Brad Hickey's Wine Odyssey

A Range Life in the Antipodes

For those of you who have followed the "Wine Odyssey" since the beginning, this is a post that I'd been thinking about writing the last few weeks. So much has happened over the last 2.5 years that it's overwhelmed me. Much has changed since I travelled to South Australia 2 years ago to work a vintage with R Wines after quitting the high life of Bouley in NYC. First of all, R Wines, a US owned company, isn't so popular anymore in McLaren Vale after abandoning some growers in the district due to obvious pressures overseas. Demand is low, and supply is high, and the US economy has hit the grape growers here head on. I actually hate to write that because many of the people in that company are really nice; however, it has been a rough year for everyone, everywhere, and the growers here in the Vale have taken a fair bit on the chin. Anyways, things were more rosy when I first got here. Secondly, I live in McLaren Vale now, part of the greater Australian nation. That was THE big news to my family and, to their credit, the folks made it out this last month to visit me in Oz. They liked the strong US dollar here a lot, as well as the nice, good-natured people, the breezy life on Thorpe Ranch (my home), and above all, the warm summer weather. We had a good time together. So good, in fact that we met up again later in their trip in New Zealand. I still come back to NYC a few times a year and still have my apartment there. I couldn't get by without "Great Burrito" on 79th and Amsterdam for too long. But the big move has had a backlash that has just started to catch up with me. It's dislocation more than anything, and recently I can be found looking at my dogs and asking, "who are you guys"? There's the obvious cultural drift- I can't talk to anybody about the NCAA games here, for example. They could care less that the Badgers went down to Xavier. This really hasn't bothered me all that much, as I've been learning about rugby (a sport that really matters!), and Aussie Rules Football, and dare I say it, cricket (perfect sport to watch drinking gin, a first). But this year it's creeping up on me, being a million miles away, and connecting with friends on FB and seeing the folks firmly reminds me I was once a Yank. My accent hasn't changed, praise Jesus, but I feel my normal core of unrest has abated. This is good, and has been brought on by hiking the Heysen Trail with 2 Aussie bastards, a 1200km high-test trek thru the state of South Australia's lofty ranges and deep creeks. This will lead to a trip walking the Kokoda Trail, a famous Australian battle victory in WWII, in Papua New Guinea this October. I can feel the foie gras melting off already. Some other changes here have happened naturally, like the beautiful baby girl that winemaker Lisa Wetherell, now Lisa Miller, had named Saffron Eleanor Miller. It feels like you've been somewhere awhile when you know a friend through her pregnancy. Will I be here to watch Saffie grow up? She's already starting to become more aware of her surroundings. And all my friends in NYC, Europe, South Africa and Australia with kids, how brave they are. I don't think I could make the sacrifice. One with a future Ohio State linebacker named Bear, another with child as fashion accessory, and a third destined to be either a great winemaker, chef, yogi or brewer. They are all healthy, cool children. It wasn't until I quit Bouley that I realized my friends were even breeding. I've now seen my third vintage here in South Australia. All three have been difficult, and it isn't until you live on a vineyard that you truly appreciate how hard it is to make a good bottle of wine. Foster's Wine Company is scavenging the district for fruit for bargain basement prices (2-500$ a ton). They feel like vultures, and that will hurt the average price for fruit next year, but when there's blood on the streets... I took a lot for granted as a pampered, A-list wine buyer in NYC. It's hard out here in the country, but this is where it all happens, in the vineyard. It's a cliche, of course, but it's so obvious it need to be repeated. As S.Malkmus wrote in the Pavement song "Here", "Let's spend our last quarter stance randomly, go down to the outlet once again". Here I am, and it doesn't get more random than this.

A "Grand Moment" At Pierre Gagnaire

Before there was Heston Blumenthal, there was Pierre Gagnaire. The "enfant-terrible" of French cooking has kept pace with the molecular gastronomy boys by running a restaurant facing the future, but respectful of the past. We recently ate there with close friends of mine from the early Paris days. We had all come a long way since then, and sharing a fantastic degustation menu at Gaganire's eponymous restaurant in Paris on a snowy night was the ideal setting for the birth of, as the French say, "un grand moment". Mr. Gagnaire was present, he stopped by our table twice in chef garb to answer questions posed by our lone professor of DH Lawrence. My friend was into it! Gagnaire signed things and moved on. Still, always nice to see the man backing up his cooking, even though it's done by other people, of course. We drank a gorgeous 2001 Chambolle 1er Cru "Les Fuees" from J.F. Mugnier. To this date I wish we drank that wine all night. Finishing with Haut-Brions second, Bahan du Haut Brion 2001, we were happily working thru our menu. Both wines were seductive, delicious and ready for 2001s. I liked the sommeliers there, as well. Nice kids, in training, but they were friendly and aware of what their job was. Dr. Matthews and I got a tour of the upstairs cellar. The whole thing reminded me of my youth at Lespinasse. A time when I was thoroughly concerned with the differences between Puilgny-Montrachet and Chassagne. Now I drink Geoff Weaver Chardonnay, which holds its own compared to both Burgundian white wines. The degustation menu was good. There were not as many memorable dishes as we had at the Fat Duck, in fact the dish I remember most was the meal's great failure, a cold chicken noodle dish that was gelatinous and not appealing on a snowy-freezing-winter-Napoleonic-march-thru-Russia-night. However, it was still a great meal in the clubby lamp lit dining room, and the service was top notch. My vegetarian friend, Mr.John, had the experience of his life. That rarely happens for him; especially in France. He was treated to a dazzling array of dishes. We saw the night out with Calvados from Camut, 35 years old, and perfect. I used to buy it for Bouley Restaurant from Michael Skurnik, but I never realized how great it was until I was in someone else's fancy dining room in Paris, and firmly in the moment. Un Grand Moment? Oui, je croix. Much happened after dinner, as nobody wanted to go to sleep. Roy Orbison kept people up and in an hommage to Blue Velvet, the boys sang "Crying" to my now cross-eyed field of vision. Good stuff, and this last picture, Modest Mouse vs. Poseidon, still kills me.

The Fat Duck: Pleasure, the Brain, and Food

One of the highlights of my recent trip to England was a meal at The Fat Duck outside London in the tiny hamlet of Bray. Considered one of the top restaurants in the world, the Duck not only lived up to its reputation, it exceeded it. Chef and owner Heston Blumenthal has created truly unusual flavor pairings and a playful dining experience akin to a Post doctoral thesis on the art of eating. Memory is one of the key elements to his thesis. A number of creations were reminiscent of childhood favorites, like the Nitro Scrambled Egg and Bacon Ice Cream as a dessert. The sweet and salty maple syrup and bacon combined with the custardy texture of egg ice cream is a transporting experience that took me back to those carefree nights in my youth when we had breakfast for dinner. We were presented with a raw oyster with horseradish and passionfruit jelly, a snail porridge, and a parsnip breakfast cereal, like "Special K", with parsnip milk. These were just a few dishes which challenged your notion of what sounds like it would taste good. And they all were delicious. A large white plate with two tiny, precisely crafted, colored squares-one red, one orange-that seemed minimalist against the large white plate. We looked to our waiter for guidance. "Monsieur, madame. These are Orange and Beetroot Jellies. May I suggest you begin with the orange..." The orange colored one tastes of beetroot and the deep beet red purple jelly of orange. Surprise! As Blumenthal says in his beautiful cookbook, "The Big Fat Duck Cookbook", "This is meant to be fun. The food at the Fat duck must taste delicious-that's the guiding principle-but I don't see why a dish can't also engage the emotions, provoking curiosity, amusement or even a childlike sense of wonder. So with the jellies there is the bathos of size: the excitement of the menu with its mouthwatering ingredients, the waiter's grey-suited gravitas, the delicate, handcrafted tableware-all devoted to the peerless presentation of...two miniscule morsels of food. And there's the color swap, with its playful sabotage of expectations. It's a marvelous moment-the realisation that things are not what they seem." And later, on the inspiration for the jellies, "this poorly policed border between fruit and veg seemed to have potential." And of course, the jellies tapped into memory, as well: "Nostalgia, for example, has a huge influence on how we approach a dish. It's possible that the jellies' charm draws on memories of childhood...made all the more potent in the unlikely context of a three-star restaurant." (p.140) Also employed are the pairing of scientific terminology with classic food names: roast foie gras 'benzaldehyde', nitro-poached green tea and lime mousse, ballotine of mackerel invertebrate, onion and thyme fluid gel, the above mentioned nitro-scrambled egg, and ice-filtered lamb jelly. The fusion of modern science and classic menu items was nicely juxtaposed, much like the IM Pei's massive glass pyramid set in the heart of the classical beauty of the Louvre's courtyard in Paris. A much talked about dish, "The Sound of the Sea", is served with an Ipod nano in a conch shell. You are instructed to put on the headphones and listen to, yes, the sound of the ocean crashing on the shore and seagulls cawing in the distance. Does the sound affect the flavors of the fresh oyster, razor clam and seaweed on the glass platter? I think it does. It's certainly a fun experiment and sets your focus squarely on the dish in front of you. These dishes were matched perfectly with an Austrian riesling from Nikolaihof, the profoundly focused 2004 Steiner Hund Reserve for 75 pounds. For red I selected a 2002 Pommard "Premier Cru" Burgundy from Comte Armand which was delicious for 140 pounds. The list is a heavy 53 page tome, and full of the big names from France and Italy. Bargains are hard to find, but that wasn't really the point here at the Duck. I tend to resist wine pairings for long tasting menus, although I'm sure the Duck's was inventive. They were on to using sakes which was a good sign. The food was so original, however, that I didn't think we needed to be distracted by a sommelier prancing around like Martin Short's "Ed Grimley" character from SCTV, I must say.

TerraVin Tears Up Auckland

I first met Mike Eaton of TerraVin after drinking his 2004 Hillside Selection Pinot Noir at Gibbs Restaurant in Marlborough. Silky, aromatic, generous, yet balanced are words that spring to mind as I recall witnessing the wine blossom in the glass alongside a fantastic meal. The next morning I called Mike for the first time and we met and tasted through his range of wines. It was also the first time I saw his sweeping north-facing hillside vineyard responsible for the stuffing in that bottle I enjoyed the night before. It was a good meeting, one which caused me to miss my flight, but in the end was well worth it. Mike loves to talk about TerraVin and I was there to listen. Mike and Jo, his wife, are passionate about their wine. He's been a top viticulturist in Marlborough for decades now and has helped the region wake up to the potential of pinot noir and hillside plantings, much like Burgundy, with the establishment of the famous Clayvin site now owned by Fromm Wines. Mike also handles the winemaking duties at TerraVin quite deftly. A recent Wine Advocate issue scored many of his wines in the 90-94 range. A year later and TerraVin is now reentering the NY market with Sober Imports this Fall. I had the pleasure recently in Auckland of joining Mike and Jo at Vinnies Restaurant for a winemakers dinner. Renowned NZ wine writer, Michael Cooper, Cuisine Magazine's Food Editor, Lauraine Jacobs, and their wine and travel editor, Susan Buchanan, also joined the intimate dinner for 35 guests. Vinnie's chef and owner, Geoff Scott, and the Eatons designed a well thought out tasting menu to match the Terravin wine arsenal. The menu was as follows: Sashimi of gamefish, daikon & sorrel, himalayan salt & frozen leccino oil wine- Te Ahu sauvignon Semillon 2006; Ross sea toothfish tortellini & pernod poached northland scallops wine- Chardonnay 2007; Wild rabbit loin with pancetta, white butter beans & white truffle wine- Pinot gris 2007 & Pinot noir 2005; 14 hour poached cardrona lamb, panisse, fennel confit & butcher's sauce wine- Hillside Pinot noir 2004 & Hillside Reserve Pinot noir 2006; Vintage gouda souffle with spiced figs & walnut toast wine- J cabernet merlot malbec 2005; lime parfait, roast grapefruit, honey wafers & mandarin jelly wine- Noble sauvignon 2006. It was a terrific meal and really showed how well TerraVin works with food. I look forward to doing a similar type event in NYC one day. Look fast for TerraVin wines this October, since only small amounts of these handcrafted wines are created.

Waipara, New Zealand

Just north of Christchurch on New Zealand's South Island is an up and coming wine region called Waipara. Pegasus Bay has been shaping delicious pinot noir and riesling from this district for years, and now, finally, the rest of the world is starting to take notice. Waipara is overshadowed by Marlborough to the north and Central Otago to the south, but the rieslings and balanced pinots have captivated me for months now. Being an undervalued wine appellation isn't all that bad, at least from a selfish point of view. As a result there are some good values to be had for wine lovers willing to branch out into the New World. Two such producers are Weka River and The Crater Rim, both being imported into America by Sober Imports this Fall. These are exciting wines. Weka River, owned by well-known viticulturist Brent "Harry" Harris and Susan Laidlaw, makes hand crafted, deliciously floral pinot noirs and complex dry rieslings. Crater Rim, the passionate brainchild of Ben and Theo Coles, creates a point of difference with their Germanic-style rieslings and Bordelaise-style sauvignon blancs. Their pinot noirs from different regions are terroir driven and totally individualistic. There's not much of these wines made, so keep an eye out for them this October and try to get in on them early before they sell out. Pegasus Bay has a consistently good kitchen and lovely landscaped grounds. there is a bounty of great local food from here, and it's proximity to Christchurch bodes well for Waipara and the greater area known as Canterbury's development as a popular wine destination. There is an annual food and wine festival in March that highlights the 30 odd neighborhood producers. It's a special spot. I'm off to Auckland today, waiting for the fog to lift off rainy Adelaide. I will be travelling to Hawkes Bay, Marlborough, and Martinborough. I'll report back in the next few days.

McLaren Vale Rebounds

The sound of tractors and semi-trailers grumbling down the roads after midnight. The purple birdshit on the hood of my Jeep, and the sweet smell in the air of rotting grapes on the vineyard floor. These are just a few of the signs that vintage is here and in 2008 it has hit South Australia's McLaren Vale with a vengeance. Recent heat surges and a mid summer downpour have pushed sugar levels up at a rapid pace and has left many growers once again begging winemakers to harvest their grapes. The vineyards have rebounded with an abundant crop after last year's low yields. In fact, many small winemakers are struggling to find the space to take in the fruit. Just yesterday Wirra Wirra, one of McLaren Vale's top producers, had a major collapse of their stainless steel fermenters. Fortunately, nobody was seriously injured.

It has been over one year for me living down under. During that time I have met some great people, taken some trips, and now represent a McLaren Vale vineyard and wine called Thorpe. The Thorpe family has been in this region since the first settlers came in the early 1800's. That type of staying power commands respect. The owner of Thorpe Wines is Nicole Thorpe. She also presides over the family's primary business which is a water drilling company called Kangarilla Drilling(KD). There is an ironic element at play here. As a vigneron, a position historically notorious for heavy water usage, she has the power to supply water to a drought ravaged country. Townships have been known to line the streets clapping as the Kangarilla Drilling convoy arrives to begin drilling. These people are thirsty. KD is consistently in demand from grape growers who need water for their vines, as well, which explains why her company is booked 12 months in advance. Most other drilling rigs have headed to the mines up North, but she and her staff have remained to pick up the lion's share of the bore drilling business in South Australia. The planned arrival of a new drilling rig will only make her company stronger.

Thorpe Wines has made a few changes to its team since I jumped on board. None of which have made me very popular with the locals. The purchase of a flash new red Jeep has turned a few heads in the district. We replaced the previous vineyard manager with Peter Bolte, one of SA's brightest minds in the vineyard. This is Peter's 32nd vintage in the region, and he knows these vineyards like the back of his hand. It's always a challenge to wisely irrigate vines in this hot climate, and Peter understands the needs of the vine as well as anyone. We're lucky to be one of his private clients.

We also changed winemakers to a young Kiwi named Tim Geddes. Tim has made himself a solid reputation as the man behind the scenes of the now defunct Wayne Thomas Wines. He's now out on his own with his own "Geddes" label. His range of "Seldom Inn" reds and Geddes "Another Shiraz" are balanced and delicious wines. Exactly what we're looking for here at Thorpe. We are very excited to see what he can do with the 12 acres of shiraz and 5 acres of cabernet off the ideally situated Thorpe Vineyards.

The vineyard itself is a beauty. Within 5 klicks of the ocean, we get plenty of cool breezes to keep the mildew at bay and cool off the heat from the sun. We got all the fruit off the vines last week and safely crushed at Geddes winery in the Vale. Harvest time was at 4am 2 of the 3 days, which allows for cooler grape temps. The cooler the better, since you don't want things to begin to ferment before they get into a stable zone, meaning a ferment tank. It's a relief to see the fruit safe and sound for the moment. The juice is rich, but still has all those earthy elements that make Thorpe Wines taste like it came from Thorpe Vineyards. Progress of the 2008 vintage will be closely watched.

I'm heading to NYC at the end of March to introduce some wines from New Zealand, South Africa, and Australia. Things are moving along down here, in ways that seem out of my hands. There seems to be an external guide in life shepherding us in its own inscrutable direction. By occasionally losing control of your life, it's quite interesting and frightening to see where it takes you. Cutting myself loose from the NYC base camp and floating downstream has opened up a new world of surprisingly endless abundance.

Rites of Spring

It's springtime here in South Australia, and the people have come to life with a vengeance after a dark cool winter. The sun is bright and there seems to be a perpetual cool breeze blowing off the sea to keep my skin from feeling too hot. With the arrival of this warmer weather, and the end of John Howard and the general elections, the people of Oz have begun to play. Over the last month I've experienced a taste of the fun loving Aussies indoors and out. It's going to be a great summer here. The ocean becomes as clear and as blue hued as the Caribbean and you can drive on the beaches.

My house mate and beach house lord, Glenn Scott, took me and Nicole out to sea on his boat this weekend to fish for squid and to see the beautiful coastline south of Aldinga Beach. Glenn has lived on the ocean most of his life and is a fantastic tour guide and friend to have down here. The bright yellow boat was towed on an old blue tractor the two blocks to the water and dropped in without any hassle. We pulled in 8 squid which made a great meal and went swimming in a secluded bay that was as pristine as any found off Santorini. The water was cold and crystal clear and made a refreshing break from the heat of the day. 5 hours later we came back in, all roasted and weary from a day on the water. Now I really understand how beautiful and abundant the natural resources of this country are.

The day before we went to Yanni Pappas' vineyard to eat a spring lamb he was roasting and to celebrate the beginning of the new growing season. Pappas was featured earlier in the blog brandishing a shotgun he uses to shoot starlings. The fresh Greek salads and friendship led to another great day. We were the first to arrive and the last to leave.


A trip to Melbourne earlier in the week led to the sale of 1000's of cases of Thorpe Wines and we caught a great meal and spontaneous party at Gerald's Bar in North Carlton. The owner, Gerald Diffey, spins his own vinyl and cooks up whatever he wants in the kitchen. The place has a zeitgeist feel to it and is a must visit for anyone going to Melbourne. The food and wine are all fantastic and it surely will be a memorable event. During my last visit the crowd got down and jumped on the bar to dance to the beats. It all ended very late at somebody's pool.

I don't know what else is gonna happen here this summer, but I can't wait to see it unfold. This place is like the US was a hundred years ago, before heavy population and the end of our resources. Living here is as good an excuse for enjoying life that I can imagine at this point in time. All I need now is to gather the courage to climb up on that proverbial bar with a bottle and watch the rest of the world go down.

Blue/Green Ice and Lady Fleur

Where do I begin with New Zealand?

I had been working up on the North Island, where business supposedly gets done here, in both Auckland and Wellington. These two cities are populated by over half of the four million people who live in this scenic country. Some good restaurants and importers reside in Auckland, and I did all I could to visit all of them with my Thorpe Wines. I also had a thorough visit to Kumeu River and had ham and split pea soup with proprietor Melba and Michael Brajkovich, her winemaking son. Chardonnay not too far off in style from Puligny, that stalwart Burgundian chardonnay village. I got some good feedback about my wine, made some solid contacts, and decided to head to the South Island for a closer squiz (look) at the wine regions.
As soon as I got off the ferry and into my car, I pointed it towards Marlborough. As a wine buyer I had tasted a lot of NZ "sevvy" (kiwi slang for sauvignon blanc), however, recently I'd been drinking gallons of shiraz in SA and was pleasantly surprised by the refreshing acidity of these well made whites. I intentionally got lost driving amongst the vines with the soft tan hills folding in the background. I spotted Fromm Winery and had heard they were a point of difference since they eschewed sevvy, and made pinot and syrah. The winemaker there, William Hoare, heard me chatting with the cellar door lady and asked me where I was from. Next thing I knew we were outside and he was describing the geology of the valley, where the best sevvy came from and why pinot worked so well in this microclimate to the southwest of Cloudy Bay. Then we were tasting barrel samples and the word Burgundy came up again and again. They make delicious pinots (yes, Burgundian, particularly the Clayvin) and syrahs reminiscent of Hermitage in the Northern Rhone. A very good first visit, and totally unplanned.
From there it was lunch at Highfield, then a drop by Spy Valley and Cloudy Bay, just because. Ironically, Cloudy Bay was out of sauvignon blanc, their bread and butter, for another 6 weeks.
After Cloudy Bay, I gunned it to Christchurch to meet Duncan Wilcox co-owner of London Street Restaurant, one of the loyal Thorpe supporters in NZ, and a restaurateur/ex-pat. Duncan also has a wicked cellar, and he was generous enough to open a 1990 Chateau Rayas Chateauneuf du Pape that was aged to perfection. On the floor of my guestroom, behind the door, he had lined up his casual drinking wines for the week. They were some of the icons of Burgundy, the Rhone, and Bordeaux from brilliant years. It was here that I learned the true meaning of the word "restraint". It was here also, and more importantly perhaps, that I heard about Fleur's Place a few hours south along the east coast from his girlfriend and gifted cartoonist, Alex Hallatt.

Fleur Sullivan was a restaurateur in the old sense of the word. She worked hard and has a deft touch with people. Her place on the bay in Moeraki became well known because she stood up to the fishing practices of the region, which were geared towards Japanese exports, and demanded that she got the best fish first. She won and I was hooked. It's the kind of place where a combination of locals and visitors collide and real fireworks are possible. The place rocked. I was there on a Saturday night and a Frenchman and Fleur's chef, named Gilbert, caught wind that I was in the wine biz and joined me for a bottle or two and a chat. He liked the Fromm "Clayvin" pinot noir I opened for him. He said, "finally something that doesn't taste like a lollipop." I think what he really meant to say was that it reminded him of his home, many miles away: Burgundy. This gift made all the difference, however, since it opened the door to a conversation only a chef and sommelier could have about the current state of food and wine. He accepted my invitation to stay at my table. He ordered some cheese, another bottle was opened (one of his favorites a 2004 "Rock 'n' Pillar" pinot from Central Otago), and I was let into the inner circle. I had a great meal of a Blue Nose fish and cabbage with bacon in a cider sauce. Then I watched with amusement as everyone danced and drank the chilly night away under billions of stars out in the middle of nowhere in this little fishing village of Moeraki. And everyone looked completely at home.

I was off the next day to see Gilbert's nemesis for myself, the home of "lollipop" pinot noir; Central Otago.

Finding Fire in Tasmania

In Tasmania, the island south of Melbourne off Australia's southern coast, finding an open log fire isn't as easy as you'd think. It's pretty bloody cold in Tasmania this time of the year. Hiking through the rugged beauty of the state lends itself well to sitting by a fire and drinking. The problem is that fires cause pollution, and the greenies in Tassie are getting people to trade their fireplaces in in exchange for 500 dollars. I can't explain my obsession with trying to sit by a fire or get a room with one. All I know is I wanted one, and part of the reason for my firestarter inklings had to do with the crystalline natural beauty of Tasmania.

The coastline along the Tasman Peninsula is as dramatic as any I've ever seen. The ocean has torn it down over time and the face of the cliffs resembles a cut piece of steak. Taking in the cold wind and the salt spray begins to chill your bones after awhile. The best fireplace award goes to the New Sydney Hotel in Hobart. It's a great pub in the old Irish sense of the word, and they stuff the fireplace to the gills. Fortunately, the Taswegians also make a lot of good wine and the seafood is some of the best around; especially the oysters and mussels. Winter means big fat mussels and firm crisp oysters, and I had more than my share of both. Everywhere we ordered oysters, the waiter would point out the window when I asked where they came from. Places like Norfolk Bay, Bay of Fires, and Moulting Bay were just a few of the standouts. I had three different mussel preparations. Mussels in a dill curry coconut broth with asian greens and rice noodles from The Mussel Boys was perfect. Amulet in N.Hobart also had a superb preparation stewing the bivalves in local apple cider and cream with house cured fish and Thorpe Farm pink eyed potatoes. This one was washed down with a 2006 Chartley Estate pinot gris, one of the prime examples of delicate aromatic whites from the Tamar River region up north. Also a difficult wine to get your hands on, many people were giving their eye teeth for a bottle.
This island is known for making cool climate wines, both finely etched whites and smokey pinot noirs to accompany the fresh fruits of the sea and the wonderful venison and lamb. Cabernet and shiraz don't fare so well here, it's too cold, but pinot noir seems to love the long, cool dry summers. We had a beautiful pinot from spacious Three Wishes Vineyard up north in the Tamar, all chocolate mint and cinnamon. I think the best of them, however, came from near the Freycinet Peninsula, home of Wineglass Bay, along the East Coast. Brian Franklin's Apsley Gorge Pinot Noir was one of the best. He established a winery in an old fish factory at The Gulch in Bicheno. With superb views over the ocean and the fishing boats bringing in fresh harvest of lobster and scallops the winery has to be one of the most spectacular in the world. Franklin is passionate about his pinot and chard, and he spends a few months every year helping Phillipe Charlopin harvest and vinify in Burgundy. His wines reflected his zeal, the pinot soft and sensuous, the chardonnay all lemon curd and toffee.

As my friend Nicole and I moved around the Eastern half of the island, we gathered information about good restaurants, wineries, and lodgings. This was the best way to go, since we met fellow wine and food lovers that relished the chance to point us in the right direction. In fact, Tasmania's a pretty small place when you come right down to it, and especially when you narrow it down to food and wine destinations. Quite often we ran into the same people two or three times in different places.
It was pretty amusing. One of the places we heard about from various sources was the Blue Bell Inn in Sorrell. We were to arrive later in the evening and had requested a fire to warm up by after a day out in the elements around Port Arthur. We got there a little later than we expected, and the owners, Marlene and Barry Gooding, tried to ask us politely to pass on the fire, since they wouldn't be able to sleep well if they knew that a fire was blazing upstairs. I couldn't be dissuaded and the New Yorker in me came out. "Marlene, I hear what you're saying, but for 150 bucks, we're going to light that fire." And we did.
Fortunately, I wasn't too rude, because Marlene became a wonderful guide for us, pointing us towards Angasi Restaurant to the North on stunning Binalong Bay (I've seen water this blue in Greece, but never this cold) and the Banc Restaurant in Swansea. And everybody knew the Blue Bell Inn, as well.

At the Banc, where we first tried Apsley Gorge, the owner, Lee Bailey, gave us the number of Mandy Burbury. This is a perfect example of how friendly and helpful the people are. Mandy is a wine lover who consults and writes in Swansea. She met us the next morning and actually interviewed Nicole and me for her newspaper column she writes for Tasmania Country. I hope she found us interesting. The house she lived in was one of the oldest on the island, built in the 1830s, and was still in pretty good shape. We spoke of the rising tide of interest in Tassie wines. She seemed to be in a position to help the small producers, since many of them had no idea how to market or export their wines. She also got us in touch with Brian Franklin, one of the partners in her export comany and Apsley Gorge winemaker. I look forward to doing some business with her. She also suggested we visit the artisan winemaker, Dr. John Austwick, at Craigie Knowe winery.

Dr. John Austwick is a former dentist turned winemaker and the kind of guy you love to meet. Iconoclastic to say the least, Austwick has been around the block a few times and runs a loose, quirky and totally self sufficient winery. Craigie Knowe wines are pinot noir and cabernet, the latter which he shapes into the Bordelaise style. In his opinion, Bordeaux, like the 82 Lynch Bages, are the best wines in the world. We smelled a couple of whites he had in stainless steel barrels that were shocking, but he really does make nice cabs, and the pinots were as perfumed and lacey as any Chambolle. I noticed an old dog-eared copy of Emile Peynaud's "Knowing and Making Wine" lying open on his table. As we left him, he rolled a cigarette, informed us he now has his first internet address, and that we were welcome to return anytime: just honk.

A few days later as we walked along the Hobart waterfront, Nicole bumped into a McLaren Vale winemaker, Peter Dennis, and his local sales rep in Tassie, Mick. We sat down for a coffee, and we told them of our travels, hitting close to 30 wineries and some of the best hotels and restaurants in the state. Nick laughed when we mentioned Craigie Knowe. Apparently Dr. John was his dentist as a child. He never used novocaine, and Mick said the experience was so painful that he hasn't been back to a dentist since. As he said, "John Austwick is a much better winemaker than dentist." How odd to meet one of his patients so randomly, but that's Tasmania for you. There's a running joke on the mainland about inbreeding on Tassie, which may be true, but it does feel like everybody knows each other somewhere down the line.
Everybody knows everybody else's business here, and should you one day visit this pristine island, you will see what I mean. Just remember to bring your electric blanket.

Lamb, Lies, and Precipitation

There is a lot going on down here. So much so that I haven't been able to sit down and write because everything keeps evolving too quickly. It's an exciting time to be in South Australia. The company I'm working with, currently called R Winery, is growing at a break-neck speed. They're tripling their production this year, entering into new markets, launching new brands, moving into a larger winery, and collaborating with new winemakers. South Australia is a small wine making community when it comes right down to it, and there is an almost Peyton Place like atmosphere at times: wife swapping in McLaren Vale, adultery in the Barossa, and, of course, irresponsible watering habits uber alles. There's a reason, after all, that South Australia has the highest murder rate in the world.

R Winery, however, is in the fortunate position to be working with some of the best talent in South Australia, mainly due to its direct relationship with the wildly successful Grateful Palate (GP), importer of fine Aussie wines to the US, and their roster of outstanding viticulturists, winemakers, and vineyards. I spent the morning with R's viticulturist Trevor K. in McLaren Vale.
We drove to one of the Shirvington vineyards, famous for shiraz and cabernet, as well as a refuge for eagles, kangaroos, brown snakes, 700 year old gum trees, and former winemaker/pariah Sparky Marquis, the controversial winemaker whose heavy handed, and in the end, dangerous irrigation techniques caused much divisiveness amongst many of his peers. These beautiful vineyards, according to Mark Shirvington "narrowly escaped devastation".


Vintage seems to be in good shape in McLaren Vale, assuming you used some water at the right time after winter. The dry grown vines I saw had no fruit whatsoever. Fantastic producers, like Noon Winery, looked barren. It wasn't until last night that the rains came.
It hadn't rained since May, and the crickets were going nuts.

After a meeting discussing the successful switch to a more versatile facility in Langhorne Creek and the strategies for approaching the logistics of the vintage, I joined Rachel and Alberto at celebrated winemaker Chris Ringland's house for some delicious Spanish style lamb and potatoes. The potatoes were perfectly fried in about a liter of extra virgin olive oil from Barossa's Torzi Matthews. Amazing.

The kind of food and wine experience that takes you through the portal.