Regional wine shows, says leading Australian wine man Brian Croser, can be marketing springboards. With the international fine wine market so focused on what grows best where, he argues, regional shows can highlight what varieties best suit a region and the results used to take that message to the world.

Croser was in Canberra last week to chair the Canberra Regional Wine Show, an event open to producers from Canberra, Hilltops (Young), Tumbarumba, Southern Highlands, Gundagai and the south coast.

It’s an extraordinarily varied catchment for grape growing – and hence wine flavours – with vineyards spread over a significant range of latitudes (Mittagong in the north to Gundagai in the south) and, perhaps more importantly, from altitudes of near sea level at Nowra, to around 900 metres at Tumbarumba.

That spread means, as well, a wide range of soils, aspects and, of course, the all import diurnal temperature ranges and low humidity of inland sites, versus the more humid, lower temperature range of coastal sites.

That ensures considerable diversity of wine styles in our local show. Interestingly, our judging scores correlated closely with the theory of what varieties ought to work in the various locations.

At the trophy presentation and exhibitors’ tasting, Croser urged local makers and growers to maximise the four benefits that he sees flowing to them from the show.

First, look at the results, he said, and they’d find a fine-tuned benchmarking exercise, especially in classes like shiraz. In Canberra, he said, the judging was harder than in a big-city show because our styles were in a more limited range – and not shaded by blockbusters from the Barossa or McLaren Vale as they might be in an open show.

This made the task harder for judges. But it allowed a regional style to be judged in all its subtlety and, hopefully, for a range of styles within that comparatively narrow spectrum to be awarded.

Second, regional shows highlight, as well, the bigger picture of what suits various parts of the region. He said that in the Perth Sheraton show for Western Australian wines last week, for example, regional specialties dominated the awards list: chardonnay and cabernet merlot from Margaret River and shiraz from Frankland River.

Similarly, the Canberra show illustrated the strength of high-altitude Tumbarumba’s chardonnay and pinot noir chardonnay sparkling wine; Nowra’s suitability for semillon; and Canberra’s suitability for shiraz, riesling and viognier.

Third, Croser argued, the ratings, in conjunction with judges comments in the catalogue of results, provide clues for improving technical aspects of viticulture and winemaking – and, hence, wine quality.

The fourth and final virtue, Croser believes, is the ability of shows to ‘inform and inspire the way a region manifests itself – to identify its strengths and how to tell the world’.

As to Canberra itself, as opposed to the outlying areas included in the judging, Croser sees a natural matrix of soils, geology and climate that make shiraz, riesling and viognier naturals, and as good as it comes anywhere. ‘These three belong hand in hand’, he commented.

A great highlight of the show for Croser was ‘consistency of style through the shiraz and shiraz viognier classes’. He sees in them similarities to the wines of Hermitage, France, Australia’s two Mount Barkers (Western Australia and Adelaide Hills) and Great Western, Victoria.

He described our shiraz as bright and spicy of medium intensity, fine grained and having finesse – not blockbusters in the traditional Aussie mould.

And what do we have to do as a region to improve? Sadly, as Ian McKenzie had found as chair of judges from 2004 to 2006, winemaking faults remain far too common.

Croser found fewer faults than when he last judged in 2002 but more than he’d expect to find in other regional shows. He lamented that good, expensive-to-grow fruit should be compromised by basic winemaking faults – principally relating to smelly yeast bi-products and largely seen in white wine classes.

He emphasised that the judging of the show was to international standards and that the bronze, silver, gold and trophy award-winning wines would scrub up in any company. Our district has phenomenal strengths but room to improve, too.

The trophy winners from this year’s show were: Lerida Estate Canberra District Shiraz Viognier 2006, Bidgeebong Wines Icon Series Tumbarumba Chardonnay 2006, Wallaroo Wines Canberra District Riesling 2007, Coolangatta Estate Nowra Semillon 2001, Kosciusko Wines Tumbarumba Pinot Noir Chardonnay 2005.

That’s only the top of the honours list. For the full results go to www.rncas.org.au

Copyright © Chris Shanahan 2007

To wine boffins the names Chambertin, Corton-Charlemagne, and Montrachet conjure images of wonderful, though breathtakingly expensive, wines. Stripped of mystique, they are simply names of time-proven vineyards now firmly protected by French law and embedded in wine lore.

Not just the names, but the prices paid by generation after generation of wine drinker, show that once we move beyond beverage-standard, the enduring factor in wine quality and character is vineyard site. Hence, the emphasis in French, Italian, and now Australian consumer-protection laws on defining wine-growing regions.

This concept of region and vineyard of origin is, as Brian Croser puts it, the international language of fine wine.

In France, recognition and protection of regional and vineyard names came after the emergence of specialties – a process that took centuries of trial and error.

The French experience suggests that we can benefit as we narrow our focus from zones, to regions, to sub-regions, and finally to individual vineyard sites.  Hopefully, we can learn, too, from French mistakes.

While their very top wines remain models of their styles to winemakers around the world, they appear to have suffered commercially from abuse of great regional names (Burgundy is the classic example). And rigidity of regulation tends to stifle innovation.

Only over the last decade has Australia formally defined its broad wine-growing zones, and made solid progress on defining regions and sub-regions within those zones. But the hearts and minds of domestic wine drinkers are well ahead of the law.

If our drinking has moved just one step above Jacobs Creek or Lindemans Bin 65 we know that district of origin defines the character of the wine we drink. We know that Margaret River Cabernet, in general, tastes unlike wine made from the same variety in Coonawarra; or that Barossa Valley and Hunter Valley shiraz are generally two different beasts.

But what the French have shown, and Australian wine makers and consumers are now discovering, is that infinite sub-division of the best regions yields not just variety of flavour but bigger dollars for the producer. One chases the other provided outstanding quality is there in the first place.

Look, for example, at Henschke’s ‘Hill of Grace’. The late Cyril Henschke developed a following for the wine from the 1960s. Son Stephen took over in the late 1970s gradually polishing winemaking techniques while his wife Prue nursed the best grapes possible out of the impossible looking ‘Hill of Grace’ vineyard.

Century-old shiraz vines struggle each year to ripen a small crop of berries that make a most distinctive full but elegant red that ages beautifully and now captures the noses and palates of astute wine drinkers around the world. If you want ‘Hill of Grace’ now, best queue up or be prepared to pay Grange-like prices at auction — perhaps an indicator that ‘Hill of Grace’ may the ‘Chambertin’ of tomorrow, albeit with an Australian accent. But note the long-term consumer rating preceded any official one.

Many of Australia’s significant wines are multi-regional or multi-vineyard blends. But as wine makers — supported by growing numbers of avid drinkers — increasingly seek to isolate and bottle distinctive parcels from particular vineyards or even particular sections of a vineyard, the individual vineyard label is destined to grow in appeal and value.

There are plenty of examples of single vineyard wines. For example, the Rosehill and Lovedale Vineyards – established by legendary Hunter winemaker Maurice O’Shea in 1945 – excel at producing shiraz and semillon respectively. Now in the hands of McWilliams with the wines made by long-term Hunter winemaker, Phil Ryan, the vineyards produce highly distinctive, world-class wines.

Or, in southern Coonawarra on the Parker Estate, there’s a patch of vines that makes the best Australian merlots I’ve tasted (Parker Estate 2000 and Peppertree Reserve 1996). When winemaker Peter Bissell was making the Parker wines, he told me that the merlot on Parker’s vineyard was established from cuttings off Balnave’s vineyard. But the Parker block produces merlot ‘three times as good as the Balnaves stuff’.

Now this is on flat land that all looks the same to the casual observer. Peter says that the Parker vines lie not on the traditionally superior free-draining terra soils of Coonawarra but on a little clay pan. The vines struggle. They’re small, they bud early, they set a small crop naturally – and produce remarkable wines.

What all of these single plots have in common is the ability to make superior and distinctive wine. In the case of the Coonawarra vineyards, the remarkable thing is that individual plots may be apparently contiguous with other vines that don’t perform as well.

All of which suggests that as wine drinkers we ought now be identifying the great vineyard sites before the prices do a ‘Grange’ or a ‘Hill of Grace’ on us. It’s a rewarding journey, not just financially, but in the enjoyment of different flavours based essentially on vine behaviour in different sites.

Copyright © Chris Shanahan 2007

About half of the wine consumed in Australia reaches our dinner tables via a plastic container – the flexible bladder crammed inside chateau cardboard. But will we embrace the polyethylene terephthalate, or PET, plastic bottle so readily?

Not since the cask appeared more than thirty years ago have we embraced any non-glass packaging so enthusiastically.

During the late 1970s and early 1980s, the four-litre cask (known more aptly in other markets as bag-in-box) drove the humble two-litre glass flagon from our shelves. Today only cheap fortified wines come in flagons, although the diminutive ‘goon’ lives on as the twenty-something’s jargon for cheap wine.

Various cheap, strong, light and appealing alternatives to glass and casks have enjoyed niche but not mainstream success.

In the eighties we saw wine coolers packed in lunchbox-sized tetra packs boycotted by sections of the trade. Some retailers feared that the fruit-juice-like appearance might appeal to underage drinkers, or that children might even confuse it for juice.

We’ve since seen some attempts at packing wine in one-litre tetra packs. And several makers have enjoyed success with wine in cans – most notably Italy’s Rich Prosecco, touted by Paris Hilton.

But the successes are isolated and to date haven’t appealed to mainstream wine drinkers. However, environmental concerns about glass – particularly regarding its weight, high handling and transport costs and safety – mean that alternatives have to found.

As environmental concerns, backed by public policy, now dovetail with commercial cost-cutting needs, the number of alternatives is sure to grow. And PET plastic looks to be a strong favourite.

Like glass it’s strong, can be moulded into bottle shape, enjoys a long history as a drink container and is recyclable.

Unlike glass it’s comparatively light and won’t break into dangerous shards – which is good – but it’s not completely airtight, which is not so good.

Lightness is it’s overwhelming advantage over glass. Troy Hey of Foster’s says that a 750ml PET bottle weighs around 54 grams, compared to a glass bottle’s 400–700 grams.

That means a significant energy saving for every inch of a wine’s journey. The forklift carries 266–496 kilograms less in every pallet; each 1000-case shipping container weighs 4.1–7.7 tonnes less; and your car carries 4.1–7.7 kilograms less weight for every case taken home.

And the bottle even looks less bulky. On a visit to Foster’s Wolf Blass Barossa Winery in April, PET bottles on display looked small – 500ml I wondered? But no, said winemaker Chris Hatcher, these were 750ml bottles currently being exported to Canada.

At this stage, he said, they were being used for early-drinking wines only as slight air permeability meant a shorter shelf life than for the same wine in glass. Since most wine is drunk shortly after purchase, this perhaps makes the majority of wine a candidate for a PET bottle.

And will we wine drinkers accept the new packaging? A fair bit of evidence says that we will.

Indirectly, we’ve seen the dramatic take up of screw caps in the past decade. This can be viewed largely as a triumph of convenience over tradition – even if winemakers originally drove the change on quality grounds. The screw cap acceptance suggests that wine drinkers are not all that conservative.

More directly this decade PET bottles have rapidly replaced glass in the fast-growing single-serve market, dominated by those little 187ml bottles we drink on aircraft.

These have been particularly successful in the US where they were introduced under Fetzer’s Valley Oaks brand early in 2005 and followed in August the same year by Foster’s California based Stone Cellars by Beringer brand.

At the Australian Wine Industry Technical Conference early this month, Jamie O’Dell, Foster’s Managing Director Australia, Asia and Pacific, announced plans to launch the Wolf Blass Green Label wine range in PET bottles in the UK this month.

O’Dell said that the launch follows development work in Canada and that the key advantages of the bottles were lightness and quietness in transport, reduced potential to break and their safety for outside events.

Consumer research, he reported, suggests that people find the environmental message relevant (provided it’s backed by useful facts) and that they like the look of the packaging.

On a more practical level, Foster’s offered its popular Seppelt Fleur de Lys bubbly in PET bottles at Flemington during last year’s spring carnival. Its success means that punters at this year’s carnival will be offered Wolf Blass reds and whites from PET bottles.

While it’s a long shot to project retail success from crowd behaviour at the races, the forces driving the move to lighter, stronger packaging won’t go away. If anything, they’ll intensify.

If the PET bottle’s not much in our minds at present – nor even on retail shelves – my bet is that it’s poised to take a good slice of the market from glass bottles.

Copyright © Chris Shanahan 2007

We’ve all heard of Seppelt, Penfolds, Saltram, Yalumba and Orlando – great and enduring Barossa names. But what do we know of Tuesner, Tscharke, Lienert, Hentley Farm, Clos Otto, Gibson, Schild, Jenke, Haan, Kabinye, Langmeil, The Willows, Whistler, Kaesler, Kalleske, Torbreck, Three Rivers, Rockford, Veritas, Turkey Flat, Greenock Creek and Murray Street Vineyards? – to name just a few of the Valley’s smaller winemakers, many of them comparative newcomers.

There’s a revolution in the valley – perhaps insurrection is a better term – that’s at least as significant as the ‘Rhône ranger’ outbreak of the 1980s. Remember them?

As the industry expanded and consolidated in the mid to late eighties, the Barossa became increasingly a source of anonymous blending material for mass commercial brands – many of them owned by the large, old Barossa firms.

A group of Barossa winemakers, including Charlie Melton (Charles Melton Wines), Robert O’Callaghan (Rockford Wines) and Bob McLean (St Hallett) rebelled against creeping homogeneity and put the Barossa’s best foot forward.

They saw the long-term value of the region’s tried, proven and mature vineyard resources – particularly of the red Rhône Valley varieties shiraz, grenache and mourvedre (hence the sobriquet).

As the larger companies moved away from their regional roots, these small producers embraced regional specialisation and created wine-lover Barossa icons like Charles Melton Nine Popes, Rockford Basket Press Shiraz and St Hallett Old Block Shiraz. These appealed not just to local drinkers but excited a few commentators in export markets as well.

For the Rhône rangers and the others that followed, the Barossa provided rich pickings with its unique vineyard resource spread over a large and climatically and topographically diverse area.

The significant spread from north to south, the varying aspects along the eastern and western slopes and valley floor and varied soils mean significant variation in grape flavours – and hence the styles of wine produced.

These, of course, can never be expressed in multi-region blends. But this vineyard-by-vineyard flavour expression is the international language of fine wine. It’s the foundation of France’s wine appellation (name) system that grew, not from legislation describing wine regions, but from distinct wine styles defining regions.

The Barossa’s pattern of land settlement unquestionably aided the Rhône rangers back in the eighties and seems to be an important factor in the rise of a new band of Barossa sub-regional and single-vineyard specialists.

How can history affect today’s wines? Well, it can. And it’s illuminating to quote from a little booklet that I worked on last year with Phil Laffer, head of Orlando winemaking and viticulture.

In the book (The View From Our Place, Simon and Schuster, UK, 2006), Phil writes of the Barossa, ‘More than any other part of Australia that I can think of, the Barossa retained its ethnic identity for a very long time. This predominantly German influence continues to give us a unique food culture.

‘From the time the pioneering Germans arrived here in the 1840s until the 1970s, these communities tended to occupy mixed farms, with comparatively low incomes and a culture of growing and preserving much of their own food. They didn’t have any money to move away if they wanted to, so they stayed a very tight-knit community’.

From a modern winemaking viewpoint, the crux of this is that many of those mixed farms included grapes as part of the mix, creating an extraordinary scattering of small to medium holdings across the length and breadth of the Valley.

Many of these are extant today, some in the hands of the fifth and sixth generation of the founding family. Of course, there have been consolidations, grubbings and significant broad-acre plantings over the past decade.

But what the new wave of mostly young winemakers are doing – many without wineries or vineyards of their own – is finding those old, scattered vineyard plots and making small batches of the most extraordinary wine.

They’re mostly of old Barossa families, well qualified, and often have amazing insights into what even very small plots of old vines might deliver.

These are adding to the richness and colour of the other small and medium estate-based operations. And, ultimately, their growing success will probably create a Burgundy-like Barossa – not in wine-style, but in a growing appreciation of sub-regional and individual-vineyard differences expressed in wine.

Our bid to build on the success of ‘brand Australia’ in export markets will rely increasingly on exactly this sort of regional specialisation, where it’s warranted.

And it’s certainly happening in this valley that spreads twenty kilometres from north to south, widens from about 500 metres in the south to ten kilometres in the north, has gentle hills on the western boundary; the higher, cooler Eden Valley rising out of the eastern slopes; and whose south-eastern corner abuts the much cooler Adelaide Hills.

This column will look at some of the new-wave Barossa makers in the months ahead.

Copyright © Chris Shanahan 2007