Wine writer RICHARD CALVER discovered the world’s oldest grape vines in a visit to the Barossa Valley.

ON my bucket list was seeing an Ashes match live; my son and I travelled to Adelaide for the second test. 

It was very hot, and the English team was not (a mate later sent me a message that England had officially beaten the Wuhan street market for the worst use of a bat!). 

We decided on day three to take a break from the “action” and went to the Barossa to taste wine. 

Our guide, Michael Errey of Glass Half Full tours, picked us up from our hotel and it was a short drive to the Barossa: it is located 60 kilometres north-east of the Adelaide city centre. 

The valley is formed by the North Para River and overlooked by the Mount Lofty Ranges that form the Adelaide Hills. Much of the Barossa terroir is defined by the red clay that whips up as fine dust in a strong wind (that hit us in the late afternoon) but as Michael pointed out there are also sand and gravel patches, deposited by the river. 

Our first stop was to Cirillo Estate. The amazing part of this visit is that the Cirillo family are custodians of the world’s oldest grape vines. The soil is sandy loam and the non-trellised vines look resplendent: healthy, dense-leaved bushes. In a few years following 1848 when these Barossa vines were planted, Europe’s vines were decimated by a humble aphid that destroyed the work of centuries: grape phylloxera. 

The story of this pest and its control in Australia and elsewhere is a story for another day. The main point is that we should be proud that Australia has the oldest surviving vines and it sure is producing wine that stands out. 

Marco Cirillo is my kind of winemaker. He is second-generation Italian/Australian. His father purchased the land in the ’60s after wanting a change from managing pubs in Adelaide. 

“Dad wanted to produce his own table wine and after hurting his back he looked at a few sites here in the Barossa. This was the third one he looked at, six months out of work. This was all he could afford,” he says with a sweeping gesture taking in the sheds, the goats and the stretch of vines.

“But, you know, he ended up with the oldest semillon and grenache on the planet when he finally settled out here in 1969-1970.”

“Did you naturally follow in your father’s footsteps?” I asked.

“Hah, no. I was an apprentice spray painter and panel beater. I didn’t want to be in the vineyard, the work was too bloody hard,” he said. 

“But I gave them a hand at Chateau Tanunda and the owner, John Geber, took me under his wing, you know, and sent me to Charles Sturt in Wagga. I didn’t enjoy that life, so I left and started to make my own wine. I also worked in the Southern Rhone Valley and in Italy, saw in eight vintages over 15 years.”

“Do you have your own style of wine making?”

“Yeah, well, nothing much has changed in two thousand years. You get the grapes from the vineyard to the press, usually at five in the morning, no cultured yeast, filtered and fined with Bentonite,” he says.

“None of my friends are vegan, but my wine’s vegan friendly. You know it’s a pretty simple process. Some of these hipster types think that they’re Jesus just because they make wine. Jesus!” 

Marco certainly can make wine. We went through his list. The stand out was the 2015 1850 Ancestor Vine Grenache that sells at the cellar door (well, the shed) for $70 a bottle. This is a well-structured complex wine, soft yet with bright tones and a mellow finish. Take that Châteauneuf-du-Pape. Marco hit you for six in taste and value for money. 

There’s more of Richard Calver’s wine writing at citynews.com.au