is pure elegance and moderation. Not to suggest intensity of flavour is the casualty; in fact, this is quite a piercing wine in its way. Entry is fruit-driven and soft, with berry juice flavours and a sense of warm sunlight pushing the wine towards an earthy, detailed middle palate. As with the Cabernet, and most Tahbilk red wines it seems, the tannins are especially remarkable, here being both smotheringly textural (like a woolen blanket) and somehow unobtrusive too. It’s medium bodied, with bright-enough acidity and a clean, brisk flow through the mouth. The after palate sings cleanly with savoury dark fruits, and the finish is gentle and elegant, not to mention bloody long. A slight excess of sweet oak towards the end of the line is almost forgivable.
Regional, complex and authentic. 

Tahbilk
Price: $A60
Closure: Cork
Source: Sample

Clayfield Black Label Shiraz 2002

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“Go to town on this one.”

So said Simon Clayfield as he gave me this bottle during a recent visit to the Grampians. We had just finished tasting through his range and, of the 2006 Shiraz, he remarked the spice had receded, but would be back. As an example of what it might become, he suggested I try the 2002 wine, noting it is drinking well and showing plenty of spice character.

He wasn’t wrong. This is essential Grampians Shiraz, a regional style that appeals to me very much. Of course, quality matters even in the context of an attractive style, though it can be more difficult to sort through. Spotting a diamond in the rough is easy; sifting through wines that you like right off the bat for their collective flavour profile necessitates a closer look to stratify quality.

This wine, in any case, is top shelf. The spice notes here — in fact the aroma profile in general — is both regional and quite transcendent of its origins, being utterly integrated and complex in its intense exoticism. There’s an enveloping blanket of spice and pepper, akin to a fine curry of the highest order, a multitude of ingredients fusing into a single wall of finely detailed fragrance. Great wines taste of themselves first and foremost.

Notable is the oak character, which is perfectly matched in character to the aroma profile, bringing a cedar influence up to, but stopping some way short of, the spicy fruit.

In the mouth, what’s immediately striking is a burst of fresh plum fruit atop what devolves into a cascade of aged, sweet leather, more spice and a well integrated structure. The high toned flavours are almost overwhelming in their intensity and persistence, and might threaten to unbalance the wine were it not for a firm line of plum underlining the whole. While the mid-palate shows the greatest concentration of spice, the after palate reveals a liquerous expression of plum-like fruit, bringing a sense of harmony to the flavour components and a curiously fresh resolution to the overall profile.

This wine was an interesting counterpoint to the 05 Castagna Un Segreto tasted immediately prior to it. I’d characterise the Castagna as in many ways a baroque wine; sinewy, complex, full of intertwining themes that echo and complement each other, but with a slightly hard aesthetic that tilts away from sensuality at times. This, by contrast, is like a Debussy tone poem; its face is atmospheric, its mood emotional, its construction crystalline. Fucking beautiful.

Clayfield Wines
Price: $NA
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Sample

Castagna Un Segreto 2005

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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.

Castagna
Price: $NA
Closure: Diam
Source: Gift

Sorrenberg Chardonnay 2008

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Dinner with family in Melbourne on Friday evening was enhanced by the provision of this bottle. Thanks to my cousin Travis — who continues the Coldrey line as far as an obsession with wine is concerned — for his generosity in supplying all the evening’s drinks. My first Sorrenberg Chardonnay and I’m favourably impressed.
A powerful, worked style that, in the first instance, is most notable for the richness of its fruit flavours. Nectarine, fig and some grapefruit all intermingle within an aroma that also throws a range of caramel and oatmeal notes. There’s significant complexity and scale, but the confident, seductive aromas themselves are what draw me to this wine.
The palate follows through on all aspects of the nose, showing a forthright, complex range of flavours. Good presence and consistency along the entire line. A couple of points, then. Firstly, this isn’t a wine for those fixated on the current vogue for lean Chardonnay styles. The lushness and luxe inherent to the fruit and style are quite contrary to a more minerally, austere expression of Chardonnay. And that’s OK. Secondly, this is a wine to sip and savour, not necessarily to drink in large volumes. Certainly, I helped my dinner companions to finish our bottle with ease. But as I drank more, a cracked toffee note through the back palate became slightly dominant, pushing fruit and savoury characters out of the way to the detriment of the wine’s overall balance. Still, a minor quibble over what is an impressive wine of some beauty.Sorrenberg
Price: $NA
Closure: Cork
Source: Gift

Clayfield Wines

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I sometimes become intellectually lazy if immersed in something for too long. Perhaps it’s a universal experience or simply a personal failing; in any case, one of the great pleasures of any long term endeavour is to reach a tipping point of challenge and stimulation where jaded complacency gives way to renewed enthusiasm.

I mention this not simply in passing; this afternoon, I spent several wonderful hours tasting wines with Simon Clayfield. The wines were his current (and some previous) releases under the Clayfield Wines label.  I’ve written about Clayfield Wines before and confess to have enjoyed them beyond reasonable measure; to me, these are wines of immense integrity and appeal.

The process of tasting them at length with their maker was in some respects daunting. Clearly — and unsurprisingly, given I am but an enthusiastic amateur — the sophistication of his palate far surpasses my own, so it was as much a learning experience as anything else. What was fascinating, though, was to understand the common thread that holds these wines together, and how this might relate to a certain philosophy of wine.

What they are not is superficially uniform. Variation between vintages and labels is striking, so much so that it was a challenge, at first, to relate the wines to one another in a meaningful way. They do in fact relate, and quite profoundly, but there isn’t anything so obvious as, say, showy oak or a put-upon style on which to hang one’s tasting hat. What unifies this portfolio, and perhaps Mr Clayfield’s approach in general, is a pragmatic response to vintage variation and site character combined with an uncompromising attitude towards balance.

These overriding principles make sense of a portfolio of Grampians Shiraz wines whose alcohol levels range from about 13% to 15.8% abv (in the case of the 2008 Thomas Wills Shiraz) and whose styles move from elegantly spicy and medium bodied to full-throttle, dense and quite tannic. Indeed, once finished tasting, I felt as if I’d had a glimpse into the region’s full potential, which is an impressive achievement within a single portfolio of wines.

The 2005 Black Label wine prompted me to suggest perceptible alcohol isn’t necessarily a fault. This is certainly out of step with the current vogue for elegant, medium bodied styles, but I reiterate my feelings here and provide the 2008 Massif and 2008 Thomas Wills wines as ample evidence in support of this position. Both show some alcohol on the nose and palate (keeping in mind our tasting conditions included a 42 degree Summer’s day), yet remain coherent expressions of Shiraz that are refreshing and food-friendly. Most importantly, these wines show balance, in the sense that no one element stands out to the detriment of the others.

The 2008 Massif Shiraz ($A25) changed enormously in the glass. Starting quite big, with some port-like aromas, I found it initially challenging, as I rarely enjoy a fortified character in red table wines. As it cooled a little, the wine freshened considerably, evolving its aromas through several stages to end at ripe plum, cherry pips and olive. The palate is luscious and rich, not at all overripe, with fabulously smooth tannins and a sense of expressive, accessible fun. This is the closest Clayfield Wines comes to an early drinking wine, in the sense that it is open and generous, though showing a sense of complexity that other wines at this price point would do well to emulate.

The 2008 Thomas Wills ($A35) is a curious wine, conceptually. The intent here is to reference an outmoded red wine style of the sort that might have been drunk a hundred years ago, perhaps before striding out to face a renowned fast bowler in a game of cricket. I described it while tasting as an “anti-fashion” wine, and it stands alongside wines such as those from Wendouree in terms of its independence from the prevailing vinous norms.

To the wine itself, this is altogether tighter than the Massif, showing more complex aromas of rich aniseed and almonds alongside robust dark fruits. As with all the wines I tasted, mouthfeel is striking, here showing a round, textured presence through the middle palate and beautifully fine, silt-like tannins that melt onto the back of the tongue. This is a beautiful wine, coiled and tight for now, with a depth of fruit and power only hinted at. The alcohol is absolutely in balance within the context of this style, seeming to enhance flavours on both nose and palate, similarly to how salt might bring out the inherent flavours in a particular dish.

Oak handling on both these wines is quite different, yet very sympathetically done in both cases. This positive oak treatment is in line with my notes for previous Clayfield wines and clearly a strong point for this maker.

The 2006 Black Label Shiraz ($A45), which is the premium label, is all potential at the moment. It’s very aromatic, with almonds and other high toned aromas sitting atop powerful, but restive, spice and plum fruit. The dots may not be connected right now, but they are all there and it seems what is needed is simply time. The palate shows a remarkably elegant flavour profile, with the sort of seamlessness one always finds in the best wines. Classic Grampians concentrated plum fruit and spice, shored up by an abundance of chalk-like tannins. This will be fabulous.

According to the most recent newsletter, the 2004 Massif Shiraz is currently available as a museum release at $A40. A riotously expressive nose, with brown spices (cardamom-like), a good whiff of iodine, subtle but glossy cedar oak and some char siu, all atop regional fruit in the fresh plum spectrum. We spent some time discussing the iodine character, which is really distinctive and reminiscent of the seaside and Betadine swabs in turn.  The palate is light to medium bodied and, structurally, there’s still a lot here. Definitely one for those who enjoy classically styled, lighter wines, it shows a sense of balance that is quite different from, say, the 2008 Massif.

The 2004 Massif comes from a single (non-Estate) vineyard on an East-facing slope, which is shaded in the afternoon and, hence, develops quite different flavour characteristics from sites that receive more sunlight late in the day. This is strikingly, almost blatantly, obvious in the wine. There’s a sense of honesty here; a transparent view into the fruit that isn’t so much about “minimal intervention” (whatever that means) but which is all about understanding the best expression of a particular site in a particular vintage, and working to highlight this character above all else. I feel with this wine I am tasting the vineyard and year, which is, after all, the point of great wine.

The 2001 Black Label Shiraz was a real treat for me, as it’s the first Clayfield wine I’ve tasted with evident age. On the strength of this, I’ll be ensuring I always leave a few aside each vintage. Initially, a big hit of ripe banana, which is apparently related to the particular yeast used. This blew off after a while, revealing the most floral aroma profile of all the wines tasted. It smells of classic Grampians Shiraz but also, lightly, of juicy green flowers and honeydew melon. It’s the freshness of watermelon skin and aloe vera, and it adds a fascinating dimension to this wine. A small percentage of Chardonnay may be a contributor here.

On the palate, there are some deliciously leathery aged characters just beginning to peep out alongside a structure showing hints of that wonderfully limpid quality of older red wines. It’s far from old, though, with masses of primary fruit and interest. The whole is very clean, and shows a sense of relaxation and ease that is quite beguiling. It reminded me a bit of the 2005 Black Label in its round, luxurious mouthfeel. This is a wine to make you feel smart if you drink it with dinner; casual elegance, effortless sophistication.

I felt humbled and somewhat demolished after tasting through the range. They are without exception excellent wines, all of which I would be happy (indeed fortunate) to have on my table. Yet their differences challenged me at first. I suppose that’s what happens when you begin to understand something more deeply. My experience of the Grampians until now has been mediated by some flagship wines that are distinctive and beautiful in their own right (Seppelt St Peters, Bests Bin 0, Langi, Clayfield Black Label), plus a smattering of lower priced labels with a similar, less amplified, regional character.

What the Clayfield wines gave me is a view into the fabric of the region, full of site and vintage variation, leading to wines of uniformly high interest but wonderfully diverse character and style. I felt I had zoomed in for a closer look, and the closer I came, the more there was to see. That’s a deeply exciting thing for a wine lover to feel, as it promises exploration and inexhaustible interest.

How nice, then, to have a guide like Simon Clayfield, who, quite apart from being a technically accomplished winemaker, imparts a sense of appropriateness to all the wines he touches. His is a different approach from the winemaker who imposes a certain character irrespective of what the season might be saying. There’s a celebration of diversity in the Clayfield portfolio, of responding to nature and a particular moment in time, seeking to bring out the best in each opportunity to make wine.

Tahbilk Eric Stevens Purbrick Cabernet Sauvignon 2004

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It’s appropriate, I suppose, at this time of year to feel grateful for a variety of things. For example, I’m grateful my liver continues to function effectively. It also strikes me I ought to be grateful for wines like this; wines that are held back for release, are strongly regional, and of exemplary quality. Mostly, though, I’m grateful to be enjoying such a lovely wine tonight.

A sweet nose — sweet in a cedar, eucalypt, earthy sort of way — that gives up very little to the  imperative of varietal correctness. There’s enough recognisably Cabernet fruit, though, to satisfy the purists. Ultimately, it is what it is and, for my tastes, the aroma is wonderfully comforting, in addition to being complex and balanced and all those serious things. 
The palate strikes me with its sense of appropriateness. It never rises above medium bodied, yet is a lesson in generosity and mature balance. On entry, lithe gum leaf and cassis wind around each other, giving way to a more textural expression of detailed fruit and earth as the wine makes its way through the mid-palate. There’s plenty of complex flavour within the context of the style, which remains doggedly elegant. The after palate dries with still-abundant tannins, quite chalky in character. They carry sweet fruit through a very long finish. Given the structure here, I’ve no doubt a few more years in bottle would yield pleasing results; I’m happy with the wine right now, though, especially in accompaniment to a cheese platter. 
Tremendously enjoyable wine.

Tahbilk
Price: $A60
Closure: Cork
Source: Sample

Tahbilk Cabernet Sauvignon 2006

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There are lots of nice things about this wine, but I just can’t get over the tannins. They are awesome. 

I’ve been tasting this over three nights and only now, on the third evening, is it beginning to tire. The nose shows as much sweet earth as it does Cabernet cassis and leaf, so one might describe this expression of the grape as “regional.” As an aside, I find certain regions quite fascinating for the overriding effect they seem to have on some varieties. Hunter does it to reds, and so does Canberra. They taste more of their geographic provenance than anything else, and so it is too with this wine. There’s ample volume and expressiveness here, which conspire to deliver a wine one doesn’t easily tire of smelling.
In the mouth, a velvet ride of sweet tannin plushness. There’s more than just tannin, of course, but I keep coming back to them as the foundation, both structural and aesthetic, of this wine. On entry, immediate red fruited goodness pushed along by fine, balanced acidity and a twang of orange juice-like sourness. Everything comes together on the middle palate, clean fruit colliding with rich soil and a hint of unexpected minerality. Texturally, an abundance of ripe tannins provides both firmness and a sense of luxury. The whole is medium bodied, with good balance and an overarching sense of down home drinkability. The after palate and finish are admirably focused, with both fruit and structure moving seamlessly through the mouth and lingering on in the form of Angostura Bitters flavour and a dry, more-ish mouthfeel.
Really nice wine, and exceptional value considering its pedigree and character. The regional style may not be to everyone’s taste, but it appeals to me greatly. 

Tahbilk
Price: $A20
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Sample

Tahbilk Marsanne 2009

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Authenticity in the realm of luxury brands is one of those difficult-to-define qualities that, ironically, is terribly easy to spot. For example, Hermès has it, Louis Vuitton doesn’t. QED. It can also, once possessed, be lost; see Vacheron Constantin or RM Williams.  In the case of Australian wine, Tahbilk is one of those wineries that seems to effortlessly exude a sense of history and authenticity, which is laudable in itself, but doubly so considering its reputation rests in part on some wines that, let us say, aren’t exactly at the forefront of vinous fashion.

Take this Marsanne. It’s arguably Australia’s cheapest most undervalued icon wine, made from a variety that, until the recent elevation of interest in white Rhône varieties, was pretty much off the radar. Ask an Australian wine geek and, chances are, they will acknowledge this wine as a classic, certainly sui generis in the history of Australian wine and one that continues to stand with few peers today. 
Given this legacy, it’s lovely to sit down to a glass of the 2009 Marsanne this afternoon and find not only a nice wine, but a familiar friend too. This is the real deal, with aromas of preserved lemon, pineapple and other, similarly pungent, yellow things. It’s a very appealing, fresh aroma profile, really direct in the way it communicates its composition, even if it is necessarily straightforward as a very young wine.
The palate has a couple more tricks up its sleeve, relating to structure and mouthfeel. But first, the entry is solid and quite immediate, with lots of lemons and unripe nectarines filling the mouth, underlined by quite textural acidity. As a fuller white variety, this really swells towards the middle palate, intensity remaining measured and the whole delicate within the confines of the style. The after palate and finish are interesting in that they show a waxed lemon attitude that I would expect to appear further down the wine’s development line. A promising sign? 
You really can’t go wrong with this wine. Personally, having been inducted into the pleasures of this with a few years’ bottle age, I’d be drinking some now and stashing the rest in a cellar. Surely the cheapest way to get your aged white wine kicks?

Tahbilk
Price: $A15
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Sample

Tahbilk Shiraz 2006

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I have a mini-fascination for wine labels, both new and, especially, old. A case of Tahbilk samples arrived the other day with a media pack, the first two pages of which focus entirely on the new label design being rolled out across the range. As someone who has an affection for Tahbilk’s terminally daggy yellow label, I was initially disappointed to see the modern, cleanly graphic design now applied to most wines in the range. But on closer examination, I’m forced to admit it’s a very successful design, engaging key aspects of the older label without creating an excessively modern look. 

The wine itself echos its label, a veneer of contemporary oak overlaying gleefully old-fashioned aromas and flavours. The nose is mostly savoury and slightly elusive, modulating between bubblegum and baked goods but never settling on either. It’s actually quite hard to describe, and the closest I can come is the smell and taste of blackberries that are, somehow, robbed of their sugar, leaving an appealingly plump, yet savoury, fleshiness. 
The palate amplifies this impression, a determinedly savoury core of dark berry fruit running its full length. Quite relaxed on entry, a peachy plushness develops towards the middle palate thanks to dense fruit flavours and chocolate-like tannins. It’s medium bodied and friendly, which masks to an extent the honest rusticity of its flavour profile, kind of like a farmer who scrubs up especially well. A slight objection is the prominence of nougat-like oak, which seems at times unnecessarily assertive. The after palate is dry and fruit-driven, with a slightly liqueur-like flavour. A surprisingly long, satisfying finish, filled with residual berry flavour and seductive oak.
A good wine and exceptional value for money, I reckon.

Tahbilk
Price: $A20
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Sample