“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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13 November 2012

RAY BECKWITH MEMORIAL GATHERING

photograph copyright Milton Wordley

There will be a Memorial Gathering for the late Dr Ray Beckwith OAM at the Barossa Arts and Convention Center in Tanunda on this Friday 16th November at 11AM.  Please come to reflect on the life of this amazing man and share some refreshments in the spirit which he would have showed.



Obituary - Dr Ray Beckwith OAM
23rd February 1912 - 7th November 2012
by PHILIP WHITE


While the future King of England and his Duchess avoided being seen to be drinking on a state tour of the Penfolds Grange winery at Magill on Thursday, my good friend Ray Beckwith, that company’s great wine scientist, died in an old folks’ home in the Barossa.

Beckwith was a genius.

And he was a hundred years old.

He didn’t even make the news.

Always a stylish fellow, Beckwith wore a perfectly-cut suit, with French cuffs on his shirt, and he ran an impeccable laboratory all his working life at the Penfolds winery in Nuriootpa. 

He was always supportive, always curious, always thinking of better ways to do things.  He loved to sit back and drink good wine and he was master of polite, bright, constructive discourse.

He could nut things out.

Ray Beckwith was born at Cowell in 1912.  His dad made water tanks with a Scandinavian sailor who’d jumped ship from a grain cutter and knew about curving galvo perfectly.  Ray was really pleased with the way they’d make three tanks which fitted neatly within each other to keep the transport costs down.  They worked in silence – the sailor knew no English.

While he was still a primary school kid, the Beckwiths moved to Murray Bridge, where his dad sold hardware to blokes who were clearing the Murray mudflats for dairy farms.

By 1932 he had his Honours Diploma in Agriculture from Roseworthy.  “It was the Depression when I graduated,” he explained at his 100th birthday. “I rode through the gates on a bike.  I had been considering attending university, but Professor A. E. Richardson said ‘Forget university – get a job!’ In 1932?

“So I studied wool classing at the then School Of Mines, and eventually got a letter saying I could get work at Plumbago Station.  That was my first stride into the big world ... We shore 30,000 sheep in six weeks on six stands … When I got back there was a letter from Roseworthy offering me a cadetship at ten shillings a week.  That 1933 year we had a record vintage at Roseworthy: 2,400 gallons.  I was in the lab with Allan Rob Hickinbotham.  He unveiled the mysteries of pH.  I was always curious.  It was in the soils and it was transferred to the wines.  I did trials on the fermentation efficiencies of controlled yeasts.  That was very important in those days of fortified wines.  The higher the alcohol you could achieve before fortification the less spirit you needed and there was less duty payable.”

Beckwith worked on sparkling wine in Hardy’s Currie Street and Mile End cellars, until Leslie Penfold Hyland heard his yeast paper read at a Melbourne conference, and offered him a job. 

“So as a young winemaker at age 23 on January 22 1935 I was at Penfolds with 105 twelve-ton fermenting tanks.   I’ve got to look after those.”

Bacterial spoilage of wine was rife throughout the industry.  It was common for 20-40% of all wine made to end up in the gutter or the stills.  Beckwith isolated a Portuguese yeast which improved things by speeding the ferments, but was still frustrated by this plague.

“In 1936 I was at the University of Adelaide with Professor Macbeth,  who gave me access to his private laboratory,” he would recall. “It had a modern pH meter, an extremely expensive device but deadly accurate, because of its glass Morton electrode. 

“The intention was to see if there was any correlation between total acidity, pH and taste.  I also tried the effect of various acid additions on the pH in wines.  The means of adjusting pH was by Tartaric Acid, a natural constituent of wine.

“The results were graphed.  Two were completed with dotted lines, and the third?  The Professor had drunk my samples.  Out of courtesy, I gave him a copy of my findings.  I could claim no direct correlation of total acid, pH and taste.  But John Fornachon had been engaged by the Wine Board to research Sweet Wine Disease, and I'd read his preliminary paper. I took a foolscap sheet and typed on it a very simple statement: ‘pH control may be a useful tool to control bacteria in wine.’  To me that was prophetic.

“We didn’t solve anything but we got a working knowledge of pH and its effect on the behaviour of wine.  I remember coming out one day onto North Terrace which was decorated with thousands of flowers.  It was the hundredth anniversary of the state.”

On the train home to Murray Bridge, Beckwith had a brainwave which would change winemaking world-wide.  Forever.

“I went down to the end of the carriage so I could sit on my suitcase, outside in the fog.  I was having a smoke, listening to that clickety clack under the dim yellow light, and I remembered I had a copy of John Fornachon’s sheet on the affect of lactobacillus on wine.  I took it out and told myself ‘I can use this!’  That was my eureka moment.  I told Leslie Penfold Hyland ‘I can crank this’ ... I broached the subject of acquiring a pH meter, telling him my vision of control.  I held up three brochures.  ‘Which is the best?’ he asked.  I told him the best was the Cambridge unit with the Morton glass electrode ... ‘Get it,’ he said. I was impressed.  It cost £100.  My salary was £5 a week."



Maynard James Keenan, proprietor/winemaker at Caduceus in Jerome, Arizona, meeting Ray Beckwith's pH meter at Penfolds Grange, Magill ... Maynard dedicated his Puscifer recording Dear Brother to Beckwith ... photo Philip White
   
“To put the proposition into practice, I had to adopt a suitable pH level.  Here I was in unknown territory.  Using Fornachon’s raw data as a guide, I proposed a pH of 3.8 as a maximum for fortified wine.”

Penfold Hyland maintained an almost paranoid regime of secrecy in his company, and Beckwith was forbidden to speak of his discoveries, a fact which irritated him til his death.  He would laugh with irony about being permitted to attend the horse races, provided he never talked to other winemakers.  But gradually his ideas leaked, and that magic formula has since become the standard for winemakers all over the world.

When Ray started at Penfolds Nuriootpa, the local blacksmith’s son, Max Schubert, was stable boy and errand runner.  It was Beckwith who convinced the Penfold Hylands to promote him to the position of chief winemaker in 1948.  Within a couple of years, Max was scheming notions of his super-red, and in 1952 the first commercial Grange Hermitage was released.

Somehow, amidst all the brilliance and excitement of his 1936 discoveries, Ray had found the time to marry his sweetheart, Coral Lodge. A few months ago he recalled her with relish when he suggested the secrets of a good long life were “a good woman and good red.  In that order.” 

Ray’s astonishing list of discoveries and inventions continued throughout his working life: he tackled, and solved many problems associated with metal contamination, stability, oxidation and so on.   From 1955 to 1976 he gave much time and energy to the Australian Wine Research Institute.  He retired from Penfolds in 1973, when Max Schubert handed him his gold watch.  In 1980 he was inducted into Barons of Barossa.

In 2004 Ray spoke publicly for the first time of his scientific achievements to a gathering of international winemakers at Langmeil winery in the Barossa, and in the same year was awarded his Honoris causa Doctorate at the University of Adelaide and was made an Honorary life member of American Society of Enology and Viticulture.

In 2006 he was presented with the Maurice O'Shea Award, and in 2008 the Medal of the Order of Australia.  The Roseworthy Old Collegians Association gave him an Award of Merit in 2010.

Perhaps the best encapsulation of Ray’s attitude to his achievements came at the end of his famous Langmeil Speech, when he suggested his generation had unraveled the science of winemaking, so younger winemakers could now get on with the art of it.

“Many years ago Franz Liszt was asked to what he ascribed his success as a pianist and composer” he concluded. “Lizst said ‘There are three things. First, technique.  Second, technique.  Third, technique.’ I have paraphrased Liszt’s reply: there are three important things in winemaking.  First, is vigilance. Second is vigilance.  Third, you guessed it, is vigilance. Thankyou for your attention, and bon appetit!” 

Ray is survived by his son, Jim, grandchildren, Samantha, Glen, Ian, Ross and Portia, and great-grandchildren, McKinnon and Ainsley.




Ray Beckwith's Langmeil Speech August 2004
Ray Beckwith's 100th Birthday speech  
Ray Beckwith: who employed Max Schubert? 


Ray Beckwith, his son Jim, and the author ... photos Milton Wordley

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07 November 2012

Dr RAY BECKWITH OAM DIES AT 100


Ray Beckwith, perhaps the greatest wine scientist of all time, died this afternoon in the Barossa Valley. Here he is addressing friends at his 100th birthday party, with Thelma, Max Schubert's widow at his side. Ray appointed Max Schubert to his job as chief winemaker at Penfolds Magill. 
 photo Richard Humphrys

Ray Beckwith's Langmeil Speech August 2004
Ray Beckwith's 100th Birthday speech  
Ray Beckwith: who employed Max Schubert? 


 

06 November 2012

GRANGE AND CADUCEUS WITH NOODLES

Jen, Maynard, Pete: winemakers ... Pete's got the next King of England visiting Magill tomorrow morning ... Maynard looks like coming twice next year with A Perfect Circle ... you can hear another of his bands, Puscifer, here ... images below portray the recent Grange masterclass in LA ... photos by Milton Wordley, taken on the road whilst working on our forthcoming book, A Year In The Life Of Grange (to be published 1 May 2013)
 

02 November 2012

ANGRY VINEYARD BATTLES NOT OVER YET


Vignoble Protection Bills Pass
But Labor Pushes McLaren Vale Ghetto Rash Through Anyway
by PHILIP WHITE

South Australian Premier, Jay Weatherill (above), has been celebrating the fact that the Japanese-owned Lion Brewery in Adelaide’s Thebarton has taken the Guinness and Kilkenny license from Fosters and will spend $70 million upgrading its plant to brew these revered suds there.

The owner, Kirin/Mitsubishi, will also close its Swan brewing operations in Perth and now make those products in the Adelaide plant.


In the same week, Premier Weatherill has touted his government’s sensible bills which "protect" the vital agricultural land of the Barossa and McLaren Vale from ghetto creep.
 
“We will now not have Councils, developers, landowners or even Ministers for Planning subdividing land without full Parliamentary approval in the Barossa or McLaren Vale,” Attorney-general and Minister for Planning, John Rau said at the passage of these two essential  bills.

“This legislation secures the Barossa and McLaren Vale regions for generations to enjoy.”

And yet his government insists on smothering Seaford Heights, the only remaining slice of the best old geology in the Vales, with housing, right on the entry to McLaren Vale. Click the geology map to see this: it's the land immediately west of winery # 33 (Paxton's), which is on the west side, just south of Old Noarlunga. 


These fields were long regarded as the best barley producers in the state.  Their grain was beloved by Guinness when it was previously brewed in Adelaide, and the few vineyards adjacent to them consistently produce grapes which win record prices while their wines win the highest scores from international critics.

Internationally-renown winemaker Sparky Marquis, of Mollydooker, has wisely spent a motza and bought the only adjacent field not destined for housing. With the help of viticulturer Jock Harvey, he is painstakingly removing its old firing range and motocross tracks to rehabilitate the ground for vineyard.  Mollydooker's famous Velvet Glove Shiraz comes from the Paxton Gateway Vineyard next door, and sells out at $180+ per bottle.

Penfolds also has a prized vineyard just over the road, which it has only recently signified with very stylish signage.


This community garden - established with the help of Senator Nick Xenophon and his trusty shovel - and those scarce native trees, were the first things to go under the Seaford Heights developer's bulldozer. No McLaren Vale resident drives past this vast first-class agricultural ground without considering their vote, and there's an election imminent.




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Apart from a fragment at the sacred geological site at Hallett Cove, Seaford Heights is the only remnant of the precious 650+ million year old Umberatana Group geology which is not yet covered by villa rash. All these scarce old geological groups north of the Onkaparinga Gorge have gone to housing, in spite of them hosting the majority of the McLaren Vales vignoble only a few decades back.

Very famous winemakers like Max Schubert and Brian Barry revered their fruit, and now we see a government desperate to please its developer mates by continuing with its relentless and brutal destruction of what is probably the best farming land in the remaining vignoble.

The swinging seat of Mawson, held by a sliver by Labor’s admirable Leon Bignell, is at stake.  Bignell is the bloke who diligently crashed the McLaren Vale and Barossa Character Preservation Bills into law, but apparently has no choice but accept his party bosses’ determination to push the cursed Seaford Heights development through.

Tweet your thoughts directly to Premier Weatherill at JayWeatherill@JayWeatherill.  There is no time to lose, and there’s an election imminent.

Never ever give up.



The original Tractor Action demo clogged the streets and roads of the south and brought about the seeds of the Bills to save McLaren Vale and the Barossa from housing. But this was about the horrid Seaford Heights development, which the South Australian Labor Party bosses seem to have conveniently forgotten. These farmers never forget.



NEWS RELEASE

Deputy Premier John Rau
Attorney General
Minister for Planning
Minister for Business Services and Consumers
www.premier.sa.gov.au 


Thursday, 1 November, 2012

Iconic regions saved from urban sprawl

 
The State’s iconic Barossa and McLaren Vale regions will now both be protected from residential subdivision, with the passing of both the Character Preservation (Barossa Valley) Bill 2012 and the Character Preservation (McLaren Vale) Bill 2012.


The Upper House last night did not insist on further amendments to the Barossa Valley Bill meaning that both Bills are expected to be finalised in the Lower House today.


The Minister for Planning John Rau said that the passing of the legislation is an important moment in history, not just for the regions, but for the entire State.

“A line in the sand has now been drawn on Adelaide’s urban sprawl,” Mr Rau said.


“Thanks to the efforts of the people, these two defining regions of South Australia are under the unique protection of these Bills.”


“We will now not have Councils, developers, landowners or even Ministers for Planning subdividing land without full Parliamentary approval in the Barossa or McLaren Vale,” Mr Rau said.
 

“This legislation secures the Barossa and McLaren Vale regions for generations to enjoy.”

The Member for Mawson, Leon Bignell said that it was an historic day for the people of [sic] the McLaren Vale.


“We are now able to provide certainty to the great people of McLaren Vale and ensure that the characteristics that make the region unique will be preserved,” Mr Bignell said.


“It gives certainty to locals, to developers and to investors in the McLaren Vale area.”


“I would like to thank all of the locals, business owners and other groups who have helped to make this important legislation a reality for our beloved McLaren Vale.”


Mr Rau said that the unique aspect of the legislation is to require that any changes to the protection zones would need to be agreed to by the Parliament.


“It is too important for South Australia to leave it to a Minister or a Council to make changes to the boundaries set out in the Bills,” Mr Rau said.


More information about the Barossa and McLaren Vale Preservation Bills and the protected zones can be found at www.sa.gov.au


August 2011: The vet on left looked pleased at John Rau's announcement that Seaford Heights would go ahead regardless. Jim Hullick, the good man on the right, simply looked down. Rau began to storm out of this announcement meeting when it became obvious we - the press and local stakeholders - wanted to ask questions, then had a change of mind and stayed for a bit while he stonewalled. Then he walked out.


BEARDS GO VIRAL AT OLIVERS TARANGA


Beards all round  for the launch of the new Olivers Taranga clip, The Bearded Bottle ... all photos by Philip White

30 October 2012

PARACOMBE WINERY HITS TOP FOR 20TH

Ben, Sarah, Kath and Paul Drogemuller at Paracombe winery

Top Points In Melbourne Show
Neat 20th Anniversary Present
For Paracombe's Drogemullers
by PHILIP WHITE


Twenty years ago, give or take a few minutes, a new wine region called the Adelaide Hills decided to stage its first regional wine festival.  I recall being in a crowded and noisy room somewhere in Hahndorf, sitting at a desk lined with glasses, when a huge paw thrust through the mob, proffering another red.

“What do you think of that?” its owner asked.

I sniffed it, and looked at the very big man away off on the other end of that arm.

“Have you got ironstone?” I asked, recognizing the tell tale whiff of things ferruginous in that dense, glowering Shiraz.

“Well I’ll be buggered,” the fellow said.  “How do you know that?”

It turned out to be Paul Drogemuller, of Paracombe Wines.  Within a few weeks I was in his tractor shed, kicking barrels.  We were instant friends.  Turned out he’d lost a lot of property, including his collection of old motorbikes, in the Ash Wednesday bushfires and had then run a farm supplies store until one way or another he’d decided to jump into the wine business and plant a vineyard.

He wisely chose an upland basin immediately north of the Torrens Gorge atop the plateau at Paracombe.  It faced the south and east, so it drew the gentle morning sun rather than the afternoon scorcher.  This reinforced its cool nature, and ensured fruit of good natural acidity. While the place exuded a serene calm, it nevertheless seemed wild and high and remote: a very long way from the suburbs only minutes off, at the foot of Anstey’s Hill. 


But from Droggie’s shed you could look across the Gorge to the new vineyards at Lenswood, where great names like Knappstein, Weaver and Henschke were planting very widely-touted vineyards, or replacing others that had been cindered in those disastrous fires.

That day we walked the tidy vineyard, kicking lumps of ironstone and sandstone aside, and in there in his shed amongst the tractors and dust tasted dark old barrels of beautifully perfumed, intense reds: the aforementioned Shiraz, and you little beauty: a stunning Cabernet franc, the most prettily aromatic variety of Bordeaux.  This was an even scarcer rarity in those days.

And then this big man shyly pulled out a bottle of sparkling Chardonnay and Pinot noir, mumbled something about his love of fine fizz, disgorged it with a pop and a shoosh of froth, and poured a glass.

It was a refined, elegant and delicious dry sparkler, easily in the league of the posh stuff from the Piccadilly Valley, where an effusive degree of public relations fluff and bluster had been devoted to the promotion of the new fizz from Petaluma’s Bridgewater Mill.

We drank that bold certificate of assertion with Paul’s vivacious wife Kath, pregnant again after having a bonnie son, Ben.  These were honest, open-hearted country people who had boldly, but with an uncommon intelligence chosen this very special spot to commence a way of life they have relentlessly stuck to.

There were always neighbours about the farm, assisting with this and that; lending a bulldozer here, a tractor there, some muscle whenever the big man’s wasn’t quite enough.  People seemed to queue up to help.  I soon learned about the couple’s German heritage, and only became aware of Paracombe’s proximity to Lobethal, the Vale of Love, when I heard somebody joke about Paul having to “go all the way over there across the River to get a wife.”

However you look at it, that was a journey well made.

Gradually a modern winery appeared.  As the kids grew, the family would spend weekends mixing concrete to pour reinforced walls on the big slab neighbors had helped establish.  Each weekend they’d raise the wall made the week before, and pour another.  Paul assembled bits and pieces of winemaking kit, and gradually a handsome and substantial winery complex grew, overlooking the Gorge on one side, and that beautifully tidy basin of vines on the other.

It was delightful to watch the wines emerge.  Those reds were soon joined by others: refined, austere Cabernet sauvignon; a gently-oaked Chardonnay; a Riesling, from a neighbour’s vineyard at Holland Creek, as crisp and fresh as a mountain brook, and perhaps most significantly, a bright, zippy Sauvignon blanc.  The Marlborough explosion of this new variety had barely seen its fuse lit in those early ’nineties, and the Paracombe version immediately took its place foremost amongst them, and has since been a favourite in Adelaide.  To me it always seemed lighter than most of the Kiwi flood, a more frivolous and casual wine on the one hand, but dead serious in its precise elegance and refinement: it’s part slide rule and part party.

While Paul and his mates and kin built the winery and the suite of very fine Paracombe wines, Kath would strap her babies in the car and do the rounds of Adelaide’s wine stores and restaurants, quickly developing a reputation for being the last lady in Australia to whom one owed a debt.  When you had Kath Drogemuller standing by your cash register, waiting for a cheque, you got that bloody pen out lickety-split.

As the coat of infant drawings on the Drogemuller kitchen fridge gradually took more teenaged form, Kath worked up a distinctive, stylish label featuring that single berry sitting on a slice of sandstone, its parameter so stained with iron from the ground around it that it looks to the unwitting so much like a slice of crusty bread you could eat it.

Then Paul, having failed to convince its owner to sell him a nearby vineyard of Shiraz that was already ancient when John Davouren used it for his St Henri Clarets in the ’fifties, managed instead to buy each individual vine, which he dug up and moved to his own vineyard, one-by-one.  Those old strugglers sit around the homestead now, in dramatic contrast to the perfectly neat rows of the new vineyard, which is as cute and orderly as a manicured tea plantation.  The uninitiated might suggest that in comparison, those oldies look a bit like the tattered rows of Napoleon’s troops staggering home from St Petersberg, the weight of defeat heavy upon them, but uh-huh, that old legion’s smug and happy, and makes the Paracombe super-red, the right royal Somerville. 


One of my major poetic heroes, the great Charles Bukowski famously wrote “the days run away like wild horses over the hills,” which is exactly what happened between those bonnie, part naïve times, and the big dinner the Drogemullers put on a week back to celebrate their twentieth annual wine release.

It was one of those nights when you feel the warm security of a family of substance; a tribe whose decades of quiet, determined, uncomplaining travail and endeavour have finally stacked up to make one of our most admired, yet understated wine businesses.

As Advertiser wine writer Tony Love quietly asserted, it felt like a family wedding, with speech after congratulatory speech from folks who’d been in on it since the beginning.  Even the accountant stood up and told bad jokes about “birds”.  Anne Oliver conjured delicious tucker in the well-appointed kitchen Paul had built atop the winery, and we sat there like royalty in the dining room, celebrating a very special family’s brilliant success.

I shall review the newest suite of Paracombe wines over the next weeks.  In the meantime, you’d better jump in and order your 2009 Ruben red.  This $21 blend of Merlot, Cabernet sauvignon, Cabernet franc, Malbec and Shiraz presented the Drogemullers with a jim-dandy anniversary present last Thursday: out of the 3,170 wines in the Royal Melbourne Wine Show, it won the highest points of them all.  



Droggie and the author.  Paul is indeed a large fellow, with a heart to match.

28 October 2012

TIM WHELAN AND CO PLAY THE VALES

Tim Whelan and his friends played County Clare in Willunga yesterday ... I know it's not County Clare country, but they hung me soaring like a bonksie, out in the North Atlantic sky off the Ol Man O Hoy, the ocean glittering far below ... around the table from the left: Michael Reeves (mando), l'Hibou Hornung, Marie McEvoy, Elise Okell, Tim Whelan, Darryl Lindsay (fiddles), and Tom Martin (mando) ... photos Philip White ... click image to crisp up ... contact DRINKSTER if you'd like something along these lines to happen at your place!