Durif is big, robust and not for the fainthearted, warns Valmai Hankel.

LIKE people, grape varieties have family names and histories. Sometimes they are just as confusing and complex. Take durif, for example.

Durif, sometimes spelled duriff, is the only better-known grape variety named after a person. Botanist Dr François Durif propagated it in the Rhone Valley in about 1880. Its resistance to downy mildew made it popular for a while, especially in France, but it is little grown there today. There’s been some confusion about its synonyms and true identity. In California, it’s known as petite sirah – though it’s not a straight durif as it contains a little of an even rarer variety, peloursin. DNA fingerprinting techniques carried out at the University of California in 1997 suggested that durif is a crossing of peloursin with shiraz. Apparently some Australian durifs may also contain peloursin – which, except at the CSIRO’s collection at Merbein, I can’t trace as a separate variety grown in Australia. Just to add to the confusion, there’s another variety known as petite syrah, or just syrah, in France – we know this as shiraz. The Californian petite sirah is neither petite nor is it related to shiraz. And that’s not all. In France, durif is also known as pinot de l’hermitage but it has no connection with any of the pinots.

In 1908, Victoria’s Government Viticulturist, François de Castella, brought 2000 durif, grafted to phylloxera-resistant rupestris vines, from Montpellier to Melbourne. They were propagated at the Rutherglen Viticultural Research Station, then spread around the area when replanting was taking place after phylloxera had devastated the region.

I remember first meeting durif in the early-1970s, dining at Gramp’s Weinkeller Restaurant in the Barossa (now the attractive cellar door sales area for Grant Burge). Interested in what the people at the next table were drinking, I overheard their approving appraisal of a dry red quite unfamiliar to me – a Morris Durif. So I went in search of a bottle. It took a bit of finding but eventually I ran one down. Soon after, I drank it with a succulent piece of rump steak. Never had I come across anything quite like it – impenetrably deep purple, robust and mouth-puckeringly tannic, it reminded me a little of blackberry jam without the seeds and sugariness. It was vinocide to drink it so young.

In those days, durif was rare in Australia and most, if not all, came from Rutherglen. As Australia’s 13th most widely-planted red, durif remains rare, although there was an increase in plantings from 300 hectares in 2001 to 463 hectares in 2002. Most of it is in Rutherglen, with some in Griffith in the Riverina, and smaller plantings elsewhere. In South Australia there’s a bit in the Riverland, the Barossa and McLaren Vale.

Today, as well as a still, dry red, durif is made into a sparkling wine and a vintage port. It may be on its own or blended, often with shiraz. As its makers usually claim, durif needs time to show its best. Alcohol levels can be as high as a massive 17 per cent, which is more than some fortified wines.
Master of durif is Mick Morris, who had used it in port and saw its potential as a table wine. He made his first in 1954, only handing over to his son David in 1994.

In my cellar I found a bottle of 1996 Morris Durif, which I compared with the currently available version, 2000 (about $24). The 1996, a gold medal winner at the 1999 Sydney Wine Show, is more refined than some vintages but still intensely flavoured; the 2000 is mouthfilling and surprisingly well-integrated. You may still find the fuller-flavoured, chunky 1999, which will take longer to reach its peak. For something else powerful, look out for Morris Sparkling Shiraz Durif (about $18), but forget about it for five years.

Another long-time Rutherglen durif maker is Stanton & Killeen, whose durif is sometimes straight, sometimes blended. Today, most Rutherglen wineries put out a durif. 2002 Warrabilla Reserve Durif (about $33), made by fifth-generation winemaker Andrew Sutherland Smith, comes from an outstanding Rutherglen vintage in which, according to Andrew, “exceptionally ripe fruit harvested in perfect conditions after a very mild summer, gave wines of incredible tannin structure, length and flavour”. He says the wine shows “black morello cherry and crushed violets on the nose and incredible depth of colour and flavour on the palate”, and recommends cellaring it for five years plus. This is the punchy 17 per cent alcohol wine. I’m recommending it to you untasted, as I’m putting my bottle away until about 2008.

From Griffith, I have especially enjoyed 2001 Westend Estate 3 Bridges Durif (about $25). The most approachable in its youth of any of the durifs I’ve recently tasted, this has the variety’s distinctive cherry, plummy fruit but the tannins I found less aggressive than in most young durifs. It was awarded gold at the 2002 Royal Adelaide Wine Show. Also from the Riverina come the bargain-priced ready-to-drink fruity De Bortoli Deen Durif, and De Bortoli Emeri Sparkling Durif (each about $10), appealingly purple-red, slightly sweet and uncomplicatedly quaffable chilled on an Adelaide autumn afternoon.

Kingston Estate chief winemaker Bill Moularadellis picked the first durif from his Riverland plantings in 2000 and was excited by the fruit’s potential. He decided to work towards making a commercially viable quantity from future vintages, and later this year will release, under the Kingston Empiric label, what is probably South Australia’s first durif. Meanwhile, 2000 Kingston Empiric Selection Durif (about $18), from the King and Alpine Valleys in North East Victoria, is, says Bill, “a real brooding monster”.

Being usually such an assertive wine, durif goes well with kangaroo, venison and steak. Remember the wine’s ageing potential and try not to draw the cork too soon or you will, as I did on my first taste, wonder what you’ve struck.