Mention Australian chardonnays to a group of American wine fanatics and one result might be a resounding silence punctuated by feigned snoring. I know what they’re thinking and I understand completely. But it’s time to take another look at Australian chardonnays, and at Aussie wines in general.
In the 1990s, when Americans first became deeply interested in Australian wines, a serious Aussie chardonnay typically reflected the styles then dominant in the United States. A kind assessment of those wines might describe them as bold and voluptuous. From a less diplomatic perspective they were big, fat, brassy and oaky.
California chardonnays have come a long way since then. Yes, you can still find bottles that taste like buttered popcorn if you want them, but you can also find lean, nuanced, minerally wines that dazzle, and you can choose from much in between. Something for every taste.
And what about the chardonnays from Australia? It’s not easy to answer that question, at least not in the United States. Wine stores all over the country may still be selling tankers-full of cheap Australian junk wines labeled chardonnay, but wines from more serious producers, who are growing chardonnay in cooler climates more conducive to subtly expressive wines, are difficult to come by. At four of the best wine shops in Manhattan, I recently was able to find a grand total of one bottle of Australian chardonnay that might be considered above the level of Yellow Tail and other commodity wines.
With so little available to challenge the stereotype of Australian chardonnays, it lingers in the minds of many Americans. Yet the stereotype is well out of date. I haven’t been to Australia, but I know from professional tastings, from books and periodicals and from speaking with people in the Australian wine trade that Aussie chardonnay has undergone a stylistic evolution similar to California’s.
We know something similar has occurred with Australian red wines. We also know that but for a trickle that makes it to our shores, much of the more subtle, graceful Aussie reds stays in Australia.
With this in mind, I asked our tasting coordinator, Bernard Kirsch, to scour his retail sources around the country for Australian chardonnays from cooler climates. It wasn’t easy, but somehow he managed to assemble a tasting for the wine panel of 20 bottles of chardonnay primarily from cooler climate regions like Yarra Valley and Mornington Peninsula near Melbourne, Margaret River in Western Australia and Tasmania.
For the tasting, Florence Fabricant and I were joined by Jeff Taylor, the wine director at Betony, and Rick Pitcher, general manager and wine director at the Gander.
Taken as a group we found wines that were pleasantly restrained and nuanced, unburdened by oaky flavors and other flamboyant touches. They were light-bodied rather than heavy, with modest alcohol levels generally ranging from 12.5 to 13 percent, with an occasional spike to 13.5. Yet the best wines were able to achieve rich, enticing textures and the sort of lively energy that comes from good acidity.
It’s fair to say that none of us were particularly surprised by the wines, having had varying degrees of experience with bottles like these. But they may well cause raised eyebrows among those clinging to the idea of bombastic Australian wines.
Yet even though we all were pleased by the evolving profile of these Aussie chardonnays, we were left with the nagging question of what in particular distinguished them from fine chardonnays that come from all over the world. We certainly tasted some delicious wines that would be a pleasure to drink, but none stood out as particularly distinctive.
A lack of distinctiveness is a disadvantage, particularly when wines from emerging regions compete with established names. Our top wine, the 2011 chardonnay from Moorooduc Estate in Mornington Peninsula, had an enticing texture and attractive flavors of spices, earth and herbs that lingered long in the mouth. But it’s a $35 bottle, competing against white Burgundies and American chardonnays that already have dedicated followings. Curious wine drinkers may seek it out and find it pleasing, but would they return?
I don’t know the answer, but perhaps this is a reason so little of the wine comes to the United States. In addition, it may be that the most distinctive Australian chardonnays are so coveted in Australia that producers see little reason to export them. For example, we could not find wines from some of the most highly regarded producers, like Giaconda and Mac Forbes, so it’s possible that we missed out on the most distinctive examples.
Nonetheless, we did find some very good wines. The 2012 Yarra Valley chardonnay from Luke Lambert, our No. 2 bottle, was full of energy and well textured. I would be happy to drink it if it were placed in front of me, as I would our No. 3 chardonnay, the 2012 Heytesbury from Vasse Felix in Margaret River. It was quite different from either the Lambert or the Moorooduc, more loosely knit with stony mineral flavors.
No. 4 was the Oakridge 864 Single Block from the Yarra Valley, succulent and tightly coiled, surprisingly rich for so pale a wine. It was also our best value at $25. Other bottles worth noting include the tart yet stony 2011 Dalrymple Pipers River from Tasmania, the well-balanced 2011 Dexter from the Mornington Peninsula and the earthy, herbal 2011 Punt Road from the Napoleone Vineyard in Yarra Valley.
It’s legitimate to ask why the wine panel would focus on a genre that will not be available to most people. I have two answers. First, it’s crucial not to be trapped in stereotypes. Australian producers deserve to be recognized and understood for what they are doing now, not dismissed because of out-of-date information.
Second, it’s important to identify potential where it exists and, possibly, to plant the seed for a meaningful experience in the future. None of us may be able to visit our favorite wine shops tomorrow to pick up a good bottle of Yarra Valley chardonnay. But that doesn’t mean we won’t see a bottle in a restaurant next month, or come upon a bottle in a store next year. It’s better to thirst for the experience than to have no idea what you are missing.