The 2021 Astralis Syrah leads with a distinctly charry, black nose. The black and purple fruit that resides within the core of this wine is really hunkered down within the trenches of the wine, beneath the tannins and oak (which has a distinct biscuit character to it in these 2021s). It's an interesting outcome of a cooler vintage, and the wine feels as though it has been injected with squid ink. The density, darkness and depth of the Astralis has been accentuated in this vintage rather than what I expected, which was a lighter, finer and more spacious expression of cool-year fruit. If anything, this is compressed, coiled and tightly woven. Fascinating. As it opens up in the glass, it is obvious that the fruit will emerge victorious, but it will require time and patience. This is a big, brooding, firm, tannic wine, currently. 14.5% alcohol, sealed under Diam.

It's hard to know what more one could ask from this wine. The fruit in the 2020 Astralis Syrah shows rippling prowess—albeit a little frisky at this early stage in its life—polish and intensity that reverberates in the mouth. It has energy and thunderous poise; the tannins, fruit and acid are all completely in balance. Immune to hyperbole. This is not the big wine that everyone thinks this is. The rollout of flavor in the mouth is measured; initial, mid-palate and resonating through the long finish. It is exotic, spicy and magic. Really, really delicious. 2020 yielded half the volume of vintages 2021 and 2022 (which were virtually on par with each other).

If you could drink this 2018 Astralis Syrah all day, by god you would. I mean, I would. The oak feels imperceptible, which I discover is adapted depending on the concentration of the year. This 2018 was matured in 40% new oak, and you wouldn’t know it. The tannins are chewy and pliable, and the fruit that resides within it is striking. A wine of poise. Clarity. Delicacy.

The 2017 Astralis Syrah is a very fine wine. It is not a big wine. Perhaps its reputation for being a big, extracted wine is a misnomer these days. It has intention and drive and clarity and length—and the length of flavor is so long that it allows reassessment over and over again. It has cassis and blackberry, raspberry pip and salted licorice. It is perfumed and balanced, and it takes time to develop. Unctuous. Satisfying. Supple. Attractive. Beautiful. Eminently balanced. A beauty.

The inky, tannic 2016 Astralis Syrah will no doubt need some time before it reaches its apogee. Right now, it only hints at that potential. Appetizing scents of roasted meat and cinnamon toast meet red raspberries and black cherries on the nose, while the medium to full-bodied palate is densely concentrated and richly textured but closed, locked up by firm, dusty tannins that bar the lengthy finish from expanding and being truly expressive. I'm tempted to say buyers should check in on the wine in five years, but that may not be enough time. If you absolutely must check it out now, taste it repeatedly over the course of a full evening to catch glimpses of espresso, black olives and delicate herbal nuances.