Pinot Noir, indeed any wine, from the East coast of Tasmania is rare. James Halliday lists five producers in this (unofficial) sub-region, a few of which appear to be nascent operations. Despite this lack of scale, the area has an enviable reputation for Pinot Noir, the present wine being one of the higher profile labels.
I've been drinking a few Bourgognes lately and this wine, if nothing else, is a great exercise in calibration. I smelled it expecting, almost craving, the familiar aroma of instant gratification. Instead, I smelled nothing. So I smelled again, and realised the aroma profile is on another level entirely from stereotypically "drink now" Pinot. There's very little fruit, for starters, and I mean that as a point of interest rather than a criticism. Instead of bouncy berries, there are herbs from an English garden and a sappiness the character of which is halfway between grape skins and twigs. With time and a lot of swirling, there is some deep spice and a hint of jellied plums. It never sings, but it's densely flavoured, and hence one suspects it is simply too young to have found its voice.
Entry is cool and suave, velvet-like in the caress of its mouthfeel and dark flavour profile. There's no deviation from the seriousness of the nose, yet the palate achieves a certain deliciousness not evident before. The middle palate is ultra-clean and shows attractively herbal berry fruit atop remarkably fine, smooth tannins. The flavour seems relatively complex without feeling etched or detailed, thanks to a fullness of body combined with relaxed acidity. The after palate displays some vanilla oak influence, quite subtle, along with a lift of berry fruit. The finish doesn't last especially long.
The intent to create a quality wine seems clear, and it achieves an impressive level of sophistication. Yet I'm left wanting more; something vulgar or outré that stamps its personality on what is, to me anyway, a wine that is almost cold in its poise and perfection.
Update: open a couple of days, I've been granted my wish. It has gone quite interesting and a bit funky, with sweet and sour sauce type flavours mixing it with oak and more generous fruit. Certainly thought-provoking.
Julian, could you please explain to me the difference between "herbs from an English garden" and "herbs from an Australian garden"? And could the descriptor perhaps be more specific, as in "herbs from a South Australain garden". I need to know as I am attending a very important wine dinner on Wednesday and must be able to pin down every wine I taste without resorting to my stock TN of "cavendish banana"
Yours sincerely
j
Jeremy,
Oh dear, I thought you told me you were an experienced taster. Clearly, however, you are yet to reach the point of distinguishing between herb gardens of varying geographic origins in your wine. I am thus resigned to being told there is banana in every wine to be tasted this Wednesday. That's OK. I will still smile and be polite.
Yours distractedly,
Julian.