A while back…a long while back…someone asked me to write a sort of comprehensive wrap-up of my New Zealand experience. With a year’s distance, the unwaveringly positive glow of a remarkable trip has faded a bit, and perhaps a little more perspective has been gained. In any case, and in response to the overwhelming demand of that one single person, here’s the wrap-up. Finally.
(For the record, I do recognize the fundamental absurdity in this exercise. The number of New Zealand wines that have passed my lips is somewhere north of 500, south of 1000, and a lot of those wines have been tasted or consumed repetitions of a few old favorites. It's not enough. In all but a very few cases, I really don’t have the perspective or experience to be passing judgments on a whole host of subjects to be found herein. But that’s what I’ve been asked to do, and thus I beg forbearance. Note also that this is done primarily from a U.S. perspective, except where noted, and the market realities elsewhere – including New Zealand – may be quite different.)
Viticulture & vinification
Over and over and over again, I hear from New Zealand winemakers that while they are linked to Australia by proximity and the endless supply of groundbreaking research and technology that flows from that country, their actual model for winemaking is a European one.
Is it true? Yes and no. It's true that some popular grape-growing climates are decidedly more like their European antecedents than their New World reconceptualizations, and that by itself is potentially their strongest possible case for following Old World regimes. But where it matters most – in the vineyard – there's an easily-apparent love of comfort that moves viticulture back towards its New World expression; a lot of flat plains with fairly fertile soil and endlessly-available water, frequently supplemented by irrigation and a cornucopia of chemicals. Some winemakers, in fact, actually bemoan their shallow root depths (though I note that they don't seek alternative vineyard sites). On the other hand, it's not clear to anyone that less-generous viticulture represents an unquestioned improvement for New Zealand; the studies, on most sites, simply haven't been done due to the extreme youth of the country's wine industry. This is an area that unquestionably needs much research, and it will be a long time before it's solved. But those producers who do better than their peers seem also to credit such tactics as hand-harvesting, denser planting, minimal treatment and European-style crop management while their neighbors roll through widely-spaced, lushly-foliaged, high-yielding vineyards with all the latest tractors and sprays.
As for winemaking, there are as many approaches as their are anywhere else, though again the majority of (but certainly not all) winemakers who do the best work either employ or partially employ winemaking methods that are less industrial than the full palette of modern techniques would allow. In other words, based more on European theory than New World theory (though in practice, ideology often takes a back seat to pragmatism). For example, it's heartening to hear producers thinking seriously about indigenous yeasts, and more than a few of the best are moving them from experimental bottlings to their basic lineups. On the other hand, one technology that could probably be used more in New Zealand is dealcoholization; whether from terroir or the extra "benefits" of the ozone hole, alcohol levels in New Zealand wines are very high, and can frequently get out of control without the use of concentrating technologies.
In any case, it's obvious that, with a very few exceptions, New Zealand's wine industry is far too young to hew religiously to any single philosophy or ideology. That most winemakers seem absolutely clear-headed on this point is the most positive of all observations I've made of their industry, and it bodes well for the future.
But is it Australian or European? The answer, at least for now, is that while there's an expressed (and sometimes practiced) desire to make wine in the style of the Old World coupled with a reflexive reliance on New World efficiencies, what really makes the country's winemakers "Old World" is their relaxed approach to figuring it all out. If Australia has led the world in the aggressive pursuit of the science of wine (which they have, even though one could and would never say that all their winemakers agree on the implementation of, or even the benefits of, that science), New Zealand seems quite content to see what happens and take what comes.
Could that change? Yes, and how it could change parallels the greatest potential danger to New Zealand's wine industry.
Industry & commerce
New Zealand has very few winemaking behemoths (though by any measure, Montana – Brancott in the States – owns a dominating percentage of the market), and it is to their credit that they produce a rather large amount of at least decent, and more-than-occasionally excellent wine. And then there are a zillion little producers, though outside funding for such ventures is increasing. But to truly develop as a winemaking country, with the experimentation and willingness to fail that must be encouraged, the smallholder concept has to remain dominant; the megacorp mindset that has already steamrolled Australia is a looming danger in New Zealand, especially with two of the country's unquestioned best wineries (Stonyridge and Dry River) sold to offshore interests in the last year.
This is one of those things that can really only be viewed from a distance. Within New Zealand, all will probably seem well for a long, long while – as I'm sure it does in Australia. But export markets are different, and New Zealand's total wine output is far too small to withstand domination by one or two companies. Matters aren't at the danger point yet, but warning signs are all around.
Within New Zealand, on the other hand, the wine culture could hardly be healthier. I wouldn't go so far as to say that everyone drinks wine, but it is certainly a part of everyday life in a way not even vaguely approximated in the States, and that's starting to disappear in the winemaking countries of Europe. Appreciation runs the gamut from novice to geek, as it does anywhere else, but a setting in which wine is not, at least potentially, part of the milieu is rare indeed.
White grapes
Sauvignon blanc – As everyone knows, this is the grape that “makes” New Zealand as an exporting country. So many grapes are, for better or worse, leashed to their European paradigms, yet New Zealand sauvignon blanc is still a remarkable expression of difference. Everyone seems to be growing it, including wineries in places a little too hot or cold to achieve proper ripeness and balance, and while the marketing necessities that drive this are understandable, along with the ubiquity comes a little too much lethargy.
It is my decided impression, both from tasting and from listening to winemakers, that the excitement that drove this grape to international stardom has nearly left the building. Many wineries are open about this, stating quite plainly that their sauvignon is no more than a supply that meets a demand. Others aren’t quite so open, but their wines say it for them. And among the few that are excited, there seems to be more passion for smooth, wooded sauvignon/sémillon blends meant for aging than for the zingy, flashy style of just a few yesteryears ago. Prices aren’t getting any lower, either, and as the wines cross the $20 (U.S.) barrier they’re forced to compete against the better Sancerres, Pouilly-Fumés, and Menetou-Salons, against which even the best of New Zealand lacks the clear advantage it often has over lesser Loire sauvignons.
As for the white Bordeaux-styled wines, it’s far too early to know where these are headed. They seem interesting enough, though excess wood is already a problem in a few of them and is sure to be the lingering danger going forward, but their aging potential remains largely untested. In the lightly- or unwooded sauvignons (especially at lower price points), there is a plague of underripeness that must be addressed; the danger that people will come to think of biting, acrid chile pepper and stewed asparagus as the essential characteristics of New Zealand sauvignon blanc is one that can’t be overcome by a few producers doing excellent work.
Chardonnay - In complete contrast to sauvignon blanc, there is real excitement here, and it's not just limited to one or two regions. While I’m not a chardonnay lover by any stretch of the imagination, with the exception of the occasional Chablis or artisanal Mâcon, it strikes me that New Zealand is one of only two places in the world (along with Burgundy) from which I would voluntarily order a chardonnay. And that's saying something.
Exuberant fruit, of a brighter tone and clearer hue than can be found in some equally-fruity Australian versions, is just the beginning. From the top producers, there’s a wonderful blend of earthiness, minerality, and just-right spicy complexity from careful oak management and even more-careful winemaking that sets these wines apart. The acidity is generally food-friendly and structurally sound. The overwhelming presence of chardonnay on the international market into which New Zealand must interject its little trickle of wine means that these wines remain unnoticed and undervalued vs. their quality level, though I don’t suspect that will last forever.
Riesling - I’m not entirely convinced by New Zealand’s efforts with this grape. There are a few with real passion and potential, but too many are just a semi-steely white wine lacking both the fruit of chardonnay and the greenery of sauvignon blanc, but not replacing them with anything else; sort of a bland citrus rind drink with some drying minerality of a totally anonymous nature. It's not bad at all, but it's not that interesting either. I’m not sure where to place the blame – high yields, bad sites, insufficiently long and slow ripening, bad clones, or bad winemaking – but a variable combination of all of these factors seems the most likely. There doesn’t seem to be one emerging stronghold for riesling, but the evidence suggests that it probably isn’t Marlborough, where an ocean of dull riesling is being produced for reasons that aren't entirely clear to me. The logical alternative might seem to be Central Otago, and yet the best average quality seems to be emerging from Martinborough.
Gewürztraminer - Biases on the table: I don’t think anyone does nearly as well with this grape as Alsace, and I have a preference for dry, crisp, more ageable styles (though I do enjoy off-dry and sweet versions, as long as there’s sufficient balancing acidity).
Simply put, New Zealand is a clear and obvious runner-up in the worldwide gewürztraminer sweepstakes. I didn’t even taste my usual favorite (Montana’s Patutahi “Estate”) on this trip, yet the work being done with this grape – in multiple regions – is really quite outstanding. All the expected powerful aromatics are there, usually coupled with bright acidity. The only widespread failing is that the sweeter versions aren’t yet up to snuff. I expect, however, that this will change over time. This will never be a category-killing export, but the potential to challenge Alsace (for what these wines lack in intensity they make up in food-friendliness) is definitely there.
Other white grapes - I really don’t have the experience to say anything worthwhile about pinot gris, sémillon, viognier, or any of the other white grapes with which people are experimenting in New Zealand. The one viognier I tried had some real quality and potential, which makes me wonder what the grape could do if more widely-planted in New Zealand. I've had some pleasant but unexciting pinot gris. That's pretty much it.
Red grapes
Pinot noir - Quickly becoming the workhorse red grape of large sections of the country, which is almost unheard of given the way cabernet and merlot usually dominate elsewhere. And yes, there are all the expected failures of pinot – underripe, green versions and overeverythinged caricatures of shiraz – given the sheer number of bottlings and level of experimentation with new vineyards, techniques, and winemakers. Amidst all the tumult, however, there’s a boiling potential here that I don’t think is even 10% tapped by the top producers.
The best New Zealand pinots walk a line very much in between the rich fruit of the New World and the earthy complexity of Burgundy. None are exactly timid, and in fact the lightest among quality bottlings would just barely fit into the muscular realm of the heaviest products of the Côte-de-Nuits, yet there is a delicacy to the fruit that clearly opposes the dominant New World paradigm. Put another way: fruit is always the principal characteristic, but a healthy structure is also often there, especially in the more established stars, and the aging potential of these wines grows ever more demonstrable. The pace of plantings can barely keep up with the perceived demand, though the future quality of all these new sites remains very much in question. In any case, if there's going to be a counterpart to sauvignon blanc, pinot noir is unquestionably the leading candidate.
Regionally, there seems to be significant potential in all regions south of Hawke’s Bay, though Marlborough’s tendencies towards industrialization leave few high-quality examples. I have no information on quality pinot north of Martinborough, though I presume it could exist if it can be produced from the hot vineyards of Waipara.
Price-wise, the best pinots of New Zealand are the same non-bargain they are elsewhere, once they hit the export market. $45 (the price of the regular Pegasus Bay pinot noir in one local establishment) gets one a lot of quality alternatives from the New and Old Worlds, though of course prices in New Zealand are much more reasonable. For my tastes, these wines very successfully outclass a large percentage of American pinot, but from a more objective standpoint the choice between New Zealand, Oregon, California, and Burgundy remains largely a stylistic one.
The grapes of Bordeaux - Combined here because they’re often combined in New Zealand, this is not a category with which I had much experience before my trip. What I had tasted, was not often very good: green, medicinal merlot pointlessly sent into the merlot-crazy States just to wrest a few nickels from the frenzy. And the few higher-end blends I’d tasted? More structure, more fruit, more dollars, but no less greenery. I was prepared for the worst.
Did I get it? Well, not really. Yes, there are far too many wines in this category that simply aren’t ripe, though this is an ongoing problem nearly everywhere the grapes of Bordeaux are planted, including Bordeaux. But a lot of effort has been thrown at this problem, and the successes are already manifest, though the grapes in question are undoubtedly much better-suited for the hotter northern climes of the North Island, plus Hawke’s Bay and Waipara. Curiosities of quality exist farther south, but they remain exceptions.
As for the best, they’re very, very good. World-class, without question. And they age, too; better than I’d have ever guessed. Prices are in the usual range, from low-priced (frequently lousy) entry-level wines to cult bruisers with stunning tariffs.
An even bigger surprise, for me, was the back seat cabernet franc takes to malbec as the third blending grape of Bordeaux-style wines, and even its heavy use on its own. No region of New Zealand that makes this sort of wine seems to be without at least a little malbec, and a few wineries take it quite seriously as a varietal wine. What’s the reason for this? No one could tell me, or even speculate sensibly. And yet, it’s clear that there’s something just as special about Kiwi malbec as there is about the Argentinean version. In fact, the Argentineans should watch their backs, because the New Zealand malbecs are – on average – better than what they produce. If they ever find a market, watch out.
Syrah - Right off the bat, the chosen spelling tells you most of what you need to know about this grape in New Zealand. Balance and elegance are the goals for most producers, and in fact Barossa-style goopy monstrosities aren’t even possible in most of the places where syrah is planted. Neither are the wines the unfruited, smoked leather delicacies of the northern Rhône. There’s nothing obviously groundbreaking or unique about the New Zealand syrahs I tasted (which were a tiny, tiny percentage of what’s available), except in their juicy drinkability coupled with the balance and structure of more expensive wines. A grape to watch, though it remains to be seen if anything really unique will come of it.
Other red grapes - The palette of red grapes in New Zealand seems, aside from a producer here or there, pretty limited: the cabernets, merlot, syrah, malbec, pinot noir, pinot meunier, a little petit verdot, pinotage and…what else? Though alternatives exist, they’re in such tiny quantities that they’re virtually insignificant in the greater whole, and I didn’t get to taste them.
Wine styles
Sparkling - The one area where it’s clear that massive improvement will be necessary to compete on the world stage. I tasted at specialists and generalists, and sampled by-the-glass in numerous restaurants, and the bubblies of New Zealand just aren’t getting it done. At best, they’re pleasant in that ham-handed, New World, fruit bomb way. But complexity? You’ll look long and hard, not find much, and frequently find none. I’m not quite sure what the problem is, but work needs to be done.
Rosé - I only tasted a few. There was nothing interesting, but the sample was insufficient.
Off-dry and sweet - In the States, we see trickles of sweet riesling and Sauternes-style wines (most sémillon), many of which are perfectly fine but aspire to nothing better. Better examples exist, however, and the occasionally brilliant sweet chardonnay is a bit of a revelation, given how rarely it is successfully produced anywhere else in the world. Off-dry takes on riesling are, as a rule, better than the dry versions, but only rarely of real interest. This is an area I'd like to explore more fully on subsequent visits.
Regions
I must, of necessity, leave out the regions I didn’t visit. Thus, no reportage on the Northland, Hawke’s Bay or Gisborne. Sorry.
Auckland - Very limited experience here; just a few wines from a small handful of regions. Waiheke Island seems to get a lot of hype, and Stonyridge lives up to it, but I’m not sure the island’s second most famous winery does…and what does that say about the rest of the island? Well, nothing, at least to me, because I haven’t tasted the wines. I only have limited experience with the inland regions surrounding New Zealand's largest city, though Kumeu River seems to be doing an outstanding job with many of the wines from their eponymously-named appellation.
Wairarapa (Martinborough) - With all the caveats about limited experience, etc., I think it’s unquestionable that this is the premiere wine region of New Zealand. The average level of quality is very, very high, and the best wines of this region simply outnumber the best wines of other regions, both per capita and by sheer numbers. While there are never any sureties, especially in something as variable as wine, the Martinborough name is as close to a guarantee of quality as one will find in New Zealand viticulture. The pinot, syrah, and riesling seems to be the most exciting, but quality wines are certainly not limited to those three grapes.
Marlborough - The is a region that both lives up to and withers under its ridiculous hype. Yes, there is obvious (and still, in many ways, thoroughly untapped) potential here. But no, it’s not the Alpha and Omega of New Zealand wine, despite what its international market dominance might suggest. What it mostly does is provide a huge supply of pleasant, drinkable whites for an uncritical audience, leaving some dogs for the unwary and some gems for those who are lucky enough (or well-informed enough) to unearth them. Much more could be done here, but I’m not sure it will be.
Why not? The behemoth wine interests that are gobbling up Marlborough’s grapes. Villa Maria makes much, much better wine that anyone could reasonably expect, and even über-mammoth (by Kiwi standards) Montana produces plenty of very good bottles. But the engine that drives innovation and improvement, except to serve commercial interests, is going to come from smaller producers (whether totally independent or well-funded by outsiders) who need to experiment, not from million-casers who need uniformity and reliability at razor-thin margins. Marlborough is far too young to go corporate, and yet it may already be too late to stem the tide. We’ll see.
Waipara - So limited in my experience, I can’t really say much of use here without resorting to generalities. The biggest danger seems to be the heat, which leads to big, low-acid fruit bombs with a goopy texture and without much actual interest to people who want to drink wine. There are, of course, ways to combat this, but the essential handicap remains. It’s instructive that, of all the wineries I’ve visited all over the world, Pegasus Bay remains the only one whose “top” cuvées are lighter than their regular bottlings.
Central Otago - Come back in a year, and everything will be different. What can I say about a region that isn't even the same as I left it just one year ago? The pace of change is dizzying, and I find it hard to imagine any single wine region supporting this sort of nutty expansion without risking proportional contraction. But I admire the optimism and frontier spirit, and wish them the best. The wines? Occasionally outstanding, sometimes just clumsy; the risk/reward factor is higher in the Central Otago than any other region with which I have experience. Pinot does seem to have a special place here (especially if one’s tastes run towards Burgundy, as these wines are the lightest and most delicate in the country, though they're still not "light" by an objective measure), but the region will have to be about more than just pinot if it is to capture an international audience of any significance, or find a way to make and sell top-quality pinot at an entry-level price. Otherwise, it will always remain a niche fanaticism. Which is fine, but doesn’t support the aforementioned expansion at its current pace.
Food
Goodness. I mean that in both senses of the word. We ate spectacularly well in New Zealand, in places both fancy and ultra-casual. The quality level of raw ingredients was terrific, with the possible exception of a tiny market in ultra-remote Franz Josef, and the cooking at most establishments both competent and inventive. A sort of Pacific Rim/Euro fusion dominates, though there are plenty of regional purists as well, and the use of indigenous materials is the rule rather than the exception. The country’s signature lamb was a bit of a let-down (though less so after it was explained to us that most of the best meat is exported), but venison and an array of tremendous seafood more than made up for it.
The cheese…needs some work.
Perhaps the most surprising thing was the uniform excellence of the coffee. These are people that “get” coffee, and it was a pleasure to not have to always resort to espresso in an effort to wrest some flavor from the end of a meal.
Tourist infrastructure
At the top of this list must go: bathrooms. They’re everywhere, they’re free, they’re modern, they’re clean, and they work. From major throughways to obscure one-lane roads, there are well-maintained public bathrooms everywhere one might wish for them, often far from any other sign of civilization. How do they do this? Do hobbits maintain the more remote establishments?
Right after bathrooms come picnic tables. Too many countries have picnic sites tucked in the least attractive hovels and glades imaginable. New Zealand puts them at the center of one giant country-wide Kodak moment. It can almost be difficult to eat, one gets so enraptured by the scenery. And afterwards, remember, a public bathroom is right around the corner…
As for the roads? Everyone should drive them at least once in their lives. Bring your heart medicine and a steady hand on the wheel. That said, one thing makes the insanity of the more difficult roads tolerable: the politeness of the Kiwis, who will willingly and quickly pull over for faster traffic. Try that in Italy; some shoulder-hugging truck driver will flatten you within five seconds.
And finally, any country that puts an internet café in Franz Josef is OK with me. Think you’ll see one in Chambolle-Musigny or Banyuls-sur-Mer anytime soon?
And with that, I’m finally done. No, really this time. Off to Alsace & California…and back to New Zealand in 2005. I can't wait.