Torrette Syndrome - The Urge To Revisit A Wine
Modesty in wine, manifesting itself as decorous restraint, should always be considered a virtue. Wine writers still speak and write of the quality of elegance, a term which is now somewhat frowned upon because it apparently lacks precision and is even somewhat anthropomorphic, nevertheless it still represents the combined notions of balance and harmony. Our archetypal modest wine is never obvious or vulgar and is certainly quite delicious, another adjective that initially seems to be meaningless, but actually encapsulates the sensuous immediacy of pure drinkability and gratifying moreishness.
A few weeks ago I came across the following perceptive review of one of our wines, namely the Torrette Superiore, Clos de Chateau Feuillet from Cantina di Barro on Jamie Goode’s excellent Wine Blog on the Wine Anorak web site (http://www.wineanorak.com). It captures perfectly the kinaesthetic pleasure derived from the wine in question, whilst simultaneously implying that there is more to be said.
I like the way that Jamie’s descriptors pinpoint the tension within the wine (hint, sappy, elegant, subtle, pure, natural, understated - waiting to show itself); he implies that there is more to come and that this is part of the inherent charm of the wine. Different components within the wine - the grape or grape varieties, the expression of terroir, reveal themselves in a singular way. Tasting the first time allows you discern certain (primary) notes; you register the inchoate vitality and sense other fugitive elements. Those different elements do not necessarily resolve themselves on initial acquaintance.
On the second day the wine may indeed evolve - the fractional elements are distilled into a unified whole, the wine may seem richer, condensed, grounded, the mineral component more pronounced. Yet it still withholds enough to keep you searching and speculating and teasing you to sluice the lip-smacking juice over every eager taste bud. Returning to the Torrette, Jamie revises his note.
The palate is fresh and quite complex, with minerally, sappy undertones to the red fruits. I’m also getting the faintest hints of freshly turned earth. It’s an incredible wine - a bit like a shy person, who you are a bit tempted to dismiss on first impressions, but when you get to know them you realize they are a really interesting, deep, beautiful human being.
The wine here reveals itself on a more profound, complex level, inviting the contrapositions of incredibly elegant - thick textured - richness - not by any means rich.
It is fair to say that wines have different shapes and our palates tend to prefer one shape to another. Intrinsically, there seem to be linear wines - these stay true to your initial impression of them; their arc of development may be lower, but often their purity is finer. More generously contoured wines change more dramatically during the journey, and, whereupon the more structured examples can achieve a balance of various flavour components - and thus maintain their integrity - the wines which are fulsome and over-amplified quickly collapse, revealing their hollow core. For those who like their wines full of flavour and broad of beam the slim-line character of, for example, a red from the Jura, a left bank Bordeaux or a Pinot from, say, Hubert de Montille, would hold little attraction, whilst those whose palates naturally crave austerity and minerality find the rich combination of alcohol, oak and sweet fruit a big turn-off.
Shy, elegant (that word again) wines have a structural sophistication which is easy to miss. The Torrette of di Barro has brilliant integrity and truly conveys its terroir - the mineral component and fresh acid lift of the wine keeps the wine alive in the mouth and encourages and provokes you to further explore its nuances. Great wine forces me to appreciate it on various levels; I taste from all angles, I evaluate objectively, and I also allow myself to surrender uncritically to the subtleties of the flavours. If you like I employ both sense and sensibility. I rarely, if ever, revisit a wine that flaunts all its wares on first acquaintance; there is nowhere to go after that.