In a "gonzo" biography published today, <strong>Robbie Brechin</strong> unpacks the large and unconventional life of South Australian wine writer Philip White.
indaily.com.au
To celebrate the publication of "gonzo" wine writer Philip White's biography
Blood on the typewriter I've dedicated this review to the man himself. The wine in question (a 2005 Noon Reserve Cabernet) was gifted to me by esteemed fellow forum devotee
@Rug, who happens to be another admirer of Whitey's inspired flights of literary derring-do. I can only quote another writer DBC Pierre:
"Sod the wine, I want to suck on the writing."
NOON 2005 RESERVE CABERNET
Whoa, what a white-knuckled ride down the glass escalator this black beauty turned out to be! Like a dog that's been kept on a leash all day this baby blew smoke rings the second the cork was pulled. The 2005 Noon Reserve Cabernet represents the extreme red gooseberry end of the Cabernet spectrum, buttoned up in an oak overcoat, with big ripe tannins babysitting exuberant, primary, blackberry-cassis fruit.
At 17% ABV all you need is a corkscrew and a seatbelt, even after seventeen years lying dormant under its Damoclean shard of Portugese bark this is no faded old lady with twinkling eyes. The nose is so titanic you taste it long before you drink it. With the texture of camphor wood and loganberry jam turned to kid leather, the beautiful tannic onslaught coats the mouth like a mink coat leaving behind an almost vinous black hole in space.
Like an ancient staircase kept carefully clean but never quite free of dust, this big-boned baby still has a surprisingly fresh, come-hither, juicy-fruited essence of voluptuousness that is tempered by an overarching sensation of rough suede with emery edges. At each sip fragile mineral shards pierce the pillowy softness of ripe boysenberries. This is an aged Cabernet dressed in Versace and a feather boa, elegant and complex with big muscles at rest.
Despite the cubist pastiche of flavours, overlaid with its decadently biscuity pong, this red is so delicious it provokes gasps of awe and bewilderment in equal measure. This is wine-drinking of the extreme, olympic kind, hairy-chested and muscular, so big it has its own post code and a finish that will stay with you even as you drive out of the carpark, sit down, shut up and enjoy the ride...