I had decided before setting off for New Holland that M is for Mataro, as Alfred Hitchcock so nearly said, because I had been educated to believe that the variety grown and known in France as Mourvedre and in Spain as Monastrell, was treated similarly here as Mataro.
You can say what you like about Australians (no, really), but I had an experience whilst searching for this week's wine in Sydney, that I am unlikely to have had in London.
Early in the week, in fact the day of my arrival, I started my search in a bottle shop (or even more Aussie sounding 'bottle-o') in the same block as the apartment in which I had billeted called City Cellars. I asked the manager, a friendly chap named Jason, if he had any Mataro.
I learned that he had only taken over the shop a couple of months ago, that the owners were connected to McGuigan Estates (there was plenty of evidence to support this claim on the shelves), that he had worked in the USA, that he would welcome me to his Friday afternoon tastings and that he hoped I enjoyed my stay in Ostraya, wherever that is.
I also learned that he did not have any Mataro.
In most bottle shops the owners / staff were friendly enough, but most of them told me I was really looking for Mourvedre. And perhaps, in a way, I was but I wanted Mataro. (You say bananas and I say pyjamas, you might think, but I can be quite stubborn. Ask The One.)
I took this to an impromptu, end-of-day, bring a bottle gathering to share with some colleagues. They all brought either white or sparkling wine, so I shared half the bottle with myself before joining a more formal gathering on the phone back to mission control.
Ninety minutes later, alone and having only had a 'cheese, wine and crisps' supper, I generously shared the other half with some more cheese. Quite a balanced diet, in some respects.
This was a very enjoyable wine. Easy drinking but interesting. 14%abv but not heavy. Oaked and slightly spicy.
Later in the week with a group of workmates I returned to City Cellars to pick up a bottle of anything that we could share (honestly) in one of our apartments. This was necessary because it is party season and every bar and restaurant within comfortable walking distance provided the type of entertainment that required its patrons to be either skilled lip readers or thirty years younger than me. Preferably both.
Now here is the thing. Not only did the manager, Jason, remember me, but he asked if I had found any Mataro. I said 'no' and he said 'because I got some in for you!' Quite impressive. I had not ordered it and not even said that I would buy it if he did get some.
It comes from a vineyard planted in 1890 by two brothers, Herbert & Frederick Kay (the clue is in the name), who made their first vintage in 1895.
They died a year apart in 1947-8 and their son Cuthbert 'Cud' and now their grandson Colin have maintained the family business.
I am grateful to Jason not only for the customer care, but also for picking a good one.
The back label is a masterful example of 'prove me wrong' flavour descriptions, claiming:
Blackberry, liquorice and white pepper on the nose with a briary, roast chestnut and glazed nectarine palate.
Firm gravelly tannin structure finishes this full and generous wine perfectly.
All of which is probably true, but once again I have no idea what the combination of briary, roast chestnut and glazed nectarine should taste like.
It is only three years old and I suspect it will develop further, but it already has a well-balanced and complex character and reasonably long finish.
I am tempted to set Jason the challenge of finding me next week's white N, because I am struggling. I am fairly certain that from next week we will be back to single bottles.
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