Leaving Australia
Dinner at Wildfire in Sydney in the company of some venerable old and unbelieveably young Australians.
Dinner at Wildfire in Sydney in the company of some venerable old and unbelieveably young Australians. March 14th – Leaving Australia
We spent our last night in Australia in style – having dinner at a restaurant called Wildfire, which looks out over the water at the Sydney Opera House through huge, double story glass windows. We were there to taste the wines of Greenstone and Tony Jordan – CEO of Moёt & Chandon in Australia – had organised a game of options. Invented in Australia by Len Evens, this is a blind tasting game where questions are asked about each wine – is it Western or Southern Australia, Semillon or Chardonnay, 5 – 10 or 15 – 20 years old etc etc.
The Greenstone wines are made in Heathcote, Australia are the result of a partnership between Alberto Antonini (renowned Italian winemaker and consultant), Mark Walpole (viticulturist for Brown Brothers) and David Gleave (MD of Liberty Wines in the UK). Heathcote is seen as a very exciting new region by the trio, with its Mediterranean climate and red Cambrian soil – perfect for Shiraz. The problem is that wines from here are usually very alcoholic and the challenge for them was to achieve a style which was ripe but still had freshness.
They planted their 20 hectares of vineyard at very high density, with rows running east to west (instead of the traditional north/south) in order to give protection from the fiercest sun. Cover crops protect against erosion and, very excitingly, they have planted and will be releasing a straight Monastrell (Mouvedre in France) and Tempranillo in the coming years.
We tasted their 05 and 06 Shiraz, the first two vintages. Amazingly, these come from vines which are 2 years old – something unheard of in Europe. Firstly, it is against the law there but secondly, vines simply don’t establish themselves that quickly in a European climate.
We have twice on this trip tasted wines from very young vines and I remain on the whole unconvinced. There is something lacking – an intensity and complexity, no matter how skilful the winemaking.
That is not to say that the Greenstone Shiraz was without merit – it did have delicious, elegant freshness with pleasingly sweet – although not jammy fruit – and even some spice. On the whole though, there just was not quite enough there – certainly not enough there to justify a £14 – 15 retail price, which is what they would cost.
In another few years, I have no doubt that they will be fantastic wines, but I think I will wait until then.
Another unholy start on the last morning – we left the hotel at 6:30pm and drove through a Sydney which was just starting to wake up. This is a very beautiful city and one I really do want to visit again some time.
The options game was very interesting, as it always is, as Tony had very kindly pulled some wonderful old relics out of his cellar. A 1981 Michelton Riesling was still fresh as a daisy and although almost everyone got Australian Riesling – although not necessarily Victoria, few got even close to its real age.
1977 Tyrells Chardonnay, bottled under screw cap, was similarly fresh with leesy notes which I thought suggested Chablis – how wrong can you possibly be! I did not like the wine though – it was alive, but rather lacking in depth and complexity.
1993 Yerringberg Cabernet was also still holding up, but not brilliantly with again, a single note to it – not terribly exciting.
There were a few others, but I stopped taking notes after that point. I was not actually drinking much, but I had started to talk to Mark Walpole who I was sitting next to – a really lovely, gentle, modest man who obviously knows his vines – and stopped being so conscientious.
I am having to revise my earlier assumption that on the whole these wines don’t age. While I still believe that most don’t, it is obvious that many do. I don’t think it does anything to improve those that were fundamentally rather one dimensional in youth – they merely become one-dimensional with age – but in the best examples (the wines of Cullen for example), they rival the very best of aged French or Italian great wines.
On the whole though, I don’t think I would advise to look to Australia for long term ageing, the exceptions not withstanding – although a very good examples are often immeasurably improved with being putting away for the medium term.
This has been a wonderful trip. Unexpected things happened – I did have Eureka tasting moments with a few wines – and then the expected happened as well, but was no less interesting for having been anticipated. I was already aware that there is huge regional difference in Australia, experiencing it first hand has just crystallized it for me.
The potential here, if the water availability problems in some regions is sorted, is absolutely huge. I do believe amazingly strongly that a move towards more biodynamic/organic/sustainable methods is of huge importance with this. Not only because it means the industry is not responsible for fucking things up further, but also because the natural balance and fortitude a healthy plant has means it weathers the bad times so much better.
One of the most striking things about this trip was how amazingly young the industry still is. Many of the regions we visited barely existed 40 years ago – that is a drop in the ocean of time in wine making terms. We tasted a wine from 18month old vines, which is unthinkable in much of the world, but things move faster here.
If some of them are producing wines of the calibre I have seen at this age, just think of what we have to look forward to in the next 40 years.
The best wines, in my opinion, were very much those from the much smaller producers who were hugely careful about growing their grapes but then did not fiddle around too much in the winery. The fiddled with wines, at both ends of the scale, were unspeakable, but this is hardly an Australian phenomenon these days – it happens everywhere.
This is still very much an industry dominated by big players, all of whom may make a small handful of ‘boutique’ wines, but who, ultimately, are in the business of churning out great waves of heavily branded rubbish at a certain price point. They are in the volume business and any passion or feeling for wine has nothing to do with it.
There are however, more than enough of the small and medium sized people who are doing things to rival the very best in the world and I did find true love with a few of them.
I would like to come back here – both for the wines and the exotic beauty of the place. I might not feel an incredibly strong connection with the landscape here as happens with me in some places but there was more than enough to feel fondly about. The timeless, wide open feel of the coast around Albany, the bleached, dusty colours of Western Australia, the amazing blue gum forests, the Galahs, Koala’s (surely the creature in the world most likely to come top of a cute league) and kangaroos, the slow, Khaki Murray river and the lush, sub tropical green of parts of New South Wales. I will miss the cheery, polite helpfulness of the people as well – such a refreshing antidote to sullen, glum resentment which is often our lot in the UK.
I won’t miss the white bread though. How can a country that is so obsessed with the outdoors and where the air is a tonic and it is amazingly easy to exercise and eat fresh food, continually serve up white bread? And often not even very good white bread – that disgusting overly chewy/cement paste white roll or completely tasteless, textureless slices? I succumbed a few times from sheer starvation but I am now very seriously craving a piece of dense, heavy, textured wholemeal, preferably with all the bits left in.
Fingers crossed they have a better bread ethos in New Zealand.
We spent our last night in Australia in style – having dinner at a restaurant called Wildfire, which looks out over the water at the Sydney Opera House through huge, double story glass windows. We were there to taste the wines of Greenstone and Tony Jordan – CEO of Moёt & Chandon in Australia – had organised a game of options. Invented in Australia by Len Evens, this is a blind tasting game where questions are asked about each wine – is it Western or Southern Australia, Semillon or Chardonnay, 5 – 10 or 15 – 20 years old etc etc.
The Greenstone wines are made in Heathcote, Australia are the result of a partnership between Alberto Antonini (renowned Italian winemaker and consultant), Mark Walpole (viticulturist for Brown Brothers) and David Gleave (MD of Liberty Wines in the UK). Heathcote is seen as a very exciting new region by the trio, with its Mediterranean climate and red Cambrian soil – perfect for Shiraz. The problem is that wines from here are usually very alcoholic and the challenge for them was to achieve a style which was ripe but still had freshness.
They planted their 20 hectares of vineyard at very high density, with rows running east to west (instead of the traditional north/south) in order to give protection from the fiercest sun. Cover crops protect against erosion and, very excitingly, they have planted and will be releasing a straight Monastrell (Mouvedre in France) and Tempranillo in the coming years.
We tasted their 05 and 06 Shiraz, the first two vintages. Amazingly, these come from vines which are 2 years old – something unheard of in Europe. Firstly, it is against the law there but secondly, vines simply don’t establish themselves that quickly in a European climate.
We have twice on this trip tasted wines from very young vines and I remain on the whole unconvinced. There is something lacking – an intensity and complexity, no matter how skilful the winemaking.
That is not to say that the Greenstone Shiraz was without merit – it did have delicious, elegant freshness with pleasingly sweet – although not jammy fruit – and even some spice. On the whole though, there just was not quite enough there – certainly not enough there to justify a £14 – 15 retail price, which is what they would cost.
In another few years, I have no doubt that they will be fantastic wines, but I think I will wait until then.
Another unholy start on the last morning – we left the hotel at 6:30pm and drove through a Sydney which was just starting to wake up. This is a very beautiful city and one I really do want to visit again some time.
The options game was very interesting, as it always is, as Tony had very kindly pulled some wonderful old relics out of his cellar. A 1981 Michelton Riesling was still fresh as a daisy and although almost everyone got Australian Riesling – although not necessarily Victoria, few got even close to its real age.
1977 Tyrells Chardonnay, bottled under screw cap, was similarly fresh with leesy notes which I thought suggested Chablis – how wrong can you possibly be! I did not like the wine though – it was alive, but rather lacking in depth and complexity.
1993 Yerringberg Cabernet was also still holding up, but not brilliantly with again, a single note to it – not terribly exciting.
There were a few others, but I stopped taking notes after that point. I was not actually drinking much, but I had started to talk to Mark Walpole who I was sitting next to – a really lovely, gentle, modest man who obviously knows his vines – and stopped being so conscientious.
I am having to revise my earlier assumption that on the whole these wines don’t age. While I still believe that most don’t, it is obvious that many do. I don’t think it does anything to improve those that were fundamentally rather one dimensional in youth – they merely become one-dimensional with age – but in the best examples (the wines of Cullen for example), they rival the very best of aged French or Italian great wines.
On the whole though, I don’t think I would advise to look to Australia for long term ageing, the exceptions not withstanding – although a very good examples are often immeasurably improved with being putting away for the medium term.
This has been a wonderful trip. Unexpected things happened – I did have Eureka tasting moments with a few wines – and then the expected happened as well, but was no less interesting for having been anticipated. I was already aware that there is huge regional difference in Australia, experiencing it first hand has just crystallized it for me.
The potential here, if the water availability problems in some regions is sorted, is absolutely huge. I do believe amazingly strongly that a move towards more biodynamic/organic/sustainable methods is of huge importance with this. Not only because it means the industry is not responsible for fucking things up further, but also because the natural balance and fortitude a healthy plant has means it weathers the bad times so much better.
One of the most striking things about this trip was how amazingly young the industry still is. Many of the regions we visited barely existed 40 years ago – that is a drop in the ocean of time in wine making terms. We tasted a wine from 18month old vines, which is unthinkable in much of the world, but things move faster here.
If some of them are producing wines of the calibre I have seen at this age, just think of what we have to look forward to in the next 40 years.
The best wines, in my opinion, were very much those from the much smaller producers who were hugely careful about growing their grapes but then did not fiddle around too much in the winery. The fiddled with wines, at both ends of the scale, were unspeakable, but this is hardly an Australian phenomenon these days – it happens everywhere.
This is still very much an industry dominated by big players, all of whom may make a small handful of ‘boutique’ wines, but who, ultimately, are in the business of churning out great waves of heavily branded rubbish at a certain price point. They are in the volume business and any passion or feeling for wine has nothing to do with it.
There are however, more than enough of the small and medium sized people who are doing things to rival the very best in the world and I did find true love with a few of them.
I would like to come back here – both for the wines and the exotic beauty of the place. I might not feel an incredibly strong connection with the landscape here as happens with me in some places but there was more than enough to feel fondly about. The timeless, wide open feel of the coast around Albany, the bleached, dusty colours of Western Australia, the amazing blue gum forests, the Galahs, Koala’s (surely the creature in the world most likely to come top of a cute league) and kangaroos, the slow, Khaki Murray river and the lush, sub tropical green of parts of New South Wales. I will miss the cheery, polite helpfulness of the people as well – such a refreshing antidote to sullen, glum resentment which is often our lot in the UK.
I won’t miss the white bread though. How can a country that is so obsessed with the outdoors and where the air is a tonic and it is amazingly easy to exercise and eat fresh food, continually serve up white bread? And often not even very good white bread – that disgusting overly chewy/cement paste white roll or completely tasteless, textureless slices? I succumbed a few times from sheer starvation but I am now very seriously craving a piece of dense, heavy, textured wholemeal, preferably with all the bits left in.
Fingers crossed they have a better bread ethos in New Zealand.
