WW Review: Sandstone Cellars XI

Last Spring I attended the Hill Country Wine and Music Festival in Fredericksburg, TX. I sought out the wineries I didn't know: Fall Creek, CapRock, Duchman, and Sandstone Cellars. During the tasting, I was drawn to Sandstone Cellar's XI, a blend of Syrah, Mourvedre, Tourgia, and Viognier. When we finally visited, this same wine struck me again. I knew that this rare find -- a good buy at $25 -- was a wine I had to write about. This layered wine provided a complex experience that intrigued my senses and my mind.

Water Tower at Sandstone Cellars

One thing needs to be said about the wines at Sandstone Cellars: they are complicated. These are not easy-sipping wines that are drunk and forgotten about. These wines open up only to those who put in the effort. That said, the effort has an incredible pay-off. This is a journey. As Gary Jones from Texas Wine Camp puts it, "It's grown up wine."

The Tasting

Art by Bill Worrell

 The aroma is one of smoky fruit. It made me think of grilling fruit. There is that smoky edge that mingles with the sweetness of fruit; in this case, it is very dark berries. Hidden at the end of this is a tinge of tobacco, but it is hard to find without taking the time. All of these scents lead well into the actually tasting.

As I said earlier, this is a layered wine: one flavor gives way to another. The fact that the wine seems somehow light, is a surprise with all the flavors coming together. This lightness, my guess a result of the Viognier, provides a great platform for what could be very powerful flavors.

The first thing is fruit. This fruit is still a berry, but a much lighter one than the aroma. The aroma could be best described as more of a dark blackberry, but the taste is a soft strawberry. The fruit is rich and succulent, like a juicy ripe berry. This layer lures the taster in.

A smoke and earth undertone sits beneath the fruit, providing it a strong foundation. These flavors help the wine to stay dry, as well as engender a bolder sense of things. The earth -- a dry and rich sensation, is predominate, providing the boldness to the fruit -- as if the fresh tilled soil was a part of the flavor in the fruit. The smoke lingers though, helping to dry out the wine and keep it focused.

As the tasting continues, the two parts feel less like layers. It is not long before the two intermingle and blend. The two concepts become one as the rich and dry flavors settle down. This is finally extenuated by a quick end, like a crisp white wine (the Viognier maybe?).

Imagery

This wine reminds me of a late Spring, early Summer afternoon rain.  Why so specific, because the odd layered sensation that later blends is more like a rain (not a storm) at that time of the year.

An early storm from Grape Creek, Fredericksburg, TX

Layered Moment

The beam, it slants

and casts a golden filter on the gray day.

Each blade of grass, a streak of emerald,

shines and cuts through the shadows

even as it slumps and jumps

back up under a raindrop's weight.

Sitting under the large canopy,

the leaves keep out most of the rain;

I can watch the rain soften the world,

make it sleek and new. 

I can know this moment

when dark and light meet

and share a space, 

make it more than it ought to be.

These sorts of rains come in slow, creeping across the sky. In the end, it does not get dark; instead, the sky is a light gray that is permeated by sunlight. Through the soft, dark clouds, the sun slips through. This is like the layering as the wine starts to blend -- they are separate at first, but in the end, they come together.

As a storm moves in -- San Antonio, TX

What I always find so remarkable during these showers is the light. It is almost as if a filter has been put on the sun, a filter that can bring out certain colors, make them more vibrant. The grass is often the most affected, as it turns a brilliant shade of emerald that doesn't seem like it should exist. This always makes the season seem ripe, in bloom. The wine's fruit flavors and the rich earthiness mirror this.


The soft light rain that comes down isn't slow, but it isn't fast, just even paced. The average size raindrops splatter into large bursts when they first hit the ground, making the less careful observer think that the rain is bigger and heavier than it is. Slowly, the ground turns slick, and it glistens with its thick coat. This is how it feels as the wine begins to blend. The fruit is deceptive -- it seems so rich, but in the end, it is a soft coat over the earthiness that feels fresh.

Summer Storm -- San Antonio, TX Medical Center area

Finally, this brief shower cools the day; it may still feel warm, but there is a sense of coolness when breathing in and out. Of course, the coolness becomes less noticeable as the world adjusts to it. The wine's different flavors are like these; they lose their individual power as they are more united; as we adjust to the them and they us, there is a comfort and ease that follows. It is at this point that the wine can be casually sipped without such meticulous observation.


Each Sandstone Cellars wine I have had takes me on a journey. Some offer me a challenge, a hike or climb in tough terrain, some of them are more like a good game, making me concentrate and focus on a goal. XI walks me through those days when I would sit outside and watch the showers stroll in and hold us in their power for a short while before strolling away. I remember many days just marveling at the sensations: the colors, the scents, the temperatures. This wine helps me to recapture such beautiful moments and relive them any time, any day, and any season.

WW: Politics and Religion @ Hilmy Cellars

This past weekend, I had the opportunity to try a brand new release at Hilmy Cellars. The 2010 Politics and Religion red blend has been a mystery since the winery opened. From the very beginning, release dates were sketchy, but everyone knew something was coming. Early estimations had been July, but that month went and passed with no word. But as the Fall wine shipment appeared on the horizon, teasers came out. And before we all knew it, the new blend was about to see the light of day.

Politics and Religion at the tasting release party

A Little Back Story

This is one of the early wines made by the winery, but it was been left aging for quite awhile. This is a 2010 vintage that was bottled only days before the unveiling -- Tuesday and Wednesday before the Saturday release. As of right now, this wine has had time to develop in the barrel, and the early taste shows that this aging added a lot of earthiness and oak to the flavor. However, this wine is still very new to the bottle; the flavors are not yet melded and balanced, still struggling in their new container. It is still drinkable at this time, but it will be best left to rest in the bottle for a bit. I would easily estimate a few more months, so maybe a Christmas pairing is in order.

This blend is comprised of a popular Texas grape, Mourvedre, and the always blendable Merlot. The grapes make a nice pairing, bringing two different approaches to a wine. Without any other major grapes added, both are able to sing out. And that is perfect considering the quality of the grapes. The grapes come from Andy Timmons' Lost Draw Vineyards in the High Plains. The heritage of the grapes adds to the developing success of the blend.

Tasting

Right now, the dark fruit flavors are the powerhouse here, a dominating force throughout the entire tasting experience. They stride forth with the just the aroma. Dark fruit, especially the deeper berries (and to a lesser degree, plum) are strong from first smell to final taste. In fact, upon first tasting, the fruit is bold and heavy; it is a weight that settles in and fills everything. It is a sense of decadence with such powerful fruit.

The fruit starts to soften around mid-palate as the earth and oak begin to emerge. There is a strange dustiness to the final essence, like the ground beneath the summer sun. The earth and minerals tend toward this drier sense, playing with the hint of oak that seems just out of reach.

At this point, the fruit and earth are not well balanced. The fruit seems to rest on top of the earth, almost like a thick blanket on a cool day. This isn't unpleasant; the great flavors are clear and tasty,  drawing the taster back. But the wine is still young in the bottle. The earth has not collected and strengthened to match the fruit, and so they have not quite come together to create a more unified experience. However, towards the end, as both slowly fade, the earth is stronger, almost a match for the fruit. Here the flavors begin to weave. This was the sign I was looking for (a trait I noticed in the Vintage Texas Tannat from Bending Branch). This lush and desirable flavors are just starting to get to know one another in the bottle. Until they do, the one that comes first will remain dominate; however, with time, the other will grow stronger and join with its partner. In time, this wine will have a rich and luxurious complexity that will be a delight (just as I suspect from the Vintage Tannat).

Visual Tasting

This wine, right now, is an early summer, one that has already seen the force of the sun and the heat. The ground is dry, the loose grains rustling in a heat driven breeze. A few inches down is just more loosening dirt, lightening in color. Here it is not soil; it is not unified. However, just a little further, the ground darkens, softens, and knits together in the tightest of weaves. It is hidden and waiting for just the right moment to reach toward the sky.

And along this ground creeps dark green weeds. Clover and similar hearty plants dance along the surface of the loose dirt. The dirt can only be seen in patches, a hint visible through the skeletal lace of the tendrils and vines that reach out from the root. These tangled vines creep and crawl along the dirt, lacing their way along the surface, touching only lightly; the contact is limited. But at that root, those same vines turn into a great vein that suddenly dives deep and reaches for what hides beneath. It desires the comfort and strength of the soil; it reaches out to join with it. The two are almost one here, invisible to the sun's gaze. They hide and wait until the rains come, until the sun dims, and a new season allows them to fully be what they are meant to be.

Like the weeds that struggle through the harshest Texas summers, the wine waits until the right moment is upon it. At that time, the flavors will come together into something all its own. The weeds will wait, keeping their light dominance over the dust and soil (just as the fruit stays on top). When Fall rains arrive to soak the surface, the vein and soil below will reach up, gathering the tendrils to them, and a blanket will spread and fill the land, a carpet of green and lush scents only possible when the earth and plants are one. If we can just wait, the dust in the wine will clear, grow into a lush earthiness that will mingle and weave into the fruit to make a wine that will be one that all will agree on, unlike the two topics the name evokes.