To tell you the truth, Grenache isn’t my favourite varietal. I like it, I like it a lot, but I don’t put it on a par with shiraz, cabernet sauvignon, chardonnay, riesling or South African chenin blanc. I think it’s a very good variety that is very friendly to the stylistic impulses of winemakers.
in fact, you can make just about any style of red wine you like from grenache. Sparkling, fortified, light, heavy, oaky, brittle, ethereal, lets just stop there, I think you get the point. But it’s a great, great blender. Swinney from Frankland River for instance, rightly famous for their grenache, used to blend grenache with shiraz (‘syrah’ according to Swinney) and Mourvèdre. This was without a doubt their best estate wine. No question. But it’s a blend, so apparently they couldn’t sell it, and they don’t make it anymore so it’s back to the varietal stuff. These are really good too, but if they were to put them back together Humpty Dumpty style, they would be better still.
I’m just trying to paint you the accurate picture that I think grenache in Australia, hell, anywhere, is just not that great. Good, sure, but not great. Rioja was better when there was varietal diversity in their vineyards and Chateauneuf du Pape is better, always better, if there’s a healthy chunk of other stuff too.
There are the occasional exceptions, and I love more than anything to be blown away from an unexpected quarter. Your favourites are your favourites for a reason, and you keep coming back to them because you know you’re going to like them. FOMO for most people isn’t the craving for diversity, the missing out of a potentially excellent experience, it’s the need for safety, guaranteed comfort and money well spent. But I’m determined to live a little and in my wine nerd kinda way, which means to put down the shiraz, that I know I’m going to love, and open a bottle of grenache.
All winemakers can make good wine, but excitement in a bottle is a rare thing and although we spend our vinous lives talking of site, I would stake my money on the producer and not the vineyard. I’m not saying vineyards aren’t important, but plenty of good, if unexciting wine comes off great vineyards.
It’s the producer stupid! There are many good producers of grenache, excellent even, but there are only three truly great ones, the exceptions I was talking about, Vanguardist, Serrat and Bulman Wines. To that list, I would add for awesomness and value, Saltfleet, Paralian and Vinya Vella, and greatness for these three, maybe only another vintage or two away. There are lots of other good ones to be had, sure, and some unmentioned overhyped ones not in the list but who wants to waste their money and only drink good?
Serrat has garnered an incomparable reputation, mainly from their shiraz viognier blend, chardonnay and pinot noir, but it’s their greanche that I not so secretly crave, a stunning wine that I feel was made for wine professionals. Vanguardist alas couldn’t be talked into an historic regional blend ala South African style and yet the grenache is just so beautiful and perfect, the absolute pinnacle of pinot-esque grenache, and I can taste why he didn’t want to blend. And then we have Bulman. Finally, I got there, Bulman.
Mark Bulman used to work for Turkey Flat, where he was the first producer ever to win the Jimmy Watson Trophy with grenache. I never tasted this wine, but I have had Turkey Flat a number of times, and can be pretty sure that wine, and all the others he made at Turkey Flat, were different from the wines under his own label and not nearly as good.
My first taste of Bulman was at that great temple of Australian gastronomy, the local Chinese restaurant. Wheeler Gardens Chinese to be precise and I thought grenache would be perfect to match with the sophistication of the food. It didn’t work, but being the guzzler I am, two thirds of the bottle was consumed before I did the unthinkable – I put the cork back in, saving the last third for a good wine glass and rumination.
I should add, that I was sharing the bottle, but my wife looking on, visibly shocked at the cork insertion was concerned and puzzled. That is until we got home washed our mouths out and begun again, I only wished it was the beginning and not the end of the bottle. It was, and is, the single best bottle of Australian grenache I have ever tasted. I couldn’t tell you which vineyard it was off, the vintage 2023 is all I’ve got for you. Grenache just isn’t usually that exciting for me. Too simple, too stylised, or the winemaker trying to hard. And they don’t tend to age very well.
But Bulman’s iteration was breathtakingly beautiful. Pure and transparent, it had the rarest quality in wine, that it’s beauty was obvious, for anyone to smell and taste. You didn’t need to be an expert, but a human being, open minded and honest enough to acknowledge beauty when it’s presented to you. And we can all see it. Great art, beautiful people, nice cars, clothes, real estate; it’s obvious. You shouldn’t have to explain it, for something gets lost in the need to talk something up. If only an expert can see it, what’s the point? With Bulman, we are only at the very beginning and the wines are so fine and at a price that they are an embarrassment of riches. Australia’s greatest grenache producer is still affordable and available, but it won’t be for long.
Mark Bulman Glen’s Vineyard Dry Red Grenache 2024
The best wine coming off the acclaimed Stonegarden vineyard from any variety. It might be the last Mark Bulman grenache off this site too, Glen having sold up to Rockford. This is a classic, a benchmark, and a boundary shifter for the varietal and as such, buy as much as you can. Investment grade stuff. It’s hard to imagine such ethereal prettiness coming from such a warm wine region, but perhaps the sheer concentration of intensity is a tell. Super aromatic, with lavender, geranium and rose notes, pink peppercorns, baking spices, orange zest, fresh earth and red fruit compote. Medium bodied and lightly coloured, but there’s a vibrancy to the hue, matching the aromatic and sensual presence. It has that nebbiolo-esque sense that you can’t believe the complexity of elements, matched by the shattering power, and all wrapped up in a weave of taught, corseted tannin. I’m sick of the increasing price of fine wine in Australia, often the rort of multi-generational wealth, yet here we have a majestic bargain. Norris at Waters Wine Co
From the Stonegarden vineyard, first planted in 1857 (this from original vines, reworked over time). The ’24 vintage was Glen Monaghan’s last, having since sold the site to Rockford. The second release, and this bottling is already a high watermark for lithe, refined and detailed modern Barossa grenache. A gust of red florals, red and sour black cherry, bitter red aperitivo, ground warm spices, a rusty note, alpine-like herbal scents, ground fennel, and all so poised. There’s space to see the detail, underwritten by a quiet yet insistent current of old vine gravitas and soulful, site-specific resonance carried by intricately etched tannins. Stunning. 97 Points, Halliday Wine Companion
Mark Bulman Gary’s Vineyard Grenache 2024
Springs Hill vineyard, is yet another vineyard that has changed hands recently, with Skye Salter and Charlie Seppelt of Paralian taking ownership. The big question I suppose is if I have a preference for either of Mark Bulman’s grenaches, and I would answer emphatically, no. Time in the bottle will no doubt yield a favourite, but for the time being they’re both unbelievable. There is greater richness here compared to the Glen’s and the 2023 vintage for that matter, but it’s still medium and ethereal, the power coming from the intensity of flavour and texture, not its weight or colour. Lavish and enthralling with summer berry compote; the fruit so pure and sweet, tensioned by tangy freshness. The tannins rich, harmonised and long; etched deeper and sensually unravelled. The palate carries a pillow of pure, smooth flesh; rubbed with fresh compost, Middle Eastern spices and Ghee. Just an extra degree of muscle and oomph and frankly, I prefer this to the extraordinary 2023. Norris at Waters Wine Co
From the Springs Hill vineyard in Blewitt Springs, with the ’07-planted grenache grown by Gary Whaite. Pale in the glass, this is less effusively spicy than the ’23, somewhat coiled, but with more power behind it. A story of vintage. Power is misleading, though, as this is just so refined, rolling through sour red cherries, dried cranberry, fresh bay and advieh spicing – cardamom, cinnamon, rose and cloves – the tannic framework so lacy and just so finely assertive. It’s early on this, but, having tasted it over a couple of days with ample air, it’s an exceptional release with a thrilling future. 97 Points, Halliday Wine Companion
