Despite a love for things Spanish and there being a bit of fuss about Canary Islands’ wine, I’m pretty sure this is my first island bottle. Sort of another in a theme, as the last long look at a region was Etna and this comes from an island volcano too, albeit a bit less active. Reading about the islands, it seems the indigenous vine Listán Negro doesn’t crop up anywhere else now, it may have originated in Castilla or not depending on the source. There’s some considerable history as the Canaries have avoided phylloxera and vines are planted on original roots. Shakespeare’s Sir Toby Belch suggests someone is in need of a cup of canary in Twelfth Night. I’m a bit late catching up. A Jancis article says these vines are amongst the highest altitude in Europe although the latitude puts the islands closer to Africa. All intriguing really and so to the cup of canary itself. Initially a bit pongy with sulphidic edges and a bit of a natty waft. Just medium to light in extract. Settling down into reductive cherry, woody stem spice, leather and a very ashy, crushed rock landslide. Same in the mouth, the red fruits a bit compacted by stem, reduction and really dry stonewall tannin. Not sure it’s all pleasure. There’s some argument amongst wine lovers suggesting great wine is better without complicated cooking or any food at all. In this case, this ungainly cup took off with a bowl of sweetly tomato laden pasta sauced with pesto Trapanese. Happily a food enhancing structure and a mouthwatering savour took over and cleared the way for some fragrant red fruits and dusty savour. All the doubtful bits dropped away. After a bit of uncertainty about winemaking and enjoyment, three quarters of the bottle disappeared in the time it takes two people to eat dinner. There’s always a new wine adventure without leaving the table.
12.5% alcohol. Diam I think? $? no idea as it was part of a swap for some of the yearly Wendouree delivery. I always seem to do so well and end up with delicious things I wouldn’t normally go for.
94 or 95 points with food, hard to say without. It’s me not you, dear wine.
Cognitive Bottle Therapy 