Are External Influences reshaping Australian Riesling?

One of the most striking things about the recent International Riesling Tasting hosted in Melbourne by Frankland Estate was how easy it was to spot the local Australian wines. Good as the best undoubtedly are, they have little in common with the contemporary dry classics from Germany, France and Austria.

That, I believe, comes down to history and isolation as much as it does to terroir. It’s possible to trace the traditions that have shaped the evolution of Australian riesling. Orlando’s introduction of cold pressure fermentation technology in the early 1950s gave winemakers the tools to capture the variety’s fragrance, crispness and perfume. John Vickery’s tenure at Leo Buring then left a legacy of long living, bone-dry, tightly protected and spotlessly clean riesling capable of maturing for decades. Brian Croser then tweaked the process, first by making popular rieslings with residual sugar levels that appealed to their market, then by making riper, fully-dry wines in what he described as the ‘dry spatlese’ style. This is the model for most modern Australian riesling, which has since been tuned even further by the modern masters, led by Jeffrey Grosset.

The outcome of all of this has been a sound, consistent and oft-repeated model of Australian riesling. Given a small amount of fine-tuning with issues like fining, acid addition and management of sulphur dioxide, there hasn’t been much in the way of winemaking innovation with this grape. In itself that isn’t necessarily a bad thing, since as all makers of quality riesling would agree, much of the work behind a great riesling takes place in the vineyard.

It’s also perhaps because of the steady, consistent fashion in which Australian winemakers treat their riesling that the regional differences in its wines are so well known and widely accepted. Our two most feted riesling regions at this point in time are both located in South Australia. The Clare Valley’s wines are ripe, juicy and punchy, delivering intense lemon/lime flavours framed by steely acids. The best can be exceptionally aromatic in their youth, and can develop slowly for many years. On the other hand, the Eden Valley’s rieslings are tighter, finer and more powdery. They often reveal a bathpowder-like scent, while their palate structure is fine, tight and chalky. They’re also capable of exceptional longevity.

Joining these regions, but less consistently so, are the rieslings from Western Australia’s Great Southern. While there’s considerable variation within this large and diverse region, there’s a pleasing muskiness and spice about the perfume of the best of them, which can retain their racy freshness and zest well into their second decade.

Tasmania has also shown itself capable of truly outstanding and entirely different riesling, structured more along Alsatian lines than those traditionally associated with mainland Australia. Riesling of some class is also grown in Mansfield and in the Nagambie Lakes region of Victoria, as well as in the Adelaide Hills and western Victoria.

Do we really know what we’re doing?



The question I couldn’t help musing over during this tasting, which included leading wines from Austria, Alsace, Germany, New Zealand and the United States, was whether or not the practices deployed by Australian winemakers are in fact getting the most from the riesling fruit grown here. By comparison with the best from Europe, they tended to appear rather one-dimensional and excessively clinical. Sure, that can be overcome with bottle-age, but riesling should arguably be a darned good drink even in its youth. The younger European wines tended to offer more in terms of intensity, complexity, structure and refreshment.

Without suggesting for a moment that Australian makers suddenly abandon the approach that has created their proud heritage of riesling, I think there’s everything to gain and nothing to lose by paying serious attention to the very different techniques and philosophies deployed on the other side of the world. Our makers can then experiment, before selectively adopting or ignoring ideas as they choose.

It was no coincidence to me that one of the wines that really stood out in the blind tasting – which in my notes I described as obviously Australian but with distinctive Austrian influences – was the 2001 Isolation Ridge Riesling made by the company that staged the event, Frankland Estate. No other Australian maker has taken this particular bit between the teeth to quite the same extent as this small Western Australian producer. In my opinion its riesling has not only improved in quality since Barrie Smith and Judi Cullam have taken and deployed advice from Austria, but their wines have become more distinctive and expressive as a result. For this maker at least, it’s a win on several levels.

Opening eyes to different techniques.



There’s plenty of open mutual admiration between the best international riesling makers. There’s also a healthy dialogue between them, based on a willingness to travel, observe, taste and exchange ideas. To these people at large, riesling is as much of a drug to be craved for as is pinot noir for other makers and palates.

Australians typically frown on the notion of using any oak in contact with young riesling, but that’s perhaps simply a relic of traditional Roseworthy and Wagga Wagga-generated thought processes. Certainly, riesling and oak – and I’m talking here about large, older oak cooperage – are not strange bedfellows in Europe.

In 2004, Frankland’s Judi Cullam is looking forward to using for the first time with riesling her new 1,000-litre oak vat, a vessel she has conditioned over the past few years with chardonnay. The attraction of this cask is that hundreds of years of European experience suggests that it might play a role in enhancing the texture, stability and complexity of riesling, as well as having a positive effect with regard to softening acids. As air seeps slowly through their pores, the large old casks are in all likelihood treating the wine not unlike the modern process of micro-oxygenation. As Patrick Walsh, a Melbourne-based importer and distributor of several leading European rieslings observes, it’s also possibly the reason why the leading European rieslings fermented and matured in this way appear to retain their freshness and vitality for longer once their bottles are opened. Australian rieslings, on the other hand, which are typically made with the total exclusion of air, can diminish fairly quickly in their youth by comparison.

A few sites in the Eden Valley aside, there’s also little in common between the European vineyard sites that produce the best rieslings and the leading Australian locations. The tougher, rockier, steeper conditions provided by the leading European sites tend to restrict the viticultural options to anything other than simply nurturing a crop to its full potential of ripeness. That’s the true art in marginal climates, which is then followed up by a series of selective passes over the vineyards at harvest, picking bunches individually and only when truly ripe.

Judi Cullam appreciates the extent to which Europe’s best riesling makers push the boundaries. ‘They’re absolutely dedicated to each bunch, and are extremely fastidious when picking’, she says. ‘They then bring fruit in from the vineyard in small quantities, before fermenting in small volumes. You’ll see lots of different ferments from a single vineyard.’

According to Patrick Walsh, the best contemporary makers of riesling in Austria are merging together ideas both old and new. ‘They’re embracing everything traditional, and infusing that with high-tech practices and modern equipment to bring out the truest and fullest expressions of their vineyards, without being clouded by winemaking artefact’, he says. ‘The guys handling riesling properly get more interesting and more exotic flavours and less straight up-and-down flavours than those employing a more normal handling of their fruit.’

Techniques being deployed in these so-called ‘traditional’ European regions include oxidative handling with low sulphur levels, which is often followed by a decent shot of sulphur dioxide at bottling. Some makers are using a pre-fermentation cold soak, encouraging the development of rounder textures and secondary flavours. Others are playing with extended lees contact after fermentation, sometimes in the process developing profoundly wild and woolly flavours that do perhaps mask site-derived character in favour of winemaking expressiveness.

Judi Cullam is deploying both approaches. She finds that the cold soak enhances her wine’s density and generosity, yet also manages to accentuate the earthiness and minerality that she and many others find attractive in her wines.

She has also been closely watching the use of ‘indigenous’ yeasts in European riesling. ‘I don’t think we appreciate the full extent of what they do’, she says. ‘It takes about six years to move all the way from cultured yeasts to them, and it can cause a lot of angst with long, slow ferments and the occasional development of off characters in some of them. Some wines can then begin looking very funky and reductive, but can settle down later after this awkward stage.’

Cullam is now working to introduce fermentation with native yeasts at Frankland Estate. Part of the challenge she faces is to manage sulphur dioxide additions correctly. ‘We add a minimal amount as the fruit comes in the door, and we’re extra cautious after that’, she says. ‘That small dose tends to knock out the poorer wild yeasts, allowing the more robust yeasts to come through after that and deliver a cleaner ferment. Neither do we rush into sulphur additions after the ferment.’

Or is it an Issue of Site?



Well before issues like cellar management even come into play, I suggest that in all likelihood many of Australia’s best future sites for riesling haven’t even been planted yet. When planting grapes, Australians have typically stayed down on the flat, where vineyards can be fully mechanized, tractors don’t fall over and soils are marginally deeper. I think there’s going to be a thoughtful, civilised, but energetic move in Australia to find the next generation of riesling vineyard sites, where the grapes are put right on the edge of survival. Not quite in the very literal sense of the Mosel River, but certainly on mean, inhospitable slopes perhaps not entirely unlike the historic Steingarten vineyard in the Eden Valley, where fruit cannot be depended upon every year to reach the quality required for the eponymous wine made by Orlando.

I look forward to more Australian winemakers following the model established at Frankland Estate, which now releases no less than four individual vineyard rieslings. ‘We had a few sites to choose from’, says Judi Cullam, ‘about 3,000 acres to be precise.’

‘The further we go down this path and the further we push the notion of single vineyard rieslings, the more exciting the variety will become’, says Walsh, who suggests that there must already be interesting and marketable variation within the large riesling vineyards already in existence in Australia, whose fruit is homogenized the moment it is harvested. ‘In Austria and Germany, these batches would be kept separate’, he says.

It really comes down to Taste



There’s plenty of incentive for makers to go the extra yards. Our top rieslings are becoming more and more expensive, yet they sell out quickly. You still get change in your hand from a $100 bill if you buy two bottles of the most expensive Australian riesling, or a single bottle of one of the most sought-after dry rieslings from Austria or Germany. But wherever it’s from or whatever its price, riesling still beats the pants of most chardonnay for value. ‘There’s an emerging acceptance that it’s okay to pay more for small-volume riesling that is dry grown, low cropped and sought-after’, Walsh observes.

As we’re finding with those at the cutting edge of Australian pinot noir and chardonnay, Judi Cullam recognises the potential danger of attempting to look too European. ‘You can’t anyway, because you’re in Australia, with Australian soils and terroir’, she argues. ‘You want to be seen to be yourself, making your own wine, retaining and enhancing your own individuality. It’s important to respect your site, your terroir, and what you have here.’

Amen to that.

Here are a few of the notes I took at this tasting. Because Frankland Estate’s Isolation Ridge Riesling 2001 was perhaps the most interesting and European-influenced of the Australian wine present, I thought I’d show you how it compared to what I considered to be the finest Austrian rieslings on show there.

Frankland Estate Isolation Ridge Riesling 2001

$20 retail, approx. 18.6

Very stylish, complex young riesling with a delicate floral perfume suggestive of honeysuckle, lime juice, minerals and earthy, lees-derived complexity. Pleasing richness and structure, styled along modern Austrian bony lines, with intense varietal fruits offset by clever use of winemaking-derived complexity, finishing long, dry and mineral. Drink 2006-2009+.

Emmerich Knoll Dursteiner Schutt Smaragd Riesling 2001

19.2

Opulent, heady and spicy rose petal perfume, before a rather opulent and unctuous palate, round and almost oily, culminating in a gentle, almost caressing finish of controlled acidity. Exceptionally long, smooth and seamless, beautifully textured riesling. Drink 2009-2013+.

Alzinger Loibner Steinertal Smaragd Riesling 2001

18.9

Slightly cheesy, leesy elements and some bacon-like suggestions of reduction permeate the delicate and lightly spicy apple blossom and pear notes of this very sculpted, stylish riesling. Sumptuous in its structure and texture, but also tightly focused and refreshing to finish, its tangy and concentrated flavours culminate in bracing acidity and a lingering, dry and savoury finish. Drink 2009-2013+.

Prager Weissenkirchener Klaus Smaragd Riesling 2001

18.8

Delicate but complex earthy, nutty and citrus aromas with minerals, and leesy complexity. Racy, taut and austere, the chiseled, steely palate has exceptional length and intensity of penetrative lime, lemon and apple flavours. Superbly shaped, elegant and balanced. Drink 2013-2021.

FX Pichler Dursteiner Kellerberg Smaragd Riesling 2001

$110 retail, approx. 18.2

Complex, musky fragrance of spicy lemon blossom, wet stone and earthy lees influences, with a hint of bathpowder. Rather thick and heavily worked but very concentrated and powerful, finishing a shade sweeter than desirable. Not for the faint-hearted. Drink 2009-2013+. Please login to post comment