Undoubtedly each of the first explorers, colonists and convicts who arrived in Australia remarked on how everything seemed ineffably peculiar. One of the earliest arrivals (1688), Dutchman Dirk Hartog, wrote in his journal that: “The land is cursed; the animals hop not run, birds run not fly and the swans are black not white.” Two more elemental differences that drove colonists and convicts crazy were, the seasons are opposite and the trees lose their bark rather than their leaves.

Then there were the native people who we now call the Aboriginals to add to the colonist’s befuddlement. The arriving whites were amazed to observe that the indigenous population had no concept of ownership, no farms and only rudimentary hunting equipment. When efforts were made to finally learn some of the many Aboriginal dialects colonists were surprised to learn that there was no word in any of them for thank you. (The expression of gratitude was never necessary in a society in which there was no concept of ownership and shared what it had out of a sense of duty rather than munificence or generosity.) This nuance, like many others, was lost on most arriving settlers, among them Englishman William Dampier who said of the native population, “...they are the most miserable people in the world.” Only a few of the journal keeping colonists bothered to record in their accounts of early colonial life that had it not been for these “miserable people” and their intimate knowledge of the land, many settlers would have surely died of exposure, starvation or self-inflicted poisoning.  

The Aboriginals, with their 40,000 years of experience on the continent, had amassed effective solutions to nearly all of the natural difficulties they, and the early settlers, encountered. If ever there has been a people of their land it is them. Whether it was keeping flies out of one’s eyes, ears and nose by wearing a shucked oyster on the brim of one’s hat, or in one’s hair, to finding ample forage in areas that to the uninitiated eye appeared barren, the native people demonstrated repeatedly that they were capable of doing the impossible. Such as setting off on foot into the outback, an act the whites considered a death sentence, only to return in fine health many days, weeks or months later.

The whites were just as dismayed by the local food stuffs that their Aboriginal neighbors ate. Beyond the visibly unappealing witjuti grubs and certain insects eaten by the locals the colonists turned their noses up at many of the native fruits and vegetables. Some diarists described the wild foods as “repulsive,” “dangerous” and “unpalatable.” A 19th century English botanist named J.D. Hooker, author of Flora of Tasmania, wrote that, “...although eatable not much of what grows here is fit to eat."

Until recently a dislike, even a distrust, of native foods, was the norm. For example, the sale of kangaroo meat, a delicious, plentiful, sustainable food source and one that some Aussies still refuse to eat, was legalized nationwide fairly recently in 1993. (There are approximately 40 million kangaroos in Australia, there are 22.1 million people. Kangaroos out number people nearly 2 to 1.) This distrust, however, has begun to erode and what the Aboriginals of old ate to survive has come into vogue with the resurgence of a style of foraging and preparation neatly categorized as “bushtucker.” Basically, bushtucker is food that has grown wild in the outback for centuries and was harvested by observant Aboriginals. Some items regularly found in the New South Wales and Queensland areas, where the the largest concentration of Aboriginal people can be found, are kangaroo apples, a faintly sweet fruit that contains a series of steroids of commercial value as raw material for the manufacture of contraceptives and fruits like  the finger lime, kakadu plum, and the lady apple. Also common are pepperberries, now grown on plantations and used as a spice and in medicine; salt bush, a leafy green that grows in soils with high salinity and has a salty flavor and various wattle seeds from acacia trees that were gathered, ground into flour and made into bread. 
 
As the colonization of Australia spread the decades that followed were tragic for the Aboriginal race. Families were forced to split up and children were taken from their parents and sent to schools where they were encouraged to forget their heritage. Lands, both sacred and profane were appropriated in the name of the Crown. A people whose life cycles were relegated by migration were forced to stay put. To make matters worse new diseases that the natives were not able to resistant took their toll and in less than a century the Aboriginal population, once estimated to be around 750,000 (other estimates place the figure at 315,000) had shrunk by 90%.  

Disease, marginalization and unfair laws designed to deny the native’s basic rights nearly destroyed the Aboriginal culture and until recently it appeared that the knowledge amassed by generations of Aboriginals would be lost.

At the beginning of the 20th century members of the Aboriginal community organized to prevent this from happening. Though their numbers are small (an accurate Aboriginal census figure is difficult to pin down. Some sources say Aboriginals make up 2% of the total population while others claim 6%, which ever figure is accurate it is rare to see Aboriginals in mainstream life) a vocal minority began to force changes in the colonial system and protested to earn native peoples greater freedoms and equal rights. As the system began to evolve all that was left to do was undo the damage 200 years of cultural oppression. 


Two native Australians involved in this are Aunty Beryl Van-Oploo of the Kamilaroi clan and Chef Mathew Cribb of the Waradjuri. Together they run the Yaama Dhiyan Hospitality School in Sydney, Australia. The school opened in 2005 and is based in the Red Fern district of Sydney, a predominantly Aboriginal community. Red Fern, Van-Oploo explains, “...has always been our meeting place for as long as I can remember.” The nine week program is offered four times a year and teaches courses in cooking and hospitality service training with an emphasis on native cuisine and Aboriginal cultural programs. “We open the program to 20 people and then we allow for drop outs,” says Van-Oploo, “If we can graduate 15 or 16 then we’re happy. At the end of the day the focus is to put people in a job. It’s like a stepping stone. It’s been a long time coming for Aboriginal people. The school has got a good feel about it and we’re getting outcomes, that’s the main thing. My three words are communication, education and respect. With those three things and it’ll happen for everybody.”

At the completion of the nine weeks students earn three certificates that will enable them to to find work in the hospitality industry. In the five years of its existence Yamma, which means ‘welcome,’ Dhiyan, which means ‘family’ or ‘friends’ in Aboriginal, have formed relationships with large local companies, among them Qantas, and place 80% of their students in jobs. Many others have gone onto to further their studies in either hospitality or the culinary arts. “It’s been really good,” says Van-Oploo, “some of our students are as young as 15 and I’d rather see them here than be on the streets doing nothing. Then, hopefully I can get them back in school or into a trade. You know, if they go into a trade so be it. A lot of Aboriginal people like doing things with their hands.” 

Australia’s first and only hospitality college specializing in indigenous culture and cuisine has been one of Van-Oploo’s goals since becoming an educator. “This has been a dream of mine for over thirty years,” explains Mrs. Van-Oploo, “it just didn’t happen over night. It’s been about getting out there and having a go and showing that we can do these things. And when you haven’t been given a go, like when I was eighteen I didn’t have any rights and Aboriginal people weren’t allowed to own anything until 1969. If we were given the chance to have our own land and our own collateral then we wouldn’t be in this situation. You don’t forget your past but you move on to make a better future for your children and your grand children.”

On our visit to Yamma Dhiyaan Mathew Cribb cooked us a fabulous kangaroo pie - not quite an Aboriginal recipe but a nice combination of cultures and ingredients. His recipe follows.

Chef Mathew Cribb’s Drunken Kangaroo Pie
If kangaroo meat in unavailable elk makes a wonderful substitute - they both are lean and rich with a faint gaminess. A lean cut of beef would also work but may lack some character.

1/2 onion, diced into 1/2” pieces
1 carrot, diced into 1/2” pieces
2 stalks celery, diced into 1/2” pieces
1.3 pounds (600 grams) kangaroo rump meat, cut into 1/2” pieces
2-12 ounce bottles of ale
2 pints (1 liter) water
pie dough (short crust) enough for top and bottom of standard pie
puff pastry
1 egg
2 tablespoons canola or other oil suitable for high heat
salt & pepper to taste

Heat a stock pot over medium. Add oil and vegetables. Sauté until soft. Add meat and brown on all sides. Deglaze the pot with beer then add water. Cover and simmer for 1 to 1.5 hours or until meat is tender. While meat braises brush a pie dish or cupcake tins with oil then line with pie crust. Season the meat with salt & pepper to taste and allow it to cool thoroughly, then place in prepared dough. Cover with puff pastry. Prepare an egg wash by scrambling egg. Brush egg wash on top puff pastry crust and seal with fingers. Bake at 350°F (180°C) for 45 minutes to 1 hour or until crust is golden brown and flaky. Allow to cool for a few minutes then serve and enjoy immediately.

Contact Information:
Yaama Dhiyaan Hospitality Training College
255 Wilson Street
Darlington, NSW
2008
T: 02 8399 0924

Many of those original land-owning families who made the Barossa Valley into Australia’s preeminent wine region are the same today as they were in the late 1800s. The work that was started by men like Johann Gramp, who created the first commercial winery, Orlando Wines in 1847, continues today in the form of the Jacob’s Creek line — which is owned  by Pernod Ricard. Or Joseph Seppelt whose original vineyard holdings still engulf a large section of the valley and whose organization founded in 1851, now makes wine for the Foster’s Group. William Salter, whose Saltram winery began in 1844, is now also a part of the Foster’s Group portfolio. As is the Wolf Blass product line; though Wolfgang Blass is a relative upstart who established his business in 1966. There are plenty more, like the third and fourth generation grape growers who banded together to form Barossa Valley Estate — which is owned by Constellation Brands. A tiny few, such as Henschke, Bruge and the Smiths of Yalumba (Australia’s oldest family owned winery) remain family owned though this has not made them immune to the urge to expand in the same manner as their corporate competitors.

The biggest changes to the Barossa wine industry began to take place in the 1980s. At the start of the decade a measly 2% of all Aussie wine produced was exported. Then something happened. Australian wine, predominately, Barossa Valley wines, got the attention of the English wine buying market, mostly because it was cheap. As the wine consumer grew more interested in the Aussie product many of the already huge wineries of the Barossa stopped making rot-gut fortified wines and switched to still wines as they expanded to accommodate the increased international demand. During these years several wineries turned themselves over to corporations or bought more land, some of it far from Barossa, and doubled their vine planting. From 1985 to 1999 exports multiplied by 100 times. In 1999 the industry nationwide cracked the AU$3 billion mark in export business. To demonstrate the leap in exports: total US revenue from wine exports in 1999 totaled $548 million. By 2000 Aussie wine was selling at a rate of 300,000 bottles a day in England. Through increased production, corporatization and innovative use of mechanization, like the machine grape harvester and rotary fermenter (a rotating cylinder that shortens ferment times down from around 2-3 weeks to five days) Australia was able to literally flood the market with affordable wines that were pleasing to most palates.

Despite the booms and busts the Barossa has held its global position as the most famous and significant wine region in Australia, though it seems now that it, along the rest of South Australia retains our awe less because of the quality of the wines produced and more from the astronomical amount that pours out. In a good year like 2003-04 about 194 million gallons (733 million liters) of wine were produced keeping South Australia at the top of wine production and exportation in the nation. In 2009 the state shipped out 118 million gallons (448 million liters) worth AU$1.574 billion.³

Through the years of incredible growth there were a handful of Barossa winemakers and vineyard owners who managed to, or just plain refused to, be lured by the quick cash to be gained from taking short cuts and making mostly over-hyped bulk wine. Robert O’Callaghan who founded Rockford Wines is locally regarded as the individual who most assertively bucked the trend. Unlike his larger, more industrialized competitors O’Callaghan opted to stay small and his operation still makes wines by hand using minimal equipment and antique gear, like his wooden stemmer and basket press that date back to the days of the valley’s settlement.

Over time O’Callaghan won converts, built a loyal customer base and helped start the careers of David Powell, who went on to launch Torbreck and Chris Ringland, founder of Three Rivers. Both winemakers are now world renowned and both handcraft wines in the same slow, deliberate manner as O’Callaghan.

Now there is a third wave in the Barossa. Most of this generation have worked for or alongside guys like O’Callaghan, Powell and Ringland. Most have also worked vintages in France, Italy, Spain, South Africa and California. And each has seen enough of the wine industry to aver that wine making comes first. Fraser McKinley, one of the wine makers at the Standish Wine Company and maker of his own Sami-Odi wines said, “Wine making for us is extraordinarily simple. We learned from guys like David Powell, who formed their views from working with Robert at Rockford.” Which means forming solid relationships with grape growers, thoughtful, oftentimes biodynamic, vineyard management, overseeing production from start to finish and making wine that reflects the place.  

Ben Radford, now the chief winemaker at Rockford is one of these new faces on the Barossa scene. He along with his wife Gill, who makes her wines under the Radford label, own some of the oldest vineyards⁴ in the region, if not the world, and work their land bio-dynamically. The couple met in Stellenbosch, South Africa and moved their operation back to Australia firm in their belief that there is more to Australia and the Barossa than just mass produced wine.

Another of the third wave is Dan Standish. He founded the Standish Wine Company in 1999 and like many in this group found that the personal touch makes for better wine. “Each batch is treated differently and separately,” says Standish. “There’s no typical regime. We look at our wines and we taste and the wine tells us when it’s ready.” He  attributes his belief in wines being able to speak for themselves, in part, to Robert O’Callaghan. “He is sort of the godfather of the rebirth of old world winemaking practices in the Barossa Valley. He was the first one to step away from the technical winemaking methods that said, you must add tannin, you must add acid, you must do this and the numbers must add up to this. Now there’s a lot of guys in this valley who are using the old world techniques and it all goes back to Rockford, for sure.”    

Presently, there are producers in the Barossa enduring another bust period brought on mainly by corporate shortsightedness. The major players in the industry have found themselves with a glut of wine producing up to 40 million more cases than they are selling. Analysts report that if the wine industry hopes to operate profitably it will have to cut at least 10% of Australia’s 437,000 acres (177,000 hectares) of vineyard from production — 10% amounts to an area slightly smaller than the state of Rhode Island. At the moment there is no market for what are sometimes referred to as “factory wines” despite appealing to Australian’s patriotic side and pleading with them to “drink local.”

Interestingly, producers like Rockford, for example, who move 70 to 80% of their wine via direct sales through their cellar door/tasting room, suffer from the opposite of a wine glut, selling out vintages regularly. Nationally the demand for better quality is apparent and internationally consumers of Aussie wine have tired of what Brain Croser, former owner of Petaluma wine company calls, “branded commodity wines.” While the big production wineries have seen an overall 6.8% drop in sales “icon” and “super premium” sales remain steady. “Some of us in the Barossa have been quite lucky up to this point,” says Fraser McKinley, “I guess you better touch wood and hope it stays that way.”

Wine tasting with Dan Standish and Fraser McKinely

1. The Silesian immigrants came from what is now part of Poland, Germany and the Czech Republic. Despite exaggerated claims, only about 5% of the newly arrived Silesians to South Australian had emigrated to escape “religious persecution” because of  changes made by Kaiser Fredrick Wilhelm III to the “Old Lutheran” faith. The nation-state of Silesia existed in one form another until after WWII when it was absorbed into Soviet controlled Poland. Today Silesian regions remain however the German speaking population has dwindled due mainly to post-WWII politics.

2. There are still pockets of Barossa Deutsch speakers and at least one German speaking radio station in the Barossa Valley. During WWI and WWII the Australian government discouraged German language use and closed schools that taught lessons in German.  

3. In 1999 South Australia produced nearly half of the nation’s wine output. Today, as a state, SA accounts for 21% of the national output. This is an interesting indicator of just how rapid the growth of the wine industry in other Australian wine regions has been.

4. Some of the oldest vines in the world can be found in South Australia. Given the sandy soils in the valley the region has never been plagued by the phylloxera louse. Some vines are around 120 to 125 years old. The Freedom Shiraz vineyard, planted in 1843 by immigrant Christian Auricht is thought to be the oldest Shiraz vineyard. The vineyard is owned by Langmeil Winery who recently bottled the 164th vintage from this block.

Contact information for wineries mentioned in this story:

Rockford Wine
Krondorf Road
P.O. Box 142
Tanunda, South Australia  5352

Torbreck Wines
P.O. Box 583, Tanunda SA 5352
Lot 51, Roennfeldt Road,
Marananga, SA, 5355

Radford Wines
RSD 355 Eden Valley
South Australia 5235
Australia

Standish Wine Company Pty. Ltd.
P.O. Box 498
Angaston, South Australia
5353
Info@standishwineco.com
or
Massena Vineyards Pty Ltd
P.O. Box 54,
Tanunda SA 5352

Sami-Odi Wines
P.O. Box 280
Grunock, SA 5360

The last genetically pure population of the Ligurian honey bee lives on an island about as far from Italy as a bee, or person, can physically get. Their home is the aptly titled Kangaroo Island, a block of land about the size of Long Island or Puerto Rico that was given its name in 1802 by Matthew Flinders after he and his crew killed 31 ‘roos than made a giant pot of stew. To get to KI one crosses the 12 miles of the Backstairs Passage departing from the shore of Cape Jervis in South Australia. The island has 4,000 human inhabitants, 400,000 sheep, approximately 4 million wallabies and a huge number of Ligurian bees who have found an ideal working place. The climate is similar to their ancestral home in northern Italy, the flora is plentiful and they are totally isolated and thus have remained genetically pure.

The first Ligurian bees to make the 9,500 mile (15,250 kilometer) trek from Europe to the newly formed colony of South Australia were imported by the South Australian Chamber of Manufacturers from Bologna, Italy. Why settlers requested hives, among other necessities such as seeds, plant cuttings and livestock, becomes obvious when one visits the region. It doesn't take a lot of effort to imagine how desolate and cutoff the place must have been ― and in many places, still is. In the early days of the colony the mainly English, German and Italian arrivals were mostly farmers, stockmen and a few were beekeepers. Once on the ground after their many months passage getting a farm, ranch or hive going was more than just the start of earning a living, it was a matter of survival.

The person who brought the first Ligurian bees to Kangaroo Island has been traced by author/beekeeper Peter Barret who credits August Fiebig with establishing the first apiary in 1881. A closer look at the historical records of the time seems to indicate that all of South Australia, not just Kangaroo Island, was crawling with beekeepers. Enough that they had the amassed political clout necessary to have Kangaroo Island declared a bee sanctuary way back in 1885. In so doing they assured the purity of the Ligurian bee strain on the island thus making KI the oldest bee sanctuary in the world.  

A pure strain of any species is rare these days, especially in the bee world in which continental population shifts have meant the crossing of species for centuries. The most famous being the migration of the African bees, also known as “killer” bees. What has made the itinerant African bees so successful is that the queen of an invading African bee colony hatches in 15 days ― a day earlier than all other species of queens. The queen’s first job from the egg is to order the workers to dispatch her rivals still developing in their individual hive cells. This does not mean that the African queens are more ruthless than other types of queen bees. The first hatched queen in any hive rids herself of her unborn competitors.

Having a pure strain of any kind of creature great or small is of enormous importance. As a scientific resource these bees are the genetic benchmark used to measure diversity caused by hybridization. Pure stock also enables beekeepers the ability to re-breed desired qualities back into hives. Incidentally, if you were wondering why the swarm of killer bees slated to sting North America to death never arrived in the frightening numbers forecasted, you can thank South American beekeepers who have bred killer bees with more cooperative varieties to deflate or eradicate their aggressive nature.

One of the most knowledgeable and involved queen bee breeders and beekeepers on Kangaroo Island, and beyond, is Betty McAdam who, along with her husband Jim, operate Hog Bay Apiary. “The queen reflects the hive,” explains Betty, “so if the queen is aggressive so is the hive. The Ligurian bees are known for their docility. It was the reason that they were chosen for introduction onto Kangaroo Island.”

Betty breeds Ligurian queens primarily for her own hives and produces a few to sell. A queen cell can go for anywhere from US$20 up to $500 + postage. To make a queen one needs only a queen-less hive. Instinctively the worker bees know that they must produce a queen so they feed a few egg cells a substance called “royal jelly,” a kind of super food that transforms the occupant of the egg into a potential queen. Betty keeps a hive kitted with a Jenter frame designed to keep queen cells separate. On a good day she can bring in 10 to 20 queen eggs that she later places in queen-less hives or hives whose queens are weak.

Aside from a weak queen there are few threats to the hives of Kangaroo Island other than flood and fire. Fortunately, or because of the purity of the bee stock and the low use of pesticides and fertilizers on the island the Ligurian bees have been spared the colony collapses and stresses that have taken a toll on their North American cousins. “Colony collapse has been recorded to occur every 30 to 50 years,” McAdam explains, “and no one understands why. In America now there are new stresses on hives and management practices that will have to change to keep hives healthy.” Ending the use of “localized pesticides” is one such practice. “These pesticides are in genetically modified seed hulls,” says McAdam, “the seeds germinate, grow, then flower. The pesticide appears in the pollen that is carried by the bees.” In effect the bees are bringing a poison into their hives.

Another benefit of isolation is that the Kangaroo Island bee colonies have never been exposed to other common diseases and bacteria that attack hives. Diseases such as American and European foulbrood bacteria or chalkbrood have so far been kept out due to, first the Ligurian Bee Act of 1885, making KI a sanctuary and the Apiaries Act of 1931 that allowed for the inspection and confiscation of any potentially infected vessel or apparatus heading to the island. These regulations and generations-long attention on the part of the island beekeepers have kept the strain disease free.

Proof of the significance of this can be found in the role the Ligurian Bees are now playing in combating two types of disease. First, research is being conducted on the KI bees to help scientist protect the rest of the world’s honey bee population, the second is in the battle against cancer.

For 40 years the aforementioned Foulbrood diseases that have hit hives in the US, Canada and Argentina have been treated with the antibiotic tetracycline. At the same time there has been an increase in genetically modified crops. In a recent proposal McAdam presented to Slow Food as the secretary of the Kangaroo Island Bee Keepers Association she wrote: “With the increase of GM crops and the identification of genetic material from GM canola crops positively identified in bacteria found in the guts of honeybees, the importance of maintaining a pure genetic strain of bee becomes obvious. ...hive resistance to tetracycline in America and Argentina could be the result of the widespread and recent cultivation of GM crops containing tetracycline resistant genes. While this theory is still only speculative, a resource such as the supply of honeybees on Kangaroo Island could have much greater significance than ever imagined.”

The other area in which the Ligurian Bee of KI is creating a buzz is in cancer research. All hives produce an antibacterial substance called propolis. The bees use it to do everything from plugging holes to keeping the hive sterile by enclosing any harmful substance. In those instances when another insect or even a mouse enters the hive, the stung-to-death intruder is covered in a layer of propolis to prevent the spread of disease as the carcass decomposes. In beekeeping propolis is collected on slated mats kept on top of the hive. The propolis coated mats are gathered at the time the beekeepers collects the honey, frozen then scraped clean. Most of the propolis produced on KI is sent to Japan however samples are now being sent to the University of Sydney pharmacy faculty for analyzation. Early research results show that propolis taken from the hives of KI is high in Resveratrol, the mysterious “French Paradox Medicine.” Resveratrol is a naturally occurring stilbene that is an effective antioxidant, anti-inflammatory and has been effective in the treatment of tumors. Additionally, the presence of tetrahydroxystilbene has been found in KI propolis and only in KI propolis. This is significant because the tetrahydroxystilbene in conjunction with Resveratrol is so far unique in all of nature. Could this combination be the wonder drug?

Of course, the hardworking Ligurian Bees of Kangaroo Island have no idea of their uniqueness or of their enormous potential for good. Like all creatures they move through their life cycles concerned only with survival and keeping their communities healthy and alive.

Native Food & Wine dons bee suits and visits the hives of Betty McAdam of the Hog Bay Apiary. Get a close look at the secret lives of the rare Ligurian bees in this video.

Read about the Slow Food Ark of Taste listing of Kangaroo Island honey here.



A man who farms a portion of this unique earth is Ron Laughton, owner and winemaker of Jasper Hill. As the son of a Heathcote farmer Laughton was well-acquainted with the geological differences in the soils even after his years away when, like many young Australians, he went to London. By his own admission he sampled some of the local product, mainly French wines, and he, “...came back a bit of a smart ass.” After a few different jobs in various professions, among them, a food scientist at Kraft Foods where he worked on formulations of that quintessential Aussie treat, Vegamite, Laughton returned to Heathcote to begin the search for that patch of perfect vineyard land. All that he modestly required was deep Cambrian soil that would not require any irrigation. He was sure that, “..after being in Europe and trying European wines I knew that I wanted to make wines of great elegance in Australia.”

The ideal property was purchased from a bulldozer driver named Bruno Pangrazio who had planted some vines for personal winemaking reasons prior to Laughton’s arrival. Not long after planting Pangrazio decided to sell and in 1975 one man’s hobby-turned-chore became another man’s golden opportunity. Laughton bought the 90 acres and immediately went to work repairing the planted block now known as Emily’s Paddock, (named after his winemaker daughter and successor) and planting the entire Georgia’s (his other daughter) Paddock vineyard block with a single clone Shiraz that came from Penfolds. “I’ve always been enamored with Shiraz,” Laughton explained, “and it grows so well here. From the beginning I wanted to make wine that allowed the Shiraz grape to express itself and express the place from which it came.”

To do this Laughton says he does, “Nothing. Or as close to nothing as possible. Essentially I’m lazy.”

This hands off wine making method is not new but it is unique. What is now being stylishly referred to as low- or even non-interventionist winemaking was the way wine had been made for all the centuries leading up to the industrial revolution; an event that loosely coincides with the time of the Phylloxera Plague (1875-1889) that killed off 90% of Europe’s vines. Protecting an industry and maximizing yields became the rule of the day and as these strides toward greater protection and profitability have grown wider so has the relationship between the wine, the winemaker, the grapes, the land. The radical extreme of all this has lead to large parts of the wine industry being owned by conglomerates. I’m not wishing to overstate this but, it is undeniable that a large part of the mystique concerning wine and winemaking has been lost as board members increasingly become the decision-makers in a business that is best run by local farmers and small-scale winemakers.

Which is why guys like Laughton and others like him are so intriguing. Whether one labels Laughton and those who share his point of view visionaries or traditionalists matters little, what does is that he and other low-interventionists such as his friend Michel Chapoutier,* or Gérard Gauby of Domaine Gauby in Rousillion, France or Dr. Joachim Heger of Wienhaus Joachim Heger in Baden, Germany, have taken the “linear” or “holistic” path toward wine. “I make wine to maximize place and to do this I minimize my touch,” Laughton explains. “It’s really very simple science. Whenever you put ‘energy’ into something, or every time you touch it, or move it, manipulate it, etcetera, you change its composition. Something gets altered or lost. I do as little as possible so as to get out as much as nature has put into it.”

Making wine without doing anything is hard work. It can be technically difficult and if not properly executed, risky. Starting with plant basics, Laughton has always dry farmed. In hot, dry Australia this is rare, some might say foolish. He points out that, “Every member of the plant kingdom evolved without a man dumping a bucket of water on it and from the beginning I have not irrigated and my vines are now drought tolerant.” His vines are also on French rootstock, or have not been grafted onto phylloxera resistant American rootstock. A bit of a gamble in light of the revelation that the phylloxera louse ravaged the vineyards of Victoria in the 1870’s and that Victoria remains the Australian capital of the PIZ (Phylloxera Infested Zone). Here the sandiness of the Cambrian soil prevents the louse from thriving. In all other aspects of vineyard management Laughton relies entirely on his senses, right down to determining grape ripeness by taste. When to prune and harvest is done by consulting the same lunar calendar used in Biodynamic farming; a method of operating Laughton chooses to implement for scientific reasons rather than the somewhat spiritual ones sometimes associated with the movement. “Biodynamic is a way that I can recreate and replace in the soil what has been removed without adding chemical fertilizers. I use the organisms that make the soil and keep the soil alive and healthy. These organisms are part of the terroir.” 

In the winery he uses sulphur sparingly and relies on the wild yeasts to get the juice through the ferment. “The yeasts on the grapes are part of the vineyard, to kill them just before crush makes no sense. Nature put them there for a reason.” Laughton allows for lengthy macerations and fermentations— in some vintages so lengthy that other winemakers would flinch. He uses gravity to move the fluid during racking and barreling and he may be one of the last people in Australia to use real cork stoppers. “Screwtops are bloody cheap and I will not have my wine in contact with plastic. I don’t like that.”

The results of this seemingly wild, wooly and laissez-faire approach have been magnificent making Jasper Hill one of the most sought after wines in Australia and coveted by collector’s worldwide. Each vintage, even the 1987 when bush fires threatened the vineyards and the hard drought years of ‘83 and ‘95, have been judged “Outstanding” by Langton’s, the arbiters of quality in Australian wine and first specialist auction house in the country.  

The wines are full of character and are notably different from vintage to vintage and from paddock to paddock. In a side-by-side barrel tasting of the 2008 Emily’s Paddock and the 2008 Georgia’s Paddock (the vineyards are less then a kilometer apart and both wines were harvested at the same time and handled more or less identically) the wines were markedly different. The Emily’s Paddock was austere, firmer, more “Old World” while the Georgia’s Paddock was heavier, with lush, rich fruit. After the tasting analysis Laughton said, “See. Terroir exists.”

Laughton is a firm believer in the notion of terroir and his reliance on Biodynamic vineyard management and winemaking style reflects just how committed he is to the concept. In all aspects of the process his point of view remains unchanged. “Don’t fiddle with it,” says Laughton. “If you have to fiddle with it, you’re in the wrong place.”

In this video Ron talks about the yeast and terroir.

*Ron Laughton & Michel Chapoutier have teamed up to make Agly Brothers wines in the Corbieres region of southern France. Visit www.vinopedia.com to purchase Agly Brothers wines.

Contact:
Jasper Hill
PO Box 110
Heathcote, Victoria 3523

Winery:
88 Drummonds Lane
Heathcote, Victoria 3523
Visits are by appointment only— no cellar door

Jasper Hill wines are available in the US from
Old Bridge Cellars in Napa, California
T: 1-707-258-9552
E-mail: info@oldbridgecellars.com
    

The on-ongoing legal disgruntlements seem to have done harm to the Coonawarra reputation within Australia — though you won’t read about it in the national wine magazines. Beyond The Cigar, respect for the area has waned. Two winemakers in Barossa who wished to remain anonymous both opined that the legal wrangling has distracted growers and wine makers from the real task and that is making the quality wine the region is capable of producing. “With all due respect to our colleagues in the Coonawarra, all they do is bicker when no one else really cares. It’s killing them,” said one of the wine makers. To add to the turmoil a new region that intersects or skirts the Geographical Indications now called Coonawarra has been added, delineated and disputed. The new region is called Penola and includes some vineyards who are happy to be within the newly drawn boundaries and has other vineyard owners seeing red. What’s irritating to the members of the Penola and Coonawarra GIs is that neither side asked for the new sub division. There is much more to this but, as stated, the tale of the legal fight is a long, sort of dull story. Check back in four of five generations to see how it all turns out.

There is great value to be gained by being within the boundaries of the Coonawarra — wherever they are. Along with the price boosting word Coonawarra on the wine label there is the positive of growing grapes in the terra rossa soil. This kind of dirt is visibly different. Given its reddish-orange color one would be quick to think it is iron-rich but it is not. The topsoil is layers of subplastic clay (earth that grows more firm when kneaded and neither expands nor contracts when moist) and friable loam that has come to rest atop a layer of soft limestone. The mineral rich topsoil and the fast draining limestone are ideal for red wine grapes. Thus the preponderance of Cabernet Sauvignon in the area.

Another advantage the Coonawarra possess is its proximity to the ocean. The land is a short 37 miles (60 kilometres) inland. The climate is a maritime one with dry, cooler — relative to other parts of Australia — summers. There is a periodic, major disadvantage to the maritime climate and that is spring frosts. The 2007 frosts wiped out up to 80% of some wineries crops. The frosts, however, are rare, and the Coonawarra remains a singularly perfect red wine growing location.

So, can you taste the difference? There is an apparent and distinct flavor profile of the many Coonawarra Cabernet Sauvignons. Generally, they possess a noticeable softness, regardless of the vintage, while maintaing a fine structure. There are definite tannins present but Cabs of the Coonawarra are usually less astringent or biting than many warm climate, young Cabernets.

While courts grapple with dimension, boundary or shape and locals come up with more nicknames for the area there is the no disputing the real meaning of Coonawarra. It comes from the Aboriginal word that means Honeysuckle Rise. It is the name the indigenous people applied to the land in a simpler time when wild honeysuckle groves filled the region and whose fragrant descendants can still be found on the grounds of some of the disputed vineyards today.

If you go…

Coonawarra is one of those convenient wine tasting regions. The wineries are close together, nearly all have decent “cellar doors” or tasting rooms and when one has had enough or needs to grab a bite there is Fodder located pretty much smack dab in the middle of it all. Owners Melissa and John Innes have brought a little bit of old Italy to Australia. They are famous for their thin crust pizzas and a great wine list of high quality local wines. Spring and fall are the best times to visit as summertime temperatures can be unbearably hot. 2-3 days is good amount of time to spend.

The following wineries are notable and some can be sourced from Vinopedia.com.

Raidis Estate
Katnook Estate
Petaluma
Zema Estate
Leconfield Coonawarra
Rymill Coonawarra

For centuries the coastline along the length of the southern rim of Australia has been the site of shipwrecks too numerous to count, a place of toppling rock towers where chunks of cliff as big as icebergs erode and drop into the sea. Along these shores of the Great Southern Ocean it isn’t uncommon to experience winds of up to 48 knots / 55 miles / 88 kilometers per hour and observe waves 16 feet / 5 meters tall pounding the shores.

Despite the harshness of the winds and the roughness of the water people have been settling along this stunning coastline for thousands of years, starting with the Aboriginals of the Wathaurong and Gadabanud tribes who harvested the land and ocean with a level of understanding and efficiency that still astounds. In the 1800s white settlers arrived and less than kindly drove the indigenous people out. In their place they built fishing villages, set up cattle and sheep stations (ranches) and began to work the soil. Inhabitants of these truly isolated townships literally lived on the fringes of civilization and had few options when it came to travel or taking their goods to markets farther than the next village.

In the 1870s a group of farsighted businessmen sought to remedy the situation and proposed that a road be built. Surveying for the 250 mile / 400 kilometer road was expected to take three months and began in earnest in 1918 with a labor force comprised almost entirely of soldiers just back from the trenches of World War I. By March of 1919 only ten miles had been marked out.

Workers, or “diggers” as they came to be known, of the lanes that are now the Great Ocean Road used mostly pick axes, shovels, some dynamite and their bare hands to build the road. Overall, working conditions were not too awful. Pay was decent and accommodation was provided. Supplies were fairly steady and natural sources of food were plentiful and the workmen were encouraged to hunt and fish for their dinners. There were also lots of opportunities for the “diggers” to enjoy their leisure time. An especially long break was taken in 1924 when a steamer called the Casino ran aground on a reef. Hoping to lighten the ship enough to float free the ship’s captain ordered that the cargo be tossed. In this instance the cargo included 500 barrels of beer and 120 cases of hard liquor. The diggers found the castoff cargo and had a party that lasted two weeks.

With the road officially finished in 1932 moving goods was possible and farming became a viable profession for many in the area.

Inland and along the water the region serviced by the Great Ocean Road has become one of Australia’s better culinary destinations. Each of the oceanside villages has its own array of restaurants, delis and bakeries offering great local food. Numerous fisherman co-ops dot the coast. Heading away from the water there are dairies making some of Australia’s best cheeses. There are orchards and berry patches a few miles from the town of Lorne where you can pick your own fruit then have a cup of tea and chat with your fellow fruitiers.

If one is heading west the acknowledged start of the road is the town of Geelong, though visually it feels more like the town of Torquay, one of Australia’s best surf spots, is the starting point. From here to the Otway National Park the road stays along the coast where desolate beaches await and where one can venture far from shore at low-tide to harvest limpets, or lampas as they are known in Spanish. These hump-shaped gastropods are often used as fishing bait but along the shores of the Mediterranean they are used in stews or simply grilled. Of course there are other shellfish to be had such as mussels and oysters, many that are growing wild along the shore or are aquafarmed in numerous harbors. Cuttlefish, crayfish— the local kind of lobster— and gummy shark also known as flake, are also plentiful. For freshwater options there are yabbis (is it a really big prawn or a fairly small lobster?) and maron that are caught in the various estuaries.

Just beyond the half way point of the drive is the quiet village Port Campbell— the stay-over point for the most famous, and rightly so, section of the Great Ocean Road, the 12 Apostles. The number of these 147 foot / 45 meter tall towers of limestone, has now dropped to eight with the most recent tower collapse in 2005. Formerly known as the Sow and Piglets the towers were later given a more pious sounding name based on the local belief that more people would come to see a sight with a religious sounding name as opposed to a more earthy moniker. Whatever the name the stone piles are spectacular and worth visiting at different hours of different days to see how the light shifts on the formations. Between visits one can drive inland to the Wine and Vistas Loop, a 71 mile / 115 kilometer drive that goes toward the town of Timboon and passes the famous Apostle Whey Cheese Factory. Regardless of whether you take the Loop route, a visit to the cheese shop is worth the time for their camembert and brie. Tastings are free but it’s polite to buy if you try.

Also near Port Campbell are other costal stops equally as stunning as the 12 Apostles, among them Loch Ard, Bay of Islands, Gibson Steps, The Grotto and London Arch.

The Great Ocean Road officially ends at the town of Warrnambool. The section that continues becomes the Costal Explorer’s Way. This less storied section of road moves through Port Fairy, an active fishing village where one can charter boats for private fishing excursions or grab a pint at one of the many old-time pubs, and then on to the less picturesque Portland Bay. From here the roads head inland and north toward Lake Alexendria and the mouth of the Murray River. At this junction an entirely new culinary drive begins. 

December in much of central and eastern Europe is the time of the Weihnachtsmarkts. Stalls full of Christmas regalia fill the town squares of hundreds of cities from Innsbruck to Kiel. Also known as Christkindlmarkts, these Christmas Markets have been going for centuries with the two of oldest being the Bautzen market started in 1384 and the Vienna “December Market” founded in 1294.

The aromas of these markets are deliriously wonderful. Floating in the cold winter air are the smells of hot chestnuts called heisse maroni, evergreen wreaths, and nativity characters carved out of cedar. The smoke from smoldering pine and fire-curled fir needles is carried on chilly gusts scented with cinnamon, nutmeg and allspice. The succulent scent of roasting chickens, the rich fragrance of cocoa powder on chocolates, the bright notes of sliced orange covered in layers of sugar, even the barnyardy smell of work-hot sleigh horses add a pleasant component to the mix.

Nightly people mill about the markets and chat and laugh and sip on steaming cups of Gluhwein mostly heedless to the bursts of jangling bells and frightening shrieks of children as the charging and roaring Grampus swings at the legs of any little one in his way with a switch (a thin oak branch).

Certainly, the sudden appearance of a sooty-faced creature that is part goat, part yak, part man and all crazed demon, running about the square swatting kids is pretty weird. To the uninitiated the arrival of the Grampus, or sometimes packs of these creatures, is more than just alarming. It’s the sort of bizarre event that causes one to look for a cop or forces them to think they might have to take matters into their own hands and tackle the freak in the devil get up themselves. But before the inner tension bubbles over another costumed man appears, this one being dressed up in the garb of a bishop with the long white beard like Santa Claus, carrying a staff and a big sack full of treats that he hands to the kids who just had the joy of the season whacked out of them.

The Grampus/St. Nick show that takes place in many of the Weihnachtsmarkts on the night of December 5-6, or the feast day of St. Nicholas, is ancient — really ancient. It goes back to the twilight of the idols in the German speaking world and its ideological source is the age old conflict of naughty vs. nice. In volume II of Teutonic Mythology (1882) by Jakob Grimm, one half of the famous brothers who brought to light such classics as Little Red Riding Hood and the Pied Piper of Hamelin, Grimm discusses that in the mind’s of our ancestors there could be no good without bad. Therefore, prior to the arrival of gifts and blessings there must be some malevolence to make the good that much better. To these ancient “heathens,” to use Grimm’s quaint word, life was always a matter of good versus evil, light against dark. This world view was so prevalent that our ancestors aligned their festivals and feasts to fall on the days or weeks of celestial changes we know now as the solstice and the equinox or the return of longer hours of daylight, the return of warmth, the time to reap and the time to sow.

Another ancient element found in the markets is the dispensing of Gluhwein or glug. This much loved holiday drink dates back to the days of Grimm’s “heathens.” Like the Grampus/St. Nicholas parable our oldest Christmas drinks have symbolic meanings of their own. To understand what they represent and their origins it is best not to try and work backwards through shifts in populations and blendings of cultures but to follow the trail of culinary crumbs our ancestors have left for us.

The greatest of our holiday drinks is, of course, Hippocras. Never heard of it? How about some its variants? Hippocrass, Ypocrasse, Ypocras, Hypocras, Hyppocras, Ipocras, Ippocras. Still no? This drink is the progenitor of all the beverages we drink in December to make the season bright. From this ancient mixture we get: Gluhwein, also known as Glug, Glogg, Vin Chaud, Mulled Wine, Wassail, Waes Haeil and Negus, to name a few. Also sprouting from this linguistic/culinary branch we also get Syllabub or Nog, as in egg nog, nog and grog, nog’n’grog, Eierpunsch, Rompope, Advocaat, Coquito, Auld Man’s Milk, Kogel Mogel, Sack Posset, fig sue and perhaps the distant Japanese cousin Tamagosake (a mixture of egg, sugar and sake drunk to cure hangovers.)

In one form or another people have been drinking this mixture of wine, herbs and honey since the days of the Greeks. It is said to have taken its name from the father of medicine, Hippocrates who made remedies using wine as the base, herbs as the healing or restorative ingredients and honey to make it palatable. Another assertation is the drink gets its name from the Hippocratic Sleeve, a piece of cloth that was used in the same way one would use a strainer to get the herbs and debris from the steeped fluid. To make the Hippocras in the manner it would have been made at the height of its fame you would take cinnamon, ginger a “penny’s worth” of spikenard of Spain (Spanish lavender), add some galangal, cloves, pepper and nutmeg, marjoram and cardamom, grains of paradise and cinnamon flower. Mash these into a powder then add to wine and honey. (Loosely adapted from a recipe in the Forme of Cury 1390.) For a few hundred years the Hippocras may have been the only call drink in the Western world.

The deeper significance of the Hippocras and the glugs that it became can be understood by knowing when and why they were made and consumed. Why they were made can be succinctly expressed: people used alcohol as a way to relieve themselves of some of the pressure of life. Let’s face it, life was hard back then and the little bit of relief a drink of wine offered was transcendental. When the drinks were made usually corresponded with an event, like after the harvest or near the time of the coming winter solstice. To celebrate people would make drinks using the fruit from their orchards. A glass would be poured and people would set out at night on foot to pay their respects to the trees or vines who gave them the fruit in their glass. A toast would be made or a song would be sung to honor the tree and ask that its leaves return in the spring. The practice was carried over to people and the various toasts were condensed to the expression, “Waes Haeil,” or to good health, which became wassail, which became not just a toast but an activity (caroling) and ultimately another name for the drink.  

Entering the full-blown Christian era and the absorption or suppression of all things pagan the Hippocras morphs into more than just Gluhweins and glugs but into possets— Sherry based drinks, and the Negus. Readers of Charlotte Brontë will recognize the Negus as one of the beverages served at the many dances that take place in the novel Jane Eyre. The drink was not a fictional liquid dance lesson dreamed up by the writer but a genuine beverage named after Colonel Francis Negus (d. 1732) who substituted Port for red wine in his punch. While each of these variations takes on a meaning and origin of its own glugs were drunk regularly at all manner of occasions. Their raison d’etre was manifold but the main one was safety. Water was dirty and dangerous and wines were usually pretty rustic. So, quantities of wine and water were poured into pots and heated with fruit and spices with the belief that the heat and alcohol would kill whatever lived in the water and the water and the other ingredients would make the wine palatable.

These more elaborate versions of the Hippocras-turned-glugs were later made using cream and eggs to lend greater richness and make the drinks relatively nutritious. How they came to be called nogs is a another one of those matters of opinion. Some hold that the name comes from Vice-Admiral Edward Vernon who was called “Old Grog” by his sailors because he wore a waterproof boat cloak made of grogam— a thick material made of silk, mohair, and wool. Vernon petitioned on behalf of all sailors to make rum a part of their rations. In 1740, the Royal Navy relented. Soon the the rum ration was given the honorific name, grog and the egg and grog was coined (which later was shortened to egg’n’grog which likely became egg nog). Another version of the naming of this mixture of wine, spirits, eggs and sugar has to do with the wooden cup it was served in called a “noggin.” (The slang word “noggin” for head comes from the visual similarities between the carved cup and a skull.)

Today, serving glug and eggnog is mostly done during the holidays and is often enjoyed with the relish one feels knowing that this flavor comes but once a year— like the Grampus and St. Nick. Whether you enjoy a glug or a nog, take a moment to sing a little wassail to your ancestors whose efforts, knowledge learned and lost, and maybe even their best wishes, are contained in that holiday cup.

Enjoy these holiday drink recipes:
 
The Italian Apple Cocktail
Mulled Wine
Hot Buttered Rum
Caribbean Christmas Punch

Stepping into the spacious barns the Hill Foot Farm Pekin ducks call home one immediately notices that the fences are only knee-high. Anticipating the question manager and owner Peter Mitchell says, “They can’t fly. The Chinese bred flight out of them about 3,000 years ago and their body mass is too great to allow them to get off the ground any higher than that fence.” He looks at the ridiculously low barrier and laughs. “Why would they want to leave? Everything they need is taken care of.”

“They’ve got a good life here,” says Peter’s wife and business partner Katie, “The females eat and lay eggs, the males eat and bonk.”
 
And bonk they do. The 2,500 Hill Foot Farm ducks average about 950 eggs a day and to do that they need to mate with great regularity. At 26 weeks a duck is mature enough to reproduce and given the right conditions will continue laying for about 40 weeks. To attain this a systematic rotation takes place on the farm in which groups of females are cycled through groups of males to keep egg production going. The ratio of female to male ducks in a reasonably sized operation is usually 6 to 1. (Presently, the Hill Foot Farm ratio is 4 to 1.) In the spring and summer, the most fertile times, the ducks will produce about 1,200 eggs a day. That number then dwindles to about 700 a day in the fall and winter. Why? The reproductive cycle of a duck, like most other birds, is contingent on the amount of daylight hours in a given day which changes seasonally.

Most birds molt twice a year, spring and fall. In the spring males produce the brighter plumage needed to attract a mate and both sexes grow a new set of healthy feathers to fly and protect their offspring. In the fall these feathers are worn out so they are molted again, by the time the next batch grows in the bird has a strong, new set to carry them on a long, migratory flight. As they would in the wild, domesticated ducks move through the same weight gain and loss cycles they would have if they had remained migratory birds. In the fall molting season a bird will lose approximately a quarter of their body mass. For domesticated birds the fall molt greatly reduces the number of eggs they can lay. 

Katie and a few other employees gather all the eggs each morning. Usually by noon or sooner Peter has examined each egg, graded them, placed them in palettes, then begins the process of filling orders. Along with the raising of the ducks and the sorting of the eggs he is the farm’s sales team and delivery person. The majority of his eggs go to the Chinese and Indian markets and restaurants in the greater Auckland area. “I used to sell at the Matakana Farmers’ Market but stopped awhile ago,” says Mitchell, “I enjoyed the market. It was great taking the piss out of the city people.”

While the duck egg hasn’t entirely captured the hearts and minds of hungry Anglos with the same thoroughness as the chicken egg, there is a great market for the Mitchell’s duck eggs. “Duck and duck eggs are a long standing part of Asian food and culture,” says Mitchell, “it goes back centuries. It’s interesting too that each race likes a particular kind of duck. The Chinese like younger ducks, under 49 days old. After that the pin feathers come in and they’re more difficult to clean and prepare. The Indians like their duck older. Don’t now why, they just do.”

The Mitchells have been in the business of raising ducks for seven years. Prior to that they worked in England, where Katie is from, in various farm related occupations. To supplement their income they sell the composted duck waste. “There’s nothing sweeter then selling s**t,” smiles Peter, adding that “this stuff,” the manure mixed with wood shavings they make on-site, “is the best thing for gardens. Chicken s**t is too strong. Strong smelling and it’s dirty, full of ammonia. Our compost is all organic and full of beneficial nitrogen and bacteria. We only use probiotics on our flock so the waste is ‘cleaner.’”

They also keep sheep and horses and allow a friend’s Highland Cows to graze their land. “Highlands are great for the place,” explains Peter. “They eat the coarse grasses that none of the other animals will eat. They keep things tidy.”

As anyone who raises livestock knows it is an endless occupation. “We’re here every day of the year,” says Katie, “we’d love to take a vacation.”

“Yeah, do a bit of fishing,” smiles Peter, then adds, “but we’re happy to be with them.”

It’s clear that the Mitchells are as dedicated to their ducks as the ducks are to them. 

Duck eggs vs. Chicken eggs
Preparing duck eggs is in most cases no different than preparing chicken eggs and all the same rules of safe handling apply. Nutritionally a duck egg is significantly higher in vitamins and minerals than a chicken egg. Of course, a duck egg is almost double the size of a chicken egg but the values of vitamin A and B12 are 3 and 5 times greater in the egg of a duck. The yolk of a duck egg is higher in fat than that of a chicken egg and the white is more clear and dense. When fried or scrambled duck eggs are brighter in color and taste richer and when used to make pastries and pastas, as they are by some families in France, the noodles are much more yellow and pleasing to the eye. In Asia, especially China, duck eggs are much more highly valued than chicken eggs and are used frequently in many dishes. The most interesting is the Century Egg or the 1,000 year egg. (We filmed ourselves opening and eating a century egg, click here to view.)

For more information contact:
Peter & Katie Mitchell
Hill Foot Farm -- Mahurangi Duck
603 Old Woodcocks Road
RD 1, Warkworth 0981
New Zealand
09 422 5042

In the United States you can find duck eggs locally by visiting Local Harvest and doing a key word search.

In New Zealand there are three kinds of kiwis. First, there are Kiwis, the people of New Zealand identifiable in print by the use of the upper case K. Second is the fuzzy, endangered, flightless bird. Third, the fuzzy, not at all endangered, flightless fruit.

Linguistically, the use of the word kiwi for the fruit is the youngest though the fruit itself is ancient. Chinese in origin, the Yang-tao or Pinyin (literal translation: “strange fruit”) grows wild and is cultivated in the Zhejiang Province in forests and orchards along the Yangtze River. In China the fruit tends to be larger and less uniformly shaped than the cultivar most of us know, the Hayward.

The fruit arrived in New Zealand in the early part of the 1900s. Seeds were brought by the headmistress of the Wanganui Girl’s College, Mary Isabel Fraser who was said to have enjoyed many a kiwifruit when visiting schools in China. Some of those seeds arrived in the hands of local farmer Alexander Allison who brought in the first crop in 1910.

For a long time there were only a few Chinese gooseberry growers in New Zealand and it took until the 1940s for the fruit to gain a large enough fan-base to warrant large scale planting. In 1952 the first sizable shipment of kiwis left New Zealand for England. By the middle ‘50s demand for exotic fruits had increased enough that the Americans decided to get in on the action and kiwi orchards were planted in California. Again the Chinese gooseberry changed names and was briefly known as the melonette. In 1959 melonette growers were forced to tackle an unusual semantic problem. Melons and berries were subject to higher import trade tariffs worldwide and though their product was neither melon or berry their ‘strange fruit’ was thought to be both by customs officials. To be rid of the confusion and avoid the excess charges producers had to come up with a new name. In a fit of “Shaky Island” inspiration kiwi plantation owner Jack Turner threw out the Maori word kiwi (as in the indigenous bird) at a growers conference held in Auckland and the name stuck.

 
Kiwi plants are deciduous trees that require the specific kinds of growing and climactic conditions that occur naturally in New Zealand. Though they are hearty enough to endure frosts and need mild winters to go dormant, extreme drops in temperature will do the plants in. To bear ripe fruit they need at least 240 days of moderate sunshine, a lot of moisture and soils with a high pH. (pH levels between 5 and 6.8 are ideal.) High pH soils are oftentimes volcanic. In the case of New Zealand, a nation that, geologically speaking, rests on some of the world’s more juvenile dirt, the land is made of volcanic soils 4,000 to 40,000 years old. Some of the largest of these deposits are found on the North Island around the Bay of Plenty where about 80% of New Zealand’s total kiwi crop is grown.

Despite the nation’s push to be perceived as the kiwi capitol of the world they are not. The title of biggest kiwi grower goes to Italy where 26% of the world’s kiwis come from, followed by China (25%), then New Zealand (21%). A peculiarity of the kiwi market is that the Italians sell the majority of their product in China, the Chinese sell most of their kiwis in northern Europe and the majority New Zealand kiwis go to Japan, Spain and the Netherlands. (Around 7% of New Zealand kiwis exported go to Italy!) Some kiwis will travel on average 11,242 km / 6,986 mi from their country of origin.

Though New Zealand isn’t the largest producer there are practices that set the Kiwi kiwi industry apart. The main one being that New Zealand growers are banded together under a unified marketing organization/partnership that is 100% grower owned called Zespri. The organization has been around in one form or another since kiwis were planted in 1904. Today there are 3,077 orchards registered to 2,754 Zespri growers in New Zealand. The organization represents another 2,000 growers outside of the country. Gerry Piper, who raises Golden Kiwifruit in Kerikeri, is a stakeholder in Zespri. He explained that, “Because of Zespri, New Zealand produces much better quality kiwis, and unlike any other item of produce sold anywhere in the world, the fruit is guaranteed by Zespri.” To do this, “Every piece of Zespri kiwifruit sold globally can be identified and tracked back according to grower and packing house origin.” Another difference is the quality control system in which every kiwi is hand-selected at packing houses around the country before being exported. (Annually 10% to 12% of the fruit harvested is damaged or deemed inferior and is sold to juice manufacturers and the livestock industry.)

In New Zealand, Zespri and the kiwifruit growers have a lot of clout. Kiwifruit is a NZ$3 billion / US$2.2 billion a year business. Zespri alone posted a NZ$1.45 billion / US$1.07 billion profit. The continued success of the kiwifruit is seemingly so important to Zespri, and all New Zealanders, that the organization recently went out of pocket NZ$20.5 million / US$15.2 million to front the research for new cultivars to match the success of Zespri’s somewhat new Gold Kiwifruit hybrid. The remaining money will come from taxpayers—most of whom seem keen to have public funds spent on the fruit. The funding is expected to shrink the research and development time down from the usual twenty-five years to just ten.

The goal of the project is to produce new kinds of kiwis; ones that will boost earnings the way the gold kiwi (a.k.a. Gold Kiwifruit or Hort16A) has since it hit the market in 1998. The gold kiwi is just that, gold, not green, on the inside. It originated in China then was bred to gold in a lab in Te Puke, New Zealand. The gold is sweeter and less acidic than the green as well as being noticeably less hairy. (We found the flavor to be quite honeyed.) The gold variety also nets greater yields, about 12,000 trays per ha / 2.47 ac while green will average 7,000 trays per ha.

Some of the stated ideas for new kiwis sound a little wacky or just plain eerie. One thought is to create kiwis that come in new colors. Orange and bright yellow are in the works and a red kiwi has hit some markets already. Another plan is to tailor certain kinds of flavors to specific markets. For example, the Asian market tends to like sweeter kiwis so a sweeter version would be crafted to fit that niche. The so-called “holy grail” for some kiwi researchers is to develop a fruit that produces a “taste explosion” with either an edible skin or one that peels as easily as a banana.

Whether the consumer is ready for, or even wants a red kiwi, doesn't seem to have deterred the New Zealand kiwifruit industry from charging headlong into the task of transforming the humble, green kiwi into a multicolored fruit bauble. The scientist at Zespri and other research labs working on new kiwis have vowed to not genetically modify the kiwi. The plan is to refashion it using traditional plant breeding techniques. In the end they may find a way to make an already “super food” more super.

More kiwi facts:

A kiwifruit has twice as much vitamin C as an orange, the same levels of potassium as a banana and only half the calories.

Kiwifruit contains the antioxidant compounds vitamins A, C, E, beta-carotene, lutein, and lycopene as well as numerous polyphenols.

Kiwifruit is a natural digestive aid and assists in bowel function.

Studies have shown that kiwis aid in the prevention of asthma by alleviating coughing and wheezing, especially in children.

The skin of the kiwifruit is edible.


 

For 160 years the town of Waimate North, located about 20kms/13mi inland from the Bay of Islands, has been home to the Bay of Islands Pastoral and Industrial Association Show. It is the oldest show of its kind in New Zealand and is one of those fading rarities of a bygone era.

More than just a county fair or regional exposition the Bay of Islands event brings members of the local community, inhabitants of the greater Northland and generations together for a day-long appreciation of the land and all that it produces. There is the ubiquitous blue-ribbon livestock show, the colorful kids carnival rides and the over-elaborate displays sponsored by tractor and motor bike companies. For those whose idea of fun is more staid, there is an elegant dressage event, gourmet cooking demonstrations, wine, oyster and olive oil tastings, local lamb and sausage, etc. Old and bucolic, the event remains as refined yet earthy as it must have been in the early days when settlers, missionaries, whalers, Maori tribespeople and their families gathered on the showground plain to celebrate and share what they had learned from the land.

The Northland is one among many superabundant New Zealand agricultural zones. Everything seems to flourish here, from the NZ$20 million/US$14.8 million aquaculture industry to the lucrative Gold Kiwi farms, to the handful of wineries that make memorable pinot gris -- which is no small feat.

The Northland is also famous for being the region where the New Zealand we know today, began. In the 1790’s whaling ships from France, England and America began to frequent the shores off the northern end of the island to harvest seal fur and replace broken masts using the local Kauri trees. The tiny Bay of Islands town of Russell became known as the “Hell Hole of the Pacific” given the number of brothels and taverns that popped up following the whaling trade. To counterbalance the seediness there was also a host of Anglican, Wesleyan and Catholic missionaries streaming into the area pitching salvation to the long-established Maori. New settlers began landing with some frequency, mostly Croats, English and Germans bringing with them seeds, vine clippings, livestock and Old World farming practices and animal husbandry.

Among the new arrivals was Anglican minister Samuel Marsden who is credited with planting the first grape vines in New Zealand. John Busby, who later immigrated to Australia, passed through long enough to bottle a vintage, thus fathering the wine industries of two nations.

Here, in the Northland, in 1840 the still-contentious Treaty of Waitangi was hastily drafted, debated and inked in Paihia on 6 February, making New Zealand, among other things, the emerald in the British crown. Drawn up to address Maori rights and to give England international credibility over the French who were coveting the islands for themselves, the singing of the treaty in the Northland ensured that the area would forever be a cultural and historical destination -- which it remains today though more for holiday making than the place one would visit to rekindle a lost age.

Waimate North played an integral role in the birth of the nation, or at least lent a little spiritual support. Here one can still find the Te Waimate Mission, built in 1830, which was the fourth mission in the new land and the location of the first European wedding held in New Zealand. It was around these times that the early Waimate North Shows started to take place. Over the next two decades it steadily grew in popularity and in 1888 the land where the show still takes place was purchased by the show promoters. In 1899 the Bay of Islands Pastoral & Industrial Association was established. More lands around the site were purchased by the Association over the years to create the 3.93 ha/9.83 acre site that exists today.

Adding to the class of the already esteemed show is the Savoring the Source pavilion (well, it’s just a tent actually) where local wineries and food producers show-off their products. The Northland, which from above resembles a green thumb, produces an array of foodstuffs and wines. Available to sample at the festival any year are the region’s famous savory pies, locally pressed olive oils, local honey, oysters, fresh and smoked fishes, roasted lamb and citrus in the form of sweet orange juice or the more grown-up flavor of homemade lemoncello.

We asked the question "What is your favorite New Zealand food?" See the responses.

Some of the food items mentioned in the video were mussel fritters and kina. Watch this You Tube video to see kina being eaten straight from the ocean.

Bay of Islands Pastoral and Industrial Show is held at:
205 Showgrounds Road
Wiamate North, Northland
New Zealand

Contact Information:
Lance Mountain, President
PO Box 26
Kerikeri, NZ                                                         
Phone: 09 4078 143