Our Story

Artisanal small batch winemaking at 1000m in the central ranges of NSW. Authentic, onsite and hand made from grapes grown alongside the winery. Pinot Noir and Chardonnay vines planted in 2003 with friends who came for the weekend and slept in our shearing shed. Pinot Noir is said to be a sensitive grape and quite variable according to terroir. We get about 2.5kg of grapes from each vine which makes about 1.5 litres of finished wine.

We bottle on site and deliver direct from the winery to our customers. The big difference between commercial winemakers and shed wine makers is that each vintage we make is different depending on the season, the rainfall and when we choose to harvest.

We have started to introduce complexity by crushing a percentage of whole bunch ferment, which is a 5000 year old human tradition. The oldest evidence is from the Caucasus where the earliest Vinis Vinifera fruit was fermented in large clay pots buried in the ground. Part of the winemaking process is the malo-lactic ferment which turns the malic acid to a softer lactic acid. Our wine is made by minimal intervention now as the winery has lots of wild yeast and the malolactic bacteria. We try to control our SO2 preservative to 30 ppm.

 

The Farmer’s Hat


A farmer’s hat is part of his daily life
sharing his troubles like any good wife.
Without it dogs and horses wonder if it’s him
when his eyes aren’t peering under the brim.


Part of him is there wherever it is sitting
with its eagle feather and crown well fitting.
The Akubra usually hung in the mud room
always dusty, spidery and needing a broom.


Next to his stockwhip and drizabone
the hook with his boots underneath was its home.
The last thing he grabbed as he rushed on his way
and called to his wife his plan for the day.


He reached for the empty space, frozen in time
trying to remember, searching his mind
where had he left it? Perhaps in the shed
next to the charger near the little mouse dead,


or near the cattle marking and drenching stuff,
or the outside dunny full of thistle seed fluff,
with the old magazines and the faded stories,
pictures of Ealsey and Tubby in world cup glory.


He looked near the woodpile on the verandah
making the lizards and spiders scamper,
underneath  the  old canvas squatters chair
where he sat dreaming of having a good year.


Next to the telephone where he kept his list
of farm jobs needing doing, none to be missed.
He looked on the chair near the desk where he sat
and paid his overdue bills, but there was no hat.


Then he saw the note, ‘remember the grapes’,
it was harvest time, with help from his mates.
He disturbed the swallows in the rafters nesting
past the barrels, tanks and equipment for testing,


he saw the open vat ferment was on the go,
and there was a hook with the full vat below.
It was time and he plunged the must with a plank
and guess what he saw floating in the tank.


A hat very purple and now part of the brew
something he couldn’t tell the rest of the crew.
Like last year he found a snake in the mix
and silence was part of the winemakers tricks.


So reunited he is now with his hat in his hand
but shy about the aroma of wine where he stands.
The answer of course is to have hats a many
and no favourite! A kind of hat polygamy.