I could, I guess, try to act like I know a lot about Australian wine. 

There’s Wendouree, which has produced singular, structured, and very slow-to-develop reds in the Clare Valley for more than 100 years. There are the stunning Reserve Rieslings made by Crawford River in the far Southwestern reaches of Victoria, or those made by Grosset, which is also in the Clare Valley. There’s Rockford’s legendary Basket Press Shiraz, which harkens back to an earlier, pre-Parker time in the Barossa. There’s pretty much any wine that Taras and Amber Ochota of Ochota Barrels have made in the Adelaide Hills, and the generation of natural-leaning winemakers they’ve inspired throughout the country; Luke Lambert’s exquisite Yarra Valley Syrahs, Chardonnays, and Nebbiolos; William Downie’s world-class Pinot in Gippsland; what Michael Dhillon of Bindi and Joshua Cooper are doing in the Macedon Ranges. There’s Mac Forbes. Tom Shobbrook. Jamsheed’s Gary Mills. 

And now I’m rapidly running out of references. Also I’m dropping names of regions like I know, in some detail, what they represent, and I kind of don’t. I mean, we are talking about a country that’s the size of the US, with a wine history that’s even older than America’s. (Another reason to be more curious about Australia: this is a country with a lot of really old vines. To cite just two examples, the world's oldest known Grenache and Semillon vines are in the Barossa Valley.) If we’re being real about this, it’s only been very recently that the most exciting next generation Australian wines have made it to these shores. 

Which is why I’m very glad that I’ve been speaking with Jane Lopes. 

In late 2023, Lopes and her husband Jonathan Ross—they’re both Master Sommeliers—published their spectacular guide to the country’s wines, How To Drink Australian. At roughly 500 pages, it’s definitive, eminently readable, and gorgeously designed. (One unfair advantage in that regard: its many photos of Australia’s beyond-spectacular natural beauty, a beauty so hallucinogenic and extreme that I suspect, in certain countries, it would qualify as a Class A narcotic.) It’s one of the best wine books I’ve read this decade. 

Lopes and Ross both somm’d at very high levels in Australia: Lopes at Melbourne’s Attica, when it hit its peak on the World’s 50 Best Restaurants list, and Ross as wine director for that city’s Rockpool Group. They’ve since returned to the U.S., and now run the Australian wine importer Legend. Legend focuses on exactly the kinds of wines I reference above, even if doing so sometimes requires some explanation. 

“You don’t have people walking into retailers and restaurants asking for cool climate Australian Syrah or Tasmanian Riesling,” Lopes dryly observes. (Editor’s note: don’t be like those people; ask for both.) As she well knows, Australian wines’ heyday in the States “was certainly built on the shoulders of a bunch of Robert Parker-approved big Shiraz.” 

Which, at least in some circles, are still in demand. Some months back I found two Chris Ringland Shirazes from the early aughts on a retail site. These had notched Parker scores of 98 and 100, clocked in with absolutely brutal ABVs of 17.6% and 17.7%, and both sold for several hundred dollars per.

It’s not just Parker, though. During the financial crisis of 2008, the sudden and extreme economic downturn meant that U.S. drinkers were spending less on wine, just as the Australian dollar became unusually strong versus the dollar. “Almost everything fell out of the market, except for the producers big enough to weather the storm,” Lopes recalls. Which meant “the rise of Yellowtail,” and others like it. “Australia became known for two things: big, alcoholic Shiraz, and cheap critter wine.”

Against that backdrop, though, a slightly sub rosa rebirth happened. In the first decade of this century, a host of key next-generation winemakers—among them Ochota, Downie, Lambert, and Yarra Pinot specialist Timo Mayer—notched their first vintages. In doing so, they established a new template for Australian wine: lower-octane, low-intervention; smart and searching explorations of terrain (and especially older vineyards) beyond the Barossa Valley, which gave the world so many big, booming Shirazes. 

But there’s a danger in shrinking the wine world of a country as vast as Australia to fit such a tidy narrative. As Lopes is quick to point out, “so much good stuff was going on before that, too.” She points to Frankland Estate,  which put the remote-even-by-rural-Australian-standards Great Southern wine region, near southwestern tip of the continent, on the map. Or those she cites as key players in the country’s Margaret River region (also quite remote, and its southwesternmost region): “Cullen, Moss Wood, and Voyager, which are all still quite significant.” All of them started in the ‘70s. And there’s the likes of Yarra Valley’s Yarra Yering, established in 1969, and Mount Mary, established  in 1971, neither of which produce wines that would be mistaken for Parkerzillas. 

When I went to Sydney for the first time in 2013, the vastness and vitality of Australian wine astounded me. That realization was followed by a nasty little burr once I got home: so much of it was unavailable in the States. Back then, Australians were mostly keeping the great new stuff for themselves. You could find Ochota Barrels, but so much that really struck me was really hard to track down: Williams Downie’s Pinots, the sanguinary and iron-cored cool-climate Syrah that Gary MIlls made at Jamsheed; Luke Lambert’s exquisite wines; the filigreed lime and finger-lime aromatics of Crawford Hill Riesling—and this is just a select few, based on my own limited experiences groping around for these kinds of wines, and I’m certain I’m unfairly omitting dozens of others. 

That’s changed somewhat—but only somewhat. It’s also why I’m so fascinated by Lopes’ book, and why I was so eager to speak with her. 

The Seven Bottles That Explain Australian Wine Right Now

The shtick for our conversation was this: let's make a list of six wines that tell the story of Australian wine right now, I’ll taste them, and we’ll discuss them via the wonders of Zoom. The way it shook out was that Lopes chose the whites and I chose the reds. It ended up being seven wines, because I couldn’t bring myself to decide between two excellent, and quite distinct, William Downie Pinots. 

In case this point needs to be further underscored: not one of the below wines had ABVs that topped 13.5%, and more than half of them were 13% or lower.  And yes, some of these are from producers from Lopes’ portfolio, but not all of them are. My notes are directly beneath each wine; Lopes’ comments, condensed and edited for clarity, follow. 

Australian Wine Essentials: White  

 2021 Chalmers Greco ($30)

 A tightrope walker, this one. There is a generous midpalate–ripe stone and orchard fruit–but a very pronounced tart apple and citrusy acidity in the framing and therefore a remarkable vivacity. A hint of oak, and significant freshness. Definitely the most unique of the whites herein–very characterful stuff, a wine whose vibe and profile I continued to revisit (in my mind, at least) long after the bottle was empty.

Lopes: “Jenni and Bruce Chalmers are both from farming families. They started farming in Murray Darling in Northwestern Victoria, in the ‘80s. Everybody at the time was planting Chardonnay and Merlot and Shiraz—the grapes that were popular—but they just weren’t well-suited to the climate, because this was a warm, dry, Mediterranean climate. As farmers, they felt there had to be a better plant for their farm. They started doing their research, and it brought them to Italy. They started bringing Italian grapes over in the mid-’90s.” 

“They didn’t come from the perspective of ‘oh, we like Brunello. We’re going to bring over Sangiovese.’ They’d probably never had a Brunello before. They’d probably never had a Sangiovese before. At that time, the availability of Italian wine in Australia wasn’t great. They were bringing over grapes they thought would work well on their site. They ended up with some grapes that are a bit more well known, like Vermentino and Aglianico and Greco. But they also brought over Pavana and Piedirosso and Schiopettino and Uva di Troia.” 

“I just think their wines are phenomenal. They do a handful of monovarietal wines—they do a Nero D’Avola, Aglianico, Greco, Vermentino, Fiano. They do a sparkling Fiano, which is really good. We’re in Heathcote for this wine—central Victoria. Heathcote is probably at least 60 percent planted to Shiraz. And now, [winemakers there] really struggle to make Syrah under 15.5%.” 

“They age this in neutral oak There’s this real freshness and brightness to it, but also a broadness without a weightiness. It’s pretty amazing to talk about a region where you struggle to make flavor-ripe Shiraz that’s under 15.5%, but here you make really fresh, bright, and clean Greco.“

2022 Patrick Sullivan Chardonnay Black Sands ($55)

The package here is subtler and less dramatic than the Chalmers, but once again there’s the balance of ripe fruit on the midpalate–apple and pear this time, with distinct lemony overtones–surrounded by a freshness, drive, and just the right kind of acidity. Definitely from a region that we once called “New World,” but wholly distinct from top examples from Oregon or California. 

Lopes: “For a while, Patrick was very much positioned in the natural wine world. He’s a biodynamic farmer, and he used to do sort of irreverent, chillable Cab Franc and Pinot Gris blends. I think at a certain point he wanted to distance himself from the natural wine moniker, because it did feel limiting to him, and it felt like people weren’t taking his wine seriously. Like ‘ah, these are just fun, glou-glou,’ when he’s truly making some of the best Chardonnay in this country, as far as I’m concerned.” 

“This is from a vineyard in Henty, in western Victoria. Quite a cool climate—right on the border of South Australia on the coast. He’s also sourcing a few other vineyards in the southern part of South Australia, on the limestone coast.” 

“For many of our producers, it’s Chardonnay among many other things. For Patrick, it’s almost exclusively Chardonnay. He has an amazing eye for it, both with winemaking and viticulturally. And it’s fun to taste some regions that aren’t in everyone’s mouths yet.” 

2021 Stargazer Riesling Palisander Vineyard ($54)

Straddles German Riesling and Australian Riesling aromatics in a very interesting way, with petrol and lime/lime zest notes both in evidence. The balance of sweetness and acid is absolutely finely-tuned without losing the sensibility of a dry Riesling from this part of the world. Classic flavors and–I’ll use this word again, but it keeps applying to these driving Australian whites–very vivacious. 

Lopes: “Sam [Connew, the winemaker and owner of Stargazer] is not making this in the classic Australian way. She is picking a little later. She leaves a bit of residual sugar, not a lot, but it cushions the acidity a little bit.”

“You still get a Southern Hemisphere sensibility to the wine, but, to me, it’s a little more nuanced than your classic commercial Clare [Valley] and Eden [Valley] Riesling. There’s a lot of great Clare and Eden Riesling! We sell some. But I think the barrel aging [in ceramic eggs, not oak], leaving a bit of residual sugar, all of this makes this, to my palate, an interesting and nuanced wine. Tasmania has become an epicenter for that style of production, and Sam is leading the charge.”

Australian Wine Essentials: Red  

2019 Luke Lambert Syrah Yarra Valley ($55)

Violets on the nose, brambly fruit on the palate, with a very alluring floral top note running through it. Every goddamned component and aspect of this wine is shrouded in beauty; smart, delicious, harmonious, and oh so goddamned craveable. A new and classic expression of Syrah—perhaps the world’s most important new-ish expression of the grape?— and not to be missed. I buy this in quantity every year; those bottles disappear way too quickly. One of my favorite Australian winemakers, and an exemplar-slash-pioneer of next-generation Yarra Valley—which is near Melbourne, and which Lopes’ book aptly describes as “not only one of Australia’s most consistent wine regions, but one of its most exciting.”

Lopes: “I am not a big Northern Rhône Syrah person. (I know that’s heresy in the wine industry.) I’m not a brett fan, so that [rules out] about a third of them. Then you have your high-end ones that have a bunch of new oak on them, and you can’t drink them for 10 years. So you’re looking at a third that have those pure, accessible Syrah aromatics from a young age. But I always found those palates of young Saint-Joseph, young Crozes-Hermitage, and certainly young Côte Rôtie and Hermitage to be kind of tight.”

“I fell in love with Syrah in Australia. It wasn’t those 17% Shirazes. It was wines like Luke Lambert’s Syrah, from cooler climates, that have all the great Syrah aromatics you want—meat, pepper, and olive.”

2018 Ochota Barrels Grenache “The Fugazi Vineyard” ($60)

Balanced atop some kind of three-sided knife edge between primal, elegant, and joyous. Cherries and pomegranate and herbal garrigue; a bit of barnyardy natural funk (in an enhancing way as opposed to a distracting way); a serious minerally and saline crunch at the end; joyous throughout. Compact—takes its cues from lighter expressions of Grenache, and made from vines planted in 1947. Its wildly acclaimed winemaker Taras Ochota passed away in October 2020 from an autoimmune disease at the preposterously young age of 49; his wife Amber continues to make excellent wines at the domaine. Note: any opportunity to drink Ochota Barrels’ very hard-to-find 186 Grenache cuvée should not be missed. 

Lopes: “Taras and Amber—they had such an impact on culture and wine sensibilities. Not only in the Adelaide Hills [where the winery is based], but all over the country.”

“There was a lot of divisive language, and feelings, about the natural wine movement in Australia. A lot of traditional winemakers thought this was just crap, for lack of a better word, that was being made, and thought it was all total bullshit. And then you had natural winemakers who thought all the old-school, conventionally farmed and made wines were just homogeneous commercial garbage. There was this deep divide. Taras bridged that. He wasn’t anti-sulfur. He didn’t think sulfur was all that important, from what I’ve read and talked to people about. It made everyone have some important conversations. In our Adelaide Hills chapter in our book, you have people situated on one side of the equation or the other—the natural or the conventional—saying how grateful they are for that entire conversation, because it’s really pushed the region forward in terms of the quality of farming and the quality of the wines.” 

“A lot of producers—even some of the bigger producers—are taking a lighter hand with Grenache. [That] Grenache should be the next big recognizable style from Australia. It’s so good.”

2021 William Downie Pinot Noir Gippsland

Restrained but Pinot-appropriate nose. High toned, with bright red fruits, and a satisfying midpalate. Edges towards tart without crossing over into it—think pomegranate and cranberry—with Pinot sauvage beneath. Very good balance, remarkably satisfying, and an invigorating finish. Oz and Tasmanian Pinot hasn’t always landed for me (exceptions include Bindi and Ochota Barrels), but Downie makes damn good stuff and any serious Pinot hound should take note. This and the Bull Swamp are from the western part of Gippsland, in the Southeastern corner of the continent. It’s a challenging and unusually wet area—by Australia’s very arid standards, at least—though that means it permits dry-farming. But, as Lopes details below, Downie wanted to make Pinot there.

2021 William Downie Pinot Noir Bull Swamp

Great stuff. A very complex nose: friendly, with dark cherry fruit, and then the fecundity of a freshly turned field and that varietally-correct hint of decay kicks in. On the palate, earthy notes compete with the fruit, which shades darker than the Gippsland. Serious and characterful, and also the kind of wine that will make everyone at the table happy, whether they’re friends and family who just want something immediate and tasty or your most excruciating wine nerd pals (no shade intended; we are them and they are us). Still challenging to find this, and other Downie single-vineyard Pinots, in the U.S. Bug your local to stock it—or snag these other vintages of these wines—and maybe that will change. 

Lopes: “[Downie] is pretty humble. He will never bring it up himself, but he ran the show at Hubert Ligner for two vintages. He went to Burgundy, but after spending time there he felt, ‘actually, I can make profound Pinot in Australia. It will be more profound because I have a connection to the place.’ He grew up in Gippsland.”

“Bill has never really played the game, Australia has a few main channels for establishing yourself [as a winemaker]. One of those is James Halliday [a leading Australian wine critic who publishes a yearly Halliday Wine Companion that reviews tons of Australian wines]—getting scores and a star rating for your winery. The other is wine shows. They’re very prominent in Oz, in a way they are not in the U.S. For winemakers, that not only means submitting your wine to wine shows, but joining the judging circuit.” 

"Bill never did those things. There are still some circles of Australian wine drinkers that he is under the radar for. But he felt like he wanted to forge his own path. He knew what he was doing was right. He will be the first to say not all wines he has made have hit it outta the park. [But they’re] really honest wines, reflective of site, and not trying to fit into anyone else’s box. 

"Bull Swamp is [a vineyard] he and Patrick [Sullivan] lease. They farm it together. It’s their warmest site. This one to me always has the darkest fruit. I always get a distinct orange oil citrus note with this, and a decent amount of spice notes, even though there is no new oak. That really is just a character of the site.” 

"[Gippsland] is from a single vineyard–Berrys Creek. He chooses to label it just Gippsland, because it’s not a vineyard that he farms. This tends to be more high-toned—red fruited, and a bit more floral. But I also often get a little bit of a touch of a briny note to this wine. Which I think adds a really nice dimension.”

“He just makes really good wine.”