Showing posts with label Yalumba. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Yalumba. Show all posts

Sunday, 25 December 2011

Wood You Believe It?

It doesn’t take much to make me want to open a good bottle of wine, but reminiscing about great bottles past is a sure fire way to make me grab a corkscrew and head down to the cellar. Mention of the bottle of 1992 Yalumba Octavius Shiraz that returned with me from Australia (see “An Old Flame” 05/12/11) started me thinking that it was about time that I tried a bottle from the case of the 1996 vintage I bought ten or twelve years ago. Is it a bit weird to buy a case of wine on the basis of its reputation and then not to try a bottle for twelve years? You can at least start to see why I have a problem with bottles falling off the far side of their maturity plateau.

The Yalumba Octavius Shiraz 1996 (14.5% ABV) was a deep blood red, turning pinker at the rim. It didn’t leave tears, it just coated the glass. Talk about growing old disgracefully, this was a real rock ‘n’ roll wine: if some fruit and oak is good, then the most of both that can be squeezed into a bottle must surely be better. The full, powerful and complex nose saw sweet, ripe fruit matched blow for blow by the sweet vanilla of American oak. Raspberry and blackberry fruit, coffee, a medicinal menthol/eucalyptus edge (it reminded me of Vicks Cough Syrup) balanced by a faintly meaty or leathery undertone all swirled around my nostrils. Pretty much every box was ticked in the Barossa Valley Shiraz handbook. There was a tickle of alcohol as you might have expected, but it was in no way overwhelming.

Yalumba, Octavius
Shiraz 1996
After the sweetness suggested by the nose, the palate was dry yet rich and voluptuous. Dark fruits, coffee and Vicks reappeared, as did bags of soft sweet oak, all held in check by plenty of firm but refined tannins. There was so much of everything that this was wine2. The drying tannins, the gentle warmth of alcohol and a salty, mineral core combined with the moderate acidity and tamed the fruit and oak. All of the flavours lingered and melded throughout the long finish. 

The amount of oak was hardly surprising given this wine's 26 months in American oak hogsheads (100 litre barrels); the surprise was that it was not only balanced and well structured but really rather splendid. This easily has another ten years or more of life left in it and, although it is not my usually preferred style of wine, I do look forward to drinking the rest of the case in the coming years.

Friday, 2 December 2011

An Old Flame

Common wisdom states that you should never return to a past love, and so it was with a degree of trepidation that I opened a bottle of wine which I had tasted (and loved) only once before, almost twelve years ago to the day.

It all began with a couple of interesting bottles I bought as a gift for my old man whilst I was in Australia, around the end of 1997. One was a 1992 Yalumba Octavius III Shiraz and the other was a 1986 Dorrien Cabernet Sauvignon by Seppelt. Both were around £30 or AU$60, but Australian wine was expensive in Australia then and even well known brands cost around 25-30% more than they did back in the UK.

As the older of the two, it was the Dorrien that we tried first, on my birthday as it so happened, way back in 1998. I was nominally studying for my WSET Advanced Certificate at the time, but the sum total of my academic effort had been to write tasting notes about the occasional great, good or interesting bottle I opened. This was one such bottle, hence my accuracy with the tasting date.

To cut an overly long story short, it was a fantastic wine and I actively sought out a UK stockist so that I could buy some more. Walter S. Siegel Limited, then the importer of the Seppelt wines into England, had a few cases of the 1993 and 1994 vintages of Dorrien Cabernet Sauvignon still available, and, before I snapped it all up at the crazy price of £12 per bottle, they very kindly sent me a bottle of the 1993 and a bottle of its sibling 1994 Drumborg Cabernet Sauvignon as samples. The 1993 Dorrien was, and still is, one of my favourite Australian wines, but the Drumborg also left a lasting impression.

I don’t know why I never bought any of the Drumborg, although I suspect it was because I had spent up on the Dorrien after purchasing everything Siegel had left. About that time, the Seppelt agency passed to Matthew Clark and, in 1999, I purchased several cases of the 1996 Dorrien at the even more ludicrous price of just £10 per bottle, receiving with them a mixed half case of samples for my trouble. Three were everyday Seppelt wines that I’m sure were perfectly pleasant but which passed without note; one was a 1996 Dorrien that was tried quite promptly to get a handle on the latest vintage of my new favourite; one was a 1996 Great Northern Shiraz (something of a legendary bottle of Australian wine and so I held onto it, eventually enjoying it greatly a year or two ago) and the final bottle was another 1994 Drumborg Cabernet Sauvignon.

Having been so enchanted by my previous bottle, despite its youth, I decided to cellar this second one and save it for a rainy day. As is so often the case, I never really got round to opening this second Drumborg, but after losing too many bottles recently to the ravages of time, I’m now making a concerted effort to drink up anything that might be passing its peak of maturity.

Seppelt, Drumborg
Cabernet Sauvignon 1994
My notes from 1999 describe the deep purple 1994 Seppelt Drumborg Cabernet Sauvignon (13% ABV) as having leafy, tobacco, woody and earthy fragrances along with berry fruit and more exotic aromas of mint, eucalyptus and spice. The palate had similarly mint and tobacco infused berry fruit, with earthy notes and fine but firm tannins. I noted a beautiful, cool climate elegance and a very long finish, but also an austerity that needed time to soften.

Skip twelve years and, whilst still an imposingly deep ruby, the brick-tinged hue of the rim suggested maturity. An unmistakable Cabernet Sauvignon nose: dusty cassis fruit laced with herbaceous, green pepper notes that became more celery leaf in character with air. A gentle whiff of oak rounded things off.

Smooth and mellow, bright blackcurrant and bramble fruit merged with delicate oak spice and plummy, cedary flavours. The slightly firm acidity, an indication that the wine might just have been starting to dry out, and the fine-grained, chalky tannins provided a harmonious and elegant frame for the fruit. The finish was still long and sophisticated.

Seppelt pioneered Drumborg as a grape growing region in 1964 when it planted its Drumborg vineyard near Portland in Southern Victoria. Facing the Great Southern Ocean, the area’s southerly latitude, together with icy winds that blow up from the Antarctic, make Drumborg an extremely cool climate region and result in small harvests, often occurring as late as mid May. So marginal is the region that the single vineyard Cabernet Sauvignon was not bottled every year, only when the quality of the grapes warranted.

A prolonged period of terrible management of the Seppelt brand by the then owners Foster's meant that the difficult climate was a perfect excuse to re-allocate the resource of the this vineyard. The last vintage of Drumborg single vineyard Cabernet Sauvignon was 1998; regrettably the old vines were then grafted to Riesling. The shame of the matter is that a degree of sense is now returning to Australian wine producers, and elegant, cool climate red wines of 12% ABV are currently their holy grail. The Drumborg Riesling is supposed to be very good, but I’m still mourning what has been lost.

The Dorrien Cabernet Sauvignon suffered similarly from misguided management at this time, and was deleted from the Seppelt portfolio as a single vineyard bottling. What was once an iconic Australian wine, spoken of in the same breath as the finest wines from Penfolds, Henschke et al, sadly saw its last vintage in 1999. Its fruit is now used elsewhere, uncredited in nondescript blends.

I love both the Drumborg and the Dorrien dearly, but, as with whiskies from long-closed Scottish distilleries, I’m torn between a desire to drink and enjoy my remaining bottles, as is their raison d’être, or to respectfully hold onto them as the museum pieces they have now unfortunately become.

Monday, 31 October 2011

A Moan And A Wine

I always try my best to support tastings up here in the north west, even if I have to pay for a ticket so to do! A recent, and rather high profile, event caught my eye and I thought that I should pop along to see what it was all about. This was the second in a series of three tastings hosted by the Three Wine Men: Oz Clarke, Tim Atkin MW and Olly Smith, all of whom are perfectly charming and frighteningly knowledgeable.

After perusing the online catalogue from September’s London event, it seemed that a little organisation was called for. With 587 examples on offer from 51 exhibitors, it would have been easy to spend a couple of days tasting my way through them. A list of the tables and the wines that I wanted to make a beeline for hopefully meant that I wouldn’t miss anything exciting in Manchester.

Saturday duly rolled around, I wound my way to the Museum of Science and Industry and I bought my ticket. It would be something of an understatement to say I was a bit disappointed when I opened the Manchester brochure to see only 284 wines listed from 26 exhibitors. Although a reasonable showing by anyone’s standards, nigh on all of the more esoteric and higher quality wines, not to mention a significant number of exhibitors, from the London show were all absent.

As I’ve said, I’m always happy to support any of the all too infrequent tastings that take place in Manchester, but I can’t help feeling that it was misleading and unfair to advertise this as the same event as the two London versions, to charge the same price for tickets and yet to offer only half the number of wines and exhibitors. Was it a lack of space at the Manchester venue or are London wine merchants simply not bothered about the fifty million or so people who live outside the capital who might like to try, and who might want to buy, their wines? Or are they just so London-centric in their focus that the rest of the country doesn’t even register on their radars? Maybe I should move to Hong Kong…

I hoped to be writing about thirty or forty thrilling and new (to me) wines that I had had the chance to try, but absenteeism severely whittled this number down. Fortunately, I had the chance to catch up with a few people I hadn’t seen for quite a while, so the afternoon wasn’t a total write off. Of the wines I did try, there were some great new finds and some welcome old friends, plus a couple of really fine beers that impressed me so much I bought some there and then.

Dönnhoff, Kreuznacher Krötenpfuhl
Riesling Kabinett 2009
The best way to start any tasting is with a page full of German Rieslings, so naturally my first stop was the Tanners table. Seven Rieslings in a kaleidoscope of styles were an ideal way to fire up my tastebuds. From a toasty, slatey, bone dry 2008 Bürklin-Wolf Wachenheimer Trocken, via a lovely dryish, white fruit and citrussy 2009 Feinherb (the new name for Halbtrocken) by Weiser-Künstler that just made me smile, to a surprisingly youthful 1998 Hochheimer Kirchenstück Auslese from Domdechant Werner with its honeyed nose and its citrus and spice, stewed apple palate. How can anyone not like this grape? It’s an always too rare pleasure to taste a genuine Piesporter (Einzellage, never Grosslage), and Kurt Hain’s 2007 Goldtröpfchen Kabinett was a grapefruit scented, off dry gem that made the oceans of filth that share its name even more lamentable. The outright star for me was Dönnhoff’s 2009 Kreuznacher Krötenpfuhl Kabinett which was restrained and structured, just off dry, with beautiful green apple fruit, complex minerality, excellent acidity and a long, long finish. Brilliant and food friendly, only 8.5% ABV and just £15.

Marqués De Murrieta, Capellanía Rioja
Blanco Reserva 2006 (right) and Castillo Ygay,
Rioja Gran Reserva Especial 2004 (left)
Conveniently, the table next door was that of Marqués De Murrieta, one of my favourite Rioja producers, which meant that I didn’t even have to walk very far for my next set of treats. An unexpected and interesting 2010 Albariño (13% ABV) from Murrieta’s Pazo De Barrantes estate in Galicia kicked things off. Full and rich but fresh, lemon and grapefruit citrus was countered by a floral and white fruit character with whiff of peppery spice on the top. This was a lovely precursor to my wine of the day, Murrieta’s own 2006 Capellanía Blanco Reserva (13.5% ABV), a 100% Viura wine that filled me with hope for white Rioja generally. Matured for 15 months in new French oak barriques, this was bone dry, just a touch oxidised (in a good way), citrussy yet creamily textured and with a long, lemon and vanilla finish. At a time when so many white Riojas are being dumbed down with Chardonnay or are eschewing lengthy oak ageing, this was a fantastic wine that I will be actively seeking out.

The reds on show were more of a mixed bag for me. A 2005 Marqués De Murrieta Rioja Tinto Reserva (14% ABV) had fine tannins, bright strawberry and red berry fruit with a toasty edge, but it just lacked a little soul. Time might be what it needs. The 2004 Castillo Ygay Rioja Gran Reserva Especial (14% ABV) was also still a baby, showing rich berry fruit and plenty of savoury oak influence. Complex, balanced and well structured, definitely an iron fist in a velvet glove; there will be plenty more to come from this wine. Buy it now, drink it in a decade or two.

Yalumba, The Virgilius
Viognier 2008
Yalumba is a producer that stands out for several reasons, one of the most commendable of which is their long standing commitment to the left field Viognier instead of to the ubiquitous Chardonnay. Their 2010 Eden Valley Viognier (13.5% ABV) had a huge jasmine and ginger scented nose which led into a dry and elegant apricot and ginger palate. Not at all blousey, the alcohol was held firmly in check and the creaminess imparted by the oak aged portion was balanced by fresh acidity. Its big brother, the 2008 The Virgilius (14% ABV), had a less obvious nose and was less flamboyant overall, concentrating on the savoury and spicy aspects over the floral and white fruit. Toasty, minerally and multi-faceted, gingery spice was more the focus than apricot fruit. A great and a great value wine, although this vintage is reaching the end of its useful life, enjoy it now with food.

Innis & Gunn: Blonde, Original
and Rum Cask (left to right)
The one table I definitely wanted to visit was that of brewer Innis & Gunn. They began by brewing beer to season barrels for a William Grant ale cask conditioned whisky, but the resulting beer was too good to throw away. I knew of their oak aged beers, but I had never had the chance to try them. I wasn’t let down.

The Original (6.6% ABV) was mellow, complex and had a great depth of flavour after its 77 day maturation period. It had a sweet toffee and vanilla oak character that countered the fruity, gently bitter hoppy notes in a very easy to drink fashion. The dark Rum Cask bottling (7.4% ABV) was richer, sweeter and softer than the Original, with a sprinkle of Christmas spice from the navy rum casks. The Blonde (6.0% ABV) was the lightest and freshest of the three regular bottlings, crisp and hoppy with a delicate vanilla character.


Innis & Gunn, Highland Cask
Limited Edition
These three were all very good, but the two limited editions were the ones that well and truly took my fancy. The slightly mysterious Triple Matured beer (7.2% ABV) was another darker offering, with delicious treacle toffee flavours and a dusting of bitter cocoa. The Highland Cask (7.1% ABV) was my favourite, having been finished in casks used to mature an 18 year old Highland single malt. It had a firm, warming backbone and was a touch drier the other bottlings, the definite spirity, fruity and smokey/oaky character I assume came from the whisky. The Original, the Rum Cask and the Blonde are all widely available, but I haven’t managed to find the limited editions anywhere yet.