Bellevue Estate McLaren Vale Shiraz 2013
$19; 14.5% alcohol; screw cap; 94++ points
Corey Vandeleur makes this velvet fist from his family's
vineyard in the main street of McLaren Vale. It's in the limestone right
opposite Nigel Rich's incredible Elbow Room restaurant in the end of town that
was originally called Bellevue. It's now become an annual ritual, Corey calling
me to ask whether it'd be okay for him to drop a bottle off. Okay's hardly the
word. He brings it to my place and we drink it. Simple. Along with the
Torzi-Matthews/Longhop/Old Plains offerings from the Barossa
Ranges makers, Dominic Torzi and Tim Freeland, the Bellevue brand consistently represents the
best bang per buck this taster sees each year. I review it adoringly; people
are disbelieving; then it'll go on to win gongs and bling and accolades all
over the place. Popular scoffing follows the "it can't be that good if
it's this cheap" philosophy. I took some flack for my grovelling rave
about the 2012 model, just for example, but it then went on to win the
Edinburgh Hotel's yearly Shiraz Challenge, where your actual punters vote for
their favourite. Which was in order, really, considering the previous few
vintages had been runners-up. Corey says part of his success is the fault of
his consultant, Dusty the Birdsville baker, who uses Bellevue Shiraz in his
world famous Camel and Shiraz Pies. As there's not too much along the lines of
new French oak going down in Birdsville, Corey reckons Dusty's the best bloke
to tell him when each vintage is ready to come out of wood. Dusty also drives
the Birdsville ambulance, simply because he's usually the bloke with the least
number of beers in him. He drinks a bit slower than the rest, apparently. Which
might begin to explain the success of those patented pies. Anyway, this is less
silky than other recent vintages. It's more soulful and muddy, a bit like the
best Shiraz of Langhorne Creek. It reminds me of Ry Cooder's sinister, snaky
slide soundtracks in Southern Comfort
and Paris, Texas. But this one's not
the usual shiny blackness of swamp vipers - it's more matte in its finish, like
a dry alligator. As I set out to say, it's more velvet than silk. And mark my
word, this wine will become a legendary schlück as the years wind by. It's Corey's
best shot yet.
Corey Vandeleur's hand ... the velvet touch, see?
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