A true sense of discovery is one of the most exciting and, for we jaded drinkers, rarest pleasures in wine, especially when it concerns an object of some familiarity like Shiraz. There are any number of sound, delicious expressions of this variety around the world, some more distinctive than others. But to stumble across a region that seems capable of something truly new is rare. With this Cayuse wine, I feel confident that Walla Walla, in Washington state, is one such region.

This isn’t the first Cayuse wine I’ve tried. Several years ago, Chris shared the Cailloux Syrah with me and, looking back on my notes, I was quite blown away by it. Since being in the States again, I’ve tasted two further Cayuse wines, of which this is the second (and best). They are unified by an entirely peculiar flavour profile, filled with savouriness and angularity, spiced but not warm, full but not plush. Winemaking seems consistently clever, with oak and reduction used delicately to season cores of distinctive fruit flavour.

This particular wine, though showing a consistency of regional and house style, blows the roof off in terms of layered complexity. It’s terrifically vibrant, with aromas of dark berries, meat, spice and reduction, each well balanced with respect to the whole. It’s both sinewy and muscular, bouncing between an almost floral dimension to the depths of savouriness and back again, like a fragrance no-one would dare make. So pure, so elegant.

The palate maintains form, a certain heft being offset by the wine’s fundamentally angular set of flavours. This is a big wine, but it’s not a blockbuster, and this balance between body and delicacy is a key pleasure. There’s real definition here, each group of flavours shooting down the line with clarity and freshness. Palate structure is firm without undue assertiveness; the focus here is very much on a kaleidoscopic flavour profile, moving from sweet to savoury, almost-plush to linear. It’s quite a performance.

Tasting this wine was an invigorating experience, like immersing one’s self in a novel that yields a new pleasure with each page. I will be watching Walla Walla Syrah.

Cayuse Vineyards
Price: $NA
Closure: Cork
Source: Gift

Damn it, some wines just smell good. I came home from work, cracked a bottle of the 2002 Clonakilla Hilltops syrah, and wound up with a huge snootful of Brett and mousy band-aid aromas. Yuck. Poured that one down the sink, grabbed the other bottle sitting next to the coffeemaker, twisted off the cap, and boom: vinuous Nirvana.If you like your shiraz, er, syrah cofermented wtih some viognier for that patented Côte-Rôtie effect, this stuff will do you just fine. Wonderful notes of roasted nuts, bacon fat slide on up out of the glass and say hello; gentle floral aromas of iris root suffus it all in a gauzy Brian de Palma glow; the effect is of a beautiful young woman drinking Russian tea in the springtime.OK, that was ridiculously over-the-top, even for me. All I can really say is this: Damn, that’s beautiful, and a tough act to follow: somewhat disappointingly, the wine doesn’t taste anywhere as good as it smells. The entry onto the palate is clumsy, the body doesn’t seem quite as rich and filling as the nose would promise, it could use a little bit more acidity perhaps, and yet the finish is just fine, flavors fanning out into a truly lovely array of mostly fresh, grape-y flavors.The difference between a good wine and a great wine? Try a bottle of this, then a bottle of the Clonakilla shiraz viognier, the Columbia Crest reserve syrah, or something properly French and see for yourself. Full marks to the winemakers here for producing such a wonderful nose, but the rest of it just doesn’t live up to the promises that the glass offers up. Shame.Dusted Valley
Price: $25
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Retail

At first smell, all I could think was “hey, this doesn’t smell American at all!” Unlike every other Washington syrah I’ve smelled, this wine gives me flashbacks to the Red Baron wine bar in Paris where I spent two lovely evenings drinking my way through obscure French wine regions just a few months ago.

Surprisingly, the nose is brutally thin, very mineral, with a very faint hint of the warmer Washingtonian climate almost totally obscured by what I can only imagine is old world winemaking: instead of plush, Australian raspberry jam, what you get is cold, austere, frankly barnyardy (but not Brett-y) funk edged with dirt. It’s quite a shock, especially as I had expected something quite different: Cayuse are a tiny, boutique, mailing-list-only producer, and even if the winemaker is French, I had just assumed that this would be a big, lush syrah something like the (amazingly delicious) John Duval-produced Sequel syrah, which is apparently from Walla Walla as well, just as this wine is – and yet this Cayus wine is utterly different from Duval’s.

It’s when you finally treat yourself to a sip of this that the New World components become apparently: there’s a fullness, a thickness that I wouldn’t associate with traditional Rhône wine that’s a thrilling counterpart to the austerity of the nose. Flavors are mostly in the realm of cured tobacco, black fruits, dried cherries, and just a hint of sourness to keep it all in check; there’s also a kind of burnt sugar sweetness that isn’t sugar, just sweetness that’s delightful as well. The finish does stay around for a while, reminding me somehow of Victorian toiletries (and I mean that in a good way: it’s like a once-popular floral scent that went out of fashion shortly before your grandparents got married), with a wonderful wood-coffee smoothness that leaves you very, very happy that you got to drink some of this wine.

Cayuse
Price: $45
Closure: Cork
Date tasted: December 2008