Making World-Class Australian Chardonnay in Less Than Ten Years

When chardonnay burst onto the tables of the drinking trendset a little over a decade ago, hardly anyone knew what it actually tasted like. Since then, wine makers, wine writers, restaurateurs and wine drinkers alike have been shown wine after wine, each claiming to reveal once and for all what chardonnay is supposed to be about.

There’s no doubt that Rosemount’s Roxburgh Estate is one of those wines opened most frequently for this purpose. Since its inaugural 1983 vintage, it has continued to stretch Australian perceptions of what chardonnay can achieve here. Its evolution through the eyes of its maker, Phillip Shaw, takes us close to the reasons why in just ten short years, the best Australian chardonnay is internationally acclaimed as some of the best in the world.

Roxburgh’s reputation hardly needs gilding. Last October a dozen of every vintage of Roxburgh Chardonnay fetched $1100 at a Hunter Valley auction, an Australian record for a white wine. And since the overtly ripe and fruity 1983 vintage wowed the wine show judges, few could deny that the Roxburgh is becoming a white equavalent to Grange Hermitage; sought after, emulated and extolled.

Roxburgh is the progeny of a happy partnership between the unquestioned wine making talents of Phillip Shaw and the vision and financial clout of the Oatley family, whose other interests include horses and coffee.

For the wine that carries its name, Shaw takes the best from 60-70 tonnes of chardonnay grown on two ten-acre blocks at the 300 acre Roxburgh vineyard at Denman in the Upper Hunter Valley. The vineyard was planted on genuine terra rossa soils in 1966 and 1967, so Shaw has mature vines over twenty years of age at his disposal to make just 2,000 to 3,000 cases of Roxburgh each year.

Shunning the modern trend of machine harvesting, Shaw hand-picks the grapes only when truly ripe, for alcoholic strength and a Burgundy-like richness of mouthfeel is part of the Roxburgh trademark. He’s prepared to pick more than once to make certain only the ripest grapes end up in the press.

In 1983, when the first Roxburgh was made, winemakers were intent on protecting white wine flavour with refrigeration, the same way you keep a fruit juice fresh by chilling it. Just as unfamiliar with the use of oak for white wines as any other Australian winemaker, Shaw gave the first Roxburgh an impressive woody superstructure which took the Australian wine shows by storm. Despite this, the 1983 Roxburgh remains a fairly simple wine, although its youthful richness and impact were undeniable. It owes its longevity to the generous dollop of citrusy acid that Shaw added for that very purpose.

1984 was a more difficult, wetter year, yet its Roxburgh won a swag of awards. It still attracted the most criticism of any vintage. ‘People said it was too woody and would die within six months’, says Shaw. ‘Its advanced, deep colour copped a lot then, but it has hardly changed since.’

Shaw moved forwards, partially fermenting the wine in new oak casks, an ambitious idea in Australia at the time. Today this wine is very developed, yet still a shade simple and held together with the extra acid Shaw chose to add. The botrytis that deepened its colour when young is still very evident. If you consider it in context, this wine was undeniably radical for an Australian chardonnay in 1984.

More innovations were applied to the 1985 wine, made from an ideal cool, dry year. Shaw fermented the entire batch in oak instead of stainless steel tanks. He also introduced a bacterial malo-lactic fermentation to soften acids and generate complex creamy flavours and textures. Additionally, he became one of the first winemakers in Australia to introduce another traditional Burgundian technique by retaining the dead yeast cells in the barrels after fermentation, stirring them regularly to naturally protect the wine from oxidation. This enabled him to reduce the level of sulphur dioxide wine preservative no. 220 needed to keep it fresh.

After the 1986 vintage, which made a powerful wine, Shaw changed the Roxburgh style again, deciding not to add extra acids – again a standard Australian practice until then. His wines had the balance and length to cellar well regardless, so he figured, and time has proven him correct. Learning all the way, he also began to experiment with indigenous yeast cultures for the fermentation, instead of the universally employed usage of special cultured yeasts.

The result was the 1987 Roxburgh, the best yet, and the culmination of a perfect season. It’s a remarkable wine, with wonderful development, softness and creaminess and a scent of butterscotch, roasted nuts and flowers. Its concentration and length of flavour stamp it as a great wine, with at least another five years ahead.

After the difficult and wet 1988, Shaw took to the 1989 Roxburgh with relish, fermenting it entirely in oak using native yeasts. He also left the wine in contact with a higher proportion of dead yeast, creating a complex bready, yeasty nose with flavours of fig and nut. Rich, soft and nutty, the palate shows typical Roxburgh muscle with considerable finesse. It is just coming into its own and should last for another eight to twelve years.

A wet vintage, the 1990 still remains one of Shaw’s favourite wines. The vineyard was picked twice this year, as only the ripest bunches were hand-selected to minimise mould.

Still fining his craft, Shaw made a stunner from 1991, a good, dry year. It’s classic Roxburgh, with a spicy and lemony leatherwood nose. Long, elegant and stylish, the palate has concentrated quince and cashew flavours, before finishing long and clean. Brilliant stuff, and close to the standard of 1987.

In 1992 Shaw had little option but to resort to grape concentrate to achieve the alcohol required for the Roxburgh style and the season deprived him of the anticipated quality. However he is pleased with the 1993 vintage and excited at the thought of next year’s wine.

Not the type to rest on his laurels, Phillip Shaw says he is never entirely happy with his results. He confesses: ‘There is no wine I have ever made I didn’t think I’ve buggered up’. But what about the incredible 1987? ‘A bit heavy and too strong. It needs more length. The later wines have length but no soul. At least the 1987 has soul.’

Extraordinary words, from a master of his craft. I certainly hope I’m still around when he thinks he’s made a good ‘un. Please login to post comment