The third and final part of August’s wines brings to the table five possibly less august bottles than we drank in Part 2, but then it’s all relative, isn’t it. In order to bring you these articles I have to drink as widely as I can. It’s just as well I’d do that anyway, whether I write about them or not. As a result, Part 3 reads, possibly more than ever, like some random bunch of wines. Oh, and cider. It nevertheless all tasted really good, I promise!

First up is a cider of special interest. Next a Chianti that I drank often in the 2000s but haven’t had for a long time. Then comes a Loire sparkler that I haven’t drunk for at least as long, a rather good Czech Pinot Noir from a name I’ve neglected since I first tasted his wines, and a superb new white Bordeaux made by a very talented outsider.

“Perfect Strangers” Artisan Cider 2018, Charlie Herring Wines (Hampshire, England)

Regular readers will have seen that I visited Tim Phillips in early August (hence my article of 23 August 2024). Whilst there I managed to leave with a small number of bottles, one of which was this vintage cider, made from the fruit of Tim’s orchard which sits just outside his walled vineyard, near Lymington. Note the vintage.

It is a widely held belief among the older school of drinks writer that cider, like petnat, Rosé and Fino Sherry, should be consumed as close to the date they were bottled as possible. Those of us who write about wine who are either physically or mentally under the age of fifty (the latter for me, of course) know this to be patently untrue, at least among the versions we all drink. Tim made this cider to prove a point, that vintage cider is well capable of ageing beautifully.

It is common with very old vintages of wine to recount what the world was like back when it was made. Things like “no internet, no smart phones”, or just “no colour television”. Here, I think it is enough to say this was made “pre-Covid”, equally a different world. It does seem like a long time ago.

Aged on lees after picking the fruit (a mix of eaters and cookers in this one, rather than pure cider varieties), this was only disgorged in May this year. The colour is an orange/pink on account of the addition of 3% of Tim’s South African Shiraz. Usually, Tim has added the wine at bottling but this time he added it into the barrel, and this has, I think, helped it integrate so that I don’t think you really know wine has been added, except for the colour. But in the “sum greater than its parts” sense, it undoubtedly adds to the whole.

The bubbles are extremely fine, Champagne-like. The bouquet is very pure apple zest, the palate is zippy and fresh, and very appley. But perhaps what the age brings is the spice you can taste, and real depth. Cider, when freshly made, can taste of springtime, lively and even skitty. This cuvée has the feel of early autumn. It works really well with food, in the same way that those more “gourmet” Champagnes do, the ones we serve with quail out of a Riedel Riesling glass, or a Zalto Universal, rather than a Zalto Champagne.

In many ways, this is a remarkable cider. Approachable, but something to interest those of us wine lovers who are open to new flavours and textures. Not quite as “unicorn” as Tim’s wines, but this is still so scarce I can’t see any around. But try asking Les Caves de Pyrene, or The Solent Cellar (in Lymington). If you can find any, it is remarkable value for around £18 (I think).

Chianti Classico 2019, Querciabella (Tuscany, Italy)

As I said in my introduction, I used to drink the wines of this property quite often back in the day. I think I first found it on a Tuscan trip in the late 1990s, and it began appearing in the UK as its reputation rose through the 2000s. The estate was built up by Giuseppe Castiglioni and then taken over by his son, Sebastiano Cossia Castiglioni in the early 2000s. Today the estate, in Greve in Chianti, is in the hands of Sebastiano’s sister, Mita, and has 40-hectares under vine producing somewhat more than 250,000 bottles a year, of which this Classico now accounts for around 180,000 bottles. This may sound a lot compared to the thousand or so units that individual artisans whose wines often grace these articles make, but a significant production doesn’t have to mean lesser quality. Take Dom Pérignon.

If Querciabella is most famous for its white blend of Chardonnay and Pinot Blanc called “Batàr” (now what does that sound like?), then the wine most of us will find on a retail shelf is its Chianti Classico. This wine used to have some Cabernet Sauvignon added, but this was reduced over the years, so that today the Classico is 100% Sangiovese. It comes from three plots which are tended with care to allow for “natural winemaking with minimal intervention”.

Ageing is around 14 months in mostly fine-grained oak of 225-litres (some 500-litre tonneaux and even larger oak is also used) before a selection is made of the best barrels set aside for this wine. Chianti Classico is no mere “entry level” wine at Querciabella. It rests a few more months in bottle before release.

The packaging is smart. The Querciabella labels have always appealed to me. The bouquet here is dominated by elegant cherry fruit with a noticeable pepper spice note. The palate has more crunchy cherry, a bit darker now, with depth and hints of nascent complexity. It does come in at 14% abv, but don’t let that put you off. It is nicely balanced.

It is only at the start of its drinking window. One suggested (importer) drinking window gave 2023 to 2030 for this 2019 vintage. The producer suggests it will be “mature” five years from the vintage (ie 2024), and then continue to improve for a decade. I would say that the producer’s nuance matches my expectation after drinking this. I’d certainly leave it a few years but if you do open one now, you should be impressed. My pendulum has swung back to Piemonte of late but a Tuscan wine always comes along to remind me to allow it to swing back a little.

Imported by Lay & Wheeler, this can be had for between £25 if you are very lucky, and £30. Solent Cellar sold me their last bottle, I’m afraid.

Triple Zéro NV, Domaine La Taille aux Loups (Loire, France)

Jacky Blot worked out of two locations, Domaine de la Butte near Bourgueil for mostly red wines, and Domaine La Taille aux Loups at Husseau, just east of Montlouis, along the left bank of the Loire, where Chenin Blanc reigns. I’ve visited the domaine at Husseau, though a very long time ago, and that of fellow Montlouis producer, François Chidaine, also based in the same village. Both men in their own way put Montlouis on the map, an appellation forever in the shadow of Vouvray, over the river. Jacky passed away last year, and his son, Jean-Philippe is now in charge. By all accounts the domaines are in more than safe hands as J-P has been hands-on winemaker for the past decade.

Triple Zéro is a different take on sparkling Montlouis. The more often encountered AOP wine is effectively a Crémant, bottle-fermented like its sibling, Vouvray. This particular wine, being 100% Chenin Blanc like the Crémants, is made, like a petnat, by the Ancestral Method, but like a Crémant it is disgorged of its sediment before release. The name comes from having had zero chaptalisation, zero liqueur de tirage added and zero dosage, so no sugars added at any stage. The dry minerality we have here is also accentuated by the wine not going through its malolactic.

The result here is a bone-dry wine. Some may think it too dry whilst others will adore that aspect of its flavour profile. You get a clear wine in the glass, very bright, with crisp apple and pear aromas. The palate is similar. The importer uses the word “precise” and it is. It has a certain steeliness, and is certainly very dry, but there’s more than just that. There is a creaminess too, which plumps out the body. It is in no way a one-dimensional wine. In fact, the initial feeling of simplicity changes, giving a more complex array of flavours and scents as it opens. This makes it very versatile as a food match.

As with many sparkling wines, this will be better in a few years, but it is drinking nicely now if you want to appreciate it in its full “zero-zero(-zero)” magnificence. It is a little tight on opening, but it does unfurl. In some ways, assuming you like a very dry sparkler, I would recommend this over any other sparkling wine from Montlouis and Vouvray, much as there are a few other fantastic cuvées I could name.

Triple Zéro was a gift from a wine-loving neighbour when we moved house, but it is quite widely available, perhaps most easily, by coincidence, from Lay & Wheeler again. It is also stocked by Justerinis. Expect to pay between £25 and £30 retail.

Pinot Noir “Výběr Z Ročníku” 2020, Jaroslav Springer (Moravia, Czechia)

Many years ago, around 2015 onwards, myself and a friend used to organise lunches at Rochelle Canteen in London, where people brought along “oddities”, strange bottles from strange places. It was at this time that I got to taste the first of very many Czech wines. Whether it was a wine from Milan Nestarec, because I bought his “Forks and Knives” from Newcomer Wines when they were in Shoreditch Box Park, five minutes from the restaurant, or whether it was a Springer Pinot Noir, I’m not sure, but those two certainly started my fruitful Czech wine journey.

I think what happened is that I got to drink a few of Jaroslav’s wines (most then appearing under the Stapleton & Springer label), and so when I later discovered many more of the natural wines on offer from Moravia, I sort of left them by the wayside. It was actually at a more recent tasting in Edinburgh that my nose and palate pricked up at this lovely and impressive wine, so I added a bottle into my next order from the importer. What I can tell you is that I shall definitely avoid neglecting this producer again.

If you read about the Springer winery, you will see that they are generally considered one of the best producers of Pinot Noir and Chardonnay in the Czech Republic, but that geographical restriction doesn’t really do them justice. Jaroslav’s son, Tomás, is now on-board with the winemaking, and this cuvée was made with Craig and Benjamin Stapleton, although they are not listed on the label.

This is a natural wine, as with all the wines I am buying from Czechia, but I would challenge anyone who didn’t know to spot that. There is a certain classical quality to it, but it is not restrained by viticultural or winemaking practices. What we have here is pretty much the equivalent in concept of the “village wine” you find in Burgundy. So, it doesn’t have “Cru” pretensions, but its quality at this level is the real test.

The bouquet is raspberry and strawberry fruit and the palate has red fruits underpinned with a little earthiness. The finish is good and quite long, with a lick of liquorice. By further explanation of the earthiness, the fruits are good and ripe, and also very smooth, but there is a savoury quality that remarkably doesn’t jar with the fruit. It has grip too, but is not especially “grippy”. In the same way as your senses prick up if you find a very good village Burgundy, that happened here.

At this price it’s not amongst the cheapest from the Czech Republic, yet I was nevertheless impressed and would spray this around as a gift if it were but a little cheaper. Especially as what remained in the bottle was even better on the second night, so it should age further. It’s still good value for what you get, around £30 via importer Basket Press Wines.

Blaye Côtes de Bordeaux Blanc 2020, Matthieu Cosse (Bordeaux, France)

White Bordeaux doesn’t pass my lips too often, no reflection on the wine, but more the fact that few wine retailers I frequent actually sell any. That may have changed since the most famous producer of natural wines in Cahors began making wines in the Bordeaux sub-regions of Blaye and Fronsac. It’s a joint project with a good friend of Matthieu’s, Jérôme Ossard, a Bordeaux veteran grape hunter of twenty-five years.

I tasted three of these wines last winter, and at the time I felt that the excellent reds still needed time, but that the white, which we have here, was the best of them all on the day. As a result, this was the first to translate to my cellar.

It is a blend of mostly Sauvignon Blanc with a little Muscadelle, selected from a two-hectare plot. As one would expect from Matthieu, only completely healthy fruit was chosen. The idea behind the project was to make exceptional wines at an affordable price, which at the hands of many winemakers would simply be marketing noise, but here I think it very much is not.

The glass shouts out very fresh Sauvignon Blanc at first, with fresh grapefruit on the nose. The palate comes in with greater depth, almost a surprise after the bouquet. There’s a creaminess and some beeswax. It’s that mix of freshness with a little weight which makes this more than an aperitif wine, but one allowing a degree of versatility with food. My own match would be white fish with a creamy but not heavy sauce, or maybe the garlic butter you get on haddock at a restaurant near me.

This bottle came from Cork & Cask (Edinburgh), who will ship UK-wide, and it cost £24. The importer is, as with Matthieu’s Cosse-Maisonneuve wines from Cahors, Dynamic Vines.