Mosquito Hill
Southern Fleurieu Savignon Blanc 2013
$20; 13.3% alcohol;
screw cap; 92 points
A few years back when everybody thought the next Great White
Wonder might well be the stylish Galacian blonde variety Albariño - aka Alvarinho or Cainho branco - there was a
mad flurry of planting. Until somebody discovered that the cuttings being
distributed were in fact Traminer from the forgettable appellation called Jura,
which is near Geneva and equally droll.
Which is not quite on the Atlantic, like Galacia.
Most growers barged on regardless, displaying their
disregard for the market by insisting that this transposition made no
difference at all. They did, however, decide they had a better chance of
selling the wine under the name Savignin, hoping this would take back some of
the huge market share Australia has lost to Kiwi Sauvignon blanc.
This may have fooled some, but the buttery, peachy,
oily-to-greasy Savignin-cum-Traminer is closer in style to the Alsace
Gewurztraminer than anything vaguely approaching the crisp grassiness of
Sauvignon blanc.
Glyn Jamieson's vineyard at Mount Jagged on the Fleurieu
is cooler than most of the sites on which Savignin found itself. Something
about that, and the very keen wine intellect of its owner and dreamer/planner, makes this the best example I have seen in Oz.
Apart from all the rich apricot, over-ripe pear, and even
yellow peach characters typical of the grape - think Viognier - the fruit here
has a fine nostril-tickling acridity that smells like freshly-split bluestone. Almost
in contrast, the wine has a loveable unctuous texture in place of the sweaty gaúcho
feeling many other makers seem happy to grasp.
As this comforting pat-me-down of a drink makes its
progress, those stone fruits take on a slight verdancy, a little like the
Chinese bitter melon, to finish with a dusting of very fine dry tannin.
Which all adds up to a wine that would swim beautifully
with feisty Thai chilli-ginger-lemongrass-coriander cuisine, or something a
little more subdued, like chicken stewed in scrumpy with plenty of fresh
tarragon, heaps of squashed garlic cloves and little white onions.
Mosquito Hill
Southern Fleurieu Les Blancs 2011
$20; 12.5% alcohol;
screw cap; 85 points
This one's fifty-fifty Savignin and Pinot blanc. It has
even more of that prickly quarried rock edge in its piquant bouquet, along with
a tantalising tickle of burlap, like a superphosphate sack. Which takes me
closer to Burgundy than Switzerland or Spain.
The Pinot blanc seems to counteract the rich texture of
the Savignin, making a more slender, sinuous drink, perhaps after the style of
a particularly good Aligoté, which is probably the most widely-planted white
grape in Burgundy.
Point it at poached pork or veal dishes. It's be dandy
with a tender saltimbocca with capers.
Mosquito Hill Southern Fleurieu Les Blancs
2012
$20; 13.4% alcohol;
screw cap; 93 points
The addition of 20% Chardonnay at the expense of some
Savignin, and a little more ripeness overall, sees this model leading the
Mozzie Hill trinity: this one nails it.
The wine has some lemony edge with all that rockdust and
sack, giving the bouquet more tempting elegance than the other two wines. The
flavours have a neat junketty turn a little after the nature of fermenting bean
curd and here the Chinese melon character is under control, neatly entwining
with those white furry-skinned stone fruit flavours.
The acid is firm and securing; the tannins very fine but
persistent, a little after the style of a particularly fine and elegant
Condrieu Viognier. Which is a rarity in itself.
So what do we have here? We have a most un-Australian
flavour that I'd expect geographically to find somewhere between Galacia and
Jura but, er, probably closer to the latter which must put me somewhere very
near Burgundy and its mellow bean stews.
The seasoned traveller will know that much-Michelined
megabuck eateries aside, the best place to dine well in Burgundy is a backroad
truckstop. I can imagine being surprised by, but quickly accepting a surpise
find like this wine in such a place. Like somewhere on the flats approaching Mâcon.
You know you're gonna drive off much more slowly than the
mad lost way you approached.
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