Arriving at Wild Saffron we learnt the highly recommended lasagne wasn’t available until after four and would feed four (which was probably two too many) so we opted for a couple of Thai beef salads from the fridge.
A couple of years ago a local bottle shop had substantial heavily discounted stocks of the Paulett Polish Hill River Riesling on offer, most of which found its way into the Little House of Concrete and renewed Hughesy’s interest in Riesling so I was looking forward to a visit and a taste.
Apart from a five star rating from Mr Halliday the note on the iPod mentioned wonderful views across the Polish Hill River region and, as we pulled into the car park and looked across the countryside words like gob-smacked sprang readily to mind.
The tasting notes I’d scribbled while I was there had mysteriously disappeared somewhere along the track, and while the publicity material that remained on hand might have provided an opportunity to cheat a bit and reconstruct from memory, and internet access could have fleshed that out into something resembling an authentic review, but an eight or nine day gap before I’d be able to use that line of inquiry it’s probably best to state that I was highly impressed (once again) and leave it at that.
In particular, visiting the two establishments leaves me again in awe of the people who are able to taste large numbers of wines in a sitting and still maintain the ability to distinguish the subtle differences between a number of high-class examples of the same style.
I’m sure that, given an array of Rieslings in one place and a fresh palate I’m sure I’d be able to work my way around to identifying one particular wine as the pick of the bunch, but it would take some time and once the task had been accomplished a degree of palate burnout would mean that it’d be difficult to repeat the exercise, even after a couple of hours’ break on, say, a range of Cabernets.