Something I love from the States is African American Gospel Music. I love Gospel music. A CD we are listening to right now is called the Blind Boys of Alabama.
These guys are in their 70’s and they sing with this amazing power and passion very deep in their souls. Speaking out of their faith but also their experience of life. I love that music. A great tradition of gospel music,
Tim on Jazz
I’m a musician and I play jazz guitar. People like Miles Davis, certainly have that x factor, that extra dimension. Or, Charlie Parker, The way they could put things together.
Have you heard Keith Jarret? His concert Live at Koln? You have to hear that. It’s all improvised.
I play the guitar and I improvise a lot. I supposed I hadn’t realized what a connection creatively there is between what I can do with music and what I can do with wine. Trying to capture something like a mystery.
Amid award-dinners, wine-tastings and globe trotting, we had the chance to speak with Tim Kirk, a revolutionary winemaker reknown for his ground-breaking and breath-taking Clonakilla Shiraz Viogner
He told us about his philosphy of wine and the ongoing inspiration of working with the earth.
Your family is relatively new to Australia?
Yes. We came to Australia in 1968, when my father was offered a job by the Australian government. He shipped his young family to Australia, and settled in Canberra. He looked around, looked at the climate and the weather patterns and similarities to the great areas in France and thought, well why not plant vines here? So that’s what he did in 1971.
So you do you have early memories of the vineyards?
I’m one of six boys. And dad would put a few of us in the car, and we’d head out to the block. Just to give mom some peace.
It was great. We had sheep and cattle we used to chase around. And occasionally, give a hand putting in vines, picking, or lining the rows up straight. It was a great environment to grow up in.
What was the moment you knew you wanted to make wine?
Growing up with dad making wine, I really wasn’t into it. It wasn’t cool to be into what your dad was into. I left home at 18, and basically, as soon as I left, I found I was very interested in wine.
I moved in with a bunch of guys and we used to cook together, and people started to bring wines to share. I remember there was a particular wine out of Coonawarra. It was a Penfold’s Bin 128. It was a 1986 vintage.
And, I remember being struck by just how wonderful this liquid was. This beautiful red berry, spicy aroma, silky texture, and I thought, “That’s pretty smart.”
Then you became a teacher.
I moved with my wife Lara to Melbourne in 1990, and was teaching at a big catholic boys school. That was a great passion for me as well. I had thought, to that point that my call was to be a religion teacher.
I remember going on a retreat, taking a couple days out for prayer and reflection.
I said to my retreat director, who was a very old wise Jesuit priest, “Look, father, I love what I’m doing, I love teaching religion. But, every time I sit down to pray, I have this distraction come into my mind. I keep thinking about what’s the best way to make Shiraz.”
And he said something wise. He said, “Why do you assume it’s a distraction?”
So, I gave myself permission, for the first time in my life, instead of trying to push away this growing passion that was in me to go and make wine.
And do you know now what the best way to make Shiraz is?
Well, I’m still working on it. I think we get closer and closer. We did a great tasting—a ten-year retrospective of all the Shiraz-Viognier since 1997.
All the wines were good. But, in the last four or five years you see a greater authority and our confidence coming through in the wines, a clearer expression of the fruit.
That’s what I’m trying to do, capture all that is noble and beautiful and wonderful about the fruit and present it, in a purest form as possible, in a wine glass.
Every year it is a source of wonder to me how great these wines can be.
When we talked to Rob Mann, I asked him how much was the winemaker’s voice and how much was the fruit and the land and he said it was 95% the land.
Yes.
And then I was talking to a jazz musician about conversations. Do you think winemakers have a conversation with the land?
That’s a great image. It’s definitely a relationship. And like with all relationships it’s tested upon.
In the 1999 vintage we had so much frost damage and instead of ripening in February and into early April, the grapes were ripening into May. It changed the texture of the wine.
You still see the terroir speaking, it’s just in a much more challenging form. We have this phrase that we use in this district “liquid geography”. Every site is unique—the structure, the make-up of the soil, the way the climate interacts with it—is something unique.
Going back to our earlier discussion about theology, there is a theological element to it. It’s kind of working hand in hand with the creator and with creation, and trying to capture what is so unique and wonderful about that particular patch of earth, and present that in liquid form.
So it’s more a conversation with God?
Of, course I would say so. It is. No question, it’s working with his handiwork. It’s an honor. For me, it’s a great thing
And is there a winemaker’s voice?
The winemaker certainly does have a voice. There are so many decisions that have to be made from the ground up.
I have an idea that the great winemakers are going to be making great wines, which are in sympathy with the fruit. Not trying to impose something from outside, but rather to make the correct decisions to show what is most noble about the fruit.
We were talking to Colin Kay about collaboration and how tight knit the industry was, do you find that’s true?
One of the reasons I’m in Melbourne is to attend a dinner with some close friends of mine, who are themselves winemakers or wine writers.
We formed a club. This was our inaugural meeting. And, we drink just fantastic wines. I tell you some of the things we drank: six, 2000 Montrachet, from all the top producers. And a brace of four, 1996 Champagnes, from great producers. The absolute highlight was five wines from the Domain de la Romanee Conti, from 1990. The greatest wines in the world.
So that’s a good club.
Yeah, unbelievable. We had as our guest of honor, James Halliday, one of the great father-figures of the Australian Wine Industry and an inspiration to so many of us. He’s drunk more Romanee Conti than anyone else on the planet. He has so much knowledge, and so many stories, about those wines. So, it was such a treat to have him there.
Getting together, drinking great wine together, sharing our ideas, stories, visions; that’s very common in the Australian Wine industry.
So when you are drinking fantastic wines like that, what inspires you?
They have this ‘x’ factor or this extra dimension, this mysterious, inherent wonder about them. They often leave you quite speechless. They have a beauty and a personality all of their own.
And that’s what inspires you. If you can have wine—that’s made from fermented grapes and matured in barrels—that takes on this life and personality, it’s a thing of such dignity and such beauty.
That’s why it’s important to drink those wines. As expensive as it is. They can be so inspiring about what can be done by fermenting grape juice.
I know it’s been a tough year this year with drought and frost, how do stay inspired?
That’s a very good question. I suppose, the thing that doesn’t lose me is that the wines turn out so beautifully. Every year it is a source of wonder to me how great these wines can be.
Not as a reflection on my capacity as a winemaker, just that we have something in our vineyards that is wonderful. There is something about that perfume, that structure on the palate, that texture of the wine we make. I’m in awe of it.
I have a very deep respect for the land and find it inspiring in an ongoing way. I feel very blessed—to use a more theological term.
I feel like I have a role as a guardian. My job is to protect and nurture this place and the fruit that’s grown there. Capture what’s beautiful about it and express it in its purest form possible.
Who should we talk to next?
I did give that some thought, and I’ve got someone for you. He’s a young winemaker, a bit similar to me. He now runs the winery that his father started down in Victoria, Gisbon, it’s not that far from Brisbane, but it’s one of the cooler areas of Victoria. His name is Michael Dhillon, and the wine is called Bindi, and he makes fantastic Pinot Noir and Chardonay.
I was talking to him yesterday because we though next year we might Clonakilla/Bindi dinners around the country.
