Mission Estate Winery in Hawke's Bay. Photo / Supplied
Mission Estate Winery, perched high in the Taradale Hills of Hawkes Bay, is as much a history book as it is a vineyard. Approaching the extensive property, the first thing to steal your attention is an avenue of plane trees, the solid trunks, 57 in total, have stood sentry here alongside fields of vines since 1911, chaperoning visitors up to La Grand Maison in all its opulence.
The location is undeniably magnificent. Views to the countryside and the distant sea will take your breath away but the Mission's history most took my fancy. The walls are covered with photos and artefacts, clues that help to unlock the mysteries of the estate's rich history and, with the help of Trevor, the cellar door manager, we were taken on a trip back in time.
Starting in France in 1838, the seeds of this fruity tale were sown when a group of French missionaries were granted Papal permission to head for the godless isles of New Zealand.
The brothers, unafraid of adventure, packed up their monastery and sallied forth to the Antipodes. All aboard the good ship Dauphine, the brothers took with them everything they'd need to offer Holy Communion to the savage souls they hoped to convert along the way. Of course holy water wouldn't suffice - they'd need wine, and plenty of it, sacramental and for drinking with meals. No need to rough it completely just because you're headed to the very end of the earth.
And around the globe the brothers sailed, tending their beloved vines as they went.
Arriving in Russell, the Hellhole of the Pacific, the first Mass was said alongside the Anglicans and then off to Hawkes Bay they went to start their own patch - only the brothers got quite lost.
Arriving in Poverty Bay thinking they were in Hawkes Bay, the men started to put down roots. Two years later, a search party found them and told them they'd got the wrong bay. Oops. Maps weren't as detailed back then. In fact, few had even been drawn. So they upped sticks and set off again, walking for six weeks until eventually they arrived at their correct destination, Hawkes Bay.
To cut a long story short, after a few dead ends and false starts, in 1858 the missionaries bought land at Meeanee and established their community. In 1880, for the grand total of £2020, La Grande Maison was built.
Walking us around the walls, pointing out pictures of note, Trevor tells tall tales of some inspiring characters.
My favourite shot, taken sometime in the 1950s by Marti Friedlander, shows Brother Sylvester talking to Michael Hannah, a strapping chap who boxed for New Zealand at the Vancouver Commonwealth Games in 1954. After his fighting life was over, Hannah took Holy Orders and became Brother Leo. The two men, the downright handsome Brother Leo and twinkly old Brother Sylvester are clearly sharing some fabulous joke. Cheroot in hand, Brother Sly looks as if he has hidden a glass of red behind his back.
It doesn't really matter whether he had or not, it's simply one of those images that tells a great yarn about the world the men inhabited and the lives they must have lived. For all this being a monastery, there's a sense the brothers weren't all about toil and that they understood the importance of good, clean fun.
These days, Mission Estate is the most visited cellar in the North Island thanks, in part, to its pastoral location, inspiring architecture, delicious food and, of course, the excellent wines, from supermarket brands to vintages such as Huchet that command more than a $100 a bottle and are often sold out before the grapes are off the vine.
I should probably state here, for the record, before this adventure I was a complete wine novice. Taking time out of their busy schedules, James and Alex, the Mission's assistant wine makers, met me at the tail-end of harvest to take me on a tour of their domain. Having now spent time among the vines in the company of vintners, I'm still no expert but I did gain some fascinating insights.
Beginning our tour, as if on cue, a gleaming truck pulled up and dumped more than four tonnes of grapes into a hopper. Transferred into a vast vat with a rush and a roar, the grapes were whooshed up a chute and into a tank. When I learned that one tonne of grapes can make 750 litres of wine, it dawned on me I'd just witnessed the birth of 3000 litres of wine.
Entering the winery - the smell of fermenting grapes like a smack in the face - I see this is where art and science join forces. Describing the tanks as being like children who need constant tending and watching, the young wine makers enthused about wine being a living, breathing entity.
And who knew winemakers were so particular about barrels? They don't just roll them out - for a start, wine barrels have to be made from oak, and not just any old oak.
Ideally the wood is grown in France or, at a pinch, England or America but never in New Zealand because our trees grow too fast and don't have enough flavour. Lick a tree if you don't believe me.
Also, the wood has to be split with an axe, or the wine will taste like chainsaws. Okay, I might have made that bit up, but take my word for it, oak trees need to be split by hand and grown far away and it's the grain of wood that dictates the flavour.
For example, American oak lends wine a vanilla flavour and French oak tinges it with an oaky, smoky popcorn tang.
Another great beauty of wine is no two people will agree about what is good or bad. As Alex explained, "with wine, you can't be wrong because whatever your mouth tells you is right for you. To be valuable as part of a testing panel all you need is an opinion and a palate".
Confident I had the former, I wasn't so sure about the latter, but there was one way to find out. Zig-zagging between the acres of barrels, Alex took a pipette and drew out a variety of wines in various stages of being.
From a cheeky new merlot to a downright refined chardonnay, we swirled, sipped, swilled and spat, travelling up and down the rows and ranks, armed with our most descriptive words.
I have to confess, spitting is not something I was especially comfortable with - seasoned tasters develop quite a technique, a thin jet despatched in an arc to the spittoon, but to me, spitting just felt vulgar.
I managed to overcome my squeamishness, however, because I wasn't here to get
trolleyed.
Getting into the swing of things, I'm soon inhaling everything I can get my hands on and not just wine.
I'm sniffing woodchips, toasted and untoasted, great slabs of oak - I even took a big snort of some triangle-shaped bits of wood, only to find they were the chocks that stopped the barrels from rolling. Made from pine they impart no flavour at all. I was about to say I thought they smelled very pleasant - happily I held my tongue.
Some people say inside every bottle of good wine there's a good story just waiting to be told but Mission Estate takes that maxim one step further.
The entire vineyard provides a host of good yarns, from its creation to the present day. Enough, perhaps, to fill a good book.
Mission Estate Winery
Visit the winery, cellar door, restaurant, and gallery or take a historical tour. The cellar door is open Monday to Saturday 9am-5pm, and Sundays 10am-4.30pm. The restaurant is open seven days a week from 10am until late and the history tours run twice daily at 10.30am and 2pm and take about 30 minutes.
Accommodation
The farmhouse accommodation at Mission Estate Winery is a heavenly place to rest your head. It has three bedrooms, five bathrooms, lots of outdoor frolicking space and a well-equipped kitchen, plus a hot tub set among the vines.
Elisabeth Easther travelled courtesy of Mission Estate.
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