Tag Archives: Eden Valley

Road To Peerless Wigan

Strine Wine, , , , ,

“I’m sorry you’ve finished your last one. Shit happens. I hope you enjoyed it at least.” There’s a genuine note of sympathy in Andrew Wigan’s voice at the news that I disposed of my final bottle of the ‘06 Riesling that bears his name. But he knows as well as anyone that, in the world of wine, another lovely surprise is always around the corner.
That’s what keeps the fire burning for Peter Lehmann’s chief winemaker after 35 years at the company. Wigan’s journey began in Ararat, not far from Victoria’s Great Western wine district. He studied Applied Science at the Ballarat School of Mines, during which he worked holidays at Seppelt – a spot of summer pruning and guided tours of the sparkling wine cellars. “When I graduated from Ballarat in 1973, I thought it might be cool to be a wine chemist. I applied and no one was interested,” he recalls. But a lecturer’s sister was friends with Jim Irvine, then manager and winemaker at Krondorf in the Barossa Valley. So Wigan got a job in the cellar and never turned back. Dalgety Wine Estates, which then owned Krondorf, Stonyfell and Saltram, offered him a scholarship to study Oenology at Roseworthy Agricultural College. Having worked vintages at Krondorf throughout his course, Wigan ended up landing the job of apprentice winemaker at Saltram in 1976.

Wigan (second from right) and the team
Wigan (2nd from right) & the team
His boss was the late Peter Lehmann (top picture, on the right), and when Lehmann walked out following his fate-shaping standoff with corporate bosses three years later, Wigan went with him. He counts Lehmann and Irvine as great mentors, and the same goes for “legend and family friend” Colin Preece, who encouraged the young Wigan back in his Ararat days. “I had this in-built passion to become a great winemaker,” Wigan says. “I saw the regard they were held in and the wonderful wine they were making, and that’s what I aimed for.”
Not surprisingly, Lehmann’s influence runs especially deep. “From Peter I learned about integrity, loyalty and passion for making something really good. His attitude was: If you’re making a drink, make it well. Make it with a high drinkability factor, don’t charge the world for it and don’t put it out of the reach of the ordinary wine drinker. Peter also knew before others how special the Barossa was, and he had a very strong connection with the growers. At vintage he’d be on the weighbridge talking to them while we were in cellar making the wine.”
Wigan041111-011
The changes that have swept through the region have kept things fresh for Wigan. “The Barossa’s a lot more vibrant than it was when we came here 40 years ago. We were sort of in awe of it but it was sort of boring. As soon as the sun went down the Barossa went to sleep,” he says. “It was very conservative, with people doing what their grandfathers and great-grandfathers did. Since then there’s been a huge insurgence of youth and young people’s ideas. The big companies are still just as strong, but there are also heaps of interesting producers that make the district exciting, and a lot of really good restaurants.”
Changing tastes have also kept Wigan on his toes. He’s seen fortified demand dry up, replaced by an initial wave of Cabernet, Shiraz, Chardonnay and Riesling. These days southern European migrants Tempranillo, Montepulciano, Vermentino and Viognier are pouring in, and Peter Lehmann’s about to put out its first Verdejo. “Those varieties won’t dominate, but they add to the richness of the tapestry,” he says. “The marketplace continually evolves and we have to evolve with our thinking. We have access to amazing fruit from 140 growers in different parts of the Barossa. We’re teaching them to grow wine, not just grapes.” The ideas keep fizzing between his team of five or so winemakers, all of whom make both reds and whites. “If you only make one thing, you get a bit saddle sore,” says the boss.
PeterLehmannBlog
Wigan’s Bonnezeaux Gonzo cameo is the latest honour in a career crammed with accolades. He picked up the Jimmy Watson Trophy for the 1989 Stonewell Shiraz, won IWC White Winemaker of the Year in 2006 and was IWSC International Winemaker of the Year in both 2003 and 2006. Such recognition was once unthinkable. “When we started making wine we never dreamed that anyone outside Australia would ever want to drink Australian wine or Barossa wine. We had no idea we’d one day be standing up in the finest restaurants of New York, London or Amsterdam. We never thought we’d get to see the world.”
We can be thankful that all these accomplishments have whetted rather than whittled down Wigan’s appetite. “I just love seeing grapes turn into wine,” he says. “Each year is different, and it’s like that proverbial box of chocolates. It’s a great lifestyle and we get to eat and drink very well. Probably too well.”

Peter Lehmann Wigan Riesling 2006 Eden Valley

Grapes from a low-yielding vineyard in the southern end of Eden Valley were picked early and fermented cold in stainless steel tanks. Following a two-week fermentation period, the wine was clarified and bottled immediately before being cellared at the winery for five years prior to release.
Clear medium green gold in colour. Fairly pronounced, floral nose of lemon/lime zest, a suggestion of tangerine, talc and toast. Signs of age, for sure, but it definitely hasn’t lost touch with its youth. Fragrant kaffir lime marks the entry, before intense, mellow lemon takes over. It’s more than medium bodied and feels rich and smooth in the mouth, though not without a chalky firmness. The acidity is what does the business as it dances across the tongue, with pulsing drive through the back palate. It finishes long with tingly fresh lime.

Cost $35 at Dan Murphy’s – Alcohol 11.5% – Tasted 25/04/14

Cabernet Reshuffle

Ugniversal Themes, , , , , , , , ,

I grew up in a time and place where “wine” meant Bordeaux. Sure as Champagne set the stage for a celebratory meal, Cabernet Sauvignon was the majestic protagonist brooding in the decanter, waiting to steal the show. It smelt at once of pretty things and the world of men: flowers, redcurrants, blackcurrants, dad’s cigar box and leather brogues. It filled your whole head.
Cabernet is not by any stretch an appropriate yuletide beverage in Australia. And yet some internal seasonal sensor set this particular pom yearning for it. Throughout the festive season it’s vital to know there are no chinks in your hosting armour; you need the right bottle at hand at any given moment. But we had no Cabernet of acceptable calibre and maturity hanging around.
That was when it dawned on me: in a year of wine, I’d heard sommeliers, winemakers, journalists and friends gush over just about every grape under the sun bar one: Cabernet.
At first glance it appears odd that this should be the case. Global plantings have doubled since the 1990s to make Cabernet Sauvignon the planet’s most popular grape. It makes some of the world’s most expensive, revered and long-lived wines. So why’s it getting so thoroughly dissed by people whose job it is to love and share wine?
IMG_0769
In a world where cult rules, ubiquity is uncool. Cab’s rise to top spot on earth’s vineyard prompted Time magazine to brand it “the Coca-Cola of viticulture”. “Cabernet is conformist,” young Sydney sommelier Julia Sewell tells me. “Buying Cabernet is buying into the commercialist aspect of wine.” Another young somm, Leanne Altmann of Cutler & Co in Melbourne, wonders if overfamiliarity has left drinkers unconvinced of the grape’s capacity to surprise. “The cool kids will drink Cabernet – if it’s Franc,” she jokes.
My fellow Cab-loving pom Dan Coward, currently a vintage cellar hand at Shaw + Smith, thinks it’s possible that Cabernet has rested on its laurels for too long. That means trading on its Bordeaux image, when for many Bordeaux is “boring and alienating”. “Cabernet Sauvignon’s not communicating itself well at the moment, so people are drawn to more seductive targets,” he says.
And there are plenty of those around. Cab’s world domination makes any grape exotic in comparison. And that’s before you go busting wine stylin’ moves. Other grapes get the full Kama Sutra thrown at them; Cabernet is strictly missionary.
And then there’s the perception of Cabernet drinkers as older people who “know what they like” – which is probably to have sex with the lights off and their clothes on. The herd of rude, red-faced old men who elbowed their way through a recent public tasting of Coonawarra wines did little to dispel this myth.
But Cab doesn’t just lack hipster drinkers; where are the with-it winemakers when you need them? Probably with their head in a vat of whole-bunchy Syrah or skin-contact Savagnin. Wherever, they’re certainly not standing on their soapbox for contemporary claret.
IMG_0588
If Chinese millionaires and imposing Châteaux lend Bordeaux an air of aloofness, Cabernet in Australia may suffer from a different kind of inaccessibility. Coward points out that Coonawarra and Margaret River, Australia’s finest regions for the variety – and the ones hell-bent on championing it – are also bloody miles from anywhere. The cellar doors of the country’s Chardonnay and Pinot havens – think Yarra Valley, Mornington Peninsula, Adelaide Hills and Tasmania – are abuzz with trendsetting daytrippers. There’s brilliant Cab tucked into the valleys of Eden, Clare and Yarra, of course, but it’s often overlooked.
And then there’s one other theory, perhaps one that could only have come from someone who’s slowly discovering he should have stayed in the Cabernet closet. But here goes: maybe they’ve forgotten that there’s nothing quite like great Cabernet because they haven’t had one in a while. And by “great” I don’t mean Bordeaux and I don’t mean expensive. I mean a good producer and region, good bottle age and an auspicious time and place – think food, company, even weather.
Looking at that, yes, it’s a demanding old bugger. In the age of “smashable” wines, that’s not going to win it many friends. “I guess it appeals to my head,” says Altmann. “But despite the delicious Cabernets I’ve been lucky to try, it isn’t a variety that appeals to my heart. I want a glass of Burgundy in my hand.”
But Coward’s still with me, lustily reminiscing about a “luxurious” 2001 Cabernet he and his wife recently enjoyed with lunch. The perfume, depth, complexity, length and chameleon-like quality in the glass: how could one not covet it?
“All retro habits eventually become cool again. I just don’t think it’s Cabernet’s time at the moment,” says Coward.
No, but that time will come; it has to. It’s taking over the world, or hadn’t you heard?

Contributors’ Cabs To Try:

Leanne Altmann

Oakridge Local Vineyard Series Cabernet Sauvignon 2011, Yarra Valley $35 “Crunchy, bright, and oh-so-gluggable.”
Bellwether Cabernet Sauvignon 2006 Coonawarra $49 at Cloudwine in Melbourne. “Classically-styled, drinking so well now but built for the long haul.”

Dan Coward

Kilikanoon Killerman’s Run Cabernet Sauvignon 2012, Clare Valley $20 “Good luncheon-claret style.”
Wantirna Estate Amelia Cabernet Sauvignon Merlot 2011 Yarra Valley $70 from Prince Wine Store, Melbourne. Cooler-climate beauty.

Julia Sewell

Man O’ War Ironclad Merlot Cabernets 2009 Waiheke Island, NZ $45 from Vinaffairs “I was once told by a very happy diner that it was like running with wolves through a pine forest.”
Yeringberg 2010, Yarra Valley $75 from Prince Wine Store. Bordeaux blend from historic Victorian winery.

Ed Merrison

Tim Adams Cabernet Malbec 2008 Clare Valley $24 Regional style released with bottle age; perfumed, approachable, delicious.
Moss Wood Cabernet Sauvignon 2010 Margaret River $90 at Cloudwine Profound Western Australian classic.

The Doyenne Of Viognier

Strine Wine, , , ,

Meretricious. Always been a fan of that word. I love the fact it looks and sounds so grand – even feels luxurious as you wrap your mouth around it – and yet it’s all brass and no class. It reveals the tawdry truth even as it brags away, like those who think themselves très sophistiqué as they trumpet their love of French Champagne and vee-oh-NYAY.
Poor Viognier. It so often finds its name horribly mispronounced or dragged through the mud by shoddy winemaking. Golden-hued and exotically perfumed, it looks every bit the princess. But get a little closer and it’s a burnt-out frump, all grease and flab and booze. A meretricious wine if ever there was one. “A bad Chardonnay is just boring but a bad Viognier is quite horrific,” as Yalumba chief winemaker Louisa Rose puts it.
In fairness, this fine wine grape is extraordinarily well placed to deliver a duff drop. Low acidity and high phenolics can be a recipe for fat, oily wines and its tendency to develop its flavours at high sugar levels can lead to sickly, apricot schnappsiness.
The wines of Condrieu, a small appellation in the northern Rhône, prove beyond doubt that Viognier can be great. That potential is widely acknowledged; any wine list worth its salt will offer an example, while it appears to enjoy strong favour among winemakers across the US. Here in Australia there was barely a vine in the ground in the year of my birth. Thirty-seven chequered years later, some 500 wineries are having a crack.
The truth is that this gifted child needs special treatment. And doting parents Yalumba and Rose have shown just what unconditional love can do for it. The South Australian producer planted three acres of vines in Eden Valley in 1980 and gave them a decade to find their feet. In 1993 those vines got their own fairy godmother when Rose joined Yalumba fresh from topping her year at Roseworthy Agricultural College.
Viognier
Rose says the key is to accept and work with with Viognier’s idiosyncrasies. The grapes like to catch some serious gammas in the vineyard, earning the kind of suntan that would write off other aromatic whites. They accumulate flavours late in the season, and very quickly once they get going. Then you need a fresh approach to mitigate that low acidity, and its slippery nature’s just something you have to get to grips with.
At 400 to 600 metres above sea level, Eden Valley offers hope of good, gradual ripening and retention of natural acid. Rose then allows some exposure to oxygen in order to sidestep other potential pitfalls. “That way it loses the bitter phenolics but keeps the fine, textural phenolics that we think are very important,” she explains. “You want richness and lusciousness but you don’t want the heavy, flabby, oily character.” A combination of prolonged ripening, oxidative handling, indigenous yeasts and lees stirring ensure the wine develops complexity, with savoury and spice notes providing a counterpoint to the rich, ripe stone fruit aromas.
Yalumba offers three tiers of Viognier. The jump-off point is the Y series, a lovely drink with varietal definition rarely seen at its Australian price point around $12. Then there’s the Eden Valley label, which Rose calls “the essence of our Viognier”. I’ve singled this out because it’s cheap enough to take a punt on and compelling enough to settle the question of whether you should drink more Viognier.
Which means you’ll have no choice but to try the Virgilius. This flagship Viognier is 100% barrel fermented in old French oak, then spends longer in barrel and bottle before release than the Eden Valley does. This outstanding wine is a step up in musk, spice and mystique.
So, as they say at Yalumba, Y Viognier? Granted, its richness doesn’t lend itself to the role of aperitif or quaffer. But it’s certainly a wine to luxuriate in. It’s also a hugely welcome dinner guest, with intensity, texture, spice and creaminess to work with.
But really it’s Viognier’s singularity that makes it so enticing. “It behaves differently from other white varieties we’re used to,” Rose says. You sense this is what spurred her to grapple with it and debunk the myth of meretriciousness.
Viognier is how it is. Get used to it.

Yalumba Eden Valley Viognier 2012

Two-thirds of the fruit was gently pressed directly to barrels, with the rest pressed to stainless steel. It was fermented with indigenous yeasts and left on lees, with regular batonnage for 10 months.
Gleaming medium golden green with thick, clinging tears. Pronounced, attractively aromatic nose of apricot, peach, jasmine, cocoa butter and grilled nuts, with underlying creamy lees. It’s dry, medium to full bodied, fairly weighty and unctuous with a touch of grip. The palate shows intense, apricot-led stone fruits with almond essence, ginger and cream. It finishes with spice and notes of brine and almonds, a good savoury offset to the ripe apricot. The wine has superb balance, with striking freshness and a beautifully toned palate.

Costs $16.70 on special at Dan Murphy’s – Alcohol 14% – Tasted 04/01/14