ITALIANATE LOVELIES FROM OZ ALPS

Castagna Beechworth Un Segreto 2010

 $75; 13% alcohol; Diam cork; 95+ points 

Disarming Sangiovese and Shiraz from the solid granite of the Castagna family vineyard on a huge rise near Beechworth?  I don't mean disarming as in seductive or lace undies or anything like that.  I mean as in chopping your friggin arms off.  See, I reach that point and I'm already getting too many images on the screen.  Haven't even mentioned the Alps humping south, or the green honeyed smell of that buffalo grass air.  This is the most immediately vibrant of the Castagnas here on my table.  It may not be the best, but who gives a fig?  It may be eventually.  This is Heaven.  It's out there.  This one has an electric blue flicker and that ozone crackle after the lightning hits the blackberry vines. There's some doughy crust to the pie, and maybe some creamy zabaglione with a blue juniper cutting edge, swarf on the floor.  Much rude slurping.  Italy knows. Two days open and its acid has a sort of comforting fatty lactic curl like human milk. Oh Mummy. Umami. A work of rare understanding of earth, sky, table and sensuality. 

Pizzini King Valley Nebbiolo 2010 

$48; 13.8% alcohol; Diam cork; 92+++ 

Victoria's King Valley is not Italy's Barolo, but it's got the Pizzinis in it, which puts it out there.  You don't get many families of any sort getting so much from their valley, in exchange for putting some tireless generations back in.  These people don't seem to do anything other than make exquisite food and wine and then talk about it like there was nuthin' else to do.  When you're there, there IS nuthin' else, so you simply surrender with one of those foolish grins that money cannot buy.  With all that in mind, I'm not about to mistake this wine for a Barolo, but it sure is King Valley Nebbiolo of a very high order and I wish I had a few cases for the dungeon.  Dust, leather, burled walnut - it smells like a '66 Maserati Sebring with a bucket of maraschino cherries somebody tipped over in the back seat. Which could have happened on the way to Barolo, come to think of it.  Maybe we just have to wait til we get there.  A beautiful thing.