My work is subject to copyright, however, and the redistribution—sharing—of the reviews and stories published here is withheld without permission. You can find more detail about this sort of stuff—and about I.P. licences and republishing rights—here. In the meantime, thanks for your consideration and please enjoy your wines of choice in moderation. Tim White
Glistening and sparkly this: there’s both candied peel plum pudding fruit, and interleaving more juicy, pippy forest berries. Gets deeper and more broody as it sits; serious depth here as it builds gradually in the glass. So there’s an impression of density and brightness. Cedariness too, flake tobacco, some liquorice—adored cabernet sauvignon characteristics all. Tastes pretty oomphy—fruit depth and intensity—but with that mouthwatering edge. Melting, comfy, smooth, fine-grained tannins. Lots of juice and mixed peel and dried/saturated, blue/black fruits in here. Not super-edgy or bracing in the tannin finish department—which I anticipated it to be from the nose—but beautifully balanced and cuddly in a most good way. 94(95)/100 (e) - 8/10 (h) - 😋😋 - $45 cellar direct, even though the current vintage has rolled to 2023. It’s also available for $34.99 from Hurley Cellars, Frewville. Will evolve for at least twenty years and live for so much longer. But it can—and should—be enjoyed now. Just give it a slop around in an accommodating vessel and let it gather some air.
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Smells most lovely this (so it’s already getting a high hedonic hit from me 😃). Smacks of cane berry juiciness and hot brick dryness. There’s gentle woodsiness of the deciduous kind, a sniff of anise, soused black cherries. Then a waft of assam. Intense and mouth-watering—sour cherry soused cherry—fruit on the palate. Melty, carbon paper tannins which run long, as does the intense sour cherry, dried peel, juicy blackcurrant and loganberry pippiness. Fruit and tannin pitched on exactly the same length. Mouth aroma wafts of wagyu bresaola and havana cigar leaf. A transitory bergamot rind character too and some dried blue vein cheese crumble. This is most sublime. 96(97)/100 (e) - 10/10 (h) - 😋😋😋 - $108 cellar direct. The Gaia has now rolled to ’23 on the winery website—which is also a fabulous wine by the way—but there is still some out there in retail land. Grosset does still offer magnums of the ’22 directly for $236.
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Oyster, iced nectarine kernel. Fine, subtle matchstrike also. Something iced bisque crustacean smelling about it; a touch of slightly resinous herb—rosemary—as it opens up. This smells absolutely lovely. Bracing ozone, marron juices and fab complexity. Not quite as oomphy as I was anticipating in the mouth, although it lingers long, and evolves in an understated and classy, controlled way across the palate. Pale yellow peel and iced dusted white nectarine. Subtle flint mouth-aromas. So many delicious things to suck on here. And it will grow over the next five years. 95(96)/100 (e) - 10/10 (h) - 😋😋😋 - $60 cellar direct. This is no longer available for purchase at Stoney Rise on-line store, but if you take a visit to the cellar door there are a few bottles available.
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Fruit mince pie filling, complex kumquatty candied peel. Sourdough crustiness among compressed baby pines (some Mendoza or P58 in here?). Swan Vesta match-strike*, although not over-the-top. This smells serious, and seriously good. And the fruit just grows and grows as it warms and opens. Dehydrated pine and peach skin. Dried fig too. Lands on the tongue with intense fruit tightness—so intense—with powerful textural artefact and fruit density. Flintiness and sourdough crustiness adding mouth-aroma complexity also, but not at the expense of—or above—the concentrated fruit. So much going on in here. Deep, compressed stone fruit: both the flesh and iced, crushed kernel. Lime thyme peel among the mouth aromas that linger. As you may gather this an off the charts—beautifully flavourful—complex, multi-dimensional chardonnay. Right up there with the 2019, which is a great chardonnay of any provenance. And this is how it tastes now: so it will be sublime to revisit again in a few more years. 97(99)/100 (e) - 10/10 (h) - 😋😋😋 - $150 cellar direct. Needless to say the Giaconda online offer has been and gone, but this will be on lauded restaurant wine lists and on a few retailers shelves around the country.
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Classic Hoddles Creek iced pebbles and ground, iced fennel seed dust. Crab apple and a touch of baby pines too. (By which I mean sharp, sweet, mouthwatering Thai baby pineapples, not pineole scented tiny pine trees). Cucumber rocket too. With air and warmth it gets plumper and fleshier. Has white compressed nectarine on the palate too, and sweet-sharp baby pineapple aplenty again, with toothsome chew and extract. This is seriously good in the mouth. Has great texture and a quartziness. Compressed Cox's apple and white peach skin lingers. So darn good. 91(92)/100 (e) - 8/10 (h) - 😋😋 - $19.99 cellar direct. And then at the reveal you learn it’s $20! What a bargain.
The sticker attached to this tasting sample of this wine read: ‘Last year of Chardonnay from Lonestar vineyard as it’s been sold. Next year is a new challenge.’
A phone call to Franco d’Anna, whose number is also always on the stickers he attaches to media samples, yielded a bit more information as to whether there was any Mendoza or P58 chardonnay at Lone Star (the question prompted by my observation of the baby pine character in the review above).
And it turns out to be clone P58. Lone Star is a few kilometres to the west of Hoddles Creek Estate's Syberia vineyard. If you click this link tagging Syberia and then turn on the Google Maps satellite layer, you’ll see where I’m talking about.
This smells gently terra cotta dusty and builds, blackcurrant and raspberry leaf. So pretty cane berries and red brick dust. Some bay leaf cineole too, although a component not a feature. Gentle on the tongue, with raspberry pippiness and then that dry dusty terra cotta character materialising in a tannin sense too—mingled with light mocha. While not exactly long lasting on the palate, it has width and the tannins break well with a dab of bitters at the close. All components seamlessly mingle, so it’s delightfully balanced in flavour, acid, tannin. There's a bursting ‘fool-like'* pippiness to the fruit. Some crusty spelt pastry. This is fun. 91/100 (e) - 8/10 (h) - 😋😋 - $19.99 cellar direct. You’d be hard pushed to find another ‘real’ pinot at this price I reckon. By real pinot I mean one which actually tastes like a red wine with genuine, deliciously extracted tannin.
For a backstory about the info stickers that Franco d’Anna attacthes to Hoddles Creek tasting samples click here. Contuining d’Anna’s history of concision and understatement this one read: ’90% from Hoddles which is something we've been aiming for. Just gives us more control.’
Specifically the estate portion of this pinot is from the new plantings that d’Anna has established across three seperate blocks to the South-East of the original estate vineyard, which is located behind the winery. You’ll find them tagged here.
*I’m returning back far to my childhood in the country of my birth with this reference. You’ll find a recipe for proper raspberry fool here, but the ones I’m thinking of were these little pre-made, foil-sealed pots which were packed with this mousse-textured, cream and raspberry treat, which were simaultaneously intense, refreshing, and sweet-sharp.
Unless otherwise indicated all wines reviewed on MY site have been assessed in half-blind, peer-group line-ups. You’ll observe that I publish two ratings for each wine reviewed. The score out of 100 (e) is my ‘empiric’ evaluation, based on the palate memory filing cabinet I’ve accumulated having tasted many thousands of wines over a few decades. The second score out of 10 is my ‘hedonic’ (h) score, which is much more personal, and indicates how much I ‘like’ a wine. I believe that the two marking propositions provide a more nuanced approach to ‘rating’ wine. You’ll find detail about the distinction of my hedonic x empiric evaluations here. Any emojis I append should be self-explanatory. 😀
This smells like a bit of fun. Has plum skin and then rosehip pomegranate, gentle old white pepper. Autumn gold plum. A transitory sniff of galangal. Gentle in the mouth and with more of the rosehippy thing going, plus dried peel, a succulent plum skin and pomegranate core, and fine sandy Grenache tannins. Delightful dustiness and some alcohol warmth which sits perfectly with the weight of the fruit. Mouth-sucking and flinty, evolving wetter, carbon paper tannins with air. Valedictory mouth-aroma wafts of jerky too—of the beef kind. This is a most tasty medium to full-bodied grenache, with just the right mix of seriousness and ebullience. 93(94)/100 (e) - 8/10 (h) - 😋😋 - $40 cellar direct.
Now I’ve met Bryn Richards on a number of occasions over the years. But I didn’t get to see tasting samples of the Grant Nash trio until after a chance encounter with Bryn on the pavement outside Latteria (on Hutt St, Adelaide). Long simmered stock.
This smells sharp. Sharp in a piercing, intense fruit sense. And sharp, as in smart and stylish. There’s autumn gold plum skin fruit and brick dust, becoming more wet terra cotta as it opens. Then plum pudding, carbon paper, bramble. A quartzy, pomegranate shimmer too. Fruit which smells like it’s grown in red, rocky earth. Then, on the palate—in the mouth—it’s bitter orange rind tense, becoming more crystalised peel and other fruit mince pie filling semi-dried things as it opens up. But it’s the pure—incredibly long—tannin textures that spellbind as much as the fruit flavours. They’re fine, dense and super-dry, and yet sparkle with the fruit carried within. So the fruit energy lingers and doesn’t dry. Has juice, chew, and melty rosehip running long across the tongue, and then mouth-aroma wafts of crumbled red rock and just moist jamon Iberico. This tastes pretty special. 97(98)/100 (e) - 10/10 (h) - 😋😋😋 - $85 cellar direct.
You may be thinking that my crazy high score for this wine is perhaps influenced by my aforementioned close relationship with Steve Pannell. Well no, it isn’t, as is my usual process, the wine was assessed in a small half-blind line-up with other Aussie grenaches of some reputation, all from 2022. I know I labour this point, but it’s the way and work and not many others writing and reviewing do so. Which is not meant to sound sanctimonious. Incidentally, run away if you’re one of those who expects McLaren Vale grenache to taste like gently spicy, thin, acidic, raspberry cordial.
Has both a tight, vital, smashed iced oyster shell primal thing, and then a fruitier—nourishing, encouraging—sourdough starter sweet fruit character blooming too. Gets sheep’s milk blue vein and transitory white pepper. Celery salt. Smells like a bit bubbly base Blanc de Blancs-like—so, white blackberry apple. No complaints. And tastes likewise, which is not quite what I was expecting, but so welcome. Baked, peel-stuffed, apple blackberry plumpness, which makes it—well—tastes cuddly. Edgy peel dried grapefruit too, among phenolic chew and mouth-sucking acid density. Generous fruit wise and such a fun surprise. We need more white wines like this. Generous, direct, with softness and bite, and mouth-filling flavour. There’s complexity too, and it’s lovely you don't to study too hard to find it. 94/100 (e) - 9/10 (h) - 😋😋😋 - $33 cellar direct.
This wine—the ’22 release—will always remind me of Chauncy.
Has a lustrous, glacé straw glow—if you can conjure up such a thing—and then builds lush, deep apricot. The former derived from roussanne methinks, the latter emphatically viognier. Glacé corella pear too and smells more intensely stone fruited as it sits, but not overwhelmingly so. There’s chamomile and transitory just-mown grass adding cut. Pure, chilled panna cotta wobbly with an oaty biscuit base. This promises to be a fun ride. Super-pure viognier expression, in a gently dehydrated—poached and gently caramelised— apricot way, and then super-slinky textured across the tongue, yet also vital and brisk, with mouth-aroma wafts 0f patined, sapid oak crustiness. In short: this tastes bloody gorgeous—what a palate! Will grow too I reckon, in the short term at least. 95(96)/100 (e) - 10/10 (h) - 😋😋😋 - $35 cellar direct. This is one you drink. Old school in the best kind of way.
This reminds me—and I’ve got on enough in years, to say this—of the old days. That period after Australian winemakers got over an unhealthy obsession with new, small format oak; but before there developed (a still prevailling) preoccupation with harevsting grapes, before flavour development—and complexity—that we (can) do so well.
The wines reviewed on this site have been rigorously assessed in half-blind, peer-group line-ups, unless otherwise indicated. They are appended with both an empiric (e) and hedonic (h) rating. As well as an emoji rating for good measure 😀. For explanatory detail about my tasting process and scoring system please click here.