Terror in the Vineyard

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THE GRAPES OF WRAITH

At Seppeltsfield, in the heart of the Barossa, spooky things are said to happen. Although the current owners deny it, locals have for years claimed to hear the sound of machinery long since decommissioned... footsteps on floors that no longer exist... a mysterious glow at the top of the winery, and moans, groans and whispers in the old dining hall (mind you, that last one suggests that something far more worldly may be going on there).

Up the road at Keyneton, a ghostly female presence is said to haunt the cellars at Henschke – opening and closing doors, moving objects, and generally giving folk the willies. Her identity is uncertain, but WineDown suspects temperance zealot, Sarah Evans – widow of pioneering Keyneton vigneron, Henry Evans. When Henry died in 1868, Sarah demonstrated the strength of her convictions by closing the winery and wrenching out all the grapevines. Although the haunting is reportedly benign, a woman who was that scary alive isn’t someone you’d want to bump into as a spectre.

Even down at Penfolds Magill Estate, there’s a suggestion that Mary Penfold occasionally messes with the heads of estate staff, playing games with teacups and furniture in the old Grange stone cottage that she and husband Christopher Rawson Penfold built in 1845.

It’s scary stuff, but hardly blood-curdling. And frankly, not nearly as creepy as some of the stuff that actually happens every day in vineyards across the land...

DEVIANT MUTANTS

Your average vineyard may appear a picture of bucolic charm, but in fact it’s a seething hotbed of sexual deviation, chimerism, and clonal mutation. And that’s just the Pinots! But let’s start at the beginning. All wild species of grapevines are dioecious – meaning that they have male and female flowers located on separate plants. They need to be cross-pollinated by bees and other friendly insects in order to bear fruit. But when Vitis vinifera began to be cultivated many thousands of years ago, something extraordinary happened. The species underwent a sexual (r)evolution, producing self-pollinating flowers with both (male) pistils and (female) stamens. They are true hermaphrodites – known as perfect, or in some circles, bisexual, flowers. So, Vitis vinifera is no stranger to transmogrification. But wait, dear reader, there’s more...

PINOT NOIARRGGHHH!

Spontaneous mutation isn’t exactly rare in the plant world. If you’re a vine and you stick around for long enough (vine, stick... geddit?) chances are you’ll throw a mutation. Pinot is a great example. It’s a truly ancient grape variety – much older than, say, Cabernet Sauvignon – and it’s been around long enough to have produced a swag of mutations. What’s fascinating about these genetic changes is that they often impact the production of anthocyanin – the complex red pigment molecules that give grapes their tint. Which is why we now have a whole range of Pinots in an assortment of colours. Pinot Blanc, Pinot Gris, Pinot Meunier and a number of other (less notable) family members are all mutants of the genetically unstable Daddy Noir.

DOPPELGANGERS

Mention the word clone, and most peoples’ minds go straight to the least compelling film in the Star Wars canon, or the regrettably short life of Dolly the Sheep. However, clones and cloning are an essential part of viticulture. Clonal selection allows a single superior plant (either in terms of yield, ripeness or flavour characteristics) to be replicated over and over again. If it sounds a bit like scary science, just put it into the backyard context: cuttings.

A clone is simply a cutting taken from an existing ‘mother vine’ and then either planted directly into soil or (more likely) grafted onto rootstock. There are clones available for just about every variety of grape you’d want to grow, and in most countries, are distributed through licensed nurseries and government agencies. This latter detail may help to explain the baffling nomenclature imposed on clones, which go by names like 131 (a Chardonnay), MV6 and D5V12A (Pinots Noir), and the delectable sounding 239Gm – a Riesling clone from Geisenheim in Germany.

NIGHTMARES

Plants, like people, flourish in diversity. While clonal selection offers viticulturists a welcome degree of consistency in regard to flavour and yield, many growers are now wary of depending on a single clone of any variety. In fact, most Aussie producers prefer a mixture of clones, or mass selection (propagating from a range of vines) for the serendipitous qualities and happy accidents they can bring. And thank goodness for that. A life without surprises? That’s the stuff of nightmares.

Boo.