Nikki at RedHeads - a photographer to capture the moment

A photographer to capture the moment

Although we hope very much you will, many of you may well not get the chance to come out to the Barossa and see, firsthand, how we do things at RedHeads. So, to let you see in glorious, clear, sharp technicolour, we asked photographer Dragan to come and capture the moment.

Dragan in based in the Barossa nearby. Dan and I met him at the winery at 7am sharp. Before even the coffee machine got brewing, we set off to Adrian's (aka Hoffy's) vineyard in the Ebenezer district of the Barossa. Dan is going to receive Mataro from there next week and has already taken his Cabernet. The red clay earth is quite something – much like the colour you find in Coonawarra.

Our photographer, Dragan, showing
Dan in the Hoffy vineyard in Ebenezer

Lots of winery shots throughout the morning, then Dragan was back early evening to take the wind down pictures, with Dan's winemaker buddies round to help, share a beer and some pretty spectacular sausages.

Dan and Hoffy checking out the Mataro in the
Ebenezer vineyard

Meanwhile through the afternoon, I managed to empty one large vat, ready for a few basket press loads .... and stand on a nasty wasp. Ouch!

Dan plunged this vat quite a few times over
the day, to obtain just the right shot!

Nikki at RedHeads - what's that falling from sky?

What's that falling from the sky? And more barrels

Foreign stuff falling from the sky
Poured with rain last night – 3.5mm in Williamstown, plenty in Angaston and just 0.8mm in Nuri (Nuriopta). All half an hour's drive apart. That's the hills for you. Most of the grapes are in now so it's no big deal on that front, and it might delay the picking of the Mataro a day or so but otherwise it is just a thankful watering for the rest of the vines that are mighty thirsty. For us, it meant finally, after a few days of wind and cloud, there was a return of clear blue skies. Lovely.

The delicate touch
Dan explained this morning that many of the ferments were just at a delicate stage. Fermentation is beginning to drop away, so less CO2 is being produced, the gas that's been helping to protect the fruit from oxidation. As a consequence I needed to do a 'hand plunge' with most of the vats, bar the newest, just to ensure the cap remained wet.

Two 'happy' barrels, Dan had filled yesterday. Dan got
me to lift the bung and have a listen. He was right, there was
a happy 'zizz' to the wine in barrel, as it continued its gentle ferment

Missed it!
Biggest photo opportunity today was the bearded dragon standing vertical, basking in the new sunshine ... and I missed it! They seem to be 10-a-penny here in Oz or I might have persuaded Dan to stop the Ute. In England, we pay a lot of money to put one of those in a cage!

Barrels – high-pressure cleaning and gently filling
The afternoon's task was learning to pressure clean the barrels, ready for filling with new wine. Six in total. Hearing that if a part came lose of the high-pressure gear, it is likely to cause considerable damage (to your person), I listened hard and treated the machines with respect.

The six barrels we filled with the dark, spicy Malbec. Slight spillage,
but we cleaned that up afterwards

After cleaning them, we needed to fill them – with that luscious Malbec we drained to tank yesterday. A bit more listening and watching hard to learn, then I was left to it. As my 'landlord' Mark, another winemaker, said, it's 90% standing around watching down the bung hole to see each barrel fill, then 10 seconds of fear ... there are about 2 seconds from getting to the right fill in the barrel to get to the pump and switching it off, before a major vinous spill occurs. Then there's a little top up by the jug-full to minimise the ullage at the top of the barrel.

You fill the barrels as high as you dare with
the pump, then do a little top up with
the same wine from the pump-filled jug

 I didn't do too badly. I certainly didn't want to waste any of the gorgeous-smelling Malbec.

Dan was excited by the arrival of two new French oak
barrels. They were delivered by a man with a fetching
beard, a bit longer than Dan's stubble for sure

Heading East again

Early in the '70s I ventured behind the Iron Curtain travelling – nervously – in a converted Russian bomber which still had perspex turrets … presumably so it could easily convert back for WW3. But the trip was worth it … because I got there first. 

Bulgarian, Romanian and Hungarian wines, despite being, well, 'nationalised', were, I found, rather better than most cheap French or Italian wines of that time. Within a few months customers were lapping them up by the boat load. Staggeringly, in the late 1970's well over half the wine we sold came from Eastern Europe because the prices were so very low due to the then obligatory 'barter deals' (in our case, swapping containers of a well-known Cola for lorries of lovely Cabernet Sauv). Crazy, but that's how the world was back then! Too good to last, of course, and it didn't. Quality – in Bulgaria particularly – seemed to dilute after every wine retailer in Britain climbed on what I had regarded as my personal bandwagon.

Then it got worse for the East; the competition ramped up. We found bigger, bolder wines from Australia and the rest of the New World. Our 'Flying Winemakers' came over as well  and showed the cheaper French, Spanish and Italian wines how to improve. This new competition came at the same time as Communism collapsed and chaos came to the vineyards of the East. I confess I lost interest in Eastern Europe for a while.  

But of course, chaos creates opportunities. Over the last 25 years, wine things over there have been well-sorted by certain dedicated and determined people. Today 'Eastern Europe' no longer means just 'Cheap Wine'. Romania, Moldova, Hungary and Slovenia – which, for us, had been the northern (efficient) bit of Yugoslavia – in particular, are back to producing a serious number of really excellent, world-class wines … as they did for centuries before that bad old Curtain came down. 

This week, I went back east for a drive around with Beth Willard (UKWBOTY*).

The trip

1st stop Moldova … the Mysterious. It was only just before I first went there that I learnt this country existed. It was heart-breakingly poor. But it is the most wine-dominated country in the world. A quarter of the population work in wine, and have for a long time. Well, there's little else. Geese, maybe?

Moldova's black soils used to supply thirsty great Russia with most of its wine needs. In Communist times it was big, heavy reds for big, heavy Reds. In return Russia supplied Moldova with most of its problems. Hence the country being very poor.

What we like best today are its whites. Our Albastrele wines: Chardonnay, Pinot Grigio, Sauvignon Blanc have done well for years and will be outstanding this year (improved, winemaking and a surprisingly good vintage that far east). Looking forward, those big reds are capturing our interest. They are getting much better.  Work in progress, early days, but looking good. 

 

Transylvania

 

2nd stop, Romania, which makes masses of wine but exports relatively little. I like lots of it but I find my favourites are usually made from either Pinot Noir or Chardonnay. This country does a superb Burgundy rip-off. You really can't tell it’s not the real thing.

But I have another love. For the old, famous-for-centuries, real Romanian style, you just MUST try the Feteascas.  'Fet - Asca' as it is pronounced means 'Maiden'. There's a White Maiden grape; Feteasca Alba which makes crisp, dry whites you might think came from somewhere up the Loire. Dry as dry but with an original taste of honey, especially when from the high vineyards of Transylvania. Even more especially when made in new barrels, not of oak, but of acacia wood. 

And then there is the Black Maiden Feteasca Negra which, in style, we place between Rioja's Tempranillo and the Merlot of Bordeaux. Think purple fruits; blueberry, plums and such, but well-rounded and velvety.  With some time in bottle it gets to taste very classy. Our 'Burebista' Shiraz Feteasca Negra is delicious. But just try sitting on it for a year or so. I really like Romania, particularly the unspoilt Transylvania; the last wilderness left in Europe. Prince Charles has restored several old houses there and visits regularly. It has 6000 bears, wolves too, but no vampires. That's a myth.     

3rd stop Hungary. In the '70's I listed this wine called 'Badacsonyi Szuruebarat'. Excellent dry white from around Lake Balaton. Didn't sell too well, unsurprisingly … nobody could pronounce it. I still can't. But remarkably, that same wine has now become our No.1 seller white wine. The trick is, we now use the wine's Italian name; Pinot Grigio. 'Campanula' PG, named for the little blue flowers that grow on the estate. One day I must go to Lake Balaton in the summer when they tell me the place is one big party. Because Balaton (very big), in landlocked Hungary, is its 'seaside'.  It’s always deserted when we visit in winter. 

Further south the region around Vilan used to supply me with a Pinot Noir called Villanyi Burgundi. Try that name now and the French'd lock me up. We were too early to try the young Pinot Noir reds but Beth has lined stuff up for her next trip and is sure she'll find a winner.

4th stop Slovenia. Hurtling on, we went down the motorway (a clever one where you don't have to stop for tolls - you just put a sticker on the windscreen) into  a wine-obsessed little country of only 2 million but which has 27,000 wine growers! Mostly for personal consumption. Clearly, Slovenians are clever people.

The country is sub-alpine with the eastern or 'Julian' Alps towering to the north. (Anyone remember that 'Alpi Juliani' wine we got the original Flying Winemaker, Martin Shaw of 'Smith and Shaw', to make for us here, early '90's?) So it’s Swiss-like: immaculate; no litter; well-trimmed fields; neat woods; tidy log piles; bright painted chalets; well-tended vegetable gardens and small, steep vineyards.

At the winery we saw a guy hoisted 30 feet up by forklift, scrubbing the concrete beams till they gleamed. Outside, a girl was taking apart and polishing the light fittings. Clean? It’s NASA-standard here. So, unsurprisingly the wines come out squeaky-clean, slim, mineral, delicate and delightful. Audrey Hepburn wines (as against the Sophia Lorens from just over the Italian border). 

Adore them all; Sauvignon Blanc - but not as we know it, Pinot Gris rather than Grigio, Riesling, Traminer, Muscat – it’s sort of like Alsace but less French, more Swiss. And wines that hardly seem to age at all.    

Very young Slovenian wines

Nor do the vines. In Maribor I posed with the 'world's oldest' (Guinness Book) vine which of course will invite rude captions – but I'm not quite 400 years old.

And I have returned rejuvenated and inspired  from this little jaunt (well, as far as Stanstead and the M25 anyway). I predict an imminent surge in Wines from Eastern Europe, not because they are cheap but because they are brilliant and fascinatingly, subtly different.

This week, Beth and I will be marching around the office shouting "Noroc" "Egészégedre" and "Na Zdravje!" until everyone gets the message.

*Beth was recently voted 'UK Wine Buyer of The Year!'

Club 55, St Tropez …

… the most glamorous beach restaurant in the world. Marks the spot on Pampelone beach where the phenomenon that is today's St Tropez began. St Tropez had been just a small fishing village nestled amongst vineyards until Brigitte Bardot made her first film there in 1955. She changed everything. The stars, the money and the super yachts flooded in. And the villas went up over rather too many old Grenache vineyards.

A friend

Bardot still lives amidst the vines of the remaining vignerons, and from  a group of these guys we have, for many years, been able to offer a great Rosé de Provence - from the few remaining pockets of old vines - called 'St Tropez'.

St Tropez vineyards

Today we met the grower's leader at Club 55. Well, he offered, so …  Under the trees, the place looks a picnic … but not a picnic as we know it, Captain. We'd never eaten at such a place before.   What was more surprising was that neither had our vigneron chum, despite being lifelong friend and neighbour of its owner.

He told us the story: Roger Vadim made his 'And God Created Woman' film on the beach in front of the holiday cabin of a Professor and his wife. The film crew asked them to help out with food and the poor lady found herself cooking for everyone all that summer … and the next. So … end of their tranquil holiday life. Their son the ethnologist Jean de Colmont now presides over a party that has continued to this day.

They say that should the crowd here – their Bentleys and Ferraris one side, their great yachts the other – ever be held-up at gunpoint the haul could pay off France's National Debt … a thought which must have occurred to President Hollande.

There are two entirely separate worlds at St Tropez. The post-1955 bling, and the old vigneron families clinging stubbornly to their old ways. In summer the winemakers now work at night; the only time the roads aren't jammed to a standstill. In the past we put in flying winemakers here to improve the wine we got but that is quite unnecessary now. They're good. We just have to come here early; like now – and again in a month – to make sure we have the best of the old vine stuff.

Simple … now. 2014 looking good, aromatic and abundant. Rare, that.

 

Doc Brun

On to next place; the winery of Doctor Brun...who left the family farm to become, for 30 years,  the local doctor. But when his father unexpectedly died he had to run the estate as well. Now retired as 'le toubib' (slang for doctor) at 66 he is still making wine in what might look to many like a garage in Gonfaron. He does it exceptionally well – has the good kit and the know-how – and has built the estate up to an impressive 50 hectares.

Domaine de Paris

We've worked with him many years.  There is a large family house in the vineyards called Paris - no-one knows why - but the family have never lived there. It’s just for reunions and parties he says … and he'll smarten it up one day, maybe! The Doctor, his son, daughter and Glaswegian son in law all actually live in the town next to the garage winery.

In Provence, there are many who have spent millions adding grandeur to their wine estates. Nobody should be fooled; ornamental gates, lawns, flamingoes and big swimming pools do not make a wine any better than that of the quiet, retired, respected Doctor in his anonymous garage by the village fountain under the plane trees. 

Relaxed glass or two, with him sitting by said fountain. Before driving on to Brignoles and a favourite hotel (much better than our usual standard) 'Abbaye de la Celle' where they put me (le Big Boss) in the bed they built specially for De Gaulle who hid away here to write his memoirs. It’s very long, black and grandly ornate … hope I can sleep.