Tannic Teeth

Whisper wine bar is my kind of (wine)bar.

It’s cosy, francophillic, and focuses on the company of others to entertain you. No LCD monitors playing the latest SKY broadcast here, just plain, unabandoned human interaction. The place could have been surgically removed from a Parisian corner if not for the lustrous Jarrah tables and floors which shine like spilt Burgundy.

On the other hand, I can see why some people wouldn’t like it. It has no coffee, only a handful of beers and even less Scotch (and you can forget the other spirits). And the approach to food is as canny as the reason for the choice of only just 7 wines by the glass. Keep it simple.

There is a very good reason why small bars work. Well, to begin with they’re, um, small. Size of a bar weeds out rambunctious behaviour for the same reason why we, as humans, go inexplicably silent when riding a lift full of strangers. The staff at a small bar provide efficient service because the ratio of staff to patron is higher. You get to know the staff and the exchange is mutual. It’s the same reason why you’d want to be on first-name basis with your butcher, baker or candlestick maker. Whisper’s reception is warm, casual and intellectual. It’s geared more like ‘that corner bar’ feel that you’d pay several thousand dollars on travel to experience in France.

The menu is astonishingly simple. Fresh baguette and duck pate. Marinated octopus and goats cheese. These are bold flavours that have several wine-match options. There is something provincially satisfying when you have a chalky dry white back-to-back with a liver pate and watch the street turn sepia in the sun. People travel farther to France, pay more, for less.

Whisper Wine Bar has a saucy little cellar of wines spanning very reasonably priced Australians through to cherry-picked Frenchies. You can find that eclectic trove up stairs in a glass vault, although it’s only marginally more seducing than the romantic balcony that overflows with views of Essex St.

I’d wish to see a rambling cobbled Parisian back alleyway, but you can’t have your crêpe and eat it too.

After receiving an email of a former-reader now hungry-reader, desperate to “take her husband to somewhere yummy on the weekend”, I have been piled high with guilt. So I’ve self-lurched back into writing another post, this time perilously close to a wine-review deadline. If I miss the cut-off date, you are to blame. Yes, you know who you are.

I’m a sucker for a good wine list.

It can tell a great deal about the experience and confidence the propriters have, their worldly awareness of all things vinous, and the degree of playfullness their clients have with the dollar bill.

At Lamont’s Cottesloe the carte du vin is as extensive as any cerebral bottle-shop — for it is a restaurant spliced with a fine wine store.

Set in a row of shops on Cottesloe’s Station Street, this Lamont’s is the forth incarnation by owner-chef, Kate Lamont. The vision of an enoteca, of serving wine by the glass, light meals to something substantial with an open option for cafe, came into fruition in 2008. Yes it’s a small bar, yes it’s a restaurant, and yes, it’s a winestore. The place is packed on the later days of the week with most of the movers-and-shakers of Perth.

Diners sit alongside the kitchen which stretches the length of the store — as do the wine racks — giving an involved atmosphere to the food. The dramatic face of the kitchen, with it’s many moods of the night, and gastronomic miracles woven, are for all for the viewing. You can sit behind a wall of Comte Georges de Vogue Chambolle–Musigeny and dream of drinking every bottle. This restaurant marries sense-of-place well.

Rolling with the seasons, the menu follows the cycle of years in thigh-cast ripples. It’s modern Australian in style, with no holding back on calories. Winter had the standout dishes of duck arancini and venison chorizo. Oh, and the memory of the pork rillette — my liver just got hard thinking about it. They’re full-flavoured, provincal-esque, and laconically satisfying.

The dining experience overall — each time I’ve been there — has been great.

It’s what you’d expect from the restaurant in Cottesloe and surrounds. And it’s what you’d expect to pay.

The thought struck me the other day while walking through Subiaco, how things are falling into place. Initially they started off slowly, like the trajectory of the sun in summer, but we do get there in the end. I also thought, it’s often the people who hold the doors open for us, or show us the way, that we get to where we are wanting to. I wanted to add this category of “People who inspire me”, to acknowledge people in my life who have been influential. Thank You.

Larry Cherubino

There are few people in possession of a palate as acute, or a business mind as savvy. Combine the two, and it’s no surprise that Larry has won the coveted title of James Halliday’s ‘Winery of the Year 2011′. In a parallel of wine tasting worlds, Matt Skinner also named him ‘Producer of the Year’ in his annual 2011 wine guide. Larry has travelled the world making wines in USA, France, Italy and New Zealand, and knows what works to the enth degree.

I had the opportunity of interviewing Larry for SPICE magazine back in Winter 2008. We talked, ‘why he chose to settle in Frankland River’, the upcoming grape varieties, and the environmental future of Great Southern Region. Every answer was impressive, showing a tender thought process involved. Larry gave me the opportunity to work alongside him, helping out in communications. Doors have opened to other places.

Larry’s perceptive intensity shows in his work. His wine range Ad Hoc, The Yard and Cherubino all respectively over-deliver on price, are smartly dressed packages, and have a single vineyard focus. The latter is an important issue to ensure Australia’s export and domestic market doesn’t suffer from becoming an amorphous vinous multi-regional punch.

He’s leading the way with a new philosophy for the way things are done in the vineyard and winery.

And it looks to be a raging success.

Tapas is today what “sun-dried tomato and basil” was in the 1990s.

You can’t dine at any small bar without hearing the words tapas, tapasy, share-plates and the likes.

In many ways it’s a welcome change to the usual stiff formality of  Anglo-Gallic cuisine that calls for the traditional entree, main, dessert.

We live in an age where we like to have more options. And let’s face it, we all know the questioning eyebrow we flick when we see a fellow diner order something better only to look down at our lack-lustre plate-of-boring.

I guess, it was only a matter of time before people wanted small meals that actually filled your belly like a bigger one. Diners needed options, and the Spanish had it for ages. The benefits are — for those who like to try all flavours under the sun — an endless procession of flavour.

Tapas etymologically is derived from the Spanish word tapar “to cover”. One of many tales of tapas-genesis are the Andalusian sherry drinkers who wanted to keep away hovering fruit fly. Committed not to have a fly in the ointment, they covered their glasses with a slice of bread. Bits of cured meats — salivatingly salty — served along side the bread, gave sherry drinkers a reason to stay on. To abate a salty tongue with more alcohol, restauranteurs loved the idea. Ta-dah, tapas!

True tapas is a mix of seafoods, slow-cooked  and cured meats, cheese of every description, and seasonal veggies. Convergent evolution has it’s benefits — Asia came up with Yum Cha.

Erring closer to contemporary tapas than something that would be found on an Andalusian street corner, we sizzled a few chorizo, dry battered fingers of haloumi and crunched it down with Onion and Thyme marmalade on the now ubiquitous turkish bread. To provide the redeeming flash of cleansing acidity, Larry Cherubino’s — The Yard ‘Channeybearup’ Pemberton Sauvignon Blanc 2009 was all that was needed.

[Insert here: a dew-fresh night, a temperamental gas heater, laughter-lines and smile-creases of full bellies in good company.]

Tasting for Cherubino The Yard ‘Channeybearup’ Pemberton Sauvignon Blanc 2009

“Valiantly standing in the face of the trans-Tasman Sauvignon Blanc tsunami, The Yard gives Australia (and Pemberton) something to ripple back to NZ. It’s pristine and highly varietal on the nose, polished gem-like in appearance holds nothing back on the palate. Gooseberry, nettle, some white peach as well. With texture that you just want to nibble at, piece-meal at a time, for the flavours burrow down into your tongue like a little lemon-lime driven auger. Impeccably balanced with a keen eye set on longevity, akin to a white Bordeaux. It takes guts to make SB in a market full of cheap imports — then to do it so well against the tide. 18.5 pts”

Who would ever think that one of the most destructive introduced pests to Australia would fetch $21 per kilo at your butcher? Though I can say that these rabbits are farmed; they’re white (to be honest I prefer the wild rabbit) and pretty much taste like – you guessed it – chicken. And for a whole boned sectioned carcass, that’s about $24 a pop.

Leaner than beef, pork and chicken, rabbit meat is per meter squared, the most ecologically sustainable animal protein. They can be grown in hutches, mature quickly and, er, breed like rabbits. I don’t understand why rabbit meat isn’t:

1) cheaper

2) introduced widely among culinary menus (along with Kangaroo).

3) readily avilable available (thanks wonderfully accurate and anonymous literati for your contribution)

Our hopping friends are our only future if every one of the 6.6 billion hungry mouths are to get adequate protein and not reduce the earth to dust.

So we thought we would roast a rabbit (or two) and enjoy with some WA wine. I’ve kept wine it in the theme of the Rhône Valley. Shiraz (Syrah), Viognier, Marssane, and Roussane.

I could have been daring and picked a few bunnies off the road on the way to the butchers. But with the recent spell of Bikram weather, they’ed be close to jerky au jus than anything else.

If I were to tell you there’s a small bar where you can take a burger or pizza from next door, plonk yourself down on plump sofa, order a sinister bottle of red and the staff would be cool with that, you would think I’m telling a porky pie.

But there is. It’s approachable, friendly and fosters a sense of community. It’s called The Stanley.

A relatively new small bar situated next to the Flipside burger bar, The Stanley offers a casual yet classy approach to the small bar scene. There is no socialite premise here, of course if you want to mingle so be it, but it’s also nice to just sit on the plush array of sofas and chairs (there is even a chaise longue) and soak up the house party like atmosphere. Rearrange the small chairs to your group’s liking. It’s no biggie.

If you’re coming here, don’t think about cocktails. There is not a Boston Shaker to be seen. You will however find rows of Riedel O (funky stemless wine glasses) and a well considered rack of Reds and Whites; with all but two wines offered by the glass. Generally speaking the focal points of wines fall into WA for whites, and South Australia for Red. There are some international runners and I’m sure this will change over time. There are some usual suspects for an international beer list and cider drinkers are not left out in the cold.

The intention for this small bar to be a place where locals can swan down, have a leisurely glass of whatever for whatever, is not far off the mark. It reveals the Irish flare by the management, for something reminiscent of home, seen by the blinged up Jesus and the patron saint of The Stanley. It’s all very cheeky. The Sunday morning priests would be getting hot around the collar. Oh, and check out the toilet door signs. I LOL’D.

It’s a little bit of cheeky ecclesiastical wholesome fun.

Catha-holic.

The Stanely

Wednesday – Thursday 4pm – 11pm

Friday and Saturday 3pm-12pm

Sunday 2pm-10pm

294 Cambridge St, Wembley

08 93474481

The Perth Hills Wine Show has been running for a few years now. From the very beginning the wineries have made a spirited effort to improve the quality of their wines, because at times, it has been thought the region has not made wines of any notoriety. This year saw a record number of medals awarded than any previous show. There was a 50% medal award. That may not sound like much but when you consider a large wine show like Sydney or Melbourne, the medal takings are hover below the 40 mark. You could draw two things from it. One the competition is not so great in a wine show like Perth Hills OR the Perth Hills is punching above its weight. I would go for the latter. As the judges brought in this year were a mix of outer regional and national. 5 Gold, 11 Silver and 42 Bronze. Not bad for region not considered to produce super premium wines.

Stand out wines (Gold Medal Winners):

Thumbprint Wines 2009 Rose

Western Range Wines 2006 Julimar Shiraz Viognier

MyattsField Vineyards 2008 Shiraz Mourvedre Viognier

Western Range Wines 2005 Shiraz Mourvedre Viognier

Western Range Wines 2006 Goyamin Pool Cabernt Merlot

Lion Mill Vineyards 2007 Home Block Reserve (Blend)

Western Range Wines 2002 Julimar Liquid Gold Liqueur Muscat

When: Sat 8 & Sun 9 Auguest  11am – 5pm

Where: The Hub Mundaring ( 8 Craig St Mundaring)

Cost: $15

So the Dead Arm Shiraz has a bit of a name for itself. If you don’t know the history of the wine, there is a certain fungi (Eutypa lata) that renders part of the vine dead, hence the ‘dead arm’.  Apparently it also makes the quality of grapes on the remaining half of higher quality. Apparently.

Well in all intents and purposes it DOES deliver a good wine. Though one may achieve this though drought stress, canopy management, fruit thinning to achieve a higher quality crop and thus resulting wine.

The instant character fresh from lively decant is a splattered array of blackcurrant and reduced red fruits. Though over time the nose grows a hairy animal belly and locks itself behind something akin to a leather suit case. Hints of succulent berry do poke though, but you’re going to need your beagle with you to find them. Flavourful and giving on the palate with a good punchy long lasting end. There could have been more fruit sweetness but you can’t have everything in one glass. As expected for the price. RRP $60

Champagne goes straight to my head. Well if you’re like me and immolate every meal in half an hour and have to constantly eat throughout the day then -yes- champagne on an empty stomach is asking for trouble. CO2 from the carbonation forces open your pyloric sphincter so you get a gut-full of alcohol. Not to mention the CO2 helps surcharge the assimilation into the blood stream. Ooooeeeee!!!

Taittinger Brut NV Champagne France RRP $100 AUD

‘Deep straw in colour on the nose wafts of lime with a certain flintyness. Brioche and general stocking of baked goods in there too. The complexity of the wine, is not overshadowed by the racy acidity, though it is in its own right quite tart. Layered over the palate, the mousse is fine, withfinesse of notable length. Two outstanding points to note. Fine mousse. Balance of fruit characters with aged complexity.’

Totally engulfed by development, Conti Wines sits on Wanneroo Rd in Woodvale. Vineyards, farms and market gardens have succumbed to the relentless suburban sprawl, dissolving only but the fiercest of primary producers.  Conti Winery is a veteran amongst the younger upstarts of our state, starting in 1958 -still family owned and operated, and actually doing well for an independent producer. A wine from the very vines that were planted in 1958- Hermitage back then – now Shiraz, called ‘Mariginiup’ Shiraz is one of great pedigree, with a loyal following over the decades. It is with this in mind, that I respectfully disgorged and swill away a bit of vinous history.

Paul Conti ‘Mariginiup’ Shiraz [Swan Plains] 2004 (Cork)

‘Deep red in colour, this wine exhibits a fragrant aroma much like boiled candies and pastille. Floral notes lurk in the background with anisette. The as-you-would-expect rich plums and red berries form the foundation, layered with said floral notes. Succulent mouth feel of this wine, despite being dry, provide much of a sensory perception, red fruits and sweeter but not jammy textures unfurl. Tannins are softer than what I would expect from a Swan Coastal Plain dry grown Shiraz, with the subtle hints of oak give an overall impression on a wine that has been crafted with balance and poise in mind. It’s not voluptuous or chunky, but rather finished in an elegant finesse something that would compliment food and not detract from the overall sensory package.’