Accidentally typed Soms of Eden, appropriate typo perhaps as this is just the sort of real Barossa that I like to drink. A few years rest in the bottle have rounded and sweetened the beautifully rich flavours. Blackberry, perfumed with cherry, plums and aniseed underpinned by Barossa carbon and coal dust. A veritable symphony that swells with deeply meaningful fruit in its last movement. The blend again is more than the sum of its parts, Grenache the treble, Shiraz the middle and spicy too, Mourvèdre the bass. Warm, rich and generous Barossa at its best. Old Joe in the hat on the label would be as happy as if that were a jazz roll up.
14.50% alcohol. Screwcap. About $27 on release.
Organic and Biodynamic Grenache for the most part and some Syrah. Opens with a whiff of matchstick reduction which happily lifts to show the brightest raspberries and sweet green Mediterranean shrubbery. Really pure scents and flavors, bouncy across the tongue as fresh mouthwatering acidity and a rasp of fine skin tannin balance things up. It takes some patience to let it sit in the glass but the reward is some extra depth of stewed cherries, aniseed and a calm earthy energy. Zan was the nickname of the maker’s father. He’d be proud to see it on the label of what the importers call a high country freshness from the western slopes of the Rhône, both kinds of C&W good.
14% alcohol. Cork. Lucky win at auction.
Sigh, last of the Paris buys worth a mention. From a caviste tucked away on a one way street close to Place de la Republique, overdue a visit and full of good choices like Richaud and Gramenon next to each other on the Rhône shelf. Despite some reservations about the former’s alcohol levels and ripeness in recent years, Marcel Richaud has often won this heart with the sheer depth of some great fruit turned into a rich, deeply flavoured mouthful. This one’s from a tricky hot year and neatly avoids overdoing it. Dry leathery skin flavours that seem almost Barossa like lead into still crunchy raspberry and cherry bright fruit. Maybe it’s the Carignan helping out the Grenache and Syrah with some good acidity? Real fruit weight, clean and naturally satisfying tannin and cut, honestly tasty. My visit on a atmospherically gloomy late afternoon in November interrupted the carving of a grand wheel of good Comte. Happy to stop and share warm thoughts about good bottles. Bonne adresse, as they Parisiens say. Delicatessen Cave, 136 rue Amelot 3er. Another visit please.
14.50% alcohol. Cork. 12 euros.
There seems to be an increasing number of bio or organic wines on French supermarché shelves including this one from Monoprix for less than 8 euros. Sometimes Grenache seems at its most delicious when it’s only just been in a bottle for a few months. This is all clean, pungent and musky red fruit in a good way with oodles of spice and flowers. Sort of thing you’d love in a carafe in one of those imaginary Gallic bistros. Actually improved over 24 hours, beyond which it wasn’t going to last. Sweet Grenache given legs and some depth by the usual suspects of Syrah and Mourvèdre. Looks like it may be an own brand bottling as there’s not much more info available than what’s on the label. Makes trudging round the stupor market almost a pleasure.
13.50% alcohol. Cork. 8 euros.
Bilibis refers to the Roman town that imposed itself in Aragón around the time mighty Caesar Augustus clobbered the locals and thence led them to ask in a Life of Brian way, “what has the Pax Romana done for us?” Perhaps viticultural techniques that led to this beautifully polished wine. Very ripe but so suave red and black fruits lifted by a blackberry and violet mouth perfume. Verging on the extra deep. Judiciously inserted toast and mocha oak with no visible seams showing. Tannins are soft and ripe but still firmed by comfortable acidity. Crafted more than engineered perhaps. In vino veritably delicious.
14.50% alcohol. Cork. 8.50 euros of great value from the extra knowledgeable Alberto at Enoteca Khantaros in Zaragoza.
Gruñón means something like grumpy old man in Spanish, the perfect wine for this blog then. More Garnacha from the hills around Borja, this time blended with some whole bunch Shiraz planted thereabouts from old Barossa clones it seems. This is apparently a side project for some of the Bodegas Alto Moncayo team. One of their members being the very patient and generous with both time and knowledge, Chris Ringland who has more than some experience in handling very ripe old vine fruit. The Gruñón in the bottle opened with a woody herb whole bunch savour with ripe cherry, blackberry and a touch of anise under scored by that rocky cut of Aragón. Second and especially third days of oxygen exposure and the whole bunch sank into the rich dark fruit and luxurious texture. The oak hardly poked its head above the fruit and bunchyness particularly compared to the serious Alto Moncayo threesome. One common thread being still fresh fruit and settled natural acidity at such rich levels of ripeness and alcohol. No sign of dried Christmas cake fruit and dullness here. If you’re interested in place and grape, notwithstanding any previous prejudices about ripeness and alcohol, present yourself in old Borja with an open mind and, crikey, will they look after you. Bit less grumpy after this.
15.50% alcohol. Cork. 16.90 euros.
From the Spanish DO of Almansa on the south east edge of the La Mancha plateau. Looks like another bit of Spain where Grenache or at least its progeny thrive in dry harsh conditions. It seems this is roughly 80% Garnacha Tintorera or Alicante Bou(s)chet which Jancis’ indispensable Wine Grape bible reports is a cross between Grenache and Petit Bouschet, itself a cross between the notorious Aramon and a Tenturier which gets a bit lost in ampelographical obscurity, phew. The rest is boring old Syrah. Notwithstanding any anorak grape obsession, this is simply clean, deeply flavoured and rich yet balanced. Bright rich raspberries, plums, sweet spices and a rocky drag. Stayed amazingly fresh and unoxidised over four days. Terrific poise between fruit, acidity and just ripe tannin. Not fantastically subtle but so drinkable. In such a dry climate organic viticulture must be an economic proposition, as this is not much more than $20 imported into Australia with all those ludicrous ad valorem taxes. About the same price as mineral water in Spain perhaps?
13% alcohol. Cork. $22.