NON-MELLOW MURRAYLANDS MERLOT

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Putting a popular, cheap, "entry level" Oz Merlot in the magnifying glass
by PHILIP WHITE 


When he followed his rivals into the arid but increasingly-irrigated Riverland, Yalumba's Wyndham Hill Smith knew well the advantage of hanging a word like Oxford around the neck of a bottle of cheap wine. 

I'm sure a few Australians had heard of that ivy-hung university town back when Wyndy (centre) put his cheque book in the FC ute and headed upriver in 1958, but probably more were familiar with the expensive Oxford edition of The King James' Bible. That was a heavy, coveted status symbol throughout our Protestantism. 

Surely few Aussies have ever been aware that Wyndham took the name from a wrecked paddle steamer stacked there on the river bank. 

Oxford. Twenty years back Rajan Bacchau made a Chenin blanc he called Oxford in the hills near Mumbai, India, where the monsoon always put his northern vintage coincident with ours. Last time we spoke, he was considering trying for two vintages a year. 

Calling that Oxford is a bit like calling soap-on-a-rope Avon, but without quite so much Shakespeare. 

But then again, Oxford itself was the name of a place where oxen waded across a stream. 

"We're Keeping It Real," the Oxford Landing website assures me. 

"At Oxford Landing, we like to 'keep it real'. That means maintaining a sense of perspective and recognising what really matters. Remembering where we came from and being proud of our roots. And making wines that are a true reflection of the place they come from." 

The Smiths came from Wareham, Dorset, which sits on the River Piddle. 

After he'd packed his wife and kids on The China and sailed to Adelaide's Port Misery, Sam (Wyndy's great-grandfather) worked as a gardener for the wealthy Angases of Angaston before he planted his first little vine garden there above the Barossa at Mexican Vale. 

When I lived in the Barossa in the later 'eighties, the old Barossadeutschers in the Greenock Creek Tavern still called Angaston "up with the Englitsch". 

There were obviously too many kids called Smith at the Angaston school: a frustrated teacher eventually decided that as Sam's offspring lived up the hill, they'd be known as the "hill" Smiths, which is why there is no hyphen. 

So today this great wine family gardens the flat red centre to bring us wines like Oxford Landing Estates Merlot 2017 (13.5% alcohol; screw cap). While I see this selling for between $8 and $10 in the USA, my usual measure of the real Oz price, Hungry Dan's, no longer stocks it, but I'm sure you'll find it for around a tenner. 

Making it look like something from the south of France worth a lot more money in Australia, the bottle comes with an expensive shoulder embossing in the actual glass, showing a pair of crossed oars.  Security when your ship sinks. 

If you consult the internet for details, you'll find most vendors of the wine faithfully recite the official Yalumba tasting notes: "Crimson in colour with purple hues," they profess. 

"Enticing aromas of milk chocolate, plum and raspberries with subtle cedar and spices. The medium bodied palate starts with vibrant flavours of plums and although tightly structured, the finish is rich and generous with persistent fruit flavours. Soft, velvety tannins are a feature of the supple palate." 

While my limited sensories are obviously no match for those masters', I was surprised by the wine. It's similar to a particularly clean, lean, Languedoc Merlot like the French were caught selling as Red Bicyclette Pinot noir in the USA in 2010. That was never much like Pinot to me, although it seemed to convince E and J Gallo, the US agent. Not to mention millions of Americans who'd dropped Merlot en masse after it was derided in the movie Sideways. Having followed the Miles character's advice and moved to Pinot, they eventually discovered their new favourite was Merlot anyway.

They're since moving back to Merlot called Merlot, which I'm sure many of them still think is French for "mellow". Can't blame anybody - Australians generally know bugger all about real Merlot. If you yearn to learn, go straight to Merité or Blue Poles. These folks are passionate fanatics.  

Unless it's ancient, good Merlot is rarely mellow. The best ones can be quite tannic, although the tannins can be mossy and earthy  more than your regular black tea tin.

Barossa coopers' hands by Dragan

Rather than "milk chocolate", this one reminds me of the smell of the nut sundaes in the Tanunda Club, as served to a table of sawdusty - "subtle cedar and spices" - coopers from up the road.  

Then it changes gears: It's lean and strapping - "tightly-structured" - and seems quite dry and astringent. That'll be the "soft, velvety tannins". Bullshit. This is a sinuous, stringy wine.  Plums? Maybe satsuma approaching ripeness, but still with al dente crunch and acidity. It is NOT mellow.

As far as Merlot goes, it's not much like the benchmark, Petrus, from Pomerol, Bordeaux. You can join the queue for a bottle of the new 2016, which lobs on 1st September next year at $5,250 the bottle.

Otherwise, swap one of these for the price of six or seven cigarettes and consider yourself lucky. Just don't forget to follow the maker's advice: "Roast lamb with rosemary and garlic, or asparagus fettuccine with tomato cream sauce would be a lovely accompaniment."

The Murray near Oxford Landing: the vines grow in loose red sand over very deep fossiliferous seabed limestone, just like Coonawarra, but hot. Same old ocean, see?

this photo by Milton Wordley