Nostros apparently means “ours” in Spanish, so the fact that these Chileans decided to name their wines thus is vaguely reminiscent of Alan Partridge‘s “mildly cretinous” Ukrainian girlfriend‘s suggestion – in the second series of that television program – that he names their new domicile “Our House”.
Still, it’s a good word to splatter inkily across the label, as you can see, and it could be interpreted by those who look for meaning in everything (but are unaware of the nuances of Spanish/Chilean etymology and/or wine branding) as some kind of statement of intent: this is OUR Pinot Noir – take it or leave it.
What’s it to be?
Well, there’s nothing wrong with it, as such, but for me it manages the delicacy but falls short of the elegance promised by the label blurb and indeed by its country’s reputation, and thus falls short of the standards set by the (considerable) competition from Chilean heavyweights, Cono Sur.
This wine is a beautiful colour – clear and ruby red as a Pinot Noir ought to be – but unless you’ve been encased in an empty, plastic room for a week you’re unlikely to really revel in the all-too subtle aromas it produces.
There’s not much more that can be said about the taste, either: it’s light and it’s full of red berry fruits, but its sweetness and lightness is all too little for me, and it fails to inspire any of the assembled company either: it tastes more like Ribena than I reckon any wine ought to.
Having said that, serving a Pinot Noir at a barbecue is sort of like bringing a knife to a gun fight, so I tried it with not-too-spicy, garden-grown chillies and soft cheeses too, to give it a fair chance, and admittedly it fared slightly better, but still failed to truly impress.
At £6.50 it’s not all that expensive for a Pinot Noir Reserva, but I’d rather save up for something more memorable.
Try it yourself and see what you think; available from FindWine.co.uk.
Photograph by Keith Small.

