It wasn’t until l I was told the proper use for this wine that I really go it. You could call it a dessert wine, but really it’s a post siesta pick me up. So rather than having a quick cafe solo (a short black espresso) before getting on with your day, sit back and relax with a glass of this to ease yourself back into the world. A hit of sugar to perk you up and a little alcohol to get you into the right frame of mind….perfect. I gave the theory a test run late on Christmas day: works like a charm.
The nose sparks a fair bit of interest: loads of tree fruits such as quince, pear, a touch of apple and apricot. As far as I know there is no botrytis used in making this wine, I think the fruit is dried for a little bit on straw mats before pressing though. Very well balanced in the mouth, plenty of sugar and flavour that’s balanced out by the acid. Not sticky cloying at all, it’s super fresh, zippy and zingy. More of the same flavours on the palate, with a bit of honey. A long finish that shows up some rocky minerals. I could see a bottle of this becoming something of a tradition on Christmas day …90 Pts.
Source: The Spanish Acquisition Price: $45 (500ml) Closure: Conventional Cork
There is a beautiful story behind this wine, told by Hugh Johnson and others.
The Duke of Wellington was given estates in Spain and Portugal following the conclusion of the war against the French. One of these, up in the mountains, was called Molino del Rey. The Duke sent a winegrower from Bordeaux over to advise, and for years during the 1830s barrels of Mountain wine were sent to England.
Some of these bottles of 1830s wine were purchased by High Johnson when Christie’s auctioned off some of the property of the Duke. Hugh opened the first, and last, bottles of the lot with Len Evans. They both agreed that these old bottles, with the flavour of “fresh oranges in a bath of warm cream” was the top wine of their lives.
Telmo Rodriguez hears the story of Hugh and Len’s experience with Molino del Rey, a wine that no longer was made. He decided to see if it could possibly be revived. He
“found a vineyard of ancient Moscatel vines in the hills above Malaga. He questioned the old people about their memories. Did they know how the wine was made in their grandparents’ time? The grapes were picked when they were perfect, he was told, and laid out in the vineyard to dry in the sun. They were pressed in the olive-press, the only press they had, and left to ferment in small barrels until they stopped. Rodriguez set the wheels in motion again. He used new barrels. The fermentation (with the glorious smell of hothouse grapes) stopped at 12 degrees, he told me, leaving as much sugar in the wine as Chateau d’Yquem.
When I first tasted what he calls Molino Real, it was like seeing a ghost. It was the ancient Mountain reborn. The unique flavour of a wine I had found perfect had been lying in the soil for nearly two hundred years, waiting for a curious vintner to give it life again.”
This is the story Hugh Johnson tells to end his biography, Wine: A Life Uncorked.
Thanks for that PS, it is a great story (Hugh’s book is a good ‘on a plane’ read as well).
However this is the entry level wine, I was saving this story for the big daddy
I didn’t realise you had both wines
It would be interesting to try some of the top Spanish sweet wines along side Rutherglen tokay and muscat, I think.