I could be accused of dragging this out a little but here we go with wine number six of an outrageously good lunch with Bodegas Alvear. And again what a wine it is – an absolutely outstanding, very very old palo cortado. Named, if I am not mistaken, for “Grandad” Diego Alvear, founder of the bodega.
And it really was outstanding. As you can see above it was crystal clear and a lovely reddish hazelnut in colour, almost ruby. The nose was also extraordinary, with nuts and hazelnuts and even figgy, Christmas cake like aromas.
And then the palate was everything you had been lead to expect. As full of flavours as the nose and as bright and clean as its aspect. Nuts and cake, and specifically the sweet, burnt raisins of Christmas cake. But above all it had none of the defects that some of the really old wines can bring: the eye watering acid, astringency or wood of excessive concentration. Hard to argue with the classification of this as a palo cortado. It had a beautifully defined structure to it (my notes are rather more prosaic – I wrote it was “chunkier” than the amontillado-) but elegant for all that.
Another exceptional wine, out of the very top drawer. It seems almost sacriligious to have tried so many together (it is hard work etc …)
To my mind this was the clear star of my recent lunch with Bodegas Alvear and one of the finest amontillados I have come across to date.
I agree with the protagonists of Edgar Allan Poe’s great story. For me you cannot beat the amontillado style for flavourful elegance – manzanilla pasadas and older finos can be as elegant and complex but when the amontillado is good it can be exceptional. Experts tell me that back in the day the wines considered top of the pops were the amontillados and I believe them. And from what I have seen there is no doubt how they get their name: the amontillados from Montilla Moriles are as good as any you will find. (The Jerez propaganda about the style being named for the “ruined” wine that arrived by donkey from Montilla can be archived in the (overflowing) blarney file.)
This Amontillado Solera Fundacion is one of the very best. It is taken, as its name maybe gives away, from the foundational solera and must be of a ripe old age, but wears its years with incredible grace. I may have been softened up a bit by the four top wines that preceeded it, but my notes are extremely, er, enthusiastic.
It is very easy on the eye, crystal clear and a rich, hazelnut/amber in tone, and has just an outstanding nose. Concentrated, rich, compact nose with a lot of sides to it, like one of those 20 sided dice mathematicians love, with everything from caramel through nuts and leather to just the slightest hint of the darkest chocolate. (With the glass empty it was all sweet pine sawdust.)
On the palate it is the archetypal best of both worlds – elegant, silky and fine in profile but rich in flavour and expression. A sharp acid start, a controlled explosion in the middle involving a spectrum of flavours from nuts and caramel through cigar box and leather to dark chocolate and even coffee, then a smooth salinefinish with no astringency.
Really fantastic. A touch of magic to this wine.
I was given this yesterday at La Matilde blind (I did say that your man was a gent) and although I never expected quite this I knew where it came from immediately – if I had been given time I would have guessed it was El Tresillo 1874. (I really ought to have known, since I have had this not once but twice before (he said name showing off unobtrusively).)
As you can see a lot of solids in the glass but it was a beautiful wine in every other respect. The colour and sheen, the sweet spicey nose, and the perfect profile of smooth acid, full body and long finish without any jarring astringency. Such a lot of silk on the palate and tasty silk too – notes of ginger, chocolate and spices. The sort of wine that you can enjoy for a long time – it is eternal on the palate and just keeps unwinding flavours on you.
Real class and a privilege indeed.
What an absolutely magnificent wine this is. Has absolutely everything and is the perfect accompaniment to a beefy stew (today I had it with peas in a beefy gravy, which was close enough). Available by the glass and half glass at Angelita and also in Media Ración.
From the comments you read and hear the great wines from Jerez with a bit of personality are often likened to their cousins up in Burgundy, so I thought I would take advantage of having a nice Chassagne Montrachet open to have another look at the Fino la Barajuela.
The Burgundy was glorious, a beautiful bright gold colour, a nice flowery, lemon and limestone nose, then elegance, balance and precision with flavoura of nectar and pollen, pear or apple and citrus acidity. Absolutely top class (I may be over-egging it but it was even better than I expected.)
The Barajuela is the business too but goes about that business in a markedly different manner. The chardonnay is full of fruit and so is the Barajuela – in fact it has more fruit than many of its peers in the sherry triangle, but maybe what strikes you most is the salinity in nose and palate, and the way the salinity and zing takes the place of the acidity. Do they leave room for the full range of flavours that the burgundy has? Perhaps not, but on the other hand the Barajuela’s minerals and muscle give it a different dimension, a uniqueness that lifts it above the comparison.
I originally wrote this note in terms of a comparison but I realize now – thanks to a comment from Alvaro Giron – that that is unhelpful. These are very different kettles of fish and it is the differences that are illuminating. My verdict: don’t buy the Barajuela if what you want is a chardonnay. It is something else.
Happy Father’s Day to me. What a wine this is.
It is a famous wine and one that lives up to its reputation. I first heard about it many moons ago, tried it in March on an overwhelming day in many ways, and have since heard its praises sung from the rooftops. And rightly so.
It may not be what you expect from a fino but it is a very fine wine. In fact, it is the expression of terroir and fruit in Jerez, and of winemaking, that I and many others have been waiting for. I thought it was impressive in March but found it heavy – now it is light on its feet and has the presence and personality of a great wine. I just can’t believe how good it is. It is outrageous.
If anyone tells you palomino is a “neutral vessel” let them taste this (or its Sanlucar cousin, the UBE, when it comes to that). When I first opened it it had that meaty nose of fresh grilled tuna, with a little lemon and coriander. Then as it opened later the nose was all fruit and sweet herbs. On the palate it has those same flavours fruit, sweet herbs, and meatiness, and the profile is horizontal: a long, long flavour that persists. All the while there is spicey saltiness in the background, and the balance of salinity and fruit is perfect – tasty but not clingy, full but not heavy.
Just really delicious. A fantastic wine.
Wine number 3 of the tasting at the Taberna Palo Cortado was this absolute beauty. Another single vintage wine, now 61 years old, and showing sensational integration.
A deeper black brown in colour, like crude oil, this had the most amazing, surprizing, nose. Yes it had raisins and maybe chocolate, but it was for all the world like an overripe Chateauneuf du Pape with jammy fruit and spices, again oranges, but now mouldy orange peel from the back of the bin.
Then on the palate this came across as lighter, with nice acidity and sweeter spices, no astringency and much less mineral than the 1965. It again had a bittersweetness to it but rather than savoury it was the bitterness of marmalade, with acid and bitter citrus – your man from Toro Albala came up with a great descriptor: the bitterness of orangey hands after peeling an orange. After that bitterness there was a different kind of sweetness, concentrated and dense, like black treachle and which just seemed to last forever.
Really out of the top drawer – an epic wine.