When you go to a wine show, the last thing you want to do is give your honest opinion of a bad wine to the exhibitor’s face. Usually exhibitors make you taste your way through a forest of appalling lesser wines – usually their ‘unwooded Chardonnay’ (code for ‘we’re pricing this at £2 so we can’t afford oak barrels’), or their ‘unique’ Riesling-Viognier blend (code for ‘it’s much easier to offload one badly made wine than two’), or their ‘barbecue Rosé’ ‘for drinking rather than thinking’ according to the pamphlet – before they let you loose on the good stuff.
Accordingly it is wise counsel for the amateur, if he doesn’t want to lie outright or attract the exhibitor's ire in the form of a glass to the face or a corkscrew to the bottom, to at least cloak his true opinion in apparently complimentary terms. I learnt this lesson very quickly after describing a 1991 Chateau Pichon Lalande as 'stinking like a public toilet' to one of the chateau's reps direct from France, and we all know how the Bordelais take such comments. I had to move hemispheres before I was able to blag my way back into a Bordeaux trade tasting, and have shut the hell up ever since. So when Cookie told me at yesterday’s Loire Valley tasting in our living room that the 2004 Domaine de la Cotellaraie St-Nicolas-de-Bourgueil (£8) ‘stank of farts and poo’ I quickly reminded her that in wine parlance we would prefer her to say it ‘had a wild, untamed earthy nose of barnyard and truffles’.
In the wine’s defence, the initial bottle stink went away after a couple of hours and in my opinion was one of the standouts of the tasting. The nose ended up developing a rich fruitcaky character, the palate following through with dried fruits, pepper and a ripe tannin finish.
Here are my notes for the rest of the stuff we tasted yesterday.
First a pair of Muscadets. 2005 Chais de la Grange Muscadet (£5) was pretty much par for the course – soft nose of white fruits, a little salty and yeasty, with a prickly finish on the tongue. Not at all interesting, but textbook in style. Ruth didn’t think it really smelt of anything, which is probably right. Beside it, a 2005 Le Vieux Chai Muscadet Sèvre et Maine ‘Sur Lie’ (£5), which was not showing at its best. Ruth noticed an unattractive, solvent/glue note on the nose – others thought it was like aniseed (Adam), pear drop ester (Andrew) and bananas (Bobby). Not particularly pleasant at all. Crowd reaction: boring.
Then a pair of Sauvignon Blancs – one Sancerre, one Pouilly-Fumé. Personally I’d like some definitive guidance on what the stylistic differences are between these two regions. The World Atlas of Wine (5th edn) says that ‘The best of each are on the same level; the Sancerre perhaps slightly fuller and more obvious, the Pouilly-Fumé more perfumed.’ In complete contradiction Roger Voss’s Wines of the Loire, Alsace and the Rhone says of Pouilly-Fumé ‘the wines tend to be fuller, higher in alcohol, richer and longer lasting than white Sancerre, but sometimes lack the initial crisp fruit.’ So go figure. 2005 Domaine Daniel Crochet Sancerre (£10) is perhaps a more restrained, closed example of the style. Evident alcoholic heat on the nose, followed by white fruits and only faint hints of the grassy, herbaceous character of the grape. The palate is light bodied, with a hint of orange and decent acidity. The 2004 Domaine Cailbourdin Pouilly-Fumé ‘Les Cris’ (£9) on the other hand is a pungent bastard – celery salt, herbs, cut grass, tomato leaves, wet slate, gun smoke. ‘Acidy plant smell’ according to Neil. Palate follows in the extracted herbaceous vein, with citrus and mint in the mix, finishing with really high, persistent acid. Personally I preferred it over the Sancerre, but I was in the minority – the crowd generally preferred the more restrained Sancerre.
And finally in the white department a pair Chenin Blancs from Savennières. 2004 des Forges ‘Clos du Papillon’ (£11) I’ve already noted elsewhere, but was really showing at its best with its opulent honeycomb/chocolate nose, fat, floral, sandalwood palate and chalky finish. The 2004 Chateau Pierre-Bise ‘Clos de Coulaine’ (£10) was also impressive. Golden colour, nose of red apples, sandalwood and honey. The palate entry is slightly sweetish, with honeycomb and heather characters and finishing very dry with very high acid. Crowd reaction: bouquets.
The red bracket began with a Gamay – 2005 Domaine St Nicolas ‘Les Gammes en May’ (£7). I’ve tried this wine a few times now and I’m afraid I don’t like it. The colour is a bright lustrous purple, but the nose is brackish and dank. The palate is a bit tingly, with red cordial and boiled lolly characters, but these fade behind a bitter, green flinty character. Crowd reaction: If my pet made this smell I’d send it outside.
Then two jolly decent Cabernet Francs. The 2004 Domaine Wilfred Rousse Chinon 'Les Galuches' (£8) is mid red with a purple tinge. Nose is metallic (Cookie – ‘like staples’) with charcoal hints, blackcurrant, raisin and tomato leaves. The palate is supple and round, with soft ripe plums, jam, and cherry pie, with a tight minerally finish. Well structured. And the Domaine de la Cotellaraie I’ve already noted at the beginning of this post. Crowd reaction: varied, from ‘farts and poo’ through to ‘pretty promising, actually’.
Strictly this was supposed to be a Loire tasting, but I decided to throw in a few Merlot-based Bordeaux blends for variety’s sake and because you just can’t find that many interesting Loire reds in one’s local High Street retailer (and I’m not yet prolific enough to have Chateaux throw free wine at me for my opinion).
So, first was 2001 Chateau Barrabaque (Canon Fronsac) (£16). The nose is dominated by cedar wood and vanilla, with almost no fruit showing, and is far from integrated. The full bodied palate is still tight, finishing with ripe tannins. A few years yet before it will be showing at its best. This was followed by 2000 Chateau Franc La Rose (St Emilion) (£16), which was very promising on the nose – fruitcake, mint, generous dried fruits and beginning to integrate very well. Unfortunately the palate delivered less what the nose promised, and is ungenerously minerally, with river water streaks and even fish (Andrew). The 2003 Chateau Preuillac (Medoc Cru Bourgeois) (£13) was showing the best of the Bordeaux reds. Generous chocolate and coffee aromas, with a ripe palate of blackcurrant and black cherries and soft ripe tannins on the finish. Very 2003 with its amplified fruit and ‘baked’ character. Crowd reaction: flat patch bullies – Bordeaux will always taste superior when following Loire Cabernet Francs.
As has become my custom, we finished with a crowd pleasing sweet wine – 2003 Chateau Pierre-Bise Coteaux du Layon Beaulieu ‘Clos de la Soucherie’. Dried apples and honeycomb on the nose, palate is fresh but ultra-sweet, finishing dry and chalky.
Monday, 28 May 2007
Sunday, 20 May 2007
Classed Growth Bordeaux blind tasting
I love red Bordeaux – it’s the answer I give when people ask me the unanswerable question “what is your favourite wine?” simply so that I don’t have to give a long-winded explanation to someone who probably doesn’t care and was only being polite. (Anyone who does care would probably ask a better question). But I learnt two things at a tasting of classed growth Bordeaux on Saturday.
First, when you get a good Bordeaux in a lineup of random wines (of equivalent quality, let’s say), it sits head and shoulders above the others in terms of its attraction, and it becomes very easy to label it ‘beautiful’ or ‘classic’. But when you try a lineup of good Bordeaux against each other, one’s critical faculties come to the fore, and no wine seems good enough for approval, when under any other conditions, any of them would probably emerge the favourite. I was really disappointed that in yesterday’s lineup of 6 wines, I only really liked one or two of them. But I bet that if any of them had been presented on its own or in a lineup of other wines I would have been making all the right noises about it. Lesson: don’t drink a lineup of just classed growth Bordeaux if you want to cream your pants over every sip.
Second, when I try a glass of Bordeaux on its own, I always struggle to find more than a few generic descriptors for the wine – blackcurrants, cedar, mint, tobacco. But when I try a lineup of all Bordeaux, a whole spectrum of flavours appears that is much wider than I would have expected, and includes flavours that I would never even expect to find in Bordeaux let alone in such abundance. Turns out the people from Berry’s aren’t bullshitting me in their daily emails encouraging me to purchase wine I couldn’t afford in my wildest dreams. Lesson: if you want to expose the variety of Bordeaux, drink it in a lineup of Bordeaux. Why must the lessons conflict?
Anyway, here are my notes for the wines tasted.
1995 Chateau Lagrange (St Julien)
Mid red, with a brickish rim. Nose shows mint, river pebbles, blackcurrants, mulberry leaves. The palate is on the thin side, to be perfectly honest, with a little too much acid for my liking and almost no tannin at all, and slightly sour on the finish compared with the others. Fully developed, I don’t think it will improve greatly from now on.
1998 Chateau Langoa Barton (St Julien)
Dark red-purple. The nose is fairly closed and restrained, but what does emerge is quite fragrant – perfumed sour cherries. The palate has a more cedary edge to it and is rather green but finishing with fine tannins. To be honest, neither of the two St Juliens excited me that much, despite having been impressed on previous occasions by the same wines on their own.
1995 Chateau d’Armailhac (Pauillac)
The two Pauillacs were the two that most obviously reflected their terroir, and this one was the most classic of the wines tasted. Nose of cedarwood, blackcurrants and tobacco, the palate is plummy with violets and a minerally streak to it, finishing with medium tannins. All elements well integrated and mature, and showing some complexity.
1999 Chateau d’Armailhac (Pauillac)
The general consensus was that this was the favourite wine of the afternoon, and I agree. Mid-red in colour, with an opulent nose of ground coffee, chocolate and cigar-box aromas. The palate is supple and concentrated, with ripe red fruit and finishing with mouth-coating, persistent tannins. Well proportioned and will continue to improve in years to come.
1995 Chateau Haut-Bailly (Pessac Leognan)
Nobody could believe this was a 1995 – still an incredibly youthful wine, and built to last. The other interesting thing is that the half of us that didn’t think it was Pessac, thought it was St Estephe, such was the minerality of the wine and the power of the tannins. But wrong we were, and to my mind it is interesting that so many people were wrong in the same way given how remotely different the two communes are. Anyway the nose is minerally, with loads of slate, river water and wet pebbles, with ink and green capsicum too. The palate is forward with loads of ripe fruit and mint, with a long finish with very firm, drying tannins. Powerful.
2002 Domaine de Chevalier (Pessac Leognan)
Mid-red, nose of caramel, rhubarb and cream, boiled cherries and mulberry leaves. The palate is restrained and a bit green, with oak that is a far way from being integrated. A few years yet before it is ready.
We joined a party at a Lebanese restaurant after the tasting. Naturally the only thing on the wine list there was Chateau Musar, so we had a bottle of the 1997 with our meal, which I suppose is worth noting. Translucent red (but throwing a massive deposit), nose of raisins, spices and dried fruit. Palate is relatively light, and forwardly fruity with bright acid, but almost no trace of tannin on the finish.
First, when you get a good Bordeaux in a lineup of random wines (of equivalent quality, let’s say), it sits head and shoulders above the others in terms of its attraction, and it becomes very easy to label it ‘beautiful’ or ‘classic’. But when you try a lineup of good Bordeaux against each other, one’s critical faculties come to the fore, and no wine seems good enough for approval, when under any other conditions, any of them would probably emerge the favourite. I was really disappointed that in yesterday’s lineup of 6 wines, I only really liked one or two of them. But I bet that if any of them had been presented on its own or in a lineup of other wines I would have been making all the right noises about it. Lesson: don’t drink a lineup of just classed growth Bordeaux if you want to cream your pants over every sip.
Second, when I try a glass of Bordeaux on its own, I always struggle to find more than a few generic descriptors for the wine – blackcurrants, cedar, mint, tobacco. But when I try a lineup of all Bordeaux, a whole spectrum of flavours appears that is much wider than I would have expected, and includes flavours that I would never even expect to find in Bordeaux let alone in such abundance. Turns out the people from Berry’s aren’t bullshitting me in their daily emails encouraging me to purchase wine I couldn’t afford in my wildest dreams. Lesson: if you want to expose the variety of Bordeaux, drink it in a lineup of Bordeaux. Why must the lessons conflict?
Anyway, here are my notes for the wines tasted.
1995 Chateau Lagrange (St Julien)
Mid red, with a brickish rim. Nose shows mint, river pebbles, blackcurrants, mulberry leaves. The palate is on the thin side, to be perfectly honest, with a little too much acid for my liking and almost no tannin at all, and slightly sour on the finish compared with the others. Fully developed, I don’t think it will improve greatly from now on.
1998 Chateau Langoa Barton (St Julien)
Dark red-purple. The nose is fairly closed and restrained, but what does emerge is quite fragrant – perfumed sour cherries. The palate has a more cedary edge to it and is rather green but finishing with fine tannins. To be honest, neither of the two St Juliens excited me that much, despite having been impressed on previous occasions by the same wines on their own.
1995 Chateau d’Armailhac (Pauillac)
The two Pauillacs were the two that most obviously reflected their terroir, and this one was the most classic of the wines tasted. Nose of cedarwood, blackcurrants and tobacco, the palate is plummy with violets and a minerally streak to it, finishing with medium tannins. All elements well integrated and mature, and showing some complexity.
1999 Chateau d’Armailhac (Pauillac)
The general consensus was that this was the favourite wine of the afternoon, and I agree. Mid-red in colour, with an opulent nose of ground coffee, chocolate and cigar-box aromas. The palate is supple and concentrated, with ripe red fruit and finishing with mouth-coating, persistent tannins. Well proportioned and will continue to improve in years to come.
1995 Chateau Haut-Bailly (Pessac Leognan)
Nobody could believe this was a 1995 – still an incredibly youthful wine, and built to last. The other interesting thing is that the half of us that didn’t think it was Pessac, thought it was St Estephe, such was the minerality of the wine and the power of the tannins. But wrong we were, and to my mind it is interesting that so many people were wrong in the same way given how remotely different the two communes are. Anyway the nose is minerally, with loads of slate, river water and wet pebbles, with ink and green capsicum too. The palate is forward with loads of ripe fruit and mint, with a long finish with very firm, drying tannins. Powerful.
2002 Domaine de Chevalier (Pessac Leognan)
Mid-red, nose of caramel, rhubarb and cream, boiled cherries and mulberry leaves. The palate is restrained and a bit green, with oak that is a far way from being integrated. A few years yet before it is ready.
We joined a party at a Lebanese restaurant after the tasting. Naturally the only thing on the wine list there was Chateau Musar, so we had a bottle of the 1997 with our meal, which I suppose is worth noting. Translucent red (but throwing a massive deposit), nose of raisins, spices and dried fruit. Palate is relatively light, and forwardly fruity with bright acid, but almost no trace of tannin on the finish.
Saturday, 12 May 2007
Top wines from Yalumba
I tend to eschew wine from my homeland. It was all I drank until I was 26 and moved to the UK. Ever since I’ve been playing catch-up with the rest of the world’s wine regions, whilst earnestly defending Australia’s ability to produce excellent wine (perhaps a view that is gently being eroded the more my palate becomes attuned to old world wines).
Anyway, Australia DOES produce superb wine, as a tasting of Yalumba’s top cuvees yesterday, proved.
The star for me was the 2000 Yalumba ‘Octavius’ Barossa Valley Shiraz (£45). The nose is dark, introspective, brooding: cool coffee grounds woven with caramel, chocolate, vanilla and pepper. It is the Shostakovich of wines, or perhaps the James Joyce of wines – many layered, complex, difficult to understand and hard to consume in all but small doses. The palate is dense as a black hole but maintains its elegance. There’s no doubt this is an extraordinarily powerful wine, but not in a jammy, over-baked, overtly fruity, flabby way. It’s just extremely amplified. It's all muscle and no fat. Perhaps a good match for venison or kangaroo.
The 2002 Octavius is similar in style and structure, but a little too young for drinking now (the 2000 is developing nicely but still has many years ahead of it). The nose shows wood smoke, plum jam and perfumed violets. The palate, again massive, is still fresh and youthful with clean acid and tannins pronounced enough to maintain good structure. It’s hard to believe the Octavius is matured in American oak, let alone in such tiny vessels as the tiny 90-litre new ‘Octaves’ that are used, as the oak treatment is subtle. It lends a spicy hint to the wine – but not at all the dusty, woodchippy, bitter hiding that American oak so often gives to a wine.
Just to compare what the old world does with shiraz, we tried a 1996 Chapoutier Cote Rotie against the two Octaviuses (Octavii?). Here we move from Joyce to John Steinbeck. This wine has a fuck-off savoury nose, with celery salt, leather, pepper, bacon, dry meat. It is as if water has never deigned to fall on the land these vines were planted on. The thin palate has very developed dry cherry and leather-bound library book characters. It may have been open a little long – to my palate it was getting thin and tired, but still showed a remarkable contrast to the oily, voluptuous Australian versions.
The 2002 Yalumba ‘Menzies’ Coonawarra Cabernet Sauvignon (£23) is Yalumba’s top cabernet. At the moment it is far too young to drink but will get there, I think. The nose is laden with fresh green capsicum, cedar bark, menthol oil and, as my flatmate Andy’s friend put it – Silvo. The palate is very tight. After breathing for several hours it is more recognisably cabernet like, with blackcurrant and cedar characters. But frankly, everything is just a little too primary and aggressive at the moment. It had been said that the winemakers had made a decision to modernise this wine in recent years, making it less tannic and green. Having no basis for comparison, I don't know whether this has worked or not. To me, it was still a very tight, green wine. But in a good five years it may well be a different wine altogether.
Then a few odds and ends to finish off the afternoon. 2004 Hamilton Russell Pinot Noir just stinks of every horrible smell ever to adorn a South African wine – soot, ashtray, roadworks, burnt rubber, you name it. Underneath it tastes vaguely like pinot noir. And finally 2003 Pontodi Chianti Classico is a very fruity version. Heady maraschino cherry liqueur characters, with liquorice and strawberries. On the palate, some cherry blossom characters, a little smoky and great creamy length.
Anyway, Australia DOES produce superb wine, as a tasting of Yalumba’s top cuvees yesterday, proved.
The star for me was the 2000 Yalumba ‘Octavius’ Barossa Valley Shiraz (£45). The nose is dark, introspective, brooding: cool coffee grounds woven with caramel, chocolate, vanilla and pepper. It is the Shostakovich of wines, or perhaps the James Joyce of wines – many layered, complex, difficult to understand and hard to consume in all but small doses. The palate is dense as a black hole but maintains its elegance. There’s no doubt this is an extraordinarily powerful wine, but not in a jammy, over-baked, overtly fruity, flabby way. It’s just extremely amplified. It's all muscle and no fat. Perhaps a good match for venison or kangaroo.
The 2002 Octavius is similar in style and structure, but a little too young for drinking now (the 2000 is developing nicely but still has many years ahead of it). The nose shows wood smoke, plum jam and perfumed violets. The palate, again massive, is still fresh and youthful with clean acid and tannins pronounced enough to maintain good structure. It’s hard to believe the Octavius is matured in American oak, let alone in such tiny vessels as the tiny 90-litre new ‘Octaves’ that are used, as the oak treatment is subtle. It lends a spicy hint to the wine – but not at all the dusty, woodchippy, bitter hiding that American oak so often gives to a wine.
Just to compare what the old world does with shiraz, we tried a 1996 Chapoutier Cote Rotie against the two Octaviuses (Octavii?). Here we move from Joyce to John Steinbeck. This wine has a fuck-off savoury nose, with celery salt, leather, pepper, bacon, dry meat. It is as if water has never deigned to fall on the land these vines were planted on. The thin palate has very developed dry cherry and leather-bound library book characters. It may have been open a little long – to my palate it was getting thin and tired, but still showed a remarkable contrast to the oily, voluptuous Australian versions.
The 2002 Yalumba ‘Menzies’ Coonawarra Cabernet Sauvignon (£23) is Yalumba’s top cabernet. At the moment it is far too young to drink but will get there, I think. The nose is laden with fresh green capsicum, cedar bark, menthol oil and, as my flatmate Andy’s friend put it – Silvo. The palate is very tight. After breathing for several hours it is more recognisably cabernet like, with blackcurrant and cedar characters. But frankly, everything is just a little too primary and aggressive at the moment. It had been said that the winemakers had made a decision to modernise this wine in recent years, making it less tannic and green. Having no basis for comparison, I don't know whether this has worked or not. To me, it was still a very tight, green wine. But in a good five years it may well be a different wine altogether.
Then a few odds and ends to finish off the afternoon. 2004 Hamilton Russell Pinot Noir just stinks of every horrible smell ever to adorn a South African wine – soot, ashtray, roadworks, burnt rubber, you name it. Underneath it tastes vaguely like pinot noir. And finally 2003 Pontodi Chianti Classico is a very fruity version. Heady maraschino cherry liqueur characters, with liquorice and strawberries. On the palate, some cherry blossom characters, a little smoky and great creamy length.
Saturday, 5 May 2007
Sarah Chang and two New Zealand Pinots
Last night I saw Sarah Chang perform Shostakovich’s Violin Concerto No 1 with the BBC Symphony Orchestra. It was without doubt the most amazing concerto performance I have ever seen by any performer on any instrument. Jaws dropped into laps across the hall at the sight of Ms Chang whipping out the cadenza at the end of the third movement with more speed, force, texture and energy than I thought humanly possible, let alone ever expected to witness live. The poor girl sitting next to me actually covered her eyes and mouth at one point, presumably out of fear that the soloist was going to explode, or at least accidentally release her bow into the eye of an unsuspecting audience member. (She wasn’t too far off – Chang had broken so many of the hairs on her bow in her thrashing of the cadenza that in the brief orchestral tutti at the beginning of the fourth movement she jettisoned her bow altogether and commandeered that of the first violinist to complete the concerto!)
Anyway, it was a jolly good thing that I had had a few settling glasses of wine to anaesthetise me beforehand – I’m just not sure I could have withstood such exposure totally sober.
Tilley’s ‘Interesting Wine of the Week’ award goes to the 2006 Plozner Venezia Giulia Sauvignon Blanc from Italy. Gooseberries and mangoes on the nose. Limey palate, with hints of apricot and an agreeable oiliness finishing with racy acidity. Refreshing and interesting. And it comes in a bottle with a glass closure. Genius or gimmick? You be the judge.
Then a pair of New Zealand pinot noirs. 2005 Thornbury Central Otago Pinot Noir is translucent even red-purple in colour. Closed nose, slightly cedary and stalky. Red-fruit palate, very fresh and linear, but well balanced. At £9 odd it is remarkable value, especially as I had tasted it blind and thought it from Burgundy. 2005 Cable Bay Marlborough Pinot Noir is mid red. The nose is a mix of pepper, capsicum, cherries, stalks, caramel and hint of cherry sherbet. Palate shows strawberry and barn yard characters. On balance, I like it a little more than the Thornbury, but at about £14 it is less good value. My colleagues thought the Thornbury outshone the Cable Bay on both quality and price, but there really isn’t much between them.
Anyway, it was a jolly good thing that I had had a few settling glasses of wine to anaesthetise me beforehand – I’m just not sure I could have withstood such exposure totally sober.
Tilley’s ‘Interesting Wine of the Week’ award goes to the 2006 Plozner Venezia Giulia Sauvignon Blanc from Italy. Gooseberries and mangoes on the nose. Limey palate, with hints of apricot and an agreeable oiliness finishing with racy acidity. Refreshing and interesting. And it comes in a bottle with a glass closure. Genius or gimmick? You be the judge.
Then a pair of New Zealand pinot noirs. 2005 Thornbury Central Otago Pinot Noir is translucent even red-purple in colour. Closed nose, slightly cedary and stalky. Red-fruit palate, very fresh and linear, but well balanced. At £9 odd it is remarkable value, especially as I had tasted it blind and thought it from Burgundy. 2005 Cable Bay Marlborough Pinot Noir is mid red. The nose is a mix of pepper, capsicum, cherries, stalks, caramel and hint of cherry sherbet. Palate shows strawberry and barn yard characters. On balance, I like it a little more than the Thornbury, but at about £14 it is less good value. My colleagues thought the Thornbury outshone the Cable Bay on both quality and price, but there really isn’t much between them.
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