Each time I visit Perth I feel older, much older than the last time I came. It’s akin to catching up with an old friend and their children have grown six inches since you last saw them. You see the jump, but none of the in between. That’s what takes you by surprise. How can things have changed so much. Where did the time go?

With the exception of the Bird, Perth City & Northbridge generally irks me these days. I feel uncomfortable and like an outsider. The Northern urban sprawl comes across as if someone hit copy and paste 25 times, the nuances lost on me. I find the Western Suburbs eerie, full of almost forgotten memories that no longer seem real. Outside of the glorious beaches and the river, it remains a strange universe, full of people who never leave. They share the spaces with the ghosts of people who grew up there and have since left, more often than not losing their appetite to ever return. Absurd money fills that void, and the whole place feels like the split in an iceberg. Slowly drifting away, detaching itself further from reality with each passing day. Victoria Park is familiar and vibrant, but only Fremantle, and the surrounding suburbs feel welcoming. The stretch of High Street between Market Street and the Roundhouse its zenith. Timeless old buildings, record and book shops, fancy op-shops. The distinctive pale green entrance to the Buffalo club, the waft of freshly ground coffee every half block or so. The calming rhythm of people not in a rush, ticking and swaying at the same tempo I hear in my head. Only here, in Fremantle does my unease at being in the city become enveloped in a calm sense of things being the way they should be. And long may it live. There is solace in the knowledge that no new-wave architect would dare destroy the soul of this stretch of the road.

Yearning for calm seems futile anyway, when it seems like the whole entire world is stuck in a tiny room talking over each other. I can empathise with people whose solution is to join in, and start shouting loudly rather than get drowned out and slowly wither: you either join in and raise your voice or you make a run for it. Mentally I’m so far gone I’m halfway across the Pacific Ocean, but physically I’m fumbling trying to tie the laces on my running shoes, or splutter out the secret password for the exit.

Well written novels about meandering upper-middle class lives from seventy years ago, nature and a well-stocked cellar seem to be the best form of escape at the moment, but even those are not without trouble. As I go through my cellar and tuck into bottles buried for ten or fifteen years I’ve had what must have been one of the dullest wine epiphanies of all time. How dearly I wanted to be properly seduced by the Nerello Mascalese wines from the mysterious, volcanic slopes of Etna, or fall head over heels for the Zinfandel field blends from vineyards that survived prohibition in the Alexander Valley. Or shed a tear for those Syrah vineyards that capture the perfect bend in the river in the Northern Rhone valley, or the fine boned Rieslings of Mosel, so sharp you could cut a diamond with them. But alas, as much as I enjoy those wines and everything in between, as I go through my cellar I find myself increasingly drawn to the classic old ‘aged Cabernets’ genre of wine. How boring! The words ‘have the courage to be the person you really are’* echo in my head, and so be it. Those days in Perth have convinced me I’m getting far too old to be waiting for an epiphany that will likely never come.

None of this detracts from my love of Western Australian Pinot of course, which remains a major fascination. The best operators do things very well down here – and I feel like if I were to plant I’d be clumsily attempting to do basically the same thing with younger vines and less talent. So as for my own vineyard, which all going well will have its first vines in the ground come spring, I’ve decided to follow my heart and plant boring old Cabernet, going against some very sound advice it must be said.  

I’ll articulate my plan here, if for no other reason than to look back and shake my head at my own stupidity. Nothing I’m not used to. Ripening Cabernet in Pemberton is a marginal prospect at best, and the longer grapes are on the vine here the more likely disease, bird damage, and in particular smoke damage from the large amounts of autumn fires are likely to ruin a vintage. The best wines in France are planted where the chosen varietal will only just ripen. Vines need to struggle a bit or the outcome is generally mediocrity. Maybe I’ll only make a decent wine every three years or so. The other years they may struggle a bit too much. But there are positives too.

My site, at the highest point on my property is barely twenty kilometers to the coast as the crow flies, cool, and almost maritime. The chance of a frost is slim. The gentle slope catches the last glimpse of the afternoon sun. An East – West orientation should give me flexibility when it comes to canopy management. Gravelly Karri Loam sits underneath. They’d kill for these soils elsewhere, I’m sure of it. I am hoping these stones retain some heat to maintain an even ripening process – as it does in other sites in the area. My inspiration, both in bottle and in the vineyard is left bank Bordeaux. The cordon wire will sit at 400ml above the ground, to keep the grapes in proximity to those stones. Both the rows and the vines themselves will be planted far closer together than is conventional. 1.25 meters between rows and one metre spacings between vines – close to what is standard in a classed growth vineyard, yet for some reason seen as cutting edge unique and trendy here in Australia (sigh!). Having seen the incredible quality of fruit in ‘Bills block’ at Picardy (which is even lower and closer than what I’m thinking) I’m confident that though a bit more work, this is the way to go to achieve even ripeness and quality fruit. 

The Bordeaux styled wines of the Southern Forests (some of which have turned out very, very well with age) tended to be based predominantly on Merlot and Cab Franc. From what I can deduce, the plantings went in on a hunch that Right bank blends might suit the region, and the percentages in the vineyard ended up the same in the wine. I’m not a big fan of the Merlot clone that abounds, nor Merlot or Cab Franc as varietals in general. Drinkability young isn’t of much interest to me. With that in mind, the starting point will be 100% Cabernet Sauvignon. It works in Coonawarrra (which climatically, from a temperature perspective at least, is very similar). In the better wines in Margaret River and cooler vintages in Bordeaux the Cabernet percentage jumps up in the blend, often quite close to 100%. How much Merlot (or Malbec / Franc / Verdot) the wine needs to round out can be worked out at a later date rather than doing the guess work now. So who knows, but that’s the plan as it stands on this cold winter morning.

Back to the Pinot’s then. I gave a little vintage run down a few posts ago, but here’s a refresher given that the Southern Forests 22’s are basically all released now with the (excellent) Picardy Tete. 2022 Batista will follow soon: I’ve tasted it and it’ll require some patience in bottle anyway. If I had to generalise, the 2022 wines are generous, with plenty of upfront fruit but lacking a bit of structure/shape. Your classic 8/10 vintage. My gut feel is they will close up at some stage, perhaps soon, but should ultimately cellar long term reasonably well. Just don’t expect perfectly balanced, harmonious wines. The 23’s are going to need more patience and understanding, as the vintage was difficult in spots and quality won’t be homogenous. Tasting the 23 Lillian Lefroy Brook side by side with 22 was a resounding win for the (quite spectacular) 23. The reverse may be true elsewhere. The 24’s fill me trepidation just thinking about them, whilst going on the five or six properties I spent time at during vintage, the 2025’s are going to be good-to-very good. I doubt anything will surpass the 18’s or 20’s though. Indeed there is certainly room for another humdinger of a vintage. Hopefully I should get around to writing up some of the two dozen or so local Pinots I’ve got on hand once it warms up a bit.

* Dick started Grace Family vineyards in the Napa valley and speaks very well in a podcast episode of ‘I’ll drink to that’. He repeats this line a fair bit and it stuck with me.

So not wine related – I wrote this for that short story comp The West does each year. Some decent prize money on offer, always worth a go. Anyways, didn’t crack the top fifty so I’m free to share it. False modesty not required – there is nothing overly spectacular here, but still a couple of decent lines I think, so hopefully someone enjoys.

THE ROADHOUSE

After almost a hundred kilometres of open road, flanked on either side by scrub or sparse farmland, Lincoln felt relief to be finally approaching a town. He slowed his vehicle down with the gradual tapping of his brake pedal, and now felt safe enough to let his eyes and mind wander from the road and into the nuances of this particular place.

The first house on the left was predominantly just a yard, with old cars, some completely rusted, and sprawled in an unorganised way. The house an afterthought: lived in perhaps, but not maintained. On his right, he noticed what once must have been a beautiful old church, but in this light it only looked depressing. Its timeless qualities vanquished through vandalism and neglect. 

Lincoln would usually feel a strange sensation as he drove through the small towns he passed on his journeys. He’d find himself being drawn into the soul of a town as if he’d always lived there, and knew the place intricately. A single glance could solidify an image, akin to a still photograph, which would then come to life in his mind. They weren’t exact story lines, but more of a hazy sense of well-being that he found impossible to describe or fully understand. He did not need to step barefoot on the footpath to feel its warmth, nor taste the cold air to feel it rush through his lungs. He didn’t need to see people in the street to hear them talk. It was only through driving through quaint country towns did all five of his senses felt so in-tune, so full of life, sparked by an imagination that was out of his own control.

Yet the whole experience was usually fleeting. As soon as he tried to isolate a specific person, or the words they were saying the whole thing would vanish, only to reappear when his mind drifted back to concentrating on the road. Usually, he felt it merely in a pleasant and almost subconscious way, although every now and then it would become so overwhelming he would need to pull over.  

This drive had been particularly long, and he had found his thoughts drifting in a purely negative direction. On why he was the way he was, of every mistake he’d ever made. Having to learn every lesson the hard way. Only the sparsely appearing towns gave him something in which he could let his thoughts escape into. But after such a long anticipation, he was disappointed. No images were solidifying behind his eyes. There were no stills of well-presented families in their Sundays best. No white noise snippets of conversations over a barbeque at the tennis club, or mindless small talk in front of the general store between two acquaintances to give him respite from his inwardly aimed thoughts.

By the time he’d reached the middle of the town, the main road slicing it in half, Lincoln found himself becoming hyper aware. Unrelaxed. Analytical. The houses that lined the highway stood out as individuals: they were neighbours, but not friends. Signs of life, but devoid of positive energy. In one front yard long, unkempt grass, that had once reached for the sun with enthusiasm was now standing up too tall, begging for attention. Seasonally, it was the tail end of a long winter, yet the top half of the grass was brown. A metronome, it waved back and forth with the gusts of the gentle breeze. After another dozen houses, the town was finished, until on the very far edge of town a roadhouse emerged. A last gasp oasis, promising a stale and civilised protection from the elements. Showing off its bright lights, a castle neatly surrounded by a concrete moat. Lincoln glanced down his fuel gauge and instinctively pulled in to fill.

In contrast to the town itself, the roadhouse a beacon of activity. A scene of organised chaos. Trucks, cars and caravans justled for spots to fill. Approaching the automatic doors unleashed a new and sickly sensation, The thick petroleum oil smells of outside melded with the intoxicating, yet enticing smells of an overworked deep fryer, invading separate nostrils. 

Inside were two neat aisles of packaged food: chips and chocolate and everything in between. On the left was a drinks fridge, stacked with iced coffee, energy drinks and soft drinks. All of which were keenly aimed to give the weary traveller the exact combination of sugar and caffeine to get them another however-many-more miles down the road. The way it was all laid out was something to behold. A place for everything and everything in its place. Such intent and precision, as if some sort of perfection had been achieved here. 

“Just the fuel love?” said an older woman interrupting his daze. Her name tag read ‘Donna’, the bags under her eyes practically rolling hills in the context of the flat landscape that surrounded the town. 

“Yeah, yep. The petrol in number 3. Oh. And this”. He pointed to the iced coffee he’d plucked from the fridge. 

“And. Actually, can I get a toasted ham and cheese sandwich as well.”

“Do you want me to make that fresh for you love.”?

“Ah…sure.”

“With chips.?”

“Ah. Sure.” “Why not” he added unnecessarily after an awkward pause.

“Take a seat, I’ll bring that over.” An open palm gestured towards the restaurant section.

Lincoln wandered briskly past a table of motor cycle gang members, carefully not to make eye contact. One of them was doing all the talking, whilst the rest only seemed to be half listening. An older couple sat on another table, steam heaving out of the top of their freshly arrived coffees and a newspaper spread out across the plastic table and cheap tablecloth. Locals, he wondered, but it was hard to tell. It was one of those places where perhaps no one was from here, and yet everyone belonged here. In particular this old couple looked too comfortable in their environment to be simply passing through. Instead, they gave the impression of meandering the day away, watching all the strange and interesting people come and go. Perhaps this was their daily activity? They looked about the same age as his aunt, who had moved to the South of France about five years ago, just before he had finished high school. When he visited her last year, he had found a curiosity in her lifestyle. She would spend her days walking down limestone steps to the terrace, frequenting the different cafes which were blessed with a view of the Mediterranean. A book in one hand, a cigarette in the other. A cup of coffee, sometimes two to prolong lazy hours of people watching. The saline breeze would come in the afternoons, cooling her face, and bringing a dramatic sense of flair to passers-by on foot, as the breeze moved their clothes so poetically that it almost seemed choreographed. What was the difference, he wondered, between what happened here, and his aunt? The ingredients were different but the recipe was the same. Simple consumable pleasures and people watching. Passing the day away as another coloured dot in a masterpiece painting that only the artist could see. 

Different, he thought.

But the same.

Lincoln found himself a seat with a view towards the till so he could anticipate his food arriving, and his sense of well-being returned. He didn’t need a newspaper or something in front of him to hold his attention. Instead, he enjoyed letting his thoughts and feelings escape himself as they flowed consciously into the lives of others. 

Then he saw her. 

Her backpack came off, moving smoothly into her hands to carry it, followed by her rain jacket and hood, enabling her short blonde hair to announce itself to the room. Lincoln sat up in his chair, as if his iced coffee had shot a lightning bolt up his spine. There was nothing to interrupt his line of sight and he remained transfixed. 

“So, there’s no bus that leaves from here? Nothing passing through. There must be something like that?”

“Sorry love. Not that I know of.”

“Well look, I’m rather stranded and desperately trying to get to the big smoke.”

The agitation in her voice increased as Donna’s face got blanker. Lincoln, eavesdropping also thought he’d heard an accent. Was she English, or just had less of an Australian ‘twang’ than he’d become accustomed to on the road?

“There must be some way of getting there, a bus? A train?”

“A catamaran?” she added sharply in disbelief, her voice cracking at the absurdity of it all.  

“I’m sorry dear, but unless you want to pay for fuel, or want something to eat and drink there is not much I can help you with.”

Lincoln was still transfixed as he watched the new arrival with the blonde hair pause for a few deep breaths and scan the interior of the roadhouse, looking for a sympathetic face. She had made her way almost fully across the room, when she found Lincoln staring back at her. She sent him a sarcastic, lingering smile, coupled with a shake of the head that said ‘can you believe this?’. Perhaps it was the stillness of the previous image, or this newcomer losing her cool that enabled him to find his. Lincoln found himself standing up and before he’d had time to think he had wandered over, instinctively opening up his hands in an attempt to seem non-threatening.

“I’m heading that way. I’d be happy to give you a lift.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah, I’m not a hitchhiker. But thanks anyway.” No accent.

“No problem, just an offer.” he said nonchalantly, flicking the briefest of smiles. 

He went back to his seat, still feeling his calm and wondered how quickly he could eat and leave. It felt like only a few seconds of staring down at the table that he looked up again at the till, only to have the lady standing right there in front of him. 

“Which car are you driving?”

It may have been the creases in her face as she seemed a bit older from this angle. Almost pretty, but there was personality there. He sensed a ball of energy, of entertainment waiting to be unlocked. Being dumbstruck by beauty can force a pause, but curiosity and anticipation can bring about more enquiries.

“I’m driving the red Commodore. But first, I’ve got a Michelin star toasted sandwich coming my way.”

She laughed and it felt genuine enough for a sense that the ice had been properly broken. Being able to make her laugh felt almost euphoric. He wanted more of that. She sat down and he put out his hand for her to shake.

“Lincoln.” he mumbled.

“I’m Julia. And I’m still not really a hitchhiker.”

“Well, I’m not really a taxi driver”. To this she didn’t laugh. Instead, she placed her elbows on the table, then hands on her face, sliding them up as if her head was an egg, sitting snugly in a little egg-cup. A plate of food appeared in front of him out of nowhere, and he despite not wanting to eat in front of Julia, he figured it would look very strange if he didn’t. 

At first, while he ate, he offered up some light small talk, mainly questions, but the answers that came were monosyllabic; she seemed intent on keeping her mystery. That didn’t suit him too well as he was hoping to listen while he focussed on his sandwich. The longer the silence went, the more pressure he felt to say something worthwhile. From afar he felt comfortable staring at her non-stop but now she was at his table he was almost afraid to make eye contact. Out of desperation, his eyes drifted over to another table. 

Gesturing with his eyes, the words “what do you think of that lot?” finally emerged.

“Terrifying mob. You wouldn’t want to know what they get up to most of the time.”

She was back!

Again, he glanced over. Collectively their skin, their full body tattoos were terrifying. They looked like the desk at the very back of the classroom. Who would want that on their face?

“Oh absolutely. But those jackets they wear.”

“I don’t think they’d suit you.” she said, teasing gently.

“I can’t argue there. But I do like ‘em. They’re pretty intricate things. All the patches, and logos. I wonder who does all that design. All the sewing and what-not. I mean, is one of them, like a part time drug dealer and part time wizard with a needle and thread? 

“I really don’t know. Can I have a chip.”?

“Sure.”

“So why don’t you just go and ask them”?

Lincoln got up with intent, keeping eye contact with her the whole time. Hoping to hear a ‘don’t be silly’, or see some kind of flicker in her eyes. But if it happened, he never noticed it. Confidence floated through the air, and it seemed again he had chosen to breath it in, and mix it in with the fresh dose of caffeine moving through his veins. Was it nervous energy coupled with that sensation of your mind no longer controlling your body? Or rather that feeling of calm familiarity, the fleeting bliss of self-destructive behaviour, something he’d come to cautiously treasure. 

Julia picked over the last chips on his plate. He had left the larger ones, the less crunchy ones. Scavenging a stranger’s leftovers off the plate of roadhouse food felt like a new low. But one to laugh about rather than cry. There was a loud bang on a table behind her. Turning around, she saw Lincoln making a speedy exit. One of the bikies was massaging his fist, which had obviously met with the table to intimidate her new acquaintance. But whilst Lincoln was running, none of them of them seemed intent on chasing, and on the whole they seemed somewhere between mildly annoyed and mildly amused by whatever he had just said. 

The thought that Lincoln might be about do a runner on her then entered her head. Outside, Julia caught up to him and grabbed his arm. He looked relieved to see her. 

“Are they following us”?

“Give us your keys.” 

“Are they following us”? he repeated.

“Of course not. Give us your keys, let’s make a move.”
“What? Why do you want to drive my car?”

“Look down at your hands mate.” The accent was back.

Lincoln looked down at his arm, at his hands shaking wildly.

Still shaking, he reaching into his pockets and handed over the keys.

“I think your phone might be ringing.” he joked, referring to the inadvertent jingling. 

He received only a glare back. Julia threw her back-pack and rain jacket on the back seat as if she had taken ownership of the car. She had stolen it right in front of him. His thoughts began to spiral again. 

It was going to be a long drive.

A stunning set of releases from Picardy this year, which makes it very easy to write about. It’s been interesting following the 2022 Shiraz from early in its life to now as it evolved. Occasionally showing incredibly bright fruits, sometimes in conjunction with incredible width and power, to where it is now where it is slightly taut and hiding a few things. It’s all there though, I’m sure of that and I’d be cellaring this one for a good decade plus as they tend to show very well in these kind of vintages. The 2022 Estate Pinot is an absolute no brainer – it warms my soul to think how many bottles of this will be enjoyed over the Perth Spring and Summer, and for years down the track. And the 2022 Tete is coming next year(!), it will be hard to keep a lid on that one.

Picardy Sauvignon blanc / Semillon 2024

The 2024 Sauvignon Blanc / Semillon is fresh and enlivening, and with a few more tricks up its sleeve this vintage to boot. Quite savoury for the varietals, citrus, pith and blossom notes sit atop the stone fruit and melon, beguiled as the wine warmed up. Long and convincing, the wine finishes on a cashew and sumptuous nashi pear note. Very tidy!

Picardy Pinot Noir 2022

Enthrallingly fragrant, charming and opulent: reminiscent of a stroll through an English garden. The palate is lustrous and complex, channelling the essence of Picardy Pinot Noir. Petals, cherries and all-spice lead the way, with Turkish delight and fresh pomegranate thrown in for good measure. Great Pinot Noir is about shape and texture, and here it is in spades, with pockets of complexity emerging through the multi-dimensional palate. High class oak and the signature sour note drives the length. A masterful touch and fantastic growing season coming together again, encapsulating jaw-dropping beauty into a 750 ml bottle.   

Picardy Shiraz 2022

Rich and concentrated, with black and blue fruits and a lick of aniseed for good measure. There is an uplifting presence in the 2022, with coating, chalky tannins that drive the palate, huddling tightly under the same umbrella as red fruits, raspberries and a fleck of aniseed and earth. In the context of Picardy, this is a powerful wine, bursting with potential, though somewhat taut, and tightly coiled at present. I’d highly recommend some time the cellar, or a good splash in the decanter to unveil the seductive cool climate spices and perfume.

Picardy Merlot Cabernet 2020

Gorgeous blue fruits, blackcurrant and lavender lead the bouquet, suggesting refinement, but it is the palate that takes this wine to the next level. The usual plump red fruits are there, but they play second fiddle to aristocratic earthy and savoury notes, with pencil shavings and streamlined tannins. The Picardy Merlot blend generally benefits immensely from time in bottle, allowing for the fruit to soften and integrate, however on this showing I can think of no reason to wait.

Picardy Tete du Cuvee 2021

Capturing the essence of the vintage, the 2021 Tete du Cuvee shows an ethereal lightness and deftness of touch. Bright red fruits, fresh picked cherries and a rose petal influence drive both the bouquet and palate. The exceptional length of this wine may be its standout feature, allowing the wines purity and depth to shine. Fine tannins run alongside for support, with just a lick of new oak showing itself at present. Delicate and Captivating, there is no overacting here: this is Louise Brooks, not Clara Bow. Capturing the elegance from a time passed, this is a graceful and approachable Tete, radiating with atavistic charm. 

Picardy Chardonnay 2023

The upswing in quality of Picardy Chardonnay continues unabated, with the 2023 vintage delivering a wine that is both refined and decadent. The palate is less citrus driven this year, with white peach and stone fruit both opulent in their proportions. A subtle cinnamon infused beeswax note cascades into an complex back palate, with barrel work adding finesse and texture. Held together by a fine acid line, the wine finishes long and sumptuous. This is particularly fine Picardy Chardonnay, one that is not to be missed! 

Sketch me a lost road then. Made of gravel, and flanked by giant Karri trees. Weaving seamlessly through a hundred year forest and then over a single lane bridge crossing a water course. Open it up to a landscape showing quaint paddocks on rolling hillsides. Through to a modest house overlooking a tiny, picturesque vineyard of lyre-trellised vines. Animate it now, to see the knowledgeable and dedicated grower tending to his grapes in the mornings and sculpting wines in the evenings. This is John Brocksopp, and Lillian wines.

The opportunity came up to taste nine different vintages of this wine, spanning back to 2009, up to the soon to be released 2023. It gave us a rare opportunity to look at this wine in context with other vintages and see how it evolves as it ages. John, the winemaker and vigneron who generously invited us to share in the experience was able to talk us through each wine and took great interest in having a critical look at his own creations.

For those unfamiliar, John has been making wine from his Lillian vineyard, situated South East of the Pemberton township for a few decades, reaching back to when he was still the viticulturist at Leeuwin Estate and one of the architects in the creation of their famous Art Series Chardonnay. One day I asked him what were the reasons he planted (generally heat loving) Southern Rhone white varieties on what is by West Australian standards a fairly cool location for a vineyard. The main reason he mentioned was that he could finish vintage at Leeuwin and then return to Pemberton in time to pick his own crop which ripened slightly later. Lillian also make a Viognier, a sweet wine (also made from Viognier) – and from the Lefroy Brook vineyard across the road a Chardonnay and Pinot Noir. All are made in very small quantities, in a hands-off manner, and are all predictably excellent.

Back to the wine then, which is always a blend of Marsanne and Rousanne, and despite being under the radar, to those in the know is regarded as one of Australia’s finest. My reference points for this style are predominantly Australian single varietal Marsanne, and they tend to show two things. Firstly a dominant honeyed / honeysuckle character that becomes exaggerated as it ages, and secondly a lack of structure or acidity to hold the wine together. ‘All icing and no cake’ is how you might describe them. The Lillian wines we tasted had little in common in this regard. Often the tannin would provide the backbone, or the Rousanne component would bring a lift to hold the wine together. As the wines aged, they held their structure, with the 2009 and 2010 holding together almost as well as the new releases. As for the honeysuckle flavour we had all anticipated, it was definitely there, particularly when the Marsanne was up in the blend but overall it tended to be very subtle. Indeed, more often it was the third or fourth thing you’d notice rather than any sort of dominant feature. It was interesting that John mentioned about halfway through the tasting that he was specifically trying to avoid this characteristic, and the crucial role of the Rousanne in achieving this. By avoiding this as the dominant flavour so many other aspects and complexities of the wines were on show, and the wines tended to be more savoury and textural with sweetness very much held in check.

One other interesting thing to come out of this tasting was to see us all really struggle to find the words to describe the flavours we were all tasting. Between the six of us we all came up with quite different ways of describing the wines, and I suspect another six unique people may have identified an entirely different set of flavours altogether. It was hard work for the brain / palate memory – akin to trying to find that familiar face you are searching for on a crowded railway platform. There was a lot going on, and though you could see plenty, moments of clarity were rare. So that in itself was rather interesting, and I think rather than contradicting each other, this focused dissection helped build and describe the layers of complexity in the wines. Sometimes ‘Riesling-like’, or ‘Chardonnay-like’ worked as a useful reference point or starting point and then added to from there. So in my notes, I’ve used the tasters initials where they have contributed a specific thought, and many of the other notes were thoughts and words flying around the room whilst I feverishly scribbled things down. Onto the wines then.

2023. A cooler vintage with the fruit picked between 10.5 and 11.5 baume. This was made with some fermentation on skins and pressed at 8 baume. Botrytis was a slight issue this vintage, and tasting the wine John had a slight concern about the amount of tannin. The wine itself presented ok, a bit of a blank slate perhaps, with space to build some character from here. The acidity pickled up with time in the glass, and entwined nicely with some tropical fruit / melon notes and a slight hint of honey. All in all, a slightly neutral wine with an almost nonchalance about it. I thought this was the weakest of the flight by some margin, so it will be interesting to see how it develops.

2022. “Terrific year” said John, pre-empting a big step in excitement in comparison to the 23. I found It had an attractive, slightly oily character, was a a bit sweeter than the 23 and had some firm acidity to it. There was a melange of characteristics others found in the wine: floral notes, almonds, stone fruit, white peach and some preserved fruit. It was also slightly grassy and slightly tangy. This vintage combined a really graceful, elegant palate with a lot of complexity to the flavours. Upon tasting this John remarked that this is the kind of wine he is trying to make. Delicious, and drinking fantastically already, and a wine that will no doubt improve further.

2021. A lower crop this year according to John, with this blend being 50% Rousanne rather than the usual 30%. This higher percentage of Rousanne gives the wine a real lift, with freshness and balance coming from the Marsanne. The bouquet was quite different to the 2022, with a lot less honeyed / sweetened notes. In its place was described by JP as ‘citrus – though more citrus flowers than fruit’. BP found this also, and added resin and antique furniture notes whilst DP noted the tart / sharpness on the back palate. There was certainly a lot going on, and you could even add some herbal and light aniseed characters as well. This was the first wine where I noted some Chardonnay similarities that brought to mind stirred lees.

2020. John mentioned some challenges with rain during vintage, and also that he fined the wine ‘aggressively’ due to the wine having a darker colour than usual. The percentage of Rousanne was down in this vintage. Despite the challenges he noted, I found spectacular complexity in the bouquet. There was plenty of honeysuckle on the palate (likely due the higher Marsanne percentage) and of all the wines here it was the most noticeable feature. It was also drier and slightly tart. My gut feel is that this wine is developing a bit slower than the younger vintages we had just tried, and will likely become something special in 5-10 years time.

2019. John noted that this was picked a bit later than usual due to a lack of room in the winery, with the wine sitting well about the usual alcohol, and coming in at 14.8%. At this point John mentioned that ideally the two varieties are fermented together, though this is something that works best where the baume of each are close together. As for the wine, it was the first to show noticeable colour development. The bouquet was fairly restrained but the palate was generous and full. It pushed into some creaminess, with some attractive flecks of ginger spice. Others mentioned that the wine had the effect of ginger more so than the flavour. A savoury and spicy wine. Collectively we found it quite hard to pin down what this wine was reminiscent of: it was the first to remind me of a slightly aged Riesling or Chenin, but balancing that were those creamy notes. A lot happening here.

2017. “A terrific year for early varieties” said John surprisingly (It was quite a challenging vintage at Picardy), and true to his own outlook this was one of the highlights of the flight. BP noticed strong linseed oil and old furniture notes here, to which John added resin, and DP mentioned dry spices. When I stuck my nose in the glass here I uttered an accidentally out loud ‘wow’, enamoured by the effusive aromas. There is an incredible bouquet here, and the soft texture of the wine and the way it expanded on the back palate completed a very compelling picture. A special wine.

2016. John noted here that again there was a larger percentage of Rousanne this year, and indeed like the 2021 it had a slight Chardonnay resemblance. He found strong ‘straw’ notes, which (among many other things) I missed, though predictably it seemed obvious once it was pointed out. JP mentioned citrus notes, and between us we threw in citrus fruit, flower and pith. Adding to that were that same core theme of melon, ginger and honey, all of which were balanced and restrained – adding complexity and balance rather than dominating.

2010. This and the 2009 were both magnificent wines: a spectacular encore that will live in my memory for some time. The sizeable gap in age between this and the 2016 translated in very different bouquets. To my nose it was a pure and rather sincere carbon copy of shaved white truffle, though no one else agreed on that, which was interesting in itself. There were earthy notes as well, and ‘a good funkiness to it’ (JP), a good licking of ginger, and brought to mind ‘flowers soaked in honey’ (DP). All in all, an absolute belter, and in a tightly run race this was my wine of the day.

2009. Again I found that heavy truffle aroma here, and indeed this is one of the best smelling white wines I’ve ever put to my nose. Once again, others weren’t too sure about the truffle, but between them noted a mouldy / blue cheese / wet wood vibe – all in the best possible sense. John noted a slight greenness to it, and made a link towards an elegant Sauvignon Blanc. This wine was particularly unctuous, and incredible for its age, with DP suggesting a resemblance to an aged Riesling drinking at its peak. BP remarked that the tannin (rather than the acid) was holding this together – which was a very astute observation and in hindsight relevant to some of the other wines as well. I took this one home with me after the tasting, with no more than a third of a bottle left and looked at it over the following two nights. It was absolutely singing till the last drop disappeared: ‘old but not tired’ personified.

Last thoughts.

Whether or not we nailed the flavour descriptors is up for debate, but one thing that isn’t it the superb quality of these wines: some of the most fascinating and intriguing whites that I’ve tasted. In a quiet room with everyone’s concentration absolute, there was still the occasional gasp, and accidental ‘wow’ that escaped peoples lips as they moved through the glasses in front of them. The bouquet itself gradually got more and more interesting as we worked our way through the flight, especially from about 5-7 years onwards, and I would suggest this as a starting point for drinking, though of course you won’t be disappointed in having an earlier peek. Given the small production, the chances that many of the 2009 or 2010’s are still existence is pretty slim, which is a real shame based on what we saw. I would love to have a case or two to show people what we were lucky enough to taste. But I can count myself very lucky to have had the opportunity to taste a wine like this in the context of many different vintages, surrounded by great palates and talked through them by the winemaker himself. A great educational experience, and as you might have guessed, I’ve thrown a good number of the new vintages in the cellar in anticipation of some nice rewards in years to come.

Wignalls Pinot Noir, 2017. Albany

For non West Australians, Albany is generally amongst the wettest and coolest parts of the State. The Southern Ocean dominates the climate – the wind blows, it drizzles a lot, and the weather can be similar in summer to winter (compared to the extremes elsewhere). Viticulture can be tough along the coastal stretch, and though scenically quite spectacular Albany (and Denmark and Walpole) can be quite an unforgiving place to grow grapes. Further from the coast, along a similar latitude, the Porongurups, Mt Barker and Frankland tend to have more success. 

Wignalls were an early mover for WA Pinot, and established a strong reputation in those early years. I’d like to know more about the wines from their first decade or so: how they were made, the clonal mix, how long they lasted. Over the years the price has remained very reasonable (still around the $35 mark). It is worth checking out their website as it has this fascinating aggressive / defensive tone to it. It proudly cites a 2004 rating as one of Australia’s top cellar doors, an interesting blast from the past! On top of that, it references Wignalls trophy hauls over the years, declaring ‘such an experience and recognition does not occur by accident’ – as if someone were suggesting it were.

Onto the wine then, the 2017 Pinot Noir. Deep bouquet here, very sour cherry dominant. Doesn’t quite translate to the palate, which is quite thin, astringent, unexciting. Flavour wise, its that oft seen marriage between the sour cherry and medicinal notes – plus some blackberry / only-just-ripened raspberry notes. It’s got a nice, creamy / silky texture to it, and good acidity, indeed the wine would work well with the right dish, something rich and salty. From what was a pretty tough year for Southern WA, this is a drink now prospect, and if I had to score this it would be around that 87 – 88 mark. 

Below and Above Pinot Noir. 2019. Pemberton.

Below and Above is the label for the fruit that comes from the (from the outside looking in) very well run Thella Estate, picking off what they consider to be the choicest Pinot fruit from this sizeable vineyard. The mix of clones is quite interesting – 114, 115 & 777 are widespread, well known, high quality Pinot clones. G8V3 is one of the Martini clones (from California), whilst the close-planted portion comes from 667, a high regarded Dijon clone that apparently gives concentration and finesse in the tannins. Apparently this wine was pretty tight and tough as a youngster – its hard to reconcile that with my first experience of the wine.

Aromatically, this opens up with rather joyous, exotic notes that hint at the lightness and prettiness to come. The first sip follows on in this manner, in an uplifting style that shakes off a touch of the twiggy / brambly notes to evolve into bright, floral, slightly musky flavours. To that, you could add primary notes along the lines of fairly floss, newly ripened strawberries and rose petals. There is a deft touch on the oak, quite appropriate for the style, and soft, powdery tannins. On day two the mid palate had a juicy, fleshy core to it and filled out nicely. The art world equivalent of this wine might be a beautifully detailed, pink dominant watercolour painting where ‘less is more’. Could only be Pinot Noir: this is an excellent wine, with more to come from this address, no doubt. 12% alc.

Chateau June Jerome Pinot Noir. 2019. Manjimup

From a vineyard just West of the Manjimup township. Interesting little project, fairly new & seems to have quite a few boxes ticked already. I’m looking forward to learning more about it, and tasting a bit more from this producer.

The screw cap came off with a bit of a pop, releasing some co2, and revealing a wine with a vibrant medium red purple hue. Palate and bouquet are very much aligned in flavours. Initially there is an assault of flavours in tune with fully ripened wines made in this region, with strong brambly, foresty and slightly stemmy/twiggy notes bouncing off each other. You could add earthy, fleshy beetroot flavours to that, which fill out the mid palate. Lingering underneath, and becoming more prevalent with air are the first signs of some attractive savoury toffee /caramel elements that will build with time. A bit of CO2 prickle remained in the wine throughout, which hopefully will dissipate in time or with air. Whilst this on the extreme end of what a Southern Forests Pinot can taste like, this wine seems comfortable doing its thing, and will likely hit a sweet spot in 3-5 years.

I took the opportunity recently to taste the last three vintages of Out on a Limb Pinot Noir side by side. I’ve written before about Out on a Limb (here). This is a small, Pinot focussed vineyard in WA’s Great Southern. The vineyard has Kalgan river frontage, quartz underneath the soil and is tended to by hand by surfer and vigneron Ben Carmody.

A quick summary… None of these are block-buster styled wines – that’s neither the aim, nor the execution. My notes should be interpret in context relative to that base. The alcohols are low, the oak is restrained, the vineyard talks through the fruit, and it does so with eloquence. Classy tannins hold them together. Like all great wines, time in the glass (and a rest overnight) was helpful teasing out the nuances. Indeed, I would suggest that none of these wines were drinking at their peak, and they are likely to improve over the medium term without losing any of their seductive youthful qualities. Both the 777 clone (described by others as sarsaparilla / cola / slightly medicinal – to which I’d add baked raspberries and a slightly ‘feral’ component ) and 115 clone (which brings classic Pinot flavours, cherry & structure to the wine) work together with synergy. There is the unmistakable stamp of Great Southern Pinot in the wines, but also a resemblance to the bright and flavoursome wines of Mornington, perhaps due to the maritime element.

2020. Very, very pleasant nose. Pure Pinot, elegantly perfumed and enticing. Bright cherries, Rose Petals. Tannins and mouthfeel are slightly chalky. Gorgeous summer fruits dominate the palate. A hint of marmalade is woven in, with a nice savoury twist at the finish. Of the three wines, this changed the least with air, though offered some sour cherries and caramel after about an hour. All the elements here are well integrated, making for an outstanding wine in every sense. At this stage in its evolution this is positively dreamy, and on this occasion my favourite of the three.

2021. Similar colour to the 20, with a deeper, more fragrant bouquet. The flavours though, are different here, tending more towards grilled meats, and savoury elements. This is serious and brooding, with the tannins running the length of the palate. But with some air, a core of bright raspberries, red fruits and Turkish delight reveal themselves, all of which were more prominent on the second day. The tannins are slightly dustier than the 20, but the commonality is the gorgeous soft finish. I came back to it many times, and it was constantly evolving, improving over 24 hours. Although my least preferred of the three due to a few certain flavours sticking out a fraction, I could see some people falling for this in a big way. The 2021 is full of intriguing layers, and as it integrates and settles may become something special with time.

2022. Labelled Reserve. The most youthful, vibrant hue. Opened up to quite a reticent nose, and needed a bit more air to coax out the flavours. When they came, there were sour cherries, strawberries and slightly confectionary red fruits. In comparison with the other two, this tasted a bit riper, sweeter perhaps, and with a bit more body to the wine. It maintains a delicate texture despite the concentration of fruit. The length is a defining feature here, the other being a touch of new oak that adds some class, and a sense of familiarity. At the moment this is youthful, and flirting – but there is nothing cryptic here. Rather, what is on display is the brazen confidence of an attractive youngster, one that is full of confidence and up-front charm. Great stuff, this is a wine that fully shows off the region, and this vineyard at its best.

For more : http://www.outonalimb.com.au

The Deitos vineyard, just South of Manjimup grows some of the most highly regarded fruit in the region. Most notably perhaps, it has found fame as the source for the award winning Lonely Shore Pinot Noir. The second time I was introduced to owner and vigneron Fabio Deitos (in 2023) he mentioned that he had made a few wines himself from the vineyard, and wasn’t far off releasing a Pinot Noir from the very good 2005 vintage. Now, if ever a wine were to spike ones curiosity, a current release, 18 year old Southern Forests Pinot would do it!

Deitos Pinot Noir 2005.

The wine comes to life after about 20-30 minutes air, so make sure you give it a good splash. The bouquet is particularly enchanting out of the decanter: shaved cocoa, leather and a hint of cinnamon. On the palate, glimpses remain of red fruits that intertwine with mature flavours of earth, mushroom, charcuterie and caramel/toffee. There is a beautiful texture and mouth-feel throughout. Evidently, a core of strong ripe fruit and well-pitched acidity has carried this wine through its senescence. If you were to imagine the life cycle of this Pinot Noir as a single day, to drink it now you are enjoying it at sunset. The light is slowly fading, but with that comes the highlighting of a wondrous mosaic of fractured lights and colours, of captivating mature aromas and flavours. 14.4% alc.

* It is worth noting that both bottles I tried a conglomerate cork (of some description) has done the job perfectly and came out with ease. As far as I know this wine is still available from the newly opened cellar door on Towie road. The Shiraz, in particular, is also excellent.

On Sunday the Eighth of October Picardy officially launched their new building, a multi purpose building featuring a stunning wine room. The Burgundian stone work, and quaint timeless charm contained within made for a perfect venue for an occasion like this. A who’s who of people and what’s what of wines & food followed, celebrating all things Picardy, Chez Pierre & Pannell family.

Kicking things off, we looked at the 2023 wines still in barrel. Since I’ve been working here, it has been fascinating watching these wines evolve, improve and build flavour. Amidst some well aimed inquisitions & hyperbolic praise that bounced off the wall it was clear the Chardonnay and Pinot Noir from this vintage will be very fine indeed. On it was then, to Champagne and canapés, a seat, and the first flight of wines.

The first white of note was the 2016 Boise, a slightly wooded blend of Sauvignon Blanc and Semillon. It was met with high praise for its drinkability: the acid had softened, the fruit very attractive and in the pear and citrus spectrum, rather than anything tropical. The 2022 Chardonnay is an absolute banger, I’m drinking this as often as I can & it overshadowed a nice, but slightly tired 2013. The new vintage is definitely worth loading up on, as Chardonnay at Picardy have reached an exciting level as it continues along its evolutionary path with miniscule tinkering each vintage.

Next was a full flight of Picardy Noir. A 2009 and 2020 Tete du Cuvee, plus a 2014, 2021 & 2022 Estate Pinot Noir. The 2009 Tete was a little reticent, and possibly in a dumb phase. I would have liked more time to contemplate it: another time perhaps. The 2020 looked positively lively in its company, happy to do all the talking whilst the 09 listened thoughtfully. Ray Jordans recent comments on the 2020 being a new benchmark for WA Pinot seemed all the more on point with the glass in front of you. The 2022 Estate is powerful, layered and seductive with incredible pinosity & should drink very well on release, due next year. The 2021 Estate has found its feet in the last six months, a cool vintage that has produced some wines from the region that seem like they are still coming together after a period of being tight and unexpressive. The class here is now more apparent, a bit more scaled back than usual perhaps, but graceful and with a nice core of red fruit. The highlight of this flight, however, was easily the 2014 Estate Pinot, which was gorgeously aromatic and textured, and about to enter a very long drinking window. There are some museum stocks of this due for release in the next twelve months or so and I can’t wait for people to see it.

A Picardy Shiraz and Merlot blend flight followed. The young wines were undoubtably very good, but were overshadowed by two absolute belters in their prime in the 2009 Shiraz, and a 2001 Merlimont. The combination of two very good vintages and both wines being in a real sweet spot in terms of drinking windows were perhaps the secret here. This is the second extremely good bottle of 01 that I have had the pleasure of tasting recently: there are no ‘old’ characteristics to be found here, just pure Right bank bliss, drinking in its prime. The 09 Shiraz was similar, that first onset of tertiary flavours meeting what must have been some fairly profound fruit in an absolute sweet spot. This is what it is all about.

I may have the order slightly off, but I think it was this point of the night that John Jens spoke extremely well about Bill, Sandra and Dan, and of Moss Wood and Picardy in particular. He got right to the heart of what makes this place and these people (and their wines!) so special. I’m rephrasing here (apologies), but he pointed out that whilst the vast majority of us move forward with our lives, often choosing the path of least resistance Bill has taken an opposite approach. He has his ideal of perfection, whatever that may be (the stunning building a good example) and works backwards from there, often forging his own path through immense obstacles, in a quest to get as humanly close as possible to that ideal. It is an ability and a foresight so few of us have. These words, I’m sure, echoed in our heads as we tasted the upcoming flights and saw the fruits of that labour in wines that clearly sit comfortably next to what many would consider to the pinnacle of the wine world: Grand Cru Burgundy.

And so it was, that we next looked at three White Burgundys. A 2008 Rapet Corton Charlemagne, a 2010 Leflaive Chevalier Montrachet and a 2018 Baron Thenard Montrachet. The Rapet had the honour of being the finest white wine to ever pass my lips, an honour bestowed on it for all of about five minutes until the Chevalier arrived in my glass. The Montrachet was, though younger, the equal of the first two: Lady Luck (in the cork and storage universe) was clearly smiling down on us that night. I’ll save myself the embarrassment of trying to describe these wines from my rather minimal notes. The salient point here is that these were emotional wines. Wines of texture and length and waves of complex beauty. When you see a life changing piece of artwork, hear a song, or read a passage of literature you can recreate that experience relatively easily. But with great wines, they pass your lips, you savour every nuance you can, and then all of a sudden they become just a memory. And then, it is, that the fleeting moment you just experienced somehow inspires you even more. I thank very much the three people who generously brought and shared these bottles.

The first of the Grand Cru reds, a 2018 Jean Tardy Echezeaux was impressively built, but not overly seductive. Seldom is the loudest voice in the room the prettiest, but we all evolve as we mature: a decade or more likely two may work wonders here. For me though, the jury is out on (the very warm) 2018 Bordeaux and Burgundy vintage, and I often feel I am tasting a different wine to the one I am reading about. A 2012 Clos de Lambrays appeared next, the newest of the Morey st Denis Grand crus. This was on another level enterely, and the finest red wine of the night. Perfumed, soft and textured it glided through the palate and thrilled in a way only great Burgundy can. It overshadowed one of the worlds real bucket list wines in a Mugnier Musigny from the 2007 vintage. The wine got the attention it deserved, and if one was to look deeply there was a restrained beauty to it but the fruit seemed slightly muted, with some brett complicating things further. As if waiting patiently for nearly two decades to make its debut on the big stage, a 2005 Picardy Estate Pinot Noir followed with brazen confidence and a made a real ‘I belong here’ statement. This wine had much in common with the Lambrays in terms of flavour profile and textures, with beautiful soft red fruit and a real depth of flavour. Deeply convincing, just entering the drinking zone (rather than leaving it) I thought it was a revelation, and easily the second best red wine of the night. A few more red Burgundys followed, all sound – but there was a sense that when the last of the Picardy 05 disappeared it took at least part of the evening with it.*

A 1975 Moss Wood Cabernet came out, served blind (though I had snuck a peak previously). One of the first great wines to be made in Western Australia, by Bill and family. The wine was very much alive, and full of interest as it approached half a century: a piece of history, and a privilege to be in its company. Crepes suzette and Sauternes rounded off the evening and amidst some laughs and small talk, we slowly snuck out into the still cold night to be safely chauffeured home.

To be honest it took quite a few days of contemplation to feel like I had a read on the evening. Memories of the white Burgundys in particular will stay with me for a long time. The stunning peaks that a good handful of the aged Picardy wines reached, likewise. A debrief the next morning with a fellow named Greg helped. We were out in the vineyard, tending to some vines when he dropped in and shared his insights, many of which resonated with me. And if you were to try to attach some meaning to it all, the location of this conversation seemed to be the best way to go about it. For there we were, shaking off the dust and going back to doing just one of those thousand tiny little mundane tasks that need to be done to create great wine. With each pass in the vines, with each set of eyes and action in the vineyard, the chances increase ever so slightly that something of real quality can be achieved. If this goes hand in hand with a season that is kind, winemaking that is sound, and the bottle aged carefully for a long period of time, something may just take your breath away a decade or two down the track. It won’t be every year, and it certainly won’t be every bottle. But for all the reasons I’ve mentioned, on a little family vineyard, on a gravel ridge halfway between Pemberton and Manjimup magic happens in a way that you cannot put down to chance. For the lightning jolts that strike here do so with frequency and precision, blessing us with something truly special indeed.

* apologies to F Scott Fitzgerald whom I have slightly rephrased here.
** A very sincere thank you to those who put together this evening.

As we slowly meander through life, one is drawn (often without reasoning) to things of certain intrigue. Often these things become a specific passion, occasionally an obsession. For me personally, one of those passions has been wine, and although quixotic, I have been drawn quite specifically to West Australian Pinot Noir.

On cursory glance, this notoriously fussy and delicate cultivar is not overtly suited here. However when one digs a little deeper it becomes clear that in very certain pockets, in very specific places, if tended by the right grower, wines can be made that will quite genuinely knock your socks off. These wines tend to be made in tiny quantities, snapped up eagerly and quickly by the cognoscenti and lost to history.

Over many years, but particularly in the last twelve months, I’ve been lucky enough to taste spectacular wines spanning twenty-five years of age, through to young wines made from ever maturing vines that showcase the vision of those who decided to plant there and be patient. I’ve tasted and talked about wines from young producers with passion and knowledge, and with many great wines ahead of them. I’ve also tasted spellbinding wines from older producers whose intimate knowledge of their vineyard, learned over many years have translated recently into some quite ethereal bottlings indeed. I’m looking forward to telling these stories, slowly and through an inquisitive lens, in the hope of understanding why these wines are the way they are.

Part One – Out on a Limb Wines.

Long before the Kalgan River gets notice that it is slowly snaking towards the Southern Ocean it passes an isolated property, perched on the edge of a mildly rolling hill ascending towards the river. The property is called Out on a Limb and from this patch of land they are, all of sudden it seems, making some of WA’s most convincing Pinot Noir.

On this property lies a tiny, East facing vineyard, planted predominantly to Burgundian Clones of Pinot Noir (777 & 115). Conventional wisdom is that the ideally sited vineyards in the area face predominantly North, in order to capture the most of the sun. But here the vines face East, thus benefitting from a milder sun during the day, and prolonged ripening conditions into the night thanks to the quartz in the soil, which captures that warmth and distributes is gently and persistently. In addition, this site though protected from the wind, also benefits from its proximity to the cool Southern Ocean. Thus all in all, we have some of WA’s slowest, most gentle ripening conditions. And subsequently sampling the fruit at vintage in 2022, it was genuinely exciting to taste these incredible, naunced flavours developing at low baume levels.

The vineyard itself is the antithesis of large-scale farming: there are no tractors (they wouldn’t fit down the closely planted rows anyway) and every task is painstakingly done by hand. I’ve walked through many vineyards in my time and never seen one with such personality. Each post is unique, each vine has its own character. Rows of bush vines bask in the sun, patiently awaiting trellising, and the opportunity to contribute their own personality to the Grand Vin. It almost has the feel of a scrapbook come to life. A collage of photos and memories pieced together to share a complete story.

The People

I first met the vigneron Ben Carmody at vintage at a different winery: we both had a week free to help out. Imposing at well over six foot tall, he had just arrived and strolled in while we were having lunch one day after a long mornings picking, with a box of wine under one arm.  Almost as an afterthought he placed a bottle of his 2018 that he’d brought in on the table, “help yourselves”. As it was, I was already quite taken with the wine when he asked – almost hopingly – ‘what do you think, is this any good?’. Often in these moments you dig deep for the most, correct, most polite phrasing you can muster: “its an interesting wine” is often my go-to for something barely palatable. But no such pleasantries were required here: the wine was great. The potential was obvious.

Subsequently, I’ve visited Out on a Limb a few times since that bottle, including participating in a day of vintage this year. Whilst Ben manages the vineyard, his erudite partner Dee (who has a great taste in TV!) steers the ship from the office. Both however, play second fiddle to two Maremmas who (along with a few cats) feauture on the label. Working in places as diverse as Freycinet (East Coast of Tasmania) and Dukes, in the nearby Porongurups have no doubt shaped Bens view on wines, which tend very strongly towards lighter styles where finesse and picture perfect fruit are highly valued. Wines where there the fruit has nowhere to hide, not behind massive alcohol or oak or ripeness. His palate is quite sharp in picking up the little nuances that differentiate between a really special, elegant expression of pure fruit as opposed to simpler, lighter (generally sweeter) styles. The line is fine: this is Pinot Noir after all! Whatever his passion for wine is though, it is well and truly usurped by his love of the ocean and riding the surf.

The Ocean

The commonality between making great Pinot Noir and those exhilarating moments you can have surfing surely makes sense when you think about it. Both require an incredible level of skill: without which there can be no success. But this is alone not enough, and only the most precise locations and specific weather conditions can produce those opportunities. When the skill of the operator, and these precise conditions combine, these sensual moments of pure bliss, quite unlike any other can arise. And the chase for these moments, however fleeting has hijacked many a life and sent it on a path of chasing the perfect wave, or the satisfaction of the aromas and pure perfection of the finest of Burgundys. Moments that can sustain you for a long period of time, through many days hard work in the vineyard, or frustrating runs of corked bottles or wines that for some reason or another just don’t have that ‘life’ to them. Or on the other hand, long drives chasing conditions, hours of hard work paddling out and still not quite getting that special moment that will sustain you till the next great wave.

The Wines

Out on a Limb Pinot Noir 2021

Wafts out of the glass rather nicely indeed, with brightly pitched red fruits. Pomegranate, cherries and rose petals all compete for your attention, evoking a curious bee exploring the garden on the finest of spring days. These flavours combine with some darker fruits, giving the palate quite a wide spectrum, deeply convincing and greater than the sum of its parts.

But this is still a young wine, as evident by the sturdy, slightly powdery tannic backbone that guides a particularly savoury finish. Over a longer interval, the wine tended even more savoury whilst retaining a supple elegance. The key here, perhaps, is the 12.5 alc, enabling a wine of genuine complexity whilst avoiding those riper, sweeter, more simple flavours.

An exciting wine that hints at what I’m sure the 2022 will confirm: this is a plot of vines with real potential.