Vinoculation

There is something about NZ Pinot Gris that I have, until now, not appreciated. The clean, conventional yet boring wines bottled and consumed within a year of vintage have been the extent of my New Zealand Pinot Gris tasting of late. I just opened a Neudorf Moutere 05’ Pinot Gris. I am bias and believe that the sun shines on Neudorf in a beautiful vein, but supposed prejudice aside; I was still enthralled with this wine.

I served it because I had a guest who was arriving late to a dinner party and  wanted white…. we had all moved on to red 5 wines ago but she had the decency to ring ahead to announce her arrival with a “white please” when asked her poison of preference.

She arrived, and in true beer guzzler fashion proceeded to engulf a glass of the afore mentioned elixir. Yet I could see it in her non-wine addicted eye, that turning point, where one says to oneself… ah I understand.

I was drinking a biodynamic single vineyard Tempranillo/Syrah from Hood River in Oregon which was spectacular in its own right. But the nose on the Pinot Gris pulled me right back into white tasting mode.

Waxy, not in the beeswax kind but in the generic candle wax aroma. Lashings of honey, ripe apples, pear and fresh stone fruit also flesh out the nose. The delicious waxy notes were accompanied by mineral and moss highlights which carried though both nose and palate and reminded me of older Hunter Valley Semillon.

Now thinking this to myself I recalled being blind tasted a few months ago on another Pinot Gris from NZ, again an 05 but from Isabel Estates… wow again the same waxy, honey, delisiousness, that is hard to describe, but, I know I like it!

 I blind tasted it as Hunter Semillon…go figure.

I then started ruminating on how these were the only NZ pinot Gris I had tasted that owned even 2 years of age.  Excuse my ignorance but do all NZ Gris go waxy and fascinating after 3 years in bottle? Or have I struck the exceptions to the rule? Both blew my socks off especially for the price I need to pay for the pleasure of their company… wow factor for little financial outlay. If most well grown NZ Pinot Gris ages and develops character like these beauties then I’M BUYING MORE!!!

A very, very rare wine; only 136 bottles made, or thereabouts.

Pity it’s arse.

Well, maybe that’s a tad harsh, but I’m my own worst critic. I think this might be a cross between sherry, single malt and the recycled water coming out of Bromley in Christchurch (a sewerage plant, for those not in the know). It’s frustrating, to say the least, because here is a wine that Dave and I made, that we invested a fair bit of time into. Sure, it had its dose of neglect and abuse - partly thanks to our jetsetting ways - but you still remain hopeful.

We harvested the fruit at 26Brix (pretty high for Chard - Dave, correct me if I’m wrong) and proceeded to basket press half of the fruit on site at the vineyard, then the other half at the Lincoln University winery nearby. We only had enough to fill half a barrel, so to offset the ullage and high sugar, we (reluctantly) combined our juice with some less ripe pressed juice from the Lincoln vineyard.

The wine spent a year in an old oak barrel and half was then bottled. The other half was ours, but we were both overseas and wanted to bottle it ourselves, so it was transferred to a couple of 50L kegs and enjoyed some extended ‘keg contact’ for the ensuing 6-9months. Unfortunately, we had no control over the transfer or topping procedures therein, so we suspect the wine suffered from some excess air contact.

Our suspicions were confirmed. The wine - it must be said - didn’t taste that bad when we were carrying out bottling. But, in bottle, it’s a different story. It’s now been the better part of six months since bottling, so there’s been well and truly enough time to rule out any bottle shock and the wine should be showing at its best. That’s a worry.

There’s only five cases to work through, but five cases is substantial when the wine is average. We were so hopeful at the early stages - we jokingly praised the wine’s acid profile, commenting that like a great Chablis, this had the hallmark profile to age for decades and decades. I still believe that - it certainly has some crunchy, citric acidity about it - but it’s smelling now like it will in half a century, which can’t be a good sign. Maybe we’ll see a new phenomenon of “reverse ageing” occuring. The bottles have yet to be labelled, but I think I’ll leave them as naked mysteries. I’ll serve the wine up as an extraordinarily rare sherry from New Zealand, best enjoyed as an aperitif with copious amounts of spicy food to follow (Szechuan or Habanero-infusion, I would recommend) or else as a mild alcohol derivative to Scotch when blind drunk.

2006 Gazardiel Bethels Road Chardonnay
Aromas of green apple core, lemon, grapefruit, peat, papaya pulp, cherry blossom. The aldehydic component is especially strong; it tends to strengthen as soon as one notices it, as these aromas often can. Well balanced in the mouth, the acid is definitely there as a bracing undercurrent but the slight textural nature of the wine seems to offset it nicely. No added sugar (we steadfastly resisted the temptation) and the wine is better for it (don’t laugh). The finish is quite juicy - combinations of slightly tart stonefruit with very ripe citrus fruit - and a slight phenolic edge, which I don’t mind. A very nutty aftertaste. Not all bad, if you can get past the aldehydic nose. 

Dave’s Comments

I agree with all of the above however I have more to add. I have found huge bottle variation in the 10 or so that I have opened in the last 6 months. I have had a soon-to-be Master Sommelier blind taste it as excellent quality, young, nutty Chablis. He was astonished to find that a) it was not Chablis and b) we had made it. On the flip side I have opened a bottle, had half a glass and tipped the rest into a rissotto which was acidic but delicious. So I await every opportunity to open a bottle with bated breath… always thinking is this going to be a good one? And will I be able to get through a bottle before my teeth disolve in the acid? Ha Ha.

London Street restaurant is situated in the picturesque port of Lyttelton on the outskirts of Christchurch. The head chef - Adrian Lowery - used to work at The George (Christchurch’s only five star hotel) and he also happens to be a good friend of mine; we head out for a game of squash every week. He’d been telling me about some of the tastings that occur at the restaurant under the expert tutelage and guidance of restaurant owner Duncan Wilcox - an American expat who possesses a cellar of countless treasures. A softly spoken, humble and supremely generous host, Duncan holds an amazing “Creme de la Creme” tasting every couple of months that I was lucky enough to sneak into on short notice.

Firstly, let me state a couple of important facts about these tastings. The number in attendance is always - intentionally - small. On this occassion, there were eight of us, including Duncan. So you’re not struggling to sniff a 30ml shot of wine here - the pours are generous. Secondly, all wines have been stored in temperature and humidity control since purchase on release. Thirdly, the price Duncan charges for these events is frighteningly meagre; I intend to dine at the restaurant very regularly just to appease my guilty conscience. Speaking of which, the evening dining is expectedly awesome, but don’t write-off the weekends either; brunch on Saturdays is fast becoming the norm for me (eggs benedict with two, maybe three espressos) and the lunch on Sundays is superb.

Anyway, enough about the restaurant, more about the wines. There were six wines, all under cork, all showing well. They were decanted and allowed to breathe for 90mim before the tasting commenced, with the wines shown later in the tasting afforded more time to open.

1990 Von Strasser Cabernet Sauvignon (Napa Valley, California)
My exposure to Napa Cab is limited at best, let alone old Napa Cab, so I was very interested to try these two opening reds. They were both interesting and different to one another too. The nose on this Von Strasser has some sweet rhubarb, tomato leaf and ash notes, yet still with some primary black and red fruits lurking in there somewhere. In the mouth it’s incredibly muscular and tastes a great deal younger than its 18 years. The fruit on the palate is quite sweet, with a dusty kind of texture, hinting at peat spirit notes with dried citrus on the finish (but no sense of alcohol or warmth). There is interplay here between fruit and more leafier aromas, particularly on the nose. Very interesting wine and food is an absolute must; suggest a half kg slab of rump served blue.

1984 Dunn Vineyard Howell Mountain Cabernet Sauvignon (Napa Valley, California)
A great wine to sniff; raisin fruit, sweet cedar, dried herbs, leather, graphite and more. Very complex and the living proof of the beauty of aged wine. Like its regional predecessor in the flight, the nose may hint at the wine’s age, but the palate certainly does not. This is a pup. Very much the iron fist in the velvet glove, though I would argue that the velvet glove now has some holes in it, making some of those blows pretty forceful. This is a brute, the tannin huge, coarse and chunky, with lots happening on the palate and exaggerated cigar box notes on the finish. Structure, and more structure. So much that I wonder if it won’t outlast the fruit. A beast.

1985 Chateau Cos D’Estournel
Now this was a chameleon. Initially quite reticent, tight and unforgiving on the nose, but it began to blossom considerably with some extended time in the glass. Black cherry and spice were particularly evident. The moderate body is less loud than the Napa Cabs and has more presence because of it. Lots of spice on the palate, with considerable energy and flavour concentration. There are layers and layers of complexity; it’s a dense wine, yet there is somehow a feeling of elegance and poise. Great combinations of primary and secondary (no tertiary yet for mine), with superb acid (still!) and the soft tannins making this very approachable, though they show no signs of fading. As a drink now prospect, without substantial food, I thought this was quite special.

1982 Chateau Gruaud Larose
A brooding nose; lashings of black berries, asphalt and mineral. Such an amazing structure and mouthfeel; polished texture, gorgeous undercurrent of acidity, a palate with intense cores of flavour and tannins that are initially barely perceptible, but grow and grow, building to a blockbuster finish where they slip away ever so quietly and slowly. Whilst not as complex as some of the other Bordeaux, this was testament to the wine’s inherent youth. A wine that is hard to fault, supremely drinkable and sure to unfold into an even more amazing piece of work, though I suspect another decade will be required.

1983 Chateau Pichon Lalande
Bring on the birth year wines. I reckon, if served blind, I may have gone somewhere New World with this wine; probably Australia. The nose has aromas of vanillin oak, intensely concentrated berries, briar, potpourri and a hint of menthol. There are yet more lashings of berries on the palate - now with spice - supporting an underlay of judicious acid and a fleshy, juicy mouthfeel and texture. The fine, savoury and sweet tannins are just starting to resolve and the aftertaste is scarily long; stunning length. A wine that, for mine, represents exceptional value for money on the secondary market, even if it is a little removed from the classic Bordeaux mould.

1983 Chateau Margaux
Now this is classic Bordeaux. The nose encapsulates a mix of everything in just the right amounts; earthy, fragrant and fruity - wonderful pain grille and graphite characters with just so much squeezed in there. It’s almost indescribable, as is the experience in the mouth; a wine where (truly, honestly), one taste is enough. High extract, slightly grainy texture (not dry grainy; stay-on-your-tongue grainy), amazing flavour profile. My tongue was flabbergasted. The wine’s story was etched inside my mouth, but in a language I’ll never understand. Nor should I. A wine that will be hard to forget. 

I stayed on for dinner afterwards, enjoying calamari with pork belly and then finishing with a creme brulee. Thank you Duncan - for sharing such a wonderful collection of wines from your private cellar.

Duncan Wilcox, London Street Restaurant, Christchurch, New Zealand.

 I sat down with Alan on his back porch one Sunday afternoon, about this time two years ago. I was conducting research and interviews for an article I was writing for Wine Front, on New Zealand syrah. I buckled in, set the question level on turbo and sponged every last drop of gold from Alan’s mouth that I could. He truly is the syrah sensei. Having planted a single row of syrah vines in the Hawkes Bay back in 1984, his are the oldest producing syrah vines in the country. People become very misty at the “old vine” adage, as it were, but far more intruging is the manner by which these vines ended up firstly in New Zealand, and then in Alan’s hands.

 It has since been tracked back that the wood I sourced in 1984 went through two or three government stations, dating all the way back to the 1800s. It looks like it was actually James Busby’s original import into New Zealand in the 1840s. He brought wood in from the Sydney botanical gardens where they had a vine collection and it looks like it was one of the early pre-phylloxera clones which, quite possibly, was the same stuff as the old vine shiraz in Australia. I had no idea. - Alan Limmer, Owner/Winemaker

Alan opened a 1997 Stonecroft Syrah (which was excellent - great spice and floral attributes, with impeccable balance) and we discussed the ripening window of syrah. Alan used a trio of consecutive years to demonstrate - 1997, 1998 and 1999. Now, 1998 was the lauded vintage of the decade, with hot, dry conditions, but despite this, Alan considered it poor for syrah. In fact, he had to chaptalise his 1998 syrah because the vines just shut down. The cooler 1997 and 1999 vintages provided Alan with a longer ripening window for his fruit, believing that the structure, fruit flavours and inherent elegance of the wines was preserved in such years.

So, what can we expect from Alan’s syrahs?

They tend to be reasonably weighted wines, fairly elegant without being aggressive in any sense. They have good aromatics, more of a feminine style than the all out grunt, fruit, tannin and oak. I think the wine shows better when it’s not pushed to those extremes. They’re easy to drink; they’re food wines. You don’t have to tough your way through them. Right to the end you’re still seeing things in the wine that are attractive, interesting, and still discovering components of the wine because they have this underlying complexity and elegance without being too one-dimensional. - Alan Limmer, Owner/Winemaker

Here are my thoughts (enjoyed this evening with a massive rump steak):

1999 Stonecroft Syrah
Fragrant, spicy, subtly fruity and complex - that’s how I would describe the aromatics. Blackberry, black cherry, briar, licorice, tobacco and white pepper with a lifted, floral character to the bouquet. Medium bodied, the palate is seamless, layered with spices, earth and red and black berry fruits. The acid - still surprisingly youthful - augments the structure and fresh finish of the wine. The tannins are ripe and persisting yet nursed within a silken cloak that culminates in enviable length. Still primary enough to benefit (and require) food, this effort from Alan hasn’t even upchanged to second gear. Will easily cruise through the next decade and, for all intensive purposes, should be at its stunning climax circa 2020.

I’d like to be Terry’s understudy.

I don’t think it’s possible, not in this lifetime anyway, because I don’t presume for a minute that I can absorb the German wine nexus (and all there is to know of it, which rivals the intricacies of Burgundy) any faster than the man himself. Thus, as long as he’s a willing and able traveller, taster and writer, I hold little hope that he will ever require an offsider, let alone a replacement. Nevertheless, that won’t stop me from building my own little German empire in New Zealand and aspiring to offer a similar service, albeit far less entertaining, substantial or knowledgeable.

Let’s talk wine personalities and, informally, wine reviewers. Unless you’ve arrived here accidentally through web searches that capture our lascivious language with reference to wine descriptions and you were hoping for some lewd visuals, I’ll assume that you’re here with a basic foundation of wine knowledge and that you’ve heard of the infamous Robert Parker. If you have a bent for more specific reviewers of wine, especially pinot noir, then you may also have heard of Allen Meadow, who goes by the alias “Burghound”. However, I can almost guarantee that even the most learned of wine aficionados will not be familiar with Terry Theise, unless they are incredibly resourceful, most likely American, and have a penchant for German wines.

The “Terry Theise Estate Selections” are a set of catalogues produced by none other than Terry Theise, that cover the wines of Germany, Austria and Champagne. I have yet to divert my gaze from the German catalogs, such is my captivation and utter obsession with German wine at the moment, Terry’s entertaining dialogue notwithstanding. These catalogues are mass compilations of winery overviews, tasting notes, philosophical essays on wine culture and all associated (and unassociated) tangents. It is simply wine speak for enthusiasts on all levels, shaped into a casual, droll fable that courses with poignant morals.

I particularly like Terry’s approach to tasting notes. There are essentially three approaches to a tasting note. The first is the verbose approach. This looks at a wine in its current form when it is tasted, utilizing adjectives and descriptors, and would definitely be the most common review format. Robert Parker subscribes to this style.

Then there is the second approach; one of structure. This tasting note minimises the use of discrete adjectives for aromas and flavours, instead concentrating on the structure of the wine (its tannin, acid, mouthfeel, length, phenolic constituents, etc). The reasoning behind this method is quite sound, given wine descriptors will change over time as the wine moves through primary, secondary and tertiary stages. The descriptors change, but the underlying structure of the wine remains true. Allen Meadows uses this particular approach.

And finally, there is the “TT” approach. Terry Theise really does need a category all on his own. The approach? Anything goes. Let it flow, when it flows. It’s a hodgepodge of descriptors, adjectives, structural overview, carnal imagery and whatever else comes leaping from Terry’s cognizance at the time of writing and/or tasting. Allow me to illustrate his ethos. Below is an excerpt taken from Terry’s 2007 German catalogue (which can be found in full here):

I know you sometimes use me to discern what you want to buy, and believe me I want to be helpful. But do you really buy wine because it tastes “like boysenberrys and pork-snouts?” Wouldn’t you rather know the wine “danced like Gandhi would have had there been discos in Calcutta?” Well it’s what I’d rather tell you, so get over it. That, or I’ll take my cue from shampoo bottles, and if I like a wine just write, “Open, drink, repeat.”

I can’t tell you where the man was born. I can’t even tell you which state he lives in. I can’t tell you where or what his background was, nor can I relay how he happened onto German wine. What I can tell you is that he is a refreshing slap in the face of wine writing and all the pretention associated with the lemming herds. Anyone needing an introduction (and a lot more) on German wine need look no further.

The man, the myth, the legend - Terry Theise.

Balding vegetation lay exposed on the wind-torn greywacke of the Kaituna Valley walls; scraggly, tired, yet somehow resolutely beautiful. It’s a strange little place, occupying a narrow strip of land between Christchurch and Akaroa as one heads out to Banks Peninsula. Though classified as part of the Canterbury wine region - and I suppose that’s technically correct - you won’t find any other vineyards out here, nor any other wines in the region that embody the characters exuded by the Kaituna Valley wines.

I’d organised a very informal meet-up with Grant Whelan, the winemaker for Kaituna Valley (although he does consult for a number of small, boutique wineries in Canterbury), so we took a stroll through the vineyard and talked shop.

The site is tiny and rests upon loess-derived clay soils, which immediately indicates a strong capacity for water retention and nutrient availability. Thus, irrigation is not required and the low-moderate mean annual rainfall of Canterbury adequately supplements the vines. The vines are trained on a two-cane Scott Henry and when we made our pass, the canopy looked in terrific balance; healthy bunches, consistent shoot spacing and a leaf layer that happily broadcast dappled light. There are two cultivars planted; pinot gris and pinot noir. Grant has experimented with girdling on the pinot gris to improve fruit set and the results are rather obvious - it clearly works. The bark on the pinot noir is softer and thinner which precludes it from the same treatment, though less intensive girdling can be performed and is currently being trialled on certain rows.

Talk to any wine enthusiast, educator or maker and there appears to be wide anecdotal evidence as to common connections between soil type (or rather, texture) and sensory qualities of the resulting wine. Clay, I’m led to believe, results in wines that are structural, dense and robust. Having tasted the Kaituna Valley Pinot Noir on several past occassions, this soil corollary seems entirely believable; the wine is massively concentrated, rich and black fruit dominated, with intriguing spice derivations and other subtle complexities captured within a shell of acid, tannin and weight structure. Drink it too young (heaven forbid - from barrel) and you couldn’t be blamed for thinking there were some shiraz-esque qualities to this pinot. I’m dying to try one with some age.

Speaking of shiraz-esque and Australian traits, the Kaituna Valley Pinot Noir has a history with eucalypt. Now, this phenomenon fascinates me. You will find eucalypt characters in many South Australian reds, especially (in my experience) from those grown in Coonawarra, Padthaway and sometimes Mclaren Vale. Many will confuse the eucalypt for menthol and/or mint, which isn’t hard to do - those characters are also found in the wines from the aforementioned regions. But I digress. What I wanted to relay and discuss was the source of this eucalypt. Now, let me clarify - eucalypt is NOT a byproduct of oak. It comes from the environment and the question has always been “does it come from the soil, or from somewhere else?” The romantic, naive view of many (until recently, this included me) assumes that the roots of nearby eucalypt gum trees leach exudates that contain trace quantities of eucalypt compounds that would later be taken up by the vines of the nearby vineyards. Certainly not an unreasonable presumption, unless you have a solid grounding in plant physiology and know that this process is highly improbable. So, as Grant alluded to me in plain, forthright fashion last weekend, the eucalypt oil from the leaves and tree itself is simply carried by the wind and onto the surface of the fruit where it becomes worked into the must and eventually a component of the wine. Simple.

Regrettably (or not, depending on whether you like this character or not), the gums that formed a shelter belt on Grant’s wee property have since been felled and removed. The tolerance for the eucalypt character on the show circuit with judges was particularly low, despite a majority of the wine-drinking public enjoying the character. So the decision was made and future vintages of the Kaituna Valley Pinot Noir should be void of this conjectural character.

Incidentally, it’s quite possible that the pinot noir fruit from the Kaituna Valley vineyard comes off the oldest producing pinot noir vines in the country. Planted in the mid-late Seventies, I’ve been scratching my head to think of anyone earlier that hasn’t already pulled their vines out.

I haven’t even mentioned the pinot gris, but I haven’t tried one in ages, so stay tuned for a note in the not-so-distant future. Many thanks to Grant and his wife Helen for seeing us on a Sunday afternoon; the day before was blisteringly hot (39.5deg C) and we were half expecting them to have left for the beach. Wonderful people, artisan winemaking, old vines and a great story. What more does wine need?!!

The CORE. Code Oechsle: Riesling Extremists.

On this auspicious day of days - none other than New Years Day - serendipitous circumstances have lead to the official inauguration of The CORE. This will be New Zealand’s first and most prodigious patronage of like-minded souls to the unequivocal Queen of vitis vinifera; Riesling. It’s a forum, if you will, full of exclusivity and saturated by fanatics that are tragically and hopelessly hypnotized by the ethereal qualities of a singular white grape that knows no limits to its versatility and guises throughout the world.

 But first things first. We must separate the wheat from the chaff. The name of our society - The CORE - is an acronym borne of four words; three that are readily identifiable, one that is slightly more esoteric. If you are unfamiliar with the term “Oechsle”, then leave now. Stop reading. Disembark prematurely. Exit the sanctum. If you have the makings of a true Riesling devotee and are resourceful enough, you will discover the meaning and relevance of this word and return upon your enlightening. I’ll make a proselyte out of you yet.

Society is such a mainstream, cliche term for what is really a specialist clique. Don’t kid yourselves people, this is a serious forum. Contact between members will occur by wax-sealed scrolls carried within the talons of endangered New Zealand Falcons. Formal meetings will be held in secret, underground locations. All members will be well learned in every detail of the Riesling grape and continue to further their knowledge with ongoing, scrupulous study. All members will be assigned a unique callsign and shield medallion. And last but not least, membership is strictly invitation only.

The CORE will be made up of a massively eclectic selection of individuals. Great vignerons of the Old World, progressive thinkers of New World viticulture, professionals, labourers, musicians, students and more, all with one striking similarity in common; their admiration, respect and unconditional love for the ultimate tactile and sensory nirvana that is Riesling.

The foundation members have already congregated and established the beginnings of The CORE. We now start our search for kindred spirits and future brethren. Applicants are welcome to initiate their own contact; where there’s a will, there’s a way.

Hi everyone, it’s been a while since I posted. I have been flat-out with vintage for Archery Summit in Oregon, USA, but that is definitely another story. I am now back in Vancouver, Canada, and among other things I am back working for Liberty Wine Merchants. Sunday the second of December saw the staff from the store gather at our fearless leader Drew’s house to say goodbye to Kalen. She has been one of our full time staff members and a wonderful asset; she will be greatly missed.

We also gathered because of the kickass lineup of wines we had put together for the occasion. Here is the line up with my impressions of them:

2005 Chelalem Dry Riesling
Beautiful aperitif wine, smooth and balanced, green apple and crisp minerality. Not overly complex, but got me salivating.

2004 Bret Brothers Vire Clesse
A lovely golden hue. Complex orange sorbet, melon and vanilla oak on the nose with a boarding house scrape of pure butter on the nose. Loads of ripe peach cobbler and butterscotch on the palate. Seamless balance.

1999 Leroy Savigny les Beaune
Deep golden color. The nose was complex; it started out hazel-nutty and creamy with a slight aldehydic note, accompanied by thistle honey and a vegemite note. This carried through to the palate which was deep and yet delicate with masticated candied lemon and a mealiness like old champagne without the bubbles. Charismatic.

2002 Domaine de la Bongran Vire Clesse
Creamy oak and white peach on the nose with a dustiness which I couldn’t place at first. It was botrytis, but it took me a while. Yes this is a botrytis affected, dry, white Burgundy. Opulent white grape and gala apple on the palate with a round, full mouthfeel which was offset by a back note of oak-derived astringency. Attractive and forward, the smoky botrytis character - described as fish paste on the nose and toffee gala apple on the palate - was delightful.

1992 Remossenet Santenay ‘La Comme’ 1er Cru (Mag)
Light brick in color. All earth and secondary masticated bramble fruits on the nose, this is offset by mergez sausage and meat jus, and then there is a lifted botanical note of cut violets and freshly split wood. Later I detected a wonderful peppermint tea leaf aroma. The palate was stewed plum and blatant black cherry with spice and power, flawless integration and a lifted smoky/savory lingering finish. Balanced acid and light extract. This wine went through a myriad of changes. Fascinating.

1993 Remossenet Latricieres-Chambertin Grand Cru
‘Oh yeah’ escaped my lips. Big, plummy complexity with earth and forest floor etc etc etc just amazing, I didn’t taste or talk to anyone for a long time, instead just savouring the layers of aroma leaping from the glass. Wow. The nose is everything I expect and more from Grand Cru
Burgundy and it was still changing and giving 3 hours later when I finally finished the last few ml. The palate was power and finesse personified. The first thing I notice is the mouthfeel; higher extract than the wine before, wonderful light yet firm grip of tannin, like a father holding his daughter’s hand waiting for the light to turn. Then it turns green, and releases a flurry of action too complex for words, each component is distinct yet they are part of the enchanting whole. The wine was still bright and fresh yet so well integrated. This wine moved me.

1999 Ponderi Al DO Conterno ‘Il Favot’ Langhe Nebbiolo
The man behind this wine is a Piedmont traditionalist. He won’t call a wine Barolo unless it is made in the old school fashion. The grapes for this wine come from Barolo vineyards and he would have every right to call it Barolo if he chose. He does make a Barolo in the old school fashion; this bottling however is made in a more modern style with French oak. So he chooses to name it Nebbiolo because to him, it is not Barolo.

The darkest, deepest purple colour I have seen in a Nebbiolo. The nose is classic Nebbiolo; dark and milk chocolate with baking spice and pot puree, dried rose and bath salts. The palate is all liquorice and high notes of currant, along with lashings of tar and leather. The wine is big and grippy, with oodles of tannin, but the good, chewy, mouthwatering kind.  A medium length finish which was warm and slightly tired.

1993 Zillikin Saarburger Rausch Spatlese
Diesel and lemon rind with river stone and moss. Pear and apple, caramelized. The palate is tart and creamy initially like natural yogurt, with lush strawberry and a zingy lime finish. Great Riesling used extremely effectively as a palate cleanser/refresher.

1993 Château Musar
Slightly pongy and sulfidey to start with, deep and brooding with VA and an old log cabin aroma. Plums and currants with sweat. The palate has more fruit though it is intensely focused and spicy with lovely oak and skin tannin. It becomes very aromatic with lashings of vanilla and cassis. Meaty. Warm and comfortable. Plum jam. Round, soft and supple after time in the glass. Fresh acid with a briar and earth finish. Slightly hot on the back palate.

2001 Majella ‘The Malleea’
Deep and inky. Mint and cranberry on the nose, restrained and slightly smokey with creamy almond nut. Great big fruit bomb with opulent mouthfeel, dried plums and fresh blackberry, mintiness carries through. Menthol accompanies the slightly astringent tannins. We decanted it too long and I was told that the heal of the bottle post decantation was better. The wine was still wonderful though.

2003  Bischoflichen Weinguter Scharxhofberger Auslaese
Lemon cheesecake with a touch of petro-diesel forming. Zesty palate with more cheesecake, gala apple and fresh feijoa crumble overtones. An effervescent mouthfeel though no residual CO2 that I could see. So much gala apple and pie crust. Yum-oh.

1990 Moulin Touchais Coteaux Du Layon
Old sweet Chenin at its finest. Sweet yet grassy aromas, manuka honey. Layered and lush with steely acid backbone. Cinnamon and nutmeg with fresh nashi pear. Accumulation of oxygen had caused a complex array of cooked fruits. Balanced. The wine then moved into orange rind and marshmallow with smoke and heather on the nose. Drops into a slightly aldyhidic but long finish.

2003 Baumard Clos de Sainte Catherine Coteaux Du Layon
Treacle and feijoa on both the nose and palate, though not as complex as the previous wine. Raisined and sweeter though. A rich and viscous mouthfeel. I lost tasting focus at this point but the wine was delicious.

2005 Domaine Philippe Delesvaux Coteaux Du Layon
Sweet, rich and good….I AM DONE (These were my actual notes)

Thank you everyone involved it was a special evening to long be remembered. With the Grand Cru Burgs coming out on top for me (as they should).

Till next time…

Cheers and good health,

Dave.

Dave had his first shift working back at the restaurant in Vancouver the other night having freshly completed vintage at Archery Summit in Oregon (full report pending!). I received an email with the usual banter we carry on with, which included a commentary concerning a couple who were dining at the restaurant. For anonymity, we’ll simply say that the couple ordered a very expensive, top notch French red from a classic (older) vintage. The wine was enjoyed with a fine meal and the couple left happy, leaving a generous tip.

Now, here’s the clincher: the wine was shit. Not obviously cork affected, nor suffering from any of the other tell-tale faults one looks for, but clearly not the wine it should have been. Maybe heat affected, maybe affected by that nasty cork taint that just mutes the fruit with no obvious spoilage, maybe just a dud bottle. Who knows? But, in this instance, the sommelier/waiter would have (should have) quickly acknowledged that the wine was not up to scratch and procured a replacement bottle or suggested an alternative.

Dave knows wine – he has excellent palate integrity and confidence in his abilities – so he knew immediately upon tasting the wine at the end of the night that it was not a representative bottle. His sympathies went out to the couple who paid a lot of money for this wine, who were either too embarrassed/shy to speak up and question the wine, or had no idea that what they were drinking was sub-par. The first instance is the scariest one – for the restaurant – because there is a (slim) chance that the diners were simply introverted individuals who did not wish to cause a scene and were happy tipping (based on the quality of their meal). In all likeliness, they would not return because they would be under the impression that they were served a poor bottle of wine. Truth be told, this instance is very unlikely in the States or Canada (though more likely in Australia or New Zealand).

Thus, it comes down to gross inadequacy of said diners’ ability to judge wine. Smell and taste the wine – take as long as you like – then question the wine if you’re not 100% sure that it’s fine. That’s what the waiter and/or sommelier are there for. The whole experience raises the question of wine appreciation and what I’d like to call ‘pretending’. Wine pretenders equals upper-class society that buy and drink expensive wine like its water and have absolutely no clue between Yellowtail and Grange, Bourgogne and DRC, Chardon and Dom. It’s all about image. People seen to be drinking the right stuff, at the right place, in the right company. Bah.

I know, I know, this elaborate generalisation does not encompass the entire population of well-to-do wine drinkers; many are well educated, extremely forthright in their assertions and well learned in wine culture. However, as the world population increases and more people realise more wealth, access to great wines will become more and more limited, to the extent of monopolisation if not policed. Balanced only by the integrity of growers, winemakers and negociants, will access become a thing of the past where wines are sold to the highest bidder? And why not? If a winemaker knows that his wine will double in price the moment he sells it to the first cog in the chain, then why not raise the price and keep the share of profits for himself? Rather him than some greasy, two-faced middleman who maintains honour and loyalty as he rips the winemaker off behind his back.

Enter Drew Noon. Quite possibly the most honourable winemaker in the world. Here is a man – a Master of Wine at that – who was visited by a certain Bob Parker some years ago. Parker loved the wines – they were avante garde, they were tour de force, they were full throttle – and awarded them so. This was back at the height of the Ausse Red Frenzy that had swept across North America, with the mighty greenback and promise of notoriety enslaving many a South Australian winery (as it still does), to the extent that we see the rise (and some would argue overindulgence) of boutique wineries selling super-premium wine. But I digress. What it meant for the wines of Drew Noon was astronomical prices on the secondary market; in excess of US$200/bottle. At the time, Drew was selling his wine for AU$25/bottle (circa US$18/bottle – less than 10% their equivalent price on the US market).

With demand far exceeding supply, he had a decision to make. Increase the price of his wine by 400% (and still sell out such was the magnitude of his operation) at the expense of a few disgruntled, loyal customers, or continue to sell his wine for AU$25/bottle. The decision he made is a timeless measure of the man’s integrity. He opted for the AU$25/bottle option, maintaining his prices at that level to this very day. It’s a humbling portrayal of a man’s love of his craft; the land, the lifestyle, the fruit, the heritage, the wines. It’s humbling to the extent of a man on the verge of tears. You just do not see this in the modern day world, so it comes as an incredibly emotional shock when you lay witness to what is really a miracle of character. To aptly quote Mr Parker: Kudos Mr Noon, Kudos.

So what message does one take away from this rambling of esoteric wine ingredients concocted into a luke-warm soup of broth? Two things. Firstly, know wine and enjoy wine, remembering to swallow your pride and ego – there will always be someone out there who knows more than you. Secondly, find your piece of Drew Noon, wherever it may be in this world, and hold it tight for as long as you can.

Many months of planning, negotiating, tasting and organisation have culminated in some very exciting wines that are set to be released over the next couple of days.

It’s called the Longhop. It’s made by a guy called Domenic Torzi, who is emerging as yet another one of these underground talents from the depths of the South Australian vinosphere. The fruit is 100% sourced from the Adelaide Plains (between the Barossa and Adelaide), made using a combination of French and American oak and it redlines my gluggability meter – seriously tasty stuff. But don’t take my word for it, check out the following reviews:

“I took this to a barbecue and nearly got mobbed” Campbell Mattinson (Wine Front)

“Another charismatic wine, packed with flavour and value, from the irrepressible Domenic Torzi” Gary Walsh (Winorama)

“Inky purple. Fresh raspberry and blueberry on the nose, with sexy vanillin oak and baking spices adding complexity … utterly delicious, with a gently spicy finish featuring persistent red and dark berry flavors” Stephen Tanzer (International Wine Cellar)

But wait, there’s more.

Three Tasmanian wines have landed; two pinots and a cabernet. The Winstead Pinot Noir from Neil Snare and the Stoney Vineyard Reserve Pinot Noir and Domaine A Cab Sauv from Peter Althaus. After I finished vintage in Tassie earlier this year, I had the chance to travel the state and taste extensively, hand-selecting an assortment of wines that are representative of the region. I spoke to Neil and Peter, shook their hands, tasted from their barrels and learnt all about these amazing wines and amazing people.

Okay, so this Saturday, we will have the Longhop Shiraz, Winstead Pinot Noir and Stoney Vineyard Reserve Pinot Noir all on tasting, at no charge. As an extra special treat for what will be my last Saturday for a while, we will have some crispy roast duck to taste with the pinots at half-past twelve!

2006 Longhop Shiraz                                                           $21.99 ($19.99 case buy)
2005 Winstead Pinot Noir                                                   $36.00
2004 Stoney Vineyard Reserve Pinot Noir                      $39.00
2000 Domaine A Cabernet Sauvignon                             $65.00