Torbreck offers a remarkable line of wines, priced from the $20s/bottle to the $700s or so. For drinkability, I have always enjoyed the mid priced wines the best; Struie, Gask, and in particular The Steading. I found wines like Factor and Les Amis too concentrated and ripe. Sure, this is what the grapes could give, but is it enjoyable? A bit of an exception has been RunRig. This blend from originally eight outstanding and old vineyards always had a bit of magic for me. I described the structure as if built like a skyscraper, with huge fruit weight and massive tannins. But there was always some balance and remarkable complexity.
After quite an absence, I enjoyed another vintage the other day: the 2016 Torbreck RunRig. I do not want to go into much detail on the flavours here. Chocolate and charred meat are dominant. This wine is no longer the poster boy of Parker wines. Yes, it is still very big and intense, but the 2016 version is more harmonious, and simply more enjoyable to drink. It could be argued that Torbreck lost some of its magic since the departure of David Powell, the original winemaker. However, judging by this example, RunRig has been tamed a bit, and this is for the better. This wine is an outstanding example of what a full-bodied Barossa Shiraz can deliver.
Score: 96/+++
I will start with a cheap shot: If your name is Brunelli you would want to make Brunello, wouldn't you. But to be clear, the 2012 Gianni Brunelli Brunello di Montalcino is a remarkable wine. Remarkable for two reasons. First, you would take this for a Nebbiolo, second, this is a very good wine.
The wine has a garnet colour, and the floral and perfumed notes on the nose are strong. On the palate, the wine is red fruited, and has interesting secondary flavours of leather and smoke. This is an elegant wine with great finesse. It finishes with dry and chalky tannins.
The wine is perfect to drink now.
Score: 95/+++
This is the first time I have encountered this producer and the Karaoglan grape variety from East Anatolia in Turkey.
Many of you will be familiar with the Farrside or Sangreal Pinot Noirs of By Farr. These are quite distinctive from each other, with Farrside being very savoury and structure focussed, whereas Sangreal emphasizes dark fruit flavours. Over the last decade, By Farr has experimented with a high density vineyard, the Côte vineyard. This hillside vineyard faces north, north east and east in three sections. Tasting the 2016 By Farr Côte Vineyard Pinot Noir is my first experience of this wine.
I was gobsmacked. This is again quite a different Pinot profile. The wine is quite perfumed on the nose. On the palate, red and dark cherry is the dominant fruit flavour, but the main impression is the smooth character of this wine, which caresses the palate with immense charm. It is a great blend between fruit and savoury characteristics. The wine shows great finesse, supported by fine and detailed tannins, which leads to a very long finish. This is a softer wine than the other two mentioned, but do not be fooled; it has great intensity.
Score: 98/+++
This wine, from Craggy Range's home block, is a blend of five Bordeaux varieties, with Merlot taking the lead at 63% for the 2016 Craggy Range Te Kahu. It mimics a right bank Bordeaux wine. I tasted this wine more than 18 months ago and gave it a mixed review. Let's see how it stacks up this time.
Howard Park uses the best fruit from its holdings in Margaret River and Great Southern to produce the flagship Abercrombie Cabernet Sauvignon. Last night, I drank some 2007 Howard Park Abercrombie from Magnum.
Rosé does not make it often on lists of serious high quality wines, but the 2020 Thibaud Boudignon Rosé de Loire should be there. It stood out in a recent tasting of about 30 Rosés.
When Ruggabellus arrived on the scene, it created quite a stir. Abel Gibson picked the Rhone varieties much earlier than anybody else and used 100% whole-bunch on Shiraz. Lately it has been quieter other than the announcement he is going back to cork.
The other development is that from the early concept of only making GSM blends of different proportions for the premium wines, he added a 100% Shiraz. This is actually similar to Peter Schell of Spinifex, the master blender of the Barossa, who finally added 100% Shiraz as an ultra premium wine.
Cristom is a well regarded producer from the Willamette Valley, Oregon. Its vineyards grow on the volcanic soils of the Eola Hills, in the heart of the valley. It is a biodynamic producer. The Mt. Jefferson cuvée is a blend of three estate vineyards. Fermentation occurs with native yeast and whole-bunch.
Many of the great wine regions are densely planted, for example Burgundy, Barossa, Marlborough. But then, there are wineries which produce outstanding wine, which sit almost by themselves and create this special place. I find this quite curious. Such examples are Bass Phillip in Gippsland or Kumeu River just 30km north west of Auckland. Today, I will review the 2020 Kumeu River Coddington Chardonnay.
The Ovitelli Grenache is the mid-level Grenache of Yangarra, planted right next to the High Sands vineyard. The 75 year old vines are also grown in deep sand. One of the main, if not the main difference is that this wine is matured in ceramic eggs, not oak. It remains on skins for a long 100 days or so.
The third stop of this short tour was at Cobaw Ridge. Although this winery has been around for over 30 years, I have not known it until now. They make natural wine, if you take organic farming, no fining and filtration and very limited sulphur at bottling as the definition.
Curly Flat was probably the first winery which put Macedon on the wine map for a wider audience. The style of the wines could not have been more different to Bindi. The vines are grown on rich volcanic soil. The wines used to be generous, sometimes quite broad, but delivered great drinkability. I have not been in touch for a number of years, so I was looking forward to this tasting.
It was high time to catch up with Bindi again, the high quality producer of Chardonnay and Pinot Noir. Like in many parts of the country, the rainfall this year has been significant. As a result, the grass growth has been substantial, as can be seen on the photo of the famous Block 5 Pinot Noir vineyard.
On of the wine trends I find annoying is that new and unproven wineries and wine ventures decide to charge the same prices that wineries who worked for decades to establish and refine their styles have managed to command. It is therefore always a pleasure for me to grab a bottle of a well known producer where I know what I will get. This has certainly been the case with the 2016 Vieux Télégraphe Chateauneuf-du-Pape.
De Bortoli is mainly know for its famous Noble One brand. But one should not forget it has sizable vineyard holdings in the Yarra Valley. This 2018 De Bortoli Estate Vineyard Chardonnay comes from there.
This 2015 Domaine Santa Duc Le Pied De Baud Chateauneuf-Du-Pape is a bright wine. Home for them is Gigondas, but they have this plot in the northern part of Chateauneuf. The soil is a mixture of sand, clay, limestone and pebbles. I believe clay dominates. The vines are 90 years old, on average. The wine is Grenache dominant (80%).
The first impression of tasting the 2020 Stonier Chardonnay is the smart oak treatment. Cashew nut flavours dominate the palate. Underneath sit stone fruit flavours, but then again it is cashew nut. The oak influence is not massive, but enough to cover the underwhelming fruit flavours. The outcome is a well made, but not very interesting wine.
Score: 89/0
The winery Miloš, situated about 50km north of Dubrovnik, is astonishing. More than 20 years ago, while all aspiring Croatian wineries went for new oak and French barriques, this winery started to make what they now call natural wines. The winery is certified organic, fermentation with indigenous yeast, no fining and filtration, very little sulphur and maturation in large Slavonian oak (like Barolo). Volumes are very small, only a few thousand bottles per wine, yet the premium wine is found in leading restaurants in Los Angeles and New York.
Pinot Noir is probably the grape variety most influenced by clone selection. Therefore, many years ago, winemakers were trying to identify the ‘best’ clone. They then discovered a certain sameness in the grape juice. Then there was a switch to growing a number of different clones per vineyard which lead to positive results; more interesting wines.
Single vineyard wines are all the rage now, and they are supposed to represent the place where the grapes come from, but do they deliver the most interesting wine? Penfolds does not think so. It is famous for its multi-regional blends. And if you have ever tried Grange, you may have marveled at the layering of the fruit flavours. This is the result of different vineyard sources.
But if you dig a little deeper, a more complex picture emerges. Take Château Cheval-Blanc, the famous right bank winery in Bordeaux. The vineyard has sections of gravel, clay, and sandy soil. They have identified 53 mini vineyards on this site. They have younger and older vines. They grow Cabernet Franc, Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon. All this goes into their famous wine. Single vineyard yes, but a multitude of expressions.
Closer to home, the Gnadenfrei vineyard at Marananga has a west and an east orientation. At the top of the hill, there is little top soil. At the bottom, there is alluvial soil. All this is the source of Torbreck’s Laird.
Vineyards and winemaking are incredibly complex. There is not a one size fits all, but complexity is something worth striving for.
Any thoughts?
I am in Croatia, and while I am here, I am trying to understand a bit about Croatian wine. There are international varieties, such as Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc, Pinot Noir, and Cabernet, but also quite a few local varieties. The good thing is that all the wines I have encountered are dry, and pretty well made. On the other hand, most are a little straightforward.
On the Islands of Hvar and Vis, the main variety is Plavac Mali. This is a cross between Zinfandel and the local Dobričić variety. The berries are small, and the yields low on the stony hills of the islands. Croatia claims it is the original home of Zinfandel. A very good wine I tasted was the 2015 Ivan Dolac Plavac Mali.
I remember I recommended Moorooduc wines to one of my colleagues in the early 90s. This winery has been around for a while and produced good quality wines consistently. Also, its style is different from many Mornington Peninsula wineries, which focus on juicy, straight forward wines. This bears out in the new releases.
The 2019 Estate Chardonnay is a full flavoured wine, with stone fruit and some citrus. The 20% new oak imparts some creamy flavours as well. The wine is quite open, but shows good complexity.
The 2019 Robinson Chardonnay is a step up. Again, stone fruit flavours dominate in this fresh wine. Citrus as well. There is more drive and vitality in this wine than in the Estate. It is long rather than broad on the palate with good complexity. My pick from the Chardonnays.
The flagship 2019 McIntyre Chardonnay has more of a citrus orientation. It is the most powerful of the three Chardonnays. There is a hint of butter on the palate. The wine is well structured and quite ripe.
I liked the 2018 Estate Pinot Noir. The combination of strawberry and sour cherry flavours with forest undergrowth reminds me of a typical Yarra Valley profile. Fine tannins make this a wine of great typicity.
The 2019 Robinson Pinot Noir includes more whole bunch. The Robinson site is the coolest Moorooduc vineyard. It shows in the acidity of this wine. Crushed leaves flavours add to the red fruits and deliver a wine of personality.
The 2019 McIntyre Pinot Noir has a similar profile, but shows more layering in the fruit flavours. It is a gentler wine, not as racy, but with great depth and richness, and a long finish. There is no whole bunch in this wine.
Overall, a solid release from the experienced Kate McIntyre.
As new releases of Joshua Cooper make the rounds, I felt like looking at one of his Pinot Noirs a few years old. The Macedon Ranges are perhaps the sweet spot of Pinot Noir making in Australia. The climate is marginal and there is a fair bit of rain, which Pinot Noir tends to like. A number of new and talented winemakers now try to follow in the footsteps of outstanding Bindi Wines.
Elio Grasso, over the last 20 years, has risen to the top echelon of Barolo producers. Not insignificantly, this is due to the excellent vineyard sites. At the same time, the wines are still affordable (sort of, and compared with peers).
In the past, I have been impressed by the Japanese Kusuda from Martinborough. Now I came across a second Japanese winemaker in New Zealand, Sato in Central Otago. One thing that is almost a given with anything Japanese, is attention to detail and a quality orientation.
The financials of Mount Pleasant have been problematic of late, but some of their key wines shine.
One of my great discoveries a couple of years ago has been the Bekkers winery. Toby Bekkers is foremost a viticulturist. And it is certainly true here that winemaking starts in the vineyard. The vineyard sites are very special, and so is the attention to detail. The second leg, though, is the winemaking. It starts with a strong philosophy here of making pure and elegant wines to deliver a world class outcome. French wife Emmanuelle is an essential part of this.
The colour of this young wine has a green tinge, and it kind of translates to the palate, where the main flavour is pear, supported by green apple and a dash of lemon. This wine delivers a fairly full mouthfeel and is a little broad. However, the fruit is balanced by lively acidity driving the wine to a decent finish.
Score: 90/++
When you have a perfect vineyard site, very small production, and a strong desire to make outstanding wine, you have a good head start. I have described the background of Cloudburst in previous posts. I only mention here that the vineyard is densely planted and bio-dynamically farmed. The focus here is on a rare tasting of a number of these wines.
It started with Chardonnay. First up, the 2020 Cloudburst Chardonnay. I taste Meyer lemon, white peach and wood spice from the very noticeable new French oak. The wine is very clean and fresh, with acidity in good balance. This is typical Chardonnay fruit. All very nice, but not a lot of character (93/+ points). The 2017 is similar. It is a bit more lemon focussed, with the oak even more pronounced (93/+ points). It gets more interesting with the 2014 Chardonnay. This is a more opulent wine with more fruit focus: pineapple, apricot, a bit of lemon. This wine starts to show a bit of age (95/++ points). The wines are closed with screw cap, as opposed to the reds. I ask myself, with the attention to detail, maybe a cork closure would serve these wines better (see Giaconda), as the maturing is very slow.
The valley of Atauta is one of the most astonishing little wine regions in the world. It is an isolated area about 100km east of the main area of Ribera del Duero. What you see is a few deserted stone houses, fallen into disrepair, and tens, if not hundreds of family cellars, some as much as 500 years old. Here, simple presses were used, then the wine was stored in the underground cask cellar.
Wine from the Aurora Vineyard in the subregion of Bendigo, Central Otago is not generally available to the public, as most of the fruit is subcontracted to another winery. However, I thought I review the 2010 Aurora The Legacy Syrah here, as it is a curious mix between warmer and cooler climate Shiraz.
I found the following article by wine writer Tamlyn Currin in the Financial Times interesting. While her writing seems quite extreme, I agree that describing 7 different fruits as flavour components (some of which you would never have tasted) is quite unhelpful. Here it goes:
In the space of a couple of weeks, the JancisRobinson.com editorial inbox received three emails on the subject of tasting notes. One reader wrote, “Whilst I’m certainly not questioning her palate, Tamlyn has to be taking the mickey out of us with some of her tasting notes in the champagne article.” He was particularly offended by the way I described a wine’s acidity by its shape, which I perceived as four-cornered, developing into an arrow of piercing triangularity on the finish. One reader, a Switzerland-based Master of Wine, wrote: “I just wanted to say that I think your tasting notes are superb! You are my favourite tasting note writer of the past two years — great imagination and descriptions!”. The third email read, “Just a comment and pet peeve. Why do the reviewers seem to need to put every fruit in their descriptions?” Tasting notes are as controversial as scoring systems within the wine world. But while the arguments for and against scoring are well worn, the conflict around the language we use to describe wine is more of a war by stealth. People love to take pot shots at the way other people write. I’ve watched this happen for years, not only in wine-related forums and across dinner tables, but also in books and articles written by professionals. Many of these criticisms are undisguised attacks against fellow wine writers, always from a position of contemptuous superiority. Entire books have been written and courses designed to teach us how to communicate what we taste. The format is almost always rigid, prescriptive and pedantic. It comes with a tacit understanding that there is a right and a wrong way to do things. Descriptions should conform to broadly accepted groups of fruit, flowers, spices and herbs, with a few other reference points such as chocolate, bread, nuts or smoke “allowed” on occasion. It’s useful, especially for novices, and brings discipline to business communications. But scientific research has shown over and over that wine tasting is a uniquely individual experience, based on a myriad of complex cultural, anatomical and psychological factors. The simple truth, which many wine experts prefer to ignore, is that there is no such thing as pure objectivity when it comes to reviewing wine. By extension, there is no such thing as a right or wrong way to write about it. My first lesson in metaphor came from Jancis, who told me more than 15 years ago that it is more important to describe the shape of the wine in your mouth than to list flavours. Back when I was tasked with transcribing tasting notes from her hieroglyphic shorthand, I found myself typing up a tasting note for a 1976 Mosel. It read: “Piano teacher”. I knew exactly what she meant. I had a piano teacher growing up. She was 75 and parchment thin, very strict, always disapproving. I didn’t practise my scales, and my fingers were rapped with a ruler on a regular basis. The house smelt of potpourri and mustiness. Jancis had added a note clarifying that the term was “my shorthand for a smell of macerated raisins and very slightly musty velours” but it wasn’t necessary. “Piano teacher” said it all. Some of the wine writing that sticks with me the most is that which leans on metaphor. In Reading Between the Wines, the importer and writer Terry Theise describes the variety Scheurebe as “Riesling just after it read the Karma Sutra”. After reading that, you will never taste a Scheurebe again without a naughty smile flitting across your face. Back when I transcribed Jancis’s tasting notes, I found myself typing one for a 1976 Mosel. It read: ‘Piano teacher’. I knew exactly what she meant In The Wine Dine Dictionary, Victoria Moore, in describing Sangiovese, writes, “Where Merlot is smooth, as if it’s been smoothed in and grouted up, Sangiovese has texture, like the crenelations of the battlements found all over Tuscany.” If you’ve ever had a glass of Tuscan Merlot and Tuscan Sangiovese side by side, you will know exactly what she means. Andrew Jefford writes of Barbaresco that “you taste drama and dust and bitterness as the wine turns to liquid rags in your mouth, and sails off with an angry asperity”. When writing about 2010 Mas del Serral made by Pepe Raventós, he tells the reader to see “a scene as intricately constructed as a watch”. “This sparkling wine,” he writes, “is the cloister of Santo Domingo de Silos: a honeycomb of light, chased about by dragons, centaurs and mermaids imagined by lost stone carvers.” That’s quite a metaphor. Master of wine Nick Jackson wrote a groundbreaking book based on his experience learning to identify wine blind, not through the tried-and-tested matrices of BLIC — balance, length, intensity, complexity — but through the perceived shape of the wine in the mouth based on acidity. It was both revelatory and liberating for me, who tastes in a multisensory, multidimensional sphere, to finally come across someone who identified Albariño as cuboid and Chardonnay as cylindrical. It was Mary Hesse who argued that metaphor is more than decorative, that it has “cognitive implications whose nature is a proper subject of philosophic discussion”. I have a vested interest in agreeing with her. The way I write about wine is sometimes so extremely metaphorical that my editors protest. A tasting note I wrote for a Roussillon reads: “Put your old leather boots on — the ones that feel like second skin, that you’ve loved for years. Pick up that hip flask filled with damson wine. There’s a punnet of ripe cherries on the kitchen table — put them in your backpack. Slam the back door behind you, grab the strong hand of the person you love most, stride out into the cold winter wind feeling the rough stones of the dirt track below your feet and start walking towards that rugged peak etched against a wide sky. Smell the scent of dry winter garrigue, feel the burn of muscle and your heart pounding as you begin to climb, the earth falling away beneath you. Get to the top, find a rock, turn your face into the cut of the wind, open that hip flask, bite into a cherry, feel the juice running down your chin, and laugh. That is this wine.” I know. There are no cherries in winter. But imagine how it would feel if there were. From time immemorial, humans have sat around their (real and metaphorical) fires and told stories. These may have been about gods, ancestors and spirits, but the actuality was not what mattered. The spirit of them was intended to resonate with the spirit of the listener. We allow diversity of literary styles, of music, of art. Why not the way we describe a wine? Diversity underpins the resilience of a thing. It gives everyone a voice and opens up a closed system of communication. I appreciate that not everyone is comfortable with getting their tasting notes in metaphorical form. By the same token, not everyone relates to a wine described by its detectable volatile compounds, acidity levels and measurable dry density. As with jazz, pop, classical and folk, everyone can find the style they are most comfortable with. Perhaps I don’t write about wines in the way my fellow wine writers do, but with our different voices, we can reach more people. The world is big enough for us all.While all the talk is about the new 2018 Grange, I had a rare opportunity to taste four back vintages side by side.
I have followed this tiny producer for many years and written up a number of his Pinot Noirs. He is still on top of his game.
This is a brief review of some Australian premium Cabernets.
I remarked in my last Penfolds post about the subtle changes in the wines, which boils down to increased accessibility at young age. The other major shift is the positioning as a global luxury brand: one day its handbags, but today it's the launch of the Penfolds 2022 Collection.
Many years ago, I drank some 20 year old Emily's Paddock, which was terrific with its very special leathery and savoury characteristics. Yesterday, I drank a much younger wine, the 2017 Jasper Hill Emily's Paddock.
Massena is an interesting brand to look at for those who like Dan Standish wines, but prefer to avoid the prices of the Standish Wine Company, as he is making the wines for this label. Having said this, the 2018 Massena Stonegarden Shiraz is not as cheap as it once was.
