Wine Grapes: A complete guide to 1,368 vine varieties, including their origins and flavours
Jancis Robinson, Julia Harding and Jose Vouillamoz
(Allen Lane, an imprint of Penguin Books, October 2012, $199)

Page 1023 of Wine grapes brought me to a shuddering halt. Not that I’d read the preceding 1022 pages, instead skimming through Jancis Robinson’s preface then diving in for the low down on ‘syrah’ (shiraz).

It seems Australia’s national red hero isn’t what we all thought. Robinson, Harding and Vouillamoz conclude, “Pinot is a very likely great-grandparent of syrah, which challenges the supposition that they have completely different origins”.

DNA parentage analysis by French and American scientists in 1998 established shiraz as the love child of mondeuse blanche (the mother, from Savoie) and dureza (the father, from Ardeche).

This fortuitous and altogether spontaneous mating could have occurred only had the two shared the same viticultural bed. And in 2008 researchers Meredith and Boursiquot concluded the most likely place to find the two cultivated together would have been in the French Rhone-Alpes region, probably in the Isere.

But where and how does pinot noir come into the shiraz family tree? Something called probabilistic DNA analysis by Vouillamoz and Grando in 2006, established dureza, shiraz’s father, as “a sibling of teroldego”, a variety from Trentino in northern Italy. “This was the first evidence of a close genetic link between two varieties on different sides of the Alps”, writes Robinson.

And it continues, “Since syrah is a progeny of dureza, it is therefore a nephew/niece of teroldego. Vouillamoz and Grando have also detected a second-degree genetic relationship between pinot and both dureza and teroldego, which means that pinot could be their grandparent, grandchild, uncle/aunt, nephew/niece or half-sibling. Since pinot was already known in France and in the Tyrol in the fourteenth century, its cultivation predates that of both dureza and teroldego and it is logical to consider pinot as their ancestor, either their grandparent or their uncle/aunt. Therefore, pinot is very likely great-grandparent of Syrah”.

The shock revelation of shiraz’s lineage dragged me back to Robinson’s preface, where she’d warned of surprises ahead. I have on my bookshelf well-thumbed copies of her Vines, Grapes and Wines (1986) and the first and last of three editions of The Oxford Companion to Wine – the latter containing updates of her previous work on grape varieties.

But Robinson advises us to discard this previously authoritative work, “as this book is so much more up to date and comprehensive than either of my previous works on the subject”.

The book’s many revelations (like the pinot-shiraz relationship) rely on DNA profiling, recently developed probabilistic analysis (capable of finding more distant relationships even in the absence of known parents), and cross-referencing with historical cultivation records.

Robinson says Australian scientists established the first grape DNA profile in 1993. Four years later Californian scientists revealed Bordeaux’s noble red variety, cabernet sauvignon, as a likely natural crossing of cabernet franc and the white variety sauvignon blanc. Knowledge has grown exponentially since then.

Robinson claims the near-1300 page book “provides readers with virtually every DNA result published before 31 August 2011 as well as with dozens of unpublished results and fourteen pedigree diagrams exclusive to us that reveal many new, sometimes unexpected, familial relationships”.

Despite the depth of recent discoveries, many of the boxes in the pedigree diagrams contain question marks representing unknown family members. Perhaps these identities will be discovered in coming decades.

In the case of shiraz, for example, we know one of its great-grandparents (pinot) but not pinot’s mate. Nor do we know shiraz’s grandparents. Other diagrams in the syrah family tree offer several possible options for its genetic relationship with the white variety, viognier.

Robinson estimates the number of vine varieties in the world at 10,000, members of about six species. However, the book limits itself to 1,368 of them. That seems an extraordinary number, despite the steadily growing range of varietal names appearing on wine bottles. But Robinson says this is the number of varieties they know to be producing commercial quantities of wine.

The book offers beautiful colour plates of many vine varieties, depicting leaf, stem and grape bunches.

For each variety the authors detail berry colour, principal synonyms, varieties commonly mistaken for it, origins and parentage, viticultural characteristics, where it’s grown and what it tastes like.

Under ‘Syrah’, for example, we learn France claims the number one position with 68,587 hectares in the ground in 2009. Australia claims second place with 43,977 hectares in 2008.

The introduction covers a broad, easily read introduction to the grape vine, including grape varieties, the vine family, a description of mutations and clones, the basics of vine breeding (natural and human-controlled), rootstocks, grafting and DNA profiling.

The books also lists varieties by country of origin, where and under what conditions different varieties grow. There’s a comprehensive index. And if 1300 pages aren’t enough, the 20-page bibliography points to more bedside reading.

Wine Grapes is a towering and original work, a reference book for the world’s wine industry. And for wine drinkers it reveals so much about the vines that give us such drinking pleasure.

Copyright © Chris Shanahan 2013
First published 20 March 2013 in The Canberra Times and goodfood.com.au

The history of Australian wine: Stories from the vineyard to the cellar door
Max Allen, Victory Books 2012, $49.99

Canberra readers might wonder at first, as I did, why Max Allen’s new book excises us, and surrounding wine regions, from Australian wine history. Local industry founders, Edgar Riek and John Kirk don’t rate a mention. Nor do Tim Kirk and Clonakilla’s world-famous shiraz viognier – arguably Australia’s most influential new-age shiraz. Even the ubiquitous Ken Helm, father of Canberra riesling, misses out. And readers in Young will note the omission of Peter Robertson, founder of Barwang Vineyards and, with it, the Hilltops wine region.

But flip from the index to Allen’s introduction, and we quickly learn the book is best summed up in its subtitle, Stories from the vineyard to the cellar door. It’s not a history at all, in the E. H. Carr sense, but a clever and entertaining compilation of personal stories and opinions.

Allen writes, “Based on a series of interviews conducted across a wide range of industry figures – from winemakers to cellar hands, from business leaders to grape growers – it’s neither an official history nor a definitive history: it’s an oral history, full of first-hand accounts of what happened and when and why, and personal opinions on how Australian wine got to where it is today”.

Those oral histories reside in the State Records of South Australia. They were commissioned by the Wolf Blass Foundation and recorded, transcribed and compiled by Adelaide historian Robb Linn. “Rob harvested the stories, fermented them and carefully bottled them up. I have merely decanted them onto the page”, writes Allen. And he does, images included, over 212 pleasure-to-swallow pages, including the index.

But the available material sets the scope of the book, accounting for the gaps mentioned in the opening paragraph – and the limitations of seeing wine history largely through the eyes of producers.

That’s what the book’s about, of course. But as an old retailer and marketer, I’d love to see more on the dynamic interaction between producers and sellers of wine. For example, Chapter 8 Boom and bust: The business of Australian wine details acquisitions and mergers among producers, but doesn’t refer to consolidation at the retail end that spurred some of this producer activity.

In an earlier chapter, Allen mentions perhaps the most far-reaching legislative change in Australia’s retailing history – Gough Whitlam’s Trade Practices Act. The Act ended retail price maintenance, precipitating massive changes in the distribution chain, particularly in retailing.

Some wine producers resented the abrupt end of what was in effect a gentlemen’s price-fixing racket and resisted the change, futilely, for some years.  It’s unfortunate that the book’s sole producer perspective on the Trade Practices Act, comes from Hardys – at the time one of the most conservative companies and, in my memory, one of the slowest and least effective in dealing with the change.

Hardys’ Ray Drew, says the book, links the discounting unleashed by the Act “to the extreme consolidation and virtual duopoly of today’s wine retail market”. Does he mean the industry should’ve stuck to price fixing? I think we need to look elsewhere to understand how Coles and Woolworths amassed their estimated 80 per cent of Australia’s wine market.

The Trade Practices Act created opportunities for retailers and for almost twenty years after the Act’s passing independent retailers collectively controlled the fine wine market. They couldn’t have done this without the protection and freedom afforded by the Act.

It’s true that some of these operators relied almost solely on discounting to drive trade. But some, like Dan Murphys and Nicks in Melbourne, Farmer Bros in Canberra and the Wine Society in Sydney, actively sought the best wines from Australia and overseas and educated their customers through press ads, newsletters, tastings and dinners. Thus the Trade Practice Act not only lowered prices, but allowed entrepreneurial retailers to fan demand for wine.

The Act also released wine producers from the grip of hoteliers and opened the new trading opportunities essential for a production orientated industry producing more than it could readily sell.

But in Queensland, restricted licensing laws gave hotels a virtual monopoly on liquor sales, wine included. However, the conservatism of the hotels, proved to be their own undoing. Their limited wine selections, combined with comparatively high pricing, opened a tremendous opportunity for mail-order wine sellers in the southern states. They soon counted Brisbane and the state’s more affluent provincial centres among their best customers.

By the mid nineties, accelerated by the recession we had to have and interrelated consolidation on both the production and distribution side, independent retailers began to lose their grip on the fine market. Coles moved first, launching its Vintage Cellars chain in 1994 and aggressively acquiring independent outlets to trade under the banner. A few years later Woolworths acquired Dan Murphys. A decade later it had become the dominant force in Australian wine retailing.

Of course none of this happened without intense interaction between the retailers and the producers who tell their stories in Max Allen’s book. Allen takes a unique resource – Rob Linn’s oral histories – and combines it with his own knowledge to give a colourful sketch of Australian wine and the personalities behind it. It’s a valuable contribution to our wine literature. And it whets my appetite both for the missing winemaker stories and the bigger picture of wine commerce.

Copyright © Chris Shanahan 2012
First published 1 August 2012 in The Canberra Times

Great, grand and famous Champagnes
Jane Powell, Fritz Gubler and Dannielle Viera
Arbon Publishing, Sydney, 2011
$79.99

“We can’t all be like Marilyn Monroe and fill our bathtubs with 150 bottle bottles of Champagne”, declares the accompanying press release. But neither the press release, nor Great, grand and famous Champagnes, reveal the sequel to this intriguing romance: did the winemakers really fill 151 bottles from Miss Monroe’s tub? We’ll never know.

The Monroe story sets the tone for a colourful, if uncritical, portrayal of the romance, glamour, mystique, history, hard-nosed commerce and science underpinning the wine world’s greatest luxury brand. If, like me, you rate the best Champagnes among the world’s greatest wines – and feel that even Gruen Planet couldn’t improve the marketing proposition – then the book’s as easy to swallow as its topic.

The third in Fritz Gubler’s series of ‘great, grand and famous’ books (after hotels and chefs), Champagne appears, like its topic, to be a clever, even sparkling, blend (or assemblage) of information from a wide range of sources.

After being drawn by the press release to the Marilyn Monroe snippet (page 168), we return to the cover. Here, Scott Cameron’s evocative close up of a crystal flute – teeming with the famous, tiny bubbles – reinforces brand Champagne and prepares us for the richly illustrated 240 pages that follow.

We all look at the pictures first. And in Great, grand and famous Champagnes, it’s eye candy from cover to cover – starting with Champagne sipping Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman (Casablanca, 1942) and finishing with a couple of art nouveau postcards of women drinking Champagne (circa 1900).

Every spread in between illustrates Champagne across the ages, capturing its history, commerce, followers and strong brand marketing. The latter includes several reproductions of unique art deco posters, including a classic for Champagne Joseph Perrier, created by Jean d’Ylen in about 1920.

The early part of the book, tracing Champagne’s intimate connections with French royalty and power brokers, portrays some of its great patrons, including luxuriously robed Pope Urban II, the Sun King, Louis XIV, and his mistress Madame de Pompadour.

In the book Jane Powell writes that de Pompadour, “had strong family links to the Champagne region and already understood the difference between sparkling and ordinary champagne. She loved Moet’s wine and soon became one of his most valuable customers, ensuring that Moet’s champagne was served at every important function at Versailles”.

A full-page image of Champagne’s famous wine priest, Dom Pierre Perignon (1638–1715), from a relief at Hautvilliers Abbey, depicts the cellarmaster holding a bottle of the then new-fangled sparkling wine.

Other famous Champagne tipplers portrayed in the book include Sir Winston Churchill (with Odette Pol Roger), Salvador Dali, Robert Redfern with Mia Farrow, Elizabeth Taylor with Montgomery Clift, Sean Connery, and Ingrid Bergman with Cary Grant.

Numerous vineyard and cellar photos give a feeling for Champagne’s landscape and production techniques. But I wonder why we still see shots of blokes hand-riddling bottles in wooden racks. Surely we’re grown up enough to see the less romantic gyro pallets that took over from hand-riddling thirty years ago (the book actually describes the modern technique).

The book lists three authors – Jane Powell, Fritz Gubler and Dannielle Viera. Gubler appears to be the driving force behind the book, pulling together its many components. Powell wrote much of the content, including the early chapters on Champagne’s history and commercial success. And Viera contributed to profiles on various Champagne houses and personalities.

Powell begins her chapter, “Growing the market”, with this quote from British writer, Nicholas Faith, “Champagne is a luxury brand made and sold by a hard-headed, hard-working, rather cold-blooded bunch of people, fully aware that no one needs to drink Champagne”.

Powell summarises the long winemaking history of Champagne, the region’s at-first tentative move away from table wine production to sparkling wines, the emergence of the first great Champagne houses in the early eighteenth century, their consolidation and growth in the nineteenth century and the emergence of dry Champagne in the late nineteenth century.

She covers the at-times bitter tensions between growers and Champagne houses early in the twentieth century, culminating in the statute of champagne in 1927 and the formation of a central body (the Comite Interprofessionel du vin de Champagne) representing the interests of the industry and regional as a whole.

The region now produces over 300 million bottles of Champagne annually and vigorously defends its brand at all levels – from the ground breaking Perelada case that stopped “Spanish Champagne” in its tracks fifty years ago, to the more recent action by Veuve Clicquot to stop tiny Tasmanian producer Stefano Lubiana using an orange label. This is the hard-nosed phenomenon Nicholas Faith referred to.

The book also has a terrific section on Champagne’s famous women, including Louise Pommery, Nicole-Barbe Ponsardin Clicquot and Lily Bollinger.

It’s a good introduction to Champagne, blended from many sources, including the classic Champagne: The wine, the land the people, Patrick Forbes, 1967 and Christie’s world encyclopedia of Champagne and sparkling wine, Tom Stevenson, 2003.

Copyright © Chris Shanahan 2011
First published 23 November 2011 in The Canberra Times

Wine, Terroir and Climate Change
John Gladstones, Wakefield Press, Adelaide, 2011
$59.95

John Gladstones wrote this mesmerising book for the world’s grape growers and winemakers. But it’ll appeal to a wider audience – including those interested in the concept of wine and “terroir”, or readers looking for a concise but painstaking discussion on natural and human-induced climate change.

Gladstones outlines the ambitious scope of the book at the outset. He writes, “This book tackles two contentious subjects that underlie the future of viticulture. Terroir is much spoken of, but nobody, to the best of my knowledge, has attempted a comprehensive definition and integration of its elements in the light of modern science. To do so is an ambitious task, given the many remaining gaps in knowledge. Some of my conclusions may prove to be wrong. But I trust at least that they will help lead to a fuller understanding.

“Climate change, which makes up much of the book’s latter half, must obviously influence all planning for future viticulture. But in approaching the subject it became evident that neither public understanding nor the ‘official’ position of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change was necessarily accurate. Much in the argument for global warming by anthropogenic (man-caused) greenhouse gases appeared questionable. I therefore undertook as deep a study of the basic scientific evidence as I was able. The result was disturbing, though more as to the science underlying the global warming thesis than to the future of viticulture”.

The book, like Gladstones earlier Viticulture and Environment (1992), places temperature at the centre of grape growing. He sets out the reasons for this in chapter two of the new book, titled Temperature: The Driving Force. The theme weaves through the book and crystallises into practical advice for grape growers in maturity rankings of grape varieties, viticultural climate tables and reference climate tables.

For the general reader, as opposed to vignerons and grape growers, Gladstones’ methodical dissection of “terroir” is wonderfully enlightening.

The French word, for which there is no English equivalent, has become part of the mainstream wine vocabulary and stands for the environmental forces behind a wine’s individuality. The idea is central to France’s appellation system – based on distinctive regional wines, and drills down even to individual vineyard sites.

Gladstones defines “terroir” as “the vine’s whole natural environment, the combination of climate, topography, geology and soil that bears on its growth and the characteristics of its grapes and wines”. And he links these forces to the practicality of the market, writing, “The important thing is that a wine’s defined origin conveys a meaningful message to buyers and consumers, mostly as to its style though not necessarily as to its quality”.

We then read compellingly through the elements of terroir: temperature, broken into sections on vine phenology (physiological development), diurnal temperature range, day length, growing season temperature summations, individual sites, growth and fruiting, ripening temperatures, temperature variability and within-season variability.

A controversial conclusion from this section is that the best wines come from regions with the “lowest diurnal temperature range” – seemingly at odds with the notion of great wines coming from continental climates like Canberra’s. Clonakilla’s Tim Kirk quipped to me, “I haven’t forgiven him for what he said about Canberra [in his 1992 book]”.

Gladstones then discusses light intensity and exposure, rainfall, atmospheric humidity, wind and ripening period ideals for wine styles. Next under his gaze come geography, topography and soil, broken into several sections: latitude, altitude, topography, air drainage and frosts, aspect and slope, soil and above ground microclimate, proximity to water bodies – concluding with the common threads running through known best viticultural sites.

After this, Gladstones moves underground, examining soil water relations, soil and root temperatures, development of the vine root system, the root system and fruit ripening and an hypotheses (and objections to it) on hormone-driven root control of ripening.

The next two chapters study vine balances and management (soil-atmosphere water balance, vines and root maturity, vine size and crop load and irrigation strategies) and vine nutrition (nitrogen, potassium and other nutrient elements).

Finally, he arrives at geology and soil types, two of the most mentioned but perhaps most problematic aspects of “terroir”. He presents the challenge: “associations between wine characteristics and soil type alone, and likewise to some extent geology, have nevertheless proved elusive when studied objectively”.

After looking at soils and geology in literature, soil structure and drainage, soil thermal properties, soil types and vine nutrition and relationships to geology, Gladstones concludes that there probably is a geological flavour element to “terroir” – most plausibly from deep roots of mature vines tapping elements close to bedrock.

A chapter on organic and biodynamic viticulture charts the many advantages of organic management and concludes that it probably aids the expression of “terroir”. However, biodynamics appears to add no advantage and, writes Gladstones “at worst, they represent an unhealthy retreat into irrationality and mysticism… they have no place in an enlightened 21st century”.

Unquestionably Gladstones’ conclusions on climate change are the most controversial element of the book. The section, however, is a magnificent read for its broad sweep across a complex topic. It’s written concisely, logically and expansively and is accessible to non-scientists like me. It’s richly referenced for further exploration of the issues.

Gladstone discusses pre-industrial climates, the evidence of sea levels and early history, including viticultural records, natural causes of climate change, including earth-sun geometry, volcanic activity, solar irradiance and magnetic field, and modelling pre-industrial temperatures.

He then examines anthropogenic causes of climate change, including carbon dioxide and water vapour, aerosols and other pollutants, and land uses and effects. Next he examines modelled temperature feedbacks, principally ice and snow cover and clouds.

After a detailed study of the attribution of causes, including and examination of data sources, statistical methods and climate modelling, he concludes that “warming by anthropogenic greenhouse gases has been much over-estimated”, and “The 20th century’s true warming, as recorded in sea surface temperatures, is at least largely accounted for by natural climate fluctuations, for which the most credible cause on decadal to centennial timescales is fluctuation in solar output and magnetic field”.

He also concludes that we’re likely to be now dipping into a natural cooling period to about mid century. He anticipates this will likely offset admitted human-induced warming in that period.

Gladstones’ controversial conclusions underline the inherent uncertainty in predictions of any kind. His calculations put human-induced warming at much less alarming levels than those driving public policy. He could be right. But then, he could be wrong, too. Nobody knows with certainty.

Gladstones’ views on climate change lead to his conclusions that the world’s great wine “terroirs” will ride out any changes. He also concludes “rising atmospheric CO2 concentration will itself probably increase the optimum minimum and mean temperatures for vines”, and that “Sustainable production methods and improving quality and reliability across both market segments will help further establish wine as a world beverage of preference and moderation. The 21st century stands to become wine’s golden age”.

Copyright © Chris Shanahan 2011

Riesling in Australia – the history, the regions, the legends, and the producers
Ken Helm and Trish Burgess. Published by Winetitles, South Australia, 2010. $49.50 plus postage at Winetitles.

Spike Milligan might have called “Riesling in Australia” a book of bits, or a bit of a book. Written by Ken Helm and Trish Burgess, the 144-page book – subtitled “The history, the regions, the legends, and the producers” – is largely a series of vignettes about riesling, told by third parties.

Over a period of three years Helm and Burgess pulled together material on a wide spectrum of riesling topics, in varying levels of detail. The first five chapters cover the grape’s origins and Australian history, its performance in a number of Australian regions, how it’s grown, the science behind its flavour and consumer and media perceptions of it.

Chapter six, the longest in the book, sketches twenty “Legends of Australian riesling”, including Helm, and their reminiscences, recollections and reflections.

The book concludes with a description of riesling events around the word, a table of Australian riesling producers by state and region and colour reproductions of Wine Australia’s regional maps.

The structure makes it, perhaps, more of an interesting reference book than a cover-to-cover read. It seems pitched at the riesling faithful rather than potential converts, something the variety sorely needs.

While riesling true believers and the trade might be the main audience targeted by Helm and Burgess, its appeal might have been widened with the addition of a little more narrative connecting the interesting material.

For example, one of the books many photographs, labels, memorabilia and period advertisements is a double-page advertisement, from way back in 1979, spruiking the virtues of Stelvin screw caps.

Now, if you’re not seeped in wine lore you won’t know the pithiness of this ad. There’s no caption or explanation helping readers connect the dots. Later in the book riesling legend John Vickery describes the acceptance of screw caps as “the most significant event in the improvement in quality of Australian rieslings”.

Screw cap’s success in Australia dates from the 1998 vintage of Vickery’s Richmond Grove Watervale and Barossa Rieslings, followed in 2000 by a group of Clare Valley Riesling makers. So how does this connect to an ad appearing in “Family Circle” in 1979?

The old ad marks the industry’s early push to replace cork with screw cap for quality reasons. Consumers didn’t buy the story at the time, and the effort failed.

But the screw-cap-sealed Pewsey Vale rieslings of that era matured beautifully, providing the impetus – and confidence – winemakers needed to try again, successfully, twenty years later.

Riesling has been all the better for it ever since. The story deserves a chapter of its own. And perhaps because the book speaks to the converted it glosses over the variety’s lack of commercial success in Australia.

A chapter on riesling viticulture, by Louisa Rose, Chief Winemaker for the Yalumba Wine Company, laments riesling’s perennially niche status. It sat doggedly at around two per cent of the national crush from 2005 to 2009, writes Rose. Adelaide Hills winemaker, Stephen George, states the position more starkly and personally. Why does he put so much time and effort into riesling when he wonders each year if he’ll be able to sell it?

That the challenge facing riesling is one of perception and consumer acceptance, not quality, is acknowledged in the book. But, like the screwcap story, it’s a theme that might have been elaborated, and used to convert the doubters.

This failure to elaborate on major themes is part of a general lack of narrative connecting the various sections of the book. But these are minor quibbles when we look at the depth and range of material assembled by Helm and Burgess. They acknowledge it as a reference work and a “guide on winery trips”, targeted at students of oenology, viticulture, winemakers and wine consumers – probably in that order.

For the general reader with an interest in wine, the most interesting section may well be the vignettes of leading riesling makers, published in alphabetical order.
Sifting through these, much of the story of modern Australian riesling emerges. Again, from the perspective of those not seeped in wine lore, this may seem fair and reasonable. But the section begs some narrative perspective. The makers contributed different things at different times.

How much more exciting might this section have been with an overview from the authors – explaining the significance of the early work done by Colin Gramp and Guenter Prass at Orlando and the extraordinary rieslings made by John Vickery at Leo Burings from the 1960s. These inspired the next generation of winemakers; and a tasting of Vickery’s old rieslings in 1997 led directly to the modern adoption of screw caps in 1998.

For committed riesling drinkers, makers and grape growers, Louisa Rose’s chapter on viticulture and Dr Leigh Francis’s chapter on riesling flavour are highlights.

Hopefully the book will spark lots of commentary and create new interest in riesling. Helm in particular has been a tireless promoter of the variety, and the Canberra district. We, the converted, love our rieslings and the comparatively low prices niche status brings. One day, maybe, the word will get out. And it will if Helm and Burgess have their way.

Copyright © Chris Shanahan

Coopers Extra Strong Vintage Ale 2009 375ml $4.70
The five-star rating acknowledges delicious back vintages as well as the current release. It’s built to last, the preservatives being high alcohol (7.5%), assertive hops, deep malt flavours and bottle conditioning (living yeast in the bottle when packaged). It’s robust, fruity, malty and bitter – but harmonious. Drink now, but hold a few for later enjoyment.

Newcastle Brown Ale 330ml $3.75
While this is on the blander end of the ale scale, it’s only modestly alcoholic at 4.7 per cent, and offers attractive toffee and caramel like aromas and flavours. Together with the sweet, malt character this gives an attractive warming effect, while a decent tweak of hops dries the finish out nicely

Copyright © Chris Shanahan 2009