Vinoculation

Starting out strong here is likely a good way to introduce myself to the Vinoculation hordes.  So much pressure for such a new writer, how does one avoid buckling under the pressure?  I think it might be a good idea to start with a brief self portrait, so that you, oh faithful readers, have some idea of who happens to be going on and on about this or that gorgeous nuance in his glass.  Oh, the terroir.  I can smell it now.

If we want to put forward professional, or at least paper credentials, to a name, I am the proud recipient/owner/experiencer of the following: WSET Advanced Diploma, Spanish Wine Educator certification through the Spanish Wine Institute, and have spent the past 4 years as a wine merchant in Vancouver, Canada. I have built store inventory from nil to 2000+ labels, with options from lowly bulk wine to back vintages from classic wine regions. I’ve managed and served in fine restaurants before that, and before that still I apprenticed under a few talented chefs. If you take nothing else from this history, I hope it’s obvious that I love wine and food.

Perhaps that’s enough, but what are you looking for from a wine writer?

I suppose what I’m getting at is that, despite all of the above, you have few guarantees when it comes to the quality of my writing and palate. Gladly, such a statement applies just as readily to an unopened bottle of wine. There is no way to guarantee the quality of an item by seeing it from the outside; one needs to get in to it, get it inside, and gain direct experiential knowledge of the thing. When it comes to my writing, as with wine, everyone can judge for themselves through reading and comparing against experience. If good wine never shows poorly, likewise with writing.

So to wrap up, I look forward to sharing my experiences with you, faithful readers. I look forward to hearing of your experiences, and comparing them to my own as I explore this beautiful country and its wines. The quest for interesting, good wine is a thirsty one; may it never be quenched!

Another wine from the stables of Wallington in the Central Ranges of New South Wales. This boutique outfit also makes olive oil and is currently progressing through organic conversion. Nice.

I’m unsure what “Rockdell” refers to, other than the obvious that the fruit is sourced from a rocky dell or valley. This blend is made up of roughly equal thirds Shiraz, Grenache and Mourvedre with just a smidge of Petit Verdot. The nose smacks you with an uppercut of ripe, plummy fruit, both red and black spectrum, with hints of tar, liquorice, pepper, prune and leather.

Deft acid handling keeps the palate lively and vibrant, showcasing the swathes of fresh and dried berry fruit, with the oak adding some richness and depth to the tannin. The front-palate mouthfeel begins slippery and slick, gaining some coarser traction as it spreads throughout and finishes slightly chewy, robust with grainy tannins. It’s a rustic style that captures the typicity of the blend well, best drunk with food as a young wine (a rare rump steak worked well in my case). This is definitely a cellar-worthy prospect, built with oodles of structure, and sure to be even more interesting and enjoyable in a decade’s time.

Let me first qualify this post.

I love Mount Edward. I love Alan Brady, I love Duncan Forsyth, I love that they are going through organic conversion. Me likey.

But I do have high expectations. The 2007 Morrison Vineyard Pinot came across the tasting bench and I had to steady myself. This is a single vineyard Pinot from Mount Edward’s Lowburn vineyard. Lownburn is a subregion of Central Otago that seems to capture some intense heat and a little more rain than say Bannockburn or Bendigo, given its proximity to the Pisa Ranges. Straight examples of Lowburn fruit are few and far between, so this is an exciting release.

The wine exudes intense fruit aromas of macerated black cherries with the odd blackberry and boysenberry thrown in for good measure. It’s still very primary, as one would expect, having been in bottle less than a year. There’s an enticing floral element to the nose too, accompanied by sweet vanillin and briar. It’s a nose that speaks of the wine’s origins; far from being a stalky, gamey, leathery Pinot of the Old World, the fruit is so gorgeously attractive and ripe, so much so that you can almost taste the luxuriously fleshy and velvet texture just from a sniff.

In the mouth, it’s a seamless love story from start to finish. Silky, polished and all other verbose descriptors that conjure up thoughts of a freshly waxed sports car or similar; this wine is it. It’s scarily approachable on the palate for its youth, borne of a structure with impeccable balance right from the word go. More black-spectrum berry fruit, with a deft spicyness that plays attractively with the subtle acidity. The tannins on the first mouthful are very, very fine, so after a few more sips it was pleasing to find that they bulk up somewhat, which is how I like my tannins in Pinot. Great length with mulberry-esque qualities and all in all, a delicious Pinot. I really think this is a wine that will drink best in its first five years, but I’d love to be proven wrong. Only 48 cases made (!) and I suspect it has already sold out, but a great time to join the Mount Edward mailing list nonetheless.

It’s a little unusual to see sparkling Pinot Noirs, but it would seem that they are very slowly becoming a popular alternative to the typical Shiraz used for most Aussie red bubbly. Thankfully, these wines have not yet been discovered by infamous international wine critics and the prices remain modest, even though the nation’s best examples can fetch prices in excess of $60 a bottle. It has now become tradition for me to crack many a red bubbly over the Xmas season and this year I snuck in the odd Pinot Noir.

Refreshingly, the Wallington “Cervantes” (a reference to the author of Don Quixote) was crown sealed to preserve freshness and vitality with no risk of cork taint or reduction. I can see a lot more fizz going down this path, as soon as the consumer confronts their “cheap beer cap” demons and the lack of the classic popping cork.

The colour was a ruby red with a very fine, gentle mousse. One could easily mistake the nose for that of a sparkling Shiraz, with gobs of sweet, juicy fruit and a surprising amount of complexity; black raspberry, liquorice, kirsch, vanillin and sarsaparilla. The super concentrated fruit/liqueur nature of the wine is echoed on the palate, with pleasant front palate sweetness and tannin, hints of a slightly cocoa texture and then a considerably lengthy finish.

Supremely enjoyable to drink. Though quite sweet, there is enough savoury flavour and textural qualities to provide structural integrity and give the wine the balance it deserves.

From the slopes of Mt Canobolas in Orange, New South Wales, comes another wine from the Patina stable. The colour is a pale, light yellow and the aromas comprise mineral, talc, lemon, orange blossom and, like the back label suggests, pear (odd for Riesling). Borne of one of Australia’s cooler climate regions, winemaker Gerald Naef has kept with the Aussie trend of producing a drier style. He does it well.

 The acidity on the palate is lively and crunchy, swathed in citrus fruit, without being dominant or piercing as many can in their youth. The flavours on the palate cross over into lemon/lime spectrum, not intense, but not dilute either; an elegant, restrained and lithe Riesling that is scarily easy to drink (even for Riesling). The finish is kept in check, with just the slightest hint of astringency buoying the length and mouthfeel. I thought it was sensational with linguine marinara, though any seafood-related dish would suffice. A bargain wine that comes with a strong endorsement.

Well, this could very well be the first ever Rosé reviewed on Vinoculation. There is no doubting that I will receive plenty of stick from Dave over it, but it is Xmas, so I am allowed this very metrosexual indulgence. This wine, and three others, were kindly sent to me by David Cumming of Define Wine. I’m not terribly familiar with the Patina wines, but they come from Orange in New South Wales and it appears to be somewhat of a boutique winery.

The wine was served chilled and had a red foundation colour, with hues of orange and salmon. The nose, while reticent and quite subtle initially, did warm up to offer raspberry, musk, rose petal and hints of citrus rind. In the mouth it is plesantly textural, the palate flavours quite unobtrusive, as they should be in Rosé. There is adequate acid to keep everything buoyant, which actually adds to the drinkability, though I wouldn’t be complaining if it was a tad livelier. As a result, it doesn’t appear bone dry, though I suspect that any sugar present is really quite minimal. As the wine warms up, so too does the palate, but only very slightly; in any case, it’s a bit shameful really that I’m not drinking my glass fast enough. There is a splash of tannin on the finish that has been well integrated and supports the wine’s structure and length. All in all, a Rosé that is quite delicious to drink and doesn’t require too much brain matter; mission accomplished.

After a long flight with an extended delay in Chicago, on the below average United Airlines, I arrived with much excitement and anticipation to Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris, France. One bus and three trains later, I found myself on the steps of Gard de Beaune. A quick phone call and Blair Pethal appeared and took me back to the winery and accompanying house of Domaine Dublere. The winery is situated on the outskirts of Beaune on the way to Savenay-les-Beaune. This was where I was to spend the best part of the next month helping with the 2008 Burgundian harvest.

Blair is a very interesting person. A man who seems to really be ecstatic with his lot in life. For the duration of harvest I had the pleasure of helping Blair realize his passion of turning a year’s meticulous hard work in the vineyard into the gorgeous, unctuous and downright awesome wine that Domaine Dublere achieves.  Domaine Dublere typified what the very best Burgundian wine producers are known for—excellent viticulture that produces fantastic quality grapes which are then guided through vinification into becoming an elegant and complex elixir which wows wine aficionados the world over.

The first day I was there we did about 19 hours work; we picked a block of Mersault and then processed it. Now when I say picked I mean bending down to the fruiting wire in Burgundy which happens to be about 30 centimetres off the ground. Luckily I was identified as the big guy who is not very flexible and was assigned the duty of porter. A position I would hold throughout most of harvest when out in the vineyard. This duty involved carrying an aluminum basket holding contraption up and down rows and having all the other workers dump their loads…of grapes…. on my back. Sticky juice would run down the back of my thighs and itch like crazy. I still think I had the better end though as all that bending would have killed my back.

As we progressed through harvest it became apparent that the amount of care taken in the vineyard and indeed right throughout the process of transforming grapes into the wine in the bottle was paramount. Attention to detail was key and any wavering from that line could cause disaster. In the 2008 growing season if a farmer missed even one spray it could have meant up to 100% loss of grapes to rot and certainly meant a dramatic drop in total grape must quality from the affected parcel. It became apparent that it is not easy to be a wine producer in Burgundy. The climate and terroir really stresses the vines which really are growing in extreme conditions, right on the edge of being unable to produce grapes worthy of wine production. With cold winters and barely adequate summers it is a wonder maturity is reached at all. However, I think it is these factors that make the wine fantastic, and gives those passionate enough to toil in the vineyard to produce great wines such satisfaction in a job well done when the grapes finally arrive to maturity and begin the lengthy vinification and elevage processes.

Blair Pethel was definitely one of the meticulous ones. Where rot devastated parcels right next to ours in Chassagne-Montrachet and in the flatter land around Meursault and Savigny-les-Beaune we managed to salvage a crop which considering the vintage was very healthy indeed. We had our fair share of Botrytis mid bunch but the care and attention to detail displayed in the winery really showed why the wines are of such a high standard. It was all in the sorting, sometimes painfully slow but always a necessity. The white was all whole bunch pressed on a long champagne-like cycle so a slow methodical sort on a vibrating table was required before the grapes were giraffed into the press. The red was destemmed following a rigorous sort and then whole berry sorting on a second table took place to take out tiny stems and any miss coloured or rotten berries. This stringent approach as well as the excellent viticulture implemented throughout the year is the reason why nothing apart from SO2 is ever needed to be added to the wines.

Burgundy is a region of subtlety and I entered the hallowed appellation thinking I knew a lot about the land and its producers. Every piece of land is different and has been assigned value or quality designation. Essentially each vineyard is assigned a quality level. At the bottom of the slopes of the Cote d’Or we find the Bourgogne level vineyards. The only wine that can be produced from these vineyards is Bourgogne; it cannot be given a village designation. The next up the chain is the village level vineyards. These parcels of land produce wine that may be assigned the village name from which they come. At this level the vineyard name may also be mentioned but is usually not as the village wines usually come from several vineyards around each village. Just up on the main slope and right at the top of the slope of the best aspects the Premier Cru vineyards can be found. These are considered to produce superior wines in good vintages and are often subject to growing and production parameters that differ from the village level vineyards, (such as natural sugar level requirements etc). Then we come to the fabled Grand Cru vineyards, they are usually found in the middle of the slope (with the exception of the enormous Clos de Vougeot). These vineyards are supposed to consistently produce the best wines in each geographical area. These wines mainly come from single special vineyards where some premier cru wines are appellation wines with many different vineyard sources…..

Ok so that can be confusing but was nothing new to me. What surprised me was the need to really know the producer. I entered the arena believing any wine with at least a premier cru designation would be good to very good…. boy was I wrong. My first visit to the local E.Leclirc (a cross between Wholefoods and Wal-Mart) taught me a short, sharp lesion. I bought a mixture of bottles, all Premier Cru wines from various villages and all from producers I had not heard of. Back at the jeet having opened the wines I soon realised why a) Premier Cru wines were selling in a supermarket for such low prices, and b) why I had not heard of the producers…..The wines were terrible. Now not wanting to sound like a snob they were not undrinkable but they were like uninspired homogonous goon.  All green and stemmy, with little primary fruit and no secondary complexity. Wow I really didn’t think that Burgundy would produce much bad wine let alone this bad.

As Vintage progressed and more and more wine was introduced amongst the group we became a little wiser in our choice of producers and were definitely rewarded. Wines from Patrice Rion, Jean Marc Pillot and of course Domaine Dublere were frequent and sublime. Each wine was different in its own right and really showing the character of the land and the vintage as well as the artisan who grew the grapes and created the wine. That really is what Burgundy became about for me. More about who grew the wine and who made it than the actual land, yet as a contrast and maybe slight hypocrisy the parcel of land really mattered as well, but only to the producers who cared and applied knowledge and skill to their work. Just because a producer has some Premier Cru and Grand Cru vineyards does not mean their wine will be any good, and a good producer can have fabulous wine from Village level vineyards. As a general rule the producer who has poor village level wines is also likely to have below average Premier and Grand Cru wines while the vintner who has great village wines will have spectacular Premier and Grand Cru wines if they have access to the vines.

So happy hunting Burgundy lovers, I am richer for the experience and now more than ever I realise that you have to drink a lot of Burgundy to find a great one but when you do it is a sublime experience.

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.