Think ‘Chile’ and what is the first thing that springs to mind? Legendary pianist Claudio Arrau? Legendary poet Pablo Neruda? Legendary génocidaire Augusto Pinochet? Well, no longer! Step forward a new great Chilean – legendary red grape Carmenère!
As is now well known, Carmenère is an obscure Bordeaux grape that was exported to Chile and thought for a long, long time to be Merlot. Lo, the ampelographers came forth and, in a style not unlike a Scooby-Doo cartoon in which that nice little-old lady’s mask is ripped off to reveal a bandit underneath, showed that the vine’s DNA matched Carmenère, not Merlot.
Well, now it is a regional speciality. ‘Regional speciality’ is one of these terms that to sceptics (myself included) often carries an implication of ‘So you’re a country that can’t grow decent cabernet sauvignon? Here – try this grape that nobody else wants and you might be able to market yourself on novelty value.’ (Don’t believe me? Well, go and try a South African Cinsaut or an Algerian Carignan and tell me I’m wrong). But Carmenère is not at a regional speciality in that sense. It’s more a regional speciality in the sense of ‘you wish you could grow your own grape this well, France’ accompanied by a two-finger salute – Like Hunter Valley Semillon, or certain Marlborough Sauvignons.
Anyway, I tried an absolutely superb Carmenere the other night at a restaurant in Surry Hills called Bodega (which I recommend in its own right. Its wine list contains only wines from Spain and South America. Hurrah! Sydney has waited too long for a restaurant that doesn’t treat foreign wines as novelties. I’m all for low food-miles and ‘showcasing’ domestic wines, but really, how many McLaren Vale shirazes can I drink in 6 weeks?) The wine is Perez Cruz Reserva Limited Release Carmenère (Maipo Valley). Ripe, freshly cut red capsicum on the nose, with leather, leaves, ink, woodsmoke and coal. The palate is an exercise in elegance (especially for a wine of 14.5% alcohol, which I simply don’t believe, as the alcohol is not obvious): soft plummy fruit, blackcurrant, almost imperceptible acid and fine tannins. An absolute triumph.
While I’m at it I will mention the Cardenal Cisneros Pedro Ximenez Sherry that I ordered for afters, if only to show my old flatmate and his new flatmate (with whom I was dining) that Sherry can be fantastic. The old flatmate’s new flatmate (let’s call him Darren, since that is his name) is a chef and came out with this – cinnamon, orange zest, raisin, treacle, coffee; and I agree. The palate is rich and sweet with a distinctive coffee-bean finish.
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1 comment:
Your opening about Chile made me laugh aloud!
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