Most wine scholars who care to remember
will recall with a wry smile the Kiwi wine
industry in the 1980s. It was nigh on
impossible to find any bottle of note and
consumption was generally associated with
White Cloud – one enterprising producer’s
response to a surfeit of Müller-Thurgau. If it
sounds unseemly, it was. The domestic market was non-
existent and largely an afterthought of the dairy industry;
temperature control and stainless steel were a way of life
for many farmers. But there were murmurings. One recalls
the seminal release of Te Mata’s 1982 Coleraine, CJ Pask’s
blockbuster Gimblett Gravels Bordeaux blend of 1985 and,
in the same year, Cloudy Bay’s debut, the South Island
game changer.
Liberalisation kickstarted by David Lange’s government in the very late 1980s
opened the doors for an industry ripe for a make-over. Taxation and licensing
were simplified. Australian producers were given market access for the first
time. The generic promotional body “Wines of New Zealand” was established
and there was a concerted drive to grub up Müller-Thurgau and plant
premium varieties. Special mention must go to the sine qua non Cloudy Bay
– it was a flag-bearer in exactly the same way that Grange was for Australia
and Sassicaia was for Italy. Seemingly overnight dross was out: people wanted
to drink premium Kiwi Sauvignon Blanc.
In the unlikely event that, like me, you have studied aerial photographs of
Marlborough in 10-year increments (beginning 1995), you will note the dramatic
change from sheep pasture to vineyard. 86% of wine exported from New Zealand
is Sauvignon Blanc; 77% of it comes from here. The charming and iconoclastic
Ozzie academic, Dr. Tony Jordan, brought his pioneering anaerobic (excluding
oxygen) winemaking techniques to Marlborough at just the same time as Cloudy
Bay was taking the world by storm and the result was nothing short of seismic.
Everyone wanted in on the action, and who wouldn’t? The instantly recognisable
‘cat’s pee on a gooseberry bush’ drank straight off the bottling line and retailed
for the same price as Sancerre. Succulent primary fruit flavours made it fabulously
versatile, and New Zealand embraced Stelvin (screw-cap) closures before anyone
else. Iconic wine and less hassle than cork – a star was born.
Getting down to it, Marlborough is a prime winemaking spot. Rain, driven by
westerlies, falls overland before reaching the Blenheim area. The soil is largely
free-draining alluvial, and coastal breezes impart freshness. There is
abundant sunshine – latitude is roughly equivalent to Valladolid in the
Northern hemisphere – meaning high yields (and profits) are the norm.
Nights, however, are cool, with a diurnal temperature swing that can top 15
degrees. This contributes to those signature pyrazine notes in Sauvignon
including tomato leaf, tinned beans and asparagus. Perfect, really.
Marlborough’s success had a domino effect. Drive south for 250km on
Highway One (what a drive!) and one reaches Waipara, on the leeward side of
the coastal Teviotdale Hills. This complex region with steep slopes, fractured
limestone soils, and Glasnevin Gravels is more than a little reminiscent of
Alsace; Waipara is a haven for aromatic varietals including Gewürztraminer,
Riesling and Pinot Gris. Late harvest styles are food-friendly and delectable.
500km further southwest, Central Otago is the other side of the South Island
coin: small growers and low yields. What has really put this region on the
map is Pinot Noir. The first commercial release was in 1987, with global
recognition coming in the early 2000s. Central Otago lies in a gigantic rain
shadow so it’s bone dry and has the mother of all diurnal temperature swings
– from 0°C at night to 35°C during the day. These are exciting conditions,
even if the cost of production is significantly higher than in Marlborough due
to the small scale of production and low yields. Estates tend to follow the
Burgundian model: small (often less than 10ha in size), low intervention (but
always irrigated) vineyards, high prices and premium quality. Of the many
styles, the best are characterised by bright red fruit, high alcohol, a luscious
silkiness, and the obvious use of oak. Try something like Paul Pujol’s Prophet’s
Rock Home Vineyard from the Bendigo subregion for a taste of Central
Otago’s cherry and herbal richness.
North Island has its own Pinot Noir nucleus in tiny Martinborough. Near the
southern end of the island and actually a sub-region of Wairarapa, modern
plantings date from the 1970s. Its trump card is a raised plateau of alluvial
gravel that affords excellent drainage properties, encouraging just the right
amount of hydric stress. The climate is not dissimilar to Marlborough,
although the output is arguably a big step up: hugely nuanced and
plummy Pinot Noir in a way that has drawn comparisons with Burgundy.
Ata Rangi is the region’s most celebrated producer, together with Dry River
and Kusudu. To this palate, Martinborough pips Central Otago to the Pinot
Noir post.
Although the climate in New Zealand may seem too marginal for grapes
with thicker skins, careful site selection can reap brilliant rewards and
nowhere is this more true than in Hawke’s Bay. Apparently, town planners
allowed drag strips to be built on Gimblett Gravels (Hawke’s Bay’s premium
sub-region) because one could not give the land away. ‘You can’t grow
anything here,’ was the usual mantra, yet the high reflectivity and free-
draining properties of the soils meant that grapes could be grown with
resounding success. Coleraine caused a mighty stir when first released, but
the real surprise is why Bordeaux varieties were not pursued in Hawke’s Bay
in the same way as Sauvignon was in Marlborough. Yet again, the region
sits in a rain shadow, and, of course, temperatures are moderated by
proximity to the sea. Te Mata’s reputation for reds was secure as early as
1899 but, since then, it seems the lure of easy money further south (i.e.
Sauvignon Blanc) proved impossible to resist. Fortunately, Hawke’s Bay now
has a clutch of world-class producers apart from Te Mata including the
leviathan Villa Maria and Trinity Hill.
80km north of Hawke’s Bay is Gisborne with a steady coastal climate that
made it the original go-to region for Chardonnay. Maritime breezes slow the
growing season and allow fruit to develop the necessary aromatics. The
government introduced a vine pull scheme in the 1980s to support the
transition from bulk drudgery to respected Geographical Indication. Gisborne
is now making some decent Chenin Blanc (this may seem left-field but the
wines suggest it was a good decision) alongside Chardonnay.
Waiheke Island, due east of Auckland, sounds adventurous and the wines
are too. This said, it is more old school money from Auckland that greases
the wheels rather than artisans’ budgets. The scene is small: under 30
wineries – some independent, others part of larger mainland holdings, all
well-funded with established cellar-door trade for day-trippers from the
capital. A moderating influence from surrounding waters is important, but
brings with it high humidity. Bordeaux blends were Waiheke’s original
success story but Syrah, grown since the early 2000s, seems to be stealing
the show.