Category Archives: Vineyard

Fifty years of Wynns Coonawarra cabernet sauvignon

A tasting of 50 years of Wynns Coonawarra Estate cabernet sauvignons last week highlighted what a long, twisting, sometimes profitless and often frustrating struggle lies behind the emergence of significant wines.

The ‘estate that made Coonawarra famous’ remained largely unknown, under various guises, for sixty years before the inspired marketing of the Wynn family gave an identity and, ultimately, fame, to the area’s unique, elegant table wines.

That Coonawarra could produce good wine had been glimpsed since the earliest days.

In 1899, W. Catton Grasby, editor of ‘Garden and Field’ wrote ‘As long as grapes mature properly, the more gradual the process the better, so that the conditions are as favourable, if not more so, at Coonawarra than anywhere else in Australia for making very high-class, light, dry wine. The results are bearing out the theoretical statement of what should be, and Coonawarra claret promises to have a very high and wide reputation—indeed, there is no doubt but that it will be a beautiful wine of good body, fine colour, delicate bouquet, and low alcoholic strength”.

Grasby’s words followed a visit to John Riddoch’s Coonawarra fruit colony and, presumably, a tasting of the first few vintages made in Riddoch’s imposing, triple-gabled, Coonawarra Wine Cellars.

Grasby notes the first vine plantings in 1891 and an expansion of the area under vine by 1899 to about 140 hectares — 89 owned by ‘blockers’ on the fruit colony and 51 hectares belonging to Riddoch — consisting principally of shiraz and cabernet sauvignon with smaller plantings of malbec and pinot noir, the latter not faring well.

According to James Halliday (‘Wine Compendium’ 1985), production from these vineyards exceeded 300 thousand litres per annum from 1903 until 1909 with John Riddoch actively seeking markets for the wine in Australia and in Great Britain.

However, after Riddoch’s death at about this time, Coonawarra’s famous estate turned to distilling its ever-accumulating wine stocks — a practice that continued through two changes of ownership until Woodleys purchased the triple-gabled winery and 58 hectares of vineyards in 1946.

Woodley’s owner, Tony Nelson, installed as winemakers, at what was now ‘Chateau Comaum’, Bill and Owen Redman – from whom he’d been buying Coonawarra wine for many years. Although the arrangement fell over a few years later, at least, after a break of 37 years, Coonawarra’s original winery was once again making table wine.

In 1951 Samuel Wynn and his son David bought the vineyards and Chateau Comaum, renamed it Wynns Coonawarra Estate, and installed 22-year-old Roseworthy graduate Ian Hickinbotham as manager. The Estate was set to make Coonawarra famous.

At last week’s tasting in Coonawarra, Ian recalled ‘the stink of failure’ that hung over the area’s tiny wine industry when he arrived in late 1951.  And he recalled the disdain felt for it by a remote community riding the Korean war wool boom.

As the first qualified winemaker to arrive in Coonawarra since John Riddoch hired Ewen Ferguson McBain in 1898, Ian confronted the challenges of isolation, labour shortages and the most rudimentary winemaking equipment. Roads and transport were poor, there was no electricity and the winery still relied on steam power to drive its pumps.

In that first year Ian brought to Coonawarra six Roseworthy students to help with the pruning, all batching with him in a little shack near the winery.

A gifted Aussie rules player, Ian then called on 70 mates from the local footy club for the heavy work of pulling the cuttings from the vineyards.

By vintage time, David Wynn had fixed the labour problem by bringing in a group of Italian immigrants. A mixed lot – professionals, craftsmen, workers and even a chef – they proved themselves cheerful and skilled as grape pickers and cellar hands.

As soon as the manual press began turning, they bust into song’ Ian recalls. And that set the tone for the 1952 vintage.

Although most of the 1952 vintage was sold in bulk, it also marked the birth of the famous label depicting John Riddoch’s triple-gabled, limestone winery.

Indeed, Wynns labels were a generation ahead of their time, boldly branded, declaring region of origin, wine style and vintage on the front label, and emphasising the region with a clear map on the back label.

Samuel and David put their judgement on the line in choosing little known, isolated Coonawarra back in 1951. That they were on the money shows in the string of superb, long-lived wines created from 1952 on. It’s a fascinating story that’s still delivering benefits to drinkers today – as we’ll see next week.

Wynns Coonawarra Estate Cabernet Sauvignon 1954 to 2004
5 December 2004

In 1951, the same year that Max Schubert created Grange, Samuel Wynn and his son David bought Chateau Comaum from Tony Nelson’s Woodleys wines. As we learned last week, this was some 60 years after John Riddoch founded the Coonawarra Fruit Colony, it was more than 50 years after the construction of the famous triple-gabled winery and followed 37 years in which the bulk of the winery’s production had been distilled.

Despite the comparatively slow evolution of the region’s winemaking and the primitive facilities available (electricity, for example, arrived in Coonawarra just a few months before Neil Armstrong walked on the moon) the Wynns made superb, age-worthy wines from the very beginning.

In tastings of Wynns Coonawarra shiraz back to the 1953 vintage in 1997 and of cabernet sauvignons back to 1954 just two weeks ago, some of the oldest wines performed best of all. And in both tastings the seventies vintages appeared weaker, in general, than the other decades – coinciding with the period when Wynns belonged to Allied Vintners.

In both tastings, too, the eighties showed a strengthening performance. The nineties exploded onto the scene with the powerful but atypical 1990, followed by the sublime 1991. The shiraz tasting stopped at the 1995 vintage. But the cabernet line up revealed the strength and elegance of the 1996 vintage, another outstanding and powerful wine in the 1998 vintage and then a return to typical Coonawarra elegance in 1999.

With the exception of the 1992, all of the nineties cabernets showed consistently ripe fruit character (unripe, green notes mar some Coonawarras) and velvety smooth tannins. The intensity of fruit and silkiness of the tannins seemed to lift towards the end of the nineties, culminating in a run of exceptional wines in the bottled 2000, 2001 and 2002 vintages and barrel samples of the still-maturing 2003 and 2004 vintages.

At the shiraz tasting we also tasted the legendary 1955 ‘Michael’ – a fabulous old red that lent its name to a new flagship shiraz created in the 1990 vintage and produced in most years since. In that 1997 tasting, the 1990 was a blockbuster, needing years more in the bottle, while the 1991 stood out for its intense, sweet fruit and elegance.

On the evening before the 50 years of cabernet tasting, we saw the all the vintages of the cabernet flagship  ‘John Riddoch’. It was a bit like having the honeymoon before the wedding. From this line up, the inaugural 1982 vintage, made by John Wade, towered above the others – a very great Aussie red that’s still evolving.

Winemaker Sarah Pidgeon tells me that of the Black Label cabernet sauvignons tasted two weeks ago by our panel of 30 tasters — made up of present and past winemakers, a viticulturist, local and international writers, Bruce Redman (representing the family that kept Coonawarra winemaking alive in the first half of last century) and a few company executives – 1954, 1991 and 1996 rated as the top three wines.

That was my own rating, too. But, there were many other wonderful wines, rating bronze, silver and gold medal scores. Indeed, very few failed to make the grade.

Wynns cabernet vintages that appealed strongly to me, in chronological order were: 1954, 1955 (a cabernet shiraz blend labelled as ‘Claret’), 1959, 1962, 1965, 1966,1968, 1970, 1971, 1973, 1976, 1981, 1982, 1983, 1985, 1986, 1987, 1988, 1989, 1990, 1991, 1994, 1995, 1996, 1997, 1998, 1999, 2000, 2001 and 2002.

The tasting revealed the inherent worth of Coonawarra cabernet and the reliability of Wynns Black Label as a realistically priced red for the cellar. But the impressive strength of the more recent vintages showed that the average quality ought to be higher in the future and that the quality of future great vintages – successors to the 1996, 1991, 1954 and 1982 John Riddoch – may move a notch or two higher.

The quality of Wynns Black Label rests on the company’s unequalled vineyard holdings in Coonawarra — about 950 of the 5600 hectares planted in the region. Cabernet plantings alone stand at 450 hectares and the Black Label is drawn primarily from 240 hectares of vines over 30 years of age – a key quality factor.

Chief winemaker Sue Hodder attributes the more even and complete ripeness seen in recent vintages to a major vineyard rejuvenation project now well under way among those older plantings. And those lovely, velvety tannins, she says, spring from that ripe fruit in conjunction with a slightly more aerobic approach to winemaking and the use of extended skin contact.

That may seem arcane to the casual sipper. But it translates to a tasty quality boost to a wine that already had the capacity to age 50 years.

Copyright © Chris Shanahan 2004 and 2009

Tyrrell’s goes screw cap

Bruce Tyrrell rolled through town last week presenting new-release Tyrrell’s private bin wines to local collectors. Later, he hosted a terrific retrospective tasting of Hunter Vat 1 semillon, Vat 47 chardonnay and Vat 9 shiraz at Tasso Rououlis’s Benchmark Wine Bar.

The wines, from Dennis O’Connor’s cellar, revealed the idiosyncrasies of the lower Hunter Valley; the vagaries of weather conditions back to 1991; and, of course, the Tyrrell mastery of these lovely regional styles – a subject touched upon in last week’s column.

During the tasting we learned, too, of an impending switch from cork to screw caps on all of the Tyrrell top-end wines from the 2004 vintage. Tyrrell says he’s had enough of cork failure, a particularly big problem for a company that encourages extended ageing of its wines and regularly re-releases back vintages.

It’s not cork taint so much”, said Bruce, “but random oxidation that’s the biggest problem”. In a recent inspection of 4000 dozen bottles of white wine from the 1986 to 1996 vintages, Bruce and his team tipped 600 dozen down the drain – not through any inherent wine problem, but because some of the corks had simply failed to provide a barrier against air. That’s random oxidation.

But the problem is not limited to white wine. It’s just that in whites it’s more obviously manifested in a too deep colour, dull, flat aroma and flat, drying-out palate. Reds suffer, too. But often unless the drinker is familiar with a wine and knows what it should taste like – or happens to have two bottles open, one good, one bad – the problem is less apparent.

Bruce and his winemaker, Andrew Spinaze, commenced trialing alternative closures in the mid eighties, initially testing a range of synthetic plugs on the flagship Vat 1 semillon – chosen for its delicacy and capacity for long-term ageing.

Spinaze says that after three months in bottle all samples, including those under cork, smelled and tasted the same. But after 18 months all of the synthetics had failed while the cork delivered its usual variable quality – some wines perfect, some not bad, some oxidised and some cork tainted.

From1998 Spinaze began sealing a portion of Vat 1 semillon under screw cap. The performance of these wines against cork-sealed bottles precipitated the decision to change.

Says Spinaze, “We were always aware of cork’s shortcomings. But we had some reservations about how our top wines would age with the alternative. We knew they would be different. And they are. But the cork failure rate is too high”.

The decision followed two important tastings this year, one in Canberra, one in the Hunter.

In Canberra, Bruce and Andrew joined Lester Jesberg, Len Sorbello and Ray Wilson of Winewise, a highly respected independent wine periodical, in a tasting of Tyrrell’s Vat 1 and Futures semillons from the 1986 to 2002 vintages. Tyrrell and Spinaze brought along screw-cap sealed samples of the 1998 and 2000 vintages to compare with Winewise’s cork-sealed samples.

Jesberg recalls that for some vintages several cork-sealed bottles had to be opened to find a good one. In the end, though, it was the screw cap sealed 1998 that blew everyone away.

A few months later in the Hunter, Tyrrell and Spinaze presented eight masked bottles of the 1998 Vat 1 Semillon – four screw-cap sealed, four cork sealed — to judges at the local wine show.

Cork fared poorly: one bore the unpleasant musty notes of cork taint; one was badly oxidised; one was slightly oxidised but pleasant and one was spectacularly good.

All four screw-cap wines opened in perfect condition. But, says Spinaze, some tasters, himself included, favoured the style of the best cork-sealed wine by a tiny margin. Others disagreed. However, the concessus was that the screw cap sealed wines were not only outstanding and ageing well but utterly reliable and indistinguishable from bottle to bottle.

So, says Andrew, “the question had become why wouldn’t we put them in”. Hence, the screw-cap roll out to Tyrrell’s very best wines began recently with ‘Stevens’ Semillon 2004 (a wine released at five years’ age), moved on to the Vat 1 Semillon 2004 and embraced the legendary Vat 47 Chardonnay 2004 late last week. And, Bruce assured me at the Benchmark Wine Bar tasting, all of the 2004 Private Bin reds are getting screw caps, too.

Murray Flannigan, well known smiling face of Tyrrell’s Private Bin Club, reports strong, if not unanimous, support for the move amongst collectors in his own straw poll.

As more leading producers abandon cork, the question becomes is the screw cap perfect? The answer is no. But it’s the best alternative to date. And its acceptance opens the door for other innovative solutions. Where are they all?

Copyright © Chris Shanahan 2004
First published 3 October 2004 in the Canberra Times

Clonakilla shiraz — birth of a Canberra blue chip

International and local acclaim for Clonakilla Murrumbateman Shiraz Viognier has terrific implications for the Canberra district – especially for shiraz growers in the vicinity of Murrumbatemen.

The implication is that Canberra shiraz – either in tandem with the white variety viognier, or on its own – has the potential to be world class. And if Clonakilla leads the way to date, it does not have to be alone in the future.

Indeed, the quality of shiraz from Roger and Fay Harris’s Brindabella Hills vineyard at Hall, Andrew McEwin’s Kyeema Estate, Murrumbateman, and BRL Hardy’s Kamberra winery (using fruit from Murrumbateman) all point to an emerging regional specialty: shiraz in the elegant and supple mould.

Yet, when Dr John Kirk, a scientist at CSIRO’s division of Plant Industry, planted his first shiraz vines at Clonakilla in 1972 it was just one of many varieties. Who could have predicted then that twenty nine years later, respected UK-based global critic, Jancis Robinson, was to rate Clonakilla as one of her two favourite Australian shirazes, or that in 1999 American guru, Robert M. Parker would give a remarkable 92/100 rating for Clonakilla Shiraz Viognier 1998. The same wine was nominated as New South Wales’ wine of the year.

So where did this strikingly beautiful wine come from? Was it simply an accident of nature – planting the right variety in the right spot, and bingo! Or was it brilliant winemaking by John Kirk and his son Tim? Perhaps the answer is that nature pointed the way, then human ingenuity ran with it.

In fact, from the first crop in the mid seventies until vintage 1990, John Kirk blended Clonakilla’s shiraz and cabernet sauvignon together. That first straight shiraz enjoyed remarkable success, winning a silver medal at the Cowra Wine Show, a gold medal at Stanthorpe and a gold medal and two trophies at Griffith.

Prior to this, though, John Kirk and another son, Jeremy, made a decision that was later to have a profound impact on Clonakilla’s winemaking direction. Looking for another variety that might suit the district and offer a point of difference, John identified a Rhone valley white, viognier, as having potential. They planted the first vines in 1986.

Then, in 1991 while the second Clonakilla shiraz lay in barrel, Melbourne-based Tim Kirk, having completed his Diploma of Education, headed off to France where I’d organised an appointment for him with Marcel Guigal, one of the Rhone’s great winemakers.

There he tasted Guigal’s stunning single vineyard Cote-Roties (blends of shiraz and viognier): the 1998 vintages of La Mouline and La Landonne from barrel and the 1987 La Turque from bottle.

At a dinner in Sydney last week, Tim said that this meeting and tasting had been a ‘transforming moment’ and that he was ‘transfixed and delighted’ by the perfume and sheer dimension of Guigal’s wines. ‘I’ve got to get this shiraz-viognier thing going back home’, he thought.

With this powerful vision driving Tim, the stage was set for a rapid evolution of the Clonakilla shiraz style.

From the 1992 vintage Tim and John included viognier in the blend in varying quantities: starting at one per cent each in 1992 and 1993, rising to four per cent in 1994, peaking at ten per cent in 1995 and 1996, then falling back to 5 per cent in 1997, 1998 and 1999, and lifting to six per cent and seven per cent in the 2000 and 2001 vintage respectively.

The viognier component adds to the wine a lovely floral fragrance. But, Tim asks, at what point does it become too much? And when does the addition of white wine to red create a rose rather than enhancing the perfume or texture of the red?

While trialing various levels of viognier, Tim and John worked on the winemaking regime, too, eventually settling on limited whole bunches in the ferments (these add a gamey dimension) and on about one third new French oak for maturation.

And after 1995 they altered the trellising system for shiraz, opening the canopy and using vertical shoot positioning to improve fruit exposure and maximise ripening.

In 1997 Tim moved from Melbourne to Canberra to focus on winemaking full time. As a result Clonakilla Shiraz Viognier’s journey to greatness accelerated. The trend has been steadily upward. And the 2001 vintage now available at cellar door ($48) is as beautiful an expression of cool-climate shiraz as Australia makes.

Copyright © Chris Shanahan 2002 & 2007

Orange a bright star on the NSW Great Dividing Range

A collation of my Canberra Times articles published between January and March 2000

January 23  2000
Along New South Wales’ Great Divide — from Tooma and Tumbarumba in the south, heading north through Gundagai, Canberra, Yass, Young, Harden, Cowra, Cudal and Cargo, to the cool heights of Orange’s Mount Canobolas and on to Mudgee – sheep, cattle, wheat and orchards have been giving way to the vine at an accelerating rate during the late nineties.

Of New South Wales’ record 1999 grape crop of around 290,000 tonnes (about one quarter of the national crush), vineyards on the West of the Divide accounted for just over 36 thousand tonnes (2.5 million dozen bottles).

Although that may appear small change compared to the Riverina’s 155 thousand tonne harvest (10.9 million dozen) or the Murray River’s 68 thousand tonnes (4.8 million dozen), we’re talking about superior wine quality, higher production costs and, consequently higher grape and wine prices.

The difference is significant. Take for example the weighted average prices of popular wine-grape varieties. In the Riverina in 1999, chardonnay and cabernet sauvignon fetched $686 and $989 a tonne respectively. The same varieties in the ACT and Southern Highlands sold for $1,347 and $1,468.

While grape prices don’t tell us everything – and the gap could narrow if there’s a glut or recession – they do reflect, in a general sense, the different roles of the broad acres along the hot, irrigated river lands and the more fragmented, often pioneering, activities in the cooler, higher altitudes.

What all of the State’s remarkably varied wine regions share is the growth in wine tourism being driven by the industry’s expansion. Where there’s wine there are tourists. And where there are tourists there’s food, accommodation and entertainment.

Groupings of vineyards easily accessed by road from Sydney appear to be in a prime position to draw tourists, both local and foreign. That makes Canberra an attractive destination, especially if it can be linked, in tourists’ minds, with a grand wine tour that might come south to Canberra, head north to Cowra/Canowindra and Young, then on to Orange, then Mudgee, then back to Sydney.

These regions already offer diversity and quality. But the future appears even brighter, especially in light of recent Bureau of Tourism research showing that food and wine are now major attractions for international tourists.

The ACT and Southern Highlands (including Tumbarumba, Young and Bowral) produced just 3,300 tonnes of grapes in 1999. By 2004 the figures should be 19,202 tonnes.

In the same period, Cowra’s output should grow from 14,700 to 20,100 tonnes. Perhaps the biggest change in Cowra is not so much increasing quantity (much of its production goes to multi-regional blends) but the development of cellar door outlets selling regionally labelled product.

Amazing as it may seem, it was not until the 1999 vintage that Cowra’s first winery opened, at the O’Dea family’s Windowrie Estate.

Mudgee, one of Australia’s oldest wine-growing regions, changed rapidly in the late nineties. Rosemount Estate and several large investors commenced broad acre planting on a scale not previously seen in the district. As a result production exploded from around 6000 tonnes annually in the early nineties to 14,000 tonnes in 1999 and should double again to 30,000 tonnes in 2004.

The relocation of Orlando-Wyndham’s winery from the Hunter to Mudgee further underpinned Mudgee’s rapid shift into the big time.

Where Cowra began with broad acre plantings and no wineries, Orange was pioneered by small grower-makers whose success played some part in the arrival of bigger players, like Rosemount and, later, the massive “Little Boomey” vineyard, near Molong.

But, as in Cowra, fruit from these bigger developments goes to wineries outside the district. Southcorp Wines takes the majority of “Little Boomey’s” grapes, while Rosemount’s go to Denman. Here, Philip Shaw crafts the strong and elegant wines appearing under the company’s Orange label.

The wide distribution of Rosemount’s Orange wines (Chardonnay and Cabernet Sauvignon, with a Merlot due for release later this year) has been important in spreading the district name, both locally and internationally. It helped, too, when the 1997 Chardonnay won a Gold Medal and the Prix d’Excellence at Bordeaux’s 1999 Challenge International du Vin.

Largely because of the new broad acre plantings, Orange’s harvest is set to grow from 4,300 tonnes in 1999 to 15,600 tonnes in 2004.

The sheer quality of Orange wine, the natural beauty of the area and the terrific food make it ‘must visit’ for Canberrans. More on Orange next week.

January 30 2000
In 1999 the ACT and southern highlands together with Cowra, Mudgee and Orange, produced about 36 thousand tonnes of wine grapes (equivalent to 2.5 million dozen bottles. By 2004, weather permitting, that figure will have grown to 85 thousand tonnes (6 million dozen bottles).

From the fruits of this new sea of vines, Orange, just three hours drive north of Canberra, produces some of the loveliest wines of all. In my view they are potentially the best in New South Wales, and perhaps good enough to put Orange beside Victoria’s Yarra Valley, South Australia’s Coonawarra and Adelaide Hills and Western Australia’s Margaret River as our very best wine growing regions.

However, it’ll take another decade or two to take Orange’s measure. Vineyards and winemaking skills need to mature. And we have yet to see if today’s exciting wines look as good in maturity as in youth.

As wine making regions go, Orange is young. The oldest winery of twelve listed in ‘The Australian Wine Industry is Stephen and Rhonda Doyle’s Bloodwood Wines, founded in 1983 – twelve years after Drs Edgar Riek and John Kirk planted Canberra’s first vines at Lake George and Murrumbateman respectively.

If Orange was a late starter, it quickly overtook Canberra in volume. Smaller estates like Bloodwood and Canobolas-Smith were joined in the mid eighties by the 20-hectare Highland Heritage Estate and, in the late 1980’s by Rosemount’s broad-acre plantings.

But by far the biggest individual development was the “Little Boomey” project near Molong, just within the official Orange wine region’s minimum 600-metre altitude requirement.

This former sheep paddock was planted to 153 hectares of vines in 1995, 124 hectares in 1996 and 180 hectares in 1997. Little Boomey is planted predominantly to red varieties. As I understand it, the grapes are contracted largely to Southcorp Wines initially but with the publicly listed Cabonne to take increasing quantities for its new Cudal winery in the future.

In 1999 Orange’s wine-grape harvest was about 4352 tonnes (305 thousand dozen bottles). Of the total, reds accounted for 3001 tonnes (210 thousand dozen) and whites for 1351 tonnes (95 thousand dozen).

A great deal of this output – how much, I don’t know — will have been shipped out of the district as grapes destined for multi-regional blends.

A survey by the New South Wales Wine Industry Association suggests that output is set to rise dramatically to 15,577 tonnes (1.09 million dozen) by 2004. (3721 tonnes – 260 thousand dozen – white; and 11,857 tonnes – 830 thousand dozen – red).

Rising production will also see a broadening palate of flavours as the grape varietal mix changes in the vineyard.

In 1999 chardonnay (1,168 tonnes) totally dominated the white harvested. Sauvignon blanc came a distant second at 129 tonnes; riesling fourth on 19 tonnes; then semillon, 18 tonnes and marsanne, 12 tonnes.

In 2004 we should see 1680 tonnes of chardonnay, 704 of sauvignon blanc, 375 of semillon, 307 of riesling, 294 of marsanne, 275 of verdelho, 50 of viognier and 6 of traminer.

If we think of Orange only as the cool 800–1000 metre altitude vineyards near Mount Canobolas, then the dominance of heat-loving shiraz (1623 tonnes) in 1999 is surprising. However, we’ll have to assume that a good deal of this comes from the lower, warmer vineyards, principally Little Boomey.

Cabernet sauvignon was Orange’s number two red variety in 1999 at 850 tonnes; followed by merlot’s 351 tonnes; then pinot noir 97 tonnes, cabernet franc 44 tonnes, petit verdot 12 tonnes and ‘others’ 15 tonnes.

By 2004, the red mix, too, will increase: Shiraz 4,806 tonnes, cabernet sauvignon 4,764 tonnes, merlot 1716 tonnes, pinot noir 308 tonnes, cabernet franc 82 tonnes, grenache 60 tonnes, mourvedre 49 tonnes, pinot meunier 43 tonnes, malbec 14 tonnes, petit verdot 12 tonnes and ‘others’ just 1 tonne.

Orange’s increasing grape diversity reflects the varying styles and interests of the region’s grape growers and winemakers as well as the significant climatic differences experienced when vineyards stretch between 600 and 1000 metres above sea level.

The region provides a happy hunting ground for Canberra wine drinkers, as I found on a one-day visit two weeks ago. But don’t try to do it in a day as I did. A dawn start and midnight return pushes even two drivers. Plan a weekend. And see next Sunday’s column for a glimpse of what Orange’s wineries have to offer.

February 6 2000
To discover the wines of Orange the easy way, head down to your nearest liquor outlet and buy a bottle or two. If the range is small, go straight for the widely distributed Rosemount Orange Chardonnay. Pull the cork and you’ll see what tremendous excitement the region offers.

This is the wine that first alerted me to Orange’s exceptional quality. At a masked tasting of top-shelf chardonnays five years ago, the wrappers came off to reveal Rosemount’s 1994 as my highest ranked wine. And that was against some of the big names of the industry.

And it wasn’t just a flash in the pan. Sometimes a newcomer stars in a tasting, before disappearing into the background. However, subsequent Rosemount vintages show equally good form. As well, those earlier vintages, going against the tendency for Australian chardonnays to fade quickly, are actually blossoming with age.

At Sydney’s Wokpool Restaurant a few months back, Rosemount’s 1993 Orange Chardonnay showed real class – a class shared by bottles of the 1994, 1995 and 1996 vintages stashed under Chateau Shanahan when the wine could be picked up for $14.99 a bottle, rather than today’s $24.

The comparatively large scale of Rosemount’s Orange vineyard, combined with the company’s marketing strength and winemaking resources — especially Philip Shaw’s highly-polished chardonnay making skills – have created good will for the region throughout Australia and in some export markets, too.

However, there’s a lot more to Orange than Rosemount. Indeed, visit Orange and Rosemount is virtually invisible as it has no cellar door outlet. What you’ll find is a mixed and interesting bag of operators showing, in varying degrees, the rich but delicate flavours of the area’s wines.

Drive north from Canberra through Yass, Boorowa, Cowra, Canowindra and Cargo. In Orange, pull into Cook Park for a breather (have a look at the magnificent Sequoia trees). Then head down to the Visitors information centre (Civic Gardens, Byng Street) for a guide to the local wineries.

One of earliest established and best wineries, Bloodwood, isn’t on the map. Fortunately Griffin Road (about 3kms from Orange on the Molong Road) is marked. Pencil Bloodwood in, on the left-hand side of Griffin Road, 3.5 kms from the turnoff. This is a must visit. But you need an appointment. Phone 6362 5631 a few days in advance.

Stephen and Rhonda Doyle bought the Bloodwood site during the drought of 1983. “It was clapped out grazing country”, says Stephen. They lived in a car on the property for five years as they established dams, orchards and vineyards in some of the oldest soils on earth.

Today the property has 10 hectares of vines producing cabernet sauvignon, chardonnay, riesling, merlot, shiraz, pinot noir malbec and cabernet franc grapes, with plans to establish the Italian varieties, sangiovese, barbera and nebbiolo in the future.

Stephen says that the very old geology of the site was an important factor in its selection. The tired old soils, he says, means that the vines struggle a little. That means less work fighting the excess vigour that comes when vines are planted in more fertile soils.

Excess vigour, especially in cool areas like Orange, means special trellising and more work in the vineyard. Vines have to be coaxed into ripening fruit rather than putting out more foliage.

The Bloodwood vines are hand pruned, the fruit hand harvested and the wines made in a tiny, spotlessly clean, well-equipped winery on site. It even has an air-conditioned barrel maturation area – the sort of detail that finally makes a big difference to wine quality.

Current offerings, tasted at the winery two weeks ago, include a delicious, delicate 1999 riesling ($14) which we tasted alongside a 1992 – proving both the variety’s suitability for this site and its staying power; an outstanding 1998 chardonnay ($18), again showing the region’s superiority with this variety; and a strong, elegant 1996 Cabernet Sauvignon ($18).

Chirac’($25), the Doyle’s controversially named bubbly, launched during the last round of French nuclear testing, is a terrific pinot noir-chardonnay, built on outstanding, delicate fruit flavours. The base wine is made on site, then sent to Charles Sturt University, Wagga for conversion to sparkling wine.

Bloodwood also offers two flagship reds ‘Schubert’ and ‘Maurice’ named after two great Australian winemakers, Max Schubert, creator of Grange, and Maurice O’Shea, creator of superb Hunter wines at Mount Pleasant during the 1940’s and early 1950’s.

Both are offered at $25 . I didn’t taste Schubert, but the soon to be released merlot-based Maurice 1998 is a wonderful, idiosyncratic drop, showing merlot’s nobler qualities. It’s not one of those soft, drink now styles. This wine has real class and staying power.

Next week we’ll look at the results of the Canberra district wine show, then return the week after for more Orange wineries.

March 5 2000
In this fourth and final piece on the Orange wine region, we look at three contrasting operations, each of them worth a visit: Brangayne, a broadacre grape grower with one foot in the winemaking door; Canobolas-Smith, a dedicated boutique grower, maker, marketer; and Highland Heritage Estate, a tourist orientated, middle-sized producer offering estate-grown wine; fresh, frozen and preserved blackberries, gooseberries, red currants and blackcurrants and a large restaurant overlooking the vineyard.

The first of these, Brangayne vineyard, sits on a gentle slope, 970 metres above sea level, between the city of Orange and Mount Canobolas. Proprietors, Don and Pam Hoskins, became grape growers not, initially, through any romance with wine but because a decision needed to be made about the future of the family fruit growing business.

Don’s parents had moved to Orange and established the orchard (naming it after the character Brangayne in Wagner’s opera, Tristan and Isolde) during the depression. But by the early nineties the old fruit trees needed replacing.

Pam and Don considered retiring — selling the second property, Ynys Witrin (island of eternal youth), and turning Brangayne into a park.

Instead, they turned to grape growing and, with advice from well-known viticulturist Dr Richard Smart, commenced planting in 1994.

Now the Hoskins have 25 hectares of vines: chardonnay, sauvignon blanc, pinot noir and pinot meunier at Brangayne, with cabernet sauvignon, shiraz, merlot, pinot noir and pinot meunier at the lower (870 metres) and warmer Ynys Witrin site, on the other side of Orange.

Three quarters of the crop goes to other wine makers, the remainder being made into wine for the Hoskins’ Brangayne label by Simon Gilbert at Mudgee.

It’s early days, but the wines produced to date show this high, cool region’s delicate but strong flavours. The current releases include sauvignon blancs from the warm1998 vintage and cooler 1999 vintage, a terrific 1999 chardonnay, a fruity, solid 1998 pinot noir from the Ynys Witrin vineyard and ‘The Tristan’ a delicious, firm cabernet shiraz merlot blend.

Brangayne wines show up occasionally on retail shelves and may be purchased at cellar door – although you need an appointment to do so. For appointments, details of Canberra stockists or to place orders, phone Pam and Don on 6365 3229.

A few kilometres from Brangayne, and a little lower down the slopes at 800 metres, Murray Smith hand-crafts marvellous, idiosyncratic wines from his six-hectare vineyard.

Smith selected Orange after studying winemaking and working at Rothbury, Huntington and Woodstock in Australia, as well as in New Zealand, California and Bordeaux.

He purchased land in 1986, attracted to Orange by the altitude and the resultant later, cooler vintage; the winter/spring rainfall pattern and the lack of vintage rains.

With a rare passion and commitment Smith comparatively quickly built a following. His highly-awarded chardonnay, in particular, attracted favourable attention from wine critics and eagle-eyed enthusiasts.

Pop in to the vineyard and buy a bottle of his luridly-labelled and exciting 1997 Chardonnay , a top performer at last year’s ‘Winewise’ small vignerons awards here in Canberra. Like Rosemount’s Orange Chardonnay mentioned earlier in this series, the Canobolas-Smith version confirms chardonnay as the greatest white grape of all — and that Orange sits amongst the best of Australia’s chardonnay-growing regions.

Murray’s second most sought after wine, ‘Alchemy’, combines cabernet sauvignon, cabernet franc and shiraz. The style is super ripe and robust, but in a refined and palate-friendly way.

Shiraz, say Murray, is slightly less reliable than cabernet in this climate. Nevertheless, there are a couple of particularly pleasing, supple, sweet batches maturing in barrel right now. Pinot Noir, too, shows promise. Time will tell.

For exciting and individual drinking, visit Canobolas-Smith on weekends and public holidays between 11am and 5pm. Phone 6365 6113.

The d’Aquino family’s Highland Heritage Estate sits on the right hand side of the Mitchell Highway as you approach Orange from Bathurst.

Current head of the family’s business, Rex d’Aquino, says his grandfather migrated to Orange from Sicily in 1954. He established a thriving mixed liquor importing, exporting, wholesaling and retailing business.

In time the reins passed to Leo d’Aquino and, recently, from Leo to his son Rex.

The vineyards and winery are a recent family acqu isition – the family’s first venture into winemaking. Rex trucks grapes from his 20-hectare vineyard to his own winemaker, John Hordern, at Simon Gilbert’s Mudgee winery.

Pull off the highway, step into the converted tram tasting room and sample Highland Heritage Sauvignon Blanc, Pinot Noir, Chardonnay and Cabernet Sauvignon – the latter the best in the range, in my view.

And for something completely different and delightful, try ‘Mountain Flame’ – Highland Heritage’s irresistible fortified raspberry wine.

Or stock up on a punnet or two of fresh berries in season, or jams – all made from fruit grown on the property – all year round. Highland Heritage is open 9-3 weekdays and 9-5 on weekends.

Copyright © Chris Shanahan 2000 and 2015
First published 2000 in the Canberra Times

Tyrrell’s Vat 47 Chardonnay: ahead of its time, still a leader

Champions, whether they be wines or sportspersons, don’t just happen; nor do they suddenly disappear. When 17 year old Boris Becker blasted his way through Wimbledon it was hardly his first outing with a racket. Equally, he didn’t win every competition thereafter. But he was always in the running and seldom far from the top.

Like Becker at Wimbledon, Tyrrells Vat 47 Chardonnay blasted its way onto the Australian wine scene in the early 1970s. Unlike Becker, it faced very little competition as the chardonnay grape was barely planted in Australia at the time.

But like a true champion, Vat 47 grew in quality and stature to match anything arriving on the scene in the following twenty years. Today it is one of the few chardonnays on the auction scene consistently fetching more than its release. And its perception in auctions is matched in wine shows.

At the prestigious Sydney Show, for instance Vat 47 consecutive vintages (1994 and 1995) have each won two of the most important trophies: the Bert Bear Trophy as best young white and the Albert Chan Memorial Trophy as best white of the show.

At the NSW Wine Press Club lunch held after presentation of awards just after the 1995 won those trophies, Chairman of Judges Len Evans praised Tyrrells “for making Vat 47 as well as they can and having the guts to put it in the show.” Evans made the point that having won a reputation it’s all too easy to step away from the Wine Show circuit and the risk of not winning. He challenged Petaluma and others to follow Tyrrell’s lead.

Like other great wines, Vat 47 grew from a vision. Murray Tyrrell wrote in Langton’s Vintage Wine Price Guide, “My first introduction to chardonnay was through my great friend and wine judge, Rudy Komon, in the early to mid 60s. The great flavours and the resemblance to aged Hunter semillons drew me immediately to this variety. I must admit that in those days we drank huge quantities of White Burgundy and when I realised that the French ones were getting too expensive for me, I became determined that we could grow and make chardonnay here as well as they did in Burgundy… ”

To fulfil his vision Tyrrell required chardonnay grapes. And since the best were next door, he jumped the fence of Penfolds HVD Vineyard in 1967, and from these planted a 0.6 hectare vineyard on the sandy flats near his home in 1968.

A few bucketsful of an experimental chardonnay were made in 1970, followed by the first Vat 47 in 1971.

Murray’s son Bruce recalls that through the seventies, Vat 47 Chardonnay was made pretty much along the lines of the company’s well-established semillons. But some oak maturation was introduced and Murray claims that the 1973 Vat 47 was the first oak matured white entered in Australian shows.

Bruce says that from 1980 a Californian influence crept in, and until 1989 Vat 47 carried more wine-maker induced aromas and flavours thanks to malo-lactic fermentation (converting harsh malic acid to soft lactic acid) and stronger oak flavours.

The style was altered from 1989 as the Tyrrells realised that wines of the 1970s were aging better than those of the eighties. Tyrrell says he abandoned malo-lactic fermentation as he believed it was not appropriate to the low-acid, high-flavour grapes grown in the Hunter Valley.

And where oak from Nevers in the 1970s gave way to more pungent Limousin oak in the 1980s, the 1990s have seen the use of about 50 per cent Limousin, 30 per cent Nevers and 20 per cent unoaked material in the final blends.

From the start grapes for Vat 47 have been sourced from vines propagated on sandy soils using cuttings from the HVD vines (believed to descended from the Busby collection of 1832). But with production of just 3,000 to 5,000 cases annually (new plantings might lift that by 1,000), Vat 47 will always be scarce.

The quality glimpsed in those early years has been fully realised in the 1990s. Vat 47 is a true champion created from Murray Tyrrell’s vision of re-creating that wonderful amalgam of oak and fruit flavours perfected in France‘s great white Burgundies.

The arrival on the scene of Australian super chardonnays Penfold Yattarna and Petaluma Tiers (both selling at triple Bin 47’s price), in no way diminishes Vat 47’s appeal at Chateau Shanahan. We’ve monitored the cellaring potential of those terrific vintages, 1994 and 1995, and reckon it’s one of the safest bets around when it comes to top-shelf chardonnay.

Copyright © Chris Shanahan 1999
First published 11 July 1999 in the Canberra Times

Saltram celebrates 140 years

As a Johnnie-come-lately of the wine world, Australia boasts some remarkably old wine dynasties.

We can’t equal the 600 years of Italy’s Antinori family; nor the 952 years claimed by my old mate Ferdinando Guicciardini of Poppiano, Florence.

Considering the comparative recency of our own industry — and the lack of a popular wine-drinking culture for most of that time — it seems even more amazing that so many of our last century’s wine businesses survived – either still in family hands or subsumed into larger companies  — until 1999.

The Hill-Smith family (Yalumba) in the Barossa, the Henschke’s in the Eden Valley, the Drayton’s in the Hunter Valley and the Potts (Bleasdale), to give a few examples, continue the work started by their families last century.

The Penfold, Lindeman, Seppelt and Hardy families all lost control of their enterprises. Not only the names but elements of those original cultures survive in today’s global brands.

Saltram, founded by William Salter and his son Edward, in 1859 might easily have perished. It flourished, slumped, sputtered, almost died and now seems set to flourish again under its sixth owner, Mildara Blass.

Mildara acquired the lovely old winery at Angaston (Barossa Valley) as part of its Rothbury acquisition in 1996. The languishing Saltram and Stonyfell brands came with it.

Celebrating the company’s 140th birthday last week, wine maker Nigel Dolan commented how in his own time, he’s seen three owners: the inept (Seagram, 1979 to 1994)), the romantic (Rothbury, 1994 to 1996) and the professional (Mildara Blass, from 1996).

Prior to that Saltram had been owned by the Dalgety Pastoral company (1972-1979), HM Martin and Sons (1937-1972) and the Salter family (1859-1937).

The Saltram brand weathered the early changes in ownership and acquired Stonyfell along the way.

Both brands may have blossomed in the wine boom of the eighties. But Dalgetys disposed of the winery shortly before the 1979 vintage, leaving wine maker Peter Lehmann without a job and many grape contractors without a buyer for the year’s crop.

Magically, Lehmann rescued the growers by establishing another winery in time for the vintage. Peter Lehmann Wines (now a listed company) was the result.

New owners, Seagram, the giant Canadian spirit company, with all the best will in the world, just could not come to grips with the wine industry.

In my view wine quality deteriorated and the old flagship brands Saltram’s Mamre Brook and Stonyfell Metala gave way to Saltram Pinnacle Selection, widely viewed in the industry at the time as a poor joke.

Yet Saltram and Stonyfell survived the Seagram period. Just two years before the end of that sorry time, Nigel Dolan left Seppelts, where he’d been red wine maker, to join Saltram.

His arrival was, perhaps, an omen of better things to come, first under Rothbury and then under Mildara Blass.

Nigel came to Saltram with a strong awareness of its winemaking heritage. His father Bryan, had been winemaker there from 1949 to 1959, before transferring to Stonyfell, the company’s other winery.

For his first four years at Saltram Bryan worked alongside Fred Ludlow. Fred had been there since 1893, making wine for the last fifteen years of a remarkable sixty years’ service.

When Bryan moved to Stonyfell in 1959, he was replaced by Peter Lehmann. Peter (trained at Yalumba) continued making robust, long-lived reds in the style established by Ludlow and Dolan.

As Peter developed the Saltram wines, introducing and a flagship red, Mamre Brook in 1963 the use of new oak in 1973, Bryan Dolan took over wine making from Jack Kilgour at Stonyfell. Jack made wine there from 1932 to 1959.

Across the decades Jack had been making a sumptuous, velvety red from the Metala vineyard (planted at Langhorne Creek in 1891). Bryan changed the name of the wine from Stonyfell Private Bin Claret to Stonyfell Metala in recognition of the vineyard.

1961 Metala, the first vintage, won the inaugural Jimmy Watson Trophy at Melbourne Wine Show in 1962.

So, when Nigel Dolan joined Saltram in 1992, he inherited both the Stonyfell and Saltram red-wine traditions.

And when Nigel joined Saltram he found the most palpable and palatable of all connections with these traditions.

Sprinkled around various warehouses were thousand of bottles of Saltram and Stonyfell red dating back into the 1940s.

Saltram 140th anniversary, part 2

Last week we saw how Saltram wine maker Nigel Dolan inherited two red-wine making traditions — one (Saltram) based on Barossa Valley grapes, the other (Stonyfell) on fruit sourced from the Metala vineyard at Langhorne Creek, near Lake Alexandrina.

When Nigel moved from Seppelt to Saltram in 1992 he brought not just his own considerable wine-making skills, but family connections with those traditions through his father, Bryan, winemaker at Saltram from 1949 to 1959 and at Stonyfell (owned by Saltram) from 1960 to 1966.

Nigel recalls, as a child living in Mamre Brook House on the Saltram winery site, meeting Fred Ludlow, winemaker for the last fifteen of sixty years (1893 to 1953) spent with the company.

When Nigel moved from Seppelt to Saltram in 1992, connection with the past became more palpable with the discovery of a treasure trove of old table and fortified wines – thousands of bottles dating back in an almost unbroken chain to the 1940’s.

It’s difficult to imagine how this valuable (and drinkable) collection survived Saltram’s traumas and ownership changes of the past twenty years. But survive it did, and now resides (albeit, depleted after our visit there two weeks back) in a museum cellar of interconnected underground concrete wine tanks at the winery.

Given the similar provenance of many of those old wines to today’s, they give insights into what today’s wines might taste like in ten, twenty, thirty, forty or even fifty years from now.

The notion of glimpsing the future by probing the past may seem peculiar. But Nigel and his wine-making crew certainly view past triumphs as a key to current and future success.

After a tasting of reds from most vintages between 1946 and the present two weeks back, Nigel paid tribute to his father and Peter Lehmann (both present), acknowledging the importance of being able both to savour and build upon their achievements.

Remarkably, the great majority of those ancient Saltram and Stonyfell wines not only survived, but flourished over the decades.

Quite often, reds of hoary old age yield, at best, hint of past glories. But not these. With few exceptions, they shone.

The very first wine of the tasting, a tawny-rimmed 1946 Saltram Dry Red combined ancient, earthy, old-furniture smells with big, mellow, sweet-fruited, autumn-leaf flavours.

The standard held though vintages 1948, 1950, 1952 with a tremendous jump to a marvellous 1954 Saltram Selected Vintage Claret Bin 5 and even greater 1954 Leo Buring Vintage Claret (made by Saltram).

Other highlights were: 1957 Saltram Shiraz Bin 18; 1960 Saltram Selected Vintage Burgundy Bin 28; 1961 Saltram Dry Red Shiraz; 1963 Saltram Claret Bin 36; 1963 Stonyfell Angaston Burgundy (Barossa Shiraz); 1964, 1967, 1972, 1978 Mamre Brook Cabernet Shiraz; 1964 Saltram Shiraz; 1971 Saltram Selected Vintage Claret Bin 71/86; and 1973 Saltram Show Dry Red (first use of new oak at the winery).

What a disappointment after these to taste the feeble wines of the 1980’s – a truly disastrous decade for Saltram wine making.

At dinner after the tasting, Nigel introduced his flagship wines alongside more of the oldies:

A lively, intense fresh 1998 Mamre Brook Chardonnay overshadowed a tired, fat and faded 1982 vintage.

A lovely 1958 Saltram Claret Bin 21 and elegant, supple 1961 Stonyfell Langhorne Creek Metala (the first vintage and Jimmy Watson trophy winner) provided mature contrast to Nigel’s stunning Stonyfell Metala Original Plantings Shiraz 1996.

A wine of dense, crimson colour, striking perfume and opulent fruit character, Metala Original Plantings Shiraz, as the name hints, springs solely from grapes grown on the Metala vineyard’s century-old shiraz vines.

Nigel’s Barossa flagships, Saltram No. 1 Shiraz 1996, Saltram Mamre Brook Shiraz 1996 and Saltram Mamre Brook Cabernet Sauvignon 1996 (winners of a combined  8 trophies and 12 gold medals) sat gloriously — latently — beside 1973 Saltram Bin 53 Claret, 1975 Saltram Show Dry Red, 1964 Mamre Brook Cabernet Shiraz and 1976 Mamre Brook Cabernet Shiraz.

This new generation of Saltram and Stonyfell Metala reds rate, in my view, amongst the best and most sensitively handled in the country.

They’re big, powerful, potentially long-lived wines. But the bigness comes not through over-extraction of colour and tannins, nor through heavy-handed use of oak.

Like the older wines crafted by Fred Ludlow, Bryan Dolan and Peter Lehmann, the new Saltram and Stonyfell reds draw their great, supple strength from ripe, deeply flavoured grapes from the Barossa and Langhorne Creek.

A better equipped winery (meaning greater control) plus access to high-quality French oak (and the skill to use it subtly) probably gives today’s wines a slight edge over those glorious old ones.

Given the great pleasure derived from drinking those oldies from the forties, fifties, sixties and seventies, $18 to $25 a bottle for the great 1996 reds seems a modest enough price to pay.

Copyright © Chris Shanahan 1999 and 2012
First published 28 February and 7 March 1999 in The Canberra Times

Langton’s Classification: Tyrrell’s Vat 47 Chardonnay one of the few white elites

Whoever it was who called white wine foreplay, must’ve had a Langton’s Fine Wine Investment Guide at hand. As if to confirm that white wines are fun, but lead to something more satisfying, Langton’s classification cites just seventeen whites amongst our sixty-three highest priced, most frequently traded Australian wines in auctions.

In what Langton’s call the ‘Outstanding A’ category, a holy trinity of reds (Penfolds Grange, Henschke Hill of Grace and Mount Mary Quintets) perches on the very pointy part of the high-price pyramid.

Not a white in sight! Not even the $150-a-bottle Penfolds Yattarna Chardonnay gets a guernsey. It can’t get in for ten years under club rules that favour long-term performance over one-night stands.

On the next level down, in the ‘Outstanding’ category three whites – all Chardonnays – stand beside nine reds. Leeuwin Estate Art Series Margaret River, Piccadilly Valley and Tyrrells Vat 47 Hunter, all have pedigrees stretching back into the seventies – about the time the chardonnay phenomenon started in Australia.

Tyrrells Vat 47, the oldest of the three, kicked off (from memory) in 1971, gradually carving a reputation for itself. Only in the last three years has the cellar-door price broached first the twenty dollars a bottle a mark and then thirty dollars – still quite modest in comparison with Leeuwin’s seventy dollars, or the one to two hundred dollars a French white Burgundy fetches

Vat 47 looked good in the seventies, put on weight in the eighties as Californian wine-making styles influenced the Tyrrells, then trimmed down again from 1987 before settling into the stunning quality we’ve seen in the nineties.

While the eighties vintages appear to be fading, some of the seventies Vat 47s power on, as Bruce Tyrrell demonstrated at Len Evans’ house after the recent Hunter Valley wine show.

Asked for a good old white Burgundy (the French region famed for its chardonnay) for the occasion, Bruce showed up with a 1973 Vat 47. Evans demurred at serving it masked alongside a bottle of 1982 Corton Charlemagne (one of the very greatest French chardonnay vineyards). Bruce insisted. Evans poured.

Well, it was an experienced wine group gathered. And they decided that the two chardonnays served in unmarked glasses were, in fact, very fine examples of Corton Charlemagne.

I guess we might call that another blow for French mystique and reason to question our views on Australian chardonnay – not just on how well it ages but on current wine-making practices that might influence ageing potential.

Bruce Tyrrell says he was greatly influenced by a tasting of all the Vat 47s in 1992. The less manipulated 1970s wines were ageing gracefully, while the fatter 1980s simply grew fatter. “I could’ve switched the wines around and no one would’ve noticed”, recalls Bruce referring to the deceptive youthfulness of the 1970s wines.

By the time of the tasting, Bruce had already altered wine-making practice, having totally eliminated malo-lactic fermentation from the 1988 vintage onwards. Malo-lactic fermentation reduces totally acidity in a wine and converts malic acid to soft lactic acid.

The process can give a soft, creamy texture to chardonnay. But it also introduces an aroma and flavour resembling butterscotch – quite a strong characteristic in many   of our better quality chardonnays.

Tyrrell’s view is that in the Hunter’s warm climate, Chardonnay grapes develop ample, ripe flavours and that acid levels, if anything, tend to be too low, not too high. In contrast, cooler areas experience higher grape-acid levels and produce wines that often benefit from the mid-palate boost given by malo-lactic fermentation.

Since abandoning malo-lactic fermentation, Tyrrells see greater freshness in Vat 47 Chardonnay and has great confidence in the cellaring capacity of recent vintages. Only time will tell, of course. (Chateau Shanahan’s experience supports the Tyrrell view).

Of course plenty of other factors influence how chardonnay ages: age of vines, vineyard management, climate, soil, clone of vine, timing of harvest, crushing and juice handling techniques, fermentation temperature, type of oak and maturation regime are vitally important.

But, just as an intrusive oak character marred some chardonnays of the eighties, excessive malo-lactic character (a cloying butterscotch aroma and flavour) spoils my pleasure of some of today’s generally much better wines.

In some ways this is a quibble on a quite a valid wine-maker technique to reduce acidity and increase flavour. But I do wonder if, when it’s overdone, it reduces the ageing capacity of some wines. Could this be the next area for fine-tuning by our chardonnay makers now that oak usage is pretty well under control?

Copyright © Chris Shanahan 1998
First published 20 September 1998 in the Canberra Times

Chardonnay a perennial favourite. But beware the unoaked versions

Twenty years ago Australia’s chardonnay plantings were too small to be noted in official statistics.

In 1988 we harvested 21,800 (1.5 million dozen bottles) tonnes of chardonnay — just one eighth of 1998’s record 173,000 tonnes (12.1 million cases).

1988’s chardonnay harvest accounted for just five per cent of Australia’s wine grape production; 1998’s represented eighteen per cent of the total harvest and half of premium white production.

Even in 1988 people spoke – as some do today – of chardonnay going out of fashion. But for all the talk, the flow of chardonnay continues to increase – suggesting that as long as people drink dry white wine, chardonnay might remain number one.

Clearly, consumers prefer it to riesling, semillon and sauvignon blanc, the other leaders in Australia’s white-wine popularity stakes. Perhaps the reason for chardonnay’s sustained success lies not just in an inherently pleasant flavour, but also in its tremendous versatility and, ironically, that at the cheaper end of the scale it makes pleasant whites that don’t make the mistake of having too much flavour.

(You only have to taste beer to see what I mean by that last remark. Modern, mass-produced lagers appear to be ‘de-brewed’ – literally stripped of any distinctive malty or hop aromas and flavours in order to please the widest range of palates and offend none).

If the very cheapest chardonnays tend to blandness it’s not such a bad thing. At least they’re clean, fresh, very, very cheap and don’t have the distinctive flavours of sauvignon blanc, semillon and riesling that turn some drinkers off.

A short step up from commodity chardonnay we find distinctly more colourful beasts like Lindemans Bin 65 and Rosemount Diamond Label. These globally loved whites were decades in the developing.

Besides showing good varietal flavour from a continuously evolving range of vineyards, each benefits in its own way from considerable wine-maker added aromas and flavours. Philip John at Lindemans Karadoc winery and Philip Shaw at Rosemount’s Denman winery between them know (or invented) every chardonnay trick in the book.

Unoaked chardonnays have been with us a long time, although the proliferation of brands and popularity with marketers is a relatively new phenomenon. The first brand to make a virtue of not having contact with oak, as far as I can recall, was a 1977 Saxonvale Chardonnay, released alongside its oak-matured cellarmate.

My impression of the new-age unoaked chardonnays is that they were a reaction to the worst of the over-oaked chardonnays of the 1980s. This was a period of learning by wine makers and, not surprisingly, many wines tasted more of resin and fresh timber than they did of the grape.

However, the unoaked craze is well and truly sprinting, even if the majority of the runners, to my palate, come close to water. My advice is to approach with caution. Region of origin, wine maker reputation, vintage and price should all be watched. Above all, since these wines come to the market without expensive oak maturation, they should be offered at a discount not a premium.

These three, tasted recently, appealed to my palate, offering various expressions of rich, clean, crisp varietal flavour: Antipodean Eden Valley Unwooded Chardonnay 1997, Goundrey Unwooded Chardonnay 1998, and, at the budget end of the market, the new Lindemans Cawarra Chardonnay 1998 (predominantly from the old Seppelt Barooga vineyard on the Murray River in New South Wales).

Unoaked’ is not the only adjective to excite chardonnay marketers. It’s been joined recently by a ‘gentle press’ product, Sarantos, from Kingston Estates (referring to the common practice of using only the finest cut of juice in making some premium products) and ‘malo’ unwooded chardonnay from the old master, Brian McGuigan.

Malo’ refers to the also common practice amongst chardonnay makers of reducing malic acid by inducing a secondary fermentation and converting malic acid to lactic acid. The result is a softer wine with, quite often, a distinctive ‘butterscotch’ aroma and flavour derived from the malo-lactic ferment. McGuigan’s wine certainly has buckets of this character, although I was hard pressed to spot any chardonnay flavour.

This merely highlights the fact that chardonnay is perhaps the most highly-manipulated of any grape variety. It’s flavours mix and match readily with a number of wine-maker inputs and this only adds to the diversity created by nature. More on this next week.

Copyright © Chris Shanahan 1998
First published 13 September 1998 in the Canberra Times

Marlborough New Zealand — pinot noir will have its day

Marlborough, New Zealand, rates amongst the world’s great wine growing regions even though it was first planted to vines just twenty five years ago.

Its great specialty — pungent, in-your-face whites made from the sauvignon blanc grape — enjoy an international following, shading even France’s Pouilly-sur-Loire and Sancerre, the wines on which they were modelled.

If you’ve seen the label of leading Marlborough producer, Cloudy Bay, then you already have some feeling for Marlborough’s Mountain-framed, broad Wairu Valley fanning north to the sea on the South Island’s northern tip.

The Wairu River cuts through the valley’s deep, basaltic gravels. These gravels, sometimes bursting to the surface, sometimes covered in river silt, host the area’s vines and in places resemble the Medoc in France’s Bordeaux region.

Looking across this huge valley and its subsidiaries, it’s staggering to envisage the massive glacier that must have ground mountains to rubble, in the process creating a unique, stony vineyard site at just the right latitude to make delicate, intensely-flavoured table wine.

According to Dr John Gladstones (Viticulture and Environment, Winetitles,1992) Marlborough’s heat-retaining, stony soils and cool, equable climate  ‘should theoretically result in outstanding delicacy and aroma retention in fruit and wines”.

Gladstones’ theoretical studies indicate a rosy future not just for Marlborough’s already proven sauvignon blanc and chardonnay but for “pinot noir (frost allowing) and pinot meunier …. for champagne-style wines in cool seasons, and for still dry red wines in warmer seasons”.

His theories tend to be supported by the experience of wine makers in the area. With twenty five years’ practice, collective wisdom says a definite yes to sauvignon blanc, chardonnay and pinot noir (for sparkling wine); no to cabernet sauvignon; yes, sometimes, to merlot and riesling; and yes to a bright future for pinot noir as a table wine, especially in warmer seasons.

As an example of the latter, compare pinot noir usage in cool 1997 and warm 1998: only 23 per cent of 1997’s 1522 tonnes went to table wine; in 1998 70 per cent of the 2262 tonnes made the grade, largely because warmer weather produced riper flavours and deeper colours.

On average, though, carefully managed pinot noir vineyards ought to produce fruit suited to table wine production in most years. The key, various makers tell me, are careful clonal selection and restricting yields to not more than 6 tonnes per hectare.

With sauvignon blanc yields sometimes double that (and selling for around $15 a bottle), we may safely assume that Marlborough pinot noir will never be cheap. But it could be very good, judging on some of the wines tasted there.

Selaks, Cloudy Bay, Hunters, Babich and Montana all make good pinots, ranging from the delicate and fine-grained Cloudy Bay to more sumptuous styles from the warmer 1998 vintage (Selaks and Babich). What these wines show is that Marlborough captures the elusive but lovely aroma and flavour of pinot as few other areas do.

The reason appears to lie in the climate more than in any other single factor. Pinot noir, they tell me, develops its best flavours under mild growing conditions and cool temperatures during ripening.

Using ‘summation of day degrees above 10 degrees’, a broad measure of solar energy available to vines during the growing season, we can see that Marlborough sits at the lower end of the spectrum at 1101. Compare this to Coonawarra’s 1337, Canberra’s 1424 and Bordeaux’s 1392.

In fact Dijon, in the heart of France’s Burgundy region and home of the pinot noir grape, has a heat summation not dissimilar to Marlborough’s at 1164. And it’s mean daily temperature of 16.1 degrees Celsius in September sits close to Marlborough’s March daily mean of 15.8.

This is vastly oversimplifying a complex subject, but it supports the view of Marlborough as a pinot noir region.

Montana, New Zealand’s largest wine maker, with around 800 hectares of vines in Marlborough, embraces this view, having recently planted 100 hectares of pinot noir in its new Kaituna Vineyard, at the foot of the Kaituna Hills in the Wairu Valley.

This vineyard alone is big enough to transform the pinot noir market in New Zealand. And we can look forward to increasing quantities of Marlborough pinot noir arriving in Australia as Montana, Corbans, Villa Maria, Selaks, Cloudy Bay and others expand production and hone their skills with this delightful variety.

Copyright © Chris Shanahan 1998 & 2007

Redman elegant Coonawarra reds — relief from the inky, oaky monsters

The enjoyment of two new-release, elegant, slightly-austere Coonawarra red wines (Redmans Cabernet Sauvignon 1996 and Shiraz 1996) has me pondering the direction of (some) Australian red-wine making.

Are too many Australian reds becoming too big, too bold and too oaky? Is regional and varietal character being swamped and blurred by oak, tannin and forbiddingly-high alcohol content?

Many of our mid-priced commercial reds — even some of our top-shelf products — seem headed in this direction — in utter contrast to the pristine varietal and regional character displayed by those lovely Redman wines.

This polarisation — from understated and elegant to the big, bold, international style pioneered by Australia — is not limited to our own shores.

The success of Australian and other new-world wine producers is at least partly responsible for the international style popping up in  Bordeaux, France. Prior to a visit there in April, my travelling companion, London-based author and wine consultant Anthony Hanson MW, wrote,

One can identify two distinct wine-making schools in Bordeaux at present. The first focuses on the well-established view that red Bordeaux wines are noted for elegance, fruit, harmony, longevity, trueness to geographical origin, faithfulness to the character of each vintage etc. The second uses new technologies and new-barrel ageing to the maximum, to produce wines each vintage which will impress by their depth of colour, their open immediacy of aroma, their richness on the palate from day one, and their mouth-coating, pungent tannins…”

Good wines exist within either style. Amongst these, perceptions of ‘quality’ depend on personal preference rather than on any objective measure. Equally, poor examples of each exist, too.

Within the ‘elegant’ style the worst wines tend be thin or, at the worst ‘green’ and astringent, where the worst ‘international’ styles, as Hanson suggests, tend to big colour,  wih big oak and big tannins swamping grape flavour.

Looking at both styles from Coonawarra and Bordeaux, I think it’s fair to say that Coonawarra tends to be more even than Bordeaux and generally lacking the extremely bad examples of both styles with more highlights in the ‘international’ style and less in the ‘elegant style.

Another observation, is that the more alcoholic, tannic and oaked the wine, the more blurred its identity.

In Bordeaux, for example, an oaky, tannic, dense Chateau Canon La Gaffeliere might have come from anywhere. The fact that it was a Grand Cru wine from the commune of St Emillion may help sell it, but even the experienced palate might be challenged to place its origin.

By contrast, another Grand Cru St Emillion, Chateau La Tour Figeac, showed the region’s distinctive perfume, sweet fruit, and austere, drying tannins. It could hardly have been anything but St Emillion.

In a similar way, Redmans wines stand out as distinct, elegant examples of Coonawarra. There’s a deliberate philosophy behind their making; a clear understanding of what the alternative styles might be; and a long family familiarity with Coonawarra and its wines.

Bruce Redman intentionally makes the ‘elegant’ rather than the international style and says he approaches wine making much the way his father Owen — and before that Owen’s father — the legendary Bill Redman did.

The Redman’s 34 hectares of mature vines, towards the northern end of Coonawarra, are hand pruned and trellised to avoid the ‘hedging’ effect common with mechanical pruning.

Bruce says this gives his berries good sun exposure and hence a measure of protection against disease while developing ripe flavours a tad earlier than shaded grapes — an important factor in Coonawarra where autumn rain often threatens a late crop.

Timing of harvest is the key to the Redman wine style. Bruce says that in Coonawarra ripe flavours develop in grapes at comparatively low sugar (and hence potential alcohol) levels. Where some wine makers aim for grapes with an alcohol potential of 13.5 per cent or more, he picks on flavour backed up by chemical analysis.

Thus, the Redman wines often sit at around 12.5 per cent alcohol while delivering lovely, delicate, ripe-berry flavours.

In the winery, ferments are conducted in small open vats and the cap of skins is hand plunged three times a day to aid colour and flavour extraction. This gentle technique, combined with a warm ferment (20-25 degrees Celsius) gives good flavour, colour and tannin extraction without harshness.

Oak maturation plays an important role in mellowing grape tannins and adding structure to the wine, but a five year life cycle for each barrel and the use of just 10 per cent new oak in shiraz and 30-50 per cent in cabernet, means that oak flavour is always subservient to fruit in the Redman wine.

There are many other lovely expressions of Coonawarra. But in my opinion Redman provides a far more sympathetic treatment of the region’s grapes than the ‘international’ approach.

Copyright © Chris Shanahan 1998 & 2007