Bremerton Mollie & Merle Langhorne Creek Verdelho
2015 ($17; 13% alcohol; screw cap) is like most good Langhorne Creek
Verdelho: overlooked by many who should know better. Which is silly. It has a
very pleasing honeydew melon/starfruit aroma which manages at once to comfort
and refresh, without too much of one over the other. Its texture backs this
dainty see-saw of sensation, perhaps changing the gears a little closer to
refreshment: the Sauvignon blanc bits of that tropical starfruit sector take
over, giving a smooth white texturally, but with a pleasing grassy/verbena edge
that would chew into your salt'n'pepper squid, or really slay you if you had it
with a serve of Coorong mullett, or the salt'n'pepper egg plant at Wah Hing.
Verdelho like this should be regarded as the thinking person's Sauvignon blanc:
it offers a slice more richness, flesh and pleasure than your standard
Marlborough, but still has enough cutty acid to peel the lipstick off your
teeth. Notice: cutty, not catty, see? No battery acid. And a bargain!
Just as Tom Hagger gets
more soul and cheeky flesh than most do from the austere Grenache of Clare, so
he manages to let the smoochiest bit of this Riesling ooze through: it has the
sort of toast-and-marmalade we used to find really alluring in the Clare Rieslings
of the Olden Days, before the chill stainless steel stormtroopers took over.
His Oak Table Wine Clare Valley Riesling
2015 ($22; 12.6% alcohol; screw cap)
has all the lemony acid we expect of good Riesling, but comes wrapped in some
of the mellow autumnal tones of orange blossom honey, or lime and ginger
marmalade on sourdough toast with too much proper butter, as one prefers it.
There's that lovely reliable layer of natural acid in the basement, and then
the usual layers of citrus pith and all the lime juice Clare can lay on, and
then this lovely adornment of brekky toast on the top. Not too much, just a
hint. If you're the type that likes a glass of something a bit golden with your
Sunday brekky, this wine will ease you perfectly from kippered herrings on
toast with lemon and pepper through to Rose's marmalade on toast to a nice cup
of white tea, one sugar please, and a butter shortbread. Watch this quiet, inexpensive
after-hours brand.
Tim Adams Clare Valley Reserve Riesling 2010 ($29; 11%
alcohol; screw cap), just for comparison, is an aged version of the very
steely, hyper-fresh modern school of the variety. So while it started with none
of the toasted breakfast of the Oak Table, it's beginning to grow some, but in
a very different manner: this is all the butter and marmalade, but there's no
toast. It's pristine, still, limy and rindy, and it's grown cool, almost
coincidental flesh on its sinews and that citrus looks like it's just beginning
to caramelise in the pan, but your actual toast is not so strong. Flavour-wise,
it's an aged rizza for the gluten-intolerant (joke only) or one who prefers their
fair entertainment, regardless of its age, to arrive freshly-scrubbed in very
fast machinery made from fine German steel.
I should note that I've tasted these wines over four
days. Every one of them was a more comforting proposal at least a day after I'd
first snapped their seals. So drink some with your dinner on Saturday, and keep
a glass or two in the fridge for breakfast.
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