Coriole McLaren
Vale Chenin Blanc 2014
$16; 12.5% alcohol;
screwcap; 92+ points
Only a few years ago I attended a Meet Your Maker
tasting, where a large mob of Queensland wine retailers and waiters were flown
in to be shown the best McLaren Vale has to offer. They came crusty and yawning
by bus straight from the airport to be confronted with a breakfast table
groaning with about thirty local white wines. There wasn't much audible
groaning from the visitors, but the nonplussed faces and semi-somnambulent
arse-scratching indicated internal groanings: only the brightest tasters honed
in to two or three wines which I agreed were the best there, and perhaps should
have been the only ones presented. Coriole's Chenin blanc was one.
Coriole proprietor Mark Lloyd seems to have had an
epiphany since then, hiring a hot new winemaker, Alex Sherrah, formerly of O'Leary-Walker, and
establishing new vineyards on different geologies. They're trialling a wide
range of varieties, mainly from Italy, with much more skill and, I trust, more business
success than many. On my recent visit, I drank experiments of this and that
from here and there: singularly impressive wines all: watch for their Picpoul
over the next years. I tasted a cracker first crop 2014 Alex had made in a bin.
But still, the Coriole Chenin - an ancient Loire Valley
variety - remains one of the Vales' best whites, and at this price stands out
as the district's top blonde bargain. This newie could be their best yet. Alex's
previous experience with the O'Leary-Walker Rizza kings shines through.
Mark joked that years ago I'd written the infamous line
about one vintage smelling like an old lady's handbag, a descriptor that has
always amused such connoisseurs as the legendary Peter Goers, who thought I
meant a hooker, and not my grandmother, who was married to a street preacher. At
that bonnie table at Coriole, we talked of the aroma of handbags being more
along the lines of mobile phones and sex toys these days, so the original
metaphor seems rather diluted given the current market and the naughty
dreamings of young Goers.
This vintage reminds me even more of the face powder, Oil
of Ulan, sachet of lavendar, scented hankies and leather-bound New Testament my
granny's bag exuded when I'd consult it to pinch the odd sixpence. Perhaps one
of the thrills of pouring it is the edgy risk of being caught. It takes me a
while to realise I can wallow around in here with no such threat. It's a
disarming, sweet and heady bouquet, with just a hint of lemon pith giving it
edge. It has perfect unction, acidity and flavour. It's fresh and bright, clean
as a whistle, and manages that rare trick of being both soothing and exciting.
It has just a touch of butter, which triggers hunger for the more oily molluscs
and crustaceans: scallops, prawns, crayfish and the like.
This wine would be a bargain at twice the price.
That's not stonemason's mortar between the river stones: it's one solid chunk of riverbed, with ancient mudstone holding the much older rounded rocks together ... just one piece of the fascinating Coriole walls
Coriole McLaren
Vale Fiano 2014
$25; 12.5% alcohol;
screw cap; 93 points
An old Roman grape, Fiano's a buzzword around the traps
in recent years, but many of the initial offerings are low on the whelm factor.
Not so here. Coriole first planted this variety in 2001 - Australia's first
offering was their 2005. The wine has a rustic gooseberry jam aroma, with a
tidy burlap edge to tickle and prickle the nostrils. There's also a good smell
of pears: maybe a burlap sack full of them, ripe. To drink, it has big presence
and an oiliness to offer counterpoint to its bright, neat acidity, and more
pears: this time poaching in lemon juice and sauternes. It's like the
Passe-Crassagne, the lovely Norman cross of pear with quince. It even has a
little of that grainy mouthfeel of quince. The whole experience seems to come
from somewhere in the distant past, when a gradual afternoon's accubation was
much preferred to a quick tuck-in sitting up. Bring me another Guinea fowl,
prithee, and yes, more poached pears. Now, could you massage my neck?
Coriole Lalla
Rookh Adelaide Hills Fiano 2013
Not yet released;
12.5% alcohol; screw cap; 90 points
A tighter, more crunchy aroma makes this instantly
different to the Vales model: this has as much of that rustic character as the
other, but its cooler source in the ranges, near Kuitpo, makes it more of an
alpine bracer than an afternoon's ooze down on the humid banks of Tiber. It has
a slightly weedy hint which is probably from the youthful nature of the vines. Pears,
yes, but smaller, higher acid ones, this time with the oxalic acid of rhubarb
in place of the quince. It whips across the palate rather than wallowing, maybe
like a top young Loire Sauvignon blanc (not a Kiwi version). It has a powerful
hunger trigger in its chalky, bone-dry tannin, at which point it's worth
recalling that 'bone-dry' originates in the old prophet Ezekiel's hallucination
of the valley of dry bones, which he watches the Lord re-assemble and refit
with flesh and sinew, so the army could get back to war. Praise the Lord! There'll
be no war here, but if you wanted to wait, a few years' cellar would see some
flesh emerge. In the meantime, regard this tannin as the equivalent of
ground-up bone china. I shall enjoy watching the fruit of this high country
vineyard as the vines grow older: it shows great promise in its infancy. Yum-o
with a yellow curry of chubby European carp and saffron rice!
Alex Sherrah with an after-work beer ... all photos Philip White 
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