The smiling Thrifty car rental attendant barely looked at Russell's Japanese driver's license. She just politely inquired when his birthday was, efficiently and cheerfully processed the paperwork and wished us a pleasant trip. This was quite the opposite experience than the one we had with the raving b#@*% at the Thrifty counter in Sydney. Must write a letter, I reminded myself.
All roads lead to the Barossa it seems because even though we took the wrong road we still got there.
One minute we're driving through a quiet, nondescript suburb, passing retirement homes and well kept scrub lawns, the next thing you know we're in the Barossa Valley. That was easy. Let's start drinking. It's already 11am and we haven't had a drop yet. No wonder my hands are shaking. It's amazing how easily we slip into a drinking pattern while on vacation.
We ordered a glass of rose and chicken kabobs at Y's Cafe while we waited for John and Cindy to arrive. They took the flight right after ours and made it to Barossa just as our wine arrived at the table. We ordered more glasses and discussed our plan of attack.
John knows a lot about wine and was eager to get started so we didn't linger over lunch which was fine by me. A tour bus had just pulled up in front of the restaurant and hordes of hungry, tipsy tourists were pouring out, like a disturbed bees nest. Time to go! We got out of there just in time.
We hit four wineries that day! I'm thinking about turning pro.
That night we ate at 1918 Bistro. It's a restaurant in a old house that used to be the mayor's home. But there was nothing old about the food. It was inspired and savory. As you can imagine they had a great local wine list. We ordered a bottle of white and then afterwards, drank the bottle of red we had brought with us. Corkage is low, which is nice.
On the way back to the Pavilions we saw a fox hanging out in front of the local high school.
We peered into the darkness the rest of the way back searching for wombats and distressed koalas.
All roads lead to the Barossa it seems because even though we took the wrong road we still got there.
One minute we're driving through a quiet, nondescript suburb, passing retirement homes and well kept scrub lawns, the next thing you know we're in the Barossa Valley. That was easy. Let's start drinking. It's already 11am and we haven't had a drop yet. No wonder my hands are shaking. It's amazing how easily we slip into a drinking pattern while on vacation.
We ordered a glass of rose and chicken kabobs at Y's Cafe while we waited for John and Cindy to arrive. They took the flight right after ours and made it to Barossa just as our wine arrived at the table. We ordered more glasses and discussed our plan of attack.
John knows a lot about wine and was eager to get started so we didn't linger over lunch which was fine by me. A tour bus had just pulled up in front of the restaurant and hordes of hungry, tipsy tourists were pouring out, like a disturbed bees nest. Time to go! We got out of there just in time.
We hit four wineries that day! I'm thinking about turning pro.
- Turkey Flat - excellent rose and shiraz
- Charles Melton - excellent shiraz
- Kabminye - funny wine guys
- Rockford - hello sparkling shiraz!
Turkey Flat was the first. The tasting room, or as they say down under, "the cellar door" was a converted butcher shop. It was rustic and old, the walls aged to that warm patina it takes thousands of dollars to achieve at home. But now, instead of spilling the blood of the wild turkeys indigenous to the property, (and pigs and sheep), the only thing they spill is blood red wine. Good wine I might add, so I doubt there's much spilling.
From that first taste of Barossa we knew we were going to have problems sticking to just twelve bottles.
Charming Turkey Flat truck to match the even more charming and oh so quaffable rose and shiraz.
Turkey Flat tasting room.
The second winery was Charles Melton whose tasting room is also rustic and charming and they serve lunch. Too bad we already ate because it looked delicious. The place was packed. But the two ladies serving were efficient and full of mirth. They knew John. Who doesn't? He is rather like the honorary mayor where ever he goes. It felt like a party in there. While we waited for glasses I read the chalkboard, which listed all the wines they were pouring that day, and provided some color commentary from Australia's pre-eminent wine reviewer James Halliday.
I pointed out a rather pithy hand written description to Cindy. "Look at that comment describing the wines, it's kind of clever." I read it aloud, "under the molar." She laughed. "Dawn, that says "under the radar" not "under the molar". "Oh, but don't you think "under the molar" sounds better? It describes the wine better. You know, kind of chewy and full bodied, like the way the wine feels in your mouth?" She smiled. Time for a drink I contested.
The third winery was Kabminye, a small winery Cindy had received a postcard from inviting us to visit their new cellar door. It was nice. A very modern glass structure, a la haute tin shack, set amongst the vines, off a jaunty dirt road. There was a pot belly stove and three dusty locals, worn men with equally worn work boots and floppy hunting hats, looked up when we came in. An older man who looked like a retired Santa Claus (white trimmed beard, belly) was pouring for a clearly over-served gentleman at the end of the tasting bar.
We waited while he haggled with the drunk guy. It seemed they were having a bit of a discord but finally the drunk guy left. Even though we only asked for two tastings amongst the four of us, he pulled out four glasses. Even though we only wanted to try the reds, he insisted we try the whites too. It took a few pours before he finally warmed up to us. I had already taken to calling him "Frosty" given his icy demeanor and Santa Claus beard.
We inquired over who wrote the tasting notes because they were unapologetically flippant.
Durif Carignan Shiraz 2008 $10.00 $42.50 $510.00
This lovely monster is packed full of deep, dark fruit and spice, and we wait several years before
letting it off the leash. Made from 40% Durif, 40% Carignan, 20% Shiraz. Drink to 2030. 110 cases made.
"That would be my son-in-law." Frosty said, rather brusquely. And then his son-in-law showed up. He had a beard too, although his was brown, not white. The son-in-law was really knowledgeable about wine and very funny. He and his father-in-law bantered back and forth on the merits of each one. It was like watching a ping pong match between two Amish guys.
He asked if we were sinners. Huh? By this time we were just finishing the last red. We generally avoid the sweet or "fortified" wines. In spite of, or maybe because of this, Frosty importuned we try the sweet wine. His son one-upped him and insisted we try it over ice cream the way the wine notes recommend.
Kerner Mistelle 2008 500ml $6.50 $22.50 $270.00
This Mistelle is made from fresh Kerner grape juice, fortified with neutral spirit. After three years ageing in
American oak it has become a lively, full-‐bodied, butterscotch-‐y sweet wine. We recommend it on ice as an
aperitif, or at the end of a meal with cheese or fresh fruit-‐ And if it's a sin to serve it over ice cream, then sinners we are.
Let's just say sin is good. The bullying worked. We ended up buying a bottle of the sticky stuff. It was damn good over ice cream.
The wine may not have been the best here, but the colloguy was vastly enriching. At one point we got into a discussion about local wildlife. I asked Frosty if he had ever seen a koala bear. He said, and I quote, "No, I've never seen a koala. But there was that time I had one in my car." Hmmm. Maybe he should stop sampling his own product?
He relayed this story of how he was driving through a national park nearby and oncoming traffic kept flashing their lights at him. He slowed down thinking it might be a police car. When he came around the bend, there in the middle of his lane, was a rather large, despondent looking koala bear. There was clearly something wrong with the poor thing so he scooped it up with a blanket he had in the back of his truck and took it to the park ranger. Turns out the koala had heat stroke. He said he was quite nervous because koalas have a reputation for being nasty. But as this one was distressed he didn't struggle much. After our initial impression of Frosty, I'd say it was the koala who should have been nervous.
The last winery we visited that day was Rockford, ahhhh Rockford. It was really crowded; but for good reason. On New Year's Eve, eve, we had shared a bottle of the Rockford Basket Press, and on New Year's Eve we had the exalted, impossible to find, life changing Sparkling Black Shiraz. So we knew the wine would be good.
While John chatted up the wine pourer, Cindy and I were tasting merrily, commenting along the way, "nice", swirl, sniff, taste, "nice", repeat, "hmmm nice" and then suddenly and without warning, "Wow"! It was like a Batman and Robin cartoon. A huge hand rendered bubble appeared above our heads that read "Kapow". "Wow! That's really good." It was the Rod and Spur.
While John chatted up the wine pourer, Cindy and I were tasting merrily, commenting along the way, "nice", swirl, sniff, taste, "nice", repeat, "hmmm nice" and then suddenly and without warning, "Wow"! It was like a Batman and Robin cartoon. A huge hand rendered bubble appeared above our heads that read "Kapow". "Wow! That's really good." It was the Rod and Spur.
But that wasn't all. "Holy Winos Batman!" To our utter delight they were actually pouring the sparkling black shiraz. Angels started singing, wallets came busting out and we bought the per person limit. Two. We practically skipped back to the car.
The cellar door.
After all the drinking it was definitely time for a nap. We headed to our accommodations - the Barossa Pavilions. We chose wisely. The Pavillions were set up on a hill, overlooking the valley. There were six of them, each spaced a discreet distance apart from another. We dropped Cindy and John at theirs, and wound our way to the other end of the property, to ours.
Each was an architectural gem built just for two. We had a glorious view and a swing on our deck to observe it from, not to mention a BBQ, in case we wanted to eat in. One whole side of the pavilion was glass, hence the need for privacy.
Each pavilion comes with a basket of fresh breakfast fare: brown eggs, hearth bread, bacon, granola, milk and OJ, plus a welcome tray of port and cookies. You gotta have that. They had pretty much thought of everything, right down to the rubber ducky that flashed rainbow lights when floating affably in the jacuzzi tub. That would be my jacuzzi tub. We'll try that later.
Entrance to the Pavilions
John and Cindy's Pavilion
Living room.
Welcome offering.
Russell in need of a nap
My jaccuzi tub with rainbow flashing rubber ducky
The view
The swing and BBQ
View from the bedroom
View from the living room.
Those specks are sheep.
Yeah, I could rough it here.
After our nap we were greeted by the welcome party, a mob of roos, as well as, some of those wild turkeys we'd heard about earlier that day.
Welcome staff
That night we ate at 1918 Bistro. It's a restaurant in a old house that used to be the mayor's home. But there was nothing old about the food. It was inspired and savory. As you can imagine they had a great local wine list. We ordered a bottle of white and then afterwards, drank the bottle of red we had brought with us. Corkage is low, which is nice.
On the way back to the Pavilions we saw a fox hanging out in front of the local high school.
We peered into the darkness the rest of the way back searching for wombats and distressed koalas.
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