La Violetta das sakrileg Riesling 2009

Mount Barker, Great Southern, Western Australia. Riesling. 12%. Screwcap. Approx $A30.

I cling to the notion that all actions have a reason and occasionally a meaning. With that pair of cognitive lenses, I tend to look at new labels and ask questions. Will a wine called das sakrileg be shocking or profane? Will it be Germanic? Would I have bought the wine if it had the translated name - The Da Vinci Code? Two negatives and a maybe. . . It tastes like a Great Southern riesling, though I concede the spice and texture might remind you of a Rheingau Trocken.

Though barrel fermented and unfiltered and unfined, such tricks are no longer unusual in Australian riesling. It smells of lime zest, wax, white flowers, flint and pepper. I've scribbled salty twice in my draft tasting note, and there is a clear sensation of salt in the mouth - presumably it relates to the acids and the texture. There a pleasing weight and flesh to this, though some might say it verges on unctuous. The acids give a sting and for a fleeting moment I can taste rose petals, before it becomes more tropical and ginger spiced. It's appealing in its imperfections and nuance, without being exceptional. 89. Now - 2016.

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Postcard: The Queen in Perth

I've mentioned the Lewis Chessmen before, so it was pleasing to be able to see in person the White Queen. Made from Walrus tusk, from the front she is all worries and her eyes look thyrotoxic, while in profile her face is younger and more serene. This tusk Queen, with her diminished powers (only 1 square per move) is currently on loan from the British National Museum, to coincide with the Queen Elizabeth's visit and the CHOGM.

For this weekend at least, Perth feels like a different place. The city centre is full of colour and movement. The protesters you see, seem to be in good cheer and for country that will one day presumably become a republic, everyone you meet seems to be happily Elizabethan.

Wildcroft Estate Wild One Shiraz 2007

Mornington Peninsula, Victoria, Australia. Shiraz. 13.4%. Diam. Approx $A60.

The back label and in particular this one line caught my attention - Grown on the estate and made by Phillip Jones at Bass Phillip.

As to the package, it's the only bottle I've come across which is sealed with two capsules. First something red and foil and atop this, a second, black and waxen. It's a curious decision and clearly a case of form before function. The wine itself is likely to divide. You can smell and taste the decisions and in particular what I would assume is Brettanomyces. It smells wild and spiced, there is a note of stems and then it's all animal; saddle and hide, small goods and game, but also a less flattering suggestion of sticking plaster to off set the peppercorns, aniseed and licorice. Quite rasping and adhesive in the mouth, though this does subside. It is not an unpleasant wine with its rustic and primal edge, but on this, and most other nights I'd prefer something with more charm, poise and cleanliness.

A Midweek trio

Clonakilla Viognier 2009. Distinctive, bristling and textural. While I thought the 08 was pert and attractive, this has too much musk and almond meal. For me no more than a one or two glass wine.

More success with the 2006 Ata Rangi Pinot noir. I've tried it a few time now, and tonight it seems more luminous and wonderful. A beautiful nose - spiced with a note of dried citrus peel and smoke. Well weighted and brightly paced.

The final wine of the night was the pictured 2010 Head Brunette Syrah (Moppa, Barossa, South Australia. 13.8%. Screwcap). A nose soaked and hedonistic with black berries and cherry pips, it smells slippery and elusive. . . In amongst the various players I can sniff some whole bunches. Firm and juicy in the mouth, but with no sign of heaviness, raisins or anything approaching chocolate. Instead a delightful seam of brightness, rose petals and Turkish delight. Superb. 94. Now - 2020.

Pittnauer Fuchsenfeld 2008

Fuchsenfeld, Burgunland, Austria. Pinot noir. 13.5%. Screwcap.

I spent the afternoon watching the Rugby World Cup final. The French put in a marvelous second half effort and for the last ten minutes I was willing them to win. They certainly seemed to be playing the more adventurous and beautiful game. In the end the Kiwis prevailed and I put my selected bottle of Burgundy away and settled on something Austrian instead.

Beautifully perfumed, the volume of scent seems more pronounced then any recently recalled example. Musk, animal hide and petals; but also something harder to pin down - dried citrus peel, oyster mushroom, cherry confection and skid marks. Quite light, sappy and assertive, I found it a little too adhesive and squeaky. 16/20. Now - 2013.

Staniford Great Southern Reserve Chardonnay 2010

Albany, Great Southern, Western Australia. Chardonnay. 13%. Screwcap. Approx $A30.

Served far too cold to begin. Green apple, flint, lemon curd, grass and something Chablis like. Once warm and awake a trace of ginger spice and a persistent suggestion of gun barrels. Fleshy, gripping and laden with bitter phenolics, it seems a little too angular, oiled and sun burnt. 15/20. Now - 2013.

Za'atar

The late Alan Davidson mentions that Zaatar is the Arabic name for wild thyme, though it commonly denotes a combination of thyme, sumac and often toasted sesame. McGee adds two other herbs to the list - marjoram and oregano.

Pictured above: Starting at 3 o'clock and moving clockwise - Sumac (1/4 cup), marjoram (2 tbs), toasted and then grounded sesame (1 tbs), oregano (2 tbs), salt flakes (1 tbs) and thyme (2 tbs).

Post script: Roasted leg of lamb with za'atar. Squeeze the juice of one lemon onto a large leg of lamb (2kg). Rub in some salt and pepper and cover with a few tablespoons of za'atar. Place this in a large baking tray, and pour in a cup of water. Cook for 20 minutes at 230 degrees C, then turn the leg over to brown the other side and repeat. After the second lot of 20 minutes drop the temperature to 160 degrees, add more water if needed, add some cubed potatoes (toss and coat in the juices) and cover with foil. Cook for a further 2-3 hours. Turning the meat and potatoes at least once, adding more water if needed. Towards the end of the cooking time - remove the potatoes and grill (if crispness is desired), drain the cooking sauces to use as a sauce and rest the meat before carving.

Preserved lemons

For much of the past six months, when I've wanted to cook or eat, I've wanted something from the cuisine of North Africa, Spain or the Middle East. It's a curious change of preference, which I can't quite explain.

There are lots of suggestions about how to preserve lemons. The aim is allow the skins to ferment - ever so slightly, so the rind can develop rounder, more complex flavours. As such I prefer to clean the skins only in cool water (to keep as many of the natural yeast alive), picking lemons that are blemish free. To encourage the process I also give each lemon quarter a squeeze - releasing the juice into the container, and distorting and fracturing (microscopically) the outer surface.

How?

• For a 2L pot, 20 medium - large lemons.
• 250g of rock salt
• Various spices - I used 2 bay leaves, 2 sticks of cinnamon - broken in half, 4-5 cloves and 4-5 star anise.

Take the 10 best lemons - wash and quarter. Place in a large bowl then add the salt. Toss and coat and then take each piece and add to the glass jar you will be using. Giving each quarter a squeeze as you add it, releasing some of the juice. Repeat until you have a few layers, then sprinkle in some of the salt and spices. Compact as you go until all the lemons, salt and spices have been added. Now juice as many of the remaining 10 lemons as required - so there is enough juice to cover all the lemons in the jar. They will float in the brine solution, so fill the jar till almost at the top. Seal and place the jar in a dark spot for 6 weeks.

Two small sips

Emotions, in my experience, aren't covered by single words. I don't believe in "sadness," "joy," or "regret." Maybe the best proof that language is patriarchal is that it oversimplifies feeling. I'd like to have at my disposal complicated hybrid emotions, Germanic traincar construction like. . . "the disappointment of sleeping with one's fantasy."

Grosset Noble Riesling 2011 (Clare Valley). Something new and unexpected. Which seems to be the current paradigm for small and already well regarded local producers in a tight and increasingly educated market. For instance, I see that Phillip Jones of Bass Phillip has started producing a Syrah (Wild One); while last year Grosset released an 'Off Dry' and now something even more decadent and unpredictable. For so long his dry whites have been the most intense, pure and crystalline representations of Clare Valley Riesling. Can someone so well associated with one thing (hard, mineral, electric wines) make a decent attempt at something else (sweet wine from a region not well regarded for this)? On the basis of one small and hurried sip - a partial win.

No comparable question marks, doubt, regret or hesitation with what till now has been my fantasy Australian Chardonnay. The Oakridge 864 Chardonnay 2010 (Yarra Valley) is World class and quite brilliant. Wax and grilled stonefruit, blue vein cheese and something wild and free. Rich, long, intense, textured and mineral. A cliché riddled tasting note for something ethereal and poised. 98. The satisfaction of finding, tasting and discovering you have underestimated your fantasy. Now - 2015.

Paragraph 1 - from Middlesex.

Image: Two opposable thumbs per hand.

Convalescence

My days and nights, of thankfully now receding, ill health have been shaped by Middlesex; the second novel by Jeffrey Eugenides. I've been waking at odd hours reading a few chapters and then drifting off to sleep only to be woken by paroxysms of coughing and the urge to read some more. For a tale of consensual incest and consanguinity told by Cal the intersex narrator, it is a surprisingly light and effortless read. Perhaps the only fault being its over-inclusiveness.

New Zealand vs France

I had been planning a series of comparative tastings this week. A French vs New Zealand theme, in light of the upcoming Rugby World Cup final this weekend. Unfortunately I've been struck down with a respiratory illness of sorts, and the only thing I feel like drinking is soup or water.

I suspect the wine tasting would have been won by France. . . It's hard to see that this will be the result in the Rugby. The style of play from the All Blacks is like some of their better known and regarded wines. There is an unrelenting energy and almost maniacal intensity, pure lines and power; wines that impress and occasionally unnerve. The French are free spirits and less controlled and consistent. Where they should be focused and preparing, they have been out on the town, prematurely celebrating. In the words of their thinly moustached coach; they're a bunch of undisciplined, spoiled brats, disobedient, sometimes selfish, always complaining, always whining, and they've been frustrating me for four years. . . and still they have reached the finals; though inconsistency and occasional brilliance can be tolerated by a wino, I imagine the All Blacks will show no such mercy.

Fattet jaj

It would be possible to prepare this in an hour, but a combination of temporary infirmity and the need to take an afternoon nap stretched the cooking process to half a day. In sickness, one of the greatest pleasures is the feel of fresh bed sheets on frail skin.

The ingredient list is modified from Claudia Roden's The New Book of Middle Eastern Food.

Ingredients:

• 1 L of natural yoghurt
• 4 cloves of garlic - finely diced
• 1 chicken - cut in half
• Juice of 2 lemons
• 2 cardamon pods bruised in mortar
• Salt and pepper
• 1 onion finely diced
• 1 tbs of butter
• 500g of beef mince
• 250g of Basmati rice - washed and drained
• 1 teaspoon of allspice
• 1 teaspoon of cinnamon
• 2-3 rounds of Pitta bread
• 60g of pine nuts

How?

Drain the yoghurt through muslin for at least 60 minutes. Then stir through the chopped garlic.

Place the chicken halves in a pot, cover with water, add the cardamon and lemon juice and bring to the boil. Once bubbling - turn the heat off and leave till ready. In my case about 5 hours. If rushed for time, continue to simmer for 40 minutes or so. When done remove the skin and bones from the meat and shred.

The meat and rice 'filling'. Fry the onion in the butter, when clear, add the meat and stir till brown. Now add the rinsed rice, spices and enough water jut to cover everything. About 1 - 2 cups. When most of the water have been evaporated / absorbed, turn off and leave till ready.

Cut the bread into 8 wedges and fry in olive oil. Approx 1 minute per side. When done toss the pine nuts into the still hot pan. Toss for 30 seconds and then remove.

Construction. Place a few pieces of broken bread on each plate, top with the meat and rice (reheated if needed), some shredded chicken, yoghurt, nuts and ladle over some of the remaining chicken stock.

Served with tabbouleh, namely; 1 large handful of flat leave parsley, 1 small handful of mint and coriander and 3-4 spring onions - finely diced. 120g of burghul - washed and placed in a pot of water, brought to the boil for 1-2 minutes, then drained and dressed with salt, pepper and the juice of one lemon. When the grains are cool mix all the ingredients, dress and stir in 50mls of olive oil and top with 3 medium tomatoes that have been diced.

Earlier today

Living in a city it's easy to forget that you are surrounded by wild life who follow the seasons not for pleasure, but as a matter of instinct and survival. One such creature is this Western Long neck turtle. A normally hidden and reticent inhabitant of the manicured gardens of Hyde Park, before today, I'd never seen one. From what I have gleaned, this is a female out of water looking for a suitable patch to her lay eggs.

A pair of rare birds

Though not so rare as to be from that small limestone hill in Corton Charlemage, and the label too has a C & R in place of better known J-F.

My obsession falls short of needing to taste the most rare and expensive, but clearly my will cannot resist the occasional brightly coloured vinous bauble.

After defeating most of Winter's respiratory pathogens, I've been struck by something vernal and irritating, and though I still think about wine, I'm in no mood to drink; my first taste will have to wait for a clearer nose and sharper brain. . .

New wings

Recently tried: A 2008 Delatite Rielsing - some toasty development on the nose with the lime zest showing some petroleum. Quite fleshy in the mouth, some mid palate sweetness (probably apparent more than real) before a concluding twist of bitterness 88-89. A 2003 Voyager Cabernet Merlot, sealed with screwcap was all quality. Blackcurrant and perhaps a hint of DMS, this is still youthful and seemingly softer than the older 2001. Lovely grainy and pleasingly meaty tannins. 92-93. The 2008 Lamonts Cabernet Sauvignon manages to be equally serious and approachable. Typically scented with blackcurrant, eucalyptus and dark chocolate, there is a point and sharpness to the nose, but redeeming flesh in the mouth. 90.

Image: Teneral (new) adults can be recognised by a glassy sheen of the wings.

Tyrrell's Johnno's Semillon 2011

Hunter Valley, NSW, Australia. Semillon. 11.4%. Screwcap. Approx $A36.

Bottle 1 of 11. Imprecise recollections of something distinct, clear and delicate. Flint, citrus zest and green bean, there is something powdery and blossom like about this. It's wonderfully pert, fresh and long. 93-95. Now - 2020.

Bonny Doon Contra 2009

Central Coast, California, USA. Carignan, Grenache, Mourvedre, Petit Syrah, Zinfandel and Shiraz. 13.5%. Screwcap. Approx $A55.

The back label is rich with self righteous statement: Contra is a wine that reflects the opposite of modern wine making sensibilities - of wines over-worked and amped up, pushed and prodded into Procrustean palate-numbing sameness. . . A wine (hardly) contraindicated for gastronomy, it is above all contrapuntal.

A field blend, where the usually unloved Carignan plays the lead. It shows, the wine is muscular, tannic and inky. It's like licking a stone statue; the wine is hard, structured and unyielding. A mineral thread and chewy, slightly grainy tannins. Dried herbs, tea leaf, earth, raw meat and raisins, it does unwind and soften slightly, but overwhelmingly it is ink and stone. I liked it, though it would be easier to recommend if it were cheaper. 88-90. Now - 2014.

Samudra

With its own trickling stream, gardens, combi van and new age waiters; it's hard not to be surprised and impressed by the goodness and effortless vitality of Samudra. Even cranks, alcoholics and carnivores can find solace and better intestinal health. . . I stopped for lunch and swapped my customary holiday tipple of Chardonnay for a glass of 'afterglow'. A concoction of apple, lemon, mixed berries, ginger and honey - it has a wonderful spark, intensity and tang. For an extra $2.50 they offer to fortify your drink with various special powders. . . The food was excellent and quite apart from anything I've tried. The kid's power pizza (gluten free and raw) is a base of zucchini, chia and seeds and the cheese is made from nuts. At $8, it was easily the trip's best value and most beautifully plated children's meal. The Combi breakdown (bottom left), a bowl of beautifully spiced split peas served with quinoa, was only $11, I would quite happily have paid more. . .

Yes, some elements are borderline cult, but it's also beautiful and unconventional and most probably good for you.

Found objects

Though supposedly abundant in the Indian ocean, this is the first cowrie shell (the largest of the pictured shells on the flat stone) I've found on an Australian beach. Similar and yet so different from the highly polished money shells of my youth; which were presumably bought by my parents from a hawker to keep me occupied. . .

Paul Nelson Fume-blanc 2010. (Mount Barker, Great Southern, Western Australia). Partly barrel fermented this is still a clean, fresh, slightly squeaky wine. Very primary, a hint of flint before citrus, grass and gooseberry; certainly nothing feline. Slightly fleshy in the mouth, the flavours, passionfruit in particular, are sharply defined. 89-91. Now.

Marq Gamay 2010. (Margaret River, made by Mark Warren). My favourite wine of the week; seductive, hedonistic and deliciously drinkable. Earth, cherries, smoke, game and a hint of volatility. Perhaps it's observer bias (being in-situ and eating at Winos), but it tastes of Margaret River, though it's clearly different and the only Margaret River Gamay I've tried. . . Spiced and juicy while still feeling creamy and plush. 92. Now.

November 2011 tasting note for the Marq Gamay.

The obligatory and annual asparagus photo

Miles from home, overlooking a paddock with two black cows. I've a handful of freshly laid eggs, four mouths to feed and nothing else. . . I make a mental shopping list (wine, asparagus, proscuitto, bread), my 10km drive to the nearest store is through farm land and forest. I return to light a fire and just as it darkens, dinner is served. . .

Image: Six nights ago.

McHenry Hohnen Burnside Chardonnay 2010

The McHenry Hohnen Farmshop on Caves Road Margaret River is superb. There are no expensive monuments, just wonderful produce (pork especially, but also oils), tempting food, amazing cakes (the rhubarb, pear and custard cake, not pictured is divine) and distinctive wines. The modest building with its lovely polished concrete floor is small, and the verandah with its seven or eight tables fills shortly after noon.

I confined my self to three Chardonnay. The Rocky Road is the most southerly of the vineyards and the resultant wine is more mineral and lean. The Calgardup has a similar shape but perhaps more blood orange and pith. The Burnside coming from older vines (1970's) is the more intense and forceful of the trio. It has much in common with the Cape Mentelle Chardonnay in emphasis and I gather much of the fruit was once used by Cape Mentelle. As mentioned it has more depth, richness and power. An opening and almost obligatory note flint before nuts and grilled stonefruit. Lush, creamy and slightly bitter in the mouth, there is a salty edge and pleasing weight. Though the most attention seeking of the three, and perhaps the better wine at the moment, I wonder if its flame will extinguish before the other two. . . 93-94. Now - 2015.

Cape Mentelle Chardonnay 2009

Margaret River, Western Australia. Chardonnay. 13%. Screwcap. Approx $A45.

Compared to the Watershed Chardonnay consumed earlier in the day, this is paler, but of similar olfactory profile and shape. Struck match and an initial stink, before resolving and becoming more playful. Slightly broad, textured and fatty in the mouth, it's shape improves, but it seems less interesting, less complete, and less defined than previous vintages. 90-92. Now - 2014.

Image: Appropriately the construction of the image and the consumption of the wine both took place overlooking a paddock, populated by two black, Margaret River cows.

Watershed Awkening A1 Single block Chardonnay 2009

As much as I have favourites, each time I visit Margaret River, I try to stay somewhere new and try to eat and drink somewhere different. The Watershed restaurant has garnered generous praise and I had high expectations. The food is certainly well presented and modern, but on the day, the only dish that sang was the entree tasting plate ($42). It's subtle, complete and satisfying and qualitatively far superior to the similarly plated dessert taster ($32), which was clumsy and partly inedible. The pudding was overcooked and tough as boots, while the decision to place a fried icecream (poorly done at that) on the plate seems wrong.

More success with the wine selection - Worked and augmented, this is delicious. Slightly grassy to begin, green bean and vanilla, grilled peach, nuts and match stick. Slightly sweet attack and there is a fleeting suggestion of confection, tinned corn and pineapple, before it becomes more composed, silken and creamy. 91. Now - 2014.

Shelley Cove

Before the day is over, and before the rhythm of work washes over my thoughts, I want to remember how the day began. I woke while it was dark, at a temporal interface so I might visit a geographic one. I love the beach and what it represents; something between, where two worlds meet; where the waves crash and boom, eroding and wearing smooth the unlucky samples from both worlds as they become sand. The churning ocean and the pace of my solitary steps was meditative and for a while I felt content in my smallness and insignificance. After an hour of rock hopping and meandering I made it to my previously unknown destination. Around the corner, out of eyesight from the relatively tranquil and blue waters of Bunker Bay is Shelley Cove. More exposed to wind and wave, the beach is littered with small shells and pebbles and one of the enveloping walls of stone is scalloped and scarred, giving a sense of danger. On a windy and overcast morning it's far from welcoming, but the spectacle and impact (and smell of rotting seaweed) will hopeful resist the erosive powers of everyday life and time.

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