Thistledown Harvest 2014

One of our labels, The Cunning Plan, alludes to the fact that with every new vintage there is a new, unique challenge and only those flexible and creative enough will rise to the challenge.

The growing season prior to vintage 2014 has certainly illustrated that one should never taken anything for granted – though the challenges faced in Australia certainly pale into comparison with those faced by Europe in 2013.

After a winter with adequate water, spring was dry but the flowering period brought mixed weather with mild, hot and windy weather in succession – leading to poor fruit set for some varieties. Growers in some areas of Barossa were also devastated by a black frost, hitting the area around Ebenezer particularly hard.

December brought mild weather and the promise of a return to the traditional, later harvests and moderate alcohols of yesteryear. Indeed, the leisurely progress of veraison suggested that harvest would be at least a couple of weeks later than last year.

However, the increasingly common heatwaves returned with avengeance leading to a non consecutive period of 13 days over 40 degrees, breaking the previous record of 12. Good reserves of water meant that the vines survived remarkably well but then, just as vines were rushing fruit through to ripeness, mother nature intervened again and dropped up to 160mm of rain in 30 hours!

Though there has been some splitting, the weather is now set fair and the vines, having had a much needed drink, are now slowly ripening their fruit with the potential to still give 2014 all the qualities of a great year. We’re certainly looking at a longer growing season and one that promises lower alcohols.

There is still much to play for but we are excited about the potential – watch this space.

The Great French Wine Drought

The figures are as alarming to wine buyers as they are pleasing to EU bureaucrats intent on stemming the source of the wine lake: Languedoc-Roussillon production in 2013 is approx 13.3 million hectolitres, in 2012 it was 12 million but in 2000, the 5 year average was 21 million hectolitres.

As in many other areas of Europe, the EU put in place a vine-pull scheme that lacked the discriminating criteria of vine age, commercial value, historical importance or common sense. Instead, we have seen vineyards of significant age, but poor yields, being pulled out when young, vigorous yet commercially indifferent vineyards have been left in the ground. Huge areas of vineyard have been lost, unlikely ever to return to grape cultivation.

That this has happened is deeply concerning but equally, subsidised seas of wine wasn't doing any of us any good either. However, there are signs that worse is yet to come. The average age of growers throughout the region is high at over 50 and there are few signs of enough young-bloods coming into viticulture. When the current generation of growers die, who will tend the vines? What incentive is there for them not to be pulled up?

Many growers have moved, if not in whole, but in part, to cereal production which although it does not give guaranteed high prices, does carry with it much greater flexibility than viticulture for following where the money is going. Coupled with all of these commercial pressures, the climate has become less predictable which in some instances, where the current crop and next year’s fruitfulness are affected, has commercial effects which last two years. The outlook is troubled.

The response of wine producers in the region is to withdraw from the price points which historically would have been their life-blood – they are no longer sustainable and other areas of the world, such as Spain, command those price points more confidently. The potential is to build more value in the extremely high quality that can be achieved in parts of the region. However,without the foundation of their historical business in place, they must be concerned for the long term as to whether that value can be grown quickly enough to compensate for lost volume and to convince the market that there is a premium to pay for keeping those venerable vines with their feet in the ground.

Varietal Incidental

It was late, and yet Adelaide’s burgeoning wine bar scene beckoned us forth and, in the interest of professional thoroughness, we complied.

For those of you not around in the eighties, and therefore not familiar with the work of the Sheffield new romantics-cum-popsters, Human League, the similarity of look between Phil Oakey and the current batch of hipster barmen will have escaped you. But, with head shaven on one side, floppy hair t’other and chin generously festooned with fluff, the similarity was unmistakeable. Wherever we went in Australia, the essential must-have for hipster mixters was a beard, the more like zz top the better.

This was one such establishment, the proprietor literally bristling with pride over his uniformly eclectic wine list and his equally eclectic taste in facial furniture. It was late, very late so my recall is perhaps a little hazy but I distinctly remember being poured a glass of Riesling that he had had a hand in making. It was, predictably, a natural wine, with deep colour, little in the way of neither varietal distinction nor character. Not downright bad but to my weary tastebuds, utterly pointless. We were even told that when he bottles the wine he sticks a matchstick down the side of the cork for some controlled (yeah right, controlled like a Toronto mayor in a crack den) oxidation. Not quite the low intervention, low input winemaking espoused by the naturalistas.

But, this did get me thinking about some of the recent articles written about the importance, or otherwise, of varieties. Andrew Jefford wrote an interesting article that questioned the use of the variety as the dominant feature of the language of wine communication. He argued that because the flavour and character of wines varies depending on where and how it has been grown, even when grown from the same variety, place has more relevance than variety in determining what the consumer should expect from a wine.

Some have gone even further, with the affable Steve Webber at De Bortoli espousing the “varietal incidental” theory that varietal character should be subdued. I would suggest that such theories, and those of Jefford, are somewhat elitest and expect a far higher degree of consumer interest and engagement than is the reality.

While many of us in the wider wine community are comfortable to lose the variety as the defining element of any wine, to suggest that the majority of consumers, most of whom have been taught to recognise and value variety over and above everything else, can or would like to spend the time learning about every single place that grows grapes, is preposterous.

What’s more, the argument is commercially arrogant in that it expects a far higher degree of consumer knowledge than would be expected for virtually any other product bought.

Take for instance beef. I’m quite happy talking about and recognising the difference between grain fed versus grass fed, wet aged versus dry aged and slow growing indigenous versus fast growing hybrid crosses – but are the majority of beef consumers? If we discount the virtues of varietal dominance, are we to describe all beef by where it came from first rather than the fact that it is beef first and foremost?

Even if you discount that argument as being too generalist, we could take it further. Let’s  accept the notion that if wine=beef then variety=breed. No doubt a Dexter tastes different whether it has been grown in the borders of Scotland on grass or in Ireland on grain but its small frame, and finely grained meat remain consistent throughout. Its basic genetic structure remains the consistent, defining and easily communicable feature – and so it is true of Cabernet Sauvignon, Sauvignon Blanc or Syrah.

I revel in the complexities and nuances of wine, positively froth at the subtle yet profound influence that provenance has on the end product but understand that for many, wine is an enjoyable drink to have with or without food. They are already baffled by the intricacies of wine so let’s not make it harder for them by tearing up the rule book.

The Old Dog

The U.S tends to do things big. The ongoing senate stand-off over the gargantuan national debt ceiling is testament to the fact that when the U.S does something, it does it on a grand scale.

And so it was with Australian wine. The clamour with which the U.S wine drinking cognoscenti displayed all the elements of a mania – extreme excitement, boundless energy and some irritability. Wines with the right scores simply flew (despite their sometimes leaden weight) and importers and distributors fought for the rights of the lucky few. Encouraged by the reverential treatment, some producers even had the audacity to favour the less critical Americans over their stalwart Brit partners.

It was not unusual at the time to receive Australian suppliers who, having spent time in the U.S, were somewhat taken aback to have to convince sceptical U.K buyers that they were anything but jonny-come-latelys.

The sad truth is that even the luke-warm approval of UK critics for Australia’s premium wines turned to apathy and in the U.S the reversal of fortune was more spectacular. With all the grace of Vanessa Feltz dancing the tango, U.S importers and distributors turned toes on Australia and fled what they saw as a sinking ship.

The intervening years have not been kind to Australia, but they have been cathartic. Forced to leave the comforting shores of the UK and U.S, Australian wineries have found a wealthier and more valuable market in the Far East and are no longer totally reliant on the traditional markets.

So, with news this week that the tide is slowly turning for Australian wineries in the U.S, are we to believe that Australia is finally back on course?

Well, the signs seem to signal that this is the case. The global supply and demand cycle is in Australia’s favour for once. Strong like no other currency (except the Canadian$) the Aussie $ is on the slide and forecasts suggest that we might get back to $2:£1 for the first time in many years. This can only improve the quality v value relationship in export markets.

Coupled with this, supply from the larger than expected 2013 vintage is bountiful in warm climate areas and poor in some of the premium regions such as Barossa. This can only be a good thing as it will polarise the price of cheap, irrigated, warm climate fruit from that which has quality, provenance and character.

Elsewhere in the world, the supply situation could play into the hands of the Australian wineries. A generally poor vintage in Europe in 2013 will yield large quantities of mediocre wine in some areas and in others, a mercifully small harvest of below par wine. Chile has just suffered its worst frost for 84 years and the other countries still have the feel of one-trick-ponies. All seems to be going the way of the Australian for once – let’s hope this doesn’t carry through to sport…..

More than all of this though is that the quality and diversity of Australian wine, while always commendable, is now utterly brilliant. Brilliant not only in quality but in subtlety, nuance, experimentation and attitude. Less of the please-all styles of yesteryear and more of the sod-you if you’re not going to buy it we’ll at least make the wine we want to make. And in adopting this attitude, they have, unwittingly set the foundations for the great comeback.

The condescending, used to talk about the more interesting wines of the marginal climates, the quirky, off-beat stuff found in Beechworth, Canberra, Tasmania and such like. Damning with faint praise, the criticism might have had some validity but it ignored the fact that some of the most passionate, life-long experimenters were right at the heart of the industry, working in some of the most established regions.

Nowadays, the roll-call of those willing to push the boundaries and proudly sell wines with a new Australian identity are too numerous to mention (though obviously our very own thousand candles and Domaine A spring to mind) Some of the most controversial wines are being made in that heartland of the traditional Australia, Barossa and, as the standard bearer for Australia in export markets, it is this region that once again is at the forefront of the resurgence of Australia.

As we invest ever deeper in this region with our Thistledown project, I for one am confident that this is one dog who can teach the wine world a few new tricks

This little piggy....

Sitting over lunch at  the thousand candles farmstead, Bill Downie reminded me that the first time we met we talked very little about wine and more about pigs. I told him of my love for Jamon and of my unlikely plans to persuade my neighbours to give up a few metres of their garden in order to create a communal pig run. In turn, Bill told me of his plans to keep pigs and experiment with different foodstuffs to see what difference it made to the flavour of the subsequent ham.

Many years on and while I still obsess over great jamon, my garden remains a porcine free zone. I did almost persuade my wife, and some neighbours, to buy some “micro” pigs but in the end, the risk of my wife returning home to find me cooking one of these bite sized piggies was deemed too high. Bill, on the other hand, has embraced the self sufficiency model and is busy rearing and butchering his piggies very successfully.

But I wasn’t there just to chew the porcine fat, this was my chance to absorb the thousand candles vibe – and a very chilled out vibe it turned out to be. Much has been said about thousand candles over the past year and it’s clear that Bill has grown a little weary of the somewhat spiteful attacks on the project by sceptical fellow winemakers. It’s difficult to see why this well intentioned project could elicit anything more than praise for being brave enough to do things differently.

Thousand candles aims to express the character of one vintage on one farm, with all the vicissitudes of climate and weather that accompany it. This is a very real exploration  and communication of a very Australian notion of terroir. Bill volunteered that he believed that the Australian interpretation of terroir needs to be different from that accepted in Europe.

Many people comment on how the sky in Australia seems larger, higher, more soaring than that found in Europe. I asked Bill why he thought this was the case and his explanation went some way to elucidating his notion of Australian terroir.

Australia is an old land, something often overlooked by those looking at its relatively recent modern history. Australia is a low country, its flesh almost seeming to sink back down towards its skeleton, revealing its bones, its very structure. The result is that the land shrinks away from the sky, providing more space and more height. In Europe the land is younger, more urgent – continually pushing itself up towards the sky resulting in less space, less volume.

Given these fundamental differences, it’s not unreasonable to hypothesise that the way in which nature interacts with its environment will also differ. In Europe, the notion of terroir is very heavily weighted towards what is below the ground – the soil, the drainage, the nutrients. Downie hypothesises that the Australian notion of terroir must be weighted towards what happens above the ground. In such an old land, the soils are more homogenous, more consistent and while pockets of unique soils exist, these are the exception rather than the rule. We must therefore look towards unique climates, micro climates and original interactions between the climate and the vine. Against such an exaggerated canvas it is the colour above the ground that paints the Australian concept of terroir.

Hail! Let sanity prevail

While many of us basked in a remarkably settled, warm spell of something that in olden days was called summer, spare a thought for our vine growing friends on the continent.

Gale force winds, thunder, lightning and most damaging, hail have been unleashed on a number of French wine growing regions with alarming consequences. Last Friday's hail storm in Bordeaux are alleged to have destroyed 20000 hectares of vines - that's potentially 12 million cases lost. Now, whether that loss of wine will have any real effect on the end consumer is doubtful as competition is such that others will take its place. However, what it does do is clearly illustrate how perilous the position is of many vine growers around the world and, critically, how little attention is given to this by those involved in the supply chain.

We know competition is tough but when those who risk their livelihoods on an annual basis can barely make ends meet in a good year, there is something wrong.

Perhaps we need to accept that (try telling a French vinegrower this) many areas of the world need to grub up their less good vines in order to put a floor under the price of the better fruit? Of course, many regions have already gone some way down this road but will it be enough?

I'm not sure it will be until we efficiently differentiate the industrially, reliable, consistently produced but ultimately mediocre wine from something with a little heart and soul. Many people, even in the trade, talk about wine in the same breath as beers and spirits and expect wine to be able to do the same consistent job for them - taste ok and make margin. We need to be able to deliver for them but we also need to make a clear distinction between the wine that can be produced year in year out, consistently yielding and with stable pricing and the wine that is produced in areas where climate is a more variable factor.

In the mind of the consumer, this needs to be very clear. To straddle my hobby horse once again, one of the clearest ways of doing this is through packaging. Lets welcome the growing trend in the on-trade of selling wines by the glass from bag in box, lets encourage the retail sector to do the same. Lets not do what the Swedes do and confuse the message by putting very high quality in bag in box but make it a clear differentiator between the consistent and palatable and the artisan and the exquisite.

Give the consumer a real, understandable retail ladder to climb and we might be surprised just how high they are prepared to climb.

A Welcome Interruption

We're delighted that we're going to be working with Paul Henry and Bill Downie with their arresting thousand candles project.

I've known Paul for a long time. When Paul headed up Wine Australia in London it was very much at the height of our growth in the Australian sector and we had opportunities to work together on the Stella Bella Scholarship amongst other activities. We've remained in touch since then and its great to work with Paul on a project that changes perceptions of Australian wine in a way that was so difficult to succeed in when he was at Wine Australia. If there is a more convincing, eloquent communicator on oz wine then I'm yet to meet him.

I know less of Bill, though suffice to say, his reputation for making some of Australia's finest pinot, proceeds him. Carved from a different stock than that of the mainstream Oz winemaker, I'm very much looking forward to getting to know him, and all about thousand candles later on this month when I head out to Oz.

The name of the estate is inspired by a story from the farm's history.Referring to a 19th century account of an indigenous people's ceremony granting freedom of the bush, a European settler who, commenting on the tribesmen dramatically holding aloft their firesticks remarked that it was as if the  "twilight had been interrupted by a thousand candles"

For all it’s haunting, subtly nuanced style, this is a bold wine.It is bold not for fulfilling the hackneyed Australian stereotype of strident fruit, deep flavour and “over-delivery” but bold for its unique blend and for challenging perceptions of vintage and varietal appropriateness. It also happens to taste wonderful” 

And for that reason alone we eagerly await it autumnal arrival in the UK