Everyone, it appears, is lining up for their say on Australian shiraz. The Brits, who drink our cheaper wines by the bucketful, then go away and write about how industrialised they all are. Many Americans, fulled by the Robert Parker’s enthusiasm for ultra-ripe shiraz, reckon they’re the greatest thing since the Fifth Amendment. Either that, or like Bonny Doon’s Randall Grahm, they describe them as ‘caricatures’ or ‘cartoons’, as was recently reported in Melbourne’s The Age newspaper. Either way, everybody seems to be referring to the popular stereotype of Australian shiraz, at the expense of the steadily expanding diversity of top-class shiraz made with an entirely different result in mind. Most wine-drinking Brits and Yanks might be shocked to learn that shiraz is indeed grown and made in other Australian regions than the Barossa Valley and McLaren Vale. Or that Australian winemakers actually use oak casks for shiraz that are grown outside the USA. Ignorance of these ‘new’ Australian expressions of shiraz, several of which like Yarra Yering’s Dry Red No. 2 actually go back nearly thirty years, is no longer a valid excuse, especially where media and other opinion leaders are concerned. Despite what might be a pre-occupation with the larger production runs made by the big companies, the Australian wine industry is still a very dynamic one at the small winery level. Winemakers are constantly questioning and challenging established expressions of shiraz. The ongoing development of new regions proving able to grow exceptional shiraz with their own character leads one to speculate that perhaps we don’t yet know where the best Australian shiraz will come from, or even what form it will take. One day somebody is going to stage a tasting in the US or Europe that will only incorporate the best Australian shirazes put together with a philosophy more akin to that of the Rhone than the Barossa Valley. It might include shirazes like Dalwhinnie’s Eagle Series, Giaconda, Craiglee, Plantagenet, Clayfield, Clonakilla, Castagna, Bannockburn or Bannockburn by Farr. Or any number of others. Not an industrialized wine in sight, nor a single cartoon or caricature. I’d love to be there, for it will surely turn the popular conception of Australian shiraz well and truly on its head. And it can’t happen soon enough.
