Bowman Wines Le Corbeaux Melange ‘The Raven’s Blend’ 2010, or, ‘Give me more!’ quoth I

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, over many a DVD after a hard day’s work, I happened upon this quaint little drop. Having already sampled (nay, heartily quaffed) the Shiraz offered by Bowman Wines but a few weeks before, I knew what to expect. At least, so I thought…

Ah, distinctly I remember it was a bleak December (ok, Perth doesn’t really get particularly bleak in December, but I’m sure we’d had some unseasonal rain) when I imbibed this one. A cursory glance at it in the glass, deep purple in colour, almost black even, it is easy to see where the inspiration for the gothic label came from. Edgar Allen Poe surely envisaged his raven to be of a similar hue.

That’s the design of the label accounted for then, but why translate the name of the ominous bird of yore into French? Well, as with the Bowman Shiraz, a certain European style permeates. And this time it’s France that comes through. It’s got the acid and tannin that makes this a savoury specimen that squawks for a complimentary dish. Follow this up with some chewy liqorice and black cherry and you’ve got a dark, serious wine that would be ideal for a winter’s night in front of the fire.

I can see that this Raven’s blend would benefit with some cellaring, if only to see how appropriate the label would look with a few inches of dust on it, but it can be drunk now. Perhaps even share it with your very own Lenore.

2012
01/22
CATEGORY
Cabernet Sauvignon
Merlot
Shiraz / Syrah
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Yalumba Barossa ‘Patchwork’ Shiraz 2008, or, Finding Aladdin’s Lion in Wall-E’s Ratatouille

You know what, this isn’t the best wine I have ever tasted. I mean, if I waited until I was truly inspired by a sublime wine to write a blog, I would either not write very often (which you might get annoyed by) or I would be exceptionally drunk all the time (which is very tempting, but a frightening proposition for my liver and wallet). Instead, this savoury, well-balanced Shiraz evokes the reaction: “I like it. I think it’s a good wine.”

Now, to be clear, I don’t mean that in a sarcastic way. And it’s also not an example of my propensity for classic British understatement where the work “good” should probably translate to “fantastic” (at least in America anyway). No, I mean exactly what I say: It. Is. Good.

From selected warm and cool climate Shiraz grapes, Yalumba have crafted a wine that has the classic notes of white pepper, but is soft and subtle on the palate. It lovingly caresses the top of your mouth on the way to gently settling in the back of your throat for a warm finish. I would probably insert some sort of quilt analogy here if it weren’t sickeningly obvious.

No no, this is good (there’s that word again) quality wine that won’t break the bank and that, at the very least, is highly unlikely to disappoint anyone you offer it to. In this sense it’s a bit like a new Disney movie. It might not be the best release of the year, but with the might of Disney behind it a certain level of quality is guaranteed. It probably won’t push the boundaries, but it would take a cold individual indeed not to like it.

2011
11/27
CATEGORY
Shiraz / Syrah
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Bowman Wines Shiraz 2010, or, Live and unplugged in Heathcote

I took a good sniff of this one as I poured it into a decanter and it was a pretty intense blackberry jam experience I received. That and the deep purple-y, crimson-y colour led me to believe I was going to get a good smack of sweet berries when I took a sip of it. Now this, I thought, has got Heathcote Shiraz written all over it.

I then gave it a bit of time and it really settles down. At first I might have been a bit disappointed in the change but giving it a taste assured me that this drop hadn’t lost its bags of character, it had simply layered it into a well-balanced drop.

Bowman Wines say they are inspired by old world techniques and it shows. There’s a warmth to it that belies the warm climate it came from and there’s also a fair amount of woodland in there and a hint of eucalyptus. But the tannins are super silky and fine and the berry flavour is kept just this side of sour.

What this reminded me of, which is rather remarkable for a wine made from 100% Heathcote Shiraz grapes, is that old Italian favourite: Chianti. While there is a good length, this one still finishes up pretty clean on the palette, and the lighter style sheds the shackles of the full-bodied Heathcote standard.

Chianti similarities aside, I would say that this Shiraz still expresses the characteristics of the soil it’s from, but shines a different light on it. It’s a bit like listening to an acoustic version of a song you really like: it might seem odd at first, but you come to appreciate it for the way it allows you to pick up on those nuances and notes that get drowned out by the original. And what happens from here for the newly established Bowman Wines? Surely it’s only a matter of time before we get treated to more acoustic versions of Heathcote’s greatest hits.

2011
11/20
CATEGORY
Shiraz / Syrah
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Jim Barry ‘The Lodge Hill’ Shiraz 2009, or, Some like it juicy

Having had some pretty serious Shirazes recently, I have to say that I appreciated this one for its fresh and vibrant approach. Luscious cherry is the predominant flavour (the middle juicy bit, not the skin and the pip), which is buoyed by soft tannins and just a little white pepper in the background to remind me of what variety I am drinking.

It is a considerably agreeable drop that prompts clichés like “gluggable” to come gushing forth. And yet, there is still a backbone there: a nice length that lingers in the middle as well as the back of the palette.

This is a lively, full-bodied red, that’s full of energy. And if I had to compare it to anything I’d say that this one is like an actress from the 60s. This siren is voluptuous and sexy, but in a very inoffensive and elegant sort of way. Sure, this Shiraz could be tailor-made for enjoying in the company of good friends. But you’d be excused if you decided to take it easy, pop on Some Like It Hot, and watch Marilyn have a laugh with Curtis and Lemmon. Or, better yet, watch Joan strut her stuff in Mad Men and get all nostalgic about the way women used to be.

2011
11/13
CATEGORY
Shiraz / Syrah
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Tatachilla Merlot 2004, or, The new featherweight champion of the world

Ah Merlot. It’s almost odd how much vitriol such a seemingly innocuous grape variety can stir up among the serious drinkers in the wine world. Max Allen in his recent book The Future Makers brands most of the Australian versions of the varietal as “rather insipid and gutless”, serving no better (or worse) purpose than diluting a fine Cabernet. And if you’ve seen the movie Sideways, I’ll bet my bottom dollar (as the yanks would say) that one line that stood out for you was Giamatti’s “I am not drinking f***ing Merlot!”

And most of the time they would be right. Generally, the prospect of drinking a Merlot is pretty much in line with asking a movie critic if they’d like to go and watch the next Matthew McConaughey / Kate Hudson romantic comedy. I’d go forearmed with some hefty scepticism and some quality snacks to get me through the ordeal.

But then Tatachilla came along, and proved that when Merlot is taken seriously, it can be rather good. Oft touted as being a grape that’s a bit soft, I’m inclined to believe that this wine started off that way. But then someone at Tatachilla had the good sense to give this wine a bit of time and beat some sense into it… with wood.

Like a weedy schoolkid who wants to train to be a boxer I imagine this young grape started off with plenty of enthusiasm, but at the same time probably couldn’t take on the might of a vicious black tabby cat. In terms of flavour, that eagerness would be the vibrant, slightly sweet, fleshy fruit characteristics that drive this Merlot.

Then it would have undergone some intense, underground cellar training. Tatachilla put this boy to work. They talked some sense into it, made it lift barrels all day and probably threw stalks at it too. And then after years of hard work and perspiration/maturation, the boxer/wine that was unleashed on the world got some balls. By which I mean hardcore tannin, some savoury depth, and a fantastic persistent finish.

So, while Merlot might not have the might and reputation of the heavyweight Cabernets and Shirazes out there, this one is certainly not to be underestimated.

2011
11/06
CATEGORY
Merlot
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Yalumba ‘The Scribbler’ Cabernet Suavignon-Shiraz 2009, or, What’s in a name?

Now, I know what you’re doing right now. You’ve already seen the picture of the bottle, you’re scrunching your eyes up, scratching your chin, and saying to yourself in a quietly suspicious manner: “I know why he bought this wine”. Here’s a lad who likes his wine, he likes writing, and what a fine looking faux-notepad styled label on the front. “Oh yes,” you’re saying, pointing a finger now because you’re so sure of yourself, “I know why this one got the old ‘thumbs up’!”

Ok ok. You got me. No need to keep smiling in that dastardly manner. I know I’ve been rumbled. How could I resist? Isn’t that just the most geeky/cool thing you’ve ever seen adorn green-tinted glass? Never before has a moth to flame analogy been more appropriate. It borders on the unfair even…

It’s like getting a bunch of Star Wars geeks in a cocktail bar and, as they go to order, informing them that one of the drinks is called “The Yoda”. Do you think any of them would be able to say “no” to that? Do you think they would even ask what was in it? I seriously doubt it. The conclusion is so foregone it’s almost cruel.

But was I confident that this wine would actually taste any good? Well, no. To be quite honest, I’d tried a couple of Yalumba’s before and found them a little disappointing. So, when I cracked this one open and let it decant for a bit I approached with caution.

First I took a tentative sniff. That was the first clue that the Cabernet was leading this one. You know what it reminded me of? A Bordeaux. Definitely not something I was expecting, but definitely a good thing.

But wait, let’s not get carried away here. How many times have you had a wine that smelt fantastic, only to be disappointed when the liquid actually made its way down your throat? Too many, too many…

So I swirled, and I slurped. I probably looked a little concerned for a time, maybe even a little confused. I swirled and slurped again. And then, what’s that? Did a little smirk appear in the corner of my mouth. Well, probably. And did that smirk lead up to a full-on smile. Absolutely.

This was mostly Cabernet, all right, but smooth. It didn’t have the same acid as the reds from France, but it did have something else: it was refined. I’m loathe to use the pretentious phrase “finely structured”, but I can’t help it with this one. All the flavours were in their right places, it had good length, and it left me with that ineffable warm glow inside that comes from tasting a wine that seems inexplicably right.

I can see why they called this one “The Scribbler”. For an Australian red with two big grapes in it, this one is nicely restrained, but there’s still plenty going on in there to provide some inspiration. And, yes, if you’d have called this “The Yoda” (or anything else for that matter) I would have said the same thing. After all, what’s in a name?

2011
10/30
CATEGORY
Cabernet Sauvignon
Shiraz / Syrah
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Gemtree Vineyards ‘Uncut’ Shiraz 2009, or, My bread and butter

As soon as I took one whiff of this wine, I knew I was going to like it. I hadn’t even poured it into a glass or anything, I’d just unscrewed the cap, took a pre-emptive sniff and that was all it took to know this one was going to be a little different. Now, I know I’m pretty effusive about all wines I review on here, but that is still pretty rare. One sniff, that’s all it took? Geddouddahere!

Well, with this one, that’s exactly what happened.

You know what it was I smelled? Pepper. Swathes of it. And I don’t mean that in a bad, get-it-up-your-nose-and-you’ll-sneeze-for-a-week kind of way, I mean it in a pass-me-the-beef-because-I’m-going-to-pepper-the-crap-out-of-this-thing kind of way. As soon I inhaled that wonderful odour I could tell one thing: this was going to be a savoury Shiraz.

Now, I should probably clarify what I mean by “different” before, because I’m not saying that this drop is a novelty in the entire world of wine. It might be an oddity in McLaren Vale (which is what I meant) but, in fact, there is an entire nation creating wine that tastes much like this one on the other side of the world: Spain.

I really like this Shiraz for all of the same reasons I love a good Rioja. It’s dry and tannic and tasted of earth, and I mean this in all of the best possible ways! Sure, the fruit is in the back there, but it’s not so in your face and garish as many other South Australian reds. I’m guessing the 18 months in French oak and minimal intervention in the vineyard and winery had something to do with that.

I mean, yeah, sometimes it’s nice to just have a little fruit, but it’s also great when you let the other flavours get a look in for a change. Think of jam on toast for example. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good British hedgerow jam, but I also appreciate a fine piece of toast when I see one. If you’ve got some freshly baked bread (you know, one of those fantastically fresh country grain jobs from a proper bakery) then to douse it in buckets of jam is nigh on unforgivable. There’s nothing worse in this world than soggy toast in my opinion (come to think of it, I can’t think of anything that’s good soggy for that matter). And, of course, winemakers of all people should show some respect for the professional for whom yeast is equally important: the baker.

And that’s what this wine does. By bringing it back to basics, and by cutting away some of the fruity, frilly, jammy stuff, it really helps you appreciate the backbone of the wine. The bread and butter, if you will.

2011
10/23
CATEGORY
Shiraz / Syrah
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Ferngrove ‘Diamond’ Chardonnay 2009, or, The easy-going Chardonnay

Chardonnay is one wine in particular that becomes very different depending on the temperature it is at. Temperature, in fact, is paramount.

I can’t remember the amount of times I have had one and enjoyed it pretty cold, only to find when is warms up it becomes immensely sour and cloying. Like Bill Bailey in Black Books who succumbs to “Dave syndrome” if he gets hotter than 88 degrees, sometimes the extra heat just turns this drink nasty.

Then, of course, there is the opposite. Sometimes when it is cold the whole experience is insipid and underwhelming, but then you add a little heat and it’s like suddenly there’s a party in my mouth and everyone’s invited!

So I had this Ferngrove Chardonnay the other day quite cold at first and I thought it was nice and fresh. I got a little bit of citrus, but the experience was clean and refreshing. All good so far.

Then I waited for it to warm up, for it to turn. Oh, I’ve seen this Doctor Jekyll and Mr Hyde routine before, I thought. This one’s going to act all coy and innocent with me and then it’s going to go Victorian gothic on my arse!

But being the literary daredevil that I am, I persevered.

Sure enough, as the laws of physics (or is that chemistry… or biology?) dictate, the wine warmed and, as expected, it changed. But this wasn’t the overwhelming transformation I had feared. Some elements remained the same even: the citrus held on and the wine still tasted fresh. All that happened was the oak influence started to show through to make it just a hint more buttery. It became softer, with some tropical fruit blending into the citrus. It was all very slight; more subtle evolution than taste-bud-storming revolution.

Now, of course you’re not supposed to drink chardonnay fantastically cold anyway, optimum consumption ranges between approximately 9 and 12ºC. But we’re unreliable and disorganised creatures, aren’t we? If you’re having a party you don’t want to keep your guests waiting until the wine has chilled to exactly the right temperature. Or, even worse, hand them a glass and tell them to wait until it has warmed up sufficiently.

So, while I have to be honest and say that this isn’t the finest Chardonnay I’ve ever drunk in terms of complexity, it is at least very well-balanced. Because of this, and for its consistency at all temperatures, it means that it’s a summer barbeque winner.

Now all you have to worry about as far as temperature is concerned is donning the old sunblock and keeping an eye on that bugger who always burns the bloody chicken.

 

2011
10/16
CATEGORY
Chardonnay
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d’Arenberg ‘Dry Dam’ Riesling 2010, or, One for the laddies

I don’t think that I’ll really be offending anyone when I say that I used to think that Riesling was a bit of a girls drink. Of course, that was because I used to spend time with people who thought that the epitome of good white wine was the sweet Riesling produced by German power house Black Tower. I’m happy to say that I have moved on, and I sincerely hope that they have too.

Now I’ve found the light (it only took a decade and a 10,000 mile plane ride to the opposite side of the world) thanks to an exceptional array of Australian Rieslings that have opted to sit on the dryer side of the grape. And this one from d’Arenberg is a fine example.

Being young, it’s still very fresh and vibrant. It’s not oily, and only a little minerally. In fact, I thought it stole some of those passionfruit characters you’d normally expect to find in a Sauvignon Blanc, but then it augmented this with the classic citrus zing expected of its variety.

This one is light straw in colour, but don’t be fooled, it isn’t an airy fairy Riesling. In fact, it’s got some bottle (titter). If I had to give this Riesling a gender, I might even go as far as saying it’s a bit manly. It would be equally at home with a “namby pamby” salad as it is with some Moroccan spiced chicken cous cous (which is what I drank it with, funnily enough).

I think I would describe this offering as being a little like Minnie Driver in Good Will Hunting: pretty on the outside, but also good at hanging out with the lads. Oh, and it’s got a nice little story on the back of the bottle about where the name comes from, so you’ll feel all warm inside knowing generations of winemakers have been working on this one… Or is that just the alcohol? Who cares! Let’s have another sip…

2011
10/09
CATEGORY
Riesling
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Bellarmine Pinot Noir 2008, or, Terroir be damned

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a good Pinot cannot possibly come from Western Australia. Now, I’m not talking about the strange brews these sandgropers are coming up with, tasting like Cabernet Sauvignon and masquerading as decent Pinot like a bad version of Priscilla Queen of the Desert. Oh no, I’m talking about real, subtle, delicate Pinot. It is irrefutable that the true Pinot cannot possibly come from these arid western lands… Or is it?

Contrary to my last Pinot post, I would have to say that I like this one for exactly the opposite reasons to why I liked the last one. I like it because Bellarmine, the little legends, have come up with a Pinot that doesn’t taste like it’s come from Western Australia at all.

Now, I know some winemakers and critics out there would be in uproar about this. Those who are seeking to embody the terroir in their wine, to have the grapes imbue and absorb and be the taste of the land it is from.

But let me tell you something. I’ve been drinking a lot of Western Australian wines recently and I have had it up to here (I have my hand high above my head, right now trust me; I’m only tpynig tihs wtih one hnad and it’s hrader tahn you’d tihnk) I’ve had it up to here with all my reds tasting of eucalyptus and forest floors. Everything has started to taste like Cabernet.Shiraz tastes like Cabernet, Pinot tastes like Cabernet. I had a cheeky bottle of Zinfandel from Margaret River once and guess what it tasted like… That’s right… Cabernet. I even had a Chardonnay the other day and that tasted a bit like Cabernet too. (Actually, that last sentence was a lie. I’m all good with exaggerating for effect, but plain old lying is inexcusable. I apologise. I didn’t have a WA Chardonnay the other day but, you know, if I did, I’m sure it would have tasted like Cabernet!)

Anyway… It’s all good and well keeping the character of the land but, please, please, please, don’t let that come at the expense of retaining the character of the grape.

So there you have it. I enjoyed this Pinot because if I had been told it was from Tasmania or New Zealand, or any other cooler climate, I probably would have believed you. And I wouldn’t care because good Pinot is good Pinot, wherever it is from. And this one was light to medium bodied, with only a very slight sourness. It had great fruity, cherry flavours and a finish that I can only describe as mildly refreshing.

So now, when someone comes up to you with all of that tosh I wrote in the first paragraph, you know where to tell them the go. No no… don’t swear at them. Pemberton, that’s right, point them to Pemberton.

2011
10/02
CATEGORY
Pinot Noir
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