A delicious wine. . . a perfumers nose. . . distinct, beautiful and apart. . . the most rhubarb smelling wine I can recall. . . tobacco, raspberry, sour cherry. . . sharp and bitting, maybe some will find it too jagged and jangled, but I'm a fan. Yes.

My last bottle from the first clutch. Languid and uncoiled, autumnal; the tension is mostly gone but the line unbroken. . . Defiant to start - bottle stink, flint and curry leaf. Mature, spiced, clean. A quick and sharp opening, some mid palate sweetness and a savoury finish. Relaxed with nothing to prove. . .

Before.

Ten years old and almost perfect. A hermetic seal and a welcome fog of adjectives. Rubber and mercaptan disappear almost as soon as I think the words to be replaced by game and leather, red dust, cola, ginger and sarsaparilla. They use a different spice mix in New Zealand. Savoury and expansive, perhaps a touch sweet in the middle, terrific softness and poise; a super wine.

Before.
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Denmark, Western Australia. 11.2%. Chardonnay.

A contemporary Australian chardonnay nose - struck and smouldering, peach skins and white pepper, underneath a current of green bean. . . Despite the lactone edge this is lean and angular in the mouth, gangly and awkward. . . though I love acidic wines, this seems too thin and fragile. .

Trousseau - aka bastardo, sibling of more esteemed sauvignon and chenin and if you believe the DNA trail child of savagnin - the Jura staple. . .

It's not immediately likeable - distinct and cantankerous from the open, the charm is much later and easily missed. . .

Nutty and oxidised and curiously - oregano. . . Bold, full and abrasive, there's a fleeting moment of mid palate softness - tobacco and raisins - before rasping, tongue wringing tannins.

Amphora raised, hand picked and left of skins. . .

A delicious wine, though any trace of place has surely been obscured by the method. A citrus fog, ginger spice, musk and flint. Captivating but good luck naming the place or indeed grape. . . Flashes of pink, cloudy. . . Fleshy but bone dry in the mouth - crisp and crunchy, super texture - it seems to burst and crack and again there is something perfume like and invigorating about the feel and the shape.

I've been trying to recreate a childhood food memory, this try closer than before, but it's still missing something. . . meat perhaps. . . my daughter has become a vegetarian.

Being a non conformist, I've been cooking my noodles in my medium sized paella - it works better than a wok I think - the heat more evenly distributed and I can use it to serve directly.
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The penultimate Great Western before it became St. Peter.

A relic, poorly kept too, but still in fine form despite the soft cork. . . Mature and stinky to begin, then well worn leather, fruit cake and ginger spice. Mature and expected. Lush and softened - tobacco leaf, the sting of acid moderated by the sweetness and experience of age. Excellent.

After a carnivorous wet dream, I find I've got reflux, insomnia and an incredibly dry mouth. .

Though I try to be catholic in my love of things vinous, I don't drink a lot of sauvignon blanc, which perhaps explains why this bottle has lingered and lingered in my fridge. . .

Coal river fruit, whole bunches, wild fermented and kept in large barrels. It shows. Melon to start, but then wild and green - grass, herbs, not quite asparagus - sharp, edgy, nervous. Very assertive in the mouth, texture like perfume with a curious spike of ginger heat to end.
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