Does alcohol consitute “the necessities of life”? How important in these troubling times is it to have access to alcohol? Yesterday the morning breakfast show, The AM Show, polled New Zealanders as to how important this is in life:
The final results are not surprising to me – and yet when all the panic buying started last week (we still have not managed to get any flour) I turned to one colleague and said “Well I hope the breweries are pumping out more product.”
Aotearoa has, as Robert Joseph said to me yesterday, a rather chequered past with alcohol. We nearly voted in Prohibition in 1919. A hundred years later, our appalling domestic violence cases are probably fueled in part by alcohol, as is our growing road toll (though NZ is not a safe place to drive for a number of reasons that I won’t go into here.)
But alcohol is so ingrained in our social norms.
This came to the surface after the March 15 terror last year. I have lots of friends who are Muslim and I did my best to contact as many as I could, but it is not as though I could go over to theirs, open a nice bottle of wine and share some personal time that way. And yet one Central Otago producer took the opportunity to post a promotion on their Facebook pages saying that profits from cellar door sales that weekend would be donated to the victims’ funds. I know that they meant well, but how tone deaf can the wine industry be to the rest of the world???
Anyway, there has been a surge in alcohol sales in the past few days. I even panicked yesterday when I realised that I had some back vintages of Kumeu River in my rented cellar, which meant a mad dash across town to retrieve some. But I thought I would summarise what the rules are here, now that we are in Day 1 of lockdown:
wine and beer will still be available in supermarkets for the time being
all liquor stores have been told to close
however we have some parts of NZ which have district licensing trusts, so they will remain open and, curiously, they sell spirits as well, whereas our grocery stores cannot (and nor can supermarkets sell Port or Sherry)
wineries can remain in business, but the cellar door must be closed – not sure what that means for individual businesses, some will be hurting
because wine is now one of our key exports, vintage is continuing, however with rules around social distancing and even greater sterile requirements (if you are hand harvesting… well, must be stressful) – but the rules on this have been quickly cobbled together, and we have heard that some places are having problems – everyone is doing the best that they can
2020 looks like being an amazing vintage here in Middle Earth
I have received so many questions about this film that it may pay to get a few out of the way asap:
Was this the best movie
(slash) documentary you saw at this year’s Film Festival?
NZIFF this year was perhaps lacking some of the big names of last year, so overall the quality of the films was not as good as it as been. But I saw a couple of amazing features (I could not get to Vivarium, nor the feature about the Stalinist purges, which sounds dire but I suspect may have been THE best film this year…) Notable among these was The Art of Self Defence, which is not for the faint hearted, but if you get black humour a small masterpiece. Best doco was Making Waves: The Art of Cinematic Sound, which was a straight up (and fascinating) look at an overlooked part of production, though Mads Brugger’s wacky conspiracy theory doco Cold Case Hammarskjöld was also lots of fun. A Seat at the Table was certainly in my top four or five (I went to twelve Festival movies, most of them documentaries), pretty good, especially given the fact that the producers had to self fund the project. Hopefully it gets a general release!
The story about the
Abel clone is amazing, isn’t it??
Yes, but perhaps not as amazing as it was painted on the
screen. So, a definite “Yeah nah.” Abel remains one of my favourite Pinot Noir
clones in Enzed, and great to see it has a cameo here. Should this have been a
movie on its own? Probably, because the message about Kumeu River Chardonnay
standing up to the great Chardonnays of Burgundy got a little lost in
Is New Zealand
Chardonnay that good?
Is this “the
definitive New Zealand wine story benchmarked against some of the greatest
producers in the world”?
Well the minds behind would themselves have to be honest and
admit that this was an ambitious undertaking and while I think the storytelling
was fine, the benchmarking itself got cut short. We did not get the whole story
– but at least the ending was sound!
Sounds like you are
less than impressed, should I go see the film?
Most definitely, hopefully this will help get another one off the ground, but if you want your modern history of the New Zealand wine industry please read Michael Cooper or Warren Moran.
The story begins in 2015, when Stephen Browett, principal at
UK wine importer Farr Vintners organises a blind tasting, in London, pitting
Kumeu River Chardonnays against some of the finest Chardonnays from Burgundy.
The tasting panel includes two MWs, Jancis Robinson and Derek Smedley, plus
other wine writers, notable among them Neil Martin from The Wine Advocate.
Short story first, Kumeu River Chardonnays “won” this taste
This is where our movie begins, with the question: Does New
Zealand wine deserve a seat at the table?
First problem is, the filmmakers were not around when this
all happened, so the film picks up the trail at a vertical tasting of Kumeu
River Chardonnays at Farr Vintners, with Kumeu River marketing director Paul
Brajkovich, Stephen Browett and thank, thank, thank Bacchus, Jancis Robinson
MW, who really saves the day (I believe.)
One of the things that they do mention here is that Kumeu River seals all its wine under screwcap, which provides a significant advantage, especially with a variety such as Chardonnay. I have spent so much money buying white Burgundy, only to find that it is oxidised and oxidation can vary from totally dead to almost undetectable. But screwcaps remain a huge advantage for certain styles of New Zealand especially whites. The movie later on discusses this, but this is not mentioned when this tasting is described.
I love white Burgundy, I drink a lot of it (in fact, as I write this I am enjoying a glass of 2006 Ramonet Chassagne-Montrachet Premier Cru “Les Chaumees” and it is lovely wine, so nice, but it could be that much grander, more precise, just fresher if it had boasted a screwcap.)
Now for my overseas friends, we need to take a diversion here and discuss “cultural cringe”. Is that a thing in the Northern Hemisphere? Does the Empire of wine ever suffer self doubt?
Well, Kiwis are very insecure birds, with good reason. I
know a spot on Motutapu where a good number have perished because although they
are very good at seeing at night, they really do not understand coastal
geomorphology and what cliffs are, and so they have literally gone off the
New Zealanders really are obsessed with how the outside world sees us. I guess that makes us the Anti-America? I am not kidding. For those of you who have never been here, you will be asked within a short time of arriving here, “So, how are you finding us?” This happened to friends of mine who were still in the Arrivals Hall at Auckland International Carpark and Airport.
This is the premise for A Seat at the Table – how do we compare to the rest of the world, or, more specifically, French wine.
The movie then jumps to Sancerre, in the Loire Valley and discusses why French wine is considered the pinnacle of the wine world. It visits Henri Bourgeois, which also has an Estate in Marlborough. And we get an explanation of why Bourgeois invested in New Zealand. Later a caption talks about French investment of around a billion dollars in Marlborough (or New Zealand?) but no mention that the bulk of this hails from conglomerate drinks giant Pernod Ricard, who are happy to churn out mass market wines at sharp prices, but not necessarily trying to “beat” French wine. An interesting oversight…
This is the strongest part of the movie, Bob Campbell MW
gives some very clear analysis around the success of New Zealand, and
Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc. But then, there is no taste comparison of
Marlborough Sauv and Sancerre. And, well, supposedly we make the best Sauvignon
in the world, so why do these fools in Sancerre bother with vines, when they
could be building luxury condos for bored English gentry on that land…
This is where the film starts to come apart at the seams.
There are too many stories. Good stories, yes! But the cast of characters is
vast and it is difficult keeping up with play.
The filmmakers tell us that they take some NZ wines of the
same ilk (same varieties, or similar wine style) back to France to show French
winemakers, in an attempt to show that our wines are deserving of a seat at the
This is a movie with a lot of talking heads. I have seen plenty of wine movies. Vineyards make stunning photos. For me, the best way to understand a high quality, or single estate wine is to go to where the grapes are grown. You do not really get a sense of what the wine means until you can stand in those vines. But a lot of wine movies have endless drone shots and slow mo this and filter that, and you do not really get a sense of the site.
The local vineyard in this movie which gets special attention is Pyramid Valley. Unfortunately for the producers, Country Calendar did a whole episode on Pyramid Valley a year or two ago and you posdibly get a better sense of the whole site from that half hour tv show (perhaps they ought to have filmed next door at Bell Hill, which is also mind blowing as far as site and viticulture.)
The “tastings” with the French winemakers are by and large fairly standard, standing in front, or behind barrels
So, thankfully, the drone shots are kept to a minimum. There are a couple in France, but brief. Instead, this is a movie with a lot of talking.
But wait, where this movie excels and what we have to admire
as pure genius, is in the interviews with the Kiwi winemakers. These are all
shot, framed, staged slightly differently. Each of them is set in a setting
totally appropriate to that person. The settings reveal a lot about each
vigneron / vineyard. You can even see the personalities, large as life as the
massive screen at the Civic Theatre. Brilliant.
Problem is, there are too many Kiwi wineries featured and
there are too many stories that detract from the main theme.
So, we have the story of the Abel clone. In the movie, the
caption reads “Able” which is a terribly unfortunate error that I hope is
I never met Malcolm Abel, who tragically died early, but I did become friends with a family member (and sometime vineyard volunteer) at Uni. The local bottle shop near our student hostel sold Abel Pinot Noir and Abel Pinotage. I preferred the Pinotage, sorry, and meanwhile my new found friend taught me about Jimi Hendrix and The Who Live at Leeds (his favourite album, still one of mine…) and surf music, and well, he didn’t know much about wine, but he did know Malcolm’s Waitakere Road vineyard… Who knew it would become so important?
The story about the “gumboot clone” is for the large part true. Malcolm was a customs office at Mangere Airport (in the days when landing fees were more profitable than carparks and shops.) Malcolm did confiscate Pinot Noir cuttings. He did basically skirt the quarantine rules and back then most of the Pinot Noir clones had been sourced via the government run viticultural research station in Te Kauwhata and many were of Swiss origin. There were other clones that had entered via California.
And then there was Bill Irwin, who sounds like the Johnny
Appleseed of NZ viticulture but seems to have largely been ignored, except by
us geeks who revere the guy as one of the giants of the modern NZ wine
I will return to Irwin at a later time, and in another blog
post, but back to the Clone to Rule Them All.
We do not know whether the cuttings Abel confiscated were
from the famous walled Romanee-Conti vineyard, or the equally famous walled
vineyard (or “clos”) La Tache. In fact, there is very little evidence that supports
this view. The cuttings WERE from Burgundy, for sure. But whereabouts is still
But eventually Abel cuttings ended up with Clive Paton and
his three partners in Martinborough, as one of the clones planted in the first
block of Ata Rangi vines in the early 80s.
And we do know that Abel is very distinctive, has a
definitive tone or note. But as to being superior to Clone 10/5 or Clone 5 (aka
“Pommard”) which were also good quality clones used in Martinborough in the
1980s when Ata Rangi was established, well my jury still wants more evidence
But what we did was we eliminated some of the “lesser” Pinot
Noir clones like Mariafeld and, um, Mariafeld… Well people used to diss 10/5,
and praise Pommard, but over the last umpteen years, I have changed my mind on
that and now I do not trust 5 at all. A tricky plant.
This is important to the film’s story, because there are a couple of memorable shots of Clive Paton
hugging his old-ish Abel vines. Good for him.
Abel is now planted around New Zealand and it certainly was a major influence on the style of Pinot produced at Ata Rangi. But its significance is perhaps overrated – because it is a good shaggy dog story (and, yes, I am not a fan of Disney movies.)
But the Abel story, it loses air, sorry.
So, now (if you are still with me) you may think that I have
digressed from the message, and where am I am going with this, and what is my point,
and you would be right, this is what happens in the film, also. Yes,
occasionally they cut away to French winemakers standing around a barrel or a
table with some random Kiwi wines displayed in front of them (one of them being
NZ’s most prestigious blend of Bordeaux varieties, Coleraine, wow, is that a
slap in the face to Te Mata, or what?)
But the problem is, there are far too many bit players in
this film. Steve Smith MW makes one amusing analogy, but he is outplayed, dare
I say it trumped, by my dear friend Claudia Elze, who was one of the founders
of Pyramid Valley, with her former partner Mike Weersing.
Mike provides the very, very best quote in the movie. “People
say that Chardonnay is a blank canvas – but I do not agree with that. No, I see
Chardonnay as a window, which shows where it comes from, the terroir. Me? All I
am doing is cleaning the glass.”
With that brilliant explanation of something that I have
always known, but never quite been able to express, combined with Jancis near
the end of the film stating: “I have always maintained that New Zealand
Chardonnays are amongst the best in the world”, well, hell, this could have
been an amazing sixty minute film about New Zealand Chardonnay. But no.
In fact the whole film could do with some savage pruning,
more precision, less waffle, please.
So we meander around for a while and eventually end back at
the beginning, and Michael Brajkovich MW, who is the genius behind Kumeu River’s
winemaking (ably assisted by the amazing Nigel Tebbitt who has been working for
the Brajkovich family most of his life) who is asked: have we earned a seat a
Humbly, as always, and diplomatically, Michael admits, “No.”
I love Kumeu River wines – to the extent that my friends are getting sick and
tired of hearing from me. But, like their custodian (or guardian) Michael, I
too defer to white Burgundy as the definitive Chardonnay, and I love how far we
have come, and I am excited by the journey to come.
Some quick takeouts:
Alan Brady’s story about the early struggle in Central Otago,
at Gibbston Valley, was very touching, but would have been nice to have had one
long section devoted to this, and the even earlier Pioneers (Ann Pinckney, the
Mills family at Rippon, and the amazing Verdun Burgess)
Stars of this movie were Michael Brajkovich MW and Mike Weersing (ex Pyramid Valley), Claudia Elze (ex Pyramid Valley), Sherwyn and Marcel from Bell Hill (why, oh why, did you not show us any outside shots of this vineyard?!?), Paul Pujol (Prophet’s Rock) the humility of all of these people was very moving, as was John Hancock’s (another Chardonnay maestro) ability to be provocative and challenging – more Hancock in the sequel, please
Why do so many local winemakers use sexist language? In particular
the guy that supposedly has a background in marketing and advertising? – there were
more female vignerons from France in this film than New Zealanders, that is what
it is – but the blokes should still think about changing their mindset
The OTT “Turangawaewae” references, sorry blokes (again it was just guys) but that is BS, yes, calling up our kaupapa and our sense of place is cool – but so many people are appropriating this Maori word to connote “terroir”, yet how many of you are genuinely of Maori heritage??? looks like tokenism? sounds like tokenism? Well that don’t impress me much… May have been more appropriate to consult the Maori winemaker’s collective? Did nobody contact Steve Bird?
On that note, it seems a bit naff that our industry’s preeminent historian, as well as one of our leading wine writers, Michael Cooper, was not in the film
Not sure if this was deliberate, but… Australian wine writer
Mike Bennie was made to look like a yobbo…
Terry Dunleavy’s rant about methoxypyrazines being sucked up
out of our gravel soils and how fantastic this was for our Sauvignons Blanc
well… this was something straight out of the chemtrails, anti-vax, “windfarms
cause cancer” playbook
okay, I get it now, THAT clip may have been deliberate!
One of my sadly dear departed friends once went to 47 films at the Auckland Film Festival. I do not know, but the following year he smashed the 50 or 60 movie barrier. I managed 24 myself, but ten of those I had not had to pay for. As a volunteer for the Film Society, you got to staff the information desk at movies of your choosing and once the opening credits started rolling you were allowed to sneak in and sit at the back.
I once spent an entire Sunday inside darkened rooms – starting with a crazy documentary about making a film at 11 am and ending up stepping out on Queen Street after midnight dazed and confused, having just sat through one of Jacques Rivette’s last spellbinding features.
That was back when there were 70 or 80 films in a festival.
And at most a film might screen twice during the two week Festival. There were
inevitably clashes to navigate, apart from the Civic or St James (the Festival
used to alternate between them each year) there were “overflow” screens at the
Regent and the Academy. Some films, mostly the documentaries, only screened
once, so you were out of luck if one of your feature film clashes occurred on a
Saturday or Sunday, when the docos were shown and which you knew were never
We remember the stunning success of 1981’s Diva, which
screened in the international film festival first, then came back and screened
in Auckland for over six months.
So even then we used to play Film Festival Lotto. And
predicting what would come back was a relatively straightforward game.
These days that is almost impossible.
Last year I just gave up second guessing entirely and went
and watched a couple of classics, re-screenings of former glories, and a couple
of docos. Thankfully we now have websites, so the festival organisers can keep
us up to date with what is going to sell out and what is not. But we know that
even sold out FF movies do not necessarily come back.
This year it is really tough – all the films that look
vaguely interesting are screening at odd times, or odd places and times
(Westgate at 6.30 pm on a Friday night?)
I have tried to navigate a path through this year’s schedule
– but I cannot get a handle on it. Also there are no obvious “Thou must see”
movies. Apart from Agnes Varda, no highlighting of great directors. No edgy new
wave stylists. And few risks taken.
Why does the festival catalogue feature so many actors
wielding hand guns? Why does every second movie seem to feature Juliette
Perhaps the most anticipated session for me, the one I am
looking forward to the most, and which I suspect is going to “wow” me, will be a
re=screening of Koyaanisqatsi in the same film festival that I originally saw
it at back in 1983. Has film making not advanced anywhere? Where are the risk
takers? Kind Hearts and Coronets? Are you kidding me?
So – no Film Festival FOMO for me – what will be will be.
And if something I really wanted to see but was not able to because it was a
middle of the day sleeper does
This may be one of the sleepiest programmes for some time.
Perhaps the highlights will be the docos (as usual.) Midsommar was added at the
very last minute – and I am very confident it will come back – but many of the
other feature films here come with no hype. Has the NZIFF lost its soul? I do
not know, but we need to get back to excitement.
Kim Knight’s review in Canvas, 9 Feb 2019, contained several errors, so I thought it would be nice to set the record straight.
We have been to the Tavern twice now, once for casual drinks and a snack and once for brunch. It is fairly standard pub fare, but the food is mostly pretty good and the hit job Knight is trying to pull on the kitchen is not deserved.
Where the problems lie is in the front of house experience. Like a lot of outlets in this Morningside precinct, the tavern is relying on foreign, mostly white people on the travels who apparently lack hospitality experience, or who were sick on the day they did the customer care training. Things take a while to get to the tables – like cloths and trays for cleaning up after previous guests, or water, which is an essential out in the front garden, as it is a north facing death trap and this has been one heck of a summer.
The wine list is ok – pretty good, in fact, though I am not sure of the wisdom of offering pours in small, standard, or super sized (does Homer Simpson like fine wine?) Though the wine is priced to the max – you will get better value wine by the glass at Soul Bar (with actual service, too.)*
And the changing beers on tap is a neat idea too. Basically, major brands are represented, Lion and DB (not sure how they managed both, but good for them) with guest taps, including Goose IPA when we first visited. Goose IPA sponsor my favourite podcast, Sound Opinions, and comes all the way from Chicago, so of course we had to have that, even though it was pricey. Problem though, this keg had seen better days and I cannot remember a more oxidised tap beer in my short craft beer life.
The fries come in either regular (pricey) and super sized, except they seem like they have been sitting around for a while, they definitely come out of a packet, probably the same kind that you get from Countdown and serve mainly as a sponge for the alcohol, rather than an appetising food.
But the fries are the weak link here – the rest of the food is pretty good, sorry Kim.
Her complaint that the burgers are too large is nonsense. These burgers are the same size as those served at Galbraiths, the Dominion, Doolan’s, in other words, all their similar compatriots. Yes, a brioche bun, but so what. I do not normally like cheese on my burger, nor is bacon really necessary, but both worked really well, and I was hungry. This was an excellent way to brunch, well done.
As for the eggplant parma, it is NOT over cheesed, far from it. Knight has got this dish all wrong too. The onion in the accompanying Greek salad is NOT raw, it has been blanched. Yes, there is lots of onion, but this is pretty moreish stuff. Sure could have used feta, but this is a really good main.
Do not believe everything you read in the papers, I guess.
Castellani Chianti DOCG 2016 ($16.95) Bright fruit, wild berry and savoury tomato, with an undercurrent of licorice. Medium bodied, supple tannins with Sangiovese’s characteristic freshness on the finish, this is a concentrated, vinous wine at an excellent price.
I tasted this alongside a 2016 Chianti from a much more famous producer and established brand in this country, which retails for $24.95 (Rocca delle Macie) and in no way was it overshadowed. The wines were different in style – but both enjoyable in their own right.
I have been meaning to post this for a while now, but the issue is becoming more and more prominent that I need to say something now, before any more wines get hurt.
Some years ago I was fortunate to taste some trials which Michael Brajkovich MW (with some industry colleagues) had conducted comparing Diam corks with other closures. In that instance, me and a couple of my buddies were able to identify which sample had been closed by Diam, against screwcap and natural cork.
The problem with Diam then was flavour scalping. There was a definite loss of something – it was very difficult to say exactly what, but the Diam bottled wine seemed less bright and less aromatically interesting than the wine sealed with other closures.
I had completely forgotten about this until a couple of years ago when I purchased some white Burgundy from one of my favourite producers. I got the case home, whipped the top off and poured some wine to my dinner guests. Immediately I noted that something was wrong. This was a 2012 and obviously not nearly an alike vintage with the 2010 that I had been drinking up to that point, but it was vastly different from how I remember the wines from this producer.
Then I took a look at the cork that I had pulled out of that bottle. It was a Diam. This was the same cru, same wine, no change in production methods, just a different vintage, and a different means of sealing the bottle.
I had not thought that a closure would make such a big difference, but there it was. I was especially surprised that with a wine style like white Burgundy this would even be a critical factor, but thinking about it, one of the things I love about white Burgundy is the aromatic profile. Using Diam can be a massive compromise to that.
We are increasingly seeing Diam across a number of different regions and styles. J J Confuron is now using it for Premier Cru wines (I cannot afford the Grands Crus from this domaine so cannot tell you what kind of cork is there.) Diam may well be an ok alternative to lower value or entry level products, but for fine wine there has to be a big question over its long term viability. Michael Brajkovich MW tells me that there are higher grades of Diam now that may have better bonding agents and therefore less potential for scalping, but the highest grade that I have seen here so far is Diam 10. But I recently opened a case of a very flash Piedmontese wine from a famous producer and that had a Diam 6 in it. And the wine was not how I remembered it from last year’s vintage (which had a natural cork.)
My preference is either a screwcap or a good (i.e. uninfected) natural cork. From now on at this blog I will be noting whenever a wine is sealed under natural cork, Diam, or any other kind of cork. If I do not mention the closure then please assume that it is under screwcap.
And I would be interested to hear of anyone else’s experiences with Diam.
Have been offline for a couple of weeks, but been working on some tricky material, so humble apologies.
Meantime, I am currently in the South of Spain and just enjoyed two cracking wines that I must share with you. After a succession of disappointing Ruedas, a couple of solid, but not mind blowing Cavas, this is the good stuff, finally. Have been in Spain almost a week and taken that long to hit the jackpot.
One a Montilla, the other a classic Sherry, Manzanilla from one of the best of the big houses.
Both of these wines are under screwcap and, given the beautiful day we have just had, deserve to be served well chilled.
Manzanilla Solear Barbadillo (Non Vintage) 15%
Pale gold, yeasty, salty nose, a punchy, lemony fruit tone. In the mouth, savoury, briny, earthy characters, but all balanced by firm acidity and that generous alcohol finish. Classic Manzanilla, under screwcap this sings, punchy, but crisp and fine. Benchmark Manzanilla in fabulous condition.
Toro Albala Rama Sin Filtrar Montilla (Non Vintage) 15%
Very pale, light coloured with ever so slight green tinge, the nose here is very expressive, new season’s green apples, citrus blossom, fruity, yet fresh. Light and crisp to taste, gently breads, but also delicate and fine, with classic Fino “bite” on the finish. I was surprised to learn – after having enjoyed two copitas of the stuff – that this is 100% Pedro Ximenez, but then I guess Palomino has never been widely planted in Montilla and I do not know what the other varieties are like there as far as making these styles.
At dinner I enjoyed a Verdejo from Montilla, better than any Rueda I have had thus far on the trip, exactly what the variety should express, creamy mid palate, yet crunchy acidity, perfect food wine.
That’s what I love about wine – always learning new stuff.
POSTSCRIPT – have just been for a walk around Cordoba (which is where we are right now.) Found a wine shop selling the Toro Albala En Rama wine – for 8,90 Euros. Amazing value. And yet, I purchased a bottle of Fino Los Naranjos from Bodegas El Monte for 9,00 Euros. The wine shop owner was really keen for me to buy this – and then wrapped it up for shipping (I told him that I wanted to drink it…) I do not like it as much, more smoky and savoury, perhaps showing a lot more yeast character and thus more true to type? Perhaps I just need to chill it down more? The other talking point is that when I laid this bottle down at dinner in a restaurant the stopper began leaking, now my hands all smell of Fino (another great reason for screwcaps.) En Rama Sherry (and En Rama Montilla and/or Moriles as well it seems) has become all the rage around the world, and yet it is nigh impossible to buy in NZ, because the importers will not risk it. This is crazy. With all the manic attention on natural wines, on specialist or nice styles of wine, it seems ludicrous that you cannot buy these products retail in our country. We can buy Toro Albala Montilla in Aotearoa, we can get Alvear Montilla as well, but we cannot buy En Rama style Fino???
Vino Los Naranjos Vino en Rama San Filtrar Autentico Moriles Alto (Non Vintage) 15%
Much more colour than the Toro Albala and more aromatic breadth as well, savoury, smoky, almost oily in character, much more developed yeast autolysis, starting to get into the nutty area, green walnut, marizpan. And yet, this is full flavoured, funky wine with great acidity, really dry finish. Lovely, but pretty full on.