"We found it in the back room."

Do you ever have that worn out, world weary feeling where everything seems altogether too much effort? The world just seems like it's draped in a beige cloth of mediocrity. Fortunately this kind of malaise isn't something I'm given to readily, but I make an exception when I trawl the shelves of high street wine shops. I just don't know who buys this junk.
As I was digging around for something interesting to drink in my local Liquor Mountain I was beginning to notice the beige feeling descend. Then something unusual happened. I chanced upon something that made me stop, double take and then immediately pick up the bottle and take it to the cashier.

Rasteau is an appellation in the Rhone valley long known for producing sweet fortified wine. I've never tried it, nor do I know anyone who ever has. Not my bag anyway. The thing is, for a long time the winemakers of that area were lobbying the French Government to allow them to sell their dry table wines under the Rasteau name. I suppose they were sick of having to sell them as simply Côtes du Rhône (or from '96, Côtes du Rhône Village) . In 2010 the Local wine makers of the village of Rasteau got their wish. Their very own table wine appellation! That makes this bottle of Domaine de la Combe Dieu somewhat of an oddity in Japan. A wine from 2000. Labelled as a Village.

When I popped it open two things hit me. Sharp. Wood. There was an initial hit of something that at first whiff had the feeling of vinegar about it. Before I was able to recoil in horror it had passed. I hope it was just some sort of residue on the cork or in the capsule. The woodyness was a little more in keeping with what I might have expected. It wasn't the wood tone of an oak barrel aged wine, it was more the soggy bret funk of a dead and decaying tree stump. Not a great start.

In the glass this quickly blew off revealing...Not a lot if truth be told. The nose of this wine is unmistakably Grenache with it's bright sand hits of cherry and redcurrent. A little leathery, but altogether muted. "Fully mature" would be a polite way to put it. In fairness I don't expect the winemakers at the Domaine expected this bottle to be matured in an uncontrolled fashion in a back ally in Osaka for fifteen years. Considering this the nose has born up fairly well. It's just a bit boring.

It's unfair to judge the colour as well. The cork had a tone of wine crystals on and from the look of them there's going to be a ton of sediment in this yet to be finished bottle. I rushed this home and opened it so I had expected murk. 

As this wine hits the tongue there's a tingle. It still has a zing of acid left after all these years. It's the key to this win and it's really what stops it from being a dead loss. The acid combines well with the matured fruit of the Grenache (I really don't think there's much else in here other than the Grenache. Perhaps a little Syrah.) and I must say this bottle goes down rather nicely. Complexity? Look elsewhere. Length? The structure of the tannins just aren't up to the task. Interest? I suppose so. I can't recommend it purely because for every bottle on the shelf of your local Liquor Mountain in decent condition, I imagine that there are three others that are either cooked, oxidised or corked. It's that kind of wine. It's that kind of shop. If, however, you have a nose for gambling and ¥2000 to spare, it might brighten a meal for you. Leave it upright for a couple of days to sort the sediment though. There's a good chap.

Domaine de la Combe Dieu Rasteau 2000. Worn out, world weary. but certainly not a beige wine.

Half right is better than half wrong.

To be honest I've been pretty slack this year. I've drunk plenty of wine but I haven't exactly been meticulous in my note keeping. The Burgundies, Pomerols and south Australian Grenaches have come and gone. Some good, some bad, but many memorable. I'll be better in the new year. I suppose that's a resolution. Just time to slip in a few words before January 1st about a very reasonably priced bottle of Brunello that I just picked up. 

For those not in the know, Brunello is like the big brother to Chianti. Made from the Sangiovese grape, this Tuscan wonder is a staple of Italian restaurants the world over and I thought that a decent example might be out of my price range in Japan.

I was half right.

Badia al Colle's 2009 effort is still massively young. Perhaps it was my knowledge of the amount of ageing Brunellos actually need, but I swear I could smell the tannin when I pulled the cork on this one. The nose was terrifically pungent on the first pour. Cherries, as expected, but more of a Tempranillo character than a classy pasta joint drop. Charcoal as well. An odd component, but something in the nose of this wine reminds me of a recently quenched barbecue. Mostly bright red fruit of a confectionery shop style.

It's not often that I taste a wine and instantly think that it's well balanced. This most certainly is and its the wine's greatest strength. It's a hugely drinkable wine that just disappears down your throat in a stream of fruit, velvet and excitement. The fruit on the palate is very food friendly. Sour cherry, cranberry and just a little grapeyness remaining. This would be an excellent accompaniment to a ton of my favourite foods. Cassoulet, Goulash and the most hideous sounding of pork offal dishes would be excellent with this. The acid is present, perhaps a little too present for this to be fully enjoyed on its own. Secondary elements are still lacking though. The tannin, while never grippy, still has to yield more complex savoury notes. The question remains as to whether this wine has the guts to stay in the fight. Perhaps not. More seasoned Brunello drinkers have sampled this wine, put it on the shelves pf your local Yamaya and priced it at under 3000 yen. This wine is really just the merest glimpse of what the region is capable of. I'll take a closer look in the name of science in the new year.

Judging by the length of this wine I'd say it's a super bargain. Delicious and flexible in it's nature, this wine will brighten up any Italian meal. If you have a decanter give it an hour or three, if not, why not?

Something for the weekend?

Due to the birth of my lovely daughter Iori, Wine Mothership has been on somewhat of a hiatus. Nappies and wine don't go quite as well together as Oysters and stout. Time for a treat. So, what do I like? I like Bordeaux. I like Cabernet Franc. I love 2003. I'm certainly a big fan of not shelling out too much money on wine while my wife is on maternity leave. I'm hoping that this will do the trick.

Chateau La Fleur Pourret 2003. I popped into Wine Grocery on Shijo Horikawa here in Kyoto for a crisp, dry Pinot Blanc and came back with this. 50% Merlot. 44% Cabernet Franc, 6% Cabernet Sauvignon. A shade over ¥3000. Just beginning to show it's age in the colour stakes, this wine's nose isn't the typically plummy affair that we've come to expect from the right bank. There's not only red fruit, but also a degree of baking spice. Mixed spice, already baked in. A few volts of electricity as well. Lightning from the Cabernet Franc, I surmise. Then there's a hint of sweetness on the nose as well. Not from oak as one might expect, but from the lush, ripe fruit of the 2003 vintage. Reading the spiel on this wine, I don't think they use any new oak and I think the wine benefits from it.

In the mouth this wine has just past its peak. The moment I opened it it was accessible and jolly good company as I struggled to start my first article in four months. Some of the Merlot fruit character has turned to stodge, but there's still plenty of quite lively acid to structure and lengthen the wine. Add to that the ghostly blueberry on mid palate and you're beginning to see quite a wine stacking up. There's structure there too. Not particularly fine like freshly conditioned hair, but as soft frivolous and plentiful as Santa's beard. This is a pretty weighty affair for Bordeaux. Tasting it blind I don't think I'd guess this one. My favourite grape/year/region combination and I don't really know what it tastes like? Well I I'm getting a better idea with each glass I drink. 

For the money, I think the combination of weight, fruit and length is hard to beat. Add to that the vigour from Cabernet Franc and you have a very drinkable Bordeaux suitable for all you meaty dishes. Hurry up though, I don't think this'll last much longer. Something for this weekend?

A New Years resolution to which I might actually stick

Given up smoking? Dropped ten pounds? Still going to that painting class? I hate New Years resolutions. Why would yo wait until new year? Why start at the gym when it's totally packed? I suppose I'm just a contrarian, but this year I've changed my mind.

Having first got interested in wine during the heady days of Tony Blair's first government, I've had an inbuilt prejudice against chardonnay. The image of Tony's cronies slurping tropical oak bombs is as unpalatable as the contents of said cronies' glasses. Never mind. Time to leave 1997 behind and edumacate myself.

Here's a nice place to start. Paul Pernot and ses Fils Puligny-Montrachet 2011. I blew my point card points on this at a modest neighbourhood wine store here in Kyoto. I was in luck too, apparently. According to Jasper Morris on his brief write up on Berry Bros. and Rudd's Web site, "M. Pernod doesn't bottle enough to meet demand."
Cool. Upon opening, those words fell through the trap door of credibility. Mid-toned for a white Burgundy, I paid the colour no attention as I put my nose into the glass. I thought I'd either been ripped off or else bought a heat damaged bottle. The first whiff of this wine gave nothing away about it's pedigree. Flat, empty and with just a hint of calcium. In the mouth. Oak city, California. Pop. 12.
"Dang" I said, or words to that effect, as I put the bottle back into the wine fridge for some much needed air while we worked on the video for Dard et Ribo's odd-ball St. Joseph.
Somewhere between realising that I'd bought the wrong SD card and the battery on the camera running out, a miracle occurred. What had once been a flat desert of useless chardonnay was now a whole bunch more interesting. Lime, cream and just a hint of vanilla took the place of the chalky abyss that was the nose. Not hugely intense, but then this is a village level wine. The fruit tended toward the pear side of things and was very long. What impressed most though was the extent to which the oak was integrated. Not much new oak here, but what there was was a perfect supporting actor for the fruit. lasting as long as the fruit and leaving just a hint of butter at the end of the palate to blend the dry finish seamlessly. This wine impressed. Super serious white burgundy for your special event. It's drinking well now (after some time to open up, of course) but there is plenty here to suggest a long maturation period. 
This New Year's resolution will be more resilient most

Medals of (dis)honour.

I admit it. I have an unhealthy obsession. Ever since my early days peddling ciggies, strong beer and the occasional bottle of wine at Thresher I've loved wine labels that are black with gold text. What could be classier? What says Ambassador's Reception more emphatically than a bottle of Côte-d'Or pinot? Gevrey-Chambertin? Hang on a minute, I'll just put on my cravat. What could be more classy?

Well plenty actually. I had a Camus Père et Fils Gevrey-Chambertin 2002 on Christmas day and regretted not giving it to the reindeer. I'm willing to forgive pinot noir some of its more common faults. If it's a bit short or lacks concentration I generally persist. These wines still have something to offer. Not here though. Upon opening the nose typical Bourgogne. This is not a good thing. Think of all the one-note, sour berry bottles of wine that have that illustrious word slapped on them. There's nothing elegant or charming( or any of the other commonly employed excuse words used to pardon lack-luster pinot) about this wines nose. It was OK I suppose. Like being waved at by a sour cherry from across the street during rush hour.

This wine was fine on the first attack, bright red fruit, but soon an overpowering sourness took over. It wasn't overly unpleasant, but it rendered this wine unappealing to even the staunchest Burgundy fan. Short, thin and sour, right when it should be at it's best. Style over substance? I don't get that feeling in this case. Just poorly made wine from an excellent year. This wine showed little improvement throughout the evening and I was glad we had some Chateau Malescasse '09 to cheer up the festivities. This wine wasn't a total loss though. The bottle looks stunning in my collection.

Small things in a great way.

"If you cannot do great things, do small things in a great way."

Napoleon Hill

Not so much a small thing but a huge iceberg in the forefront of my recent wine consciousness. Small Change Wines White blend is done in a great way. Screw cap, no frills packaging hides something very special within. Verdelho. Heard of that? I had, but only really to that extent. Famed for it's Madeiras, this grape rarely finds it's way into table wine. I'm so glad it did in this case.

On the nose it reflects somewhat of an unoaked chardonnay character. Lime notes and a kind of tropicality dominate. I would have spent more time thinking bout the nose, but the first nose full was so inviting I just couldn't hold myself back from drinking the thing.

The palate and mouth-feel are a revelation. Smooth succulent fruit and a rich floral character. Citrus, pineapple and passion fruit all delivered in a weighty and satisfying body that complemented the Sea Bream and Parmesan dish for dinner. Perfectly judged acidity and and a long fatty finish with ginger. There were definitely things here that reminded me of high quality Chardonnay. Then there were times when it reminded me of a warm vintage in Alsace. 
Rhys Howlett and Andrew Schonfeldt at Small Change Wines deserve a hearty pat on the back for this effort. This bottle was imported to Japan as a sample, I wish I could tell you where to get some more. Perhaps it's not too early to write a letter to Santa.

Blood and steel

Regular readers will know that I have a few predilections in the world of wine. One of them is bit part Bordeaux grapes. I hope to have some top quality Petite Verdot for you in the next few weeks but in the meantime I thought I'd try this.

 

Chinon Beuvez Toujours Vieilles Vignes was on sale in the basement of Isetan in Kyoto station. 100% Cabernet Franc and made from the 2011 vintage, this wine is the base of this producer's offerings. I wasn't expecting much more than an interesting time when getting my nose into this one. First I picked up some bitter tannins so descriptive of under ripe vintages but secondly I found some fruit. Not a cascade of juice by any means but a restrained blueberry and something more readily identified with white wines. Zest. There was definitely a citrus zest component to the nose. It certainly refocused me on this Chinon.

First impressions on the palate were good. Structural for a light wine, there is a definite beginning, middle and end to this. Hard as nails first up, with an astringent iron tannin. Food wine, of course. Mid palate was where the blue fruits were. Not full frontal (and this wine could definitely do with more) by any means, These blueberries were tart and short, soon giving way to to a gentle citrus zest acid/bitter combination. Lemon? No. Lime? No. The closest I could think of was peel from mixed fruit marmalade.

Short finish, but one where the what remained of the tannin made itself known. Surprisingly fine for a wine at this price point, but not really good enough to lift this wine above the level of acceptable competence.

Interesting drop but wine geeks only need apply.