For what with global warming and wild fire, Rick’s Giaconda vineyards, planted in the early 1980s with the Chardonnay first bottled in 1986, have been feeling the heat of late. So six years back he grafted Nebbiolo onto half a hectare of wilting Pinot Noir. He’s happy with the result, as are the hacks at the Wine Advocate apparently, rating his Nebbiolo as the best tasted outside Italy. I sense though that his new business partner Michel Chapoutier is not so keen, preferring Syrah instead. Rick stresses he’s not out to make a me-too Barbaresco or Barolo style wine, but one that reflects the lower pH  granite and schistous soils that lie on the Victorian Alp foothills at between 500-700 metres above sea-level, made with the same painstaking care that characterises all his wines; wines that are truly hand-made, without recourse to yeast, pump or filter.

He lost no time in getting amongst a small selection of Piemontese friends/producers I’d lined up for him – Mario Fontana, Davide Rosso, Maria Teresa Mascarello, Teobaldo Rivella and Luca Roagna – quizzing them about everything from the amount of leaves left when thinning to the levels and timings of sulphur additions.  And to return the compliment, he shared out a bottle of his exquisitely poised 2008 Chardonnay and compact blue-blooded 2006 Warner Vineyard Shiraz both no doubt benefiting from Rick’s dabbling in the occult:

evangelical biodynamicist and friend Alex Podolinsky visits Rick from time to time…

And who better to visit during this particularly hot and humid spell than this former air-conditioning engineer from Queensland – although I’m not sure if he ever did get around to mending Cascina delle Rose’s dehumidifier that packed up recently, much to owner Giovanna Rizzolio’s despair.

In the video below winemaker Tom Portet talks a bit about the wines from Penfolds, how they have evolved and the measures they are having to take due to the droughts in recent years:

Unfortunately I’d totally underestimated the generosity of my host who brought along something wonderful, expensive and rare from the Rhône. As we tucked into a great game terrine with crusty bread and quaffed his delicious wine I looked nervously at my brooding plum/purple offering nestling at the bottom of a makeshift decanter. “Uh oh!” I thought.

So it came to the main course, he went for partridge and I went for the roast duck, both with savoy cabbage and mash. I chugged my wine, Ridge’s Lytton Springs 2006, into our glasses, swirled round and ……..

What on earth was I concerned about? Rich, sweet and spicy on the nose with the real essence of blackberries with a dollop of double cream. On the palate it was very similar, blackberry jam!!! Beautifully concentrated with a voluptuous, seductive finish. Fantastic in its own right but it was as the accompaniment to the rich, gamey food that it shone the brightest. I suppose the concentrated fruit is like a redcurrant jelly/game sauce supplement.

Now, I’m not saying it was better than my host’s legend, but for the food we ate, our mood and our surroundings we both agreed…..The Ridge was more, er, “appropriate”!

As the nights draw in and we look to comfort food this ticks all the boxes (and some I hadn’t even considered!) A real seductive treat.

Ready now but will keep well for another 5 years +

Nigel Greening of Felton Road Estate in New Zealand talks about biodynamics in the New World

Two of the aspects of Biodynamics which I personally find least convincing are the preparations (500-508), and the calendar. Unfortunately these are probably the two areas that also get the vast majority of the publicity associated with Biodynamic farming, largely because of the “Harry Potter makes some potions” aspect of the whole thing.

Don’t misunderstand me; I’m not suggesting that I think that the preps don’t do anything. The microbial count in Prep 500 (the overwintered cow-horn dung) is extraordinarily high and anybody who believes the commonly used statements that these preps are used in “homeopathic” doses is invited to enjoy a glass of the pungent dark brown brew. Similarly the preps used in composting only need to be seeding the compost with small amounts of micro-organisms or trace elements to have a profound effect. Whether one accepts or rejects the idea that these preparations work using some sort of cosmic force, the simple microbial effect is enough to make them far more than a placebo.

So where’s the problem? It is simply this. Nearly all the plants and animals concerned have no native place in New Zealand. Most certainly aren’t an integral part of our terroir, so why should we use them? Steiner was talking to German farmers about their problems and his observations were essentially European in nature and 1920’s in terms of context. It would be foolish to assume that his observations were somehow a divine list of the only nine effective combinations on the planet. So is there a New Zealand equivalent?

What is intriguing about the preps is that most involve a mixture of plant and animal ingredient, which is probably a very good basis for breeding a rich diversity of bugs. He chose stags and cows because he felt that their horns, pointing to the heavens would be ideal antennae to collect waves of energy.

For those who find this pretty eccentric, we need to consider that Steiner saw the discovery and emergence of radio waves in his lifetime. He was a young boy when the waves were first discovered and he was in his late thirties when these miraculous waves of invisible energy were first used to transmit messages over a distance using antennae. It wasn’t at all a big jump to consider that there might be more sorts of wonderful invisible energies still to be discovered or that evolution may have equipped some animals to use them. For those who ask whether the preps are somehow a concentrate of such energy, I’d suggest it doesn’t matter: all that concerns us is do they work and help you farm better?

While we have no native animals other than both flighted and flightless birds and a couple of lizards, (all of which are protected: stuffing a Kiwi with anything would land me straight in jail) today the red deer is very much a part of our landscape, far more so than in Steiner’s Germany. It may be an introduced species, but so are grape vines and deer have been in New Zealand for a lot longer than Pinot Noir has. The same is true of cattle. While some of the plants used in the preps are now found growing in New Zealand, most are hardly typical of our local flora in Central Otago so do fail the “terroir” test. Something we might start to do in the seasons to come is to do some experiments with teas made with the plants that do define our landscape. Many are introduced: the most prominent plants on our hillsides are wild briar roses that gold miners brought in for Vitamin C or the wild thyme, again from the miners. But true natives such as Manuka: the tea tree, are known for their pharmaceutical efficacy, so they might be an interesting component. As part of the drive to protect the native species, stuffing a possum with rose-hips and then doing practically anything with it would certainly attract a Government grant and have a serious resonance with local conventional farmers, let alone those of biodynamic bent.

So, we have a rich field in which to experiment.

Similarly where does the calendar sit when our seasons are reversed, the constellations inverted and many invisible in our heavens? (One must bear in mind that those who drew the plans and theory of astrological constellations had never seen the southern skies and stars.) The short answer is: I haven’t a clue, but I suspect that is just as true for others who follow the Thun Calendar.

If this sounds like heresy, maybe it is. But I can’t help wondering whether some independent work to try to understand the influences and rhythms of our ecosystems is not overdue. Steiner was never an opponent of science: he was a great fan and wanted to reconcile the world of his more esoteric beliefs and modern scientific understanding. Bearing in mind that so much of his thinking is now mainstream: the idea of viewing land as a holistic ecosystem, his attempts to define and focus on sustainability are just two examples. We also have to accept that at his most controversial he never came up with any ideas as outlandish as quantum mechanics or string theory.

So perhaps next year when a hunter drops by to swap a deer for some wine (which is a regular occurrence, by the way), we might try a bit of thyme stuffing, so to speak. Rose-hip tea has long been enjoyed by people, perhaps the grapes would like a sip as well.

OK, The land of concrete and dust is finally come. Fittingly, I flew in on an Emirates A380, the largest plane in the world. It is an astonishing bit of kit… apparently there is a spa with showers in first class, where they will shortly be pouring our wine (first, that is, not in the shower!)… typical that the wine travels better than I do! I have to ‘make do’ with business, no shabby choice with large beds, and a very roomy bar to lounge in. The thing is just ridiculously big; I think they have to keep the upper deck pressurised even when the plane is on the ground, it is so tall.

So… one flies in on the world’s biggest plane, then drives past the world’s tallest building (and believe me, it is TALL), to spend a couple of days in the world’s largest building site.

I take a trip to the world’s largest mall (naturally) and the first thing I see on walking in is the truly aqueous sight of the world’s largest fish tank (left). This thing is not so much a fish tank, more an indoor ocean and they haven’t been stingy with the cod when it has come to filling it; the place is heaving with countless species of squamous exoticism. The world’s largest mall also seems to have the world’s largest number of empty square metres of shop space per shopper as well. Strangest of all, it also has the world’s only branch of Waitrose (outside the UK, that is).

I’m a bit jealous, if truth be told. Blair is doing the Asian sales trip; as I head west he’s just leaving Seoul for Taipei, and since I’m not much of a mall junkie, I’d probably be rather hitting the dim sum, or whatever. There is something pretty perverse about having a place that is this hot and dusty when… for the vast majority… a beer is illegal.

The scary part comes when one looks out of the 35th story window of my hotel at the mayhem that stretches way out over the horizon and thinks two words: carbon footprint. My hotel must use a year’s worth of our electricity bill every time they open their 6 metre high glass doors to let somebody walk out into the blast furnace that is outside. We talk in New Zealand about how we can move from having 80% carbon neutral electric supply to 100% (at the cost of two or three magnificent trout rivers and a few hill ranges lost to windfarms) while these guys blow a thousand times that amount building another ridiculous shaped island off the coast to sell to a bored Premier League footballer. Unfortunately, that little scam has now gone rather sour. There is a ludicrous example of this hubris in a structure called “The World”: an archipelago of artificial islands that mimics: well, the name says it. To date only one building has been built within the entire planet. Apparently the poor bugger that bought Ireland recently committed suicide over the whole project, which is now slowly eroding back into the ocean.

What I want to know is who… on earth… when offered the choice of the whole planet, would choose to buy Ireland? He must have been well dodgy before it all went wrong.

And here lies the rub: we talk high moral ideals, tick all the politically correct boxes, yet our wines sell mostly into an earnings group where carbon footprint largely equates to how wide the back tyres on the new Porsche are going to be. So are we simply hypocrites?

I don’t think so; not sure about this one, but I’d lean towards: ”not guilty, M’lud”.

Ultimately we aren’t in business to reform others, we just take responsibility for our own doings. And anyway, if they spend enough on our wine, then maybe they can’t afford the engine upgrade on the Gulfstream and we’ll force a tiny cut that way.

I go to the tasting, a little unsure as to what wine buyers in Dubai will be like. I shouldn’t have worried: I now know where all the European A-list sommeliers go when they are bored of another gig with Gordon Ramsay. It was nice to catch up and have a gossip about who was doing what around the world eating scene. We sat in the cool of a beachside restaurant and watched a few holidaymakers lie on the beach: they weren’t so much being sunburned as steamed like a Chinese duck in the merciless oppression of a Gulf summer.

The trade’s insight into the local economic scene was interesting. Things are getting hard here, but they have a secret weapon up their sleeve. As one manager at what is certainly one of the world’s most exclusive hotels put it: “We’ve started to let the Russians come in.”

What I wanted to know most about Dubai, but nobody could tell me was: why? The whole of Dubai seems to shriek the word to me. Who on earth sold in the idea that every one of us will want to come here, holiday here, shop here, buy a house on a palm shaped island here?

“It’s beautiful in the evenings.” said one guy, hopefully. Yeah, like when the temperature drops to below the melting point of lead.

So, is this a monument to man’s irrepressible and limitless ambition, or an exercise in folly on a galactic scale? I’m not really certain.

I’ve decided to give the world’s probably largest and certainly most ludicrous indoor skiing resort a miss and will head off in the morning to Europe. Thanks Dubai, it’s been… well… huge.

Since then, and several motorbikes later, Frog’s Leap has grown to approximately 100 hectares and nearly 60,000 cases per annum. Yet John was at pains to point out that at Frog’s Leap they do things differently; reverence for the natural ecosystem coupled with a mantra of cultivation and dry-farming over irrigation has enabled Frog’s Leap to consistently make among the purest and freshest wines in Napa Valley. 

He told us how the region’s notoriously high alcohol levels are not simply the product of medal-seeking desperados, but primarily due to the vines’ inability to ripen properly, thanks to a drip-fed diet of ‘nutrients’ and water.  Apparently, these days Californian Zin is drunk after the tequila shots, such is its potency! But not so the Frog’s Leap example, remaining beautifully fresh and juicy at a mere 13.5%!

The 2005 Carneros Chardonnay, made at Frog’s Leap with grapes from Mike Truchard’s vineyard, remains a deliciously fresh, finely poised example of its type, perfect with the seared peppered tuna; along with the 2005 Zinfandel, a mouthful of crunchy boysenberries. 

The 2005 Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon showed the classic elegance and natural harmony that is a mark of Frog’s Leap; underlined by the 1991 vintage, all grace and guile. Both a delicious match for the crispy pork belly and lentil salsa with fennel salad! Arguably most eagerly awaited was the pair of Rutherford Cabernets, cut with 5% Cabernet Franc for extra suaveness.

The famous Rutherford dust was brought to life through these wines, reminding John of the smell of his ‘Granmama’s couch’! The focus, harmony and melting tannins being the hallmark of this hallowed terroir; wines worthy of 15  years ageing easily, as shown by the ‘96; their first vintage! Magic with the roast rump of lamb, with spring girolles. And as if that wasn’t enough, they unveiled an auslese like ‘Frogenbeerenauslese’ (!), the product of prime Rutherford terroir and 80 year old vines that once belonged to an old lady who’d nurtured the vines as a child…a sweet match indeed with the caramelised apple terrine, ice cream and cinnamon mousse.

 With more than 1,000 years experience between them, The Bunch is a group of six wine merchants representing the independent sector. With growing competition from supermarkets and high street off licences The Bunch provides a voice for the independents, all be it quite a softly spoken one.

Former Berrys’ employee and now famed wine writer for The Daily Telegraph, Jonathan Ray, persuaded The Bunch to provide a mixed case of affordable wines perfect for those feeling the pinch. The final selection represents classy but modern alternatives to classics like Barolo and Bordeaux, Champagne and Châteauneuf-du-Pape, Condrieu and Chianti – all for the bargain price of £99 including delivery.

Tantalise your taste buds with a delicious Viognier from Domaine de Coudoulet. This wine dances with delicate apricot notes and a peach-stone texture. Alternatively, the Gran Marius from Bodegas Piqueras in Almansa, Spain is great with red meats and cheese dishes.

Click Here for further details of the offer and a full list of wines with tasting notes.

To order this unique case drawn from six of the UK’s finest independent merchants at the credit crunch-busting price of £99 (inclusive of delivery), CLICK HERE or call 0870 900 4300.