A beguiling pale pink/orange colour, the nose shows sweet strawberry & cream aromas which precede a fine-beaded palate of poise & balance, creamy texture, medium acid and pleasantly dry finish. Quite lovely.

Lightly cheesy nose. The acid is surprisingly soft on the palate, giving a smooth texture, though not without refreshment. Fine bubbles, good balance on the palate and long persistent finish are the hallmarks; it’s not especially luxurious but none the worse for that.

The Maligny offers a low intensity nose of subtle lemon aromas, a minimum of acidity on the palate, and clean citric flavours carrying some fruit sweetness in an almost New World way. Understated, but let down a little by a quite short finish.

The Moreau was more distinct, with grapefruit/sweaty aromas, although still quite subtle. Low-medium acidity, a clean light body and a short finish. A bit anonymous perhaps, but respectable value.

Maligny offers purer lemon citrus with a bit more acid and freshness [than its Petit Chablis sibling], clean and modern, but the finish is still quite short.

The Moreau tends more to pungent rockmelon in its fruit aromas. There’s a bit more acid here on the palate, citrus fruits emerge, and the overall balance is quite good. Light body, and still a wine focused on fresh impact rather than length.

From probably the best Premier Cru in Chablis, Maligny‘s aromas are still reserved citrus and stone fruit. There’s better intensity on the mid-palate, despite the lightweight body the medium acid gives a persistent freshness to the finish. Very fruit-driven, no apparent oak notes on palate.

The Moreau wine was surprisingly similar [to the 04 Maligny Fourchaume], despite the additional two years bottle age, the same spectrum of citric fruits are apparent, with little secondary development or flinty notes. The palate is clean enough, lacking a little in freshness beside the previous wine; like observing the same painting through a faint gauze. No shortage of ripeness in either wine, it must be said.

The ullage levels on these [three] wines were actually pretty good, it seemed, until the capsules revealed they were sealed with emaciated little corks measuring all of 45mm long! All three wines were a deep gold in colour, and bore unmistakeable similarities on nose and palate. The 1992 was suspiciously packaged, the bottle wearing an old early 80s-style label devoid of alcohol content, with the vintage printed on a small white oversticker. The nose was of medium intensity, honeyed-but-oxidised fruits, with a suggestion of botrytis. The palate disappointed in comparison, with little acid evident, the wine hollowed out and dry, and the lack of freshness leading to a short harsh finish.

The 1989, despite a slightly sweeter aspect to the nose [than the 92], took the same basic components to a further palate stage, the oxidation more pronounced and the fruit correspondingly reduced.

Perhaps surprisingly, the 1987 was by far the best of the wines [92 & 89]. The developed nose of toast, honey and crème bruleé includes an interesting earthy note. The seriously dry palate comes as a bit of a surprise after such a sweetly tinged nose, but the acidity is just hanging in there, holding oxidation at bay enough to keep this wine walking a tightrope. The finish does fall away a bit, but this wine is of more than just academic interest. Drink up quickly, though, it’s clearly on the slide.

{14%, screwcap} Artfully devoid of any geographic indication on the label apart from the mandatory ‘Made in Australia’, this clean garnet-coloured wine has a nose of smoke, bacon and other general delicatessen notes. There are spice and cherry flavours on the palate, which has medium-high acid, little oak, and some furry grape astringency. Warm on the palate, the finish is dry, light, smoky and quite short. Acceptable enough, though hardly profound.

{13%, cork} From the non-Premier Cru-classified part of the Prieur vineyard (I’d happily defend the AOC classification system of Burgundy all the way up to the notion of classifying part of a vineyard, which is plain ridiculous), this mid-garnet ‘village’ wine has subtle aromas of earth cherry and smoke. The acid is low-level on the palate, the tannins are low-level soft. Mid-weight in body, the sour-cherry fruit is a bit clunky, but nicely balanced across the length of the palate. Not much development of gamey complexity or anything. Medium length persistent finish – beguiling rather than enchanting.

{14.5%, cork} Dark ruby in colour, the nose is of inky iodine with plush velvety vanillan oak overlaid. Swingeing grape tannins dominate the palate, acid is low, and there’s a warm mouthfeel that really does convey the hot climate of this area. Perhaps a faintly medicinal/bretty note is present too; overall I find it a bit clumsy, although not especially aggressive. A bumptious country cousin of a wine…

Blend 23. This must be one of the most distinctive wines in Australia. The nose is all sweet cedary/vanillan oak, in a soft cuddly kind of way, an aroma which blends perfectly with the sweet eucalypt/gumdrop fruit underneath. Unobtrusive acid is still holding it together, and although the weight is towards the front palate, the medium weight and length finish makes a pleasant, if perhaps polarising, wine. Best drink up – I think the cedary note will only increase over time, and not to the benefit of the experience…

{14.1%, cork} Welcome to the lumberyard. There is some blackcurrant fruit here, but it’s buried under more oak than the mouth can comfortably handle. Spiky acidity suggests clumsy additions somewhere in the winery. Such fruit as I find is ripe enough, but overwhelmed by splintery tannins dominating the front palate. A full-bodied wine, but in a clumsy way. Others liked it more than me – it’s a style thing!

{14%, cork} Even at ten years of age, this is an intense deep ruby colour. The nose offers plenty of ultra-ripe (not quite raisined) blueberry & chocolate aromas over vanilla oak. The palate is clean and ripe, with some resiny notes, medium strength tannins, and yet it has a hollowness to it. The wine has a feel of disjointedness, as though the attempt to make something big and in-your-face has caused the intrinsic quality of the fruit (which was very high, I have no doubt) to have been bludgeoned by an entire textbook of winemaking techniques which, ten years later, just leave you wishing they had done as little as possible with it. It’s not a bad wine by any means, it’s quite good, in fact, but it could have been great.

{375ml, 11%, cork} The magic of cork. Two bottles purchased together and stored cheek-by-jowl for fifteen years are distinctly different shades of gold, one a bright brassy colour, the other dark copper. The copper wine was predictably duller on the nose, flatter and more oxidised on the palate than its brighter brethren, which offered burnished candied caramel/apricot fruits, enough acid to hold the wine together, and a long, moderately complex finish. These old wines are holding together far better than the Noble One’s of the 90s.

{375ml, 9.7%, cork} Under the Carramar Estate brand name. Mid gold. Under the rich botrytis nose there’s a surprisingly light note of muscatty grapiness. Ripe and ultra-sweet on the palate. Sadly, it’s so low in acid that it’s become flabby, just sweetly rotting fruit notes without the interest of refreshment. Drink up quickly.

{375ml, 10%, cork} Light gold. A spirity nose of grapes and apricots. Rich fruit, soft acid. Luscious but cloying. Another sticky which was a better wine in its earlier vintages.