Yalumba put on a suitably extraordinary event to celebrate the company’s 175th birthday that featured a host of celebrated Australian and international fine wines.
In any pursuit, 175 years of endeavor is well worth celebrating, even more so when it is in the agricultural industry, and especially when it comes to wine production. While it may make a mockery of the term “New World winery,” Yalumba, in South Australia’s Barossa Valley, reaches that milestone this year. What makes its achievement even more remarkable is that the winery has remained in family hands. Established by Samuel Smith in 1849, Yalumba now boasts six generations of vitivinicultural experience.
This anniversary, however, seems just that little bit more special. If anything confirmed that this was much more than merely a perfunctory nod to the passage of time, it was the sight of the usually immaculately composed, internationally respected chief winemaker for Yalumba, Louisa Rose, dancing like a whirling dervish while the band mangled an almost unrecognizable rendition of Springsteen’s “Dancing in the Dark.” It would have been no surprise to see the entire Hill-Smith family and the whole team from this unique winery join her, such was the sense of relief: They had pulled off one of the finest tastings and most memorable celebrations seen in Australia for quite some time.
Robert Hill-Smith has described the milestone as “a reflection of our resilience and a commitment to mastering our craft, generation after generation. It also acknowledges the many exceptional fine-wine people who have come through the gates of Yalumba across three centuries, with shared love for our property, our wines, and our industry. Most of all, it is celebration of an exciting future ahead for our family business and the world of Australian fine wine.”
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A leader in every aspect of viticulture and winemaking in this country, Yalumba gives us little reason to doubt that future. Throughout the roller coaster of ups and downs that the family, and the wine industry at large, has experienced over the past 175 years, Yalumba has remained a family winery. And today, the next generation is already ensconced to take it to even greater heights.
Yet unlike most wineries, Yalumba is not preoccupied with ensuring its own survival and success. Well, not solely. Yalumba and its own importing arm, Negociants, are contributors. For many years, Negociants was responsible for most of the great names in the Australian wine industry. Things have changed a little these days, with many more players in the game, but its list will still give any wine lover goosebumps. I cannot imagine the number of local writers, winemakers, retailers, and consumers who have benefited from the winery visits arranged by Negociants (currently headed by Tim Evans, with David Lemire MW and Peter James before him.
Perhaps even more importantly, Negociants established in 1998 a program called the Working with Wine Fellowship. Every third year (more often in the past, but Covid and the woes of the world have intervened), several hundred wine professionals from around the country attend seminars held in the capital cities. They host two seminars with different themes—this year, Champagne and Piedmont. Most attendees also enter the accompanying competition. After tasting exams and a written paper, two winners are chosen—one from the Negociants staff and one from outside—to visit the great wineries of Europe. Domaine de la Romanée-Conti, Domaine Dujac, Domaine Faiveley, Scavino, Guigal, Hugel, Antinori, Conterno, Isole e Olena, Vieux Télégraphe, Egon Müller, Petrus, Domaine Leflaive, and Sassicaia all grace this list.
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When such luminaries of the wine world as Aubert de Villaine, Franco Conterno, Christian Pol-Roger, and Etienne Guigal fly to Australia to present seminars, one can see the esteem in which the program is held worldwide. The real benefit of the fellowship is, to me, the knowledge and tasting experience it provides to all attending, and the subsequent contributions these people have made—all thanks to the generosity of Robert Hill-Smith, his family, Yalumba, and Negociants.
There are numerous other ways in which Yalumba is important. To my knowledge, it remains the only winery in the country that maintains a cooperage, believing it to be a necessary component of the local wine industry. Beyond this, for 50 years, it has run the leading viticultural nursery in the country, which it makes open to all wineries.
If not for the efforts of Yalumba, and especially Louisa Rose, Viognier might well have disappeared from the vineyards of the world, or at least been nothing more than a curiosity. Rarely has a grape been so effectively championed by a single winery. Prior to that, Yalumba led the move of Riesling from the Barossa to the Eden Valley, via Pewsey Vale. It was a brave decision, especially when, as Max Lake wrote in his Classic Wines of Australia (1966), “The greatest wine of the Barossa […] is known throughout Australia as Barossa Riesling, and the most classical of all is Yalumba’s Carte d’Or Riesling.”
Yalumba took further risks. The overwhelming move to screwcaps in this country, quickly followed by New Zealand, is largely attributed to a number of Clare winemakers—and they were crucial in what was really a follow-up effort. As far back as 1964, Peter Wall, a director of Yalumba, was so sick of cork taint that he commissioned a French company to develop an aluminum alternative: the Stelvin. In the late 1970s, Yalumba and associated producers pushed hard for screwcaps, but the market was still not ready. When the time came, it was these early efforts that had laid the groundwork.
Then, in the early 1990s, Robert came up with the idea of the 2-liter premium cask (bag-in-the-box, outside Australia). Casks had, until that time, been 4 or 5 liters, and little better than very ordinary plonk. Robert put quality wine in 2-liter casks to see how it would work. Suffice to say, they still sell well today.
A more recent innovation was the Old Vine Charter, introduced in 2009 by the Barossa as an attempt to provide clarification for the extraordinary vineyard resources the region possesses. While it might have been a regional promotion, it was very much driven by Hill-Smith and Yalumba. That same year, keen to show the world what family wineries in Australia could do, Robert brought together a dozen of the best in Australia’s First Families of Wine.
Perhaps we should not be surprised. Andrew Caillard MW, in the first volume of his epic The Australian Ark notes that “perhaps the greatest legacy of Samuel Smith was the spirit of kinsmanship he created within the Barossa. He not only supplied cuttings to the local growers from all backgrounds but also bought fruit from them. In a society that could have easily fractured because of social and religious differences, Yalumba epitomised the ambitions, tolerance and collaborative spirit of 19th-century South Australia.” The same thing could be said of Robert, today’s custodian—but on a national level.
Yalumba: Doing things differently
Therefore, when Yalumba eschewed showcasing its own people, history, and achievements after 175 years, it was not at all out of character. Yalumba does things a little differently: To mark its own anniversary, it was other producers, friends, and even competitors that were put to the fore. A tasting was held with bottles from the legendary Yalumba Museum Cellars, where it has been squirreling away the great wines of the world for many decades.
Before we address the veritable cavalcade of astonishing offerings, perhaps a nod to its own history? No such luck on the day. For that, we need to look elsewhere. Older Aussie wine histories will all make mention, but perhaps the best source is Rob Linn’s book Yalumba & Its People (1999) for its 150th-anniversary celebrations.
Samuel Smith, a brewer from Dorset, England, was only 35 when, in 1847, he gathered his wife and five children and sailed for South Australia. After a brief and apparently uncomfortable period squatting by the River Torrens, the entire family and their worldly possessions were packed into a wagon and taken by bullock to the Barossa Valley. Their journey finally stopped at the so-called town of Angaston, then little more than a small collection of shacks. Much of the land was owned by George Fife Angas, who gave Smith a job in his orchards. Quickly seeing how well vines did there, Smith convinced Angas to sell him 30 acres (12ha), which he planted, by day and by moonlight, in 1849. The farm was called Yalumba, which in the local dialect meant “all the land around.”
In 1852, with Australia in the midst of gold fever, Smith and his son headed for the Bendigo goldfields in neighboring Victoria, a five-week journey, while his wife was left with their daughters and vineyards. It was unrewarding work in Bendigo: Smith sunk 16 shafts, with not a nugget to be seen. Finally, the 17th paid dividends, and the £300 he received from selling his share afforded the family a plow, two horses, and most important, a further 80 acres (32ha).
The reputation of Yalumba’s wines grew gradually over the years and was soon celebrated: In 1866, it received a bronze plaque at the International Exhibition in London, and in 1878, a silver medal at the Paris Universal Exhibition. A decade later, Samuel Smith passed away and was succeeded by his son Sydney, who in turn was succeeded by his sons Walter and Percy.
The next generation saw the sons of Walter—Sidney Hill-Smith and Wyndham Hill-Smith—take up the mantle (the “Hill” became part of the patronymic through Clem Hill, Wyndham’s uncle and Australian cricket captain from the pre-Bradman era). Tragedy struck in 1938: Sidney was killed in the Kyeema air disaster, when a flight from Adelaide to Melbourne crashed, killing all aboard.
Although the corporate structure is a mystery to those outside the family, the current head is Robert Hill-Smith, Wyndham’s son, who took over back in 1985 as a 34-year-old. Now, the sixth generation is already making waves. Robert’s daughter Jessica works by her father’s side, though much of her extensive experience in the wine industry came from outside Yalumba. Jessica’s sisters, Georgia and Lucy, are following in her footsteps.
This impressive family history barely figured in the celebrations. Instead, an extraordinary tasting was arranged for between 80 and 100 of their closest friends. This was no formal, sit-down, solemnly silent tasting over many hours (even if some of us might have preferred that, to get the most from the wines). Rather, Robert arranged for small brackets to be set out on tables in the large Octavius Cellar, emptied for the purpose. We formed small groups of three or four—I was tasting with two old friends and colleagues, Huon Hooke and Tyson Stelzer—and worked on a shared basis. A small sample was poured into one glass and then shared among the group, so the quantities were small, but sufficient. It worked so well that wine was left over from most offerings, even though there were no more than two bottles of each.
An amazing, wide-ranging tasting
The wines either came from the Yalumba cellar or were sent from wineries around the world for the occasion. We kicked off with a sort of Le Mans start, stationary at various tables and then off we went: You might start with fortifieds, move to Chardonnay, across to Bordeaux, then Riesling. It was all good fun. My only quibble, from a writer’s perspective, might be that there was not enough time to look properly at everything on offer; our group had to sacrifice wines like the Guigal 1985 Hommage à Etienne Guigal, Yalumba’s 2014 Caley (though the 2019 at dinner eased the pain), Henschke’s 2009 Hill of Grace, and Chave’s 2009 Cuvée Cathelin, among others. But it all still meant a chance to taste some truly amazing wines. A quick look at some follows, but first, an unforgettable entrance.
As we walked into the cellar, we were handed a glass of Champagne: the 1921 Pol Roger. Pol—a close associate of Yalumba/Negociants and, by coincidence, also celebrating its own 175th anniversary (see pp.90–93)—
had sent three bottles from its cellars. Disgorged in 2013, it offered astonishing complexity, length, and concentration. An extraordinary Champagne.
On the “Riesling Plus One” table, a magnum of Egon Muller’s 1988 Scharzhofberger Riesling Auslese was the star. Sublime balance and length. The plus one was the Yalumba Virgilius Viognier 2003, its first under screwcap.
It is worth mentioning, even if the message has not yet got through, that the variation between the two bottles on offer was often so pronounced that, in my opinion, any winery not using screwcaps for its best wines is doing it and its customers a huge disservice.
The next table—a trio of “Chardonnay”—stimulated considerable debate. Everyone seemed to agree on the glories of the magnum of Giaconda 2011 Chardonnay from Beechworth, but there was less unanimity over the Domaine de la Romanée-Conti 2004 Montrachet and Bonneau du Martray 1999 Corton-Charlemagne. For me, they were very different but wonderful wines, especially the DRC (my top for the table and one of the very best of the day). It had an incredible richness, with kumquats and honeycomb, yet still had thrilling freshness. The Bonneau was slightly leaner but full of oatmeal and nuts.
On the “Grenache and Friends” bench, there were four wines, all very different but a glorious quartet. The Vieux Télégraphe 2010 Châteauneuf-du-Pape was full of energy and sour-cherry notes; Beaucastel 2009 Châteauneuf-du-Pape was more gamey, with dark fruits; the Yalumba Tricentenary Grenache 1999, from vines planted in 1899, was firm and earthy, with notes of fresh beetroot; and the 1999 Château Rayas was finesse and funk, truffles, florals, and strawberries.
There was little doubt that the dazzling “Burgundy” table would attract the most attention. A magnum of Domaine Dujac 1985 Clos de la Roche was a compelling start, but the two wines that followed will remain in the memory for many years: a pair of DRC La Tâche, from 1999 and 1985. Two legends (and evidence of how amazingly generous is the Hill-Smith family). It was near impossible to split them, and the crowd seemed genuinely divided down the middle. In the end, I gave the ’99 99 points (power of suggestion?) and the 1985 100 points. But I still feel as though I shortchanged the 1999.
Among the “Cabernet and Shiraz,” a really impressive Lindeman’s Limestone Ridge Coonawarra Shiraz/Cabernet 1986 showed why we love this region so much. The Yalumba FDR 1A Claret 1974, a 60/40 Cab/Shiraz blend from the Barossa, was fragrant and mature. Bin 389 1964 from Penfolds was a fine, old mature Aussie red—a thrill to see a Bin 389 of this age.
“Cabernet and Other Friends” was always going to cause debate. A magnum of Tignanello 1985, sent from its cellars, was stunning—an exquisite wine with a great future. Sassicaia 1985 was next. I’ve seen this wine twice before, and both times I gave it 100 points without hesitation. It is, for me, one of the truly great wines of all time. One bottle was ripe, complex, mature, and appealing. A very fine wine, but no one could accuse it of threatening the two I’d previously seen. The second was, tragically, a touch corked.
As disappointing as that might have been (and yes, as they say, very much a first-world problem), the magnum of 1982 La Conseillante from Pomerol did not improve things. The nice way of describing it might have been earthy, farmyard-like, rural. Others might have suggested Brettanomyces. Reviews would suggest that there are much better bottles/magnums in existence. Tastings like these will always see a bottle or two underperform. I guess you just hope it is not your bottle… or your favorite.
Fortunately, we were quickly back to form with the utterly gorgeous Vega-Sicilia 1985 Único Reserva. Complex and ever so long, this was full of smoked meats and cassis. Stunning stuff and, for me, the best Vega-Sicilia I have ever encountered.
A trio of Bordeaux (“Cabernet and Even More Friends”) was the sort of experience for which one would have traveled across the country—even if there had been no other wines. The magnum of 2012 Latour was a big, powerful, concentrated effort, all leather, tobacco leaf, spices, and aniseed. Thrilling stuff. The Haut-Brion 1990 was HB DNA to its core, with mushrooms, graphite, leather, and coffee grinds. Glorious drinking. The final Bordeaux of the trio was the 1990 Lafite. I had a couple of 100-point wines on the day, and this was certainly one of them: precise, taut, focused, balanced, and so ethereal. Magnificent. If one wanted a Bordeaux to show aliens, when they arrive, just how good they can be, this would be the wine.
A few to finish. A magnum of 1999 Yquem was magic. Honey and cream, rich and lingering. It will be around for Yalumba’s 200th anniversary and many others after that.
Two Ports. One was a magnum of 1977 Warre’s. I am not unbiased when it comes to this wine. The first full dozen bottles of anything I ever bought were this very wine, and over the years it has mostly drunk beautifully (mine and others), with an occasional hiccup. This magnum was simply the best I have ever seen it. Wonderful Port. Another wine that will be around for many future anniversaries.
Speaking of which, our final “Port” gave every indication that, even though it is already more than a century old, it would grace us for another 100 years. The Yalumba 1923 Shiraz Port (from the days when such names were permissible) is effectively a version of an Australian colheita, bottled after 12 years in barrel, in January 1935. The spirit used was a Yalumba-distilled brandy. Incredibly complex and long—all licorice, honey, and nuts—it seems immortal. Age has not wearied it in the least.
Family wineries are tough gigs… But if I had to bet on any one of them making another 175 years, I would not hesitate to back Yalumba and the Hill-Smiths. On this occasion, as on so many others, the respect and affection in which the winery, the Hill-Smith family, and the whole team are held was fittingly and wonderfully evident.
