My tastings in Chateauneuf du Pape and the satellite regions of the southern Rhone, including Gigondas (where compelling geological diversity and altitude make for wines as complex and certainly more finessed than the mother `neuf), concluded with one of the leading lights, Chateau de Beaucastel. Marc Perrin provided some background to the estate and the region at large, during what was a wonderful tasting. Some of the more salient points

The ever patient family

:

CNP was the first AC in France, established in 1936.

When the appellation was created, there was little limestone as a topsoil. Originally, CNP was predominantly clay/sand and galets, with limestone subsoils. Topsoils of limestone were introduced with expansion of the appellation.

The mistral is THE most important factor for the appellation and its quality, according to Marc. Since 80′s, northern facing slopes are increasingly important to counteract increasing heat. Other tactics throughout the appealation that provide structural restraint to balance encroaching high alcohols and sweet fruit, include the use of stems (although Beaucastel is 100% destemmed), blending a greater percentage of later ripening grape varieties, including Mourvedre and Counoise; and working the vineyard to get ideal ripeness at balanced levels of alcohol. Beaucastel champions all 13 legal varieties among what is thus, an archetypal and traditional assemblage.

Beaucastel has been organic since ’50′s.

When planting afresh, Beaucastel uses old root systems as a ‘tunnel’ for new rootstock to delve into established sub-strata ecosystem, thereby tapping into mineral/water mesoclimes.

Ploughing and ripping for aeration of soils before replanting therefore, according to this regime, ‘is a mistake!’

Only major southern Rhone large player, as others: Jaboulet, Delas and Chapoutier, are northern based.

Beaucastel practises a type of thermovinification that is unique in that it heats the skins of whole berries, pushed through pump, for 70 degrees for 20 seconds. However, the pulp or must is not heated. Why? Breaks skins, releases colour and aroma, beginning a gentle extraction process while staving off oxidases; particularly important with Grenache which is highly oxidative. This allows for less SO2 later in process. Mostly used just for Grenache.

Concrete is used for fermenting Grenache with gentle remontage, allowing for a thermal consistency rather than sharp temperature changes, as with steel. Slow fermentation is practised, starting at 18 and moving to mid-20′s, with cooling at the ready if necessary. Enamel-lined, for hygienic purposes. Concrete is porous thus, hygienic risks if brute concrete is used.

More reductive varieties in large format oak with pigeage to extract.

All cepages separate until after MLF, rated and graded after tasting.

Aged in foudres. No new small format oak. Lrger wood is less oxygenative than barriques, facilitating slow ageing. High natural tannins in the grapes anyway, therefore do not want oak tannins. Change oak after four years, thus nothing older than 10 years old. 12-18 months of ageing after blending. Turning point in late ’80′s with some controversial wines, although as one learns ‘would’ve evolved anyway’.

New oak for whites.

20,000 bottles put away every year.

200,000 bottle production.

All destemmed due to heating system and domaine’s policy. Although in Gigondas, the stems are used as the grapes ripens much later (because of altitude), ensuring physiological ripeness.

2010 Grenache (drawn from tank): 30% Grenache, 30 combination of 10% Syrah /Mourvedre and 10 Counoise. Violet aroma akin to northern Rhone, which marks the particularly mineral stained better wines of 2010. Tactile. ‘Grenache lacks an end, although it is very sexy’, according to Mark Perrin. Unfinished thus, unscored wine N/A

2010 Syrah: good component in blend but not well suited as a straight expression in the northern Rhone. Too hot. ‘A link between the Grenache and the Mourvedre’. Very lateral in the mouth and clearly needs the filler in Grenache, while Grenache needs the cut of Syrah N/A

2010 Mourvedre: Oozing purple fruit on the nose. In the mouth, corpulent yet architected by tannins and energy. The best tank sample among the single cepage N/A

2010 Counoise: strawberry and wild raspberry on the nose; white peppery finish. A real smashdown! N/A

2009 Beaucastel: olive and dark fruit aromas with quite a lot of surmaturite, indicated by the forceful kirsch and bon bon notes. Yet while there is a hint of dryness here (thick skins), the wine remains very fresh and long, with a long future ahead. Lacks a bit of zest at this point but made for the long haul 90

2008 Beaucastel: a vintage saved by a late Indian summer and the mistral inherent therein. Better wines were made through abstemious selection of fruit in the vineyard, yet the quality is far from the ’02′s, which many commentators are comparing them to! Herbal and liquorice on the nose, with some spiky tannins but lovely freshness and length with controlled alcohol and none of the over-ripe traits of stereotypical ‘neuf! Akin to ’85 according to Marc, which for him, was the finest vintage ever for Beaucastel 92

2005 Beaucastel: very packed and dense, with little emerging from the carapace of tannins and the sheer avalanche of tactile mass. All mouthfeel right now. 88 (lots left in line here and needs to be drunk in a number of years).

2000 Beaucastel: soft, round and plush; with olive and garrigues notes abounding. Lovely wine to drink now, although enough sandy tannins here, expanding in time as the wine sits in the glass, for age. The wine explodes aromatically after ten mins. To ten years! Love wines like this that change so much in the glass! Burgundy for me, is the measuring stick, yet this wine match that thrust and parry. Best ’00 thus far! 94

2010 Beaucastel Blanc: Roussanne is not necessarily high in acid as many think, but saline and tangy by nature, accentuated by reductive handling in small format oak- extensive lees work. Marzipan, apple and scintillating length 90

2010 Roussanne Vielles Vignes:  old vines planted in 1909. Slightly shriveled grapes when harvested thus, almost a VT or, dare I say, botrytic style, with notes of apricot and mango. Long, full and expansive, relying on a saline minerality rather than high acidity. Love this stuff! 93

Given the slew of consistently warm and heady vintages in this part of France recently, all souped up with considerable alcohol, the ’08`s make for a refreshing change to the status-quo. They have a garrigue-scented moreishness when at their best, that should not go under-appreciated. After all, wine is for drinking and not for pontificating, no matter how intoxicating scores are. I like to believe that ratings are largely a foolish yet necessary evil. The proof of a wine’s mettle is in the glass and in the moment when it is raised to the lips!

Chateauneuf du Pape

Clos du Caillou

Reds

Clos du Caillou Cotes du Rhone Bouquet des Garrigues 2008: warm climate Pinot Noir-like aroma of mottled dark / red fruit, with the echo of 2008 in the background: scrub and a lifting scent of menthol 86

Bouquet des Garrigues 2009: more along my lines of expectation- framboise, liquorice and mouth-wetting length. Avoids the thick skinned drying tannins of so many ’09′s 88

2008 Chateauneuf: blend of le Saffre, Quartz and Reserve to become one wine in this difficult year. Tighter palate, highly savoury with hints of mocha and coffee bean, laced with a savoury tang of garrigues. Long, moreish and sappy 89

les Quartz 2009: Grenache with 15% Syrah. Very luxe. Tastes salubrious, if that makes sense. Fig and mocha notes reverberating on a long, smooth, silky palate of great refinement, length and sheen which I occasionally find a bit boring. However in the context of ’08, a wonderfully drinkable year albeit a vintage that has turned out quite a bit of green wine, this tastes polished in the context. No ’09 dry skinned tannins here 93

les Saffres 2009: more luscious than the Quartz perhaps, yet lacks the tightly defined tannin definition and salubrious fruit of the former. A little looser in the mouth although the tannins build with air, so time will tell. Solid on second sip; yet slightly rustic 89

Whites

2010 Cotes du Rhone Bouquet des Garrigues Blanc: white floral notes with a waxy, appley, honeyed note reminiscent of Chenin, rather than the oily marzipan that these wines often slip into. Ripe yet very fresh year, it would seem 88

Domaine Pierre Usseglio et Fils

2010 Cotes du Rhone: pruney yet fresh and saline. Quintessentially of the region but more skinsy perhaps, than the wines of Clos du Caillou. Nevertheless, a substantial mouthful of wine 86

2010 Chateauneuf du Pape: dark fruit spectrum on the nose, verging into traditional English Christmas cake territory and a spectrum of dried herb and fruits. Expansive fibrous tannins; really palpable and yet balanced by a phalanx of sheer ripeness 90

2009 Chateauneuf du Pape: more robust tannins here, suggesting warmer sites and later picking perhaps than at Clos du Caillou, whose ’09′s are truly exemplary. Very long however and the tannins are extremely tight and finely grained; while the fruit is more red fruit scented rather than the dark and brooding ’10 91

2010 Mon Aeuil (drawn from tank for Parker tasting one day prior): pruney, tight; coffee; rich. Rather backward and difficult to get a handle on right now. Formidably concentrated surely, but not an easy drink. Perhaps that is not the point N/A

2009 Mon Aeuil: more prominent tannins on ’09 in general, yet the tannins are finer, tighter and sandy; more finessed than in ’10 at this domaine. Admittedly, ’10 may have a more mineral take on the nose, yet is this what Chateauneuf is about? Long, sinewy, yet not at all angular. Boysenberry and scrub yet not ‘dead’ fruited 94

2010 Reserve des 2 Freres: opened for a number of days. Drawn especially for Parker yet opened days before his arrival in the belief that the wine needs more time in contact with oxygen. Sheer mass. Dark fruit and volatility with a lot of new barrique tannins. Hits one over the head, but not necessarily easy. These wines must be accepted as they are like Barossa and other regions, perhaps. Not my cup of tea but at least the wine does not stray into the territory of becoming a caricature 90

2009 Reserve des 2 Freres: new oak sitting all over this right now; staining every part of the mouth. Concentrated yes, but will this stand the test of time? Too drying methinks N/A

2007 Not for You: as the amusing name suggests, a wine from the desiccated fruit zone. Overly ripe fruit (Grenache) that was rejected for the top Cuvees, whacked into barrique and sold for an exuberant price. Not for me! N/A

2010 Chateauneuf du Pape Blanc: apply, hint of marzipan and herb; on an expansive palate with refined phenolics giving grip and focus. Perhaps too phenolic. Nevertheless, I love the food-friendliness of this wine 90

Bois de Boursan

Blanc 2010: marzipan, pear and quince on nose, with expansive phenolics that are somewhat rustic, yet attractively so. Long and grippy. No oak at all on this 2010. Usually raised in larger format, neutral wood 88

Rouge 2010: floral; accentuating the Syrah component on the nose; yet in the mouth wonderfully fine grained tannins and an overall gristly, herbal expression of lavender, thyme and black olive. Fresh, fresh! Discarded 15% of stems this year which, for Jean-Paul Usseglio (winemaker), is revolutionary. Why? Given the small yield of the vintage, Jean-Paul was worried about overall ratio of solids to juice and excessive tannin levels  92

Cuvee Felix ’10: more Mourvedre; older vine selection across numerous terroirs: clay, limestone, galets. Dark fruit accented with black olive and licorice, yet far more closed on nose than is usual; broad taut tannins; a brooding wine in need of time (15 years plus). Fabulous length nevertheless, and bristling with intent 95

Jean-Paul did not make Felix in 2008, selling 15% to negociants.

Rouge 2009: richer and riper with more abrasive thick-skinned tannins sans the finesse of the 2010, yet explosive and backward. Not too drying but in need of time. All older oak and a blend of smaller and larger format 89

Rouge ’01: wine drunk over lunch and truly outstanding. Lovely meld of truffley tertiary fruit with the spindly backbone that really marks these wines, hailing not only from old vines, but traditionally made with a greater percentage of stems than those of his neighbours. Spicy yet dichotomously svelte 95

Rouge ’96: older wine from lesser vintage. Juicy and sappy core of red fruit with spiky, green tannins yet not at all cumbersome or awkward, but refreshing and somewhat Loire-like. Very gluggable 85

Beer: the fuel for tasting wine

In Champagne we tasted some wines from small growers, becoming ever more prominent in the region since the deregulation of grape prices in 1989/90; juxtaposed against an enlightening tasting at Krug. Krug is (almost)  always a magnificent wine, founded on patience; built on large reserves of base wines; and crafted by meticulous attention to detail, not to mention the largesse of MH and its capital.

This being said, our much anticipated visit to Tarlant was not diminished by Krug’s mantle but instead, showed a solid set of wines, some outstanding indeed. While the house has been criticized by some for its championing of non and/or very low dosed styles, the wines are assiduously constructed and balance, at least in my view, is attained through quality ripe raw material and long lees aging. This, after all, is the only way to counteract the severity of acidity, bubbles and mineral force inherent to such a cold climatic expression of wine, without the addition of sugar prior to bottling.

The author at work: Krug

Didier Hubert

Brut Premier Cru: generic; quite coarse; substantial Meunier in this cuvee 83

Mailly Grand Cru: (35% Chardonnay / 65% Pinot): creamy and structured. 24 months on lees 91

Extra Brut: tight and a bit ungenerous with only 24 months on lees to counterbalance chalky minerality and brittle acidity. That is why one ‘doses’! Needs more time 85

Cuvee Platinum: 65% Chardonnay-all Grand Cru sourced fruit; with a nice creamy mid-palate (malolactic) and a build of firm acidity. A bit coarse, however 88

2005 Herbert Private: MLF blocked, 9 months aged in oak; fermented in oak. Powerful wine with some finesse although oak stands out a little too much 89

Krug

Clos de Mesnil ’98: based in the heart of the Cote de Blanc. More exotic style noted by the Krug family when fermenting separate parcels, thus decided to make single cru-wine (five micro-parcels within, each of different age), as of 1971 when bought. Fine year for Chardonnay.

Ginger, turmeric, cumin and exotic tangy spice. Big nose redolent of abundant yellow fruits. Mouth-filling and powerful, yet while the oak lays low, the wine is incredibly vinous suggesting richness from oak. Lots of lees, mass and power, with the flamboyance of ’98 very suited to the exotic aromas and Chardonnay inherent to Clos de Mesnil and its swagger 97

1998 Vintage: Fine year for Chardonnay so exceptionally, Chardonnay dominant (as with ’91)

Softer, less exotic than Clos de Mesnil, with apple/quince/pear aromas and ginger on the finish. Loose and flamboyant in the style of the vintage, without the confident strut of Clos de Mesnil 92

Grande Cuvee: the richest wine with more structure-accentuating the essence of Krug and the depth of its reserve wines which, for obvious reasons, are not in the vintage wines. Toast, ginger, marmalade and plenty of sinew and muscle, driving the wine long down the throat 95

Tarlant

House style: barrel fermented, NO MLF and no added yeast. No dosage for ‘zero’ cuvees. Low (2-3 g/L) dosages for others. Pick late. Small stocks of reserve wines here due to small nature of house; only use own grapes; no vin sur lattes and do NOT sell grapes; unlike most recoltant-manipulant who usually split sales to third-parties and then make some for themselves. Chaptalizes when need be up by 1-1.5%.

Zero (no dosage and signature style): currently based on 06/07 with just over two-years on lees. Barrel ageing and ferment seem to augment no dosage styles by giving textural breadth and softness if handled well. As importantly, Tarlant’s style is hinged on picking relatively late to an ‘ideal’ ripeness level, necessary to smooth over the spindly mineral and searing acidity of Champagne 88

Rose Zero: Benoit Tarlant wisely avoids skin contact for non-dosed styles due to the risk of making a wine that is excessively bony (all acid and phenolics, but no balancing sweetness). Therefore blends Pinot majority with some Chardonnay. Coarse and short 87

Cuvee Louis: from a single vineyard called les Crayons, low lying thus refraction and absorbtion of light from river reflecting sunlight; assisting the ripening process. The wine spends a whooping 12 years on lees and is currently based on the ’93 and ’96 vintages, a nice parry of styles! ‘A paradox between freshness and maturity’ (Benoit Tarlan). Lovely creamy biscuity mouth-filling richness. Long, detailed and very, very impressive. 50:50 Pinot Noir and Chardonnay ALWAYS to respect planting percentages in vineyard. If one grape dominates the other Benoit does NOT make it 94

Champagne ‘WW’ 2003 (unreleased yet): 100% Pinot Noir with bottle opened before disgorgement, especially for us. Richly coloured. Bready, red fruited and powerful. Not yet dosed and in my opinion (due to nature of vintage), it doesn’t need any more sugar. Dry yet distinctly sculptuesque and corpulent, yet far from flaccid. Reminded me of a white Hermitage with bubbles! Superb example of how to handle the less-than-typical nature of 2003. A disaster for most, but finely tuned by others 92

la Vigne d’Antan 2000: from ungrafted Chardonnay. Lots of vinosity due to ungrafted 60 year old vines and 9 years on lees and yet NO new oak in the ageing regime. Powerful in a Krug-like architected style, yet not at all cumbersome in its weight/power. Real class and driving, penetrative length. My favourite wine in the stable and indeed, the wine I voted the finest Blanc de Blanc among 150 or so during a recent Tokyo tasting of many top names 96

la Vigne d’Or ’02: 100% Pinot Meunier. Fruity red fruited tang; grapefruit bitterness moving into almond. Round and creamy without penetrative length of other varieties 89

Rebholz

I once found the wines here a little too intellectual and, upon reflection, less than the imminently pleasurable experience I often seek, be it from young wines ready to drink, older wine; or from young wines with the potential for age. I suppose that good wine, at least in my view, should taste good off the bat and also, after age, if it be so destined. I now believe though that I was wrong about Rebholz.

Perhaps, like the scintillating aromas of Cote-Rotie, charged with a tensile rod of acidity and far from the full-weighted Syrahs/Shirazes from elesewhere; or the tautly youthful and sometimes, stringy, Pinot Noirs from Burgundy; these are wines that one simply must become friends with. Acquaintance becomes friendship, and so forth.

These wines are a paradigm of texture. Texture is gained through impeccably selected ripe fruit, extended skin contact (usually around 24 hours) for bite and aromatics; and when deemed appropriate, extended time on lees in a variety of oak formats. These wines boast forceful minerality, freshness and a kaleidoscope of textural nuances that serve as an indelible impression in the mind’s eye.

Moreover, Hansjorg Rebholz’s love of functional aesthetics sees the finest selection of Vitra furniture, including the greatest chairs, of any tasting room in the world.

Pye No. 2006 Blanc de Noir: tight; dark berry fruit; intellectual stimuli of autolysis, acidity and phenolics here; fermented in neutral small barrel; aged for 40 months. Reflects the rigours of the Rebholz style. Intellectual. Invigourating. 90

Weisser Burgunder Trocken 2010: stony, uplifting notes of apple and quince, far beyond the rigour-mortis of most Pinot Blanc. Riveting stuff! 88

Weisser Burgunder Trocken S 2010: richer, more smokily reductive; concentrated and intense yet, perhaps, less the wine in a sense due to the bravado 87

Grauburgunder Trocken S 2010: pear and apple, yes; but the detailed and chiseled nature of these wines is an incredible turn on! This wine is surely too good for Pinot Gris! 90

Im Sonnenschein Weissburgunder 2010 GG: creamy, magnificent and intense. Long and detailed and this is a grape that I once maligned. So precise and more than anything, a different zeitgeist; a different archetype; a different world! Smash my stereotypes! 92

Sauvignon Blanc 2010: clear and mineral-driven. Pungent and no tropical fruit 84

Gewurtztraminer 2010: suitable aromas without ever slipping into either option a. retain acidity thus, pick early. Therefore, lacking viscosity so necessary to varietal expression.

Or option b. pick late=too ripe and thus, flaccid 90

2010 Riesling: divisive style as Rebholz remains. Perhaps too angular, yet one must admire the polarizing nature of these wines as a paean to a voice akin to ‘If you don’t like it, shove it!’ 85

GG Ganzhorn im Sonnenscheim 2009: fermentative simple aromas, but expansive and intense in mouth, without being refined. Bounces around without being long or febrile, as with the other wines. 87

GG Im Sonnenscheim 2009: grapefruit and quince aromas; lovely ripe texture here; with penetrative jingle jangle 93

GG Kastanienbusch 2009: nuts; little about fruit here and all about resinous, tightly melded mineral and fruit weight as a receptor of place; rather than sheer ripeness 97

CHRISTMANN

Steffen Christmann is both a gentleman and

Hansjorg Rebholz

the president of the VDP, the collective of the finest German winemakers striving via, what still remains a convoluted classification system albeit, one that is being honed and simplified constantly to champion wines of place.

2010 practice: long time on skins (24-36 hours)-to increase pH, texture and aromatics on one hand, but also to assist with the precipitation of tartaric acid (as bi-tartrates) due to the calcium content in the skins which binds. Otherwise, as usual: s/less steel for all but Grosses Gewachs. Large ovals for these. Ambient yeast. Fermentation at 22-24 degrees, to facilitate natural yeast work.

2010 Christmann Riesling Pfalz (estate Riesling): broad, peachy and relaxed. Nice entry-level, propelled by lacy acidity 86

NB: Next tier of wines are single village wines

2010 Christmann Konigsbach Riesling (young vines from the renowned Idig GC plot): sandstone, limestone and clay. Peachy-almost Viognier-like aromatic exuberance. Yet then the spice and mineral punch of Riesling kicks in with the wine really dancing and moving down the throat. Very long and intense. Lacy and filigree 90

2010 Christmann  Gimeldingen: combination of light alluvial clay, loess and sandstone. Tightly furled palate yet a wet transparency to this wine. Wet as in it makes one’s mouth moist with the pull of acidity and mineral, ready to eat; ready for another glass 88

2010 Christmann Ruppertsberg: sandy soils. A dainty wine of satiny minerality and acid. Mirabelle and smoke; peach and spice. A fine drink yet a wee tad simple. Then again, who wants to drink complex wines all the time? Certainly not me! 86

Premier Cru, or the equivalent thereof, in this next tier

2010 Christmann Deidesheimer Paradiesgarten: lightish, filigreed wine. A dainty dancer; but not a dirty dancer. Pretty! Lacks the intensity of the better sites and slightly, dare I say, thin with a hint of green 84

2010 Christmann Gimeldinger Biengarten: more concentrated wine with none of the astringent bitterness/under-ripeness that mars the previous wine. Leesy and broad with some muscles yet, plenty of sinew and elegance. Great wine this! 93

2010 Christmann Konigsbacher Olberg: ginger and spice. Broad and leesy; lively and energetic yes; but without the pizazz and sheer wonder of the Biengarten 89

Grand Cru / Grosses Gewachs tier

2010 Christmann Reiterpfad GG: closed and yet bristling with intent. The nose offers little except wet stone, yet there is a prodigious force to the air and depth of the wine. Real pedigree as acid/mineral meld and dance into a long finish albeit, not necessarily with the force that the aromas allude to. Time? 88

2010 Christmann Mandelgarten GG: here there is both roundness and fat, balanced by a driving phalanx of wet stone and rock. Moving into the complex terrain of exotic spice and again, as with the general vernacular of the Pflaz, a smoky yellow fruit note/s, on the nose. Very fine 92

2010 Langenmorgen GG: fennel/anise notes, unusual aroma thus far for the Pfalz. This vineyard is on the move UP! Intriguing, incredibly complex and so, so long. Bravo!  95

2010 Idig GG: broad-shouldered wine, yet tensile and rich at the same time. A wine of immense power and yet, a suave coolness all around, hinting at great things to come. The signature wine of this maker 92

Riesling through the looking glass: Brother and I

Stephan Attmann is a driven winemaker. His muscles are forever tense, anticipating the next movement; eyes darting anticipating the next thought; fingers constantly moving heralding the next turn of the dice as he challenges the rubrics of dry German Riesling by employing protective cool stainless steel ferments and inoculated yeasts for the ‘traditional’ Dr. Deinhardt range; juxtaposed against a more laissez-faire approach to his own Von Winning line-up of wines. The Von Winning wines are, to say the least, controversial. Barriques-new and used are employed throughout, as are ambient yeast fermentations, extended lees time and the occasional slip into malolactic fermentation.

Dr. Deinhardt

2010 Ungeheuer Kabinett Trocken: precise, minerally and lean, yet a little too severe and thin for all of the acidity 83

2010 Ungeheuer Spatlese Trocken: more weight here, but a very tightly coiled highly reductive style; little in the way of pleasure 85

2008 Langenmorgen GG (stainless steel): aromas typical of the Pfalz’s yellow stone fruits, yet very reductive  and too tight in a way that makes the wine feel anorexic, given high acid vintage. Long and penetrative 86

2009 Spiess (Rupertsberg): Broader palate shape, with the tang of nectarine. Saline and palpably energetic, serving the richer `09 vintage well 90

Von Winning

Entry Level

Von Winning Dragon ’10: a nice drink; yet the severity of the dry finish without the breadth of time and lees work, makes the wine feel a little pinched. Certainly not a patch on the Burklin-Wolf entry-level 83

Von Winning Win Win ’10: more open yet, still, rather clenched. Peachy / nectarine 84

Single Vineyard

Von Winning Paradiesgarten ’10: sandstone Deidesheim vineyard: peachy, nectarine, mirabelle and flint which, despite (new) big wood tannins and the breadth of texture that raising in larger oak brings; still manages to come across as highly austere 88

Reiterpfad ’10: more material here due to clay and richer alluvial soils. Seems to have benefited the brittle ’10 style. Mouthfilling. Expansive. Long and tangy yet without great complexity. Not at all severe 89

Grainhubel ’10: mirabelle and smoke with a hint of wild strawberry. This is only the second wine to date that has moved from the tangy yellow fruit spectrum so typical of the Pfalz, to sour red fruited notes. Dry and terse, but not too severe. Not particularly long, but a nice drink 88

Koningsbacher Olberg ’10: loose. Not of region therefore shan’t rate.

Grosses Gewachs

Langenmorgen GG ’10: new barrique tones are very strong here, yet there is a tropical (especially pineapple-scented) note (likely from the toast), leesy curd flavours and forceful minerality that tempers the sweetness. Tangy, oaky and – if you can get your head around this expression – long 89

Pechstein GG ’10: peach aromas, phenolic texture; incredible linearity driven by juicy rather than harsh acidity, meshed with wonderful lacy length. Profound wine, with no perceptible oak here yet some barrique apparently, albeit, three year old 94

A regime that expedites its wine faster than Burklin-Wolf albeit, in years such as 2009, this clearly had its advantages: earlier picking retained acidity, less time on lees controlled the wines’ breadth which, given the sheer ripeness of 2009, was a good thing; and stainless steel fermentation across the range, at least with the extremely ripe/low acid material of 2009, kept the wines reductive, tight and focused.

2010 Basserman-Jordan Chardonnay: simple, sweet; some MLF but overall cloying

2010 Riesling Trocken: primary fruit aromas. Plush and easy 84

2010 Forster Ungeheuer: basalt-driven minerality here; round and peachy 87

2009 Olberg GG: red sandstone. Red fruited aromas: strawberry, watermelon even. Unusual and staining in its intensity. Some phenolic grip for direction. Intense rather than long and detailed 89

2009 Kalkofen GG: almond and other nuts perhaps, yet cool and transparent. Really, this wine has little to do with fruit but rather precise expression of place. Long and tingly 92

2009 Hohenmorgen GG: spontaneous fermentation through the GG range. Mirabelle and hint of smoke and flint. Closed wine but lovely detail and precision here 91

2009 Pechstein GG: embellishes power with precision. Chewy phenolics in Pechstein way, yet not at all slutty. Long, layered; stimulating and very precise 94

2008 Ancestrale: hails from Hohenmorgen albeit, forgotten two barrique that had gone through MLF partially, stalled ferment and some residual; yet this does not forsake an intriguing wine indeed 89

Tasting

At Burklin-Wolf

I am in the Pfalz, the warmest region of Germany where palms and lavender grow readily on the side of the road. The Germans refer to this region as the ‘Tuscany of Germany,’ which makes me laugh given the juxtaposition between Germanic and Italian cultures. Nevertheless, the warm climate means that there is a propensity for ripeness here that facilitates bold, dry wines in a contemporary vein albeit, with much more energy than most Rieslings, Pinot Blanc, Pinot Gris and Gewurtztraminer from  neighbouringAlsace, a region that is a mere 20 kilometres or so away and yet, a region that I am increasingly falling out of love with.

I am writing on the run. However there is something about the raw spontaneity of tasting notes that captures the moment and essence of a producer’s wines, than those that have been rethought, edited and spun in a diplomatic fashion.

There may be some grammatical errors here, but follow my train of thought over the next few days as I deliver tranches of tasting notes from top producers, with my fingers zinging and the keyboard still hot, on the Pfalz; a region of contemporary, dry and powerful Rieslings like no other!

Overview of Pfalz 2010 Vintage

Lost up to 60% of quantity through Pfalz due to inclement weather: late flowering in June due to very cold Spring and ensuing coulure/poor fruit set. Rain, humidity, rot; saved by late September warmth and early October blaze of heat-selection key.

Burklin-Wolf

An estate that is on the up and UP! BW holds wine back longer than others; kept on lees in traditional ovals in a cool (rather than cold) cellar, to encourage long development. Ambient yeasts are encouraged although local strains propogated from holdings, are kept bubbling away as a pied de cuve just in case they need a kick-in.

Located in Forst where industrial mining of basalt up until the ’60’s, has seen man impinge on the terroir in the most benevolent sense, by littering the basalt thorough the vineyard sites. This being said, boasts extensive holdings throughout other town in southern Pfalz also.

Biodynamic farming

Richer style suits high acid years such as 2008 and 2010. Less suited to fatter riper years, including 2009.

Divides wine into entry-level tier, ‘Premier Cru’ single vineyard sites; ‘Grand Cru’ single vineyard sites; using French nomenclature despite being VDP. This has caused some problems. However, frankly, I find this easier to understand than the convoluted classifications of other VDP estates where traditional pradikat tiers (Kabinett, Spatlese etc) intermingle with the contemporary site-specific expressions of Grosses Gewachs or Erstes Gewachs. My only issue perhaps, is why use French nomenclature when one is in Germany? I suppose it is the benchmark for quality classifications. It is also easy to understand; easy to remember. So be it.

2010 Estate Riesling: pick of ‘estate’ entry-level Rieslings thus far due to late release and plenty of time spent on lees, giving the wine an ample generosity and tangy peachy aroma that belie its entry-level status. Far from the anorexic, hard wines that protective handling and rapid expedition to bottle bring. Juicy, expansive and long 86

2010 Wachenheimer Riesling: smoky reductive notes: stony and minerally. Jitterbugs through the mouth into a modest, yet mellifluous, finish with notes of flint and orange plum, mirabelle. Lacks vitality of entry-level 84

2010 Rupetsberger Hoheberg PC: Heavier soil-sandstone with water retaining clay, from Rupertsber / Deidesheim border. Almost exotic yellow fruit: apricot, nectarine, ginger spice. Rich and mouth-filling. A lair! Pleasing, rather than scintillating wine 89

2010 Wachenheimer Rechbachel PC: Sandstone. Clenched and currently a bit mute, although more architected / sculptuesque wine than the Hoheberg. Hard to evaluate 86

2010 Wachenheimer Gerumpel PC: taut and transparent, yet rather than sculptuesque; a racy and linear wine of ballerina-like poise. Real energy here on the tongue and down the throat. Long and dancing 91

2010 Wachenheimer Bohlig PC: more of the smoky, flinty match-struck notes here, yet coiled around a rich mid-palate that is both fruity and tight, without a hint of austerity or looseness. Neither facile, nor intellectual; just a very fine drink indeed and after the Hoheberg, the most exotic of the bunch 92

2010 Gaisbohl GC: Rupertsberg sandstone, with heavy clay top soils. Full-throttle wine of intense yellow fruit aromas, however the attack and finish reside in the mouth, rather than shifting gears and flowing onward down the throat and into the next glass. Intense, yes; but a bit simple and bulbous 87

2010 Hohenmorgen GC: Deidesheim based vineyard, yet on the border of Forst and thus, some basalt here together with the prevailing sandstone of the region. Cooler, highly stimulating fresh expression with tightly coiled juicy acidity that really attacks the saliva glands and makes one hanker for the next pour. Long, focused and exact; akin to drinking the eye of a needle 93

2010 Pechstein GC: basalt vineyard in Forst. Peachy, smoky mirabelle flavours reverberate on a broad, layered and expansive frame. Great weight here, yet not at all a caricature of sheer power, but an evolving current of stony and exotic notes, tempered to a judiciously phenolic and minerally texture. A point! 95

2010 Kirchenstuck GC: less basalt here, thus a looser wine-more open-yet still the telltale mirabelle notes and smokiness of the house’s style, contained in a carapace of lacy, juicy minerality 91

Overview of 2009

The nature of material in 2009 did not, in my opinion, suit the patient and more laissez-faire Burklin-Wolf style. Why? The grapes appear to largely have been harvested too ripe, lees handling is long and thus, the wines are often mealy with time on lees in a cool (but not cold) cellar encouraging rogue malolactic bacterial activity which, while intriguing, is not necessarily the purest expression of Riesling that one seeks at this level.

2009 Gasibohl GC: while very ripe, reflecting the vintage; the wine almost has a bruised apple note, suggestive of hints of oxidation. Again, round and mouth-filling yet aside from force and attempts at persuasion, little other reason for loving 86

2009 Hohenmorgen GC: mealy, akin to raw oats. Berries and cream-almost as if has gone through a wee tad of MLF (and it has, I am told). An odd maverick but it stands alone. While it won’t last very long, it is eccentric and has something to say for itself 84

2009 Pechstein GC: slight caramel / bruised apple hint here too, which is what I found last year in Wiesbaden at the VDP tasting. Still, a tour de force that marries phenolics and a satin minerality to rich fruit. Very long 90

2009 Kirchenstuck: none of the oxidative hints or rogue MLF notes of the other wines. A more detailed wine than the Pechstein in this vintage. A mouth-filling wine of force, sustaining energy with lacy acidity and mineral tang 91

From the cold these wine thinkers came, and into the cauldron of summer in Tokyo they dove! This motley crew of producers and I moved from hotel dining rooms, retail stores and other venues to try and deliver a fresh message to those Japanese curious about wine, or really, anyone eager to ditch the wave of self-restraint and pessimism, inextricably bound to recent disasters. The message is that wine provides pleasure. The message is that life must go on and while wine may be deemed insignificant in the grand scheme of things by some, it is also an avatar of beauty and a moment to savour that does not end with Bordeaux, Bordeaux or the encroaching wave of cheap Chilean wine, currently popular in Japan. Rather, wine embraces a philosophy that is tantamount to a respect for the land and her produce, bringing beauty to the glass; a train of thought that is surely felicitous in lieu of the current Japanese climate.

Phil Moraghan of Curly Flat set the ball for the trip rolling by booking a visit to Tokyo on his way to France, where he will work for three-months at De Montille in Burgundy.  Fred Pizzini and his wife Katrina had been wanting to visit Japan for a while. It remained only to entice John Nagorcka from Hochkirch to venture out of his large and demanding mixed biodynamic farm in deepest south-west Victoria.

Throughout the trip our visitors’ energy levels were awesome, particularly given Tokyo’s summer climate and the humidity that stung my freshly shaven cheeks and the sweat that stained our shirts!

Memorable events included a dinner at Four Seasons’ Eki restaurant, for their Zen Club members and lunch at Shibuya’s long-running Australian restaurant, Arossa, where John Nagorcka opened up his new Tarrington Pinot 2009.  Of a different vineyard from the Maximus, the Tarrington was particularly fine, pure and fresh.  The wine is delicious and poised at only 12.5% alcohol, spinning the stereotype of high alcohols and the New World, on its head. After lunch, the producers gave a seminar at Tokyu Honten department store, to an enthusiastic group of private customers.

On Saturday night, the group hosted a dinner at Salt restaurant in the Shin-Marunouchi Building for a great crowd, around 50 people, including the Commissioner for Victoria, on behalf of the Australian Government, and a representative for Wine Australia. Pizzini Rosetta 2011, 100% Sangiovese and a huge commercial success in Australia these days, was the aperitif and its refreshing, piercing high-toned red fruit was perfect after the afternoon heat.

We then started the dinner with Pizzini Verduzzo 2010 and Hochkirch Riesling 2009 with a salmon carpaccio.  The Verduzzo is a great example of how the Pizzinis adapt interesting Italian grapes to fit Australia’s discerning wine culture while drawing upon their own Italian heritage; ripe quince notes with balancing vibrant acidity. The Riesling is in a league of its own; not at all like South Australian Riesling’s brittle acidity and limey notes. Rather, it is quite Germanic with texture being the wine’s raison d’etre. Yet despite the tactile mouthfeel, Hochkirch Riesling delivers juicy acidity and smokey, spicy citrus fruit flavours to propel the wine

Moseying through Tokyo: Ned, Phil Moraghan, Katrina Pizzini and John Nagorcka

through the mouth, and the drinker onto a second and third glass.

Then, with vanilla infused lobster, we drank two great Chardonnays, Hochkirch Tarrington Vineyard 2009 and Curly Flat 2008 – a study in contrasts. The pure, ripe and very Macon-like Hochkirch was vinified in stainless steel in order that Nagorcka, harvesting fruit from this vineyard for the first time, could ascertain the nature of the fruit and transparency of the site. The complex Curly Flat reflected a style well mastered by Phil Moraghan, with tangy lees work, some natural yeast funk and judiciously handled high quality oak. And all at 12.8%.

We followed with two Pinot Noirs, Hochkirch Maximus 2009 and Curly Flat 2007, with a veal tart – a lovely dish, perfect for Pinot. These two wines may have caused the most buzz of the night, simply due to the discovery that Pinot Noir such as these is not likely to be bettered in the New World with the Hochkirch showing a hint of mulch and darker fruits, lifted by a hint of volatile energy synonymous with minimal interventionism in the winery and indeed, biodynamic handling throughout; while Curly Flat exhibited amazing poise, depth and complexity; living on the edge of just-ripe-enough with edgy tannins and vibrant acidity reverberating in the mouth. Both, great wines!

We finished with a pair of Italians, as it were. Pizzini Sangiovese 2009 and Nebbiolo 2006 accompanied a solid chunk of Aussie beef and they were an outstanding pairing. The Sangiovese is particularly juicy but has some nice slightly astringent tannins, while the Nebbiolo is strikingly, well, Piemontesque, with its leather, earth, sandalwood, rose and tea notes.

To round off the night, our guests were guided to another fine Tokyo watering hole before their departure. Tableaux Lounge in Daikanyama served as the final stop. Late night refreshments included a Thenard Montrachet 1999 and a Puize Chablis ‘Grenouilles’ 2009 Grand Cru, some St Cosme Cotes du Rhone blanc 2005 (600 bottles of new oak fermented and aged Clairette by Louis Barruol), a bottle of Hatzidikis Assyrtiko, a stunning Pierre Usseglio Chateauneuf 1998 (remarkably refreshing) and a sturdy but complex Charvin Chateauneuf 2006. Finally, and in case we hadn’t had enough, a half bottle of 1945 Puig Rivesaltes allowed the ensuing taxi and sunrise to melt into the mind’s eye, and sleep. Matilda waltzed!

Back in Tokyo, my mind is brimming with cultural comparisons and reflections. What proved most memorable about my trip, aside from the abundance of exhilarating dining experiences from the street to high-end and how each of these experiences remained staunchly Thai, without any overt external influences, was the starkly different approaches to enjoying food and wine in Thailand and Japan.

Japan is often said to be a mature wine market and a sophisticated dining culture. While it is true that a certain niche of Japanese wine lovers appreciate the subtleties and regional nuances of fine wines, including Burgundy, synonymous perhaps with an obsession for provenance and detail inherent to Japanese culture; Japan is also a market where consumption of wine has stagnated for more than a decade at a little under two-litres per capita. Meanwhile, recessionary pressures mean that more wine is consumed in homes, weakening the influence of Japan’s legions of sommeliers who are, for better or worse, largely very conservative. Recession and a lack of optimism, exacerbated by the recent earthquake and ongoing nuclear saga, has seen the average price of a bottle sold flat-line at approximately JPY 700.

Meanwhile, despite foreign perceptions of Japanese food being sophisticated-delicate, textured and minimalist-it is also Japan that has given us odd western-Japanese mutations including the egregious Japanese (sweet and gloppy) karei, deep-fried fatty pork cutlets known as tonkatsu, omuraisu (an omelet containing rice and ketchup) and yakisoba (stir-fried noodles in sweet sauce) whacked into a hotdog bun. Yet despite these bizarre albeit, strong foreign influences, mishmashed with the Japanese penchant for the bizarre, foreigners are still forbade from many clubs, bars and restaurants for simply being foreign and in the case of the Michelin two or three-star rated Araki, Jiro Honten and the lesser known, yet highly regarded local joint, Mitsuta, in the Tokyo neighbourhood of Tsukuji; turned away unless one speaks Japanese. Michelin must sell a lot of tyres here! Systemic racism? Perhaps. Inability to cater for the type of service foreign visitors expect, after years of self-imposed isolationism and inability to speak foreign languages? Probably. Likely, the reasons for this disconnect are due to a combination of both factors, and more.

Here is an anecdote that illustrates Asian connectivity, or at least Thai, as opposed to Japanese divisiveness. Among the most revered chefs in Thailand is David Thompson, a foreigner who learned Thai and ancient Thai recipes. Thompson opened a branch of his once Michelin-starred Nham, in Bangkok recently, to local applause. A remarkable feat! While respect for foreign luminaries exists in Japan, the warm embrace by the Thais of somebody like Thompson, at the grass-roots level here, is unknown. In contrast to Thailand, open and comparatively connected to the outside world (despite political turmoil), one must ask of Japan: ‘Where to from here?’.

If the manner in which wine is enjoyed in Japan is any guide, there is reason for both optimism and concern. Optimism, because impeccably stored wines served in fine stemware, at reasonable prices due to a sensitive taxation regime, is the norm in not just a few restaurants, but also in many small bars across the country. The availability of the world’s best wines in select stores is on par with New York and London, at least in the major urban centres. There is reason for concern, however, because in many of these establishments pomp and circumstance is lauded while the enjoyment of wine is accompanied by sombre music played to hushed conversation and sommeliers in tuxedoes, decorated with badges and draped with taste-vins. While I enjoy sitting quietly and enjoying a glass of something good, this sort of stiff environment fails to encourage many new to wine, the vast majority of Japanese, to actually drink it. Instead, it intimidates them.

In contrast to this pontification in the on-trade, consumers who drink at home are consuming increasingly inexpensive and often, poor quality wine. There are few salespeople in stores, or influential Japanese arbiters of taste, able to break the conformist rubric of ‘how to taste wine in ten steps’, and tell the consumer just how fun wine can be, while leading those on a tighter budget to real value without necessarily aggressively selling up.

Conversely, in Thailand, consumption is less than half of what it is in Japan. The duty on alcohol is close to 380 percent and as a result, largely inexpensive wine prevails in the on and off-trades. This being said, new wine bars such as Bangkok’s The Wine Library are ubiquitous and hip. People drink wine while listening to music and chatting passionately. People take wine to restaurants as BYO is largely accepted. Wine in Thailand is seen as an avatar of pleasure; something youthful and aspirational, rather than something that is institutionalized by an hierarchical system of restaurants, sommeliers and bars; akin to a country club. In Thailand, wine is seen as energetic and fun!

While there are some exceptions in Japan, dynamic importers and sommeliers among them, the Japanese approach to wine is often divisive, excluding the curious by way of the elitist carnival. In a climate like this, when times are tough, encouraging the joys of wine should be instead inclusive. In Japan wine remains a niche drink that is becoming stale. It is perceived as Bordeaux and Burgundy, with everything else seen as ‘cheap’. Ironically, it is these less expensive wines that are being consumed! Given the lack of expenditure on wine and socio-political-environmental priorities, what we really need in Japan is attention to good value wines that

Impromptu wine bar

bring relief, but also, remove us to somewhere beautiful in the mind’s eye. To get these wines into glasses, however, demands a fresh approach that embraces the new and to a degree, change.

Now come on Japan, there is neither reason nor time for mucking around in a delusion of elitism! Let’s welcome those interested in coming here and try and include them, rather than exclude them! Let’s nurture a dynamic and optimistic Japan for the future by learning from countries like Thailand that are connected, relaxed and as with Japan, rightfully proud of what they have. Wine may be a trivial issue in the grand scheme of things, but boy, does it taste good! Kanpai.

In Australia I tasted around 130 wines each day, over the course of five-days, as a member of a three or four-person panel. Panel members were interchanged each day. In Japan I tasted about the same number of wines per day, although the panel members remained the same over two-days and oddly (at least I found it very odd), tasted from the same glasses while moving along the long tables lined with glasses and numbered, disguised bottles. The Japanese used ISO tasting glasses which are good to accentuate faults in wine and little more, while the Australians used larger Riedels. In Australia, the best wines of each category, be it Semillon or Chardonnay, for example, were presented at the very end for all judges to taste and determine a ‘Wine of Show’ across reds, whites and local Queensland wine. In Japan there was no such final stage.

Australian judges spoke of length, purity of fruit and clarity. In one sorry case, a scented Chardonnay was rejected after advancing to the final stage due to turbidity. ‘It still tastes bloody good,’ noted one fellow judge. At that point I gazed across the room and wondered whether consumers, for whom after all, such shows theoretically serve, care about a wine that is a little cloudy if it is tastes as good as that particular reject. To their credit, however, many of the younger judges spoke of ‘drinkability’ which is a fashionable term in lieu of, I presume, a growing emphasis in Australia on promoting wines etched with regionality, many of which are coming from cooler climates.

In contrast, the tolerance for vegetal flavors, volatility and terse astringency was generally high among Japanese judges, weened on a diet of marginally ripe wine styles. In Japan grape ripeness is an issue due to what is largely a less than propitious climate for grape growing. Many growers harvest early to avoid the humidity and rot that comes with it. Such an approach frequently demands a bolstering of sugar, or grape concentrate, to mitigate under-ripe or ‘green’ flavors, as well as ropey tannins.

Subsequently I found that light ruby tinged Cabernets for example, were seldom frowned on while few judges cared too much about even high levels of brettanomyces, a spoilage yeast that detracts from a wine’s balance due to a drying and aromatic sensation akin to licking horse’s hair. In Japan there was a great deal of discourse and ceremony but little disagreement and certainly, unlike in Australia, little heated debate. Concensus, the tenet of Japanese uniformity, was generally reached easily.

Interestingly also, certain Japanese reds were dead-ringers for the old-school of medicinal South African wine. This point deserves further examination perhaps due to the litany of theories on this topic.

Nevertheless, there were many promising wines and for me, the Merlot class was the finest. Perhaps this is due to the sturdy nature of Merlot and its earlier ripening window, placed somewhere between the monsoonal rains of late May and early June, and the phalanx of stinging humidity, at its worse from mid-August. Unfortunately I did not get to judge the Koshu

Judging the best of show: Royal Queensland Wine Show

class. Next year, I hope!

The tasting was conducted over three-and-a-half hours on a sweltering day, in a small room. There was nothing glamorous about it. The air-con, stuck on some laminate tiles and dilapidated concrete, groaned against the moral quandary of power-saving in lieu of the recent earthquake. Yet surely, nowhere else in the city presented such a gob-smacking microcosm of deliciousness. We tasted wines back to the late 18th century, all delicious; some bedazzling. The gravitas of the wines however, was juxtaposed against not only the heat, but also the hush of incoherence when it comes to selling special wines such as these.

This is the caveat when speaking of wines like Madeira, but also Sherry and Marsala: fusty vestiges of the Victorian era on one hand; complex, uplifting and invigorating elixirs that work with a range of foods, on the other. How is this divide crossed? In my view, it is crossed by appropriating these wines to contemporary dining situations, be it at home or in a restaurant. It is in restaurants however, that dynamic servers and sommeliers can get wines like these, often overlooked and misunderstood, under the noses of the public. While tasting, I thought just how well some of the wines would synergize with Peking duck and other sweet and salty Chinese, or even Japanese dishes; game; simple roast chicken and even the parry of sweet, sour and spicy of Thai food.

While many of us working with wine in major American cities, London, Melbourne, Hong Kong and Barcelona, in particular, can think beyond the square; the rigidly compartmentalized approach to wine and food pairing in Japan means that Madeira rarely sees the light of day outside of Portuguese restaurants, which are few.

In past articles I have used the word ineffable when speaking of certain wines, for which, words fail to do justice. This tasting only served to frustrate me further on one hand, as similar terms to express variable degrees of nutty, fresh, oxidative (cheesy, rancio), volatile and other synonymous descriptors came rattling off my pen. Paradoxically, the length of the tasting, languorous setting and the sheer glory of the wines, enabled me to experience the ebbs and flows of textures, persistence and the lingering length of flavours, while wallowing in their layers and drifting off to various tunes in the mind’s eye. I ceased trying to put words to it all. Attempts to do so became tiring, paltry and boring, considering the crescendo of sensorial experiences that I was undergoing.

So instead of writing tasting notes in the conventional form, I will try to illustrate my highlights in a sort of sensorial shorthand. Before I try to do this however, the styles of the three houses whose wines were shown were distinctly different: Blandy’s wines are rich, sweet, warm and torrefacted in an avuncular way; D’Oliveira’s style is the driest, producing bony wines that are almost severe without being anorexic; while Barbeito’s wines emphasize poise, with just enough residual sugar to balance the terse acidity in the wines from the Sercial grape, while retaining suitable acidity to give tone to the sweeter wines from the Malvasia grape, for example. Barbeito does not add caramel to enhance colour and, against the grain of popular opinion, believes in the nobility of the oft-maligned Tinta Negra (black) grape for producing top wines, suggesting a vein of experimentation and forward thinking.

My highlights

Barbeito Colheita (100% Tinta Negra) 1995: a ‘single cask’ (actually, two single casks) wine that shimmied between a richness and an edginess, giving a long ricocheting sensation in the mouth, akin to eating hot soup before immediately chewing on the brine of a citrus fruit. Incredibly stimulating stuff! Peking duck, please!

Barbeito Malvasia 30 YO-Lote Especial: this wine is an homage to an older style of winemaking that saw extensive blending across many very old wines. Warm and more cuddly than the typical Barbeito style. A mesmerizing potpourri of aromas and flavours: more exotic than walking into a Chinese herb store.

Barbeito Sercial 1978: a purist’s dream. Like a Turkish scrub in the mouth, soothed by a bouillon-like warmth. Long, tangy and enchanting. This wine was initially so rich due to evaporation in the cask and encroaching (very high) levels of acidity and sweetness, that it was put into glass demi-johns for further aging, before bottling.

Blandy’s Sercial 1966: rich cacophony of warm spirit aromas-rum and bourbon-with a raisiny core; made savory by a pungent dairy aroma, like washed rind cheese. Blandy’s richness is tamed, to a degree. Off the charts this wine! I do realize that I have hypocritically resorted to standard wine descriptors here.

Barbeito Sercial 1910: like a jazzed up and yet, paradoxically, very sophisticated version of a pina colada! Tropical high tones driven by a taut and febrile underlying swathe of acidity. I wanted to play Peter Allen to this wine!

Barbeito Boal 1863: overflowing with a beefy flavour, framed by shrill volatile acidity that, in this parry and thrust between generosity and tensile energy, works wonders. Slithers down the throat into a never ending,moreish finish. Not a graceful wine but very, very impressive!

Barbeito Malvasia 1834: Precise and as sharp as a razor, despite being made from Malvasia.

Barbeito Terrantez 1795: Ever-long, etched and tangy. Mellifluous wine, the ease of which belied the perceived seriousness of drinking something so old!

Bordeaux is a city of handsome nineteenth century architecture, good shopping and a certain confidence which, despite the commercial allure of her top wines, feels provincial rather than international. There is nothing wrong with that of course and I am sure that in context, ‘Bordeaux offers the pulse of a big city without the worries’, as a taxi driver put it. Yet the traffic in Bordeaux is as gnarled as the new tram line is slick and it is this slickness perhaps, for which I have yet to find love.

I was in Bordeaux for Vinexpo, a paean to largesse: endless halls crammed with suited agents, buyers, producers, lycra-clad salesgirls; everyone in between. I soon learned that Vinexpo, unlike Vinitaly or even Prowein, is not a wine show for tasting but solely for business. For me, the naif, this was disenchanting.

While the Loire section in Hall 1 was interesting and the Irpinia stand in Hall 2 well supported by fine producers, detailed literature and an attractive area for tasting; it was what Jancis Robinson calls the ‘off-piste’ events that proved most rewarding. Jancis suggested that the organizers of Vinexpo discourage these extracurricular tastings and yet, given the sheer number of them, it would appear that many producers feel compelled to get their wines shown amidst the phalanx of the wine trade albeit, feel it incredulous to exhibit their wines in the main Vinexpo setting.

These producers likely feel that their wines are overlooked amidst the extravaganza. Given that many of the peripheral events were held by consortiums of organic, biodynamic and/or youthful gangs cheekily inviting attendees to ‘rise up’ for ‘real wine,’ and the like; some of these events smacked of rebellion. Then again, given the expense of renting floor space in the main shebang, it is also likely that many smaller producers simply could not afford to exhibit there.

In any event, my experience was augmented by these ‘off-piste’ gatherings and it is to these that I will return next year, risking accusations of perfidy! The most comprehensive gathering was ‘la Renaissance des Appellations’ which was held in the Grand Theatre, as glamorous a setting for a tasting as any.

The stars of course were Domaines Leroy, Lafarge and Leflaive of Burgundy and yet, it was Domaine Delesvaux and the precise Chenins and scented Cabernets from Anjou; Domaine Prieure Saint Christophe and unusual age-worthy mountain wines of the Savoie; the tangy crystalline Jurancons from Domaine de Souch and, uplifting in the heat of the French scrum, the glorious scents of violet and five-spice from Castagna’s  Aussie alpine Syrahs, huddled near Rebholz’s tango of phenolics and acidity, the type of oral stimuli that seldom exists outside the finest expressions of German Riesling; that satisfied the most. Sadly, there was little Bordeaux among my favourites.

Elsewhere I tasted wonderful wines from two domaines in Pic Saint Loup, the understated and poised range from Chateau de Lancyre, offering superb value; alongside the intensity and chiseled precision of Chateau de Cazeneuve and the tour de force cuvee, le Roc des Mates. Lastly, at another organic sideshow although this one, the ‘Expressions des Vignerons Bio,’ a tasting within the confines of Vinexpo albeit, inconveniently slotted in a remote hall on the other side of the river; I discovered a wine that made me swoon: Domaine de Cebene’s Faugeres ‘les Bancels’. Here, Brigitte Chevalier is crafting stunning wines from schistous terroir, light on their feet, aromatic and bundled with ripe yet stemmy complexity, for grip and grace.

My heart had sunk trundling the halls of Vinexpo and yet, here I was, tasting uplifting and energizing wines from producers driven by the hope that something beautiful will emerge from their land and toil. Suddenly I felt, again, incredibly grateful to be in the wine world.

For those still clinging to the ‘Anything BUT Chardonnay’ mantra, choking for breath, you do not know what you are missing.

Giaconda hails from Beechworth, a picturesque town in the foothills of the Victorian alps. While there is a plethora of soil types, the dominant soil is granite and in Giaconda’s case, granitic loam over clay; not particularly fecund but both water retaining and well draining when necessary; while serving as a heat receptor, absorbing and refracting heat onto the vines in what is an otherwise relatively cool climate. The vineyard is south-facing, avoiding the brunt of the sun’s rays in the southern hemisphere, yet nevertheless, the grapes suffer from no lack of ripeness in most years.

Giaconda’s winemaker, Rick Kinzbrunner is an assiduous craftsman. He is a trained engineer of Swiss heritage. He worked extensively in California. He crafts corpulent yet chiseled wines that are neither the soft Chardonnays, high in alcohol and accentuated by the sour curd of fully fledged malolactic fermentation and toasty new oak, so often found in California; nor are they reminiscent of the tensile wines from distinctively cool regions, including Macedon and the upper Yarra in Australia, where the likes of Bindi, Curly Flat and Hoddles Creek aspire for ever more texture and restraint. Nor for that matter are they akin to the Dujac-inspired wines from the maritime limestones of Geelong, where the top Burgundian estate’s influence marks the racy aromatic wines of Nick Farr (Farr Rising) and the sinewy wines of his dad, Gary Farr (By Farr).

Rather, Giaconda Chardonnay is broad shouldered yet restrained; neither fat nor anorexic and yet, the wine is marked by a wonderful generosity and poise that is, I suppose, all the more reason to embrace the wine as reflective of a slightly old-school style and yet, a style that remains distinctly of place and wonderful all the same.

The second bottle was turbid, fizzy and as tough as nails. Praying that the bottle would suddenly transform into the limpid and glorious liquid I had anticipated, I waited and waited before giving the two sommeliers, both colleagues, a taste. Neither thought the wine sound yet neither offered to take it back and nor did I request, in any direct sense at least, that they replace it. This is Japan after all, where a waltz with ambiguity gets one farther than a curt, ‘customer is right’ schuhplattling.

Pic: C. Lawrence.

Instead I asked what Japanese customers do in such an instance. Given the erudite wine list at this particular establishment, the customers who drink there are likely wine-lovers, rather than those new to wine. I received what I took as an empathetic gaze, padded with the explanation that neither Japanese stockists nor importers accept returned bottles, even if faulty. In other words, the bar would have to absorb costs incurred.

On one hand the pragmatist inside me wanted to screech something akin to ‘BUT SELLING A FAULTY WINE IS LIKE SELLING A FAULTY CAR’, or other such nonsense. On the other hand the romantic in me, tired of the ubiquitous patina of absolutes and attempts at quantifying and qualifying something as sensual as wine, allowed me to push my glass aside and order a glass of Oloroso. I woke up this morning with a pounding head and yet, a grin to get me through the day. My semblance of dignity may be another man’s foolishness but wine’s beauty will not be altered, for better or worse, because of either. As Hugh Johnson once suggested, there are no good wines but only good bottles.

Drinkability is vintage-dependent. A good vintage provides suitably ripe fruit with sufficient acidity and tannins, or structure. These structural components ply a wine if you will, toning down the weight and sweetness inherent in riper grapes from warmer regions; while also lifting the more savoury herbal tang evoked by grapes from cooler areas. Structure imbues a wine with freshness, balance and most importantly, drinkability.

Structure also serves to protect a wine’s core, or the indelible sensorial impression a wine makes when drunk. This core is firstly reminiscent of primary fruit aromas and later, with age, turns into a meld of complex flavours and softer textures as obvious aromas transcend mere fruit associations to touch on the carnal, visceral and ineffable.

Paradoxically therefore, the firmer structure of an ageable wine detracts from its drinkability when young. Drinkability is attained when tannins soften and the complexity inherent in top-drawer Bordeaux, Burgundy and Barbaresco and Barolo, among other ageable wines, comes with time.

Ageability is based on the propitious combination of fruit ripeness, structural components in a wine and many unquantifiable factors. It is dependent on the voice of the vineyard (soil type and structure, vine age, topography etc.), agreeability of climate in any given year, grape variety (Riesling generally ages with more grace than Pinot Gris, for example) and the proclivity of man to further shape a wine’s natural carapace with oak and extraction techniques, in the winery.

In all, we can conclude that good vintages provide more ageable wines than poor vintages, wet and cold perhaps, that occlude both fruit quality and the structural components so necessary for balance and ageability. However, while we can also conclude that good vintages provide wines of sumptuous drinkability with time, we should also ponder average vintages in the hands of good vignerons, vectors of eminently pleasurable wines of real drinkability that appear more suited in many ways, to contemporary drinking patterns and most importantly, pleasure. Pleasure and drinkability are more than just synonymous. They are emotively bound terms!

After all, ageable wines are often, but not always (Vouvray anyone?), more expensive than soft and fruity wines of imminent approachability, made to a low price-point and consistent flavour profile. Ageable wines demand erudition and patience of the consumer and yet, we live in an era when the vast majority of wine, be it inexpensive or premium, is drunk within 24 hours of purchase. This reality is juxtaposed against a dynamic in which the world’s ‘collectible’ (a loose term in need of a definition perhaps, yet I will save it for another day) and arguably, most ageable wines, are increasingly the domain of speculators and the ultra-rich. This paradigm begs the question, ‘Who is ageing these wines to the point of optimal drinkability?’ Very few people, I suggest.

Given these dynamics, there is indeed fine value to be found in wines from reputable producers in average vintages. I am not speaking of wash-outs such as 2002 in the Piedmont, or the egregious 2004 for the red wines of Burgundy, but about vintages like 2008 in the southern Rhone, for example. 2008 was not a great year but it was not altogether poor, either. Are not wines such as Domaine de la Boussière’s 2008 Vacqueyras, invigorating and capable of slaking one’s thirst while stimulating curiosity, more attuned to the precocity of the current drinking climate? I can think of numerous other examples. Wines such as these do not need ageing and yet, they will provide a five-year window of drinking pleasure due to judicious levels of ripeness, neither too sweet nor green, with lively astringency and acidity for, you guessed it, wonderful drinkability.

Masters of Wine Weekend: Istanbul

I was recently invited to Istanbul to attend the second Masters of Wine Weekend. This is an event staged by Dr. Yunus Kocabasoglu, a local lover of wine and food, to highlight Turkish wine while facilitating discussion among winemakers and the five MW’s in attendance.

I enjoyed Istanbul’s languid glow and the ebbs and flows of its waterways; people coming and going in a celebration of upheaval and renewal, imbued with a skittish dynamism. After all, a strong economy hurtles Turkey toward Europe while its terse leaders remain guarded about the sociopolitical repercussions that this may have. While the country is secular, there is a strong religious pulse.

Subsequently, consumption of wine in Turkey remains very low at around one-liter per person per year, a great deal of which is consumed by tourists. Given the negative connotations of alcohol in an Islamic culture, particularly in rural areas, there remains a distinct separation between grape growers and vintners who, by definition, produce alcohol. One winemaker for example, told the tale of being the only winemaker in her village and the first person to ever to make wine there. She bought grapes from local growers who, worried about the association with the end product, sold her fruit through an intermediary.

Despite cultural strictures however, the conference room in which the event took place was near-capacity each day. Around 250 wines were tasted over the course of three-days although sadly, I missed a number of wines due to poor communication by Emirates’ staff and their failure to inform my connecting flight in Dubai that myself and six other passengers were on the way to the gate (and still on time). When I finally arrived in Istanbul, the enthusiasm of those in attendance mitigated my frustration and jet-lag, while the wines were a pleasant surprise indeed. Moreover, drinking nothing but Turkish wines for lunch and dinners was certainly educational and often invigorating. My question when determining the balance of a wine, ‘Do I want another two glasses?’, was mostly answered with a resounding ‘yes.’

Nevertheless, certain wines suffered from an over-exuberant hand with oak and poor choice of the type of oak used (insufficiently seasoned barrels and less-than-ideal toasting levels), which gave a green and raw aftertaste of wood tannins. This indicates the learning curve of many new to producing wine. Better to be zealous than timid, I suppose. Prudence comes with time. In other cases, dilute flavors alluded to excessively high yields, while volatility suggested over-extraction, with many makers indicating extremely long post-fermentation macerations. Dried dark fruit aromas indicated desiccated grapes, picked in what I call the ‘dead fruit zone’ after which grapes have been sapped of their freshness. In other wines, oxidative notes suggested lack of care during and after harvest, perhaps due to many wineries transporting their grapes great distances to be vinified, with scant attention to temperature control.

Yet my impressions of many wines were largely positive, especially with those from the intriguing indigenous varieties, none more beguiling than Kalice Karasi, or KK. KK melds the scent of Pinot Noir with a plumper, sweeter palate akin to Grenache, or Nerello Mascalese. Vinkara’s superb 2009 (see a previous article on this wine at http://tinyurl.com/65p7kzl) would make a wonderful addition to a blind Pinot Noir tasting, while Kocabag’s expressions were also lifted and moreish. The other noteworthy varieties include Emir, a white grape with an inherent freshness and redolent honeydew melon aromas; while among the reds, the suave Öküzgözü, together with its more obdurately tannic blending partner, Boğazkere, stood out. Wines made from these varieties were largely more interesting than those made with international varieties although that is an easy observation to make as somebody accustomed to tasting a great deal of Cabernet Sauvignon and Shiraz.

For Turkish wine lovers, there is likely a great deal of pleasure gained from the globe-trotting grapes and certain Shiraz (the Australian term largely adopted by the Turks) from producers Kayra, Likya and the larger Kavaklidere, were delicious. The Kavaklidere 2008 was a particular highlight with a ferruginous core and an energetic thrust and parry in the mouth between peppery blueberry fruit, filigree tannins and bright acidity. Kavaklidere have new plantings on the Aegean coast where Shiraz, or Syrah, appears to thrive as a highly aromatic and spicy idiom, synonymous with solid bottles from the northern Rhone.

Given the large number of entries and the influence of international consultants working in Turkey, including Stephane Derenoncourt, there will soon be very fine wines from Turkey at large. Let’s hope that the tight fiscal regime allows us to afford them.

Aside from being smitten by the languorous yet attractively edgy currents of Istanbul, I was  impressed by a number of wines, particularly the Syrah / Shiraz category among the international varieties and more so, by the beguiling elegance of certain wines made with the indigenous Turkish grape, Kalecik Karasi (KK).

KK boasts lifted red-fruit aromas reminiscent of PinotNoir, Grenache or Nerello Mascalese, with the better examples also offering a sort of sous-bois complexity, or a hint of mulch. The tannins are slightly fibrous and not quite as silky perhaps as Pinot, yet the better wines are no worse for it. The more expressive styles are largely light to medium bodied, with a sappy vinous texture and thus, real drinkability.

While some producers appeared to get carried away with a ‘bigger is better’ ethos, bludgeoning their wines with too much (poor quality) oak and over-extracting, others sought to express the aromatic delicacy of the variety. Sensitive producers use little to no oak, extract judiciously and pick at propitious levels of ripeness rather than too late, by which time the grapes have entered what I call the ‘dead fruit zone’.

The best example that I tasted and possibly the finest wine shown during the event, was Vinkara Mahzen Kalecik Karasi 2009. Vinkara is a large producer situated near Ankara with vineyards at some altitude. The wine boasts carnal aromas of red cherry, damson plum and a hint of sarsaparilla on a light to mid-weighted frame. There is a lovely tension between the expressive fruit, juicy acidity and gentle tannins and the wine would surely win over many a fan in the iconoclastic wine-bars that abound in New York, San Francisco, Melbourne and Sydney. In my mind’s eye I can see sommelier Paul Greico of New York’s ‘Terroir’, pouring it by the glass!

The wine is certainly a ‘hand-sell’ yet long, energetic and captivating; it made me reach for more than three glasses. Let’s hope that we find it in Asia soon.

The Judgement of Seoul

On May 4, together with the affable Steven Spurrier, I presented a select swag of premium Australian wines to a gathering of sommeliers and journalists at the Academie de Vin in Seoul. The wines were pitted in a ‘blind’ tasting against top French wines made from the same varieties and the tasting was dubbed ‘The Judgement of Seoul,’ following the format of the famous Judgement of Paris in 1976.

The wines, in sequential order, were Curly Flat Pinot Noir 2006 and Domaine de la Tour Clos de Vougeot Grand Cru 2006; Clonakilla Shiraz / Viognier 2005 and Guigal Chateau d’Ampuis Cote Rotie; Cos d’Estournel 2002 (admittedly a poor vintage but all that we could find in the Korean market) and Cullen Diana Madeline Cabernet Merlot 2004. The Australians represented cooler expressions than the norm, both metaphorically and climatically; challenging perceptions.

All wines were judged out of 20. Neither myself nor Mr. Spurrier lodged our scores. After the ‘blind’ tasting, the wines were then tasted ‘open’ with a select group of journalists later in the day. I suspected that the visual evidence of screw caps and the heritage evoked by the French labels would serve to sway the tasters’ scores in favor of the French wines.

Remarkably however the Australian wines were the preferred wine during the ‘blind’ segment in every category and the preferred wine, or equally preferred wine, at the ‘open’ tasting. It is important to note that the event was conducted with an audience of wine professionals, all self-professed Francophiles and eager to tear down the fortress of fruit, heft and sheen seen as typically Australian.

Yet the Australian wines chosen were detailed, fresh and highly drinkable. Indeed, during the discussion of the wines after the tasting segments, I focused on the importance of balance and such ‘drinkability’. ‘Do you want to drink a second or third glass?’, I asked. This challenged those gathered to focus on the importance of freshness and the balance between a wine’s fruit and structural components: phenolics, acidity and when oak is used, oak tannins.

None of the wines were over-extracted nor excessively oaky. Accusations, therefore, of New World ‘fruit-forwardness’ and sheer power winning out over the moreish restraint of the Old World fall flat. All wines were from cold (Macedon), to cool (Canberra), to maritime temperate climates (Margaret River). In my view, all of these Australian wines represent a new zeitgeist etched with regionality and transcend the simplicity of fruit and muscle alone.

In my view, all of these Australian wines represent a new zeitgeist etched with regionality and transcend the simplicity of fruit and muscle alone. Notably, none of the wines were from South Australia’s Barossa or Mc. Larenvale, regions that have previously commandeered external views of Australian wine.

While these tastings prove little concrete, they do serve to buck stereotypes. Moreover they strongly suggest that artisan Australian wines from cooler regions-vibrant, complex and highly drinkable-are deserved of greater attention.

The colour of the wine is almost a garish pink and yet the nose offers refined aromas of crushed sour berries, musk and orange rind with substantial autolytic depth, or the yeasty richness inherent to sparkling wine that has been aged for an extended period on its spent yeast cells. The palate is expansive and the taste is persistent. Intriguingly, the wine is made solely from a northern Spanish indigenous grape, Trepa.

However, what is particularly pleasing about this wine (aside from the price) is the clean texture and dry finish, likely due to judicious selection of quality material and base wines, together with an intelligent decision not to ‘dose’ the wine, or to add a degree of sweetness before bottling. While a ‘dosage’ is often necessary in Champagne due to the tensile nature of the wines and their searing acidity, in the Penedes from whence most quality Cava hails, the dynamic is rather different. Warm for sparkling wine production, the Penedes and her Cavas lacks the febrile edginess of Champagne and rather than being tarted up with sugar, are benefited by non-dosing and a clean dry finish. Bravo!

This wine can be served with confidence to even the most perspicacious Champagne lovers and to anybody who enjoys drinking fresh wine in large drafts!

Oriol Rossell Cavas are imported by the loquacious sommelier Naito and his firm Cave de Relax: http://caverelax.com/english/HOME.html

Follow Ned on Twitter at @rednedwine

Until just recently however, I had not yet been transformed into a manga, or Japanese comic strip. I admit that I had secretly harboured this desire, especially given that a Japanese manga about wine, Drops of the Gods, is arguably the single most influential medium for selling wine throughout Asia. In this particular strip, I am depicted advising the ‘kimonoed’ student about the difference between Bordeaux and Burgundy, while we taste a range of wines. She insists that her bottle is from one region when, in reality, it is from the other. She then realizes that ultimately, wine is to be enjoyed and not necessarily analyzed.

There is something about wine as a vehicle to explore foreign lands and cultures that appears almost exotic to many Japanese; and manga is a means to communicate this sense of yearning and nostalgia, or akogare, as the Japanese call it. The Japanese are, after all, self-admitted sentimentalists. Thus, if wine is to be found appealing in Japan it must convey a sentiment; a story. This story need not be steeped in any hard reality per se, but rather, in the whims of that which is perceived as real. The Japanese have a word for this so-called ‘hard reality’, or honne; while that which is merely perceived as reality is known as tatemae.

Before leaving Japan I had tasted a range of value-driven wines that I had selected for a magazine with a huge, predominantly female readership. I was joined by a kimono-clad owner of a wine-bar in Tokyo’s Ginza district. Little did I know that she is also the well-known manga illustrator, Akiko Higashimura and the attached image

I suppose that all foreigners have blond hair!

is what came of it. I don’t have blond hair but I suppose all foreigners have blond hair in the world of manga!

The 2008 is, as usual for this cuvee, a blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Petit Verdot and Malbec. This wine boasts boysenberry, pastille, cedar and a hint of savory leaf on the nose. Australians, unlike many American producers, are not afraid of some attractive ‘green’ hints in their Bordeaux varietal wines. I applaud this as while excessive piment/capsicum notes are clearly unattractive, the sappy lift provided by some methoxyprazine traits, or the greenness inherent in the Cabernet grape, lifts these wines well and for me, more than sheer muscle and intensity, freshness and drinkability is the most important virtue of any wine. Nevertheless, this 2008 is just a wee bit astringent.

Heytesbury 2009, in contrast, is formidably concentrated yet dichotomously lacy, delicate and a dancer of a wine, as best as Cabernet can dance! A low yielding vintage cropped at less than 2 tonne per hectare, the gorgeously scented mulberry flavors are imbued with finely grained sandy tannins and penetrative acidity giving the wine sheen, grip and tenacious zest that splays the liquid through the mouth into a long, layered and scented finish. ‘Mellifluous’ is not a word that springs to mind when writing about Cabernet but in this case, I think it appropriate. Bravo!

My current sabbatical in Australia has illuminated intriguing wines, largely from cooler climes. These include new and exciting styles, together with forcefully regional and traditional wines – hidden, to date, under the bushel of critically acclaimed South Australian wines. These SA wines have largely been behemoths from warm to hot regions. Together with fruity, frivolous and ultimately, industrial wines at low price-points, this dynamic has forced the Australian wine industry into a bipolar commercial paradigm. This has demanded brutal self-analysis from the country’s wine hegemony. However, a dynamic repackaging of the country’s vinous voice to echo the high quality of her ‘other’ wines, is well under way. While this renaissance may well take a while, particularly for consumer acceptance in Australia’s top export markets, it is riveting to taste these wines at the hearth.

While some commentators refer to these wines as the ‘New Australia’, noted in previous blogs, it is not so new after all. Rather, these wines are cooler regional expressions that, at their zenith, are site-inflected wines of real gravitas. These wines have, to date, largely been overlooked.

In contrast to the small producers’ wines discussed to date, in this posting I will focus on a larger operation in the Margaret River region of Western Australia, Vasse Felix. Vasse Felix is making scintillating Chardonnays which, together with Bindi and Curly Flat from Macedon and Giaconda from Beechworth in Victoria; Hoddles Creek, Wantirna, Yerring Station and Punch Road in the Yarra Valley; and Bloodwood, from the granitic and basalt swirl of Orange in NSW, together with many others; represent a new zeitgeist. Indeed, apart from white Burgundy, I believe top Australian Chardonnay to be the finest expression of the grape in the world.

Some tasting notes:

2008 Vasse Felix Heytesbury Chardonnay shows natural yeast funk and nuttiness on the nose, reverberating on a tight yet, not at all, anorexic palate. Hints of nectarine and cashew bring complexity but it is the tightly furled meld of juicy acidity and intensity that give this wine line, length and energy; all at 13%. Bravo!

2009 Vasse Felix Heytesbury Chardonnay boasts extremely delicate aromas-little to do with fruit apart from a hint of white peach if one has to prescribe something to this wine’s nose. While the alcohol here is 13.5%, still modest and incredibly restrained in the context of the New World and, for that matter, no less or more than most top white Burgundy; the wine is wound and tangy-perhaps a little too zingy and unrelaxed for my liking.

2010 Vasse Felix Heytesbury Chardonnay conversely, offers nothing aromatically but for a hint of unresolved flintiness and an evanescent coolness. Taut and bristling with intent, this wine makes me salivate, drawing me in for another glass and another as I envision this wine’s future after, perhaps, another decade in bottle when it starts to unwind. Yet even now, texturally, this wine is intoxicating.

Frankland Estate is arguably the most isolated vineyard I have ever been to anywhere in the world, yet manned by Hunter Smith and his wonderfully eccentric father, Barry; the wines reflect a commitment to organic viticulture and place. Bravo and another glass please!

As a family we are no longer sure about returning to Japan, the country that has graced us with opportunity, humility and hope for the last decade. Like the waves here – far closer to nature’s power than those I ever surfed when living in California – Australia is a calling, not only for the enviable lifestyle, but also for the wines; exciting to the extent to mock many arcane stereotypes.

Indeed, cool climate regional expression are all the rage here now and yet, it was always the Barossa and Mc. Laren Vale regions in South Australia that absorbed the limelight in Australia and her export markets. Happily, my cellar bellows with wines that are mature, proud and ready; none of which hail from these warm to hot, South Australian regions.

Just yesterday I had two Pinots of gravitas from Eldridge Estate, a winery on the Mornington Peninsula, a maritime clime host to an annual international Pinot Noir festival. First, the `99 was all sous-bois; angular and slightly volatile, upon opening. The clones used for this wine were largely old-school Aussie Pommard clones while more recent successful Pinots in these parts, as with the US, are from the Dijon school. I sort of gave up on the wine, watched some rugby and then returned. Wow! Suddenly the wine had blossomed into a plump, yet svelte and moerish drink, of formidable length and grace; all at 13.3%! As with all great Pinots, each glass evolved and made me think; made me reflect…. on all that will be.

I then cracked the Eldridge `02: sweeter yet still savoury, more layered, concentrated and, perhaps in time, the better wine. Foresight needed here however, for wine is all about the moment and the `99 was me, my family and indeed, an avatar perhaps, indicative of the fact that wine is all about a moment and patience. Patience is, after all, needed for the appreciation of all things fine, just as it is needed to realize that stereotypes, while often true, dullen our facility to grasp beauty when it is there in front of us.

Hochkirch is a small, biodynamically certified vineyard in the windswept barren wilderness of Henty, in south-western Victoria. Here, winemaker John Nagorcka crafts tiny parcels of Syrah into tightly melded wines of both sinew, elegance & force; the type of vinous dichotomies that make all great wine!

His 2005 Shiraz is no exception, with aromas of black olive, peat & violet; reverberating on an energetic palate shaped by the tang of cracked pepper, penetrative acidity and finely hewn tannins.

When I taste now, fatigued for the time being by studious note-taking, I merely ask myself if I can drink another glass or two; perhaps a bottle; of any given wine. This is a wine that would easily bring a smile over the course of an entire bottle; preferably with good meat: a very good sign.