The grape outdoors
It’s famous for surf, sea and sand but as Cuisine’s John Saker discovers, Queensland’s wine industry may be its best kept secret.
I WASN’T expecting a wine like this . . . not from the surf-washed, Hawaiian shirt-splattered, pineapple-infested state of Queensland. From a list of labels I’d never heard of, I opted for the Boireann Mourvedre Tannat 2008. My God, it sang. Those aromatics, that dense yet joyous fruit, the structural integrity . . . this was not some florid, hot and bothered Aussie red. It was the kind of interesting cool climate wine anyone, anywhere, would proudly serve a dinner guest. I stared at the glass and murmured ‘‘Queensland, why have you been hiding this away?’’
During the days following that first memorable meal at the Vineyard Cafe in the heart of the Granite Belt wine region, explanations emerged. One was this: Queensland has been hiding this vinous treasure from itself.
‘‘Queensland is our problem,’’ said Paola Cabezas Rhymer, winemaker at the accomplished Summit Estate winery near Stanthorpe, the Granite Belt’s largest town. She gestured toward the nearby highway. ‘‘The New South Wales border is just across that road. If that line was a few kilometres further north, people would treat us differently. No-one believes Queensland can produce wine of quality.’’
Not even Queenslanders, who should know better, it would appear. Winery after winery told me they found it almost impossible to crack the wine lists of smart restaurants in Brisbane, Noosa and the like. Sommeliers would taste the wines and make positive noises, but ultimately give the nod to ‘‘names’’ from the Barossa, the Margaret River and other glamour points on the Australian wine map. The market parochialism that is a feature all over the world of wine (in New Zealand, we’re famous for backing the home team strongly) is all but absent in Australia’s sunshine state.
This appreciation deficit has meant many Granite Belt producers rely heavily on hand selling through cellar doors and mailing lists. Many hold winery dinners, festivals and other events to bring in visitors. A number of them have also banded together to form the Strange Bird Wine Trail.
The ‘‘strange birds’’ are in fact lesser-known, sometimes downright obscure grape varieties. In order to discover what works best, there’s been a lot of varietal experimentation in the Granite Belt. In that context, the Mourvedre Tannat blend that served as my initiation was not such a left-field offering. Marsanne, Barbera, Durif, Nebbiolo, Nero d’Avola, Jacquez and Saperavi are all to be found in what is a rich and fascinating regional mosaic of varieties.
The Granite Belt sits on Queensland’s southern edge, three hours’ drive from Brisbane. The road leads through the Cunningham Gap, a chink in the low wall that is the Great Dividing Range. On the way through it’s worth stopping at the Gap summit for a quick shin up to the lookout on Mt Cordeaux. The climb isn’t arduous and the flora is enormously varied. Not only that, it’s almost eucalypt-free, an indication you’ve entered another Queensland.
It’s a case of once you’re up, you’re up; the descent on the other side of the Cunningham Gap is over soon after it starts. The altitude in parts of the Granite Belt exceeds 900 metres and is a big contributor to the success of the wines.
With the elevation comes the coolest temperatures Queensland can manage – snow is not uncommon in winter. As any New Zealand vigneron will tell you, temperate thermometer readings ensure grapes retain flavour nuance and acidity. At the same time, with the equator passing some 300 kilometres to the north of Brisbane, in the Granite Belt the sun is big and up close, so ripeness is generally not an issue.
The impoverished, decomposed granite on which most of the vines grow is another crucial ingredient extolled by the region’s winemakers. The distinctive