Taylor Made

An Australian winemaking family presses on

A kangaroo looks through the vines at one of the Taylor family’s vineyards in Clare Valley, South Australia. photo courtesy Wakefield Wines

Justin Taylor was born in 1969, the year his family transitioned from operating a chain of pubs and wine shops in Sydney to producing wine in South Australia’s Clare Valley.

His grandfather, father and uncle travelled to Bordeaux to learn about the styles of wines they hoped to make back home.

“They sold all the pubs and they went and planted 230 acres of cabernet sauvignon,” says Taylor. He explains that it was the largest planting of the variety in the Southern Hemisphere at that time. “I still have the conversation with them: ‘What were you thinking?’”

They planted cabernet sauvignon based on its popularity with clients at their previous business. According to Taylor, who is the third-generation company director and senior international sales manager for Wakefield Wines, his family wanted to produce wines that combined Old World elegance combined with Australian ripeness. More than 50 years later, that’s still the business model.

Canadian consumers have embraced Wakefield’s portfolio, making Canada one of the top three export markets, alongside New Zealand and China. Taylor attributes this success to lasting relationship with import agents like Profile Wine Group and liquor store buyers. It also helps that wine lovers have connected with the family’s commitment to selling quality wines at affordable prices.

You can read more in this week’s Globe and Mail wine column. A gift link to the column appears below.

Justin Taylor has spent more than 20 years making sales calls to Canada for his family’s Australian wines, and he has never been more optimistic about their fortunes.

“The last five or six years have been challenging. People haven’t been rushing into the Australian section,” says Taylor, the third-generation company director and senior international sales manager for Wakefield Wines. “But right now, it does feel like we’re pushing against an open door.” (Gift link to article)

Saturday’s Sip

Speaking of Old World elegance…

Château Plantey 2020
Pauillac, Bordeaux, France $34.95 (38192)

This flavourful, well-structured red wine is a blend of equal parts cabernet sauvignon and merlot, produced by a Cru Bourgeois estate located in Pauillac. The Cru Bourgeois classification system, which relies on blind tasting and various other criteria, oversees the Médoc region of Bordeaux and is updated every five years. This wine exhibits a ripe blackcurrant flavour, balanced by youthful tannins and refreshing acidity, which contribute to its age-worthy character. For best enjoyment, decant if you plan to drink it now. This has 14.5 per cent ABV and 2 g/litre r.s. Drink now to 2032. Available in Ontario. (90/100)

If I Had Your Number…

Here is an article link I would text to you.

It Takes Two

Wine Tastes Different After the Second Sip — Here’s Why (foodandwine.com)

If you’ve ever taken one sip of a wine and instantly decided “nope,” you’re not alone. Sometimes, our brains just love to make a snap judgment, especially when a flavor is unfamiliar, the wine is colder than expected, or the first thing you notice is a surprising zing of acid or grip of tannin.

But here’s the trick seasoned tasters use (and casual drinkers should absolutely steal): always take two sips before you decide whether you actually like a wine or not.

There’s real physiology behind this. Flavor isn’t just taste buds; it’s a collaboration between taste, smell, touch, and even pain receptors. When wine hits your mouth, you’re sensing basic tastes, like sweet, sour, bitter, salty, and umami. But you’re also feeling astringency (that drying sensation from tannins), heat from alcohol, and carbonation if it’s sparkling. Those sensations can be loud on a first sip, sometimes even louder than the fruit, floral, or spice notes you’re trying to detect. That first splash around acts as a necessary introduction for calibration. Read more here.

First Listens

American singer-songwriter Lindsey Erin Jordan, who performs as Snail Mail, has released her third album, Ricochet, on Matador Records. She recorded her debut album, Lush, while in high school, which brought back memories of the young bands I used to cover, such as Thrush Hermit and Plumtree — intelligent, earnest and talented. Lush appeared on many international albums of the year lists in 2018. Plumtree and Thrush Hermit did not enjoy similar success. I’m still forming an impression of her latest release, but the first listen was promising. I would have given it a glowing review in Exclaim!, the music and entertainment magazine that I helped to edit. “My Maker” is an early favourite. Lyrically, it’s about flying a plane to heaven, drinking at the airport bar, and contemplating life and death. Musically, it draws comparisons to The Sundays and trip-hop acts like Tricky or Massive Attack. That track inspired this week’s playlist, which features songs loosely connected to the sound of Jordan’s new album. It also includes “Pure Sticker Shock” from the latest release by The New Pornographers, which also merits repeated listening.

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