Smoke envelops me on all sides - a thick wood smoke filled with flakes of hot grey ash - and I hold my breath as I stab blindly forward with a long spatula.
"Honey," Theresa calls from the patio, "are those burgers done yet?"
After two-plus weeks in the Land of the Long White Cloud, we're experiencing an inexplicable craving for an American-style burger. There's no understanding it, really. It's not like we've been eating poorly. The local grocery store, though still bereft of ultra-exotic ingredients like garlic, is able to supply the basic fixings, and after a few missteps with the wood-fired grill at Vynfields, I'm able to build the sort of hot flame I want. On go the burgers, soon followed by cheese and some rolls.
At this precise moment, John - our host - strides by on his way to the garage. He pauses to stare at the blue haze that envelops me, seems about to offer a suggestion, but simply nods and continues on his way with a friendly wave.
Despite the smoke, they are good burgers. Terrific burgers, in fact, with all the smoky char one wants from a hot grill. To be honest, they taste a bit like an Ata Rangi Pinot Noir. Unfortunately, I also smell of charred meat, and will have to take a shower before venturing back into public. Theresa noshes, then naps while I scribble in my journal, sipping from a bottle that's made the larger part of our journey with us.
Gibbston Valley 2001 Pinot Noir (Central Otago) - Plum and mixed cherries with that zesty orange rind accent I'm coming to expect from Otago pinot. There's earthy complexity underneath this big, fruit-dominated, but balanced wine. Give it time.
A gloomy morning has turned to a partly cloudy day with a growing but not uncomfortable humidity. Sun dots and patches the nearby vines while horses snort and trot just on the other side of a fence. Even the magpies are less cacophonous than they'd been in the morning. It's a relaxing setting, and only the aforementioned shower prevents me from falling into an unexpected mid-afternoon nap. But thanks to our gregarious hosts, we have social plans that we don't want to miss.
Smoking out the hamburglar
Schubert, leader
Kai Schubert is the most vivacious German I've ever met this side of a freshly-tapped keg. He smiles, he chuckles, he quips, he takes both everything and nothing seriously. Clearly, the influence of New Zealand, now his home, is as strong as genetics. But his winery - Schubert, with which our hosts at Vynfields have a winemaking relationship - takes some of the best of both German and Kiwi philosophies and makes a series of (mostly) gripping wines that are, at least to me, heretofore completely unknown.
Sitting on Kaye and John's lovely first floor porch, overlooking the vines on a beautiful afternoon and snacking on green-lipped mussels, olives, cheese, and bread, it's not hard to understand why so many who come here, stay here. We've been invited specifically to meet Schubert and taste his wines, and as the five of us drain bottle after bottle to and past the halfway point, it's not hard to understand why he decided to make wine here.
Schubert 2001 Sauvignon Blanc (New Zealand) - Mostly Hawke's Bay fruit, though enough blending goes on that it can't carry the appellation, hand-harvested and matured on fine lees. It's a touch hot, showing lemon-lime, green apple, and chalk without a trace of herbality to green up its bright, solid fruit. In the end, it's so tasty even slightly worrisome alcohol doesn't really mar the package.
As we head into a quartet of (at least partially) German-themed wines, Schubert talks about gravity-based winemaking and how it helps preserve a "spritzig" character in his wines. This is obviously exceedingly important to him, given the number of times he mentions it, and in fact his whites do have a non-volatile "lift" to them that is clearly reminiscent of his country of origin, though none are outright perlant.
Schubert 2001 "Tribianco" (Wairarapa) - Barrel-fermented chardonnay, pinot gris from stainless steel, and even some müller-thurgau. A soft mélange of pear, mixed apples, and some vaguely floral notes. The finish dries out, then turns the faintest bit oaky (more noticeable because there's not much else going on). An interesting experiment, but unmoving.
The next three wines are from Voss and sourced from Kaye and John's cellar, but made from the grapes that Schubert is now handling from and for Vynfields. It's interesting to see the evolution of the wines, and even more interesting to watch Schubert study them, as if ferreting out the secrets of the vines that will help him turn them into better wine.
Voss 2001 Riesling (Martinborough) - Very dry, showing clover and a building white pepper-dusted lime rind character accented with Kaffir lime leaves and bay laurel. A unique expression of riesling, to say the least, and quite tasty.
Voss 2000 Riesling (Martinborough) - Less dry, but balanced between sugar and acid, showing some spicy lemon, grapefruit, and pear with a rounder, even spicier finish. This would seem to have almost nothing to do with the previous wine.
Voss 1998 Riesling (Martinborough) - From a hot year with some botrytis. Advanced and showing more typical aged-riesling character, a salty minerality paired with honeysuckle that's lovely in its simplicity and directness. But this vintage, at least, is already on the downslope.
A glass of Schubert
Schubert won't specify what he intends to do with these grapes, but it's clear that he'd prefer a little more nervosity. With this, I agree. In any case, we move on to reds.
Schubert 2000 Cabernet Sauvignon/Merlot (Wairarapa) - 75% cabernet, 25% merlot. Plum and roasted pepper on the nose, with a sweet black cherry and slightly "sugary" core that doesn't at all mar the wine. Rich, ripe, and beautiful on the palate, with lovely blackberry juiciness predominating.
Schubert 2000 Cabernet Sauvignon (Hawke's Bay) - Destemmed but not crushed and then gently lifted into steel fermentation vats, cold macerated, with inoculated yeasts, punch-downs, and an overall goal to extract little to no tannin from the seeds, then aged in 90% new French oak made by Burgundian coopers. Cassis, cigar tobacco, and a dark blackberry and very dark, green, leafy quality that doesn't detract from the classic cabernet profile of this wine; in fact, it adds a unique Hawke's Bay character that I'm just barely learning to recognize as this trip goes on. Concentrated fruit lightens a bit on the finish, to something more in the blueberry realm, but there's no denying the intensity or power of this wine. If it has a flaw, it's a slightly shorter finish than one might expect, and so I'd guess that while this will have a deliriously delicious youth and middle age, it probably won't make old bones.
Schubert 2000 Syrah (New Zealand) - 90% Hawke's Bay and 10% Martinborough fruit, spending 22 months in 70% new French oak. Plummy, concentrated, and balanced, with smoked blueberries and simple but wonderful fruit. This has yet to find its complexity, but when it does it could be a mind-blower.
Schubert 1999 "Dolce" (New Zealand) - A blend of müller-thurgau and sauvignon blanc from Martinborough and Opaki Lodge, both in the Wairarapa, from fruit that has undergone passerilage but is only slightly botrytis-infected. Spiced cinnamon, lemon, grapefruit, and orange marmalade on a bed of hay. Fascinating.
A terrific lineup of wines, leaving me mostly with the regret that our schedule and our available shipping container space wouldn't permit a visit to the winery proper, for some purchases. There's a real European-influenced elegance to these wines, yet they retain their vivid New Worldness in a most delightful way. A name to watch.
Save the Est for last
But Kaye and John aren't done with us yet. After a quick return to our cottage to freshen up, we're following them on the four-block drive to Martinborough Square for the opening of Est, a freshly-birthed wine bar right on the Square and across from the Martinborough Hotel. So newborn, in fact, that it had been under chaotic and heavy construction just a day earlier. And while everything is still not quite done, there's wine and snacks and a congenial outdoor gathering at which all of Martinborough seems gathered.
And I do mean all of Martinborough. Helen Masters from Martinborough Vineyard is here, as are a number of other winemakers, and we're introduced to most of them by social butterfly Kaye. Then we're talking to the owners of the wine bar, then the owners of the Martinborough Hotel…and all too suddenly, we're in a four-way conversation with the mayor. It's surreal, but it's also the sort of native experience that makes a touristy visit transcend the usual boundaries and become something more fundamental. Though we'll stay in Martinborough for less time than any other New Zealand destination save Auckland, this and what follows will remain one of the first and most vivid memories of the trip.
The Martinborough cult compound
As we continue to chat with the mayor, I see a familiar face just a few feet away. Familiar, though I've never met him. It's Dr. Neil McCallum of Dry River, the leading candidate for cult status among New Zealand wineries, sold almost exclusively via a long-closed mailing list and made to McCallum's excruciating standards. Or so I'm told; I've only tasted two Dry River wines - a riesling and a gewürztraminer - and the winery's heady reputation remains purely theoretical for me. I'm equally sure it will remain that way, as McCallum doesn't entertain visitors very often, and when he does, doesn't pour them wine.
But I don't count on Kaye. Idly, I comment that I'd love to say hello if she'd introduce us. Unbidden, she instead chases McCallum across the street, engages in a brief conversation, and returns, smiling. "He'll see you tomorrow at 10:30."
I guess I'm not the only one that finds Kaye difficult to resist.
Never Terrace apart
The popularity of this opening, undoubtedly Martinborough's only major social event of the evening, is apparently unexpected by the wine bar, which runs out of the wine it has been pouring. In a gesture of small town goodwill, the Martinborough Hotel starts sending over bottles of Champagne to sustain the party. But the official reception is already winding down, and little groups split off into a more traditional "evening out."
We've been chatting with Roger Pemberton of Stonecutter, a tall, sun-weathered winemaker with strong opinions on, well, just about everything. Trading trips to the bar, now selling rather than giving away wine, we settle into a table in what will undoubtedly be the dining room…once Est actually furnishes it with something more than a few benches and extension cords, and have a long conversation about New Zealand: its wine, its people, and its land.
Pemberton is very pessimistic about New Zealand's apparent (to us) natural riches, calling the country "an ecological disaster" (he has the experience to back up this statement, having worked on environmental preservation and management in a previous career). This is a depressing turn, and one we'll ponder more than a few times. Eventually, I manage to steer the conversation towards wine, asking him his opinion of the controversial Martinborough Terrace appellation.
(The background, in brief, is this: a group of Martinborough's old guard once made a move to designate a specific area of vines in and around the village as the Martinborough Terrace. They put this designation on their wines with a special label, making it one of New Zealand's first identified sub-appellations, a necessary step on the way to the maturation of a winemaking country. But it was controversial; some wineries didn't sign on, and not everyone agreed with the delineation of the borders. The death knell for the concept came when Larry McKenna, previously a strong proponent of the appellation, left Martinborough Vineyard to form Escarpment, a winery far outside the designated borders of the Terrace, after which - though I don't know McKenna's opinion on this - parallel movements started to come up with a new appellation, and to extend the Martinborough Terrace designation to the new vineyards on Te Muna Road. It was this latter movement about which I'd queried every winery representative I'd met so far. For more on this subject, read Michael Cooper's excellent essay in the Wine Atlas of New Zealand.)
"It's the same," one viticulturist had told me, of the vineyards along Te Muna Road. "It could be the same, we'll have to wait and see," countered a winemaker at another winery. "They're lying," opined a third voice from the original Terrace.
Roger is direct: "If the wines are better, we'll see how quickly [wineries on Te Muna Road] drop the association."
With all this intense conversation, we sip a few wines from Est's interesting by-the-glass list:
Pegasus Bay 2001 Riesling (Waipara) - Big and full-bodied, with a sweet, foamy minerality, honeydew, pear, lemon, and very ripe apple flavors. Quite nice, and somewhat attention-grabbing.
Trinity Hill 2001 Pinot Gris "Gimblett Gravels" (Hawke's Bay) - Flat, dull, and uninteresting. From a freshly-opened bottle. Not corked.
Allan Scott 2001 Gewürztraminer (Marlborough) - Lychee, raw nuts, zingy acidity, a "food" gewürztraminer.
As the conversation drifts late into the night, Theresa starts to flag. We say goodnight to Roger, who asks us to drop in tomorrow morning (tight scheduling, as we have a long drive ahead of us and I have an unexpected appointment at Dry River), and return to our cottage to find a note from John, our host: "Ata Rangi called. They'll meet you at 10." A first for me in New Zealand: a three-way scheduling conflict.
I shrug, the satisfaction of a day well-spent dulling any potential anxiety. A day of great and sometimes excellent wines, a day of good food, a day of activity and relaxation. And a day of interesting people. I often joke that we travel to eat, but here's travel's surprise free gift: the human connection. We know that we'll return, and we know we'll see these people again. In just a few short days, we've already found - in small measure - something more than a destination, but the comforting, enveloping warmth of someplace that feels like "home." Our journey is almost over, and here, near the end, it has become something other than a journey.
Suffused with happiness, I fall quickly asleep. The smell of charred cow lingers in the air.
![[grilling]](http://www.myspeakerscorner.com/forum/user_images/tci_martinborough_grilling.jpg)
![[Schubert]](http://www.schubert.co.nz/images/bottle.jpg)
![[Dry River]](http://www.myspeakerscorner.com/forum/user_images/tci_dry_river_entrance.jpg)