Finding genuinely interesting Australian Sangiovese is tough work. Sure, we have a proliferation of dry reds masquerading as Sangiovese, but very few wines get the fruit/tannin balance right, and even fewer manage to achieve that savouriness of good Tuscan Sangiovese.Of course that situation is changing, particularly with the proliferation of better clones (more Brunello clone) maturing vines and better oak/extraction regimes. Still, it is a slow process.

All of which makes this wine exciting. Fittingly, Coriole have some of the oldest Sangiovese plantings in Australia (dating back to 1985) and have been putting considerable effort into refining the Sangiovese (in particular) over recent years, so it’s probably of little surprise that it would be here that we’d start to see encouraging signs.

The appeal here methinks is just how varietal it is – sure, Jefford may decry varietal correctness as some sort of global homogeneity to be avoided but there is an unquestioned joy to be had when you smell a Sangiovese that actually smells like Sangiovese grapes. And this smells like Sangiovese grapes.

From the outset there is that famous ‘forest berries’ aroma telltale along with olive tapenade and a hint of roast lamb. The palate too is dry and, wonderfully, driven by gritty, sandpaper tannins that start at the front of your mouth like proper Brunello tannins. Sure, the slightly broad mid-palate and highish alcohol brings you back to earth again, but gee everything else about this is dry, savoury and very serious.

A triumph of a wine, at a ridiculous price. Sure the score isn’t sky-high, but in context this is an absolute winner.

Drink: 2013-2020
Score: 18/20, 93/100
Would I buy it? Yes. On a restaurant list I’d buy this for sure (though I’d want a year or two on it)