Around the World in 80 Dinners - Bill Jamison [28]
Following directions she provides, we drive up to the winery’s cellar door, perched on a hilltop offering panoramic views over the Vale. Hugh and Mary’s mother, Pam, are both in the tasting room, chatting and laughing with guests. Several open bottles sit on the bar: Loose Cannon Viognier, Scallywag Un-wooded Chardonnay, Mongrel Sangiovese Blend, Jekyll & Hyde Shiraz-Viognier, Ratbag Merlot. When Hugh comes over to pour us our first choice among the wines, Bill says, “Looks like you keep some pretty shady company.”
“I do indeed. The wines are named after different good friends.”
“Ratbag?”
“In Aussie slang, that’s an affable rascal. May need to change that label. It scares off American buyers for some reason.”
Pam offers us some olives from the estate, which she has laced with rosemary, garlic, and a hint of chile, and also pieces of bread with the Hamiltons’ olive oil and dukkah, a Mideastern mixture of nuts, seeds, and spices that’s popular locally because of a profusion of almond trees. The snacks go pertly with the wines, particularly the unoaked Chardonnay (“Just ran out of barrels one day and discovered the pure grape flavor for the first time”) and the Merlot, which boasts vigorous structure, backbone, and tannin.
As we drink and nibble, Hugh tells us about the winery. “I’m the fifth generation of a family that planted vineyards here in 1837, less than a year after the first European settlers came to South Australia. When I grew up in the 1950s, my parents distilled much of their grape juice because so few people in Australia cared at all for dry wine. I’ve seen the whole progression in interest since then, a seismic shift in my lifetime.”
Nearby at Coriole, the Lloyd family got into the wine business more recently, in 1967, but their estate dates back to 1860 and some of their Shiraz vines first budded in 1919. The cellar door, in an old stone barn building, sits astride a hill along with a cottage garden, a plot of Flanders poppies, and an amphitheater for Shakespeare in the Vines performances. The lady at the bar offers us glasses of Chenin Blanc, Sangiovese, and Shiraz wines, all well crafted, along with samples of olives and cheeses for sale in the tasting room. The Lloyds raise the olives on their property and also own Woodside Cheese Wrights, a respected maker of artisanal goat cheeses. In lieu of a lunch stop, we buy stocks of both products for a picnic.
If Bill had been feeling well, we would have eaten instead at d’Arrys Verandah Restaurant, located in the old family homestead at McLaren Vale’s best-known winery, d’Arenberg. Perusing the posted menu near the entrance, Cheryl speculates about the choices. “Maybe I would get the warm cuttlefish salad with sugar snap peas, pine nuts, pea tendrils, and chard, or possibly the red-elk pie with glazed pot-roasted onions.” Waiters whiz by us with some of the dishes, a sight sufficient to drive a sick man to drink.
The staff is pouring sips of most of the wines except the Extremely Rare Daddy Long Legs Tawny Port, priced in the same league as BMWs. The most impressive of the selections, predictably, are d’Arenberg’s three iconic reds, the Dead Arm Shiraz, the Coppermine Road Cabernet Sauvignon, and the Ironstone Pressings Grenache, Shiraz, Mourvèdre. The 2003 vintage of each is tannic and tight but showing brawny potential. On our way out, Cheryl spots a display of chocolates, d’Arry’s truffles filled with fortified Shiraz, and decides promptly on a purchase. “I’m going to need a couple of these for a roadie dessert.”
By the time of our afternoon return to Adelaide, the expressway has gone