It was fucking nuts. Nobody knew really what they were doing, but through vineyard to bottle to market many winemakers pushed their big mistake through the dumb wine press hacks and straight on into the bank.
Kurrajong on Peter's Creek
"Check these," he said after he'd tasted these bottles all his day long. "Interesting."
I make clear that I rent a cottage on Yangarra. I love watching the development of Peter's plan to devote the entire vineyard to the varieties I call 'North-west Mediterranean,' But I have no commercial connection with, or investment in the Jackson Family, the Estate's Napa Valley-based owners.
Call me a crofter who drinks more than he shears.
Not only does this wine remind me of that smell that slays you when you take the top off your pumpkin, but it made me want that whole business mmediately. All that soft-boiled peanut and cream and white onion, caramel, umami, aminos, and then the sullen steely acidity slumbering away, the great preservative, at the bottom of the dazzle. 93+ points
Next is the leaf canopy, and the way the vine doctors manipulate it to achieve that ideal dappled balance of shade and sunlight: the russett skin of the Roussanne seems particularly fussy about this matter of fluttery on-off light as the breeze shuffles the leaves about.
And the third, of course, is the winemaking, as Peter and his crew gradually screw closer to the ideal recipe. Which, of course, does not exist.
SO THERE. Expecting you to take my praise by the pinch - living in the midst of it, I must be influenced; you should cut my points in half - I think Roussanne is an ideal variety for a place like McLaren Vale, and in particular a slightly elevated place like this, with its unusual blend of geologies and gentle maritime breezes of constant humidity.