“Sod the wine, I want to suck on the writing. This man White is an instinctive writer, bloody rare to find one who actually pulls it off, as in still gets a meaning across with concision. Sharp arbitrage of speed and risk, closest thing I can think of to Cicero’s ‘motus continuum animi.’

Probably takes a drink or two to connect like that: he literally paints his senses on the page.”


DBC Pierre (Vernon God Little, Ludmila’s Broken English, Lights Out In Wonderland ... Winner: Booker prize; Whitbread prize; Bollinger Wodehouse Everyman prize; James Joyce Award from the Literary & Historical Society of University College Dublin)


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Showing posts with label Hardy's. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hardy's. Show all posts

09 January 2011

CONSTELLATION STARS CRASH IN OZPLONK

THE GRAND OLD CHATEAU REYNELLA WINERY IN McLAREN VALE; FORMER HQ OF NEW YORK MARAUDERS THE SANDS BROTHERS, UPSTATE NEW YORK RUBES WHO NEVER GRASPED THE HARD REALITIES OF WINEMAKING IN AUSTRALIA'S WILD FRONTIER, WHERE ONLY THE SMART AND THE TRUE SURVIVE PROFITABLY - photo KATE ELMES


Bad Business Butchers Bush Wrong Sands In Our Wineglass Fosters Faces Devalued Assets
by PHILIP WHITE

This is a story of how changing climate, political skulduggery, disastrous public relations and general business ineptitude is destroying what many have long seen to be Australia's greatest agricultural export success.

There has never been a vintage quite like 2011. The calamitous matter of international oversupply aside, Australia’s wine business is a sodden, mouldy husk of its old budding beauty, with great swathes of its traditional lifeblood rotting on the vine because our mightiest ethanol peddlers (read transnational winemakers) refuse to pay the cost price for grapes.

This is coincident with the big chemical manufacturers and importers deciding that nobody could afford to pay for their fungicides because atop the insulting prices offered for fruit, the lack of irrigation water had broken the growers' financial backs. So these chemical traders neither imported or manufactured sufficient fungicide spray to deal with the country's current plague of moulds and mildews.

To help ease this crisis, the irrigated wine business, through the Winemakers Federation of Australia, has even negotiated a temporary relaxation of Canada’s severe restrictions on Australia’s use of phosphorous acid as a fungicide, so the mildew which too much rain and flood has set blooming all the way from Blanchetown to Burke can perhaps be limited and wine exports to Canada will remain unimpeded.

If they're lucky.

China has also been approached for a similar deal, but, perhaps wisely, refuses to respond. China has its own burgeoning wine business, and will soon be exporting cheap wine to Australia.

However you see it in the meantime, that rather vainglorious appellation which some genius, for want of a more precise term, called “South Eastern Australia”, is cactus. At a time of the most destructive irrigation restrictions ever, a deadly percentage of the vineyard in this vast appellation, equal in size to Portugal, Spain, France, Germany and Italy combined, is wet, mouldy and rotting.

The current disastrous floods are only the latest derisive insult to the many thousands of struggling bush families the wine industry is in the business of wrecking.

Otherwise, the season is nearly perfect: the cool wet start has set the better regions up beautifully; ongoing moderate breezy weather ensures the smart cookies who’ve done everything right will get some exemplary fruit. Only the jaundiced take joy suggesting the rotten side of the crop will assist clear the welling lake of unsold swill: only the idiot suggests the sweaty hands steering the industry’s confounding array of governing councils have solved the problem by their own cunning design.

Two of the most inelegant words in the history of English summarise the situation perfectly.

The first, “premiumise”, is the creation of the propaganda unit of the Sands brothers of upstate New York, the men who run Constellation, the world’s biggest wine company until a few minutes ago. They have been “premiumising” their ethanol mongery for a couple of years now, trimming it in the hope it will look better.

The wise observer (barely seen in the international business pages), the comfortably jaundiced, and even the idiot, must agree that “premiumise” seems to mean “hope to charge more for the same old same old”.

The second word, “demerger”, is the new form of “dismantle”, “dismember”, “flay”, or “gut”. It is the creation of the propagandists at Fosters, which intends to rip apart the huge wine and beer businesses it had only just completed “merging”, which always seemed to mean “crash senselessly and illogically together”.

This closely followed the disastrous “merging” of Southcorp with Rosemount, where, disguised as a white knight, Bob “Wild Oats” Oatley walked away with one or two billion, leaving his punchdrunk monolith sitting pretty for Fosters to gobble and rename.

Both “premiumise” and “demerger” are rather quaint negligees for that haggard old whore we once called greed. But these current captains of the ethanol racket can’t even successfully commit greed.

Take Constellation. In 2003, it spent AUD$1.9 billion erecting the Australian winemaking and United Kingdom distribution show it has just dropped for AUD$290 million, although the Sands boys have thrown some snakes in the murky water by insisting they’ll retain a 20% slice of the action, which means they’ll pick up only AUD$230 million “subject to closing adjustments".

Having confidently predicted their determination to get the hell out of Australia two years ago, this writer sees no joy other than cruel ridicule in any of this: in their retreat they clumsily butchered the main bits of their “premium” involvement, the grand old wineries of Chateau Reynella and Tintara. At the former, they last year destroyed a heritage-listed vineyard (below) at least the historical equivalent of Grange or Hill of Grace to make a quick $5 million in a rude housing malignancy; the latter, Tintara, the last winery to survive in the main street of McLaren Vale, they mothballed.

DEPREMIUMISED: THE HERITAGE LISTED JOHN REYNELL VINEYARD DESTROYED BY CONSTELLATION LAST YEAR - photo KATE ELMES

These two deft actions alone cost them much much more than $5 million of goodwill.

After the Reynella destruction, few would dare to permit their interference with Tintara’s heritage status.

One could be forgiven for suspecting that these people have no idea of the common meaning of premium.

A particularly sickly exemplar was their involvement in the USA Merlot racket. Most Americans seemed to think Merlot meant “mellow sweet red” until a schmucky Hollywood film suddenly made Merrrllow soooo yesterday that everybody needed something else to drink, immediately. The movie suggested Pinot noir, so, with Gallo (suddenly the world’s biggest wine company, again), the Sands lads unwittingly got themselves entangled in a scam in which they bought Pinot noir made from south of France Merlot and Shiraz.

This was much easier than mastering the notoriously tricky red grape of Burgundy, but, until the French wine police picked the scab off the racket, America loved it. They were ignorantly drinking the same swill they thought they’d fashionably abandoned, indicating the incredible naïve vulnerability of ethanol addicts who imagine themselves to be epicures and gourmands. Sideways, see?

To rub all this in, the scrillion tonnes of salt the Murray-Darling floods are about to unsettle will be just dandy for curing the wounds Fosters has incurred in its parallel disaster.

Before he jumps ship (as promised), Fosters CEO Ian Johnston will settle David Dearie into the hot seat at Treasury (the new name their propagandists thought up for their wine division), and CUB CEO John Pollard into the beer biz (which should be a cruise, comparatively).

Apart from the brilliant success of Penfolds, the rest of the Treasury wine lake could do with some serious premiumising, but you wouldn’t follow the example set by the Sands brothers.
David Dearie starts his year looking down the backwards telescope of the Sands’ imposed evaluation of the very ordinary end of Treasury’s Noah’s Ark of brands. These stretch from Andrew Garrett (really) to Queen Adelaide (currently in a gay resurrection), and Kaiser Stuhl to Wolf Blass (both of which Fosters has for years listed as Mildura wineries in the Australian Wine Directory).

Mildura is sinking.

If these treasured assets were worth anything last vintage, all the above has seen their value plummet by about the same sickening lurch the Sands brothers have stupidly engineered themselves.

Both these demergers could use some retrospective premiumising. If it had occurred, it could have been called logical and moral propriety, or perhaps even good business, subject to closing adjustments.

SOME BACKGROUND

As through this life you ramble
You’ll meet some funny men

Some will rob you with a six gun

And some with a fountain pen.


- Woody Guthrie

The Sands brothers, of upstate New York, obviously enjoy being seen, on their home patch, as men who respect culture, heritage, and the arts. As well as promoting their awards for community service in these areas, they are proud to pay big money to have their name on the Constellation Brands Marvin Sands Performing Arts Center in their home town of Canandaigua, near the Finger Lakes.

Their propaganda boasts that “The Friends of the Constellation Brands-Marvin Sands Performing Arts Center, Inc (CMAC) is a New York not-for-profit, 501(c)(3) corporation that was formed to assume responsibility for financial operation of CMAC. CMAC supports the mission to improve the quality of life in our community through culture, education and the arts.”

Artists like Willie Nelson, the Levon Helm Band, Robert Cray, Maroon 5, Cheryl Crowe, George Thorogood, Ringo Starr, and the Fabulous Thunderbirds are regular headliners there.

Not to mention a group aptly named Shit Is Fucked.

These people are totally unaware of the cultural destruction the Sands boys have wrought on McLaren Vale, South Australia, the former home of the enormous Australian wine empire they bought, built and butchered in seven quick years.

Just a couple of years back, Constellation’s PR troops were working hard on their “premiumizing”. They boasted of having “defined three areas in which all of its Corporate Social Responsibility focus will take place: sustainable business practices, philanthropy and social responsibility. From these three focus areas flow specific categories of emphasis, including our environmental impact, corporate giving, marketing and advertising codes, community involvement and much more. All of Constellation's social responsibility efforts flow directly from its values and culture."

But, apart from sacking hundreds of faithful workers at their heritage wineries of Reynella and Tintara they last year destroyed one of South Australia’s oldest commercial vineyards, and one which historically was at least as important as the Grange vineyard at Magill Estate, Langmeil’s The Freedom at Tanunda (probabaly the wold's oldest producing Shiraz vineyard), Kalimna near Nuriootpa (the world's oldest producing Cabernet vineyard), and the Hill of Grace near Keyneton.

Constellation made a measly AUD$5 million with the sale.

Just how this occurred is a vivid example of how Australia’s Labor governments, whose leaders seem to yearn to display business acumen not usually evident in the left, are transfixed by flash Harries much more expert at taking money and property from weaker and more vulnerable others.

Constellation hired a little-known historian to contradict years of its own sales hype - and decades of it from BRL-Hardy and Chateau Reynella before they were purchased - which had promoted this vineyard as an invaluable and irreplaceable cornerstone of the history and heritage of the Australian wine story. Together with the master fudgers of the Onkaparinga Council (the local government) and the soft cocks of the State Heritage Branch (State government), they managed to use this expert’s cheaply-bought advice to have the vineyard’s Heritage listing expunged.

ARIEL VIEW OF THE FORMER CONSTELLATION JEWEL AND HEADQUARTERS AT CHATEAU REYNELLA. THIS DISTRICT, WITH ITS PRICELESS ANCIENT GEOLOGIES, WAS ONCE CARPETED WITH DRY-GROWN VINEYARDS.

The photograph above shows the Chateau Reynella complex, and its surrounding vineyards. The large stony vineyard on the slopes to the right is the inferior one, and has been so regarded since John Reynell’s day. The smaller one (2 hectares - marked with the ellipse) bordered the heritage village of Old Reynella, was sold to the developer, Pioneer Homes, to build 41 apartments there on blocks averaging 22 x 22 metres.

Ebenezer Ward was the wine critic on The Advertiser in South Australia in 1862, preceding me by 126 years. Having visited Reynell Farm in that year, he wrote “Thus his [John Reynell’s] vineyard on the hilly land is confined to the Clarendon sorts, The Rousillon, and the Verdeilho. The Carbonet – a variety which, for the quality of its produce, cannot be too highly valued – Mr. Reynell has planted in another vineyard which he formed in 1848 on the flat bordering the creek, and where the soil is a black alluvial deposit on the surface, with a red loam subsoil. In this vineyard there are also Malbec and Shiraz … we thought a wine made from an admixture of Malbec and Carbonet best of all.”

In spite of this published first-hand report, and those many years of praising the vineyard’s significant history, Constellation managed to have the vineyard’s heritage listing removed.

JOHN REYNELL'S OLD CHATEAU REYNELLA HOMESTEAD, THE FORMER HEAD OFFICE OF BRL-HARDY - CONSTELLATION STRIPPED IT OF ITS ANTIQUES A YEAR AGO AND SOLD THEM AT A PITTANCE - photo - KATE ELMES

This occurred when they convinced the powers that be that the hill vineyard was indeed the most significant.

Part of the decision seems to have been justified by confusing the lower vineyard’s name. Somewhere in its recent history, amidst a peculiarly Australian fashion of naming export wines after hills and ridges which usually did not exist (Australia is famously flat) somebody gave the lower site the misnomer, “Stony Hill”, a strange appellation considering its proximity to the adjacent hill, which is indeed stony.

The lower vineyard also had a highly-significant viticultural importance, being the source of what was for years erroneously called “the Reynella clone” of Cabernet sauvignon, a superior strain of the variety which has been favoured, even revered, and propagated all over Australia for its superior flavour.

When I asked Geoff Hardy, the last formidable viticulturist of the Hardy tribe, about this, he explained "Noel Chapman was the architect of the current Reynell selection (not clone) which he told me was a process of elimination through three generations of plantings and he told me it was most recently from about 7 separate mother vines. We know that at least one of these is quite virus affected but I suspect it is two, without having done the testing. I understand the ‘current’ Reynell selection is the older Stony Hill planting (1968?) and this is where I have sourced perhaps 400 acres of planting material from, propagated or distributed through my own nursery business and this is the tip of the iceberg in an Australian sense.

"As regards naming the Stony Hill block I think Noey told me this was his doing because of the limestone in the higher part but my memory is very vague on this. Apparently there’s no mention of Stony Hill’s existence in Margaret Hopton’s significant writings on the Reynell family.

"The block has produced some great wine that I know of but I lost contact with its quality ratings in the late eighties.

"It certainly has a lot of history and is in the wrong hands at the moment."


These comments were backed up by Andrew Hardy, another significent member of the great winemaking family, and managing winemaker of Petaluma.

Chris Hackett, a former Reynella winemaker said that in his day the Cabernet from that block was the best in the winery every vintage and that when he attempted to buy the vineyard the owner dared not let it go.

But subsequently, when Constellation was attempting to convince the diaspora of the Hardy family to buy Reynella and Tintara back, all significant members of the family suddenly clammed up, and withdrew support from the burgeoning movement to save the vineyard. This could simply have been at the urging of Bill Hardy, the last senior member of the tribe to remain employed by Constellation, and the person wheeled out internationally to give the company an air of history and continuing family involvement.

His famous mother, Barbara Hardy, a revered and highly-awarded conservationist, green activist, and heritage enthusiast, also remained silent.

The death knell came when the McLaren Vale Grape Wine and Tourism Association flatly refused to support the vineyard’s retention. This association had long enjoyed the major funding supplied by Hardy’s, BRL-Hardy, and then Constellation, and seemed blind to the reality that the world’s biggest wine company was determinedly pulling out of the district, to concentrate on buying much cheaper, inferior fruit from the irrigated arid lands of the Australia outback, which were even then under severe and ongoing threat due to the abuse and over-allocation of dwindling irrigation water.

Perversely, these areas are now facing freak floods the like of which have not been seen for a century.

In response to a letter from New Zealand journalist, Sally Marden, urging the retention of the Reynell vineyard, Dudley Brown, Chairman of the McLaren Vale Grape Wine And Tourism Association, and a grapegrower who had depended on Constellation’s contract for his fruit, wrote “as our Association represents the interests of multiple industries, we have long had a policy of not commenting on commercial matters of members or disputes between industry groups except to the extent that they violate the law.

“Constellation’s forerunner company, Hardy’s, has been a member of our association in good standing since the inception of our forerunner bodies.

“We have and continue to actively lobby on matters of urban encroachment in our region (including the recent Glenthorne Farm matter) where and when we can.”

Independent State parliamentarian David Winderlich told the Legislative Council “According to Onkaparinga council, the vineyard was removed from the state heritage list by the Department for Environment and Heritage. This is a very strange decision, because the vineyard clearly meets at least three of the seven criteria for listing under the state’s Heritage Places Act: it demonstrates important aspects of the evolution or pattern of the state’s history; it is an outstanding representative of a particular class of places of cultural significance; and it has a special association with the life or work of a person or organisation or an event of historical importance.

“To delist such an important part of our history for such a small gain, 41 homes—we are not talking about this vineyard blocking the development of Roxby [Roxby Downs, the world’s largest uranium mine], for example—raises the concern that nothing is safe. It also raises questions about the integrity of the heritage listing process.”

Local independent parliamentarian Kris Hanna, chairman of the Reynell Business and Tourism Association, said the development would “wreck the place ... The site has been used continuously as vineyards since about 1840 and we’d like to see it preserved as vineyards as a tribute to our early history ... there’s a growing feeling among residents that the senior management at Constellation aren’t concerned with the history of the area or the locals,” he said.

Leon Bignell, a highly-popular parliamentarian from the district, was even more overt in his rage.

"This vital historic vineyard is symbolic of the whole district", he said on ABC TV.

"Gutter to gutter housing is something that belongs in the inner city suburbs where people want to live like that, close to the parklands and the city amenities and the high-rise offices where they're happy to work.

THE AUTHOR AT THE GATE OF THE OLD VINEYARD, JUST WEEKS BEFOTRE ITS DESTRUCTION - photo KATE ELMES

"It's like sub-dividing The Grange," he said. "Putting this sort of development on John Reynell's old block is like putting multi-storey flats on the site of the Old Gum Tree at Glenelg, or like crushing the first FJ Holden for scrap. We've already lost too much beautiful grape-growing land to tupperware tuscany housing. And that's a special piece of soil, Reynell's last block: if you read your history you'll see that ground is perfect for premium vineyard and the unique flavours those soils give, which is why Reynell planted there in the first place. It's a dumb move, and while it's not in my electorate, I'll do whatever I can to stop it."

Bignell’s colleague, Planning and Development Minister Paul Holloway, had seemed in full support when he had earlier promised ABC radio “because the Barossa Valley and McLaren Vale are important economic areas of the state, because they’re wine regions, also significant tourism regions, it would not make sense to have urban encroachment to a significant extent into those areas. So we’ll avoid those areas and the areas that we’ll be looking at for future expansion are those areas where there’ll be less impact on the important tourism and economic areas. So yes we do recognise those areas but look it’s simple common sense: why would you want to encroach on areas that are important to the economy because of the significant contribution that they make to the state’s economy through the wine industry and the tourism industry? Clearly that would be put at threat if we allowed rampant urban development within those areas.”

But it was his government which overthrew the heritage listing, and saw the Pioneer Homes developers bulldoze the heritage left by Reynell, a true pioneer.

Now, at Reynella, since Constellation’s departure, the gate to more destruction swings dangerously open. All it will take is the new owner to suggest that the destroyed vineyard was erroneously removed from its heritage status, and was indeed the more significant, meaning the remaining hill vineyard can now be replaced with housing.

And the old ironstone Tintara winery in the main street of the McLaren Vale township is looking awfully like a nice place for more villa rash.

The best summary of all this is the name of that aforementioned rock band.

EBENEZER WARD'S 1862 REPORT

EBENEZER WARD


THE township of Reynella is about 13 miles from Adelaide, on the Great South-road. The section on which the Crown hostelrie, the Reynella Mills, store &c., now stand was originally taken up by Mr. Reynell in 1838, and he has resided in the locality ever since. His present residence is barely a quarter of mile south-east of the township, on a slight eminence rising from Peel’s Creek. He has now about 450 acres of land in his possession, and in its management he aims at a combination of vine-growing, grazing and farming. He has 15 acres of vines, 2 of orchard and garden, about 100 under crop, and the remainder of the estate is fenced off for grazing.

Mr. Reynell commenced planting 21 years ago, when a considerable portion of the present orchard was formed. A few vine-cuttings from Tasmania were planted at the same time, and three years afterwards wine was made from them. The vineyard proper dates from 1844, when half an acre was planted with cuttings from Mr. Anstey’s. In the following season four-and-a-half acres were planted with cuttings obtained from the Macarthurs, of New South Wales, and the sorts recommended in “Maro’s” letters – viz., the Verdielho, Carbonet, Malbec, Pineau Gris, and Gouais. The situation, however, was too dry, and the soil too light, for most of these varieties to bear largely there, and a number of them have been already superseded. One acre of Pineau Gris has been grubbed up, the Rousillon varieties have been previously planted alternately with the rows of Pineau, and the Rousillon have also been grafted on the Carbonet. In 1847 and 1848 Mr. Reynell obtained cuttings of the white sorts from the Clarendon Vineyard – viz., Pedro Ximines, Doradilla, Temprana, Palo-mino-blanco, &c.: and since then he has planted a considerable extent with the Rousillons.

JOHN REYNELL

Thus his vineyard on the hilly land is chiefly confined to the Clarendon sorts, the Rousillon, and the Verdielho. The Carbonet -- a variety which, from the quality of its produce, cannot be too highly valued – Mr. Reynell has planted in another vineyard which he formed in 1848 on the flat bordering the creek, and where the soil is a black alluvial deposit on the surface, with a red loam subsoil. In this vineyard there are also Malbec and Shiraz to mix with the Carbonet, the Rousillon sorts, and (planted in 1861) Frontignac, Verdeilho, and Riesling. None of Mr. Reynell’s vines are either staked or trellised, and the Rousillon sorts appear very well able to support themselves. The Verdielho have a more straggling growth, but Mr. Reynell thinks the cost of staking is greatly in excess of the advantage to be gained. Throughout the vineyard the rows are 6 feet apart, and the vines at from 4 to 5 feet in the rows. The vineyard has a northern to north-eastern aspect, and is well sheltered on the south and west. The ground between the rows is stirred with horse-hoe or plough two or three times every season, and is flanked with rows of almond trees planted for shelter. On the highest point of the hill the soil is very sandy; but on the lower slopes it is a good red loam on the surface, with a sprinkling of ironstone intermixed, and the subsoil is chiefly composed of friable limestone. Mr. Reynell has about 40 acres of this kind of land at a sufficient elevation above the creek to be secure from frosts, but he unwilling to increase his vineyard very largely until there is a prospect of our wines being admitted to the Melbourne markets without an import duty. We certainly hope the day is not far distant when our friends across the border will be wise and magnanimous enough to reduce very much, or altogether remove, the present impost. The apple- and pear-trees in the orchard are some of the largest we have seen in the colony. We noticed there a tree of the indiarubber variety, which was obtained from Sydney 20 years ago, and has grown to great size. It is an evergreen, and the foliage has an elegant appearance. A few orange-trees have been planted near the creek. Several years ago Mr. Reynell made a pure wine from the Pineau Gris. It is now perfectly matured, and has been highly spoken of by connoisseurs. His Verdielho is also remarkably good, but we thought a wine made from an admixture of Malbec and Carbonet best of all.

- from Ebenezer Ward’s Vineyards & Orchards Of South Australia 1862.

REYNELL'S OLD VINEYARD AS IT WAS, VIEWED THROUGH THE RAZOR WIRE FROM CONSTELLATION'S FORMER HEADQUARTERS - photo KATE ELMES

REYNELLA - by Ernest Whitington, The Register, 1903

The cellars here are the property of Mr. Walter Reynell, who has always taken a keen interest in the wine industry. I believe one of his missions on his present trip to England is to see if he cannot do something to find increased markets for our wine. All vignerons pray that he might be successful. Mr. Reynell’s oldest son was superintending vintage operations when I arrived. The make this year was expected to be between 80,000 and 85,000 gallons. In the winery there are 28 fermenting tanks, each of a capacity of 1,500 gallons. The water for cooling is run down from an underground tank on the top of the hill. After passing through the coils in the fermenting tanks the water is run over eight canvas trays, which have a fan playing on them, and then down into the well, the source whence it first came. The canvas cooling machine cools the water to 60 degrees. There are two gable-roofed storage cellars running parallel to one another, and when the occasion arises the space between will be covered in and converted into a cellar. In the first cellar there are 16 3,000 gallon jarrah vats, and in the second 20 similar receptacles, as well as 300-gallon casks and hogsheads. Altogether there is 170,000 gallons in store. The old cellar, which is 40 years old, is right under the ground. The roof is of logs and earth overgrown with grass, and presents a very picturesque appearance. M. Reynell has 150 acres in bearing at Reynella and 120 acres at Riverton and Magill. The grapes from these vineyards are treated at Reynella, while Mr. Reynell buys from 15 or 16 growers in the district.

- from The South Australian Vintage 1903, by Ernest Whitington

28 January 2009

STATION BIT OF BANROCK DRYING RIGHT UP







Constellation Repackages Its Green Hero

No Mention Of The Death Of Our River

by PHILIP WHITE

Constellation, the genius transnational which decided to do away with the Hardy’s brand which was much beloved by Australians for generations, is using Australia Day to relaunch its Banrock Station brand in Britain.


The accent will now go more on Banrock and less on Station, probably indicating there will be less dependence on the tired old Murray Valley sheep station for fruit.


Constellation says the new bottle frocks “will reinforce the eco credentials of this top ten UK wine brand”.

The new design shows a tree growing from a wine bottle to reinforce the slogan ‘Good Earth - Fine Wine'.


The bottle image will also be featured on Banrock’s three litre bladder packs.


Today’s British press reports that the £63million brand “supports over 95 global conservation projects worldwide and has donated £2.3million from sales of Banrock Station over recent years”.


One can only wonder what the eco-conscious purchasers of Banrock would think if they saw the utterly decrepit state of the Murray Valley this summer.


Not a lot of green going on in our biggest valley, which has been gutted and hung out to dry by over-irrigation as growers struggled to supply the likes of Constellation with ever-cheaper grapes for products like Banrock.


While the entire Murray estuary dies, rendering former wetlands to poisonous sulphurous saltpans, Constellation continues its determined withdrawal from Murray Valley viticulture and winemaking, yet masquerades as an environmentalist hero in the Old World.

For up-to-date audio reportage of the state of the Murray's estuary, hit Bush Telegraph, the invaluable Australian Broadcasting Corporation Radio National country issues program. Scroll to Thursday 29 January 2009, and listen to the first half hour, or download it to your poddie.

It's very scary and very very sad.

25 August 2008

Woe, horror and rage

by PHILIP WHITE - This was published in The Independent Weekly in November 2007


Where once ran water, only woe, horror and rage now flood down the Murray. Suddenly, furious blockers picket our parliament like only the violent French would. Desperate to recall what it was like to manage a winery in hard times, the transnational grape refineries struggle to juggle their diminishing returns. Big family wineries are forced to pay their suppliers on delivery. Overhead, sprinklers squirt mindlessly.


“The wine industry will never be the same”, Peter Dawson, Hardy’s senior vice-president of operations, murmured at a party at Paxton’s in March.


It’s a lot worse now. Last week Dawson announced his company’s retreat from its refinery on the River in Victoria, to regroup this side of the border at its Berri Estates, where fifty new jobs might be created.


Never pleased with my thirty years of preaching that Murray Valley viticulture could not be sustained as it was, and that smart wineries should be concentrating their efforts on making better wines for more profit with less environmental and social destruction, Dawson finally announced that his company needed to shift its focus to more profitable wines. But he said “higher-priced”, not “higher quality”.


“The wine industry is not globally competitive at lower price points”, he said. “We should be striving to get all of our Australian wine into higher-priced bottled products.”


Hardy’s have always been prickly at my Banrock Station scepticism. While they market their award-winning property as an environmental triumph, one might ask whether it’s a broadacre big-cropping industrial grapeyard where slightly salty River water is pumped onto an ancient dried-out seabed full of much stronger salt. The little bags of sugar that grow are processed and refined to become what I imagine the senior vice-president of operations would call lower-priced softpack products, until they put it all in bottles.


Use some profit to take the sheep off an old station, and reeds and redgums return to the riverbank. An environmental triumph. Let a swamp develop, call it a wetlands. Another triumph. Then empty the wetlands to put more water in the River, when it gets really crook. Another triumph. 100,000 admiring visitors a year walk the trails, admiring the rejuvenated scrub and riverfront, but the reality of the vineyard is never made quite so clear.


Last week also saw the release of another of the endless scientific reports on the River. This finally put a dollar value on the natural filtration effected by one hectare of working wetland – a higher value than one hectare of productive irrigated land. That is a triumph.


The River has always washed itself. But because there’s been so much poison to be filtered and broken down by the reeds and the weeds and sedge, wetlands which are now being deliberately dried out may never recover. While the dirty water kept them alive, the concentrates now drying in their crusty beds may be too harsh for regrowth.


The whisky bottle was beginning its conciliatory wink when, miraculously, a bottle of O’Donohoe’s Find Tom’s Drop Mourvèdre Shiraz arrived. On its label is an 1896 photograph of the O’Donohoe Brothers’ Hillen Grove Condenser. Michael O’Donohoe’s grandfather, Tom, and his six brothers lobbed on the Kalgoorlie goldfields from County Cork. Traditionally, Irishmen knew how to turn cloudy weak ale into clear powerful poteen in a copper pot still. But O’Donohoes built a desalination business by distilling salty bore water. During the day, anyway. Scouring their photograph, I suspect tradition may have returned at night. Nice marketing.


The vineyard responsible for Tom’s Drop is an environmental triumph. Not only do they need less water, but Michael and Jan are probably cleaning river water by running it through their organic vine garden. “The vineyard is part of a polyculture of trees, vines, plants and creatures” their back label explains. “We endeavour to mimic nature, maintain diversity, and focus on the relationship between soils, plants, and animals.” The living soil below their organic mulch has not been disturbed by machinery for 26 years. They won their Level A Organic certificate in 1990. The crop is always below two tonnes per acre.


And where is this? At Berri. So there’s three examples of nice marketing. Which has the truest ring?


One acre of dirt can never produce more than one acre of flavour. You can squirt on plenty of water and spread your acre of flavour over twenty tonnes of sultana, or chardonnay, seasoned with pesticide, fungicide, and herbicide. Or kill the hose and the poisons, get that mulch going, and squeeze your acre of flavour into a tonne or two of living essence like Tom’s Drop. And guess what happens? You get better wine. For which people are prepared to pay more, because they’re not stupid.


The Ngarrindjeri Curse

by PHILIP WHITE - this was published in The Independent Weekly in August 2008


“What does this mean for the image of the wine industry?” asked Tony McCarthy. The Baldies had woken me to discuss the continuing retreat of Constellation, the world’s biggest wine company, from South Australia. I didn’t really answer his question.


Constellation, which managed to absorb Hardy’s, which had absorbed Chateau Reynella before being absorbed by the big Riverland duet, Berri-Renmano, knows more than most the true value of green bucks.


These are the guys, remember, with the wetlands.


Banrock Station is a perfect example of how you use salty irrigation water on arid land to grow vines which produce little bags of sugar, from which you can legally make alcohol, which brings sufficient profits to fund a swamp along the river from which your humungous pumps took the water for the vineyard. Until it all goes cactus and you put your hand out to the government to help you keep it all looking tickety-boo for a little longer. Which can also be sold as a good news yarn for all concerned. Once or twice.


This is about tweaking the image of the true nature of your business. Green bucks. When John Grant, the President, yep, President, of Constellation Wines Australia, sent out his triumphant press release about how his winery closures and vineyard sales was a deft response “to the difficult global environment by taking steps designed to benefit the company over the long term and, by so doing, help strengthen Australia’s wine sector”, he mentioned the environment, but not Banrock Station. This is because the River is on the nose, but not yet sufficiently stinky to sacrifice Banrock, which might come in handy if the Murray gets better.

“World’s Biggest Wine Company Heals Aussie River”… I can hear it. “We’ll blame this hiccup on the Ngarrindjeri Curse: the disturbed dead of Ngurunderi taking their revenge. Storm Boy has prostrate cancer; old Gulpilil’s pissed in the cane grass; white man’s firewater saves sick river … just a touch more oboe behind the baby ducks, please Boris...”


But image-wise, internationally, the Murray, and its estuary, is quickly becoming our equivalent of the Amazon Basin. A posh pleasure industry based on the totally unnecessary luxury commodity, wine, doesn’t want to be associated with destroying the Amazon Basin. But that’s what it’s done.


In the same news bulletins that reported the Constellation retreat, Dean Brown was on, spraying big time about how us citizens don’t appreciate the hard work Mike Rann and Karlene Maywald are putting into the River. The Brown Man can flush red and lecture, believe me. But suddenly he was doing it for Robin and Catwoman.


Not long ago it was Premier Brown arranging some water rights for his mates in the wine biz who saw Langhorne Creek as a little Coonawarra conveniently close to Adelaide. The vineyards increased from 471 hectares to 4700 within a few years, and now there’s no water and many tears. This sudden lapse coincides with Mr. Brown becoming Mike Rann’s Droughtmeister, not to mention Chairman of Hillgrove, the miner who’s about to dig the biggest pit this side of Roxby at Kanmantoo.


But open pits are thirsty. No worries. Fill the sails of Mount Barker Council and The Courier with bumptious self-congratulatory bullshit about the mining boom being good for the Hills, thus justifying the construction of another one or two thousand villas to house all the lucky employees.


This presents a crisis: what are we gonna do with all this grey water this new Tupperware Tuscany has produced? Easy. Put in a nice little wetland to keep the kiddies and the greens happy with a few shags, coots and ducklings, and flog the overflow to the mine. An environmental triumph matched only by Banrock!


But this is where Dino becomes the Joker: riparian rights. Any effluent from Mount Barker should flow straight to Langhorne Creek, which has no water in the Brown pipes. This may help replace the water they took out of the river a little upstream to supply Mount Barker’s Villa Rash/Greywater Factory so they can fill the kiddies’ wetlands and keep the miners happy. Whew!


The hubris of prospective winegrape investors is similarly malignant: they’re doing soil tests at Langhorne Creek for new big plantings. Now. These, no doubt, intend to take water from one of the private pipes being run past the forthcoming Wellington Weir to catch the last drops of fresh water that managed to get past the Mount Barker pipe. Just think. A few years back it would have run down there to Langhorne Creek, through the Lake, all by itself.


I know many of you think this column should be about wine. But Thirst is thirst, and water is an important gastronomic item. Constellation knows Adelaide is approaching the point where it must choose whether it wants water or wine. The whole world is watching.

16 August 2008

An environmental triumph

by PHILIP WHITE
This was fisrt published in The Independent Weekly in November 2007

Where once ran water, only woe, horror and rage now flood down the Murray. Suddenly, furious blockers picket our parliament like only the violent French would. Desperate to recall what it was like to manage a winery in hard times, the transnational grape refineries struggle to juggle their diminishing returns. Big family wineries are forced to pay their suppliers on delivery. Overhead, sprinklers squirt mindlessly.

“The wine industry will never be the same”, Peter Dawson, Hardy’s senior vice-president of operations, murmured at a party at Paxton’s in March.

It’s a lot worse now. Last week Dawson announced his company’s retreat from its refinery on the River in Victoria, to regroup this side of the border at its Berri Estates, where fifty new jobs might be created.

Never pleased with my thirty years of preaching that Murray Valley viticulture could not be sustained as it was, and that smart wineries should be concentrating their efforts on making better wines for more profit with less environmental and social destruction, Dawson finally announced that his company needed to shift its focus to more profitable wines. But he said “higher-priced”, not “higher quality”.

“The wine industry is not globally competitive at lower price points”, he said. “We should be striving to get all of our Australian wine into higher-priced bottled products.”

Hardy’s have always been prickly at my Banrock Station scepticism. While they market their award-winning property as an environmental triumph, one might ask whether it’s a broadacre big-cropping industrial grapeyard where slightly salty River water is pumped onto an ancient dried-out seabed full of much stronger salt. The little bags of sugar that grow are processed and refined to become what I imagine the senior vice-president of operations would call lower-priced softpack products, until they put it all in bottles.

Use some profit to take the sheep off an old station, and reeds and redgums return to the riverbank. An environmental triumph. Let a swamp develop, call it a wetlands. Another triumph. Then empty the wetlands to put more water in the River, when it gets really crook. Another triumph. 100,000 admiring visitors a year walk the trails, admiring the rejuvenated scrub and riverfront, but the reality of the vineyard is never made quite so clear.

Last week also saw the release of another of the endless scientific reports on the River. This finally put a dollar value on the natural filtration effected by one hectare of working wetland – a higher value than one hectare of productive irrigated land. That is a triumph.

The River has always washed itself. But because there’s been so much poison to be filtered and broken down by the reeds and the weeds and sedge, wetlands which are now being deliberately dried out may never recover. While the dirty water kept them alive, the concentrates now drying in their crusty beds may be too harsh for regrowth.

The whisky bottle was beginning its conciliatory wink when, miraculously, a bottle of O’Donohoe’s Find Tom’s Drop Mourvèdre Shiraz arrived. On its label is an 1896 photograph of the O’Donohoe Brothers’ Hillen Grove Condenser. Michael O’Donohoe’s grandfather, Tom, and his six brothers lobbed on the Kalgoorlie goldfields from County Cork. Traditionally, Irishmen knew how to turn cloudy weak ale into clear powerful poteen in a copper pot still. But O’Donohoes built a desalination business by distilling salty bore water. During the day, anyway. Scouring their photograph, I suspect tradition may have returned at night. Nice marketing.

The vineyard responsible for Tom’s Drop is an environmental triumph. Not only do they need less water, but Michael and Jan are probably cleaning river water by running it through their organic vine garden. “The vineyard is part of a polyculture of trees, vines, plants and creatures” their back label explains. “We endeavour to mimic nature, maintain diversity, and focus on the relationship between soils, plants, and animals.” The living soil below their organic mulch has not been disturbed by machinery for 26 years. They won their Level A Organic certificate in 1990. The crop is always below two tonnes per acre.

And where is this? At Berri. So there’s three examples of nice marketing. Which has the truest ring?

One acre of dirt can never produce more than one acre of flavour. You can squirt on plenty of water and spread your acre of flavour over twenty tonnes of sultana, or chardonnay, seasoned with pesticide, fungicide, and herbicide. Or kill the hose and the poisons, get that mulch going, and squeeze your acre of flavour into a tonne or two of living essence like Tom’s Drop. And guess what happens? You get better wine. For which people are prepared to pay more, because they’re not stupid.

my picks

Coates Organically Grown McLaren Vale Shiraz 2005
$30; 14.5% alcohol; diam cork; 93+++ points
Duane Coates’ third release from the organic Strachan vineyard on the Willunga escarpment proves the provenance of these wisely sensitive minds and some very special soil. Made with wild yeast and zilch intervention, filtering or fining, it smells earthy and wholesome, with the truffly, mossy forest floor aromas you’ll find in great Rhone Hermitage, like the 1978. Judicious oak – some Russian - has given it a fine layer of old spice box. It’s lush, but not too syrupy, with the sorts of velvety tannin and staunch natural acidity that can’t help but make you hungry. Uncommonly fine wine. Pork cutlets, lots of crackling. www.coates-wines.com

Lazy Ballerina McLaren Vale Shiraz 2006
$25; 15.5% alcohol; diam cork; 93+++ points
James Hook, vine scientist, wrangles this California Road vineyard, mostly for a local refinery which uses the fruit as a strengthening essence. Nothing industrial about James’ share: fanatical environmentally-conscious detail to growing, minimal watering, and on through all the traditional winemaking you can think of at Redheads Studio. I wonder how much that shagged dancer’s drunk: this sets MY feet tapping. It’s beautiful, wholesome, dense shiraz, and quite rightfully, the one per cent viognier adds only fine tannin, not the sickening peach syrup some boofheads insist on. A year or two of dungeon will see this glory really glow. Cassoulet. http://www.lazyballerina.com/

Mountadam Eden Valley Shiraz Viognier 2006
$25; 13.8% alcohol; screw cap; 93+ points
Con Moschos, formerly one of Croser’s valkyries at Petal, finally moved to a more impressive Valhalla at Mountadam, and has quickly set the cosmos rippling with this vibrant cracker. It breaks all my rules about this blend requiring only a few per cent of viognier: I couldn’t believe my sensories when Mosh smugly informed me this contains ten per cent! Mountadam’s so lofty and cool the slender vio adds only tannin to a lighter, cool climate shiraz. So much so, the wine’s more along the lines of a racy north Italian nebbiolo, whose DNA is almost identical to viognier’s, after all. It’s lovely, appetizing, crunchy wine. Hare, or venison. www.mountadam.com

Yangarra McLaren Vale Grenache 2006
$28; 15% alcohol; screw cap; 94+++ points
Jess Jackson, the patrician USA supermarket chain owner and grenache tragic, owns this amazing vineyard on the big Blewett Springs sands dune at the Kangarilla end of the Willunga Basin. 60 year old bush vines and canny Vales winemaker Peter Fraser add up to one of the best grenaches I know. In the world. These miraculous sands give burnished hints of Parade Gloss and Marveer, lavendar, rhubarb, cloves, anise, chocolate and nutmeg - an overall feeling that’s more your hot-blooded flamenco dancer full of tapas and tempranillo than your usual cherry and raspberry bomb grenache. Knockout! Tapas; Iberian ham; beef haunch. http://www.yangarra.com/

O’Donohoe’s Find Tom’s Drop Organic Mourvèdre Shiraz 2005
$20; 14% alcohol; screw cap; 94+ pointsMichael O’Donohoe’s vineyard’s been certified Level A organic since 1990. The soil below his mulch hasn’t been disturbed for 26 years. Infinitesimal watering, an absolute maximum of two tones of fruit per acre, and an obsession with maintaining a vineyard that’s “a polyculture of trees, vines, plants and creatures” gives us a hearty, characterful, beautifully balanced living red with a bouquet of cosmetics and cream as much as wild live berries. But they’re there: under that heady perfume, there’s a plump Christmas pudding of nuts and fruits. Sinuous, lithe, perfectly tannic: it’s a miracle. And it comes from the Riverland. http://www.tomsdrop.com.au/

For thousands of wine reviews, hit drankster.blogspot.com

A textbook life

by PHILIP WHITE
This was first published in The Independent Weekly in March 2008

It was a shock to finally meet Ian Hickinbotham. I’d read his perky, provocative wine criticism for years in the Financial Review, The Age and Epicurean. As a brattish young wine hack loose amongst the bullshitting colonels, I lived in awe of his venerable knowledge of biochemistry, his incredible winemaking history, and his fearless, forensic attacks on the fusty conservatism which dominated winery boardrooms in 1980.

He eventually arrived in the flesh: stocky and abrupt, bright-eyed and particular, leading with that Burt Lancaster/George Clooney jaw that marks the Hickinbothams. In a day when great wine men were rarely seen without suits or blazers beneath their lab jackets, he sported an outrageous open-necked check shirt, and curly grey hair down to his shoulders.

Born in 1929, Hick grew up at Roseworthy, where his father had founded the wine science, or oenology, course. At twelve he had his “first practical chemistry lesson”, when, by titration, he analysed the “strength” of various popular soaps. In his essential autobiography, Australian Plonky, just published by The Adelaide University Barr Smith Press, he boasts of still washing with Velvet soap instead of the trendier brands, “appreciating that the practical lesson … was to ensure that young scientists understood the power of advertising”.

Hick’s first vintage was in the Barossa at Hardy’s Dorrien – now Siegersdorf - where, as a sixteen year old, he “revelled in the body-building aspect” of shoveling skins. As captain, his grandfather Dave led Geelong through the 1886 footy season undefeated, and later became that club’s first coach. Hick lists his own football and cricket achievements with as much cocky pride as he reminds us of his amazing winemaking record.

And amazing it is. After Dorrien, he worked at Hardy’s Mile End “champagne” cellars, began studying soil science, and moved back to the Barossa to the SA Grape Growers Co-operative Limited.

In 1949, in his second year at Roseworthy, he began work on untangling the biochemical mysteries of the malo-lactic fermentation. As oenologist at David Wynn’s Coonawarra Estate, in 1952, the year of the first release of Max Schubert’s Grange (the volatile acidity of which seemed to bemuse Hick from the start), he was the first winemaker on Earth to deliberately induce, manage, and understand a malo-lactic fermentation.

Until then, French winemakers knew that after the initial ferment, where yeast converted sugar to alcohol, some sort of mumbo-jumbo happened in their cellars. They never understood how this secondary ferment involved bacteria converting the harsh malic acid of grapes – the sharp acid of apples – to the soothing, milky, lactic acid we first taste from our mothers’ nipples.

Hick had just written his thesis on “malo”, and it was the keen enlightenment of David Wynn that let him proceed in practice. In those days, Australian winemakers added sulphur dioxide in such enormous quantities that no bacterium could live comfortably in the wine after its primary ferment, and most, like the Roseworthy eminence, Dr. Bryce Rankine, believed malo-lactic ferments simply did not occur in Australia.

Wynn, on the other hand, was an angel of enlightenment. When at Wynn’s Melbourne home for his interview, Hick recalls a poet reading to the dinner group, “while the ballerina, Sally Gilmour, lay on the carpet”. He was hypnotized by her pointy feet. Wynn was the first to use the word “estate” on his label, and perfected the bladder pack – then called the “table cask” – that Hick copied from an imperfect Italian vinegar container.

And on he went. With his wife, Judith, Hick ran the Penola pub, where all Coonawarra winemakers drank, then the famous Gini’s restaurant in Toorak for a decade, employing young winemakers like John Wade and Gary Baldwin as waiters. Knowing the Barossa to be home to numerous Nazi sympathisers, some of whom he thinks may have supplied German U-boats with fresh food off our coast in the dead of night, he convinced the paranoid Barossans to change the very Australian name of their co-op to the outrageously Hunnish Kaiser Stuhl. As manager there, he increased sales from £160,000 in 1955 to £740,000 by 1962. He brought Wolf Blass to Australia. He was the first Australian to pasteurise wine. He was the first on Earth to use a centrifuge to stop fermentation. He invented and perfected many of the processes used in the production of commercial sparkling wines. He was a pioneer in the use of stainless steel, insulation, screw caps, and, in The Bulletin of 28 August, 1984, he was credited for initiating one quarter of Australia’s 25 top-selling wines.

While no winelover will fail to be fascinated by it, there are many sanctimonious plonkmongers who will be very shitty with this book: insiders will recognize their charlatan-shaped omissions. Hick is, after all, a Hickinbotham. One wonders what Australia would look like if he’d gone into the villa rash business with his big brother.