Coming up blanc

A big tasting was put on by New Zealand Winegrowers, and the results are below. Part two is on pinot noir, part three covers riesling, and everything else is in part four. Notes are of the hit-and-run variety, due to the format, so read what follows with the necessary suspicion.

By way of disclosure, they loaded us up with Island Creek oysters, which would normally predispose me towards positivity. On the other hand, I only ate about two dozen, which isn’t even a running start for me.

Palliser Estate 2008 Sauvignon Blanc (Martinborough) – Dense. Gooseberry with a significantly smoky component…or is it sulfur? Maybe a bit of both. Tropical fruit rinds and minerality (grey-toned), this wine is a little on the corpulent side. (3/09)

Monkey Bay 2008 Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough) – Light green pepper, asparagus, sweet greenness continues on the finish. A diagonal wine. Ultimately insignificant. (3/09)

Matua Valley 2008 Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough) – Gooseberry, a little papaya, and a Styrofoam finish (which is, blessedly, short). (3/09)

Nobilo “Regional Collection” 2008 Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough) – Clean. Watery. Green and yellow citrus rinds, plus grapefruit. Underripe and dilute. (3/09)

Babich 2008 Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough) – Sugared apple, pineapple. A goofy toy wine, not to be taken seriously. (3/09)

Allan Scott 2008 Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough) – Papery. Qualitatively, somewhere between innocuous and awful. (3/09)

Oyster Bay 2008 Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough) – Seashell, green apple. Intense. Short finish. Not bad. (3/09)

The Crossings 2008 Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough) – Dry exposed rock. Grassy. Ungenerous. Very mineral-driven, with a long finish. An uncompromising style. (3/09)

Stoneleigh 2008 Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough) – Vivid pineapple, ripe green apple, grass. Sour plum wine on the finish. Weird. (3/09)

Saint Clair “Vicar’s Choice” 2008 Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough) – Clean, linear. Papaya, but not sweetly tropical. Light- to medium-bodied. Good, but only just. (3/09)

Goldwater 2008 Sauvignon Blanc Wairau Valley (Marlborough) – Intense gooseberry with lacings of asparagus. Crystalline. Rich but with sufficient acid, and thus balanced. Finishes greener than it starts. Good. (3/09)

Nautilus 2008 Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough) – Simple. A little sweet, a little green. Banana candy finish. (3/09)

Villa Maria “Private Bin” 2008 Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough) – Electric green fuzz, clean green apple skin. Tight. Classic, but stretched thin. Not bad. (3/09)

Drylands 2008 Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough) – Ripe red fruit, papaya, mango, and something that almost approaches lychee in its lurid stickiness. Way too sweet. (3/09)

Montana “Brancott” 2008 Sauvignon Blanc “Reserve” (Marlborough) – Cedar, ripe yellow plum. Soft, with a pinched midpalate, then expands. Very long, turning more expressive as it lingers, with a bitter edge emergent. This is a very polished style, perhaps too obviously so. (3/09)

Croney “Three Ton” 2008 Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough) – Mango sorbet. Juicy. Finishes weirdly bitter. (3/09)

Kennedy Point 2008 Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough) – Green dust and paper. Flat. Dull. (3/09)

Saint Clair 2008 Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough) – Intense pea and green bean aromas. Vivid. Fattens on the finish. (3/09)

Spy Valley 2008 Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough) – Neon green aromas, ripe grapefruit, plum. A bit sweet. Nice enough, but meaningless. (3/09)

Vavasour 2008 Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough) – Very solid with some quartz at the interior. Ripe, structured, and intense. Good. (3/09)

Kim Crawford 2008 Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough) – Sweet mandarin orange, mango, plum. Extremely tropical. I don’t care for this style any more than the capsicum-infused alternative. (3/09)

Nobilo “Icon” 2008 Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough) – Sophisticated and suave. Crystallized minerality, leafy. Not green. Good weight. Finishes a little flat, though. Just OK. (3/09)

Matua Valley 2008 Sauvignon Blanc “Paretai” (Marlborough) – Green pea and black pepper do battle with ripe tropical fruit. There’s greenness, as well. The finish is weirdly sour, but until that point the wine’s good enough. (3/09)

Saint Clair 2008 Sauvignon Blanc Pioneer Block 1 “Foundation” (Marlborough) – Vibrant, pure, and intense. Green mango, grapefruit, light orange. A slight bit of stick on the finish, but otherwise classic and very good. The class of the 2008s, for sure. (3/09)

Whitehaven 2008 Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough) – Pea soup with artificial sweetener; here are all the old flaws, presented in a modernistic, sludgy package. And in what universe does this deserve a $23 suggested retail price? (3/09)

Woollaston 2007 Sauvignon Blanc (Nelson) – Red fruit, black-hearted minerals. Incredible intensity. Very lightly sweet-seeming. Long. Huge. Impressive. One might even say tumescent. (3/09)

Dashwood 2007 Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough) – Thin, papery, and innocuous. (3/09)

Wither Hills 2007 Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough) – Greener than it has been in other vintages. Grass, leaves, and coal dust on the finish. Eh. (3/09)

Isabel 2007 Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough) – Slate, cedar, and a fine particulate texture with laser-like intensity. Extremely impressive. (3/09)

Staete Landt 2007 Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough) – Very mineral-dominated. grassy, with green apple skins. Long. Good. (3/09)

Villa Maria “Cellar Selection” 2007 Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough) – Intense, long, and ripe, with purity and balance. Hints of black fruit. The wine glows. (3/09)

New Zealand’s enthusiastic bid for market dominance with sauvignon blanc is often remarked upon, but I think this has it backwards; it is sauvignon blanc that dominates New Zealand, and not in an entirely good way, either. Plantings have grown from just over 2000 hectares in the year 2000 to just under 12,000 in 2008, and exports have grown along similar lines: from 20 million liters in 2004 to almost 70 million liters in 2008.

It might be more useful to view those numbers in context. Over the 2004-2008 period, sauvignon blanc plantings roughly doubled (6 to 12 thousand hectares), while total plantings of all grapes only increased 66%. That’s a country losing its identity to a grape. Yes, there’s pinot noir to consider, but most of that discussion takes place in another price category, and thus I will save it for a later chapter.

But if New Zealand as a whole has to worry about this, Marlborough in particular has already lost its battle. A staggering 91% of all New Zealand sauvignon blanc comes from this one region. I think that, for many consumers, New Zealand = Marlborough = sauvignon blanc…which has a certain marketing appeal for producers who fit all three categories, but some ominous inertia for anyone looking to sell something else, especially from Marlborough.

This is not to say that Marlborough hasn’t shown an ability to produce appealing wines from this grape, though I think the picture is less clear than it was a decade ago. There are, in general, three styles that flow from the region. The first is the classic, green-dominated, somewhat abrasive style that made the region’s name, which at its best has an exciting tactility, and at its worst (underripe fruit overwhelmed with pyrazines) tastes exclusively of bell peppers and tinned vegetables. The second is the overcompensation for the first style: ripe, tropical fruit with residual sugar and an unwelcome loss of acidity. Of these two dominant styles, the first is better at getting attention, but the second is better at keeping it.

The third style is still a definite minority, and not where the big money is to be made, but where a slim hope for defining Marlborough sauvignon as something other than a commodity lies. Some producers are playing with techniques – native yeast ferments, oak regimes, lees stirring, sémillon blends – with very interesting results. Others are exploring sub-regional bottlings, though only a few are drilling down to the single-vineyard level as yet. Some are chasing minerality, which (on the evidence) is at least achievable from some sites. But in all cases, the goal is to make a sauvignon blanc of individual quality and character, in contrast to the practitioners of the two dominant styles, who are pursuing a predefined market in predetermined ways.

While the unfortunate dalliance with making sub-$10 sauvignon blanc seems to be over by international economic default (only one wine – the Dashwood – comes in below that price, and it’s one of the two worst wines of the tasting; I just don’t think it’s possible to make worthwhile Marlborough sauvignon blanc at that price point, and if it was, Villa Maria and Brancott would already be doing it), the problem is now at the other end.

The majority of these wines are over $15, though few of them perform at that level. Several are at or over $20, and while there are some successes, they aren’t as universal as they should be. Qualitatively, there’s a lot of middle-of-the-road wine here. I think an important caveat to that is that this lineup is decidedly shifted towards the mass-market, lower-end versions of Marlborough sauvignon blanc, and a more comprehensive survey would include many wines that exhibit the very character and class that I’m labeling the “third style” a few paragraphs upstream. Most of the wines are more-or-less drinkable, no more, and no less. They’re commodities. There’s nothing wrong with that – commodity wines are the bulk of the wine industry – but it’s a low foundation on which to build an identity as a wine-producing region. If Marlborough is to grow, it will need to expand that identity beyond large-production sauvignon blanc.

Part of this, too, may be the limitations of sauvignon blanc as a grape. I wouldn’t argue, as some would, that it’s not capable of greatness, but rather that the evidence suggests that such greatness is limited to very few sites and even fewer producers. Sauvignon blanc has a lot more inherent character than chardonnay, which makes it a better choice for commodity wines, but as a result requires a greater effort to elevate it above its station.

But let’s get back to quality. Looking at this list, a number of abject failures stand out, and more than a few of them are among the cheapest wines in the tasting: Matua Valley, Monkey Bay, Nobilo “Regional Collection”, Babich, Allan Scott, Nautilus, Drylands, Kennedy Point, Spy Valley, Dashwood, and Whitehaven. That last one earns special mention for carrying a $23 suggested price and still being awful. But what strikes me most about this list is the popularity of the wines on it; these are the labels one sees in every store and on every wine list. That’s unfortunate.

The successes? I’d put those in two categories. First, the mass-market and under$20 successes: Oyster Bay, Saint Clair “Vicar’s Choice”, Goldwater, Villa Maria “Private Bin”, Vavasour, Staete Landt, and Brancott “Reserve” (the latter is a surprise, since it has underperformed for quite a few vintages previous to this one).

Then there are the “stars” of the tasting. From the top down: Villa Maria “Cellar Selection”, Isabel, Saint Clair Pioneer Block 1, and Woollaston. But, one may wonder, why is “stars” in scare quotes? Because while I’d happily buy and drink any of these wines, none is paradigm-defining or truly world-class. The days of excited whispers about Marlborough sauvignon blanc – “hey, have you tasted Cloudy Bay? – are long gone. What’s going to replace them? We’re still in the process of finding out.

Dark times for pinot?

Here’s part two of a New Zealand Winegrowers trade tasting; the first part covered sauvignon blanc, this will deal with pinot noir, the third installment will run down a few rieslings, and everything else will appear in the fourth installment. Notes are of the hit-and-run variety due to the format, so please read them in that context.

Matua Valley 2008 Pinot Noir (Marlborough) – Green leaves (perhaps beet greens) with a powdery underbelly. Hardly undrinkable, but tastes more like an experiment than a pinot noir. (3/09)

Saint Clair “Vicar’s Choice” 2008 Pinot Noir (Marlborough) – Dry red fruit. Underripe. (3/09)

Saint Clair 2008 Pinot Noir (Marlborough) – Clean red berries and Juicy Fruit™ gum. Candy’s rarely a positive descriptor for pinot noir. (3/09)

Palliser Estate “Pencarrow” 2007 Pinot Noir (Martinborough) – Tart. Rhubarb and cranberry. Smoke and a little minerality, with hints of depth on the finish. Very crisp. Not entirely balanced. (3/09)

Palliser Estate 2007 Pinot Noir (Martinborough) – Beet, plum, and weedy tannin. This wine throbs at a baritone pitch, never really adding anything other tones of interest. Disappointing. (3/09)

Dashwood 2007 Pinot Noir (Marlborough) – Black cherry, sour dill, and severe char. Vile. (3/09)

Stoneleigh 2007 Pinot Noir (Marlborough) – Light black fruit with clarifying acidity. Juicy and pleasant. (3/09)

Babich 2007 Pinot Noir (Marlborough) – Sweetish candy notes. Black plum, orange rind, golden beet, and a hint of anise. This doesn’t entirely escape a certain synthetic character, either. Iffy. (3/09)

Oyster Bay 2007 Pinot Noir (Marlborough) – Flat. Seashell and dirty asphalt. Yuck. (3/09)

Nobilo “Icon” 2007 Pinot Noir (Marlborough) – Pretty fruit; a blend of black, red, and purple. Soft and clean. There’s nothing here but fruit, and while it’s good in that style, it’s a little more like juice than wine. (3/09)

Nautilus “Opawa” 2007 Pinot Noir (Marlborough) – Golden beet and concentrated weed…both the invasive plant and the kind you smoke…with a short, bitter finish. Thoroughly underripe. (3/09)

Matua Valley 2007 Pinot Noir (Marlborough) – Prune, black cherry, and burnt coffee. Short, and that’s probably for the best. (3/09)

Vavasour 2007 Pinot Noir Awatere Valley (Marlborough) – Sharp and short, but what’s here is tasty, fun, and crisp. Red berries, mostly. (3/09)

Allan Scott 2007 Pinot Noir (Marlborough) – Green grass and high tides forever. Actually, maybe just the green grass. And dill. Dull. Dull dill. (3/09)

Babich “Winemakers’ Reserve” 2007 Pinot Noir (Marlborough) – Pure red fruit, apple, clementine. Crisp, with a sandy texture. Good basic pinot. (3/09)

Nautilus 2007 Pinot Noir (Marlborough) – Sugary red and black plums, finishes like some bizarre sort of candy. (3/09)

Saint Clair 2007 Pinot Noir Pioneer Block 4 “Sawcut” (Marlborough) – Cran-grape juice. Light, sour, and underripe. (3/09)

Staete Landt 2007 Pinot Noir (Marlborough) – Reserved, dry, and difficult, with chalky minerality. Very long, though. A little bizarre, perhaps, but it might be worth holding for a while, to see what happens. (3/09)

Spy Valley 2007 Pinot Noir (Marlborough) – Plummy. Short, simple fruit. Clean. (3/09)

Wild Earth “Blind Trail” 2007 Pinot Noir (Central Otago) – Beet, blood orange, and luminescent red fruit with hints of herb. Fun, with good quality for its price. (3/09)

Amisfield 2007 Pinot Noir (Central Otago) – Smoked dill, heavily-filtered dark fruit, and some heat. Long, but to little purpose. An absent wine, and just no good. (3/09)

Woollaston 2006 Pinot Noir (Nelson) – Black fruit with a candied edge, coal at the core, and hints of additional minerality. Coarse and short, but intense while it lasts. Not all that much fun to drink. (3/09)

Montana “Brancott” 2006 Pinot Noir “Reserve” (Marlborough) – Butter soup. Awful. (3/09)

Whitehaven 2006 Pinot Noir (Marlborough) – Stale nuts. Flat. Horrid. (3/09)

Hans 2006 Pinot Noir (Marlborough) – Beet, asparagus, and bitterness. Yuck. (3/09)

Wild Earth 2006 Pinot Noir (Central Otago) – Mixed berries and dark soil studded with morels. Deep, with the first stirrings of complexity. Medium-length finish. Very good. (3/09)

Isabel 2005 Pinot Noir (Marlborough) – Green berries. Tart and weedy, with watermelon Jolly Rancher on the finish. Short. A disappointment. (3/09)

Wither Hills 2005 Pinot Noir (Marlborough) – Black fruit tarted up like candy lozenges. (3/09)

Palliser Estate 2007 Pinot Noir (Martinborough) – Green beets (rather than beet greens) and pinkish fruit, with a powdered cotton candy texture. (3/09)

Gladstone 2007 Pinot Noir (Wairarapa) – Biting, skin-bitter, and high-toned. Lavender aromas. Weirdly interesting, though I think it would be difficult to identify as pinot noir. (3/09)

Waimea “Spinyback” 2007 Pinot Noir (Nelson) – Dirty (in a good way), but the palate is soapy and the finish pure Styrofoam. (3/09)

Te Mania 2007 Pinot Noir “Reserve” (Nelson) – Quite volatile and high-toned, with pinkish-purple fruit, plus a great deal of bite and chew. Spicy. Perhaps a touch woody, but it should integrate if so. (3/09)

Montana “Brancott” 2007 “T” Pinot Noir “Terraces” (Marlborough) – Red cherry, strawberry, raspberry. Simple fruit, but there’s not much else. Very light, with good balance. (3/09)

Huia 2007 Pinot Noir (Marlborough) – Sour dill and other herbs with a chalky finish. Awkward. (3/09)

Muddy Water 2007 Pinot Noir (Waipara) – Black cherry and black truffle with a heart of darkness. Elegant and pure. Lovely. (3/09)

WJ Coles Successors “The Crater Rim” 2007 Pinot Noir Blacks Lot 7 (Waipara) – Promising at first, but then…? Plummy fruit without a finish of any kind. Where’s the rest of the wine? (3/09)

Valli 2007 Pinot Noir Waitaki (Central Otago) – Intense blueberry. Very juicy. Pulses at the core. Piercing at first, but it’s all upfront; the wine’s finish goes nowhere, leaving only a lingering hint of tannin. (3/09)

Mud House “Swan” 2007 Pinot Noir Bendigo (Central Otago) – Smoky/musty raspberry, beet, and sugarplum. OK, but there’s a candied element that detracts. (3/09)

Carrick 2007 Pinot Noir (Central Otago) – Toast and char. Extremely ungenerous. Hard throughout. Whatever killed this wine – and it’s most certainly, if prematurely, dead – must include the barrels. (3/09)

Pinot noir is New Zealand’s second most planted variety. That’s sort of staggering to think about; more than any of the Bordeaux grapes, more than syrah, more than pinot gris, and even more than chardonnay. If sauvignon blanc is the grape on which New Zealand’s commercial fortunes rest, pinot noir is the grape in which its qualitative reputation is almost solely invested. (At least for now, that is; syrah has shown great promise, though finding a market for it will be a different issue.)

But while a good deal of international hype has been whipped up over the quality and potential quality of the country’s pinots, there are four factors that hold it back: ripeness, price, quantity, and identity.

New Zealand’s top pinot noir producers have concluded that pushed-ripeness (“overripe,” if one prefers a value judgment) pinot noir is, at best, a controversial product. For many, the quest is not for more, but rather for less, and some even bottle their reserve bottlings only in what might, by the rules of Burgundy and other regions, be considered the “lesser” (that is, cooler and less ripe) years. Of course, good wines are produced at many different conceptions of ripeness. Yet most winemakers acknowledge that it is all too easy for them to make monster pinot noir, and many feel that it is not in their interest to do so. (On this point I agree with them, but that’s obviously based on my personal preferences.)

Price is a persistent issue with pinot noir from anywhere; the tariff for entry into the realm of quality pinot noir is usually fairly high, and attempts to find cheaper alternatives are rarely met with success. This is no less true in New Zealand, and the above notes bear this out; a little less than half the wines are under $20, and the vast majority of those range from nearly-undrinkable to, at best, drinkable simplicity. Among the country’s best pinot noirs (not, in general, represented in these notes), prices ranging from around $40 to the higher double-digit realms are the norm; the triple-digit super-cuvées with which a few overreaching New Zealand producers have experimented haven’t found traction here, as yet.

Of course, wherever there’s good pinot noir, there’s not much of it. The very best wines are, like the best pinots from pretty much everywhere else, small-production entities. (Site-specific bottlings aren’t yet a major factor; New Zealanders’ caution in this area is warranted and admirable, since many vineyards are far too young to have clearly separable terroir signatures, and clonal identities are, in many wines, far more dominant at the moment.) The most cultish bottlings are snapped up by locals via long-closed mailing lists, and the rest must service not only the homeland, but also many other markets in which New Zealand has had a longer presence than it has had in the States. So to speak of high-quality, limited production pinot noir is one thing, but to actually acquire a selection is another. The promotion challenges are considerable; if there are only a dozen cases available for the entire United States, and some of that must be opened for otherwise-unfamiliar retailers, sommeliers, and press, there’s not going to be much wine to sell. And thus, there’s not much chance of marketing traction for the wine, the brand, or the grape. Larger-production wines do better at this, but as the above notes indicate, many of those wines aren’t very good, which is a brand-building danger of its own.

All of these factors contribute to the difficult question of New Zealand pinot noir’s identity in the worldwide marketplace. The wines that are available everywhere are “cheap for pinot”, but in reality aren’t all that cheap…and, mostly, aren’t all that good either. Many better wines are only anecdotally available, and most certainly aren’t cheap. The existence of the former damages the case for the latter, but the general unavailability of the latter makes it impossible to counter this effect.

And that’s not even the biggest problem. Putting aside “commoditized” pinot noir for a moment, quality-oriented wines from this grape must compete in a world marketplace that is rather laden with options from elsewhere, priced pretty much the same. Lovers of a riper, more full-throttled “Californian” style will find wines from New Zealand that fit their palate, but in tiny quantities and equivalent prices, so what – other than pure curiosity – is their impetus to explore the category? Lovers of a more restrained, “Burgundian” style will find wines made with that philosophy in mind, whether or not the wines actually taste Burgundian (mostly, they don’t; if there’s any region with which the wines have a vague kinship, it’s the Willamette Valley), but this is an audience that’s very, very resistant to New World pinot noir…and again, the prices for wines of equivalent quality are not particularly divergent. So again, what’s the motivation to shift funds from one to the other?

Given that most (though certainly not all) New Zealand producers’ best pinot noirs are deliberate attempts to scale back New World-style ripeness, it’s crucial that these wines be placed in front of critics, traders, and consumers who dislike the more powerful style. Only then will any market presence be enhanced. The wines will always be a difficult sell, but here is where their low quantities become a virtue; the audience doesn’t have to be huge to sell through the wines.

And further progress must be made on the “bargain pinot” front. There is evidence that pinot noir of quality, if not necessarily much complexity, can be made in New Zealand. Many of the best producers bottle a forward, fresh, “drink now” bottling specifically targeting this market; these wine, rather than wretched mass-market cheapies, must come to represent New Zealand pinot noir in the popular mindset, or consumers will always be wary of “trading up” to the pricier wines. Nothing from this tasting better exemplifies the necessary qualities than the Wild Earth “Blind Trail” from the Central Otago, which often retails for under $20. No, it won’t make anyone forget Chambolle-Musigny, or for that matter Domaine Drouhin Oregon, but then again it’s not supposed to.

Unfortunately, the rather high percentage of wines in this tasting that come from Marlborough does not represent the best path towards this goal. There aren’t many regions in the world where pinot noir and sauvignon blanc grow to high quality side-by-side, and based on the evidence thus far Marlborough isn’t about to add itself to that list. To be sure, there are quality pinots made in the region (and a tiny number of real stars), but there are very few versus the total number produced. Overall, 45% of New Zealand’s pinot noir comes from its most industrial region, followed by 28% from the hype-heavy Central Otago (rife with young vines and untested potential, despite the hype), just 11% from its (so far) best region – the Wairarapa, including Martinborough – and a relative trickle from Nelson, the Waipara, and elsewhere. This is not a recipe for progress.

Within the confines of this tasting, it would be a rather lengthy process to list the failures, for they are numerous. Of special note, however, have to be those wines that grossly under-perform at their price points; those include Spy Valley, Amisfield (a perennial underachiever), Whitehaven, Palliser Estate, Huia, Isabel, and – most shockingly for me, since I’ve liked the wine in the past – Carrick. There are some surprising names on that list.

The successes? At the lower end – which is relative for this grape – Palliser Estate “Pencarrow”, Stoneleigh, Nobilo “Icon”, Vavasour, and the Babich “Winemakers’ Reserve” perform well, though all are surpassed by the quality/price ratio of the Wild Earth “Blind Trail”. At the higher end, Wild Earth and Muddy Water are the only real standouts.

Riesling star

Here’s part three of a New Zealand Winegrowers trade tasting; the first part covered sauvignon blanc, the second with pinot noir, and everything else will appear in the fourth installment. Notes are of the hit-and-run variety due to the format, so please read them in that context.

Saint Clair “Vicar’s Choice” 2008 Riesling (Marlborough) – Varietally true, but that’s about all to be said about it. Light, with an equally light sense of sweetness. Drinkable but dull. (3/09)

Babich 2007 “Dry” Riesling (Marlborough) – Loaded with mercaptans. Sharp as a razor, but fruitless. Flat. Boring. (3/09)

Spy Valley 2007 Riesling (Marlborough) – Slight sweetness, apple, gritty steel, and a few drips of petrol. Long. Not bad, albeit simple. (3/09)

Palliser Estate 2007 Riesling (Martinborough) – Intense lime, lemon, and limestone, but the wine is balanced rather than enormous or top-heavy. In fact, the balance is rather impressive. A wine of substance. The quibble is the a lack of complexity, though it’s young and there’s plenty of time. (3/09)

Dry River 2007 Riesling Craighall “Amaranth” (Martinborough) – Vivid. Crushed glass and rocks, both liquefied. Excellent acid/sugar balance. Incredibly pure. Very, very, very long. Incredible, and clearly the best wine of the entire tasting. (3/09)

Waimea “Spinyback” 2007 Riesling (Nelson) – Wet and fun. Slate. Fruit-forward, with slight tropicality. A bit simple, but good, with some potential upside as the wine ages. (3/09)

Neudorf 2007 Riesling Brightwater (Nelson) – Slightly reduced but still accessible. Mineral-dominated (gravel and sand). Dried Granny Smith apple. High-quality. (3/09)

Allan Scott 2007 Riesling (Marlborough) – Grassy. Light green plum. Synthetic finish. Very simple. (3/09)

Villa Maria “Cellar Selection” 2007 Riesling (Marlborough) – Ultra-clean and “perfect,” but it lacks the additional intensity and/or complexity it would need to achieve greatness. Long, dry, and mineral-overwhelmed (mostly because there’s not much else), with little future indicated. Still, a good enough wine for early drinking. (3/09)

Mud House 2007 Riesling (Waipara) – A hollow balloon of dusty minerality, lime rind, and grapefruit. Short. (3/09)

Mount Grey 2007 Riesling (Waipara) – Rich, silky, and tropical. Not enough acidity. Some plastic weirdness, as well. (3/09)

Amisfield 2007 “Dry” Riesling (Central Otago) – A smoked crystal core with a hint of cherry. Dark, brooding, and earthy. Quite enticing. (3/09)

Felton Road 2007 Riesling (Central Otago) – Lots of sugar, front-loaded and obvious, but with the requisite acidity to match it. An explosion of apples follows. Big and long. Wow. (3/09)

Forget sauvignon blanc. The future of New Zealand white winedom might be riesling.

Of course, it will take a long while before we’ll know whether or not this is true. For one thing, the vines tend to be very, very young (the oldest in New Zealand are in the hands of an unfortunately commercial winery). For another, they’re not always planted on the best sites (that is to say, few know where the actual “best sites” are, as yet). Additionally, the market for riesling is a fickle and frequently absent one, even in the best of cases. But New Zealand riesling plantings and exports continue to rise on a slow-but-steady incline, according to the data. So while there’s not explosive demand or supply, there’s a growing interest. Slow, steady growth suits this slow, steady grape.

Stylistically, most New Zealand riesling of note is off-dry. Dry versions of quality are rare. Fully sweet and/or botrytized versions tend to be better, but are ubiquitous enough that there’s a lot of tedium and indifference, much of it overpriced, some of it well-priced to no good effect. Outright sweet riesling is harder than people think.

Regionally, there’s no one source of excitement. Martinborough, Marlborough, Nelson, Waipara/Canterbury, Central Otago…all have promising (and less so) wines to show to the world. Potential diversity is thus suggested, but it will take years to work out the shape of that diversity.

In this tasting, it’s clear that the median point for riesling is higher than it is for any other grape on offer (and based on my historical tastings, this is generally true). I don’t believe this indicates something fundamental about inherent varietal quality, but rather a disinterest in mucking about with this particular grape as a function of its lack of popularity. Were these sauvignon blancs, they’d be focus-grouped to death, with the concomitant cellar machinations following. But riesling? Many wineries will ask: what’s the point? The result is, overall, better wine, with fewer lows. And the highs? Slightly higher as a percentage of the total, I’d say, though that’s an unscientific assessment.

Obviously, the Dry River and the Felton Road are the stars of this tasting, though the Amisfield, Neudorf, and Palliser Estate are all high-quality wines. The Dry River needs to be good at its price, which is nearly twice that of any other wine. Is it worth it? Yeah, probably.

Finally, a note: in 2002, Villa Maria told me that they were exerting a special focus on what they referred to as “Alsatian varieties.” Villa Maria is a huge, sometimes industrial, producer, but as they’re family owned, they don’t have to engage in the ridiculous market-whoring contortions that many publicly-traded wineries suffer. As such, I think their “Alsatian” focus represents an honest belief that there’s real potential for that particular palette of grapes in New Zealand. Villa Maria knows their market and their country’s overall potential as well as anyone, so theirs is an opinion I take seriously.

Kiwi cornucopia

Here’s the final installment of a New Zealand Winegrowers trade tasting; the first part dealt with sauvignon blanc, the second with pinot noir, and the third with riesling. Everything else is here. Notes are of the hit-and-run variety due to the format, so please read them in that context.

Kim Crawford 2008 “Unoaked” Chardonnay (Gisborne/Hawke’s Bay) – Sweet tropical candy. Dried fruit. Rainier cherry? Eh. (3/09)

Babich 2008 “Unoaked” Chardonnay (Marlborough) – Bitter but clean. Rinds and gravel. Seems off-dry. OK. (3/09)

Villa Maria “Private Bin” 2008 Chardonnay (Marlborough) – Ripe orange and fig with a hint of butter. Big, clean, and nice. This is what cheap chardonnay should taste like. (3/09)

Oyster Bay 2008 Chardonnay (Marlborough) – Spice and milk. Is there fruit? It’s hard to say. Worked to death, and no fun. (3/09)

Chardonnay is being abandoned as a commodity grape in New Zealand. That’s not a reflection of plantings – it’s quite widely-grown, though it pales in comparison to sauvignon blanc, and isn’t even quite as popular as pinot noir – but a reflection of its marketing, which is mostly nonexistent in the States. (In New Zealand itself, things are a little different.) And – I can’t believe I’m about to say this – it’s a shame.

The unoaked style has fresh potential on the ground in its country of origin, but as an export wine isn’t of much use; it’s probably not worth the tariff to get these friendly, simple wines to other shores. However, the fruit intensity of the better New Zealand chardonnays (most of which are oaked to some degree) is so vivid and pure that it would be a shame to abandon the grape. None of which are represented here, in my opinion, and it’s true that the world hardly needs more chardonnay, but I think there’s real potential that, while not going untapped, is perhaps going unrealized by worldwide consumers.

One caveat on the preceding notes: these chardonnays were tasted immediately after the sauvignon blancs, and (in my opinion) suffered in contrast with the acidity and green intensity of that grape.

Hans 2007 Viognier (Marlborough) – Lanolin and pretty flowers. Oil, peanut, some spice. Oak? I’m not sure. Fantastic flavors, though they’re sticky and thick. Lurid, as many viogniers are. Not bad? Particular, for sure. (3/09)

I keep tasting interesting viogniers from New Zealand, and then returning to find they’ve fallen on harder times. It’s a cranky grape, for sure, with as many detractors as fans. But if there’s potential, and someone can figure out how to retain some acid in the wine, there’s probably a market.

Nobilo “Regional Collection” 2008 Pinot Grigio (East Coast) – Big yellow/white/green fruit with a flat finish. Simple and boring. (3/09)

Nautilus 2008 Pinot Gris (Marlborough) – Very sweet and spicy. Wobbly Wine as Pop Rocks. (3/09)

Te Mara 2008 Pinot Gris (Central Otago) – Sticky pear, spice, and minerality. Good intensity. Vivid. Neon-electric. I’d call this a CGI pinot gris, and in a good way, but it’s not for everyone. (3/09)

Spy Valley 2007 Pinot Gris (Marlborough) – Grass, pear skin. Balanced but insignificant. (3/09)

Hans 2007 Pinot Gris (Marlborough) – Lotion, dried pear. A lingering impression of something being fried, though it’s not clear what. Weird and not very good. (3/09)

There has been an explosion of pinot gris in New Zealand. Why? Ask winemakers. When they’re being honest, they’ll tell you that it’s a mystery to them, as well. But they’ll be in the process of making one while they tell you that. Whether there’s an insatiable demand for the grape, or just a demand “created” by the fact that there’s rather a lot to sell, the fact is that New Zealand is awash in the stuff.

Fruit-forward, a little sweet, and flaw-free. That’s the recipe for a successful commercial white wine, and so much pinot gris from New Zealand is made this way that its cash-cow role is rather clear to see. But there’s a problem. It’s not that so few rise to any real significance, it’s that even among the bottlings that don’t try, few of them are of much interest at all. In fact, some winemakers will – with an embarrassed tone – tell you exactly that, if you ask. And yet, they’re producing the wine in ever-increasing quantities. By the numbers, less than 200 hectares in 2000 have become over 1300 hectares in 2008, and exports have skyrocketed from 200,000 liters in 2004 to almost 1,300,000 liters in 2008. Who’s buying this stuff? No one I know. Yet there must be a market somewhere. Asia? The UK? Australia?

Pinot gris can be interesting in two ways: rich, mineralistic, and spicy in the mode of Alsace (and the only successful wine of this tasting, the Te Mara, is in that style), or mineral-driven but clean and clear, in the mode of regions Germanic and northeastern Italy. Otherwise, it’s a boring grape that makes offensively inoffensive wine.

Much more is going to have to be done with the grape to convince me that it’s worthwhile for so much of it to be produced in New Zealand. For now, it’s their California chardonnay. And I don’t mean that as a compliment.

Spy Valley 2005 Gewürztraminer (Marlborough) – Mercaptans. Old cashews and tin. Useless. (3/09)

While I’ve often said that gewürztraminer is a grape with which New Zealand could make a big international splash, had they only the will, the fact is that there’s no worldwide clamor for alternative gewürztraminer sources. (In fact, New Zealand’s exports of gewürztraminer fell last year.) Certainly this wine will do nothing to convince anyone. Look to Gisborne and Martinborough for much, much, much better examples, the best of which hold their heads high in the company of Alsace, the unquestioned best region for the grape.

Monkey Bay 2007 Rosé (East Coast) – Disgusting synthetic aromas and flavors. Blech. (3/09)

No comment.

Oyster Bay 2007 Merlot (Hawke’s Bay) – Watermelon Jolly Rancher. In a merlot? No thanks. (3/09)

Kennedy Point 2005 Merlot (Waikehe Island) – Blueberry soup with biting tannin. Ick. (3/09)

Villa Maria “Private Bin” 2007 Merlot/Cabernet Sauvignon (Hawke’s Bay) – Herbed blueberry and blackberry. Simple, clean, and good according to the nose. But the palate? Baked. And the finish is horrid. (3/09)

Trinity Hill 2006 Merlot/Cabernet Sauvignon Gimblett Gravels “The Gimblett” (Hawke’s Bay) – Chunky peanut butter, which melds with a gravelly texture. Incredibly rough. Uninteresting despite the terroir signature. (3/09)

Hans 2001 Merlot/Cabernet Sauvignon “Spirit of Marlborough” (Marlborough) – Ripe fruit (mostly black), fresh tobacco, smoke, and black dirt. A bit short and unsubstantial, but OK. (3/09)

There are quality wines made from the Bordeaux varieties in New Zealand. Obviously, none are represented above (and the prices being asked for these wines are ludicrous in relation to their quality), but they absolutely do exist. And not just from Hawke’s Bay, though that’s where current attention is focused. Waiheke Island has its stars, certainly, but the rest of the (largely unknown in the U.S.) Auckland-surrounding and Northland appellations have potential. Elsewhere, it’s very much a producer-by-producer thing.

Kennedy Point 2007 Syrah (Waiheke Island) – Cassis, blueberry, and cranberry with a long, sugary finish. No good. (3/09)

Trinity Hill 2007 Syrah Gimblett Gravels (Hawke’s Bay) – Blueberry, bark, smoke, and dirt. Drinkable. (3/09)

The Australia-New Zealand rivalry in so many things rarely intrudes on matters vinous. In fact, for a long while the industries complemented each other’s markets: New Zealand imported a lot of hefty Australian reds, while Australia provided a ready market for New Zealand’s crisp, clean whites. Each seemed to be able to fill a perceived hole in the other’s stylistic range. Often, the only time Australia would come up in discussions with New Zealand winemakers would be as contrast to a fairly widespread belief that, given New Zealand’s climates, looking to Australia for viticultural advice would be a mistake. Yes, New Zealand is very clearly a New World producer, and this is reflected in their wines, but in terms of philosophy it was decided that Europe would be the model.

In making this choice, New Zealand chose a difficult path for itself, because the slow advance of vine age, the painstaking revelation of terroir, and the endless search for complexity, balance, and soul necessary to model an industry after Europe (for whether or not one agrees with these characterizations, those are the beliefs being pursued) are not aligned with the most commercially successful New World winemaking practices. New Zealand’s successes have, in fact, come largely along those latter lines: fruit-forward, varietally-designated wines that make an immediate impression. Yet it’s clear, especially from the relentless focus on pinot noir – that most difficult of grapes – that the aspiration to do otherwise remains. And each year, a few more New Zealand wines enter into a conversation in which they can hold their own with their inspirations. Not equality, yet, but quality.

In that process, a minor revelation has snuck up on New Zealand’s winemakers: they can produce high-quality syrah. And that while, at its best, it doesn’t taste like European syrah, it tastes a lot less like Australian shiraz. Power, intensity, concentration…these are not its calling cards. But earth? Underbrush? Sensitivity to terroir? They’re coming along.

New Zealanders can barely contain their glee. No, they’re never going to “beat” the commercial dominance of Aussie shiraz – they could never produce that sort of quantity, even if they uprooted all the sheep and replaced them with syrah vines – but they could, perhaps, drive a deep wedge into a notion that the source for quality New World syrah is their much larger neighbor to the northwest. And they can do it by directly appealing to those who find many Australian shirazes (and some of their Californian and South African counterparts) too brawny. As anyone familiar with the Aussie/Kiwi rivalry can imagine, there’s not much resistance to this idea.

Supposition? Speculation? Not really. Consider: the grape is, almost universally, called syrah – not shiraz – on New Zealand bottles. That’s no accident.

As for the wines in this tasting? They obviously won’t convince anyone of anything.

Farewell to Eden

In customs, we’re greeted by our first sarcastic Aussie, something for which I’ve been gearing myself up after five weeks of New Zealand-esque pleasantry.

“Are you bringing any agricultural products into the country?”

“Just some wine.”

(looking up) “Oh, no. No, no. You can’t bring Kiwi wine into Australia.” (looking over his shoulder, yelling) “Jim, we’ve got two for the lockup here!”

And so it goes. There’s non-sarcastic concern about millimeter-sized bore holes in the wooden bowls we purchased in Nelson, however, and for a while it looks like they might not let them through. Eventually, they relent…after much peering and a few waves of some sort of magic electronic wand. We emerge into the baggage claim area at last, eager to get into the city and begin a new stage of our explorations.

So where’s our luggage?

…continued here.

Olive me

The Nelson area has a lot of eateries, including one frequently-lauded establishment a few steps from our front door. But the locals I’d consulted had arrived at near-universal agreement: Flax (Mapua Wharf, Mapua) is the best of the bunch. And so, we choose it for our final restaurant meal in New Zealand.

Some choices one might like back.

…continued here.

Gulls, guests, & gewürztraminer

Something I’ve noticed about long trips: there’s time for parallels and patterns. On a short jaunt, there’s only the headlong rush of moving and doing. The luxury of stepping back and considering is an expensive one at a clip, but relatively inexpensive when there’s nothing but time. Here, on Tahunanui Beach, our thoughts return to Onetangi. It seems so long ago…everything was laid out before us, all was possibility, and it was impossible to know what might happen, or how things might turn out. Now, very close to leaving these shores, the possibilities are now memories. We know what’s happened, and we know how things turned out. Nearly everything is behind us.

…continued here.

The last of the BWE notes

No one's happier than me to bring these to an end, and only a few months late. That's like some sort of record for me. Anyway, here's the final bunch: Portugal (plus a small handful of Spanish-speaking regions), New Zealand (including one pricey Australian interloper), and South Africa.

Youth gone wild

I don’t know if it’s just another facet of this geographically and historically youthful country, but while grizzled veterans certainly exist, New Zealand’s winemaking scene sometimes seems to be one huge youth movement. Not everyone hosts weekly raves, perhaps, but this youthfulness does contribute to the pervasive energy and optimism of the country’s wine industry.

Continued here...

Faith, less charity, no Hope

Though it’s bright and sunny outside, we’re in a dimly-lit room. Shadows are everywhere. There’s a sepulchral quiet in the air. And I’m beginning to wonder if we’re ever going to taste any wine.

Jenny Wheeler, the sales and marketing director for Greenhough (Patons Rd., RD 1, Hope), is talking to us. Everything she says sounds understated, but the low volume is deceptive; there are some strong opinions being expressed here. We ease into our conversation by commiserating over the problematic 2005 season, which is not going any better at Greenhough than it is elsewhere. Maybe this is the wrong way to start.

Continued here...

Rimu shot

A grape by any other name

Those of us who write about wine for a living know the problem all too well. The eager face of a press agent, or an owner, or (in the worst case) a winemaker, shines down upon us as they ask The Question. “So, what do you think of the wines?”

It’s a sad but true fact that the best producers never, ever ask. They don’t need to. They know…and even if they don’t, they’re confident enough in their work to let it stand or fall on its own merits. And so, the verbalized desire for an on-the-spot assessment is left to those whose wines are, invariably, lacking in some fashion. At which point, the writer must make a choice.

The most indifferent and the most brutally honest will say whatever they think, without mitigation. This is, I suppose, the most ethically defensible position, but it’s not much fun for anyone. Even aside from the issue of saying hurtful things about a person’s passions, the conversation that follows almost always turns into an increasingly useless argument wherein the winery representative claims, “oh, but Bob Smith gave it a gold star,” while the writer is forced to defend some grand notion of subjectivity. Of course, running off to one’s publication of choice with a previously-unspoken truth is, viewed uncharitably, a little bit cowardly. But it does help avoid those really unpleasant personal moments, and that’s why most choose to do it.

In the interim, however, something has to be said. An answer must be delivered, whether or not it satisfies. And so the clever writer will learn how to speak emptiness with eloquence. If it works well enough, everyone’s happy, and the conversation proceeds apace.

But sometimes, it doesn’t work. The writer knows it. The winemaker knows it. Each hapless attempt to avoid the truth is like a little drop of poison, slowly numbing and then, finally, killing the conversation and any connection that might have developed. It’s a slow, mealy-mouthed decline into morbidity. I’ve invented a word for it, and while subsequent research shows that I’m not the first to use the word, I might be the first to define it in this fashion.

Euphemasia. Noun. Elective conversational death by euphemism.

…continued here.

Mapua, missing

What’s Neu?

After a most satisfying midday respite, we drive to a winery that’s open for drop-in visitors, but that was absolutely impenetrable while trying to set up an in-depth visit. Neudorf represents a branch of Nelson winemaking royalty, having garnered a great deal of praise as a local quality leader. And not just local; I’ve seen more of their wines in the States than anyone else from Nelson. Still, they are reputed to be somewhat difficult to reach, so while I’m disappointed, I’m not particularly surprised.

Our tasting is conducted by a serious young man, who pours quickly and with little ceremony, but who answers every question with confident brevity. There are quite a few people around – the winery’s reputation does precede it – and some are enjoying full pours on a nearby patio. It’s possible that the entire population of Mapua is visiting this winery…

…continued here.

Iconoclast dismissed

Shake, bottle & roll

This morning, there was an earthquake. Not a very big one – 6.4 or so – but enough to wake Theresa with middle-of-the-night accusations of bed-shaking. For my part, it’s something rattling upstairs that shakes me to consciousness, and I spend a few fruitless minutes checking for prowlers before finally coming back to bed, blissfully (as yet) unaware of the cause of our disruption.

On any other day like today, an earthquake probably would have been the most shocking thing to happen to us; the most jarring event amongst an otherwise peaceful procession of winery visits and beautiful drives through the viticultural Nelson countryside. But that’s any other day. As an unsettling force that rattles the foundations and disrupts the perspective, an earthquake’s got nothing on Glover’s.

Birds of a feather

On our first attempt at finding Glover’s, we go roaring right past the winery. In retrospect, we never should have turned around. Not that our experience is so horrible – it’s decidedly not – but of all the times that our arrival has somehow put a winemaker or staff member out, this one seems to be the worst.

David Glover is standing in front of us, virtually bathing in his own sweat…a perspiration that continues to bead atop his forehead from a dozen pore-sized springs. His clothes are soaked through, he’s a little dirty (the ever-persistent curse of the working winemaker who’s also in the ad hoc hospitality business), and he’s holding something. A wrench, a hammer, a cudgel...I’m a little too edgy to be sure, because alongside the sweat and the bludgeoning instrument, he’s got a decidedly wild-eyed look to him. When he finally speaks, he’s just about as short as the ever-polite Kiwis can bring themselves to be.

“Yes?” Clipped and laden with impatient meaning, yet delivered through that slightly psychotic smile.

“Um…we have an…uh…appointment?” A blank stare. “Uh, um, Russell called?” I’ve reached that point where every phrase is uttered as a tentative question. Better to avoid any appearance of aggression.

…continued here.

Photo ©Glover’s Vineyard.

Jewel of denial

The original version, with more photos and better formatting, is here.

The world of wine is full of connections, and our second stop on this day is directly connected to our first: Daniel Schwarzenbach is (or perhaps, as of this writing, was) part of the winemaking team at Kahurangi Estate. What a difference a venue makes!

We’re met in a slick tasting/café facility by Greg Day, the owner. He takes us on a brisk tour of the facilities…and I do mean the facilities, as the majority of Day’s narrative is about tanks, bottling lines, barrels, vineyard purchases and total tonnage, with a good deal of marketing-speak thrown in for good measure In other words, not the stuff one usually hears at a quality-oriented winery, though to be fair Day is the business side of things, and not a winemaker. Kahurangi (the Maori word means “precious jewel” or “treasured possession,” among other things; there’s a certain aptness to that) is much more a smooth commercial operation than most places we’ll visit on this trip, and this character comes through very clearly in its lineup; the primary quality of Kahurangi’s wines is a lack of overt flaws. I suppose that’s rather the point, but it’s also somewhat uninspiring.

It’s also a shame, as Kahurangi holds an interesting distinction as the owner of the oldest vines on the South Island: a tight collection of riesling planted in 1973. In other words, not old at all by European standards, which helps point out just how adolescent the local winemaking culture really is. In addition to the estate vineyards (twenty-six acres), there is also the leased Five Oaks Vineyard (thirty acres) that, at the time of our visit, has not yet been fully utilized. Still, overall, Kahurangi buys more grapes than it owns. Most are from the Moutere sub-region of Nelson, though the appellations on each bottling tell the tale. Along with the standard palette of regional varieties, there’s a small trickle of montepulciano (that, unfortunately, we don’t get to taste). A slight majority of the wines are exported (mostly to Australia, the U.K., and the U.S.), and the winery employs screwcaps on all but the 30% of exports headed for the conservative markets of mainland Europe.

Kahurangi Estate 2004 Riesling “Reserve” (Moutere) – We start by tasting the old-vine flagship, which leads to a concern that everything will be downhill from here. (As it turns out, not an entirely unjustified fear.) There’s green-leafed apple and concentrated steel – the latter mostly apparent on the finish – amidst a mild overlay of residual sugar. A bit of petrol is also present. The wine shows a fair amount of intensity, but it’s not a consistent expression. One suspects that more could be done with these grapes, but then that assumes an inherent strength of the terroir about which I am ignorant.

Kahurangi Estate 2004 Riesling (Moutere) – Lots of petrol here, with tart and zingy grapefruit and a hint of pear. Starts strong, finishes very flat. Eh.

Kahurangi Estate 2004 Sauvignon Blanc (Nelson) – The 2004 vintage was rife with problematic and/or nonexistent ripening, and this wine (harvested under 20 brix) is no exception. indeed, there’s a definite Serrano chile character to the grassy, leafy, lime rind palate. Underripe, for sure.

Kahurangi Estate 2004 “Unwooded” Chardonnay (Nelson) – No wood…and no malo, either. This is the estate’s biggest seller. Unfortunately, the wine is aromatically dead. Crisp, malic apple dominates the palate, along with greengage plum, but there’s just not much here. It’s inoffensive enough, I suppose.

Kahurangi Estate 2003 Chardonnay (Moutere) – 70% malolactic, and subjected to a mix of barrels and staves, showing clove-spiced apple with a good deal of orange juice on the finish. Basic and pleasant enough in this style, though without anything else to say.

Kahurangi Estate 2003 Chardonnay Mt. Arthur (Moutere) – 100% American oak (which is strange, as I’ve written elsewhere in my notebook that Day claims to use all French oak…no doubt one entry or the other is an error). Sweaty banana with other tropical aromas, crisp on the midpalate and then bitter and resinous on the finish. It’s woody, to be sure, and though there’s certainly fruit, the wood imprint here is off-putting more for its character than its quantity.

Kahurangi Estate 2004 Gewürztraminer (Moutere) – 18 grams/liter residual sugar; the result of a deliberately stopped fermentation. Thick, oily peach and orange give this wine a syrupy texture, and a decided lack of acid (though a trace is noticeable at the very tail end of the finish) adds to this quality. There’s a touch of skin bitterness as well, which isn’t uncommon for gewürztraminer. Drinkable.

Kahurangi Estate 2003 Pinot Noir (Nelson) – Slightly dirty, showing plum and blackberry on a tart, juicy palate. This sharpens, over-focuses, and turns bitter and tannic on the finish. A shame, as the wine was – for a moment at least – building towards actual quality.

Trout Valley 2004 Pinot Noir (Nelson) – This is the second label of Kahurangi, and bottled one month previous to our visit; Day muses that it might end up as a Kahurangi-labeled wine after all, though I don’t know if this actually happened or not. Pretty and floral, with a dusty flower pollen texture. There are minor suggestions of underripeness, but mostly this is crisp and food-friendly, though not much else can be demanded of it.

Trout Valley 2002 Cabernet Sauvignon (Nelson) – Eucalyptus, thick blackberry, walnut and bark. Strange, but not as bad as I might have predicted. I guess that’s praise…still, I suspect Nelson is not the right climate for cabernet.

Kahurangi Estate 2003 “Late Harvest” Riesling (Moutere) – From the oldest vines on the property. Gravel and diesel, with sweet lemon, ultra-ripe apple, and lilies. Botrytis is clearly present on the finish, to the extent that the wine begins to tip over into the realm of rot, but otherwise this is balanced and long-finishing, and unquestionably the best wine in the entire lineup.

Kahurangi Estate 2002 Sauvignon Blanc (Moutere) – Zingy, showing capsicum and minerality with a tart, grapey quality. Which would all be fine, except that there’s also a generous serving of canned peas along for the ride…not an unusual fate when one ages a sauvignon blanc that probably wasn’t meant for aging.

Five Oaks 2004 Sauvignon Blanc (Moutere) – Ripe apple, green plum and lemon. Ripe and rather fine. Why is this so much better than most of the rest of the Kahurangi sauvignons? The difference is rather dramatic.

A commercially satisfactory tasting, albeit an uninspiring one. Thankfully, we’re on our way to another appointment. Will it be any different?

As it turns out, we have no idea…

Bach in black

(The original version, with more photos and more compatible formatting, is here.)

At a picnic table surrounded by vineyards, on a beautifully sunny day, the Blackenbrooks lay out their history. Starting with the fact that “Blackenbrook” isn’t really their name. Or rather, it is, but only from a certain point of view…

Daniel Schwarzenbach, Swiss but a twenty-year veteran of New Zealand, has an odd hybrid accent…is it Swiss cadences but Kiwi verbiage, or the other way around?...while his wife Ursula (they met at a pinot noir tasting), newer to these green lands, sounds somewhat more Old World. Their young son, still drowsy from a mid-morning nap, doesn’t say much of anything.

Here in Nelson, they live on a pleasant, secluded estate full of young vines, and youth is the principal quality demonstrated by their wines, though there’s much inherent promise as well. On the premises are pinot gris, riesling, gewürztraminer, chardonnay, sauvignon blanc, pinot noir, and a little montepulciano, though I never find out where the latter grapes end up. The focus here is clearly on the aromatic grapes most commonly associated with Alsace, plus pinot noir (planted in, but most definitely not associated with, Alsace). Most everything exists in multiple clones, as befits this sort of exploratory project.

The Schwarzenbachs’ vineyards are currently spread through two of Nelson’s sub-regions, with a third coastal source on the way. Soils are clay and gravelly clay. Everything is hand-worked, fruit is thinned twice (dropping 20% each time) and subject to sorting trays in the vineyard at harvest, pruning and canopy management are done with an eye on air movement (to help avoid spraying), and the end result is fruit at about 6 tons per hectare (8 tons/hectare for sauvignon blanc).

In-winery work is fairly standard. Yeasts are, for now, inoculated, but Daniel hopes to move away from this in the future. All wines are under screwcap. The recipe here is both familiar and basic, but despite the innocence of youth, the wines already show a certain individuality vs. their regional counterparts. That’s a positive sign.

Blackenbrook 2004 Sauvignon Blanc (Nelson) – Clean and crisp, with intense acidity lent just enough support to create a balanced wine. Aromas come in the form of green apple, passion fruit, light but ripe red pepper, pear juice, and dried pineapple. In other words, this wine straddles two commercially-relevant styles – the crisp, peppery sauvignon that made New Zealand’s sauvignon splash, and the more modern fruit salad version – merged with élan. It has some length, too, so it just might last for a few years. This doesn’t particularly stand out among New Zealand’s many sauvignons, but it is more deftly done than most.

Blackenbrook 2004 Pinot Gris (Nelson) – Far too many New Zealand versions of this ubiquitously-planted grape are indifferent, at best. In an attempt to avoid such indifference, this wine sits on its fine lees for a while…not an uncommon technique, but one that helps add character and weight when the fruit is of sufficient quality. However, 2004 was a difficult vintage for this grape, and harvest occurred on the 4th of May despite an ardent desire to let the fruit hang longer. The result is still pretty good, and I’d like to see what could be done in a better vintage. There’s light pear and light residual sugar, good yeasty/leesy weight, and a fair amount of floral spice lingering about. It finishes a little sticky, though.

There are two styles of chardonnay here, the better to satisfy both restaurants and the conflicting desires of different markets.

Blackenbrook 2004 Chardonnay (Nelson) – Half barrel-fermented and half in stainless steel, taken off its lees at blending and allowed 100% (spontaneous) malolactic, followed by aging in 30% American oak. Light and open, showing cream, apricot and a lot of really fresh orchard fruit. Light- to medium-weight, with a little butter and wood spice, and then nice floral notes emerge on the creamy finish. Quite balanced and pleasant, handling its oak well but never heading over the top.

Blackenbrook 2004 “Barrel Fermented” Chardonnay (Nelson) – Grapes picked at 24 brix. 100% oak here…60% new, with 90% of both types of wood sourced from America, with the remaining 10% only older French barrels. The wine spends 9-10 months in wood. 100% malo. The nose is full of intense clove, cinnamon and creamy ripe orange and peach, with a caramel note intertwined. Big and ripe on the palate, showing more peach, this time braced with slightly crisper apple. Intense, full and lush, this cleans up its act a bit on the finish, which is crisp and juicy. A very good wine with aging potential, and the likelihood that it will handle its wood well over that period.

St. Jacques is Blackenbrook’s second label, but in reality both of the following pinot noirs were picked the same day; the principal difference is clonal, with the St. Jacques coming mostly from New Zealand’s ubiquitous 10/5, and the regular sourced from Pommard and Dijon variants (there are eight different noir clones in the estate’s various vineyards). Grapes here are picked and vinified clone-by-clone, and in the end the divergence is obvious.

St. Jacques 2004 Pinot Noir (Nelson) – As with the pinot gris, a later harvest was hoped for, but the onslaught of precipitation prevented that. Light plum and earth, blueberry, thyme and other herbs, with a light impact supported by only a little tannin. Fresh, fruity and fun, this is a wine of friendly immediacy, but little future.

Blackenbrook 2004 Pinot Noir (Nelson) – Gorgeous floral aromatics pair with light red and purple plum, anise liqueur (not a dominant element) and graphite-infused cedar on the palate. Gritty but ripe tannin, smoothed-over and perhaps a little shorter than one might prefer, with the tannin still fairly obvious on the finish. Despite this, the wine is fresh and lively. A good effort.

Oh, and as for the name? As any German-speaking reader will already have divined, “Blackenbrook” is a fairly literal transliteration of “Schwarzenbach” into English.

Ready, willing, Abel (New Zealand, pt. 44)

One adventure awaits. Just one more commune with nature, before we jet off to Sydney and the bustle of the urban life. We don’t know what we’ll find there. There’s more to do here, of course…wine tasting, food, perhaps even a restful afternoon on a beach. But on a trip punctuated by the relentless beauty of the wild and framed by its inexorable seduction, this is the final chapter.

But first, we have to get there.

(Continued, with tons of photos and an instruction manual on how to catch a taxi in a place with no roads, here.)

Clarkless (New Zealand, pt. 43)

(The original version, with many more photos…and bonus alpaca porn…is here.)

Over-packing

If there’s one thing we’ve learned, it’s that the Kiwis love their breakfasts. We figure that the average New Zealander must burn about three million calories before lunch, given the size of the morning repasts they eagerly supply to visitors both foreign and domestic.

This morning, Shirley is at the door bearing freshly-laid eggs, bacon, sausage, fruit, the ever-present muesli, milk, and the makings of coffee…so we don’t have the heart to tell her that we’re only halfway through yesterday’s bounty. Well, no matter. We’ll bring the remnants with us.

Spring following spring

If there’s another thing we’ve learned, it’s that New Zealand isn’t exactly for lovers of flat. Fiords, glaciers, mountains, volcanoes, islands both small and large…it’s rare to find any sort of level expanse, as probably befits such a geologically youthful landmass. We’re leaving one of the very few – the fertile plains of Canterbury – for one of the very few others, a destination with tiny plots of flatness surrounded by the usual tumult and jumble of Aotearoa’s coastline.

But first, we have a long – a very long – road to travel.

At first, the way is gentle, shooting straight through the vine-covered Waipara – we wave to Pegasus Bay and Black Estate as we pass – but in the town that gives the wine region its name, we turn northwest, abandoning the coastal road (towards Marlborough) to our memories of a trip three years in the past, and start the winding climb to the thermal retreat of Hanmer Springs. The town is much-heralded by local tourist organizations, but on our arrival it appears to be…well, a spa. That’s it. Just a spa. Oh sure, there’s a (tiny) town attached, and the setting is rather dramatically beautiful, and spa towns have a long Old World history…but we’re not here for spas; New Zealand has more than enough naturally-occurring restoratives for our purposes.

And so, at Hanmer Springs we follow the (mostly) westward road…unless you’re a sheep farmer, it’s the only road…which absolutely redefines scenic isolation. Rivers, mountains and valley vistas are even more dramatic than they might be for their complete lack of competing tourism; it’s as if we’re the only automobile on this two-lane highway. The Lewis Pass crossing passes uneventfully, and we swing ’round to the north via the amusingly rebellious micro-village of Spring Junction, a town seemingly populated by a few hundred motorcycles and one rollicking bar.

The road flattens for a time, but it’s an illusion provided by the smooth cut of a river valley – the spiky, tree-covered mountains persist on either side – and soon enough, the road starts yet another steep incline into the Brunner Range, before falling, precipitously and with a final series of writhing curves, into the gentle village of Murchison. From here, it’s but the remainder of a gentle descent – albeit, at times, wildly curvy – to the agricultural and pictorial cornucopia that is Nelson.

As a result of the many twists in the highway, I fear my long-suffering wife is a bit nauseous…but, thankfully, the roads soon straighten. Wakefield and Brightwater come and go, just waypoints in a long series of part-residential, part-industrial, part-commercial streets that crisscross this fertile crescent. Every dozen structures or so, there’s a vendor of local produce, and in between those are artists and artisans of every stripe. Our road dead-ends at the beautiful, sun-brightened waves of Tasman Bay. It’s then that it hits us: this is California. Cheaper and much less insincere, but California nonetheless. No wonder so many Americans move here.

And the sun shines on the bay

We find our final New Zealand lodging without much difficulty, but entering its garage proves a bit more difficult. The Harbourlight Villa (365 Wakefield Quay, Nelson…currently for sale, and thus off the rental market) is right on the main coastal road, and its narrow and mostly blind entrance onto a high-speed byway is a bit of a heart-stopping experience. Thankfully, the interior of the garage is a rotating disk, so a car can be repositioned forwards for a similarly jittery departure.

The villa itself is majestic, with expansive windows open to a wide view of the Bay and the peaks of Abel Tasman in the distance, and though the upstairs can be a bit noisy from passing traffic with all windows ajar, the downstairs master bedroom is insulated and quiet, with a small garden-like enclosure attached. Otherwise, all is modern (especially the kitchen), colorful, and pure architectural and highly-designed fun.

Theresa settles onto the patio, which overlooks both bay and street, with her journal and a glass of wine, and draws curious – and occasionally yearning – stares from virtually every passing pedestrian, while I join the aforementioned walkers for a leisurely stroll of our environs. Despite the traffic, our street is mostly residential, and there’s not much to see aside from the beautiful waterfront views. Eventually, however, hunger pangs arise, and we nervously extract our trusty automobile from its garage with an accelerator-pounding lurch, but more sedately meandering towards town in search of the seafood for which the region is well-known. It doesn’t take long. Local clams are available in abundance, and a quick pan full of them…with wine, bacon and chiles…both compliments and contrasts their briny sweetness.

Bannockburn Heights “Akarua” 2004 Pinot Gris (Central Otago) – Not very showy, but what’s here is clean pear skin and windblown minerality. It carries just a hint of spice and fatness. I liked this bottle a little better at the winery; now, it seems somewhat wan.

Black Estate 2003 Chardonnay (Waipara) – Butterscotch oak and minerals tasted through a thick screen. It gains fat with food, but what it persistently lacks is complexity…or, for that matter, interest. Despite the weight gain, I think this is “better” – and it’s not good – by itself.

Sated, we retreat once more to the patio, watching the descending sun light up the bay in a rainbow of fires and shades. It’s absolutely breathtaking, and seems to go on for hours. But it’s also tinged with a measure of sadness, for now our New Zealand adventure really is coming to a close. Just a few days remain. How will we spend them?

Amongst olives, grapevines, and sweaty, churlish winemakers, of course. And, also, antisocial importers. Can’t forget them.

Disclosure: the Black Estate Chardonnay is a gift from Russell Black.

TN: Waipara the slate clean

Donaldson Family “Pegasus Bay” 2000 Pinot Noir (Waipara) – Licorice, strawberry seed and orange pith slashed by vibrant acidity and a black layer of tannin. There are smoky elements to the aroma (punctuated by black and pink peppercorns, plus a rocky texture) that hint at pinot-as-syrah, but the structure’s completely different. This bottle is much less well-knit than others have been, and I wonder if the wine might not be in the very early stages of crack-up. (5/07)

TN: Bury Goldwater

Goldwater 2005 Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough) – Herbal and grassy. This gets past the underripe chile pepper and most (though not all) of the slightly underripe bell pepper, but doesn’t swing the other way into tropical sweetness, which is good. There’s some pear residue, which helps smooth things. That said, it’s a bit on the wan side. (4/07)

Black harvest (New Zealand, pt. 42)

(The original version, with more photos, is here.)

Acid redux

After our ridiculously indulgent visit to Pegasus Bay, the thought of more wine – or worse, food – serves to make us both a little nauseous. Yet we must rally, somehow, for we’ve a long-promised appointment. After a proto-nap back at the alpaca farm, we’re once again rolling north through the Waipara’s undulating hills and valleys. But the roiling in my stomach isn’t solely due to the aftereffects of lunch.

Three years earlier, during our first visit to New Zealand, I’d criticized a pinot noir from Black Estate as being internationalized and woody. While planning our current jaunt, the wine’s U.S. importer (who was doing us a lot of favors otherwise) had brought up the review, claiming that I’d missed the call. He suggested a retaste. I agreed.

The retaste, however, soon became an invitation to the winemaker’s home. To this I agreed as well, but with trepidation. What if I still didn’t like the wines? I’ve no problem being honest about wine quality, but there’s a level of inconsideration and rudeness which I’m unwilling to cross, and that line is drawn a lot more closely when I’m someone’s houseguest. I considered backing out, but resolved to just suck it up and go. After all, how bad could it be?

Black and white

Russell Black is, like most Kiwis, relaxed and affable. It helps us relax in turn…at least a little bit…as he welcomes us into his beautiful home, which is a gorgeous melding of local and Asian themes. The latter is, no doubt, the influence of his wife Kumiko. She’s a chef of some repute, or at least she was at some point in the past, and she’s as charming as her husband.

But mine are not the only worries this evening, nor are they even the most important ones. Kumiko is unwell (though we don’t find out just how unwell until after our visit; no doubt she prefers it that way), and as of our arrival, the exact plans for the evening are still in flux…dinner chez Black, dinner at some unidentified restaurant, or just a tasting and conversation. It turns out that Kumiko is preparing a small meal (which turns out to be three fabulous courses led by delicious cuts of venison), and in the meantime we’re going to taste verticals of the winery’s two bottlings.

We sit at a wooden table on the patio watching the sun’s last rays drift across the valley, which shades everything in dramatic dark greens and blues. Russell arrives with his arms full of bottles, and we dive right into the tasting while he spools out an occasional bit of background.

The chardonnays are from estate-owned vineyards, planted mostly to the Mendoza clone. This surprises me (less so after I taste the wines), but Russell insists “I actually love it,” noting that “if you get the Mendoza ripe, it can make a really nice wine.” (There’s a little clone 222 as well.) However, the chardonnay’s future is bleak no matter which clone is under discussion. 2004 featured frost, a wet flowering, spray damage, hail and beetles, and 2005 was another bad year…though for different reasons…which is leading him to consider giving up the vineyard (in search of another or to concentrate on pinot noir, he doesn’t say).

Black Estate 2004 Chardonnay (Waipara) – Just bottled (in March 2005), showing minerals and stone fruit, wet grapefruit and a watery finish. The wine is overly-restrained…balanced and elegant, but just not very “there.” Post-bottling shock is a possibility, but there needs to be more to this wine.

Black Estate 2003 Chardonnay (Waipara) – Creamier than the ’04, with grapefruit, orange and ripe apple studded with clove and nutmeg. The finish is lithe and mineral-infused. It’s a better wine than the ’04 in almost every respect, but it’s still somewhat indistinct and submissive.

Black Estate 2002 Chardonnay (Waipara) – A shy nose, leading to a very creamy plate that – at long last – shows some filling-out and expansiveness. The finish is a little odd, though, as if it’s hesitant to carry through on its promises. The best of the bunch, but still...

The chardonnays show a good continuity of style – terroir, winemaking, or whatever – but that style just isn’t interesting enough. Is the problem an overly-aggressive filter? Weak fruit? Or just tentative winemaking? It’s hard to say, but it might not matter.

Peaked pinot

From there, we move on to pinot noirs. Russell explains that these, like all their wines, are from vines on their own roots; there’s no phylloxera in the Waipara. And there’s a change in the works, as the wines – previously made by Mark Rattray – are now under the tutelage of Muddy Water’s winemaker and vineyard manager. It’s too early to tell if that change is going to be significant.

Black Estate 2004 Pinot Noir (barrel sample) (Waipara) – Red cherry with maraschino accents and plum. Some bitterness on the finish.

Black Estate 2003 Pinot Noir (Waipara) – Corked.

Black Estate 2003 Pinot Noir (Waipara) – Ripe strawberry with minor green notes. Still moderately tight. There’s light tannin and a zingy, almost tingly mouthfeel. Decent raw materials that never really come together, and that green note is worrisome.

Black Estate 2002 Pinot Noir (Waipara) – Slightly sweaty and horsy, with roasted raspberries and a powdery texture. This seems to be maturing rather quickly, and in a fairly odd fashion.

Black Estate 2001 Pinot Noir (Waipara) – Balanced, with dark red fruit and gravel. The finish is elegant and pretty, though there’s eventually a drying element. Most of this wine’s qualities are exhibited around its exterior, as there’s a definite flattening on the midpalate. Good, but it’s fading quickly.

Black Estate 2000 Pinot Noir (Waipara) – Rocks and sweat, with strawberry seeds dominated a shy nose. The palate is earth and sand, and it turns softly pretty on the finish. However, this is a very insubstantial wine.

Black Estate 1999 Pinot Noir (Waipara) – More balanced and fuller than anything I’ve yet tasted, with soft red fruit that feels like cotton candy in the mouth (without the sweetness), earth and moderately-light, seed-like tannin. This is maturing nicely, and it’s by far the class of the lineup.

Unfortunately, these wines show a general decline from oldest to youngest, which doesn’t bode well for their future. Again, one wonders at the reasons, though a clue may be derived from a conversation we have about screwcaps (on the heels of the corked 2003). Russell has no interest in making the closure switch that so many of his compatriots are making, claiming, “I don’t want to be a leader, I’m fine with being a follower.” And while that’s not an indefensible position to take when the subject is seal composition, the wines themselves also express that philosophy.

Darkness falls

We sip a few of the wines over dinner (they do improve – marginally – with food, but in a highly submissive fashion; the whites do better than the reds), listening to fascinating tales from Russell & Kumiko’s past. They’ve been everywhere, and done everything, and their lives are rich tapestries of texture and complexity. As we eat, the sun slips behind the central mountain ranges and the darkening sky lights up in striated fire. It’s an awe-inspiring sunset.

…but it’s a sunset tinged with mourning, and a sadly symbolic one as well. Black Estate produced no wine in 2005, and 2004 may have been the winery’s last vintage. For there was a much greater loss in 2005: Kumiko lost her long battle with cancer, not too many months after our visit. Some vintages are more difficult than others…and sometimes, no matter how beloved the vines, the vineyard can’t be saved.

Disclosures: wine, dinner, and two gift bottles provided for free. A gift of Felton Road Pinot Noir Block 3 is given in return.