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2012 Antica Terra Angelicall

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2012 Antica Terra Angelicall

Single Bottle - Standard - 750ml

Regular Price: HK$685.00

Special Price HK$550.00


11 Bottles left, order now!


Tasting Notes:

Dark for a rosé, but smooth and elegant when served chilled, this expresses cherry and orange tea flavors, hinting at spice and fresh loamy earth as the finish lingers with delicacy. Drink now through 2018. 366 cases made.

Tasting Notes:

Maggie Harrison said that her rosé is the most experimental wine she makes. This was actually named the "Erratica," until somebody swiped their un-trademarked name. So, the rebaptized 2012 Angelicall is made at a pivotal point during fermentation when it reaches a level of clarity, upon which Maggie stops the ferment and fills a single barrel and undergoes full malo. So it is left 5-8 days on the skins. Without causing offense, it does not smell like a rose, but more like a very pretty young Beaune premier cru. The palate is medium-bodied with fine tannin, quite rich in texture with Morello cherry, hints of dried blood and a lovely piquant finish. Delicious. Such is its depth that I perceive this more as a "red" than a "rosé." Whatever's just wondrous. Never judge wine by the look of the winery. Pulling up outside Antica Terra, there is no sign indicating that this austere, drab warehouse in downtown Dundee is de facto home to some of Oregon’s finest, most thoughtfully and meticulously produced wines. Winemaker Maggie Harrison’s rise from assisting Manfred and Elaine Krankl at Sine Qua Non in California, to Antica Terra in Oregon, has been well documented by my predecessor. It is clear that Manfred’s philosophy permeates her own vision toward winemaking, and vision here is the most appropriate word, even if stylistically the wines are not contiguous from Manfred's. Maggie’s personality is tangible from afar. You sense the energy before seeing the person: petite with a mass of corkscrew black hair and large 1980s spectacles that confer an air of erudition that is realized as soon as you embark in conversation. During our exchange she came across as a person who contemplates not just wine, but its central place within life. Ergo our ping-pong conversation had a tendency to spin off tangentially and revert to wine with unerring frequency. Not wishing to sound banal, but my immediate impression of Maggie’s wines were that they were “interesting,” insofar that these are not wines you simply want to drink, but wines that halt you in your tracks and subliminally say: “Hold on a minute. Think about me. Then knock me back and enjoy.” There is an intellectual dimension to Antica Terra’s fermented grape juice allied with a meticulous approach that I suspect is uncommon not only in Oregon, but anywhere. I asked her how the two vintages differed in terms of her own perspective… “In 2011, there was a moment earlier in the year where it felt you were not going to get your fruit ripe,” Maggie explained. “So much was uncertain, so there was a huge amount of risk in taking decisions earlier. We dropped fruit before flowering so there is a large risk - but you get the biggest impact. Even having dropped the fruit, you did not know whether you would get there. If you told me I would get these Pinot Noir or Chardonnay I would have stopped crying. In 2012, it was the first time when there was a lot of conversation about alcohol and so forth, but I did not want to force it into something that it didn't want to be. You had to be unafraid what the vintage gave you and lavish attention on it and that was super-exciting." Tasting through Antica Terra’s current releases, one has to approach each on their own merit because there no leitmotif runs through her range, save for attention to detail and complexity. For want of a better phrase, these wines have something to say, whether it is the transparency of the “Botanica," the intensity of the “Antikythera,” or the precision of the “Aurata." Yes, there is terroir expressed in these wines, yet there is strong guidance in the winery, a kind hand ushering them toward their personalities in the glass like a child being guided gently into the correct classroom on their first day at school. For example, the rosé, under the name “Angelicall” is inspired by the Pinot Noirs of Northern Italy, fermented on the skins for a week until there comes a day when the bouquet seems to explode, at which point the juice is drawn and transferred into barrel. It’s a wine that crosses genres and you spend time deliberating upon whether you are drinking red or rosé. I’ve encountered very few wines cut from a similar cloth and it was quite bewitching. Overall, these wines might not come cheap, but you often get what you pay for. Apart from the eye-catching labels, the wines inside are strongly recommended. Even so, you have the feeling the Antica Terra has only finished its first chapter. I look forward to reading the rest of the book.

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The one that changed everything, occurred in the midst of a nervous breakdown, after a bout with malaria, on an island off the coast of Kenya. In this moment, facing her traveling companion's request to “put down her beer and get serious,” doubting her ability to return to Chicago and begin her career in conflict resolution, Maggie Harrison decided to become a winemaker. This simple decision, incredible luck, and her own tenacity sent her to Ventura County where she landed, without any experience, the holy grail of winemaking apprenticeships. Maggie worked for nine wonderful and life changing vintages under the tutelage of Elaine and Manfred Krankl at the iconic winery Sine Qua Non. In 2004, at Manfred’s urging, she started her own Syrah project called Lillian. At this point she could see the rest of her life unfolding clearly before her. She and her husband Michael would settle down in Santa Barbara and raise a family. She would tend to the barrels at Sine Qua Non and make tiny amounts of her own exquisite Syrah on the side. But her well-laid plans were not to be. This all changed in 2005, when Scott Adelson, John Mavredakis and Michael Kramer, three friends on a search for land, visited Antica Terra. Over the years, they had collaborated on countless projects but had always dreamed of starting a vineyard together. This was not the first time they had visited a piece of land with this dream in mind, but something was different this time. It’s hard to say if it was the subtle breeze from the ocean, the majestic stands of oak, or the fossilized oysters hiding among the boulders, but they knew immediately that this was the property they had been looking for. When Scott, John and Michael asked her to become the winemaker at Antica Terra, she emphatically refused. But the three friends were clever. They asked Maggie if she would simply take a look at the vineyard and offer her opinion about the qualities of the site. She reluctantly agreed. Twenty-six seconds after arriving among the oaks, fossils, and stunted vines, she found herself hunched beneath one of the trees, phone in hand, explaining to her husband that they would be moving to Oregon.