The Wine Window: Drink Before It Closes On What You're Saving

I've said it a bunch of times -- I'm not a collector of anything. I don't collect stamps or snowglobes or even shoes. I don't even collect wine. My "cellar" is limited to about 40 to 50 bottles of wine, all of which will be consumed at some point in the next few years and replaced with other stuff to enjoy. My philosophy: you can't take it with you, so you may as well enjoy it now. Plebian? Maybe. Gratifying? Oh, yes.

That said, the wine I have in my small selection I'm excited about. I'm saving the bottles to enjoy on a day that I feel like I want it...sometimes just because and sometimes for an occasion.

So when I turned 21 again for the (I'm not telling you the number) time, I thought it would be nice to pop open the bottle of 2004 Clarendon Hills Hickinbotham Grenache, a very well esteemed wine from a small, French-trained winemaker in Australia that in previous times I have nearly passed out from due to its ridiculous, over the top deliciousness. At about $65, it's not an everyday wine, but a good treat for a special day.

Let me try to explain my love for this wine, since my memories of it are vivid. After decanting it for hours, I remember it being full of lush raspberry and blackberry fruit, tobacco, and leather, with the texture of liquid velvet. It was one of the most unabashed, smooth, balanced yet massive (meaning lots of alcohol and flavor) wines I've ever had. I loved this wine. I dreamt about it. It was so far afield from the more subtle, earthy wines I usually love but it was so damn good. A guilty pleasure for me.

So I saved 2 bottles of the 2004. I kept thinking of opening them, but just never did. They were stored in good conditions, and I kept eyeing them but didn't go for it. Then, finally, the other night, we brought a bottle to the French restaurant, Atmosphere (great place with a great wine list if you're ever in Atlanta), where we were having dinner for the anniversary of my 21st birthday.

The waiter opened and decanted the wine as soon as we sat down. While waiting for this little flower to mix with oxygen and show its beauty to us, we ordered two excellent glasses of Piper-Heidsieck Brut Champagne (which tasted like olive ciabatta bread and was fabulous). MC Ice and I took sinful sniffs, so excited just for a whiff after about 2 years of abstaining from this treat.

But the sniff was our first clue. The rich berry notes, the dark mocha, the leather and the tobacco were gone. A very light raspberry with a strong burn from the 14.5% alcohol were the only discernible smells. With a wine like this, that I expect to be unabashed, this was a horrible sign. It was a shadow of the wine I remembered.

With a little bit of dread, I drank it. Oy. The taste was even more blah. This wine was so muted. All the bold beauty was gone. It was just hot alcohol with a little bit of fruit. We waited longer to see if anything would change. Nothing. It had passed its prime. The wine was finished. It was done. It just sucked. Thankfully the wine list at the restaurant was great, so we ordered a lovely Bordeaux from Pomerol that was tasty with MC Ice's hanger steak and my mushroom and eggplant dish.

Still, though I wondered -- was it just bottle variation or was this wine not so ageable? I decided to pop open the other bottle when we got home to see. It was equally blah. I even left it in a decanter overnight. Same deal. Nothing much had changed. A little more fruit but more like a $10 Cotes-du-Rhone.

This is a sad but a cautionary tale.

Even though this is small lot wine made from meticulously cared-for vines, the high alcohol, fruit-forward nature of this wine actually worked against it and killed its aging potential. I did a little poking around on the internet to see what others had said about it, and Cellar Tracker (a great site where people record their wine notes) had some great info. In 2010, the wine seemed to consistently rock, similar to how I remember it. In 2011, there was a lot of variation in people's experiences with it -- some said it was still great, some had the same experience I did. 

It's not a huge body of evidence, but my guess is that after 8 years, this wine is on the verge of falling apart and being over the hill. Some bottles are already dead, the rest is probably dying. It's fairly well documented (although some may argue) that high alcohol wines made with very ripe fruit tend to lose flavor and drinkability a lot sooner than those that have less fruit and more "backbone" -- or stuff like acid, tannin, and moderate alcohol, all of which are natural preservatives. Too much ripe fruit and not enough of the other stuff and you get a wine that's not built to last.

So what does all this mean? I'm writing as kind of a cautionary tale. If you have a great bottle that you're saving, think about drinking it, especially if what you liked about it was the rich fruit flavor. Wines are not stagnant. They change with time. If you buy the stuff to drink it and enjoy it, don't hold back. GO FOR IT! I'd hate to have what happened to me, happen to you. Not all wine gets better with age and if you miss the window for when it's great, you'll be disappointed. 

My new rule of thumb -- if I've got a fruity wine, I'm drinking within 5 years. I'll age the French, Italian and Spanish stuff, but the others I'm drinking and I'm not going to feel bad about it! Too much reward in drinking it and too much risk in saving it. 

What do you think? Leave a comment below or join the Facebook page, where there's sure to be a great discussion on the topic!

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A Cool, New White Grape to Explore: Semillon

I've been in a very red wine state of mind lately, but as I was trolling the aisles of one of my favorite local stores (that, as an aside, inexplicably put down a faux marble floor that made me think of some of the garish homes of my Long Island childhood), a wine made from a grape I want to learn more about caught my eye. It was Torbreck's Woodcutter's Sémillion (SEM-eee-ohn) from the Barossa Valley of Australia.

Since I've talked about the Barossa and Torbreck in other posts, I'm going to focus on the Sémillon grape -- which, surprisingly, is the second most planted white in France (after a nasty, low quality blending grape that's also used in Cognac production, Ugni Blanc). It's a fickle grape but kind of fascinating and one that you don't often see made as a stand-alone wine -- it's usually part of a blend.

A few basic facts on Sémillon:

• It's a white grape that's high in alcohol, pretty low in aroma and has medium acid
  
• It does fabulously well when put in oak
• It is not a good grower everywhere, so be careful. In cool climates it can taste grassy like a Sauvignon Blanc and in really hot climates it loses all it's delicate character and tastes like cheap jug wine. It requires Goldilocks conditions
• It's a white grape that's a primary component of white Bordeaux, along with Sauvignon Blanc and another grape called Muscadelle. Because of the description in point one, it's a good blending partner for Sauvignon Blanc, which is both acidic and aromatic
• It's the leading star of another Bordeaux favorite -- the sweet wines of Sauternes -- where it's, again, blended with Sauvignon Blanc
• It's native to the Sauternes region of Bordeaux

So that's some background on the grape, but what the heck does it taste like? It's made in two styles -- dry and sweet. The more famous of the two is the sweet.

I know a lot of us have an aversion to sweet wine, but I'd be remiss if I didn't at least talk about how awesome Sémillon performs when it's attacked by a nasty fungus call botrytis (bo-TRY-tis), which has been renamed "noble rot" in many languages to make it seem less disgusting.

Sémillon, with its thin skin, growing in a humid region like Bordeaux or the Rheingau in Germany is susceptible to this fungus. And when it gets humid and then a cool spell hits (common in these areas), botrytis attacks Sémillon and does something really unusual to the grape. Instead of making it taste horrible and rotten, it concentrates sugars and flavors and leaves the acidity of the grape in tact. That means that the wines produced are sweet without being overly sugary and unbalanced -- the acidity puts the concentrated sugar and the honeyed, bready, tropical flavors in check and the wine is pure goodness without being overwhelming (pictures, left, are courtesy of a winery in Sauternes, Cru Berrejats).

If you haven't tried it, all I can tell you is that wine from Sauternes is unbelievable. Even if Sémillon isn't the most popular white wine in the world, it's got a bright future as long as it's grown in Bordeaux and botrytis keeps attacking it!

Before we move to the dry version, I do want to ponder something for a second... I've got to wonder how the hell someone figured out that they could make wine from grapes with this heinous fungus on it (the history is nebulous and there is no lore surrounding the specific person who made the 'discovery'). It's so ugly and looks poisonous, but I imagine that a few centuries ago some dude had his harvest ruined by botrytis and thought to himself, "no one will know if I make wine out of this crap. I'll sell it anyway." In his quest to make a buck, he stumbled upon liquid gold. So kudos to that dude, whomever he may be.

Ok, but onto dry Sémillon. It's made mainly in Bordeaux (in the blend and called Bordeaux Blanc), South Africa, and Australia, and is much different from the sweet version. Unaged, dry Sémillon is a very lemony, citrusy wine. It tastes like (dare I say?) just boring white wine -- neutral with some acid but not much character. Sometimes it can take on an herbal or tropical note, and can be a little like candle wax too, but it's generally a little boring without any age.

I think this wine is better when it's been held in the bottle for a while. With a little age, Sémillon gets interesting. I've had a few that are a bit older and they are amazing. Boring white wine turns into something honeyed and croissant-like, and can allegedly (I haven't experienced this particular phenomenon myself) taste like buttered toast, even if there's been no time in an oak barrel, which is generally responsible for toast-like flavors. That's kind of cool for such a low profile grape, no?

With all that in mind, you can understand why I was curious to try the (dry) Torbreck Woodcutter's Semillon and see how it stacked up. Torbreck makes insanely good Shiraz, and they are a really reputable producer, so it seemed like a great bet that they'd deliver on this wine. Here's what I thought about it:

The Wine: Torbreck Woodcutter's Semillon
Where It's From: Barossa Valley, Southeastern Australia
The Grapes: 100% Sémillon
Vintage: 2009
Price: $16.99

Color: A rich, golden color -- like liquid 14 karat gold. This is mostly from the grape, which tends to be more yellow in color but partly from the fact that the wine was fermented in oak barrels (although it's mostly the grape that lent color here -- the barrels used were old, so they could only give the slightest tinge of pigment to the wine).

Smell: Totally unique. The first thing I noticed was that it kind of smelled like a Riesling and Sauvignon Blanc mated. It was like Riesling because it had a really strong gasoline/petrol stink and an appley and unripe nectarine smell too it. It was like Sauvignon Blanc because it smelled like hay in a barn or green grass. There was a distinct gardenia smell and then an old oak smell too -- like the an old wood cabin. Interesting...

Taste: I know the oak on this wine wasn't new, but I could taste wood right away. With that wood flavor, the wine was like a combo of unripe peaches, honeysuckle glycerin soap, and wax lips (if you didn't have these in your childhood, you missed out. Go to a novelty store and get some. They are awesome and disgusting all at the same time). Waxy texture is a benchmark for Sémillon, so this was on target.

MC Ice (my husband) observed that the wine tasted like a winery smells -- like fermentation vats. Not sure why that the case with this particular wine (those smells are usually associated with the scent of yeast doing their business. I'm thinking this is the mark of a wine that could use more age and time to mellow, but that's just speculation) but I kind of agreed with him. To me, this wine didn't have a lot to it, but I liked the super creamy texture that was offset by a little tart acid.

Food: This is a simple wine and it should go with simple food. Raw oysters or light seafood with butter sauces would work -- scallops, flaky fish like grouper or flounder, and a light preparation of halibut. This isn't a wine with a lot of umph, so you want to make sure the food doesn't have too much going on or it will make the wine taste like water.

Drink or Down the Sink?: Drink. Is this one of the best wines I've ever had? No. But it was good and it went down very easily -- never a bad thing. It's a nice sipper -- simple and creamy. That said, for $16.99 I think I'd rather get a Bordeaux Blanc that's got the goodness of this wine with the punch of Sauvignon Blanc, that I love so much. Still, the wine peaked my interest and I'm going to try to seek out some older vintages of 100% Sémillon and see what I discover. Stay tuned.

If you have questions or have had a good Sémillon, share your thoughts in the comments!
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Château Tanunda's Dry Riesling: Australia's Well-Kept Secret

Quick! I say Australian wine, you say... Shiraz, right? (ok, or maybe Yellow Tail, but after that you'd say Shiraz, I bet).

In my experience, most people associate the wines from down under with fruity, boldly flavored red wines.

So what if I told you that in a pocket of the generally hot, drought-ridden Australian continent there are a few cool areas that can grow a grape that no one would ever expect to see here?

What if that grape was Riesling and what if the style was the complete opposite of the sweet stuff you may eschew?

If you think you know what Riesling tastes like and you've never had a dry Riesling, you're going to need to re-evaluate...and get yourself an Australian Riesling to see a dimension of this grape that you won't believe until you try it.

And...if you think I'm crazy, I'll admit that there's a little cognitive dissonance regarding Riesling, which is associated with cool places like Germany and Austria, growing in burning hot Australia, but it actually makes sense when you consider that immigrants from all over the world always bring their traditions and stuff with them to the place they settle. So it shouldn't be a surprise that when, in 1842, German settlers arrived in the Barossa Valley, fleeing religious persecution in their homeland, they brought with them the grape they knew best: Riesling.

Now, mind you, early versions sucked ass and were made into brandy because the grapes were planted in areas more suited for vines that like heat -- like Shiraz and Cabernet Sauvignon -- but the Germans and their Australian ancestors kept growing Riesling despite these nasty results (Germans are stubborn -- M.C. Ice is part German, so I speak from a place of knowledge). They persisted over the years even though Riesling is a very demanding vine that's easily rotted and needs to grow in cool climates where it can ripen slowly to build flavor and acid -- quite the opposite of the land available in the much of the warm Barossa Valley.

This attempt at growing Riesling rather unsuccessfully went on for a long, long time. But, after lots of experimentation and a refusal to give up on this aromatic, high acid, distinctive grape, the German-Aussie descendants, finally did it in the 80s and 90s when they planted the grape in cool micro-climates in the area. And they followed up the success with a stupendous decision to let the grape speak for itself by allowing it to get ripe and develop fruit flavors but NOT to leave sugar in the wine. The style that results is a dry, flavorful, citrusy wine with pure, crisp flavors, acidity, minerality, and massive aromas like lemon, lime, apricot, peach, and nectarine.

In cool pockets of the Barossa Valley, and especially in the nearby, high elevation Clare and Eden Valleys with long, cool autumns, Riesling is delicate yet bold, flavorful, and aromatic yet subtle, and one of the best matches with lighter or spicy food that I've had the pleasure of tasting.

I had the honor of presenting to the Southeast Regional Conference of the American Culinary Federation a little over a week ago, and the folks at Château Tanunda from the Barossa Valley were kind enough to donate their Riesling for the event (I had requested a dry Riesling as an example of a new trend in wine -- Riesling is the fastest growing white according to Nielsen, a ratings group). I also had discussed the grape in podcast #7 and when I tried this particular wine, I thought so highly of it, that I wanted to review this one to give a solid example of what I was talking about when I described a bone dry Riesling.

This is a wonderful wine made with 40% estate grown, old-vines Riesling, but I have to admit that I haven't yet experienced a bad Australian Riesling, so if you can't find this in your wine shop go for another brand and I don't think you'll be disappointed.

The Wine: Château Tanunda Grand Barossa Riesling
Where It's From: Barossa Valley, South Australia
The Grapes: 100% Riesling
Vintage: 2009
Price: $15

Color: An unoaked, no-sugar wine with lots of acid, grown in a cool climate is usually a super pale yellow color with a touch of green. Yup.

Smell: This could be a super-turn off to you or could be really great, but the first smell wafting out of this glass was gasoline/petrol. It's a characteristic that is typical in Riesling, but that you only get if it's grown in a cool enough climate. I love it and was so happy to smell it on this wine, especially since it was backed up with unbelievable fruit, flower, and nut aromas too. The wine smelled like fresh squeezed lime, dried peaches and apricots, gardenias, and like the almond paste they put inside an almond-filled croissant! It smelled a little like honey too. There was this excellent, very distinct steel/metal smell -- the wine was so aromatic and complex. I could sniff it all day long.

Taste: There were a few surprises offered up in the taste. Yeah, it tasted like the lime I smelled, but there was almost a sensation of green apple Jolly Rancher, and, strangely, the taste of raspberries (not really common in a white, I gotta say). Once inside my mouth and closer to my olfactory bulb (remember, your tongue doesn't "taste" things like fruit or flowers, it's your sense of smell that picks up on that once the stuff is inside your mouth, warmed, and closer to the bulb) it was a bit like pine or an evergreen forest. There was a great nectar-like essence to the wine even though it was BONE dry and had ridiculously high acid that had my mouth watering for ages after I swallowed it. It was such a fresh, light wine -- nothing like the cloying, sweeter versions of Riesling that I think most people associate with the grape.

Food Pairings: Ok, here's a strange one. We had it with farro, an Italian grain that is nutty and starchy and pretty delicious. The texture and taste of the grain and with the herbed goat cheese that we had on top combined so well with the citrusy acid of the Château Tanunda and everything tasted fruity, creamy, and herbal. I know it's an odd pairing because farro is a weird grain, but I would recommend pairing with something nut-encrusted (white fish) or with a grain or side that's a bit nutty to experience the yumminess of this combo. M.C. Ice could not get over how great this pairing was and it did my heart good to see his skinny butt going in for seconds just so he could have the farro/Aussie Riesling match.

Drink or Down the Sink?: Drink...all day long. I know Australian wine isn't winning any popularity contests these days, but you've got to buck the trend and try Château Tanunda or another Riesling from the Clare Valley or Eden Valley to experience this grape and wine in all its refinement, dryness, and perfection in pairing with food! Yum!

Please leave a comment and let me know what you think!! Readmore »»

Greg Norman: A Good, Cheap Australian Chardonnay

I'm ditching the limerick this week for a quickie review because it's related to the post from earlier this week...the poor poetry will return next week.

So, I talked a ton about Australian wine earlier this week in my post on Torbreck Shiraz (and even included my video debut!) and I thought I'd follow up that post with a review on a surprisingly solid Chardonnay from a big producer that I didn't expect to be good -- Greg Norman from the Eden Valley.

Eden Valley is about 1.5 hours from Adelaide in South Australia. It's adjacent to the famous Barossa Valley, which is known mainly for its Shiraz (Torbreck is here, BTW). Eden Valley, although less well known, was actually planted in 1842, the same year as the Barossa. The main difference: Eden is far from its name -- the Barossa is closer to perfection, for certain!

Located at higher altitude and with really bad and varied soil, which is great for viticulture, Eden Valley is much, much cooler than the Barossa. It's perfect for Riesling and Chardonnay (although further north in the valley it's hotter so quality Shiraz and Cabernet producers are here too, including Henschke, which makes the famous Hill of Grace). Here, the growing season is cooler and longer than Barossa, so mouth-stinging acid can develop alongside the fruit flavors in the grape, creating luscious dry Riesling and ripe yet balanced Chardonnay.

The biggest problem in this Valley, and why it hasn't enjoyed the recognition that the Barossa has had, is that with lots of different soil types, choosing the right kind of grape to grow is really hard -- this area isn't for the faint of heart. And there's less room for error here too -- although near the Barossa, this Valley is less developed, and it's lack of access to irrigation and extremely windy conditions mean lower crop yields and less finished wine. That's probably a good thing-- now and in the future we'll have fewer but better wines and those producers who do stick it out will make Eden Valley a consistent place for quality.

So onto the bottle in question...I must admit that I never thought that my $12 cheapy of a wine, the Greg Norman Eden Valley Chardonnay would be any good. I know that's mean, but as I said in the last post, my experience has been that below $20 you're S.O.L. in Australia. I have liked some of the pro-golfer's line before, but I usually find Australian Chard to be big, oaky, and overblown.

Not so on this one.

To prove an exception to my own rule that you need be buying Aussie wine above $20, here's a quick review...

The Wine: Greg Norman Chardonnay
Where It's From: Eden Valley, Australia
The Grapes: 100% Chardonnay
Vintage: 2008
Price: $11.99

Color: A nice dark hay color, but not as golden as most Australian Chardonnays. The lighter hue had the hamster turning the wheel in my head. Could this be a non-traditional Aussie Chard? Something I could deal with? A non-oak bomb? I was feeling hopeful when I bought it and saw that it was from Eden Valley. The color allowed me to maintain optimism.

Smell: The pleasant surprise continued. Rather than big oak, I got citrus notes with just a little bit of light caramel (which is from the oak). I've rarely had an Aussie Chard that's restrained, but this smelled more like an Asian pear and minerals, with a touch of melon and light oaky vanilla rather than a 2 by 4 plank, overripe apple, and pineapple, which is what I would expect.

Taste: For a $12 bottle of Chardonnay, I give Greg Norman props. The fruit, oak, and acid were in balance. You could taste a great wet stone flavor in the wine and those melon, lime, and pear flavors were prominent but not overblown. Albeit a little too much caramel and vanilla bean for me (too much oak), the strong acid and the wine's lower levels of alcohol (only 12.5% as opposed to 14%, which many Napa and Aussie Chards have) provided balance.

Food: This is challenging. It's a little big for delicate foods. I had it with pasta primavera and thought it tasted overly alcoholic. I would have liked this with halibut or some richer white fish, and think it would be a great match with a stronger chicken dish or roast turkey.

Drink or Down the Sink?: I would drink this again. It was so much better than what I thought it would be! If you have a friend/spouse/family member (not dog -- dogs can die from grape and wine consumption, FYI!) that loves oak and you hate it, this is your compromise wine! And for $12, that's pretty fab. Readmore »»

Torbreck Woodcutter's Shiraz: Australia's Proof of Greatness

At a tasting I did for some wonderful clients the other night, I poured an Australian Shiraz. It was well-received but then I got the question I get every time I pour Australian wines these days -- "Can you even get good Australian wine? I mean, isn't it all cheap, mass-produced stuff?" My heart broke a little for Aussie wine, but the question was completely appropriate and reflects the sad state of Aussie wine for a lot of wine drinkers these days.

So what happened to this giant of the wine industry that seems to have been usurped in popularity by stuff from South America, Spain, and even the rising stars of South Africa and New Zealand? Marketing happened. Too much marketing and not balanced enough marketing. Excess led to implosion.

Now, I've mentioned this before, but I have an MBA (go Tarheels -- I went to University of North Carolina!) and was a marketer/strategist for nearly 15 years. Even though wine is my passion and my career now, I am still a keen student of branding and marketing. So watching the rise and fall of Australia's marketing juggernaut has been particularly fascinating for me. My insights may be a little controversial, but I'm calling it like I see it.

As background, the Aussies started making wine in the 1820s - 1830s (although the first attempts were in the late 1700s when some dudes brought cuttings from South Africa -- another reason I think it's weird that we classify South Africa as New World. How can you be New World when you are established enough in the 1700s to be spawning whole industries on other continents? But I digress). This is when James Busby (the Scot pictured, left), who's termed the father of Australian wine, brought vine clippings from France and Spain. With this great raw material, the settlers figured out how to deal with the hotter than hell, sun-scorching (in most places) climate and got to business making some serious wines.

Unfortunately, like everywhere else in the wine world, in the 1870s that vine serial killer, phylloxera, hit. It's a bug that attacks the roots of vines, causing galls that result in mass murder of all things sacred in the vineyard and then multiplies like Charles Manson's disciples. In true American fashion, we caused the problem by spreading this louse from the Eastern US, but then we were also able to save the day by providing roots that were resistant to the bug and could have European grapes grafted on them without a change in flavor. It was a real boo/rah moment.

Whereas everyone else in the world picked up the memories of their shattered wine lives and decided to go back to making normal, awesome wine post-phylloxera, the Aussies got stuck and for about 100 years just made sweet wine, which they termed "stickies." Even their most famous and revered wine, Penfold's Grange, which is dry and unbelievably delicious was made under cover of night in the 1950s. Although Grange and a few others worked out ways to make dry wine, it wasn't until the 1980s that Australia as a whole had its coming out party.

It was then that the marketers got to work and Australia bet the farm on making high quality, inexpensive wine. Wine drinkers loved it. They bought in droves and the ride began. In the early 2000s exports increased 35 times what they were in the 1990s. Why? People around the world dug this stuff. It was fruity, mouth-filling, and most wasn't too complex...and it was cheap. What a great starter wine for people just getting into this kind of intimidating world!

The problems then arose (BTW, I kind of feel like a "Behind the Music" writer for VH1..."and then disaster struck when Ozzie Osbourne did an 8Ball one night..."). In the early 2000s every wine coming out of Australia was a so-called "Critter Wine" -- with the success of Yellow Tail I'm convinced that all the people that marketed those lameass Beanie Babies (oh yes, I did go there) lost their jobs when that craze was over and migrated to Australia to make up stupid critter names for wine brands. Pretty Penguin, Kuddly Koala, Wombat Wine, Kangaroo Kitsch (I making this up, but I'm not too far off) were manufactured to make us buy based on label. We all fell for it.

Then we all got over it. Many of us also got tired of these big, jammy wines. We wanted something more complex and interesting. We got our start in Australia, but we set our sights on Latin Lovers -- Spain, Chile and Argentina, and back on our old flames California, Italy, and France.

Uh-oh -- now what? Australia had staked its whole positioning on affordable wines with cute labels. Maybe they reasoned that Disney had been around forever with the cutsy thing. I mean couldn't Australia have that longevity based on their version of Mickey Mouse for wine? We voted with our dollars. No. The bloom was off the rose.

That's not to say that we were done with Australia, but it is to say that the exuberance was over and their industry started to feel it. I can tell you that the hot Australian brands at the large hulking winery that I used to work for didn't get the attention they used to. Money was redirected to Spanish and Argentinean brands, and back to funding successful California brands.

So that leads me back to the question I get frequently -- "Can you even get good Australian wine? I mean, isn't it all cheap, mass-produced stuff?"

And here's the answer. Although you can still get cheap, mass-produced stuff, Australians are not dumb. They know what happened and they are working to right the ship. They are focusing on re-branding. They are trying to let us know that they are dedicated to quality and to growing grapes in the best possible areas instead of everywhere there is available space that can be irrigated.

They're actually learning from their upper tier, I think. There are a few producers that have been leading the way and who haven't been slammed as badly as the lower tier producers. The success of Penfold's with Grange, Henschke with Hill of Grace, Clarendon Hills with Astralis, D'Arenberg with Dead Arm, and Torbreck with Run Rig show that first class wines can come from Australia and can command a premium. But they prove that care and feeding must be given.

Although I didn't have the Run Rig, I did have the delightful experience of tasting Torbreck's Woodcutter's Shiraz .

Before I get to the wine, I need to tell you that this is a freaking cool winery. David Powell, the founder and winemaker, was studying to be an accountant in Adelaide, following in his father's footsteps but he really loved wine. In his time off, he would go work at the wineries in the Barossa. The guy took his walkabout and wound up travelling to the great wine regions of Europe and even spending some time as a lumberjack in the Torbreck forests of Scotland (hence, the name). When he went back to Australia, he decided to go for it. He realized that there were a ton of neglected Barossa Valley properties that had old vines on them but weren't being maintained. He approached the owners to ask if he could work the land. Powell did this at a few farms and his first vintage launched in 2003, with great results. Torbreck is now iconic for the Barossa -- all hand-harvested wines that are highly rated and classic for the region.

So what does a good wine from Barossa taste like, here's what I thought of their base tier wine, the Shiraz:
The Wine: Torbreck Woodcutter's Shiraz
Where It's From: Barossa Valley, Australia
The Grapes: 100% Shiraz
Vintage: 2008
Price: $21.99

Color: Like most Australian Shiraz this wine was not shy on showing its color. It was nearly opaque and blood red. It stained the glass, it was so rich in color. The wine was nearly vampiric in appearance (any other Twi-hards out there? Sorry for the reference). This amount of color usually indicates big flavor, so I braced myself for the smell and taste of this.

Smell: Absolutely typical for a Barossa Valley Shiraz. Rich oak and ripe boysenberry just flooded out of the glass after a good swirl. There was a prune or raisin note to the wine, and lots of alcohol burn -- a cilia singer. There were these unbelievable black pepper, licorice, and bacon aromas (all from the grape -- Syrah/Shiraz often develops these delicious smells with time). The aromas imparted from the oak were unreal. Warm cinnamon and nutmeg, rich roasted coffee beans, savory herbs cooked in butter, and an aroma of maple or tree sap just made my mouth water. Complex aromas usually = unreal wine.

Taste: Torbreck did not disappoint (nor did I expect it to, given the reputation of the producer and the fact that they care so much about their wines!). Black cherry, boysenberry, and even a little black raspberry fruit flavors were so awesomely balanced with a bitter chocolate, nutmeg, cinnamon, coffee thing. But what made this wine so complete and different from a lot of Australian Shiraz -- it actually had a great balance of mouth-watering acid and mouth-drying tannins. What a beautiful thing.

Food: Here's a perfect match for roasted and grilled meats, and heavy beef or mushroom dishes. I do also think it will be equally at home with Mexican, greasier food, and anything from the barbecue. A really versatile food wine.


Drink or Down the Sink?: Drink it! This wine is evidence that Australia is not all about cheap 'critter wine' or Yellow Tail. When you get a quality producer who takes times with the vines and knows the land, they can produce a wine that proves Australia's future is in boutique wine that is made well and has a beauty and style all its own.

PS -- You may want to decant this wine (just pour it in a glass and leave it out) for an hour or so before drinking. Although I loved it, I found it was better the day after I opened it!
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My Week of Shiraz...Wine #1: Hewitson Ned & Henry's 2007, Just Ok

Australia is clearly one of the great winegrowing regions and the Aussie wine companies have done a hell of a job marketing themselves as the Shiraz capital of the planet. If we were playing wine dork word association and I said Australia, there's a good chance you would say Shiraz immediately... Now that's great marketing. And it's also often great wine.

I received a shipment of wine from a PR company that was all Syrah/Shiraz from Australia and South Africa and I'll be reviewing them over the next few days and share with you my opinions (as I've said before, I don't alter my take on the wine just because it was sent gratis!). I love Syrah/Shiraz, so this will be a completely hedonistic experience for me, and I'm looking forward to sharing it with you!

Before we get started on the review of the Hewitson Ned & Henry's 2007 Shiraz from Australia, I want to touch briefly on the whole Syrah/Shiraz issue. If you didn't already know this, they are the same exact grape. Yes, I know they taste different but that's only because, generally speaking, the names are used to connote different winemaking styles and different regional origins. Like twins separated at birth, the wines are similar but also really different from one another. If you still don't believe me, think about a Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand versus one from California -- very different wines, but they have the same name. We actually luck out with the Shiraz/Syrah thing because if you prefer one style over the other, you can pay attention to the name and get what you are looking for rather than risking buying something you don't like.

So I'm blabbing on about the name but I still haven't defined the difference from a taste perspective. Here goes:

• I find Syrah, which is usually from France or the US, to be more subtle, with an earthy, barnyard (sounds gross, tastes good), and dried herb smell and flavor. It's pretty powerful stuff -- very tannic (mouth-drying) and complex (you can use lots of words to describe it and still have more to say!).
  
• Shiraz, on the other hand, tends to be from Australia or South Africa and is usually very fruity, soft, and goes down the hatch easily. Not too complicated, it's a good weeknight wine and one that drinkers who are new to the varietal really love. The expensive ones are so fruity that they are often hard to pair with food, but are knockouts on their own.
  

Because someone recently asked me this question, I'll also bring up Petite Sirah. This is a completely different grape, also called Durif. You'll find Petit Sirah to be exclusively from California. It's kind of bitter, plummy, and less complex than Syrah/Shiraz, which is layered and rich in character. (I know I just dissed Petit Sirah, but I don't really dig it in comparison to Syrah. Sorry, gotta be honest).

Ok, so now with all that information, let's get to the wine at hand:


The Wine: Hewitson, Ned & Henry's Shiraz
Where It's From: Barossa Valley, Australia
The Grapes: It's mostly Shiraz, but the wine notes say there's some Mourvedre in it too.
Vintage: 2007
Price: $21.99


Color: What a color! This is just what I expect in Australian Shiraz: Dark ruby with purple undertones. All that sun down under develops lots of pigment and ripeness in grapes, so the wine is almost opaque and really viscous. What does that mean? Color like that usually points to the fact that its going to be a rich one.

Smell: All fruit and flowers, all the time. Again, sort of typical of an Australian Shiraz, this wine smelled like a bowl of purple fruit. Blackberry, black plum, boysenberry -- it was a juicy sort of smell. MC Ice and I both noticed a sort of perfumed, floral note like dried rose petal. Also, and I'm not sure why this is, but there was a chlorine-like note to the wine, kind of like a pool, which was a little unsettling (although we still drank it heartily, of course).

I was surprised at the absence of other stuff I usually like in Shiraz -- black pepper, leathery scents were not in this nose of this wine at all. I stopped being surprised when I looked at the vintage notes: 2007 was ROUGH for Barossa Valley and it explained why this wine was less interesting than I usually find Barossa Shiraz. Drought, frost, and heavy rain really affected the Shiraz and it's obvious in this wine that the vintage suffered from being small and lame (fewer grapes = fewer blending possibilities so you kind of get what you get -- a one note wine).

Taste: My first impression was that the wine was really chocolaty. All the luscious fruit I smelled was hanging around in the scenery, but not on center stage. Happily the stuff missing on the nose appeared on the palate -- light black pepper, leather, and even something like tobacco showed up in the wine. Strangely yet pleasantly, I also tasted some musky cantaloupe-like thing.

I think more than flavor though, texture dominated the wine. It was super soft and delicate. There were good tannins, but the wine lacked some acid so I think it was on the verge of flabby but not quite there (this explains to me why the winemaker added the Mourvedre -- this powerful, flavorful, dark, tannic grape, added the structure to the Syrah, which seems to have needed it!).

Food: This is a "brown food" wine, if you know what I mean. Meats, mushrooms, hearty stews -- that's what this needs. If you do buy it, be careful that the flavors of the food are rich, yet delicate. The wine could easily be overpowered by something with too much punch. I did eat it with sauteed mushrooms and it was fine, but had I put in more garlic or made my food more complex the wine would have really fallen flat.

Drink or Down the Sink?: I can't say down the sink, but I wouldn't buy this wine for this price. I think it's got promise but this vintage just misses the mark for me. Maybe a different year would produce a better result, but I think for the price you could do better. I'm open to trying future vintages of this wine and when I do, I'll let you know what I think!

I'm hoping the other bottles of Shiraz I got in this shipment are slightly more pleasing, to say the least. Tune in again to see if my Shiraz-fest meets my expectations! Readmore »»

Blah. A boring Australian Blend: Terra Barossa

Ok, so I have a propensity for European wines (aka, the Old World). I like the complexity. I like the dirt. I like the minerals. But I do appreciate a big fruit bomb from time to time (three delicious words: Clarendon Hills Grenache). But it takes an awesome New World Wine for me to fall in love...so I say to Terra Barossa, "um, I think we're better off as friends..."

The Wine: Terra-Barossa Cuvee (Thorn-Clarke is the producer), Estate Grown
Grape: It's a blend. I would guess Cab, Shiraz, and probably some Merlot or Cab Franc. I looked on the wine notes and it doesn't specify for this vintage.
Vintage: 2006
Price: $9.98 in Atlanta

Where it's from: Here's where it all gets murky. So the wine says that it's a product of Australia, but it also lists "Barossa Wines" somewhere else on the label. The Barossa Wines placement on the label looks like its part of the brand name. Quite confusing and there's a big distinction between Austalian Wine (usually bad) and the Barossa wine (usually fab). I should report them to the gov't...not that they would do anything about it...

Normal Description: This wine is uber dark, but lighter around the edges. Blends are cool animals -- colors are always pretty awesome to analyze (although, caveat emptor -- color normally doesn't say much about the wine's flavor). It's got a ton of sediment in it but don't be scared off by the particles collecting at the bottom of your glass. Embrace the nature...remember that wine is an agricultural product. Young, tannic wines can sometimes throw sediment. You can decant it if it will make you feel better.

I'm sure one of you is going to give me a hard time for turning into a Southerner, but I swear that this wine smells like fried chicken or fried turkey. It's got game (like chicken not basketball), for sure...not unpleasant but game-y and slightly greasy-smelling. What can you expect? That's Aussie Shiraz for you. I picked up cinnamon, coffee, and some unidentified perfume-y odor too, but the prominent scent was still chik-fil-et, despite all the second layer of normal wine smells.

So the other thing I should mention about this wine -- I have no cilia left in my nose. 14%+ alcohol will burn your nose (great for men. I guess you can throw away the clippers and just use this wine to take care of that issue).

Flavors were not what I expected and, honestly, not very good. Besides some acid and tannin there were hints of sour cherry, some slight vanilla and cinnamon. Mostly the wine was tart and not very fruity OR minerally. Blah.

Got snap or is it crap?: CRAP. There's so much other stuff out there to try. Spend your $10 on something tastier. I guarantee you can easily find something to top this for the same price or better.

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