Friday, 22 May 2009
One subject almost guaranteed to bring out strong opinions among wine drinkers is the question of the appropriate degree of sweetness in wine, particularly in white wine. I was reminded of this a couple of days back when I ran into Jimbo. Wines sampled and forthcoming purchases are almost invariable topics of conversation when that happens, and Jimbo’s characterisation of a certain big-selling label stuck in my mind. I had the chance to pursue the subject when I encountered the same gentleman on my morning walk today.
The encounter was another example of serendipity since the bottle of Rockford 2008 White Frontignac I’d enjoyed with last night’s butter chicken needed a write up. I was only a hundred metres or so into the walk when I spotted a familiar figure, and once I’d caught up, the subject of sweet wine was something to discuss until our paths diverged further along the route.
I’m not suggesting for a moment that there’s anything wrong with sweet wines per se. Sweetness is a matter of degree and balance, rather than quantity of sugar, and when drinkers disparage sweet wines I suspect there’s a major cringe factor in there as well. Various acquaintances have, for example, declined a glass of my favourite white variety on the grounds that I don’t like Riesling, a reaction I’m inclined to attribute to over-familiarity with casks which, regardless of labelling, may not actually contain much of that particular grape variety.
If you go on and press the issue, offering a glass with a small sample I’ve found the Riesling-resistance usually evaporates when we’re talking a Clare, Eden Valley or Tasmanian bottle, and there’s usually a request for a refill.
Along the course of the walk we were reminiscing about the dim dark past, when a dinner invitation asking you to bring a bottle meant you arrived with something safe, probably a bottle of Ben Ean Moselle, Mateus Rose or one of those raffia-enclosed bottles of Chianti where the wrapping may well have been more expensive than the contents.
Then there’s what the teenyboppers were drinking before they switched to alcopops, the sort of stuff that seemed to comprise whatever batches of white wine they had left over along with a couple of bags of sugar. (Thanks, Jimbo).
Once you move into the quality end of the spectrum, you’re actually going to be getting some fruit in the glass and the residual sugar is there to enhance rather than dominate.
When you’re looking at wine with a substantial sugar content, it’s very much a matter of the circumstances in which you sample them. Given the general rule of dry before sweet you’re usually looking at dessert, which takes you off into sticky territory, which more than likely used to mean something with botrytis, spatlese or auslese on the label.
Labelling regulations will probably see the demise of the letter two terms, which is a pity since they helped give an idea of the degree of sweetness involved.
There’s also an element of sweetness in your fortified as well, and I’m partial to a glass of Muscat or Tokay towards bed time on a chilly evening. By the way, it’s not Tokay any more - in the future you’ll be looking at a Topaque.
If you’re looking for a food match for a wine with a touch of sweetness, you’re likely to be heading for the spicier end if the spectrum. I head into that territory frequently, so I’m always interested in something that’ll to go well with a curry.
The Thai variants, of course, with their citrus elements as part of the balance of salt, sweet, spicy, sour and herbal flavours tend to go well with a Riesling, but looking at the Indian version I’m inclined to head to Gewurtztraminer, Traminer Riesling or a White Frontignac at the aromatic end of the spectrum.
Unsurprisingly, Frontignac and Traminer are closely related, and Frontignac, or muscat a petit grains (muscat with little berries) turns out to be a fairly versatile variety, a red grape that can produce aromatic white wines that can be dry or sweet or somewhere in between.
If you’ve sampled one of the increasingly-numerous Italian-influenced Moscato styles that are hitting the market, you’re looking at something from the same family of varieties. It’s also one of the oldest varieties, dating back to the ancient Greeks and Romans, and reached Germany by the 12th century, probably via Marseilles and the Rhone Valley.
Our visit to South Australia at the end of 2008 saw us sample a number of these styles, and one of the best we encountered was the Rockford 2008 White Frontignac. The necessity of filling out the rest of a dozen two months ago meant that three bottles found their way into the wine rack back then, and the fact that there’s only one left means that Hughesy’s going to need to be calling the winery again in the not-too-distant future.
The most important characteristic when you’re looking at this style is the right degree of sweetness. You’re looking (or at least I am, and I assume anyone who has read this far is too) for something that’s slightly sweet with a clean finish on the palate. Crisp, but not cloying, sweet but not syrupy.
Which is a pretty good summary of what this wine presents in the glass. Clear, pale yellow in the glass, plenty of aromatics on the nose and crisp and clean on the palate. at $15.50 a bottle I’ll more than likely be throwing a couple of bottles into the mix every time I’m on the phone to Rockford.