Asking for a bottle of Riesling in a shop today is like going to Singapore and asking for a pre-recorded cassette. You can’t be certain if you’re picking up a poor quality tape, a pirated recording, or even the original and all-above-the-board Real McCoy riesling, sorry…record. And price doesn’t give much away, either. Picture a typical scene in an Australian liquor store. “Excuse me, I’d like a bottle of Riesling please.” It’s a commercial chain outlet. “Sure thing, pal, but it’s cheaper in a cask. Chateau Le Dripper is on special this week. I’ve put the wife onto it.” “But is it really Riesling?” “Yea, and what’s more, it’s even dry…” Stop the tape there. This guy is like most of them, so I guess I can’t be too hard, but what does he think Riesling is? Another typical scene, this time in Sydney. “A bottle of Riesling, my good man?” “Yes, sir, over here. Which would you prefer – the Tyrrells, the Lindemans or the McWilliams?” Customer picks up bottle and looks at back label of Lindemans – the others don’t have them. “It says here that the wine is made from 100% Semillon …there must be some sort of mistake.” Cut. What does this retailer think Riesling is? Semillon? Isn’t that another variety altogether? If he worked in a fine wine shop in Melbourne or Adelaide he would almost certainly go to the `Rhine Riesling’ shelf and choose yet another alternative to the same question. The funny, yet sad, thing is that all of those retailers were right – things being as they are today. It’s clear that if you ask for a Riesling you could be served anything from a neutral white wine of anonymous parentage which could be made from any of a number of grape varieties of dubious standing, a high-quality white varietal or a Semillon, which for some peculiar reason known only to certain members of the Hunter fraternity is pronounced `Riesling’ up there. Talk about today being the age of communication…our wine labels might as well be written in Icelandic as far as the average consumer is concerned. If that isn’t enough, the name `Rhine Riesling’ is clearly invalid. The actual name is just `Riesling’, plain and simple. It is the only name permissible for wines of that grape variety to be sold in the Common Market, so I guess that makes it official. In other words, if we want to add our wine to the enormous ocean already drowning Europe, we have to abide by their conventions, OK? 0 This problem has repeated itself in Australia more than once – and it appears to stem from the phenomenon that certain varietal wines have appeared on the market with the name of the grape in question well before there can actually have been enough fruit grown in those vineyards to make the wine. Just remember some of those early Chardonnays! Wine companies wanted to use the name `Riesling’, and having made wines they thought were close enough to justify it, pinched the name and stuck it all over thousands of bottles without so much as a drop of the grape variety inside. Judging by the number of `Rieslings’ visible in casks and bottles, it must still happen quite a bit today. The nett result has been the mass confusion between trade and consumer as to what the word actually means, and a denigration of ( Rhine ) Riesling’s image as a grape variety. Surely it is time to get rid of `Rhine Riesling’, replacing it once and for all with its real name. And get rid of all those other generics that threaten to keep Australia in wine’s third world. Once we just call the grape `Riesling’, the producers can think of their own generic names to call their second-rate wine by. Or should we insist on full varietal labelling and get them to call the wines by their grape varieties, Sultana or Gordo? I think not. One thing at a time. Without a significant change in the standing of the sultana, that would just about cripple us. Figures show that more tonnes of Sultana were crushed for wine in Australia in 1985 than any other grape variety. Where does it all go? Have you been drinking it all? That must be some problem you have. The answer is clear – it lines Softpak City and stretches out to fill the odd dozen of bottled wine, or three. Hilarious – the consumers are being ripped off, and there’s nothing to stop this happening. Boutique wine companies, who rightly claim to lead most of winemaking innovation in Australia, have backed away from calling their wine by the correct name of `Riesling’ to avoid this connection. What of the others – Chablis, Burgundy, Sauternes, Champagne… and Upper Hunter White Bordeaux? Thankfully Moselle has almost vanished – it’s only seen on cardboard – but we have a long way to go. I had the shock of my life when at William Fevre’s boardroom at the Domaine de la Maladiere, Chablis ( France ), to see the main shelf decorated with about a dozen bottles of rather auspiciously Australian `Chablis’. “They’re really pretty —— awful”, reads my workmanlike translation of William’s statement, delivered with a laugh, a shrug and a totally uncomprehending expression. “Why do you do it – do you honestly think that your wine tastes like mine?” He has a point. Australian Chablis has more in common with Australian Riesling than his wine, and we should give the1 name back immediately. How would we feel if some New Zealand wine company started calling their sparkling wines `Victorian’, now that they can no longer call them `Champagne’? Would we ban their sailors from drinking our ports? I think we’d want our name back. Let’s give Europe back theirs.
