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Made from Romorantin which is exclusively found in the Loire. According to
Robinson et al, in 2008 there were 180 acres of vines. Genetically it is like quite a few others, Chardonnay is a sibling as is Aligote. The DNA suggeststheparents are Pinot and Gouais blanc. (12%. Cork. Approx $A40.)
It's tart and electric, dry and sharp. Slightly cloudy and presumably unfiltered, it smells of cut bean and grass and curiously but clearly - tamarind pulp. A sappy and green nose which warns of the jolt that is to follow. . . Direct and pulsating, its hard, dry, sour and mineral. It conforms to the dry white Loire archetype - dentine dissolving, fresh, wild and free. I loved it, though it's not really something my teeth could tolerate every night.
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from South Australia. Perhaps I've not looked hard enough, but I'm yet to see any similar West Australian bottles.
Live Red 2012.
In my small mind I thought this would be fragile, falling apart by nights end and quite possibly deficient, malformed and unwashed. I blame the crooked label, the back to front e and the unpictured ceramic flip top lid. . . Instead I find something deep and seemingly sturdy, vibrant and quite delicious. A purple and black wine (it smells and tastes like shiraz, but I've been wrong before), spiced and heavy with mulberries and plums. Its clean and meaty, zippy and bright, with a firm but supple film of fruit tannins.
The
Torbreck is an interesting counterpoint. Bigger (15.52%) and more rapidly changeable. It smells and tastes, initially at least, like an unsettled Beaujolais before becoming more Barossan; volatile with soft macerated cherries, perfume and bruised apples, much later and more characteristically there's the smell and taste of rust, rum and raisins.
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Perhaps it's because I'm attracted to the scent of earth, stems and whole bunches. . . This has better persistence than the rapidly fading
Poe's tobacco. It starts with citrus and aniseed and musk sticks. An opening suggestion of confection before becoming more notably tobacco and root scented.
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In a mostly deserted lane off Essex Street a decent if unexcitingHaloumi burger and wedges ($20). X-wray is a relative oasis (at lunch time at least) and only short walk away from the crowds of South Terrace.
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A wrap around label with a beautiful central diagram showing vintage and grape characteristics such as the baume at harvest and the pH and the temperature range during the season (14.5 to 24 degrees C). The four bell curves on the left of the label show the grape varietals used. Chardonnay, Pinot gris, Riesling and Pinot meunier. Strange bedfellows indeed. . .
Of Joe, long dead, who lives between five bells. The last line in the opening salvo of
Sleesor's famous poem. The poem is full of unanswered questions. . .
Why do I think of you dead man? You have gone from earth, Gone even from the meaning of a name. . . Are you shouting at me, dead man. . . But I hear nothing, nothing. . . only bells, Five bells.
For no other reason than to be delicious. The opening sentence on the bottle, which could arguably have been
Joe Lynch's motto. It challenges you to see the whole, to taste the sum and not to vivisect the components. For someone with reductionist tendencies made worse by writing tasting notes it is a challenge indeed.
I gave up trying to taste the components (the sting is the riesling, the wobble the chardonnay and gris) and trying to fit this into a box. It tastes sufficiently apart to be alone in its splendour.
Beneath the flint it's perfumed with musk, blossoms and a shake of white pepper. It's quite floral and more peach than citrus. Fleshy with a hint of wobble and though it's only medium in frame (12.8%) it seems to have richness and a layer of warmth and softness. Tasting like perfume before a redeeming and offsetting sting of crystalline and intense acidity.
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number 5. (
1,
2,
3 and
4).
I'm not sure this is the best, but it is the most recent and the prettiest version I've made. The salmon roe is somewhat superfluous - visually appealing, the fishy taste of the ocean is totally swamped by the Marie Rose sauce and the texture of the avocado. The chive flowers are equally un-required, but they were in bloom and were harvested at the same time as the chive stalks, which are important.
The four elements that seem non negotiable; though I have tried additions and subtractions before, are the lettuce, avocado, the Marie Rose sauce and of course the prawns.
Make the sauce first as this can be kept in the fridge. Use a stab blender, and firstly crush a clove of garlic and smear the base of the container you plan to use to make the sauce. Discard the garlic after this and then add one whole egg and one egg yolks, 200mls of olive oil/grape seed oil (I use a combination so the mayonnaise is less overpowering), 1.5 tablespoons of lemon juice, salt and pepper. Pulse till it obtains the correct consistency then stir through 2 tablespoons of ketchup, half a teaspoon of Worcestershire sauce and 8 drops of Tabasco.
Cook, peel and de-vein the prawns. Don't overcook and once done, set them aside. Cooking for 8 I used 48 medium prawns.
I prefer the texture and ease of iceberg lettuce that has been finely cut. Use the inner leaves and finely slice. Save the larger outer leaves and trim to make cups to serve from if needed.
Avocado. Take two, remove the skin and seed and dice into small 1cm cubes. Squeeze in the juice of one lemon and toss in a small bunch of chives that has been finely diced.
Construct. Lettuce, avocado, prawns and then sauce.
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Ingredients:3 small onions - sliced
4-5 tablespoons of olive oil
6 chicken thighs (approx 1.5kg of chicken)
15 green cardamon pods
12 cloves
2 cinnamon quills - snapped in half
400g of basmati rice
35g of cranberries (I used 'craisins' flavoured with pomegranate)
800mls of boiling water
Salt Pepper - I used 2 tablespoons of whole pickled green peppercorns
Fresh herbs - parsley, coriander and dill - as garnish
Half a cup of Greek yoghurt
How?
Fry and brown the onions in a large pan using half the olive oil. Set aside. Now add the chicken pieces, spices and the rest of the olive oil. Cook each side for 4-5 minutes till well coloured. Remove the chicken, leaving the spices in the pan. Now add the rice, cranberries, caramelised onions and re-position the chicken pieces. Add the salt and pepper and boiling water. Cook at modest heat for 30 minutes, adding more water if the rice looks like it is starting to stick to the base. For some added colour place the pan under a hot grill for 2-3 minutes. Leave the rice to rest under foil or tea towel for 10 minutes before topping with fresh herbs and serving with yoghurt.
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Blood stained, chilled, and quite delicious. It's murky and unfiltered and if left alone for long enough, it throws off a layer of sediment. Clean and uncomplicated; pink flowers, musk stick and curiously -
star fruit. Tart and edgy, blood orange and again the sappy dryness and crunch of carambola. It's quite delicious and extremely though unconventionally appealing.
12.2%. Approx $A35. Cork (short and rebellious).
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Nasi Lemak with fried chicken from Penang Food Restaurant. At the top of William Street, opposite the State Theatre.It's perhaps not worthy of a long detour, the rice lacks coconut and the decor and air is stale, but the fried chicken (just the right side of too dry) is more than adequate compensation while the patchy service and interior does manage to evoke another time and place.
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A triumvirate of authors, though in all likelihood most will refer to this book as Robinson's. Comprehensive and authoritative, the book is heavy with information; historical, genetic and cultural. A strength is the attempt to tie together so many strands of information and to state in text and diagram how different grapes are genetically linked.
Pinot noir for instance has been metaphorically generous with its seed, being one of the parents of Chardonnay, Gamay, Aligote and possibly Savagnin. More surprising is it's relationship to Syrah (Pinot's Great Grand son), Chenin blanc (Grand daughter) and again through the Savagnin line Cabernet sauvignon. . .
At 29 x 19cm and 1280 pages, the central gutter is more like a ravine. Which is rather inconvenient when it comes to the many and informative family tree diagrams. The charts are printed on both pages with information and names being lost in the crevice. I wonder if a larger format, perhaps a full quatro (30x24) size would have allowed this design issue to be overcome.
The other quibble is the lack of photographs (and maps). All the images are reproductions of 100 year old illustrations by the French ampelographers Viala and Vermorel. They are beautiful (and presumably free of copyright), but taken from their original context and placed into a contemporary text they do seem out of place, only highlighting the lack of modern and intentionally created images.
Still it's an invaluable reference which will presumably be shaping what is written and said about wine grapes for this and the next generation.
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I feel temporarily and unusually sated. I don't feel any particular urge to open bottles of wine and I think for the next few weeks and perhaps months, I will avoid drinking any Pinot noir. It's all an attempt to prolong an ideal. Lingering and luxuriating before fully returning to reality. How quick does the ease and pleasure of a holiday vanish when you are back at work? How quick will recollections of something
three lettered and fine disappear if I starting quaffing?
A more immediate consideration has been how to inconspicuously plunder the neighbourhood's mulberry trees, which have finally started to ripen. The local fruit is a little to sweet for me, though my daughter has no objections. We decided to convert some of the foraged fruit into jam.
Add the fruit to a food processors (in this case 150g of fresh mulberries and 100g of strawberries) and pulse. Tip this into a small pan and add the juice of half a lemon and approx 125g of sugar. Taste and adjust as desired before bringing to a gentle simmer for 30-40 minutes. Bottled while hot, this should keep for 1-2 years.
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What is there to say. . . I had the highest of expectations and I wondered if they might be dashed. . . As they say, at night all cows are black. . .
Instead I now have another marker. A distant shore, possibly a boundary has been reached. A sublime and delicate place (surrounded by paywalls), far from almost all the other bottles I've been opening. Which does also highlight what an absurd amount of time and effort I've been spending on this interest of mine. Great and hard to obtain bottles have begun to feel like an exertion. To understand them you have to be prepared; it's as if I've been in training and now my race has been run. . . and curiously for the first time in years I feel as if I can stop looking and running and drinking. Presumably this feeling will last until the shakes begin. . .
The liquid is luminous and suspended in time. Moments and pupils dilate and I feel centred and still. Complete. This is like no other that I've tried before. . . Stems and spice throughout the night, but after a while white pepper and rose petals. It's enticing and elegant; shadow free, stately and pure. Feminine and soft in the mouth, supple, silken, unhurried; suspended. A vinous cloud, a puff of perfume - rarefied, seductive and comforting, but underneath structure, baby flesh and restraint.
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Being a rational person, I'm easily able to rationalise most of my foolishness. . . For much of the year, I've wondered can I really know anything about wine if I have not tried what is generally considered the greatest. . . Like all speculation it's potentially costly. . . I've tried without success to put it aside. Surely it is possible to taste what is modest and affordable and extrapolate your ideas. . .
I've come to the conclusion that connecting a limited number of dots can only give you a vague outline. Can only give you partial and ultimately incomplete knowledge.
My generalisation about the nature of knowing has given me a wobbly bedrock on which to build my folly, though I still equivocate. After all, being ready and receptive does not necessarily justify the cost of knowledge. There are many interesting questions that I have no intention of seeking the answer for. Perhaps sometimes it is better to live in doubt and feel untarnished. . .
Regret and opportunity cost, fear of missing out and
kiasu. All fairly primitive and hard wired forces which I've tried mostly to avoid. If I'm to act I want it to be a positive choice rather than a negative push. Curiosity and the idea that I might be able to share something precious with dear friends - has been much harder to control, especially when it is reinforced with practiced justifications. . . If all goes to plan the publication of this missive will coincide with the consumption of something three lettered and fine.
Image: Three toed. . .
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