Thin Skins by Campbell Mattinson

Author:Campbell Mattinson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sterling Epicure
Published: 2011-10-03T16:00:00+00:00

Glaetzer Godolphin Cabernet Shiraz 2004

Mitolo Serpico Cabernet Sauvignon 2005

Mitolo Reiver Shiraz 2005

Majella

They grow bloody good grapes in the heart of the rich red dirt of Coonawarra. They do it in a true Australian way. Majella is Majella.

Brian Lynn of the Majella winery in Coonawarra is not on fire. There’s smoke, though, real smoke, coming out from under the doors. Sparks flying. Alarms ringing. “She’s smokin’ and she’s rattlin’,” the Prof (his nickname) says as he unlocks the front door. “The fire brigade’s ringing. Bruce’s computer’s down. Mine’s down. We’ve got meltdown,” he says. Running.

“Computers …” I say.

“Oh, this is worse. The whole thing …” and he’s on the phone. As he unplugs his printer. The computer. Taps a few keys. Moves some paper. Notices the fax I’ve sent him.

“This you?”

I nod.

“Never heard of you,” he says.

He rolls on. “I go to wine dinners and wine tastings and there are a lot of people who take wine too seriously. All they want to do is talk or write about wine—sometimes I look at them and think: All wine is is fermented grape juice flavored with oak. It’s not rocket science.”

Then, because it’s his favorite line right now, and despite the fact that the alarms are still clanging and there’s still the strong smell of smoke, he adds: “There’s more to life than wine. There’s poetry to read. Food to eat. Women to love.”

“Poetry?”

The Prof stops. “Well, I don’t get to read much poetry.”

“No one does,” I say, then ask him how it is that Majella, who has been growing grapes (but selling most of them) in Coonawarra since 1968, has gone from being a brand-new label in 1991 to, arguably, the most anticipated cabernet release in the Coonawarra calendar—or certainly the one which engenders the most loyalty. In the wine shops and wine forums, at wine dinners and wine clubs, there are times when it feels like Majella mania out there. Rarely a negative word is spoken. Smoking? Alarms? Somebody check the fax machine—these guys are on their own kind of fire.

“Our success is simple: we’re bloody good grape growers. We’ve got a very nice patch of dirt. We’ve spent thirty years learning how to grow the grapes and get them right. And if you talk to the French they’ll tell you that’s 90 percent of what it’s all about. Great grapes. Sympathetic winemaking. That’s all we do. She ain’t hard!”

The sympathetic winemaking is done by Bruce Gregory, a guy who’d called me a few days earlier. “I’ll get the Prof to spend some time with you. He does all the marketing—I’m just a simple winemaker,” he said.

“I’m just a simple journalist,” I replied.

Bruce Gregory, as a winemaker, is self-taught—which partly explains why he’s so good. He’s self-fired. He’s one of these quiet-achieving guys who likes to quietly stick it up the qualified winemakers—and knock their wines off at wine shows. I know this because I’ve tasted the wines—and also because the Prof told me. “Bruce has never told me in

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