Vino Lokal. Photo / Supplied
In the Barossa Valley, Roman Travers meets the passionate winemakers, bold varietals and warm-hearted locals shaping the future of Australian wine.
“People don’t have patience anymore. The average wine is bought and drunk within 25 minutes of purchasing.”
Katie Spain is the Australian pocket rocket of wine writing. She’s the fair dinkum local too, having grown up on a South Australian dairy farm. We’re at dinner at Parwana Afghan Restaurant in Adelaide, enjoying the back story of Zelmai and Farida Ayubi, the owners who fled the Taliban in 1987. The food is delish, as are the wines that Katie has carried in, cradling them in her arms like babies. We are buying wine to drink today, and those who buy to collect are definitely not the majority.
“What do you make of some of the newer varietals, Katie?” I ask between sips. “Like Sparking Shiraz?” She asks with a cheeky grin. “Sparkling Shiraz is now HRT in a bottle for the over-50s”. Katie delivers this line and still laughs. We both do, and the more restrained restaurant guests cast a look of disdain our way. Parwana is well worth booking in for when you’re in Adelaide. If you ever see a tiny, vibrant woman wearing the colours of happiness, love and positivity, that’ll be Katie Spain. A true ambassador of the wine and food of South Australia.
A new dawn and a jam-packed schedule. I’m at the cellar door of Michael Hall Wines in Tanunda in the Barossa region for an early morning tasting. Philip Lord is the winemaker here. He talks about his love of wine and being a vintner like someone talking with fond affection about a string of old girlfriends. “Each month, I have to take care of the angels’ share.” This beautiful term is new to me, and I don’t hesitate to ask for clarification. “Oh! The angels’ share refers to the amount of wine that evaporates in the barrel. We have to top that up and that can be a litre every couple of months.” Another acronym pops into his conversation flow, like an escaping cork. I catch it and ask for clarification. “FEW? That stands for fruit, earth and wood. It’s what wine experts are looking for.”
Don’t be afraid to ask cellar door staff questions. They love it. They love to tell you all about the ancient craft of wine making, where they’ve been and what they know. In winemaking, terroir, (teuh-waa) a French term, refers to the unique combination of environmental factors influencing the taste and character of a wine. It’s all about soil composition, climate, and other factors that contribute to the distinctive qualities of a vineyard and its wines. Vintners describe terroir as the sense of place that makes a wine taste like it’s from a specific region.
Dinner tonight is with two young, upcoming vintners. We’re at Vino Lokal on Murray St, Tanunda. They’ve absolutely nailed the ambience here. As soon as you walk in, you feel like you could be in some sexy little wine bar in Melbourne. The menu is delicious, and it matches the great selection of wines on offer. Sophie Melton and Samantha Chandra, both studied winemaking together and their easy-going discussions and honest appraisal of each other’s work is something I’ve seen with all winemakers I’ve met across the Barossa. There is a genuine feeling of collegial support, without the toxic competitive nature found in some industries, where one-upmanship only serves to destroy key relationships. Vintners are happy to assist with problems, whether that’s the lack of staff, the fruit they need to complete a vintage, or simply in the bottling process.
Sophie Melton talks about her love of making wine with her father at Charles Melton Wines with such passion. You can see the love for her family and what she does, sparkling in her eyes like champagne. Samantha Chandra only makes red wine and has a real connection to her label, Setiono, that a friend of hers painted the labels for, to reflect the water that flows under the vines of the grapes she harvests.
“What do you know about the enzyme that some Asian people have, that makes them less tolerant of alcohol especially red wine?” Samantha laughs, admitting she has this. We discuss the sulphites, age and dehydration (of the drinker, not the wine) but what’s become apparent throughout my discussions with winemakers in the Barossa, is that it’s a liver enzyme lacking in some Asian cultures which makes them flare up in the face.
“What about that residue in white wine, that looks like shards of glass? I’ve always thought they were a foreign property that shouldn’t be there.” Sophie tells me that these are Tartrates and they’re naturally occurring in white and red wine. “They look gross and I find them quite off-putting”, but Sophie reassures me they won’t kill you. They’re simply a residue in the wine and become more apparent in certain temperatures. After a huge day, I’m going to sleep like a baby.
Another Barossa day dawns and I’m standing on the veranda of the Alkina Old Homestead, listening to bird calls that I’m unfamiliar with, permeated by the ones I love. The kookaburra and the magpies are competing for my attention as they call across the easy rolling vine-covered hills. The beautiful, cool morning air is heavily laden with the perfume of eucalyptus.
The first cellar door today is Wonderground. Their label is Mirus, which means miraculous views. And they are. The Barossa rolls out from their stunning art gallery, like the dough of freshly kneaded, rising focaccia bread. At the on-site gallery, artist Kirsty Kingsley comes dangerously close to selling me a stunning painting before Nick Radford takes me out to the Mirus tasting room and we yarn for so long that I’m now an hour late for the next scheduled stop. His connection to country, Barossa and the local geology is well worth taking time to hear, so give yourself plenty of time.
I’m now on the veranda at David Franz wines in Stone Well, Barossa. “What’s the difference between God and a wine maker, Roman? The difference is God doesn’t think he’s a wine maker”. I love the easy-going way David works through his tasting which kicks off with a crystal clear scrumpy, made from local scrumpy apples, before we get into his tremendous wine varietals.
“In the 90’s there was a quest with Shiraz to wrap a brick in velvet and smash it through your teeth” David tells me as we burn through the hour allocated, before heading across the valley for a concert at Old Redemption, the vineyard once owned by his famous dad of Peter Lehmann Wines. His generosity doesn’t stop there. We head into another local village for dinner with his mother, brother and nieces and nephews. David’s lovely mum is 85, and she insists on paying for us all.
I’m in Dave’s V6 VW Ute with a proliferation of fine, red dust, which covers everything, heading home to Alkina wines. The headlights sweep across the beautiful lawns as we climb the limestone driveway to the old Homestead, capturing two enormous kangaroos, as they casually escape the entrapment of the high-beam headlights.
Dave’s dad was a massive figure in the wine industry, and yet Dave didn’t want to follow his dad. He wanted to be a graphic designer and illustrator, and now he gets to do that when he designs his labels. I can’t thank Dave enough for his incredible hospitality and yet he brushes that aside and simply says, “pay it forward mate”. And I will.
Inside The Old Homestead at Alkina, I’ve got the log fire roaring as the dew of late autumn settles. The smell of eucalyptus burning and the serenity of Barossa, make me feel like I’m very much at home. But sadly, I must leave tomorrow. I will come back.
New Zealand Herald Travel visited courtesy of South Australia Tourism.