Tony’s Aussie Blog: Visiting the RedHeads

The Barossa was hot. Not 45°C like January, but hot for any damp person just arrived from the UK.  Can you actually live in 45°C? 

The latest RedHeads shed is just off the Tanunda Road and nondescript.  But 'showy' isn't the RedHeads way. They haven't even got the sign up yet. It seems to be being used as a table. No chairs; just deckchairs, a fridge and a massive speaker unit going flat out. 

Ten at night, lights still on, grapes still being crushed. That great moonlighting tradition of RedHeads.  Dan – bearded young Aussie winemaker ex-***** (deleted for safety) star and now desperate to make the wine he always wanted to but never could … working in a mega winery that, no joke, was designed by an oil refinery engineer – is  on forklift. 

Hard at work in the new shed

Iain – Scottish, not a winemaker,  but for many years the pampered Buying Director of pukkah London wine merchants Bibendum – is leaping about covered in red stains, wishing he'd kept himself fitter. Iain has inherited what has been described within Laithwaite's as the ' supremely sh*t Job' of trying to organise the unorganiseable … ie RedHeads. 

There's a Mexican winemaker here too and a guy who for some reason makes his wine in central Adelaide. They all do their own and help each other. It’s a small but happy unit.

RedHeads was always 'organised chaos'. Well … in truth, often just 'chaos'. Couple of near death experiences, but … ten years on, it’s survived. Hasn't exactly prospered. But it’s certainly helped kick-off 'shed-ism' and 'shed wine'. (Like garagiste wines without the pretentiousness).  They say there are maybe 50 shed winery groups in South Australia 'doing a RedHeads'; tiny, single-ton, late-night ferments in odd collections of vessels to deafening rock music, aromas of pizza and whatever else young winemakers like to ingest at night.      

After a day's sightseeing where the guys have secured the select rows of old vine stuff and meeting growers who in this valley tend to be built like brick privvies with copious beards. We have a few of them over for the obligatory bbq. To meet the daft old pommy b*stard who always pays the bills for these young punks.

Selecting the grapes

And you know, the beards are surprisingly friendly. They have to be; these are growers who have all signed binding supply contracts with famous names. Their fruit is emphatically not for sale. Except … they like the RedHeads thing. And Big Famous winery isn't going to notice a pick-up of grapes sneaking off elsewhere. And growers love to see what their precious grapes turn into when not blended with a hundred other trucks of fruit from all around. They like the idea of their best fruit being hand-made by a talented guy into something amazing. They like the beers, the barbies, the chat and the music. They'll buy many bottles of their own wine for themselves.  

But there'll be enough – just – for the small but surprisingly fanatical bands of RedHeads lovers in the UK, Denmark, US, Hong Kong, Canada, Australia …

A good day; ends under a blazing sunset, standing around a glowing half oil-drum of barrel stave embers picking roast Portuguese chicken apart with the one communal fork and washing it down with a bottle or two of good old Barrel Monkeys.   

Tomorrow to McLaren Vale, birthplace of RedHeads, to try find out what the hell goes on over there. What ARE the old GreyHeads up to now? 

Sharing a beer at the BBQ