Far From A Fiasco

The importance of Marchesi Piero Antinori’s contribution to Tuscan wine specifically, to Italian wine generally and to the standing of both in the wider world of wine cannot easily be overstated. The figures make impressive enough reading on their own: Piero is the 26^th generation of a family whose unbroken winemaking provenance dates back to 1385; today the family owned company owns nearly 2500 hectares of vineyards in Italy and abroad, it produces around 20 million bottles for a turnover in excess of €115 million annually and it exports over 60% of its production to more than 100 different countries (I have even seen Antinori's bottles on the wine list of the restaurant in the Yak & Yeti hotel in downtown Kathmandu).

Impressive statistics aside, it is Antinori’s list of wines that has always spoken most persuasively in favour of the way Piero has chosen to run his family’s estate. A fervent champion of the inherent value of his native Chianti, and of that of all of the other Italian wine regions, he has worked long and hard to improve and modernise the techniques and regulations that traditionally favoured quantity over quality. Across the board, the standards to which Antinori consistently holds itself are even more impressive when you consider that it is one of the larger wine producers in a country of seriously large, and often seriously mediocre, wine producers.

A recent tasting of a cross section of Antinori’s wines, in the company of UK brand ambassador Alex Canetti, confirmed their quality to be as high as ever just as their names become even longer than ever!

Tenuta Guado Al Tasso,
Scalabrone Bolgheri
Rosato 2010

1. Tenuta Guado Al Tasso, Scalabrone Bolgheri Rosato DOC 2010 (12% ABV, 40% Cabernet Sauvignon, 30% Merlot and 30% Syrah). A reasonably deeply coloured, peony tinged, rosé with grapefruit citrus notes, white pepper, strawberry sweets and a whiff of Cabernet earthiness to its nose. Bright strawberry and raspberry fruit on the palate with a pleasing level of lemony citrus acidity and a hint of herbaceousness. A more serious wine than many a rosé, but it always puts a smile on my face and it’s great with food.

Tenuta Guado Al Tasso,
Guado Al Tasso
Vermentino 2011

2. Tenuta Guado Al Tasso, Guado Al Tasso Vermentino Bolgheri DOC 2011 (12.5% ABV, 100% Vermentino). More usually found in Corsica, in Sardinia and across the South of France, this racy Mediterranean variety retains it acidity in warmer regions giving racy, refreshing wines. Ripe, gently honeyed, Sauvignon-esque nose with suggestions of tomato leaf and greengage. Dry, but not austere; fresh and limey fruit was balanced by an almost salty minerality and the finish was surprisingly long for a light white.

Castello Della Sala,
San Giovanni Della Sala
Orvieto Classico
Superiore 2011

3. Castello Della Sala, San Giovanni Della Sala Orvieto DOC Classico Superiore 2011 (12.5% ABV, 50% Grechetto, 25% Procanico and 25% Pinot Bianco and Viognier). Along with Soave and Frascati, Orvieto is a wine whose reputation has been almost irreversibly tarnished by oceans of industrially produced, personality-free plonk and I find that a terrible shame. This is Antinori’s top Orvieto and its quality shows. A light, white fruit and blossom nose; the gently spiced, long, ripe palate echoes the white fruit and blossom from the nose paired with a fresh, citrusy acidity. The Pinot Bianco and Viognier add weight without overwhelming. Very good indeed.

Castello Della Sala,
Cervaro Della Sala 2009

4. Castello Della Sala, Cervaro Della Sala Umbria IGT 2009 (85% Chardonnay and 15% Grechetto). There are many great Chardonnays from all corners of the world, but, unlike those, this Umbrian take on Meursault benefitted from the freshness provided by the Grechetto. Whiffs of vanilla and toasty new oak – it was fermented and matured sur lie for six months in French oak barriques – wafted over lemon zest scented Chardonnay fruit. The palate, too, was dry and zesty, if a little oaky at present, although this will integrate and harmonise in time. Complex, smokey, toasty and full bodied, the richness was balanced by a streak of minerality. The finish was long, elegant and refined. An excellent wine, as always, although it needs another year or two in bottle to develop before you serve it with a poached lobster.

Tenuta Tignanello,
Marchesi Antinori Chianti
Classico Riserva 2007

5. Tenuta Tignanello, Marchesi Antinori Chianti Classico DOCG Riserva 2007 (13.5% ABV, 90% Sangiovese and 10% Cabernet Sauvignon and other complementary varieties). Whilst I really enjoy Antinori’s modern take on local white wines and its wholly atypical Cervaro, somewhat hypocritically I’m far less keen on its internationally influenced reds. Don’t get me wrong, they are in no way bad wines, quite the opposite in fact, it’s just that my traditional (old fashioned?) palate prefers a Chianti to be a Chianti. This wine was a case in point: a Chianti Classico, from the heart of the historic region, made from grapes grown in the renowned Pèppoli, Badia A Passignano and Tignanello vineyards, yet given a modern twist by fourteen months of ageing in barriques and by the addition of Cabernet Sauvignon.

If ever an Italian wine and a grape variety were synonymous with one another, then it must surely be Chianti and Sangiovese. I suppose my argument is with the Chianti DOC for not having sufficient faith in the heritage and quality of its wines rather than with any individual producer per se, but adding Cabernet Sauvignon and new oak will substantially alter the nature of any wine. Whilst the standard of Chianti has improved immeasurably over recent years, and certainly there were many aspects of the old production methods that needed to be improved upon, it has now become very difficult to find a traditionally styled wine that tells of its origins. To me, trying to market centuries of winemaking history and an inimitable terroir that is the apogee of cooler climate Sangiovese production with modern, Bordeaux-influenced, oak flavoured wines sends out something of a mixed message. Is the unique identity and timeless appeal of an important and renowned wine-producing region being sacrificed on the altar of current trends? Similarly radical reforms were roundly rejected down the road in Montalcino and I can only wonder if the Chianti region will come to regret its decision in the future. I don’t say stop making these internationally influenced wines; just devise a new and more appropriate nomenclature.

Anyway, back to the wine that was in my glass. Earthy and blackcurrant leaf Cabernet notes gave an edge to the tobacco, cherry and sweet, new oak nose. Minerally, earthy suggestions from the Cabernet also balanced the new oak on the palate, leaving the subtler cherry and leather flavours of the Sangiovese to linger underneath. Rounded, soft and with a long finish, it was undoubtedly an enjoyable and well-made wine. Modern? Certainly. Appealing? Definitely. But is it really Chianti?

Tenuta Tignanello,
Tignanello 2009

6. Tenuta Tignanello, Tignanello Toscana IGT 2009 (80% Sangiovese, 15% Cabernet Sauvignon and 5% Cabernet Franc). Although the Bolgheri Bordeaux blend Sassicaia was the first, it is Tignanello that has some claim to being the first genuine Super Tuscan, made as it is predominantly from Sangiovese. It is a modern take on Chianti and it was embarrassment over the price, the quality and the humble vino da tavola status of wines such as this that led, some would say inexorably, to the creation of the experimental IGT classification.

A smoky, toasty, brooding black fruit nose was dark and alluring if rather youthful. The palate was dry with firm, but very finely textured, tannins and complemented by a fresh, fruity acidity. The higher proportion of Cabernet Sauvignon and the small but influential proportion of Cabernet Franc gave more of a black fruit character than was evident in the Chianti Classico above and the oak was more deftly integrated. Dark, velvety and rich with a hugely long finish, the Sangiovese character was somewhat masked at present but experience of some older vintages suggests that this will be remedied over time. This release is still something of a baby and has plenty to offer in the future.

Tenuta Guado Al Tasso,
Il Bruciato 2009

7. Tenuta Guado Al Tasso, Il Bruciato Bolgheri DOC 2009 (13.5% ABV, 50% Cabernet Sauvignon, 30% Merlot and 20% Syrah with other red grape varieties). This is the newish second wine of Guado Al Tasso that I have only tasted once before, my abiding memory of this sole previous encounter being the pronounced level of alcohol (14% if I remember correctly). Black fruit, a hint of oak and a hint of smokiness characterised the rather simple nose, whereas the rather simple palate had a slightly burnt quality to it, possibly from the Syrah. Much less obviously alcoholic than before, unfortunately it still did nothing for me, although it may well have suffered in comparison to the Tignanello that it immediately followed.

Tenuta Guado Al Tasso,
Guado Al Tasso 2007

 8. Tenuta Guado Al Tasso, Guado Al Tasso Bolgheri DOC Superiore 2007 (14% ABV, 57% Cabernet Sauvignon, 30% Merlot, 10% Cabernet Franc and 3% Petit Verdot). Bordeaux varieties certainly have an affinity with Bolgheri, the region seems to imbue them with a spark of Italian soul. So much so that it was granted its own DOC back in 1994. Guado Al Tasso is one of the trinity of the region’s top wines each created by a different member of the Antinori family.

An herbaceous, blackcurranty, savoury nose led seamlessly into complex, well-structured palate that delivered different facets of flavour in the same way that a well cut gemstone reflects the light. One moment came the leafy, blackcurrant flavours of Cabernet Sauvignon, then came the softer, plummier character of Merlot. The next moment capsicum-tinged Cabernet Franc was highlighted, before the focus switched to the firmer, tannic Petit Verdot, all rounded off by beautifully integrated new oak. Beguilingly textured, harmonious and expertly crafted, the finish lasted and lasted. Bordeaux in inspiration, Italian in execution.

I have been an admirer of Antinori’s wines for nearly thirty years (thanks Dad!) and I can trace my love of Italy’s fresh whites, light rosés and structured reds to those simpler times of Villa Antinori Bianco, Capsula Viola Rosato and Villa Antinori Rosso. It was not until later I realised that their freshness, approachability and food friendliness symbolised the exciting blend of modernity and tradition that is still an unmistakeable hallmark of Antinori.

As I have said above and will continue to say, the quality of Antinori’s wines is as inarguable as it is impressive, particularly given the scale of production. I admit that the traditionalist in me is less comfortable with the evolution of their increasingly international style, but this is not an indictment of the wines, simply a matter of personal taste.

In case you were wondering about the title of this post, a fiasco is the traditional round-based bottle or flask of the Chianti region. These bottles would not stand up on their own (hence the word's subsequent meaning) and they were placed in a wicker cradle to support them. Today, it is the wicker-wrapped Chianti bottles so beloved as candle holders that utilise the name, although it is usually the wine inside them that is more worthy of the description. 

Hit And Miss

I have a deep and abiding love for Château Musar, so much so that I’ll accept its myriad of idiosyncrasies any one of which would cause me to reject another wine outright. This Bordeaux inspired oddity, with its distinctive blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Cinsault and Carignan, divides opinion more than any other wine I can think of. Some, like me, love its ferocious acidity and its feral flavours, whereas others criticise its volatility and its Brett infestation.

Although I have not yet really started to drink my vintages from the nineties, I have always found that the integrity of the corks in bottles of earlier vintages has been somewhat variable to say the least. Because the hardships that the Hochar family has faced, and overcome, in its desire to make one of the world’s great wines are so far beyond the usual trials of weather and vineyard disease, I can never understand why they would have chosen to seal their elixir with such moderate quality corks. I have to assume that it was the only option available during such a horrible period in Lebanese history.

The cork from this bottle of 1988 Château Musar

As you can see, the cork in this bottle of 1988 Château Musar was a case in point. It almost looked as though the upper quarter had been attacked by the cork equivalent of woodworm, whereas the remaining section had deteriorated as a result of seepage. This bottle had the lowest level of the twelve in the case and was ullaged to its mid-shoulder. Needless to say, I didn’t have high hopes, but 1988 is my favourite vintage of Musar and I never pass up an opportunity to drink it.

Château Musar 1988
(you can clearly see the heavy
crusting inside the bottle)

Whilst Musar always needs to be decanted to allow it to open fully, I decided against it this time, despite the crust it had thrown, as the level suggested that oxygen already had had plenty of time to do its worst. The wine was a very mature looking medium brick red, and was as clear and bright as the large amount of colour compounds forming a heavy crust inside the bottle would lead you to expect. The nose showed warm, sweet spice – cinnamon, nutmeg and black pepper – along with volatile red currant and pomegranate fruit and a soft earthiness. The palate was initially sweet, with an almost chocolatey/cocoa richness, that lead into fresher pomegranate fruit and cinnamon and nutmeg spice flavours. Drying out certainly – the last vestiges of cherry fruit were fading into lighter, tarter pomegranate flavours - but it was still vibrant and long with a feisty warmth from the (14%) alcohol on the finish.  The usual huge Musar acidity and not insubstantial tannins were still pretty much balanced by bright red fruit.

Definitely not a great bottle, and I’ve had better examples of this vintage reasonably recently, but given the state of the cork and the degree of ullage I’m surprised that it was even drinkable, never mind worthy of writing about.

What Matters

A recent weekend away was a rare chance to spend time with many of my closest friends, as well as an extended excuse for a few drinks. However, as lovely as it was, it wasn’t really the occasion for great wines. That being said, who can go a whole weekend with nothing decent to drink? Fortunately, I never leave home for any extended period of time without either a bottle or two of something particularly palatable stashed in my luggage or a well planned route to a noteworthy local vintner. With a boot full of goodies and, through a joyous twist of fate, with the rather wonderful Worth Brothers Wines at the bottom of the hill, I was all set to have a great time.

Our stay at Nether Burrows Farm was never going to be short of sustenance of any sort, but should three times the expected number of people have turned up we would still have had too much food and drink. Easy drinking was the order of the day(s) and I thought that half a case of Catena’s Alamos Malbec, along with a selection of Innis & Gunn’s cask matured beers, would to fit the bill admirably. Just for the hell of it, I also threw a bottle of Brennivín into the car for a little digestif action.

Brennivín

Now I’ve written before about the perils of returning to a former love, but this time I was going to try to rekindle a holiday romance. And everyone knows how that usually turns out. I fell for the distinctive charms of Brennivín during a couple of days in Reykjavik last December. It gets a lot of bad press considering how difficult it is to buy anywhere other than Iceland, although this might have more to do with it being the traditional accompaniment for Hákarl than to do with its actual taste. Speaking from experience, the flavours of Brennivín work very well with those of the shark, but I'll only be partaking of one of the two again. Brennivín (37.5% ABV) is a potato based schnapps, relatively softly textured, with a flavour of gripe water and a pleasant, not too overwhelming caraway spice. Serve it well chilled with smoked foods or just on its own after dinner. This was the first time I had tried it on home turf, but I'm thrilled to report that this was a holiday affair that survived the flight home.

On the Friday night we put a dent in the Malbec (and in the selection that everyone else brought), and so Saturday saw me taking a trip down the hill to Worth Brothers Wines for half an hour’s peaceful browsing. Sticking to my easy drinking, crowd pleasing brief, I decided against some interesting looking Austrian wines and instead plumped for a New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc and an Australian Cabernet Sauvignon Shiraz blend.

Greywacke,
Sauvignon Blanc
2011

Majella, The Musician
Cabernet Sauvignon
Shiraz 2009

Greywacke is the newish label from Kevin Judd, the winemaker who produced the first twenty five vintages of Cloudy Bay, a pedigree that had put his wines on my “Want To Try” list. His 2011 Sauvignon Blanc (13.5% ABV) was aromatic and finely balanced, its grapefruit pith and gentle tomato leaf nose made it more fruity than vegetal in style. Zesty and bright, white grapefruit and a squeeze of passion fruit gave the palate a restrained tropical note; ripe, concentrated and balanced by fresh acidity and a flinty minerality. I’m not a huge Sauvignon Blanc fan and I’m not really sure what one would drink this with, but it was a very good Marlborough example, not at all overblown, and I enjoyed it despite myself.

The red was Majella's 2009 The Musician Cabernet Sauvignon Shiraz (14.5% ABV) from Coonawarra, although a single sniff was enough to make its origins pretty obvious. The pronounced minty/eucalyptus character to the blackcurrant and peppery, oak spice nose was something that would always makes me think Coonawarra, and these flavours carried through to the full, rich palate. Although not hugely complex, it was bolstered by a touch of mulberry fruit from the Shiraz, a nifty lick of oak, fine tannins and moderate acidity to round things off. The alcohol was not too intrusive, but there was a hint of bitterness to the finish. Drink this over the next couple of years. A big Aussie red such as this wouldn’t have been my usual choice, but it was enjoyed by all concerned and that’s what matters.

We all had a fabulous break; the company, the food, and the drink were delightfully easy and we are already planning our next trip away. What shall I take next time?

Ditching The Expense Of Bordeaux

Thanks to Ben and Mark at the award winning Hanging Ditch Wine Merchants for organising a very enjoyable and interesting Bordeaux tasting dinner earlier this month at the St. James’s Club. Given their ethos of quality being paramount I knew that the wines on offer would not disappoint, but the objective of keeping the wines affordable was going to be more of a challenge. As is true of many other great wine producing regions, it is not difficult to find superb bottles of Bordeaux if money is no object. Unlike many other regions, however, it can be tricky to find great bottles of Bordeaux that are within the reach of a mere mortal’s wallet.

The other issue that counts against Bordeaux’s popularity at most tastings is its affinity with food. It takes a little practice to appreciate the nuances of young Bordeaux tasted in isolation. When you taste it with a meal, however, it’s as if a lightbulb flashes on and suddenly everything becomes clear. That was the logic behind this tasting dinner, plus it was a great chance for Ben and Mark to show off their buying skills!

Champagne
Delamotte Brut NV

Accompanied by a plucky chanteuse and her really rather good renditions of French favourites from yesteryear, Ben and Mark kicked off proceedings in fine style. The first wine, Delamotte Brut (12% ABV) en magnum, was actually the one I most wanted to try and was, perversely, my wine of the evening. Trust me to fall for the supporting actress before the leading lady had even taken to the stage.

Delamotte is a name that will be unfamiliar to most, but, as you would expect from the sister wine of Salon, its quality is unquestionable. A long established label in its own right, Delamotte also uses fruit from Salon’s younger vines as well as wines that don’t quite reach the exacting standards of what is probably the finest of all Champagnes. Predominantly grand cru Chardonnay (50%), the balance being Pinot Noir and Pinot Meunier (30% and 20% respectively), this was bright, fresh and beautifully rounded, not at all aggressive. The rich flavours of white stone fruit and citrus, plus a gentle yeasty autolytic character, made it a beautiful apéritif. A very classy wine and a real bargain (£30/bottle, £60/magnum) when compared to a lot of the Grandes Marques’ non-vintage offerings.

Château Des Antonins
Blanc 2010

As sad as I was to finish my Champagne, when we were asked to take our seats we had both dinner and a varied selection of Bordeaux to look forward to. First up were two dry whites made in completely different styles. Château Des Antonins Blanc 2010 (12% ABV, 70% Sauvignon Blanc and 30% Sémillon, £10) had an initial nose of candied citrus zest and typically vegetal Sauvignon Blanc aromas which faded into gently nutty Sémillon fruit. The palate had a Sauvignon Blanc edge as you’d expect from the blend which was rounded by the Sémillon. Light, fresh and a little frivolous, this was a great apéritif wine although it was rather overwhelmed by the powerful flavours of salmon goujons.

L’Esprit De Chevalier
Blanc 2008

The second white was an altogether different story. The second wine of esteemed Pessac-Léognan estate Domaine de Chevalier, L’Esprit De Chevalier Blanc 2008 (13% ABV, Sémillon and Sauvignon Blanc, £25) spent nine months in oak unlike the stainless steel matured Antonins above. Through no fault of the wine, I struggled to adequately describe the nose of this one, it reminded me of apple juice and had a slightly nutty quality. The palate showed lemony fruit, a nutty/oaky weightiness and just a hint of an oxidative character that called to mind a traditional style white Rioja. With two years of bottle age and a soujourn in oak  that the Antonins lacked, this was a more serious wine whose richness and complexity were a lovely paring with the breadcrumbed fish.

Château Roc De
Pellebouc

A trio of reds from a trio of vintages was poured alongside the main course of slow cooked rump of beef with root vegetables. From Baudouin Thienpont (brother of Jacques, owner of Le Pin) came the 2007 Château Roc De Pellebouc (12.5% ABV, 90% Merlot and 10% Cabernet Sauvignon, £12.50), a modern, lightly oaked style of Bordeaux from Entre-Deux-Mers, just across the Dordogne from Saint-Émilion. Ruby coloured and showing a degree of maturity, the Merlot was immediately apparent on the nose, although the Cabernet Sauvignon did seem to exert an undue influence considering the disproportionate amount in the blend. It added blackcurrant, pencil shavings and earthy aromas to the plumminess of the Merlot. The palate showed bright fruit tempered by pepper, spice and earth, all tempered by fresh acidity and moderate tannins. Elegant and, to me, a very traditional style of Bordeaux that was lovely when tried on its own but didn’t quite manage to stand up to the beef.

Château Bel-Air
Graves De Vayres
Fût De Chêne

Red wine number two was also from Entre-Deux-Mers, but from the tiny appellation of Graves De Vayres, so called because of the deep gravel parcels that distinguish it. Château Bel-Air Graves De Vayres 2006 Fût De Chêne (13% ABV, 55% Merlot, 30% Cabernet Sauvignon and 15% Cabernet Franc, £17.50) was produced by Philippe Serey-Eiffel, the great great grandson of the engineer behind the eponymous tower. This was a younger looking, deeper coloured, more purple wine than the Pellebouc, even though it was a year older. The nose had dark fruit, barnyardy, oaky/vanilla/coffee aromas and a greener edge to it than the previous wine, but the palate was softer, oakier and somehow less typical. To my palate it was a modern, international style of wine that worked very well with the main course, but somehow it just didn’t shout of its origins.

Château Barrail
Du Blanc 2008

The third red was Château Barrail Du Blanc 2008 (13.5% ABV, 70% Merlot and 30% Cabernet Franc, £17.50), a Saint-Émilion Grand Cru exclusively distributed the Mouiex family that owns Châteaux Pétrus, La Fleur-Pétrus, Hosanna, Trotanoy, and Magdelaine to name just a few! Despite an annual production of only around 1,500 cases, there has been substantial recent investment in completely refurbishing the estate’s cellar enabling a traditional style winemaking to continue at the highest quality level. Sixty per cent of the wine is matured in oak, half of which is new, whilst the remainder goes into stainless steel.

It displayed soft red and black fruit with a dusting of pepper and capsicum spice from the Cabernet Franc. Less overtly fruity and oaky than the last wine, it had an astringent/medicinal touch to the finish that I really rather enjoyed. The most interesting of the three reds and my favourite, even though its lighter style couldn’t compete with the beef.

Château De Rayne
Vigneau 2003

Cheese was served instead of dessert, the Stilton being a better match for the Sauternes than the Mrs. Kirkham Lancashire. I was unsure about the choice of Château De Rayne Vigneau 2003 (13.5% ABV, 80% Sémillon and 20% Sauvignon Blanc, £25) due to the abnormal heat of the vintage. Was there going to be sufficient acidity? Had the heat hampered the growth of botrytis? The amber hue of the wine didn’t do much to allay my worries, but the nose was certainly promising with its rich aromas of barley sugar, dried apricot, marmalade and ripe mango. Similar flavours carried through to the palate, balanced by an unexpectedly taut acidity that kept it vital. It was definitely as good as it will get so plan to drink up any bottles you might have, but it was an exceedingly pleasant drink and a very agreeable surprise.

The only thing I felt that was missing was a Cabernet Sauvignon dominated, left bank style of Bordeaux which would have been an interesting contrast to the Merlot based blends shown as well as a great pairing with the beef. That being said, it's always an adventure to tread the path less travelled and I'm not sure I would have tried the selection above if left to my own devices. A big thank you once again to Ben and to Mark, our ever charming and informative host, for a very enjoyable evening.

Giuseppe Quintarelli: Never To Be Forgotten

Giuseppe Quintarelli

Giuseppe Quintarelli, the incomparably gifted and inspirational maestro of the Valpolicella region, has passed away aged eighty-four after suffering from Parkinson's disease for some years. Each of his wines, from his Valpolicella to his Amarone Riserva, has such effortlessly beautiful poise, concentration and sense of place that it is easy to overlook the dedication, the skill and the love that the quietly unassuming "Bepi" lavished upon them. A deeply religious man, he believed in patience, diligence and the pursuit of perfection in the vineyard and the cellars. "The secret of my wine? I follow my rules, I do not run behind the fashions. You must have rules, but also update without abandoning traditions.”

Never one to latch onto a current trend, at times he struggled to sell his wines. As Burton Anderson observed: “It’s simply that the philosophical Bepi, after travelling and observing the progressive techniques of others, decided that there was nothing to be gained from changing the methods learned from his father and grandfather.”

A label from Giuseppe Quintarelli's
Amarone Della Valpolicella 1997

His approach was renowned as being strongly traditionalist, with only a few concessions to modernity. Although his Amarone spends seven years in Slavonian oak botti, and it was only relatively recently that labels ceased to be hand written and hand applied to bottles, S. Quintarelli was relentlessly experimental even as he adhered to the traditional techniques passed down to him. He was the first in the region to plant Cabernets Sauvignon and Franc, using them to brilliant effect in his barrique-aged appassimento wine Alzero, as well as blending them with Corvina in his Primofiore. He began production of a dry white wine, something very unusual in the Valpolicella region, and he was also the first person in the area to experiment with Nebbiolo.

Strict grape selection resulting in uncommonly low yields for the Veneto, combined with painstaking attention to detail and the patience to allow his wines to evolve in their own time, means that a bottle bearing the Quintarelli name is never going to be cheap. Prominent Italian wine journalist Franco Ziliani puts it far better than I ever could when he states “the wines of Quintarelli are completely different from the standardised, repetitive and boring wine commodities that you so often find among Amarones today. They are very expensive, rare and not so easy to understand. They are wines that require intelligence, experience, culture, patience and time, all elements so different from the simple, fast appreciation of wine today.”

The last time I visited S. Quintarelli, I was fortunate enough to taste most of his then available wines. His 1995 and 1997 Amarone were nostalgic delights: powerful but fresh, ripe and voluptuous without being at all overblown, yet with the rustic, spiced, earthy character once so typical of the region. The stunning 1995 Recioto was one of the most shockingly complex, harmonious and beautiful wines I think I will ever taste, sweeter and more approachable in its youth than the Amarone and surely the wine that completely defines the phrase vino di meditazione.

“Quintarelli was the guru of Valpolicella,” says Romano Dal Forno, who studied under Quintarelli whilst establishing his own winery. “He was an example, especially in those years where quality was not the main concern of winemakers in general.”

In a world where science and technique so often supplant passion and respect, I can only hope that the uncompromising, obsessive and perfectionistic devotion that drove S. Quintarelli will be continued by his successor and nurtured in the way that its unique results demand.

I send my sincere condolences to all of S. Quintarelli’s family, and to everyone fortunate enough to have had their lives enhanced by the man and his wines.

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.