CONSTELLATION'S REYNELLA PLOT SICKENS

CONSTELLATION'S AUSTRALIAN HEADQUARTERS AT OLD REYNELLA. JOHN REYNELL'S PIONEER HOMESTEAD IS AMONG THE TREES, CENTRE. HIS 161 YEAR OLD VINEYARD IS CIRCLED. THIS IS THE SITE OF PIONEER HOMES' PROPOSED 41 BLOCK INTENSIVE RESIDENTIAL DEVELOPMENT: A PIONEER YUPPIE GHETTO ALREADY IN THE FESTERING STAGE...

Savvy Council Buys Time At Reynella
In Come The Heavy State Ministers
Meanwhile, Up Shit Creek With Karlene ...
by PHILIP WHITE

“The Stony Hill Vineyard is the jewel in Australia's viticultural crown,” reads the text on the back of the bottle. “Importantly, it is the birthplace of one of Australia's most famous wine houses, the oldest in South Australia, Chateau Reynella. Today Chateau Reynella, the home of John Reynell, the man who planted the first commercial vineyard in South Australia and who is recognised by many as the father of the State's industry, is again producing quality wines from Stony Hill Vineyard. Stony Hill is the first commercial vineyard planted by John Reynell on his Reynella Farm back in 1839, only one year after he founded the farm and three years after the proclamation of South Australia.”

But that was then. Here’s the latest about that same priceless vineyard from the same crass mob.

“Constellation Wines Australia (CWAU) has entered into an agreement to sell a block of land on the north west corner of Reynell and Panalatinga Roads, Reynella, opposite the main winery grounds. This site is part of the original 32 hectare area purchased by John Reynell in 1839, around 16 hectares of which was sold by John Reynell in 1854 to create the township of Reynella (now Old Reynella).

“Known as Stony Hill vineyard, this block comprises 1.24 hectares of Cabernet Sauvignon vines planted in 1990 and 0.89 hectares of Cabernet Sauvignon planted in 1968. These 18 to 40 year old vines are affected by leaf-roll virus and another disease known as ‘Eutypa dieback’. These grapevine diseases have compromised grape quality and reduced yields, to the point where many vines do not have bunches even though they have shoots and leaves. These diseases, combined with the inferior soils of the Stony Hill block, have resulted in poor quality grapes, compared with those grown in the vineyards located on the main winery site.

“The high quality of fruit grown on the main winery site has formed the backbone of our awarded Chateau Reynella McLaren Vale range for many years, and includes the highly valued Reynell clone of Cabernet, named in honour of John Reynell, and now widely used throughout Australia.

“The main winery site is an important part of the Reynella township heritage and highly valued for its historical significance to our company, the region and the South Australian wine industry.

“Sale of the Stony Hill block will enable further investment in the ongoing maintenance of Reynell’s heritage buildings and the surrounding landscaped gardens, which remain open to the public for self guided tours during business hours.

“Details on what is proposed for the Stony Hill block will be a matter for the new owner and the Onkaparinga Council following settlement, which is expected to occur in the next few weeks.”

This statement is from Sheralee Davies, Group Public Relations Manager, 0407 004 959.

The Onkaparinga Council, now beset by complaints about this plan, bought itself some time at Thursday night’s meeting by insisting it needed more advice and information from Pioneer Homes, the developer.

BIGNELL
Leon “Biggles” Bignell, the ace Labour Member for Mawson, the adjacent parliamentary seat, told DRINKSTER “Whitey, do you realise this is History Week? You know what these people are doing? Like Constellation, Pioneer and the Onkaparinga Council? They’re making history history!”

Biggles has written to Patch Conlon, a dead serious wine lover, and Minister for Transport, Energy and Infrastructure, explaining:

“Last night Onkaparinga Council deferred a decision on the subdivision application pending approval by DTEI of a full range of access from Reynell Road to the new development; i.e. left and right access in and out.

CONLON

“I would like you and officers within DTEI to be fully aware of the large community opposition to this proposal and call on DTEI not to grant approval for any access.”

Biggles will meet Planning Minister Paul Holloway on his return from overseas on Tuesday. Holloway promised in November that there would be no more significant housing developments in the Barossa Valley or McLaren Vale. Reynella is within the official McLaren Vale Geographical Indicator.

“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,” he said. “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 ... 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."

HOLLOWAY

As for Cunstellation’s claim that the vineyard’s sick, well. Deary me. The biggest premium wine company on Earth can’t keep one of Australia’s most significant historical vineyards healthy? How can they be trusted to keep the rest of Reynell’s magnificent estate shipshape? Is Eutypa dieback – aka Dead Arm – the end of the world? Chester Osborne has made a healthy profit and a great deal of public favour from his lovely d'Arenberg Dead Arm Shiraz. How many of the oldest McLaren Vale vineyards don’t have some dead arm in them? Duh.

As for the insinuation that the vineyard has no historical significance because it has been replanted? The poppies of Flanders Fields are sacred and revered, not because they're the same ones that were there a century ago, but because of what happened there. And what happened at this sacred site of Australian viticulture, this site which has been under vine for 161 years, makes it absolutely essential that it should remain a vineyard.

SHARLEY
Which leads me to the little matter of Banrock Station. That's the “Help Us Help The Earth – Supporting Global Conservation” Constellation property up the buggered River Murray. Years ago I warned David Woods, CEO of BRL-Hardy before the Constellation invasion, that Banrock was a deadly PR trap unless the vineyard itself was an environmental triumph, and the vineyard most certainly was not, as it was your basic high-tonnage arid land petro-chem sprayed speculation watered by saline water from a River which was obviously not going to last.

Mysteriously, suddenly, Constellation last week “let go” Tony Sharley, the brilliant research scientist and conservationist who managed the swamps below the vineyard.

MAYWALD

The Riverland is abuzz with rumours about Sharley’s relationship with Karlene Maywald, the Minister for the River Murray and Water Security. If these have substance, it should be very good for South Australia and the River, as Sharely will be much more influential advising Ms Maywald than he ever could have been working for the retreating Constellation.

And, believe me, Karlene needs better advice than any she's had so far.

It's just a pity that Constellation hasn't taken better counsel. The four or five million bucks it might get for this act of barefaced vandalism is peanuts compared to the permanent international disgrace this whole thing has brought down.

Help us help the Earth, indeed. Support global conservation? Yes, please! And Banrock Station? Isn't that up shit creek?

Click on George Grainger Aldridge's cartoon for the ancient history:

NOTHING LIKE A KNOCK ON THE HEAD

by PHILIP WHITE - This was published in The Independent Weekly on 14 NOV 08

Great week for thirst. Must have been that knock on the head. One minute I’m making a speech to a restaurant full of people about the wonders of Frank and Rosie Baldasso’s Protero wines, grown on the ridge between Gumeracha and Lobethal, and the next I’m regaining consciousness with a lovely blonde ambo asking are you still with us, Mr. White. Nice pink smudge of blood and hair on the wall at my head.

Having experience in these matters, I believe I woke demanding to know who’d hit me.

After an audacious and stunning repast in the Greedy Goose, 10/10, I’d attempted to stand, and with my slydexia and everything, got my chair caught in the carpet and went arse-up, headlong onto a brick window sill. Out cold. Years of painstaking back recuperation suddenly put back, well, years. And people think this job is easy.

Funny things, restaurants. The main reason for my need for recuperation was a restaurant. Auge. Or the blokes it had in it. Gary Steele, the ex-SAS Burgundy shipper of Domaine Wine Shippers, wanted me to take dinner with him and Roman Bratasiuk, the Institute of Medical and Veterinary Science refugee who after many, many long lunches and a swillion beers in The Exeter, escaped government service to make a few feral wines vaguely after the style of his Balkan brethren, which of course attracted the attention of Robert Parker Jr. and eventually earned young Roman a scarlet Ferrari on his Clarendon Hills account. Steele arranged the dinner to patch up any misunderstandings I might have had with Bratasuik, but picked me up for a cuddle and fell on top of me. I knew that was gonna take a long time to heal before I even hit the floor. Gary is about 6'5" and 22 stone.

Bratasiuk is not my friend. He sells his wine through Steele and buys his Bordeaux and Burgundy from Steele. Steele is my friend. He would probably be a closer friend if I had enough of the Clarendon Hills money to buy Bordeaux and Burgundy from him.

But that was another restaurant, another time, and by the Protero dinner, I had almost repaired.

During a moist, confused epoch which might politely be called this, my most recent recuperation, I dreamed I heard Barack Obama claiming victory in the American elections. I thought I heard Laurie Oakes saying he’d written a book, and an Irishman saying the track was too hard for poor old Septimus. Something about the Reserve Bank. Dudley Brown, of Inkwell vineyard, loomed distortedly, claiming he’d won the Melbourne Cup sweep and that he hadn’t left the Republican Party; it had left him. There were thirteen wood ducks on the lawn. And then, through the whiskied mists of concussion, Paul Holloway said there would be no more housing in the wine regions of Barossa and McLaren Vale.

“Because the Barossa Valley and McLaren Vale are important economic areas of the state”, I dreamed I heard him say, “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.”

Clearly. Leaving the Barossa bit out for the moment - I’ll write about that end of the see-saw once my head has cleared and I’ve been up for a chat with the leading locals - the implications for McLaren Vale are enough for now. There’d been a stand-off for months, as rumours of government relaxing development restrictions on the key villages of the Willunga Basin had developers rattling their bulldozer keys and winegrowers panicking keenly about the value of their vineyards.

The main street of McLaren Vale is a developer’s breakfast. The tractor dealership on the corner of the main street and the Kangarilla Road has shut, so there’s another golden opportunity to make a mess. The ribbon development to McLaren Flat grows like cancer; the latter village is malignantly busting its boundaries. Willunga: ditto. More houses? Rather have a hole in the head.

Not to mention the little matters of the prospective Bowering Hill development – the last chance for the Vales vineyards and agriculture to actually reach the gulf St Vincent, patron of viticulturers - and Glenthorne Farm, O’Halloran Hill, on which the University wants to plant 1,000 houses.

Both these contentious villa rash prospects lie within the officially gazetted McLaren Vale geographic boundary. The northern boundary was quite deliberately drawn around Glenthorne to ensure nobody could in the future argue that it wasn’t part of the McLaren Vale wine district.

When the winery then called BRL-Hardy promised to buy the fruit the vineyards would produce under the deed the University signed, the boundary was drawn around Glenthorne so any wine thus made could be called McLaren Vale.

So what, prithee, could these dreams mean? What might the ambiguity of “urban encroachment to a significant extent” permit in the nefarious wiles of the future? Do 1,000 houses on Glenthorne add up to significant?

Patrick Conlon says the government will not release the Bowering Hill land for development, throwing the gauntlet back to winemakers to come up with a workable solution. Glenthorne Farm is another matter.

But back to the Olden Days and that Protero dinner. That was real. Viognier: elegant, austere, bone dry tannins. Lovely. Chardonnay: pears and schist. Lean, clean and bone dry. Appetising. Cabernet sauvignon: feminine, elegant, perfumed and floral. Cellar for five years. Merlot: think Bordeaux. Sweet, clean, pretty. Coffee and chicory; chocolate. A neat rival to the stunning Romney Park. Merlot cabernet: much better! More complex; cream and moss; beautiful natural acidity. Dry as a chip. Needs seven years.

Now Philip, don’t, whatever you do, don’t stand up too quickly ...

Through the past, darkly

by PHILIP WHITE - This was published in The Independent Weekly on 5 September 2008

Around 1982, I was pleasured to conduct a preliminary tasting of the fifty or so wines assembled from the Yalumba Museum for that year’s Museum Tasting. Michael Broadbent, the impeccably besuited gentleman wine scribe from London’s port-and-stilton clubland, and Len Evans, his opposite number in more ways than one, were my co-tasters.

Amongst the treasures on display was an old Australian red I quite loved. It was not in perfect condition, but it delighted me. In his round-up of our opinions, delivered instructively from a lecturn to the lucky throng who were about to do the same tasting, Evans shat on me for my appreciation of the wine, suggesting I could not see volatile acidity should I drown in it.

“Young White”, he’d always say. “Not a bad writer, but we’ll have to get him up to the Hunter to teach him a thing or two about wine”. He never missed such an opportunity. Broadbent, by the way, seemed to like the wine as much as I did.

It was a Caldwell red from 1937, a blend of Barossa shiraz and a Hunter component, probably made by the great Maurice O’Shea. Two bottles were for sale at the next day’s auction. The bidding went ballistic, but I prevailed. I had never spent so much on two bottles of wine.

I settled them, and drank them a week later at the Uraidla Aristologist. One bottle was poor, but still quite drinkable, the other in quite good nick for a forty-five year old.

A few weeks later I was in Western Australia with the winemakers of Hardy’s, and Bill Hardy raided the cellar at Houghton to find some old glories to be served, blind, at dinner. One bottle immediately rang my bells. “It’s not the same, but it reminds me of the Caldwell I recently bought at the Barossa vintage auction”, I said.

Bill was incredulous. This was a Western Australian red, from, I think, 1938.

“It’s from the other side of the country, Whitey”, he said. “But it’s made by Charlie Kelly, the same winemaker who blended that Caldwell in Sydney the year before.” Snap.

After working at Caldwell, an old-style negociant and blending house, Charles W. Kelly went to the West to make the wines at Valencia, where Bill worked with him before Kelly’s retirement in 1977. He was the grandson of Dr. A. C. Kelly, one of the first owners of Tintara, and author of the 1867 E. S. Wigg publication, Winegrowing in Australia, one of the colony’s first viticulture bibles.

A few weeks ago, I feasted at Norberto’s house of meat in Hutt Street, with Peter Gago, Patrick Conlon and Peter Vaughan. The latter, a fearsome wine collector, brought two rare bottles; Gago, of course, had dug deep as well.

Vaughan’s first offering was immediately recognised: the 1937 Caldwell, now gnarled and obviously very old, perhaps a little volatile, but certainly not poisonous. What a thrill to put such a slice of history into the gizzards!

“Best looking 71 year old in the country” Patrick gurgled. “Sweet and full of vinegar, but lush, live and lovely”, my notes enthuse.

Vaughan’s next offering was in near perfect condition. It was Maurice O’Shea’s Mount Pleasant Light Dry Red from the legendary Stephen hermitage vineyard, from 1952, my birth vintage. This was exquisite wine, in no worse condition than, say a five-year-old Bass Phillip, and certainly in better nick than many of the hyper-expensive Clarendon Hills offerings much beloved of Robert Parker Jr..

“Utterly wondrous!” I scribbled.... “Olives, bread, caramel, fudge, mealy tannin....96 points....looks much better than me!”.

Gago then poured Max Schubert’s crowning glory, the 1962 Bin 60A blend of Coonawarra shiraz and Kalimna cabernet. I’d had this wine many times with Max, and had feared that since his death, any fresh bottles with good corks had all gone. But this one, virtually straight from the cellar it had occupied since the day of its bottling, was alarmingly fresh and saucy in a “so whatter you lookin at?” manner.

The fascinating thing about it, however, was its preponderance of raw American oak. In the days when I drank such wonders with Max, nearly all of our top reds were covered in sappy, coconutty American oak, so the 60A never appeared outstanding for its wood. Compared to many, in fact, it always seemed perfectly balanced. But now, since we’ve moved on to much more suitable, finer-grained oaks from the cooler forests of France, the poor old thing was more of an audacious, out-of-fashion artefact, if indeed delicious and still cheeky. 96 points, two of them for emotion.

So never believe the winemaker who tells you “it’s pretty woody now with that spicy American, but it’ll assimilate with time”. American oak has no more chance of assimilating than the lumps of amber sap that have bobbed around the Baltic for millions of years.

Romney Park Barossa Shiraz 2006

$48; 14.5% alcohol; Diam cork; 94++ points

From the deep red dirt over the clay, bluestone and schist of the Barossa piedmont near Bethany, this rare, priceless wine is worth stocking up, since some boofhead who had no right to them put a mechanical harvester over the old bush vines this year, and simply headed off with the grapes. We know who he is. This is classic piedmont fruit: all deep and mysterious, with dried prune, stewed blackberry, mulberry and blueberry; a twist of carob bean; a lick of aniseed balls; a shot of mint; beetroot … and even while its finish is bone dry and schisty rather than slenderly tannic, it’s still elegant. Rostbif. 0439 398 366

Grosset Polish Hill Clare Riesling 2008

$44; 13% alcohol; screw cap; 93++ points

Deceptively reluctant to emerge at first – don’t chill it; cool it - this wine eventually exudes a pleasing, teasing whiff of nashi pear and a certain creaminess, like ly-chee. It gradually builds up a wet flagstone base note, giving it an almost Austrian authority, like some Salomon. Similarly, the palate’s creamy and lush, with a longer, more comforting finish than that slaty bouquet promised. Then you disturb a severe wall of lemon-and-lime acidity and sombre stone, and begin to realise this is a wine for very long-term cellaring indeed. It’s a beauty. Choucroute with parsnips and smoky speck. www.grosset.com

Petaluma Clare Valley Riesling 2008

$30; 12.5% alcohol; screw cap; 93++ points

Brrrrr. Here’s another ravishing example of the outstanding rieslings made in Clare before the heatwave turned everything to Aeroplane Jelly. I know, I know you’ve heard the descriptor before, but there are no other words for it: this smells like flagstone soaked in lime juice. It’s a scrumptious, unctuous, confounding wine: huge in force and presence, but still impeccably elegant and reserved. It has fresh healthy fruit spongily wrapped around a chassis of rapier acidity, with phenolics and tannins that resemble the Hanlin’s Hill rock, with maybe just a little tease of strawberry pith. One of Petal’s best. Salmon confit.

Morillon Port Phillip Estate Tete du Cuvée Mornington Peninsula Pinot Noir 2006

$??; 13.5% alcohol; Diam cork; $93++ points

I spose if you’re copying a wine style from France you might also copy their ling. This coulda bin called sumpin different. But it doesn’t jam in my craw, the ling. Nor does the wine. I like the fact that it’s not a juicy fruity pinot, filling the Port Phil’s top bot, nor is it a big tannic bugger, pretending it contains shiraz but not really. This is perfectly balanced, perfectly formed young pinot, understated in almost every way. But add all that understatement together, and you’ve got a simple, humble, plainly crafted antipodean wine that should have the haunches of all Burgundy ashiverin. Nice knock. Spare ribs. www.portphillip.net

Romney Park Adelaide Hills Merlot 2005

$25; 14.5% alcohol Diam cork; 93++ points

Real merlot’s freaky - it likes to keep its roots wet. So this vineyard’s as happy as a swine in the mire, on the banks of the Onkaparinga at Balhannah. It’s delightful, highly stylish wine, intense but sublimely elegant, with that heady, dark smell of swamp myrtle, with its waxy leaves. Blackberry vines, too, with ripe fruit. Unless you’re used to Petrus or La Pin, forget everything you’ve heard about merlot: this strapping, highly appetising bargain IS NOT MELLOW. With enough fine tannin to ensure at least a decade’s dungeon, it’s utterly scrumptious now. Juicy cutlets and reduced spinach. Call 0439 398 366

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