Steel yourself.

I was lucky enough to try something for the first time the other day. There were no fireworks or fanfare, no health warnings or check-ups and certainly no insurance papers to sign. This one crept up on me from out of the blue. Diatom Kazaoto chardonnay. The 2011.

This is the first time I've had a US steel barrel fermented chardonnay with absolutely no oak treatment. I cast my mind back, but I couldn't think of one time I've had anything similar. Wheelbarrow full of oak chips in dumped in a stainless steel barrel? Been there. Suspicion of coconut essence? Done that. Kazaoto achieves what it does with intensity and balance, and what it does is satisfy.
On first impression the wine looks a little dull. Most wines at this price point have a brightness to them. Pastel yellow to icterine. Never mind, onwards to the nose which is the paragon of cleanliness. Lime,  artichoke, whetstone and and a herbal component I thought a little like parsley. The aromas are lifted by a dynamic, vivacious acid component.
The palate is simple, elegant and lengthy. Sweetened citrus and a stemmy, resinous character give this wine a very fresh character. Minerals revealing themselves on the mid-palate. Not quite flinty, but the acid has an angularity to it that suggest another year in the cellar would reap rewards. The effect smooths out afterwords. Leaving a persistent, uncluttered flavour of green stone fruit and candied citrus zest, this wine intrigues deeply for something so ostensibly simple.
If you're looking into something new, look into a steel barrel. You never know what you might find.

Brown ale money.

Here's a long lasting obsession of mine. Value Bordeaux. I have a bee in my bonnet on this matter due to it's difficulty. You simply can't trust a name in Bordeaux, you simply have to find a wine critic you trust and go with their recommendation. Sometimes, though, I come across something that seems to be too good to turn down and buy blind.

A very reasonable price at your local Liquor Mountain gets you this. A very nicely balanced Bordeaux.
Upon opening this is dense and dark. Very closed at first with that coiled graphite hardness on the nose that bespeaks young Cabernet Sauvignon, this shows very little of the supple flashiness of the Merlot content. It's cool, blue fruited palate is short and rather austere, reminding me of the bramble fruits you'd pick not to eat, but for jam making. 
It was only on the third day, after abandoning this to the fridge in hopes of a recovery, that this started to make any sense at all. Showing much more poise than previously the tannins had unravelled to reveal a red carpet of Merlot, stained with aromatic dark berries. Heady stuff with an intense aroma. "I can smell it from here!" said one, 3 feet from the glasses. The length had improved a little too. Still no marathon runner, the stamina gave me a very good impression of the ageing potential of such a sprightly young thing.
This is excellent stuff to go with grilled meats and strong sauces. You can throw some spice at it as well. Just remember to decant it for a day before drinking.

The self writing blog entry.

Sometimes you really don't have to use much imagination to write about wine. A few flowery adjective and a strong opinion or two will usually do the trick. Sometimes, however, the articles write themselves. Let's see if I can find anything profound to say about Chateau Le Sartre 2010

OK, that's the last stab at any philosophy gags. You can tell from the label, the hint of tobacco smoke, the chic 40s font, that the producers aren't shy about evoking images of the bespectacled French philosopher. They really don't need to. The power of this wine is obvious to anyone.

Bright and yet dense in its hue, the wine appears vividly shimmering in the glass. Lighter in texture and with faster legs than it's colour suggest, it's a bit of charmer straight away.

Tropical palate at first with a good hit of passion fruit and lime. The length impressed.

The longer it was opened the more the flavours broadened. The passion fruit remained but now backed with a hard, crysteline lemon acidity. The flavours in this wine were well balanced and the emergence of a little oak was a welcome addition.

This wine comes highly recommended as it not only impressed me, but three other weather beaten wine enthusiasts. They all liked different aspects of it and if that's not profound, then I don't know if profundity really exists...

Dancing about architecture. Writing about wine

As an avid listener of BBC Radio 4's Thinking Allowed, I was reminded on this weeks podcast of an enigmatic aphorism.

"Talking about music is like dancing about architecture."

Surely all I do on this blog is totally analogous to the aforementioned architectural boogie. Why do we do it? Why do we read it? Does it have any merit to write about wine? To commit hundreds of words to paper or screen only to edit our soul down for consumption, the secondary consumption (for reading about wine can in no way be a substitute for for drinking it) of a listless group of netizens killing time waiting for the UPS guy to deliver their latest fix of whatever takes their fancy.

At it's worst any kind of critical writing is breathing in second hand tobacco smoke. At a slightly higher grade it can be filled with jargon, in jokes and references designed to impress a credulous audience. Only at it's finest can wine writing fool the reader into the almost impossible. Assimilating the thoughts of the writer as if they were their own.

The basis of communicating about our chosen subject can come from a variety places. Other fields of human endeavour have a number of stimuli. I can only accurately talk about myself. Hopefully I'll find that I'm not totally full of shit.

1) Have some self respect
Nobody likes to get caught out by as lack of knowledge in their chosen field. Even an honest "I don't know" can leave oneself feeling rather crestfallen. An uncomfortable silence is mortifying. Setting yourself up as a blogger on any subject will, in the successful candidate, engender a a burning quest for knowledge and self development that drives the writer forward. This will not only help in avoiding nasty mishaps of the "I'm sorry I haven't a clue" variety, but also in the long run help develop the writers ability to entertain as much as inform. Am I boring you? I hope not. I'd hate that. Anyone who sets themselves up to criticise must hold themselves to the most rigourous standards, if not in the ultimate level of knowledge one has at any time, but in the desire to broaden and deepen their overall skill set as quickly and effectively as possible. It's a matter of self respect.

2) Whack passivity
With cricket bat. Just consuming is a de-humanising experience. I think it necessary to draw the line between things we consume from necessity and things we consume for love. I've no doubt that somewhere on the Internet there's a blog dedicated to white sliced bread or toilet tissue, but the people who write those are nuts. No, to fully engage intellectually with an interest you must not only consume, but also engage. This might be producing in, working for, trading in or educating about your chosen subject. Even if this merely means keeping a diary of the different hair care products we've tried or writing a letter of complaint about a shoddily produced yoghurt, it's the kind of activity that raises us above the level of consumer statistic. Engage the gray matter even if, like yours truly, you don't have a particularly large amount to  power up.

3) Drip, drip, drip.
While trickle down economics might be a broadly discredited theory in the modern world, trickle down knowledge might have a little more substance to it. All the bloggers, all the readers, all the critics in the world are slowly, surely and deliberately increasing the mass of knowledge, opinion and curiosity in the world. Wine is a great example. There may be a preponderance of three line descriptions on Cellar Tracker and Vivino may condense wine to far beyond the point where descriptions have meaning, but everything improves engagement. My hope is that eventually this will lead to better wine from everywhere, for everyone. Idealistic, I know, but I'm certain it won't happen without criticism and development of consumer knowledge.

Anyway, rant over. Apart from anything else I enjoy it. There's something addicting about writing that I've never experienced (aside from nicotine). So that's good enough for me. You'll have to excuse me, I'm going for a boogie. Norman Foster's just come on the wireless.

Casual Sex(ism)

"El Sentido De La Vida: Girly WIne from Spain. The real anti-wrinkle therapy."

I shit you not. That is the real text from the real label of this all too real wine. The shelf talker told me it was a Petit Verdot, Tempranillo and Cab. Sav. blend. So I just had to see what was inside the bottle.

 A brief search on the old Googles led me to the website of Viña Cerrón. Castilla la Manch? Jumilla? Both words instantly summon up the new wave of Spanish Wine making that quite frankly couldn't be any more up my street if it tried.

Pouring it out lead to even more of a sense of anticipation. The colour is deep, dense purple. Very little gradiation from core to rim. The kind of wine that convinces you it's going to steal your lunch money at break time. Heavy enough to stain the the sides of the glass with very broad legs.

Muted on the nose, this none the less had some nice, regal Petit Verdot character of dense bramble fruit and berry jam. Quickly, however, the punch of the oak treatment takes over your nostrils. Wood, tobacco and a sweetness suggesting at least some American or sawn oak barrels. This theme lasts throughout the wine.

Broad and swarthy in the mouth this wine hits you with a one two of instant berry attack and a woody mid-palate. It's a grippy wine. Not as smooth as I'd hoped.

Length wise, this disappoints. All you're left with after a few moments are slightly furry teeth and a feeling that the abyss has just stared back into you. After some time in the glass it even loses it's initial attack. Inside and outside the bottle this wine is charmless.

If you really want an effective anti wrinkle therapy I recommend avoiding this wine. It made me screw my face up.

They say it's your birthday...

If you watch the videos then you know I'm a fan of Moulis-en-Medoc. If you get a line on a good supply it can be great value for money. The problem that presents itself to Bordeaux fans in Japan is very simple. Moulis generally isn't expensive or prestigious enough to warrant good shipping or good storage. Reefers? Forget it
Pssst. I think I've stumbled on a stash... In Yamaya...

This is a '94 La Closerie du Grand Poujeaux from the North east end of Moulis. Still a little purple at the core, but smoothing out to a convincing brick garnet at the rim. The initial look of this wine suggested that it might be great condition. The first pouring  greeted me with a very nice nose indeed. Plenty of those trademark Bordeaux savoury tones of leather and tobacco, plus a surprising amount of cassis to accompany it. This nose, I'm sorry to say, isn't really standing up to the rigours of being open after 20 years beneath (a surprisingly well preserved) cork.
In the mouth this is textbook Bordeaux. An initial attack of dark fruit, drying to earth and leather. It's a little austere, but has enough stuffing to be at least enjoyable. What we're really here for is the aged Merlot. Plump and supple, this is a very nice roast dinner wine. You'd better finish the bottle quite quickly though. Oxygen is dulling the flavours by the moment.
You might wonder why I'm writing a Wine Mothership post about this wine. Where's the utility to 20 year old Moulis?
Your answer is in the question. There will be a good few people turning 20 this year (the legal age to drink in Japan) who would be seriously impressed to receive a birth year wine like this. Soft and easy to drink. Classy bottle, goes well with a celebration. Just don't tell them how cheap it was. Or that you bought it at your local Yamaya.
And leave one for me.

Rockfords basket press Shiraz 2005.