Olssens Bass Hill Vineyard Carmenère 2006

I had a run through my backlog of bottles, that is things I’ve drunk but haven’t written up, and I have quite a few wines from Australia, France and Canada to sort.  So in an effort to clear the queue, this week will be exclusively wines of Australia, and next week I’ll tackle the French.  I’ll start with this Olssens Bass Hill Vineyard Carmenère 2006.

I wrote a bit about Carmenère with the Viña Casa Silva Microterroir back in July, but now that I have my copy of Wine Grapes I think it’s worthwhile to dig out a new fact for each variety even if I’ve covered the grape before.  The book makes excellent use of pedigree charts for grapes, and the Cabernet Sauvignon chart is a case in point.  For Carmenère it shows that one parent is Cabernet Franc, and the other is Gros Cabernet, a grape which is no longer cultivated.  What makes that interesting is that Cabernet Franc is a grandparent of Gros Cabernet, meaning that Carmenère has Cabernet Franc as a parent and as a great-grandparent.  Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot also have Cabernet Franc as a parent, which goes some way to explaining how the varieties can be confused with one another.

This is a wine of the Clare Valley, which I described when I wrote up the a Pikes Riesling back in February.  While I certainly like the wines of Clare, it’s that bit further out from Adelaide such that I don’t get to visit very often and as a result I expect I’m missing out on some interesting wines.  There are plantings of Barbera and Zibibbo which would advance my quest for a century of varietal wines, to say nothing of the Assyrtiko vines that Jim Barry put in a couple of years ago.

Olssens of Watervale has some interesting plantings, though some of them are more to do with trying something old than trying something new.  Founded by Kevin and Helen Olssen in 1986, it is one of very few wineries to produce a red Bordeaux style blend out of the six originally permitted grapes, Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Cabernet Franc, Petit Verdot, Malbec and Carmenère.  Other wines produced include Riesling, Semillon, and Shiraz, as well as red blends.  This bottling of the 2006 vintage is quite possibly the first commercial release of a varietal Australian Carmenère, though there are now at least a half dozen producers with plantings.  Unfortunately it’s not clear if there will be another Carmenère from Olssens or indeed any other wines.  At present, the Watervale property is listed for sale, and while I’m tempted, I don’t think I’m quite ready to make the move.

In the glass, this wine is dark ruby, with the most narrow of rims and quick dark legs.  On the nose it’s clean and developing, with medium intensity and notes of blueberries, chocolate, cherries, and a slight hint of raisins.  On the palate it’s dry, with medium plus acidity, medium grippy tannins, medium body, medium alcohol, medium plus intensity, and notes very similar to the noses – blueberries, chocolate, and cherries, with some coffee and a touch of prunes.  It has a mocha finish and a medium plus length.

This is a solid good, in fact almost a very good.  It lets me down slightly in terms of complexity, in that the nose tells you the whole story, and I would have expected the development over six years to have given more than just a bit of chocolate and coffee.  But that said, there’s nothing out of place, and it has good varietal typicity as far as the cherries and chocolate go.  I attribute the blueberries to the cooler climate of Clare.

Kabminye Eden Valley Kerner 2010

I’m trying to taste 100 varietal wines from different grape varieties, and it’s been slow going of late.  (This brings me to 71.)  I’m trying to keep the homepage somewhat diverse and not overloaded with too many wines from a single country, and so new varietals have had to wait their turn.  However, today it’s time for another Australian wine, another new varietal at that, the Kabminye Eden Valley Kerner 2010.

Kerner is a grape which is often grouped with other varieties of similar origin, collectively called German crossings.  A cross is a grape that is the result of breeding two other varieties, usually different types of vitis vinifera.  (Not to be confused with hybrids which are generally the result of crossing a variety of vitis vinifera with some other vitis species.)  While strictly speaking, every variety of vitis vinifera is a cross, the term generally applies to varieties where the parentage is known, and typically where the crossing was by design.

The term German crossings refers to a group of varieties that have emerged from vine breeding programs at German viticultural research centres, with the two most famous being Geisenheim and Geilweilerhof in the Rheingau and Pfalz regions respectively.  Geisenheim was founded in 1872 and within a decade had produced Müller-Thurgau which at one point was the most widely planted grape in Germany.  Geilweilerhof, now part of the Julius Kühn-Institut, was founded in 1926 and produced the Bacchus crossing in 1933, using Müller-Thurgau as one of the parents.  While the rate of development of new crosses peaked in the first half of the 20th century, their research continues to this day.

Kerner isn’t from either of those centres, rather another research centre in Lauffen, roughly 80km east of Geilweilerhof in what is now the state of Baden-Württemberg.  First developed by August Herold in 1929, it is a cross of the red grape Trollinger and Riesling.  Named after a poet and composer with an affinity for wine, it wasn’t commercially released as a variety until 1969.  It quickly made inroads to become the third most planted white grape in 2003, though it has fallen in the league tables since then.

Its success as a variety is down to a number of factors.  It is popular in Germany as a wine because it has a similar flavour profile to Riesling as well as high acidity and the ability to age.  As important though, it is successful as a vine because it buds late, making it resistant to frost.  It also ripens more reliably than Riesling, meaning it can be planted in a wider variety of vineyards as opposed to just those with ideal aspects for collecting sunshine.  In addition it has higher yields than Riesling, though with high vigour it requires more pruning in the growing season.

Kabminye Wines is a small producer in the hamlet of Krondorf, right next door to Charles Melton and a few doors down from Rockford.  The name means Morning Star in an Aboriginal language, and was apparently the name given to the hamlet from 1917 due to anti-German sentiment related to the Great War, though reverted in 1975.  The label was founded in 2001 by Rick and Ingrid Glastonbury and produces only very small quantities of a number of wines.  In whites they have Semillon, White Frontignac (Muscat) , and this Kerner, though they also make a fortified from their Muscat and a Mistell from Kerner.  In reds they have two versions of the obligatory Shiraz (they are in Barossa), but also some interesting blends including Grenache and Carignan, Mataro, Carignan, Cinsault and Black Frontignac, as well as Durif, Carignan and Shiraz.

While Kabminye is based in the Barossa, this is a wine of the neighbouring Eden Valley.  Higher and cooler than Barossa, it’s also home to many Shiraz plantings but is better known for its white grapes, particularly Chardonnay and Riesling.  For a more complete write up, I described the region when I covered the Yalumba Virgilius Viognier.

In the glass this wine is clear and bright, with pale lemon green colour and quick legs.  On the nose it’s clean and developing with medium intensity and notes of pear, lemon, and petrol.  On the palate it’s dry, with high acidity, medium body, medium minus alcohol, medium plus intensity, and medium length.  There are notes of petrol, quince, lime, green apple, pear, and a hint of grapefruit.

This is a good wine.  It’s very tart, but the tartness seems to come from a number of different sources, all fruit, but a great array of different fruits.  So there’s tart green apple, tart lime, and tart grapefruit, all very distinct.  It’s not far off Riesling but I’m not sure it has the same level of complexity I would want from a good Riesling.  That said, it is certainly a pleasant drink and a nice introduction to a new variety.

Old Mill Estate Touriga Nacional 2007

I’m inching my way toward a century of varietal wines, and this puts me at 70/100.  I’ve actually hit 90 different grapes in total, but there are some grapes, Pinot Meunier for instance, which are only rarely found outside of a blend.  (Great Western apparently does a good one.) Today’s wine is another example of a variety that’s very easy to find in a blend, but much less common on its own, the Old Mill Estate Touriga Nacional 2007.

Like most people, I first encountered Touriga Nacional when learning about fortified wines.  It’s a black grape, thought to be native to the Dão region of Portugal, and widely considered the best of the five main grapes allowed in Port.  While it is typically the first grape mentioned with regard to Port production, what’s slightly less well known is that within the Douro Valley it represents a tiny fraction of plantings, possibly as low as 2%.  Many vineyards are field blends with different varieties intermingled, so it’s often difficult to know exactly.

It is highly regarded for the rich colour and intense concentration it brings to blends as well as structure through its high levels of tannins.  However, despite being a vigorous vine, it is traditionally prone to low yields due to poor fruit set, which may be why it is not the most popular variety in the vineyard.  Clonal selection improvements had mitigated the low yields to some extent, and the grape has been making inroads into other wine regions within Portugal as well as Australia.  While best known as a component of fortified wine, there is a growing trend for it to be made into table wine.

This is the second post in this blog concerning a wine from Langhorne Creek, the first having been the Rusticana Zinfandel back in April, which has some detail on the region.

Old Mill Estate, as shown by the sheaf on the label, actually does have its origins in grain production.  The property was initially a mill, making chaff out of lucerne.  (That’s alfalfa to Americans – I had to look it up.)  In 1992 the second highest recorded flood in the area destroyed the entire crop, prompting the owners, Peter and Vicki Widdop, to diversify by planting vines the following year.  They initially started just as grape growers, but produced their own vintage in 2004.  In 2006 they brought in John Glaetzer, something of an Australian legend, as a consultant winemaker.

I’m not sure if they still grow lucerne, but their grape plantings consist of Cabernet Sauvignon, Shiraz and Touriga Nacional.  Their wines include still, red varietals of each and a couple of blends, as well as a rosé and a sparkling wine both made from Touriga Nacional.

This wine is clear and bright in the glass, with a deep purple colour and quick stained legs.  On the nose it’s clean, intense, and developing, with notes of raisins, plums, and sweet spice.  It’s a very rich nose with ripe fruit.  On the palate it’s dry, though heavily fruit sweet, with a medium plus body, medium plus intensity, medium alcohol, medium minus fine tannins, medium acidity, and medium plus length. There are notes of plum, sweet spice, black cherries, blackberries, and raisins.

This is a good wine – intensely fragrant, with great concentration and fruit flavours, though the acidity struggles to maintain balance.  It’s very full and rich, almost too much so.  I was told a story by a colleague about how he was so impressed when he first tasted Touriga Nacional as a table wine that he asked the winemaker why it wasn’t more popular.  The reply was along the lines of “try to drink a bottle”.  I feel similarly with this wine – it does have a fantastic impact but it’s somewhat overwhelming after a glass or two.  Still, I’d rather be overwhelmed than underwhelmed.

AP Birks Wendouree Cellars Shiraz Malbec 2006

As I’ve returned to Australia, I really need to get back in the swing of things, and today that means a local hero.  This wine is more than a little bit special, and not just because it’s an interesting blend.  If you don’t live in Australia, it could be one of the best producers you’ve never heard of.  I give you the AP Birks Wendouree Cellars Shiraz Malbec 2006.

When I arrived in Australia I quickly became acquainted with the names and labels of the top producers, and managed to visit the cellar doors of some of them, particularly in South Australia.  I came across Wendouree as a name well represented on the Langton’s Classification and on auction sites, but as they have no website or cellar door I couldn’t find out a great deal.

As it turns out, they were to be my first encounter with a mailing list winery, which is just what you would think – a producer who sells wine (almost?) exclusively to a set list of customers through the post.  It’s quite an enviable situation, where customers are essentially beating a path to your door, and you might think that would make the wines impossible to source.

For better or worse, that’s not so much the case.  While some customers on the list buy their allotted bottles and cellar them away, the fact that demand outstrips supply tempts others to sell theirs, often through auction sites.  One way or another they turn up in some of the nicer bottle shops and every now and again on a wine list.  The “better” part of that is that people who aren’t on the list are able to enjoy the wines, but “worse” is that the prices the wines can command on the secondary market can be multiples of the prices charged by Wendouree.  So almost any time such a bottle finds its way into the hands of someone not on the mailing list, there’s someone other than the producer pocketing a hefty markup.  While I’ve been fortunate enough to buy some wines direct, I’ve also purchased some second hand.  The money I paid was not unreasonable for the wine in question, but it was disappointing knowing so little of it went to the producer.

The term “cult” is often associated with fans of Wendouree, by the likes of Oz Clark, Jamie Goode, and even Langton’s.  Being a fan, I have an obvious bias, but I don’t think it’s apt for two reasons.  First, I associate cults with a disconnection from logic, where people who are part of them believe themselves to have some insight that those outside do not.  While not everyone is a fan of Wendouree for whatever reason, I know of few detractors when it comes to the wines themselves.  Second, people who join cults typically have to give up all their money, but the wines of Wendouree are not overly expensive for their quality, particularly if you are on the mailing list.

If you want the classic cult wine, you need look no further than the archetype, Screaming Eagle, which has no end of detractors (based on the hype, obviously not on the wine as so few have ever tried it) and is completely unaffordable on top of being largely unavailable.  The disconnect from reality is evident in that they think of themselves as “a grand cru – a Napa first growth.”  A tragic case drinking too much of their own Kool-Aid.  Jancis Robinson recently tweeted, “Must say I find French wine names outside France really silly.”  I think that goes double for French wine classifications.

So what makes Wendouree so special?  The winery is a hundred years old, and some of the grapes are off vines planted as far back as 1892.  Even with their younger vines, yields are kept very low, and the winery produces only about 1800 cases per year.  Everything is harvested by hand, often across multiple passes.  The winery itself makes use of open top fermenters, carefully controlled malolactic fermentation in tank, and a mix of new and used French oak.  Wines are made for ageing – a few years back they released a 1991 varietal Malbec in magnums some 18 years after vintage (and yes, I managed to bag one).  As I write this, there is a 1975 Wendouree Cabernet Malbec Shiraz up for auction with Langtons which I would love to try.

If there’s one aspect, beyond the mailing list, that might make people want to put Wendouree in the category of a cult wine, it’s the somewhat shy nature of the people behind it.  Tony and Lita Brady have owned the property since 1974, but their focus has been on the vines and wines.  As far as I can tell, they do no promotion, they enter their wines in no shows, and they do not comment publicly about their wines.  Only rarely do wine writers grace their office, and then the focus seems as much on technique for producing the best cup of coffee as bottle of wine.  There are no tasting notes, and in the case of this bottle, no back label.  (In fact this bottle doesn’t even have an ABV printed – is that legal?  I wasn’t looking closely enough – the ABV is there in very, very fine print.)  Their wines speak for themselves, and in a world that knows no end of self-promotion, I find that refreshing.  More a cloister than a cult.

I hope I can be forgiven for not having much more to say about the Clare Valley, having been there as recently as July with the ArtWine Graciano.  As to these grapes, they are well known to this blog both as varietals and as components in blends, but this is the first time we’ve seen them together.  In France, no region springs to mind as being known for growing both, though as some Syrah used to make its way into Bordeaux blends from time to time (pre-AC regulations), they’ve certainly been found in the same bottle before.  I’m somewhat surprised I haven’t yet come across Syrah Malbec blends in South America because there are a few producers blending them there as well.

As to this wine, in the glass it is clear and bright, dark ruby colour, just starting to edge toward brick red, with quick coloured legs.  On the nose I get sweet spice, roses, perfume, blackberries, and caramelized meat that’s just about to be charred.  It’s developing and intense.  On the palate it’s dry with medium plus acidity, medium body, medium plus alcohol, medium plus intensity, medium plus fine tannins, and a long finish.  There are notes of red meat on the palate, black pepper, liquorice, blackberries, and a little charcoal.

This wine is exceptional.  It’s rich, intense, and complex.  I’m almost certainly enjoying it too young, and at the expense of further development over the next few years.

As I mentioned, there’s no link to the producer’s website because there isn’t one, and there is no cellar door so don’t go knocking on doors near the pin in the map on Wendouree Road without an invitation.

Rockford Rod & Spur Barossa Valley Cabernet Shiraz 2006

When I arrived in Australia over five years ago, I knew little about wine.  South Australia in particular is a good place to learn, though there are some pitfalls to avoid when it comes to studying wine in an area in which it’s made.  For instance, local knowledge of wines of the area can be both broad and deep, but insufficient if you want to explore wines of other areas.  So as I mentioned last week, many Australians claim sparkling red wine as a homegrown innovation, overlooking Lambrusco.  Some have made similar assertions which are worth exploring as to the blend of grapes in today’s wine, the Rockford Rod & Spur Barossa Valley Cabernet Shiraz 2006.

Blending different grape varieties is practised throughout most places in which wine is made.  The best known area for blending could be said to be Bordeaux, where their red, white and sweet wines are typically blends of at least two grapes each.  Blending is likewise common in much (but not all) of the Rhône Valley, with Châteauneuf-du-Pape being a stand out with over a dozen permitted grapes.  Even in Burgundy, best known for varietal wines, there are less common blends such as the Passe-Tout-Grains.

There are a number of reasons winemakers might choose to make a blend, but the single biggest is to balance out the different characteristics of individual varieties, and commercial concerns can come into play as well.  Traditionally though, blending options were limited to grapes that were grown in reasonably close proximity, for reasons of climate or culture.  I believe that is why I have yet to see an Old World blend of Riesling and Palomino.  In many places, these traditional grapes and blends have become enshrined in regulations, such that if you were to put together such a blend, it would be outside of all but the lowest official designation of wine quality.

However, if you move to the New World, it’s an entirely different story.  While there are some grapes that have a resonance with certain areas, there are few if any restrictions as to what people can plant and blend.  This allows perhaps a greater degree of experimentation and innovation, but it also means that if a customer sees a bottle of red wine on a shelf that says Barossa on the label, they cannot make any assumptions as to the grapes that went into it.

So what does any of that have to do with this wine?  Cabernet Sauvignon of Bordeaux and Syrah (or Shiraz) of the Rhône are not historically grown near each other and as such are not found together in traditional blends.  Some would say that in France since the grapes take on the same role of providing tannins, structure and the ability to mature over decades, to combine them would be redundant.  Australia, however, embraced both varieties, often planting them in neighbouring areas and vineyards, and so was born what is claimed to be an innovative blend.  It’s even found its way back to France, where some vin de pays is made in the south in that style, notably by Barons de Rothschild (Lafite) with their Val De L’Ours Vin de Pays d’Oc.

However, is it really an original Australian blend?  Nearly, but not quite.  In the days before strict appellation regulations, winemakers in France had a bit more flexibility as to how they handled vintage variation.  Within Bordeaux, when the Cabernet components of their blends were not quite filling their role, it was not uncommon for Syrah wines to be imported and added to the cuvée.  This was apparently not unusual up through roughly a hundred years ago, though it has now been largely forgotten.  Largely, but not entirely, as evidenced by an experimental Château Palmer blend in 2004 that utilized Syrah from the Rhône blended with fruit from their Margaux estate, as well as by the continuing efforts of Alexandre Sirech who has replaced Cabernet Sauvignon with Syrah in a Merlot blend.

All that said, I think it actually is fair to describe Cabernet Sauvignon blended with Shiraz as Australian for three main reasons.  The grapes are grown in the same region, they’re blended together because when grown in Australia they have characteristics that can be complimentary and not redundant, and the blend consists of just those two varieties as opposed to potentially including the other Bordeaux reds.  Australia must also be given credit for promoting the two grapes together as a blend, as opposed relying on it as a contingency.

Having spent so many words talking about this blend, it’s a good thing that Cabernet Sauvignon, Shiraz and the Barossa Valley are already well known to this blog and we can move on to Rockford, which certainly deserves some attention.

I think Rockford is best described as an institution in South Australia.  In 1971 Robert O’Callaghan purchased a set of old stone buildings dating back to the 1850s which would become the heart of Rockford.  A winery was built on the location in much the same style, with a rustic feel to the entire property.  His family background was in grape growing, and he trained as a winemaker with Seppelt in Rutherglen before setting out on his own.  While many Barossa producers have a great deal of history and tradition in the region, Rockford is somewhat unique in that also espouses traditional tools of the trade, including the basket press which gives its name to their flagship Shiraz which is among the most sought-after in Australia according to Langton’s Classification.  It’s almost The Woodwright’s Shop approach to winemaking.

While certainly best known for their Basket Press, the wine of theirs that I most commonly encounter is the Alicante Bouchet, a rosé that’s found on a vast number of wine lists in South Australia, despite being made from a grape that is not highly regarded anywhere else in the world.  That may be a reflection of the nature of the company in general, in that it is so greatly appreciated within Australia, South Australia especially, that its limited production is not widely exported and unlike many of the names at the top of the Langton’s Classification, it is not so well known abroad.

Rockford also produces varietal wines of Cabernet Sauvignon, Semillon, and Frontignac, as well as a Grenache / Mataro  / Shiraz blend and a fortified wine.  This wine, a 63% Cabernet Sauvignon and 37% Shiraz blend is somewhere in the middle of the Rockford range, and is named for the pruning method used by their growers.

In the glass, it is clear and bright, with a dark, brick red colour (I know, garnet is the preferred term), and slow thick legs when swirled.  On the nose it’s clean and developing with medium plus intensity and notes of sweet spice, dried red fruit (currants, raspberries, cherries), black pepper, and a little liquorice.  On the palate it’s dry, with medium acidity, medium fine tannins, medium plus intensity, medium plus alcohol, and medium body.  It has notes of liquorice, green peppercorn, red currant, raspberries, and some pencil lead.  It has a medium length with a sour, black cherry finish.

I’ll give this a good rating.  There is a fruit sweetness I associate with Shiraz and Grenache, but there’s also the astringency that I often get from Cabernets Sauvignon and Franc.  There’s not a huge amount of development for a seven year old wine, and still a generous amount of fruit, so this wine will almost certainly improve with additional time in the cellar.

Tscharke Wines Girl Talk Savagnin 2011

Yesterday’s wine was a lovely Castro Martin Albariño and up until recently today’s wine could have been held up as a New World counterpoint.  But just as the availability of DNA testing has upset many families with revelations of misattributed parentage, so too has it brought clarity, at times unwelcome, to the identity of grape varieties.  And with that somewhat dubious introduction, I bring you Tscharke Wines Girl Talk Savagnin 2011.

When I wrote about Albariño yesterday, I failed to mention how well regarded it is.  It’s considered the best white variety of Spain, and had a surge in popularity over the last two decades.  In that time, it has attracted the attention of not just consumers but also of vignerons and winemakers in the New World anxious to see how the variety would perform in their terroirs.  As such, plantings found their way to California, Oregon, New Zealand and Australia.

Or so it was thought.  Jean-Michel Boursiquot of the University of Montpellier, who we first encountered when I wrote about a Chilean Carmenère, visited Australia and suggested that what was being called Albariño was in fact Savagnin Blanc.  The issue was taken up by government researchers at the Commonwealth Scientific and Industrial Research Organisation (CSIRO), which was originally responsible for bringing the variety from Spain.  Known Albariño samples were imported, comparisons were made, and in 2009 Boursiquot was pronounced correct.  From that vintage onwards, any wines produced from what had been thought to be Albariño needed to be labeled Savagnin (Blanc) or Traminer.  Needless to say, there was a huge uproar.

First, Savagnin Blanc / Traminer.  Savagnin Blanc is a grape closely associated with Jura, France, where it is most commonly made into vin jaune, an oxidative style wine that has similarities with the fortified wines of Jerez.  Traminer is a relative of Gewürztraminer, though without the aromatic qualities, and of diminishing popularity in cooler, continental areas of Europe.  Traminer also has a history in the Barossa Valley in South Australia, where it has been used to make sweet wines which have likewise waned in popularity.  In 2000 the French ampleographer Pierre Galet established that Savagnin Blanc and Traminer were in fact the same grape.

So back to 2009, and suddenly Australian producers are told that wines which had been successful as “Albariño” are now required to be labelled as either an unfamiliar French grape or as an unpopular Germanic grape.  Looking at press coverage and remarks from producers at the time, the entire Kübler-Ross model played out very rapidly.  Some producers did not believe the CSIRO’s findings, or if they did they wanted to find some accommodation in being able to continue to use the name Albariño.  There was widespread anger at the CSIRO for selling the vines as Albariño in the first place, and I’m sure no shortage of depression at the bad fortune.  However, as the label on this bottle attests, there was acceptance.

Also, it should be noted that subsequently the origin of the confusion was traced back to Spain, whence the vines were supplied, not a mix-up on the part of the CSIRO which was responsible for importing the material and then distributing it to nurseries and growers.

It was something of a tragedy for two reasons.  First off, the people who were hurt, the producers, were not the ones at fault.  They were sold vines as Albariño, and in particular in the case of Tscharke they found the vines had the ampelographic characteristics they expected – conical clusters, multiple pips, the right number of bunches per shoot and the right berry size and colour.  While sales of “Albariño” were on the rise, selling Savagnin or Traminer was a completely different prospect.  Even in the unlikely event that consumers would seamlessly switch varieties, there were still associated costs of changing labels and all the accompanying materials.

It also brought Australian labelling into question with regard to varieties.  Australia has a very chequered history with the use of dubious place and grape names on labels, but had made great strides in recent years to conform to international standards.  Unlike some historic misrepresentations, this was not an attempt to ride on the coattails of a popular region or variety, but rather an honest mistake in trying to produce wines of the same grape locally.  Nonetheless, the damage was done.

However, three years on I optimistically like to think that the worst is behind “Albariño” producers.  Varietal Savagnins grace the shelves of bottle shops, and while I don’t have sales figures, I hope that consumers still enjoy the wine even if the name on the label has changed.  While misidentifications of grape varieties can cause confusion and grief, they are a fact of life.  Improvements in genetics based ampelography will continue, and I personally am expecting some surprises when Wine Grapes is published in October.

Tscharke Wines is based in Barossa Valley, and is the product of Damien Tscharke, who also runs Glaymond Wines.  While Glaymond is best known for classic grapes of Barossa, the Tscharke label was split off in 2004 to showcase alternative and emerging varieties, such as Montepulciano, Tempranillo, Touriga Nacional, Zinfandel, Graciano, and now Savagnin.  They even produce a Frizzante Savagnin under the name Eva.  They were the first, and in 2009 the largest, Australian producer of “Albariño” and were thus at the centre of the controversy at the time, and had doubled their production between 2008 and 2009 to some 4,000 cases.

As to this wine, in the glass it is clear and bright, with pale lemon green colour and a viscosity on the inside of the glass when swirled that can’t make up it’s mind if it’s a film or legs.  On the nose it’s clean with medium minus intensity, and notes of pear, custard, and a little bit of green vegetable.  On the palate it’s dry, with medium plus acidity, medium plus intensity, medium body, medium alcohol, and medium minus length.  There is apple zing, with both green apple acidity and a bit of red apple sweetness, as well as some lemon-lime and bitters, and a hint of waxiness on the finish.

This is a good wine.  The palate is a bit low on complexity, and the finish is slightly short, but it’s an interesting wine for those of us who like alternative varieties.  The fruitiness is attractive, and it certainly hits the numbers in terms of acidity and intensity on the palate.  I’m not an expert, but Albariño was not the first thing that jumped to mind when I sniffed it – I didn’t get any blossom which is my usual tell (though often wrong) for that variety.  Then again, if someone had told me that’s what it was, I don’t think I would have disputed it either.  I hope that Tscharke has put the mix-up behind it, and continues to pioneer alternative varieties in Australia.

By Jingo! Adelaide Hills Montepulciano 2008

I’ve been meaning to write about this producer since I tasted their wines at the Adelaide Cellar Door Festival back in February.  I kept putting it off though, because I know they have some interesting wines in the pipeline that might advance me in my quest to taste 100 varietals.  However, I swung by Hahndorf in the Adelaide Hills a couple of weeks ago where the winemaker had set up a tasting, and this wine subsequently turned up in my neighbourhood bottle ship, so I decided that covering it now is more important than waiting on their next releases.  And with that, I give you the By Jingo! Adelaide Hills Montepulciano 2008.

In terms of region and grape, we’ve been to the Adelaide Hills many times, and somewhat surprisingly this is not our first encounter with a Montepulciano – I tasted the Masciarelli Montepulciano d’Abruzzo back in December. Even more surprisingly I wrote a borderline halfway decent description of the grape back then.  But for review, it’s a red grape planted widely throughout Italy, producing wines that typically have deep colour and medium acidity, which are made without oak influence and meant to be consumed relatively young.  Also, it is not the grape used to make the wine Vino Nobile di Montepulciano – in that case the name refers to the town and the wine is based on Sangiovese.  I also should have mentioned back in December that it ripens fairly late and gives consistently generous yields.

As with nearly every grape variety I’ve ever described, someone has a patch of it somewhere in Australia, and By Jingo! is not the only such producer of Montepulciano.  Vinodiversity lists over a dozen wineries with plantings or wines made from it, largely in South Australia but with one in Victoria.  There are also plantings in New Zealand and California, though I think it’s fair to say they are all of very small scale and that the grape hasn’t yet really taken off outside of Italy.

By Jingo! is based in the Adelaide Hills, but I hadn’t heard of them until February, partly because they only celebrated their first year as a label this month, but also because they don’t as yet have a cellar door.  What I’ve learned about them since then is that they’re driven by a love of Italian varieties, with Montepulciano being their star variety.  The winemaker and vigneron, John Gilbert, got his start in wine by planting a small vineyard and taking a low level job with a producer in McLaren Vale.  He followed up with a winemaking degree, vintages at opposite ends of Italy in Alto Adige and Sicily, and work on other wine labels before this venture where he’s finally able to focus on Italian grapes in Australia.

In addition to this Montepulciano, By Jingo! has produced a Zinfandel and a Montepulciano / Zinfandel blend.  There is also mention of Nero d’Avola and Negroamaro on their website.  In addition, a Grillo has been produced but not yet released, which Gilbert apparently imported as a variety in 2001.  More conventionally, they also produce a Shiraz.

On top of that, they have a wine they call Mendoza, named for the Chardonnay clone used to produce it.  Not being a Chardonnay expert I can only relate that relative to the classic Dijon clones, Mendoza can have smaller berries with a greater skin to juice ratio at the expense of higher incidence of millerandage (hen and chicken) which is when you get very small berries mixed in a bunch of normal sized berries.  Both of of those factors can contribute to a richer style of Chardonnay.  By Jingo! describe theirs as having citrus and icing sugar characters.

I have a bit of a gripe with their naming choice.  The clone is named for the region in Argentina in which it is believed to have originated, and hence it’s an Australian wine with the name of a non-Australian wine region prominently printed across the front label, a practice once widespread throughout the industry here but now largely stamped out.  That said, they’re certainly not trying to pass off their wine as anything other than Australian Chardonnay, and most Australian consumers who know the region Mendoza will likely also have heard of the clone, so it’s perhaps only an issue if they export to South America.

Back to the wine at hand, in the glass, it is clear and bright, with a dark ruby colour and quick legs.  On the nose it’s clean and developing, with medium intensity and notes of red fruit – cherries and plums – sweet spice, some star anise, and a bit of potpourri.  On the palate it’s dry, with medium acidity, medium soft, mouth coating tannins, medium plus intensity, medium plus alcohol, medium body, and a medium minus length.  There are notes of cherries and plums, and a cocoa powder taste and texture.  The texture might be down to it not being filtered and me not properly decanting, though it is by no means unpleasant.

I don’t taste Montepulciano often, but I had a look back at what I wrote about the one I tasted in December and was pleased to see the tasting note was more similar than different.  I’m happy giving this wine a rating of very good.  The fruit is still fresh, even after three years in oak, but some developed notes are certainly coming through.  The time in oak I think is what sets it apart from how this grape is traditionally handled in Italy, and as such while it’s drinking nicely right now, I would expect it to cellar well for at least a few more years in contrast to the drink now style of Italian Montepulcianos.  I’m looking forward to seeing the rest of their range released, particularly varieties I have not yet tried.

Hahndorf Hill Winery Shiraz 2007

I have a backlog of almost 20 wines I’ve tasted but for which I haven’t written a post.  It’s a good problem to have, in that I’m not stuck writing about whatever is in my glass on a given night.  Instead I can decide to pick a new variety or region, or revisit something familiar.  Sometimes though, I just have to write about the wine I’ve most recently tasted, and tonight it’s the Hahndorf Hill Winery Shiraz 2007.

As both Shiraz and the Adelaide Hills are familiar topics in this blog, this post will focus more the producer.  First though, I must disclose that I’ve had the pleasure of meeting the owners on several occasions and they’ve been supportive of my efforts here.  That said, If I can avoid it, I don’t bother writing about a wine I didn’t enjoy, and if I didn’t like this one I’d be writing about something else.

But before I get to that, first a word about Hahndorf.  It’s a somewhat touristy town about 25km southeast of Adelaide in the Hills, and it draws in a fair number of visitors by making the most of its Prussian roots.  German themed shops and restaurants dot its main street, though there are plenty of cellar doors and cafes that would be at home in any town in the Hills.

Hahndorf Hill Winery has been run by Larry Jacobs and Marc Dobson since they purchased the property in 2002.  They arrived in Australia in 1997 from South Africa, where Jacobs had been an intensive care doctor before founding Mulderbosch Vineyards in Stellenbosch, and Dobson had been a journalist.  I first visited their cellar door in 2006 on my first trip to Australia and can still remember being greeted by a very friendly dog or two as I drove up.

On a subsequent visit, as I was learning a bit more about wine, I was struck by some unfamiliar grapes in their range.  In addition to the ubiquitous Shiraz, Chardonnay and Sauvignon Blanc, as well as the increasingly popular Pinot Grigio, were Blaufränkisch (Lemberger) and Trollinger.  While popular in Austria and Germany, and therefore fitting in some ways with the proximity to Hahndorf, they were at one point the only plantings of either grape in Australia.

Apparently those vines came with the property, but Jacobs and Dobson turned Blaufränkisch, and the Austrian angle, into a distinct selling point, such that if anyone in Australia had heard of the grape, it was through their promotion.  I spoke a bit about the Austria – Australia cross pollination when I reviewed Mac Forbes, and Salomon Undhof / Salomon Estate produces wine in both countries, but Hahndorf Hill Winery went that bit further.  In 2006 they imported three Grüner Veltliner clones from Austria, paving the way for a dozen other producers, including K1.

Another facet of Hahndorf Hill Winery worth mentioning is their ChocoVino Experience.  Chocolate and wine pairings are very trendy at the moment, with the notion of terroir being broadly appropriated by single origin chocolates.  At their cellar door, they’ve put together a selection of amazing chocolates to taste with wines.  While I certainly don’t mind chocolates, I generally enjoy them more without wine, but fortunately they offer a chocolate only tasting experience as well.

Long time readers will not be surprised that I was favourably inclined toward Jacobs and Dobson from the moment I realized they were from South Africa, because I never get to talk about South African wine with Australians.  The fact that they’ve not only promoted alternative varieties in Australia but also imported Grüner Veltliner clones makes me an absolute fan.  If that wasn’t enough, they’re apparently working with Zweigelt, another red Austrian grape, with a rosé expected later this year.  However, not having any of their exotic varietals close at hand, and it being red season down here, I’m tasting their Shiraz.

This wine is clear and bright in the glass, with a dark brick red colour that only shows at the rim and in some colouring of the quick legs.  On the nose it’s clean and developing with medium intensity.  There are notes of red berries, brambles, sweet spice and a bit of liquorice.  On the palate it’s dry with medium plus intensity, medium plus acidity, medium body, medium fine tannins, medium plus alcohol, and a medium length.  I could taste black pepper, liquorice, blackberry, and red meat from the grill with a bit of char.

This is a very good wine.  It is undeniably a Shiraz but in a very cool climate style, with some black fruit but at this point more of the developed characters that can be so delicious.  This is a perfect wine to go with a nice slab of beef that’s been on the barbecue for long enough to have some serious carbon around the edges.  It’s not a big fruit bomb, and given that it’s drinking so well with secondary characters as a five year old wine, I probably wouldn’t put this down to age for more than another few years.  Some red wine producers pride themselves on the years or decades that are required to properly appreciate their work, but for this wine I think it has just the right balance of remaining fruit and developed characteristics that you won’t regret having it right now or soon.

Charles Melton Grains of Paradise Shiraz 2006

I do try to mix things up in terms of what I drink, both as far as grapes and regions.  However, in doing so I sometimes leave gaping holes in coverage.  So while I’ve profiled an Aglianico and a Torrontés from Argentina, I haven’t written about a Mendoza Malbec.  Similarly, while I’ve written about five wines from the Barossa Valley, I haven’t covered a straight Shiraz.  Rather than let that oversight stand, I give you this Charles Melton Grains of Paradise Shiraz 2006.

So why have I shied away from Barossa Shiraz?  No good reason at all.  In fact, it was my favourite region when I arrived in Australia five years ago, and when asked my favourite wine these days I would reply RWT, a great Barossa Shiraz from Penfolds, created by John Duval (who now makes great wine on his own and as a consultant).  However, as I’ve learned more about wine it’s been increasingly difficult to hold onto a single favourite, and I’m much more inclined to think in terms of the situation, what I’m eating and the people with whom I’ll be sharing the bottle.  Also, when given a choice between a favourite and something I haven’t tried before, I will always go with the novel choice.  So as a result, I don’t drink as much Barossa Shiraz as I did five years ago.  And no, it’s not (just) because I’ve become an Adelaide Hills Pinot Noir snob.

Since I’ve written about both the Barossa Valley and Shiraz before, it’s worth digging deeper specifically into Barossa Shiraz.  While Barossa was initially planted in the mid 19th century with Riesling by the largely Germanic settlers, the warm climate was not particularly good for that grape.  More success was eventually found with Shiraz (also known locally at one time as Hermitage) and Grenache, both of which were used in fortified wine production.  Demand for fortified wines started to decline in the 1950s and Shiraz likewise fell out of fashion as table wine production of other varieties, particularly Cabernet Sauvignon, shifted to Coonawarra.  Over the decades that followed, some vines were pulled, and the wines made from those that remained were not typically bottled with any geographical or varietal indicators.

Fortunately, not all of those vines were pulled.  Fashion turned Barossa’s way again in the late 20th century, with a resurgence in interest in Rhône varieties and the emergence of fine wine production in Australia.  Barossa, home to some of the oldest Shiraz vines in the world, was uniquely positioned to take advantage of this shift.  Small, boutique wineries such as Charles Melton were among the first to make good use of old bush vines, typically dry grown and very low yielding.  Fast forward to the present and Barossa Shiraz is the most widely recognized wine of Australia, produced in small batches by artisan winemakers and in industrial quantities by multinationals, at all levels of quality.

Charles Melton is at the boutique / high quality ends of the scales.  The eponymous founder, originally named Graeme but dubbed Charlie by Peter Lehmann, a cornerstone of the Barossa wine industry, established the label in 1984 after ten years of working for Lehmann and exploring the wines of the Rhône on trips to France.  Contrary to trends at the time, he produced his first wines from old vines when while a vine pull scheme was in progress and farmers were replacing their hundred year old Shiraz and Grenache plantings with more fashionable varieties.  He managed to partner with a number of farmed who also bucked the trend, and now has access to fruit from a handful of neighbouring vineyards as well as his own 50 acres.

In addition to this Shiraz, he has the Voices of Angels, and two others named after their respective vineyards, the Kirche and the Father-in-Law.  He has two Grenache based wines, the Richelieu and the Nine Popes, as well as a varietal Cabernet Sauvignon, a rosé named for his wife Virginia, and a shockingly deep pink sparkler called Brut Peche.  He also makes a dessert wine in the style of Vin Santo called Sotto Di Ferro.

While some of Charles Melton’s wines exhibit a strongly Rhône influenced style, this Grains of Paradise is meant to be a classic Barossa Shiraz, with significant colour and flavour extraction.  After fermentation it sees two years in barrel, 50% new, with the oak being roughly 60% French and 40% American.

In the glass, this wine is clear and bright, with a dark purple colour (even at six years old!), and quick coloured legs.  On the nose it’s clean with medium plus intensity, a developing character and scents of plums, perfume, sweet spice, raspberries, and potpourri.  On the palate it’s dry with medium plus acidity, high intensity, medium plus body, medium fine tannins, and medium plus alcohol.  There are notes of sweet spice, red meat, violets, and a summer pudding of mixed berries.  It has a long length with a blueberry and star anise finish.

This is a very good to exceptional wine.  This bottle has intensity enough for a case of wine, bursting with fruit even after six years.  This has really only just started to mature – there are a few developed notes but really this is very young and will grow into something special.  I’m so glad I have more in the cellar.

Robert Oatley Vineyards Montrose Omaggio Barbera 2006

I started this week with A for Arneis, and now midway through it’s B for Barbera.  We also get a chance to look at region we haven’t seen before, Mudgee in New South Wales.  Our wine for today is the Robert Oatley Vineyards Montrose Omaggio Barbera 2006.

Barbera is a red grape of northwest Italy.  It’s often found in areas with plantings of Nebbiolo and Dolcetto, sitting comfortably between the two in terms of the esteem with which it is generally regarded.  It is the primary grape (at least 85%) of Barbera d’Asti DOCG, Barbera del Monferrato DOC, and Barbera d’Alba DOC, and has been historically been a blending partner for Nebbiolo, but has also been turned into some very cheap wines as well.  In addition to Italy, there has been some migration of the grape east into Slovenia, Greece and Romania, but it has been more widely planted in California and Argentina.  Within Australia, where the vine arrived in the 1960s, Vinodiversity.com lists almost 100 producers working with the grape.  While in many of those cases it is still regarded as experimental, that number is likely to increase.

One reason is that Barbera does well in dry climates and low fertility soils, both of which are in great supply within Australia.  Also, it is highly productive and capable of very large yields, though strict pruning to prevent overcropping is generally required for quality wines. The vines are susceptible to a number of vineyard diseases, though modern clonal selection has mitigated that to some extent, and plantings in warm, dry areas suffer less from disease pressure.  The grape is prone to high acidity and good colour, but low tannins.

Traditionally the grapes were picked after Dolcetto but before Nebbiolo, to produce a drink-now style without maturation.  However, there has been a recent, but not universal, trend toward lower yields, later harvesting for higher sugar and more fruit, and time in oak barriques.  This push in the direction of higher quality Barbera wines has met with some success, but there is some difficulty in overcoming consumer associations of the grape with cheaper wines.

Mudgee is an area of New South Wales, northwest of Sydney and roughly 200km from the coast.  While the Hunter Valley is a neighbouring region on a map, Mudgee is on the opposite side of the Great Dividing Range, and has a different climate.  The altitude of 450m combines with a great deal of sunshine for warm to hot days during the growing season but cool nights.  Rain is generally confined to spring and summer, with little during ripening or harvest.  While generally thought of as a warm region, the Nullo Mountain vineyard recorded the coldest ripening period in Australia this past vintage between December 2011 and February 2012, based on degree days.  There is “ice wine” made in Mudgee, but by “non-traditional methods”.  I’m fairly certain that means they stick the grapes in a freezer before pressing them, which seems like a bit of a cheat to me.  The region is described as a nest in the hills, and there are mild slopes throughout.  The soils vary, though sandy loam over clay is common.  Water retention is an issue, and irrigation is the rule rather than the exception.

Vines were first planted in the region in 1858 at Craigmoor (which is now part of Robert Oatley Vineyards) and the region has one of, if not the, longest uninterrupted histories of viticulture in Australia.  It is best known for its red wines, though it has also historically been a home to Chardonnay, including a well regarded clone that was unknown to the rest of the country for at least 40 years, and is thought by some to go back to the original set of cuttings brought to Australia in 1832.

Robert Oatley Vineyards is run by the eponymous founder, who built the business in conjunction with interests as diverse as cattle stations and luxury tourism.  His first vintages were with Rosemount Estate in the Hunter Valley in the 1970s, and now his company produces wine from vineyards in both New South Wales and Western Australia.  The company now offers a collection of ranges, largely varietal, of Chardonnay, Riesling, Sauvignon Blanc (also in a Semillon blend), Pinot Grigio, Traminer, Cabernet Sauvignon (also in a Merlot blend), Shiraz (also in a Viognier blend), Tempranillo, Sangiovese, and this Barbera.  They also release a Shiraz from South Australia and Pinot Noirs from Victoria.  The wines are widely available on the export market, particularly within the USA.

Montrose Vineyard itself was planted in 1972 on red clay-loam at an altitude of 500-550 metres, largely with Chardonnay and Cabernet Sauvignon, though also with some Sangiovese and this Barbera.  Grapes for this wine were picked at 14.0 degrees baumé which is at higher end of the ripeness spectrum for Barbera.  It saw a year in older French hogshead before bottling.

In the glass this wine is clear and bright, with a very deep garnet colour – opaque to the rim, and even then just deep brick – with thick legs when swirled.  On the nose it’s clean and fragrant, with a developing character and spicy black fruit – blackberries and black cherries – with some sweet spice and liquorice.  On the palate it’s dry, with medium plus acidity, medium body, medium plus alcohol, medium plus tannins, and medium plus intensity.  There’s more black fruit, a hint of blueberry, liquorice, sour plum, and a bit of jam, along with some cedar wood notes.  It has a medium length, with a chocolate finish.

I tasted this wine consecutively over two days (the note is an amalgamation) and I liked it much better on the second day after some air.  I’m happy to call this wine good, but I would suggests decanting and some time for it to breathe.  It had a fair amount of complexity of fruit, but the secondary characters have yet to fully present themselves so perhaps some further improvement is in store.