We gathered every example of Australian gamay that we could find and set our expert panel the task of finding the wines that compelled the most. All wines were tasted blind, and each panellist named their top six wines. Below are the wines that made the panellists’ top-six selections from the tasting.
Our panel: Oliver Rapson, proprietor and winemaker, Lyons Will Estate; Indra Nadeson, winemaker, Lethbridge; Howard Stamp, proprietor and wine buyer, Bar Thyme; Callie Jemmeson, winemaker, Pacha Mama; Graeme Critchley, wine retailer, Toorak Cellars; Hélène Laffitte, sales representative, Imbibo; Jordan Veltheer, wine communicator, Vino Champ; Sez Robinson, sommelier, Cumulus Inc.
Nadeson, Jemmeson, Lafitte, and Rapson all had this wine in their top six from the blind tasting. Nadeson described it as a wine that “delighted me at every turn,” noting that “it’s not an easy task to balance slightly confected carbonic lift with soft structure and power. The wine opens with aromas of Allens Red Frogs and blackcurrant Fruit Pastilles, alongside a whiff of raw cooking spices, bright, but far from simple. The palate had a quiet and gentle power: light and dancing in the precise yet explosive style of a ballerina. Fresh strawberries and perfectly ripe raspberries combined with curry spices like cardamom and fennel.” Jemmeson found it “bright and lifted with sour cherry and cranberry, layered with rose petal and a touch of white pepper. There’s a soft, slurpy feel to it, with that bubblegum and musk note sitting underneath from the ferment. Light-bodied, perfumed and really juicy through the palate.” Rapson described it as “generous yet delicate – the nose balanced between boysenberry and blackberry fruits and deeper tones of pencil shavings. A perfect depth of flavour on the palate, with chalky tannins, a touch of savouriness, and a nice tension between acidity and softness on the mid-palate.”
This wine made the top six of Critchley, Stamp, and Jemmeson. Critchley noted “a massive hit of black pepper on the nose,” before finding “dark-fruited, with blackberries, black plums, and blackcurrant leaf on the nose, along with a healthy lick of freshly ground black pepper. A more full-bodied style of gamay, which opens up to show some oak spice notes – clove and cinnamon, along with a little dark chocolate. I suspect it will age gracefully.” Stamp picked up “dark blueberry, barrel-aged Negroni, and bitter orange pith” on the nose, adding that “its palate of rich, opulent blue fruits sits well with those barrel notes. All of this makes for a serious wine with medium tannins – perfect to have with duck dishes, braised meats, or even steak.” Jemmeson offered a counterpoint, finding it “silky and flowing, with Morello cherry, wild raspberry and red plum through the palate. There’s a gentle savoury edge, think crushed stone and a hint of earth, that adds depth without taking away from the brightness.”
Lafitte, Jemmeson, and Rapson each included this wine in their top six from the blind tasting. Lafitte called it “a serious number, showing perfect balance of elegance and power with a beautiful oak integration. On the nose you can see a complex layering of red cherries, strawberries and fragrant peonies, intertwined with earthy undertones that evoke damp forest floor and fallen leaves.” Jemmeson found it “lifted and aromatic with raspberry, red cherry and a dusting of spice. There’s more intensity here, with a concentrated core of fruit, bright acidity and that chalky, fine tannin that gives it drive. Feels energetic and focused, with good length.” Rapson described “a denser style – opulent, with notes of dark cherry and a slightly minty alpine undergrowth character. Real forest-walk vibes! Interesting graphite minerality on the palate, alongside a tight acid line and a chalky tannin presence that gives nice length.”
Veltheer and Critchley both selected this wine in their top six from the blind tasting. Veltheer opened with “bright red plums and a smack of fresh violet. So fresh and soft on the palate, with a cleansing acidity to balance it all out and just enough grippy tannin to keep me interested. Earthy cacao notes emerge on the finish that make me go ‘Wow, okay’. A beautifully delicate drop, but one with just enough sophistication to keep me intrigued – like someone in a cardigan wearing glasses.” Critchley found “a soft and juicy style of gamay. Red-fruited, with flavours of strawberries and raspberries paired with soft tannins, giving it an almost coulis- or syrup-like mouthfeel. Notes of dried leaves and dried raspberries along with a touch of pine needle balance out the ripe fruit notes and give complexity. This reminds me of the cru wines from the Fleurie subregion of Beaujolais – a really well-balanced wine.”
Stamp and Robinson both had this wine in their top six from the blind tasting. Stamp described “a nose of violets and amaro, background notes of old coffee beans and even some pine needles crushed underfoot. The palate is soft and round, but with clear acidity – like raspberries stewed with just a little sugar. Hiding in the back there’s a herbal element of rosemary, thyme, and hedgerow. Smooth and subtle, with a lovely acidity – perfect served chilled, or as it is on the deck on a cool summer evening.” Robinson found it “compelling from start to finish. Blood plums, macerated strawberries, and a hint of mint, there’s so much to discover. There’s a layer of orange rind with a touch of star anise that reminds me of a hot toddy – warming, spicy and makes you want more. With zippy, pomegranate-like acidity, the wine is restrained in its richness, making it dynamic but balanced.”
This wine made the top six of Robinson and Critchley. Robinson opened with “deep plum, blackberry jam, lavender spice,” finding it “beautifully complex. There’s a slightly confected note, reminding me of hard strawberry lollies from the fair, but with a blackberry edge that gives backbone. As it warms up, the salty cranberry note comes through strongly, providing lift and alluring acidity. The palate is generous, but the acidity is punchy enough to cut through the richness.” Critchley took a different angle, picking up “a dark and savoury nose – black plum and ferrous notes, a blood-and-bone characteristic. Medium-bodied on the palate, with fine, firm tannins and a blackberry liquorice-like finish. What I really love about this wine is that ferrous blood-and-bone characteristic – one I didn’t see in any of the other wines, and which is really unique.”
Veltheer, Stamp, and Critchley each selected this wine in their top six from the blind tasting. Veltheer was immediately won over: “This wine woke me up with its vibrant smattering of red plums, blackberries and cherries on the nose, all underpinned with the classic baking spice influences of oak, giving vanilla and cacao tones. Zingy acidity really lifts everything up, but also whips the palate clean, so you’re forced to come back for more.” Stamp found it “singular, as it’s just so different. The nose is all black liquorice and the seaweed salad from Sushi Sushi. The palate leans towards carbonic maceration – the taste is tart and fresh, racy on the tongue, with candied rose petals and a bright perfume carrying on through. A bit of a mind-bender.” Critchley noted the wine needed time to reveal itself: “Revisiting a few hours later, I found it quite incredible – it has a berry-flavoured breakfast juice style of nose, all blackberries and raspberries, balanced with some well-integrated oak spice and blackberry leaf on its smooth and rounded, medium-bodied palate.”
Rapson and Robinson both included this wine in their top six from the blind tasting. Rapson described it as “sweet and just a touch savoury – fresh rolled spices on the nose, leaning to tobacco. Negroni vibes on the palate – nicely balanced between gentle but present tannins, bright acidity, and slippery texture. Savoury and lengthy – super well-played!” Robinson took a broader view: “A slightly more mature take on the luscious gamay grape variety. The fruit is less raspberry jam and more blackcurrant compote. I love how the winemaker has answered the question ‘What do I feel like today – pinot or shiraz?’ This wine has the best of both – crunchy pinot acidity with the dark fruit weight of shiraz. The wine is elegant, allowing each component to have a voice without anything feeling overpowering.”
Rapson had this wine in his top six from the blind tasting, describing “a stunning bouquet – a touch of bacon fat paired with the sweetness of blackberry compote and underpinned by earthy forest undergrowth. Various levels of tannin on the palate – some chalky, some chewy – creating a layered and balanced depth to the wine, with nice length. It’s brooding, but with a fun interplay of savoury and sweet. Find a sunny spot shaded by a great tree, add a friend or a lover, and throw in a picnic – but be sure to pack some duck liver pâté, and perhaps a great goats cheese, alongside crusty bread, naturally!”
Lafitte and Critchley both selected this wine in their top six from the blind tasting. Lafitte described “a bright wine with a beautifully perfumed nose that keeps you coming back for more. Peonies and violets lead, revealing deeper, more intense aromas of blueberries and raspberries, all carried with impressive purity. The palate is equally bright and juicy, showing generous fruit concentration with a delicious sense of purity and density. Think blueberries and morello cherries, underlined by a savoury herbaceous edge, hints of nettle leaf and a subtle graphite texture.” Critchley approached it differently: “If I didn’t know that this was gamay, I’d have said it was something like a frappato or another fresh Sicilian-type red. Rose petals, raspberry, and strawberry notes – all in both their fresh and dried forms. Orange peel and raspberry black tea leaves holding it together. Soft fine tannins, and a red liquorice finish. A really tasty wine!”
Robinson had this wine in her top six from the blind tasting, describing it as a wine that “wraps around the palate with such grace: raspberry liqueur, Christmas cherries, and carnations. A beautiful, silky balance between fruit, spice and structure, there’s something new to discover with each sip. The sweet nose is almost deceiving, as it hides the serious backbone of this delicious drop. The tannins are velvety, the acid is bright without being overpowering, and they both provide a great framework for the wine to drape over. Maybe with some pork chops and even better with friends.”
This wine appeared in the top six of Veltheer and Jemmeson. Veltheer found the nose transporting him “back to the milk bar when a bag of lollies was only fifty cents – red frogs, subtle musk stick notes, and some bright violets. There’s a real vibrancy to the palate, with a lick of raspberries and cherry and a clean line of acidity to tie it all together.” Jemmeson was equally taken, finding it “immediately appealing, with bright cherry and raspberry alongside a touch of red liquorice and jube candies. There’s a gentle grip through the palate that gives it shape, with good length and a clean, moreish finish. Easy crowd-pleaser – would drink well with or without food.”
Nadeson had this wine in his top six from the blind tasting. “As someone who enjoys a touch of herbaceousness in gamay, I thoroughly enjoy the use of whole-bunch fermentation here,” he said. “When whole bunches are used in gamay, I find that the wines produced hold real gravitas, and this is no exception. There’s this light pepperiness on the nose, cushioned in blackberry and brambles. On the palate it’s all sour cherries and a hint of red cherry–flavoured Starburst, with impressive tannins and length. This is some serious wine – one that makes me wish I had an entrecôte steak with peppercorn sauce in front of me!”
This wine made Rapson’s top six from the blind tasting. He found it “more on the confected side, showing cola and musk stick notes, alongside a touch of bitter lemon or citrus pith. Bright and energetic on the palate, with lovely fruit weight – almost sweet in its fruit presence. A bit of oak spice frames the finish. Balanced, lengthy, and dynamic – this has a lot of finesse.”
Stamp included this wine in his top six from the blind tasting, noting “an opaque red in colour. A nose of British Black Jack liquorice lollies, with a blueberry compote sitting on the edge. You can see the carbonic maceration at play here – a big hit of ripe fruit on the palate, with white pepper, rosehip and violet backed by firm, but not aggressive, tannins. Feels very much like a Beaujolais Nouveau in its style – just done very well.”
Nadeson had this wine in his top six from the blind tasting. “This is the wine that I would show people who are gamay-curious, just starting to dip their toe in – a perfect introduction to why this variety deserves more attention,” he said. “It’s highly aromatic and alluring, with a candied carbonic character on the nose, backed by hints of violet. Those aromatics act as a prelude for an über-quaffable palate, extremely soft and luscious – think summer strawberry pie with some tart rhubarb thrown in. It’s medium-bodied, with soft tannins and well-placed acidity. I can picture myself drinking this juicy banger while lounging out in the sun, alongside a generous spread of charcuterie.”
This wine appeared in the top six of Jemmeson and Stamp. Jemmeson found “cranberry and red plum alongside a slightly darker edge of stewed cherry, with warm spice – cumin and clove – and a hint of caramelised sugar. There’s an earthy, herbal layer and a subtle amaro-like bitterness, like blood orange and bitter herbs, that pulls it into a more savoury space. Balanced and quietly complex.” Stamp picked up a wine with some development: “The nose is restrained blue fruit with an earthy tertiary component. Delicate dark red cherry and blue plums on the palate, with thyme and black pepper sitting in the background. Medium tannins, soft and round – it’s voluptuous, leaning into the more seductive food-wine style. I’d love to see this with a coq au vin or duck confit and lentils!”
Lafitte selected this wine in her top six from the blind tasting. “I love the dark, layered intensity on the nose – morello cherries and bright red plums, lifted by a green freshness reminiscent of raspberry leaf, with hints of dark chocolate and smoky characters,” she said. “The palate is velvety, with an appealing savoury structure – perhaps shaped by the use of whole-bunch fermentation – and a subtle touch of graphite. Flavours of raspberry, nettle and a hint of smoked bacon fat add further complexity. A gamay crafted in a classic style, with thoughtful oak ageing, yet far from old-school. It’s a compelling expression of what the variety can achieve in the hands of a skilled winemaker.”
Nadeson and Robinson both had this wine in their top six from the blind tasting. Nadeson smiled on first taste: “Red liquorice jumps out from the glass, alongside fragrant peonies and slight peppery greenness. The vibrant purple hue reveals an equally bright and crunchy medium-bodied palate. Juicy forest fruit flavours of blackberries and wild strawberries mingle with freshly turned earth to give the wine some savoury depth without overshadowing the delicate floral character.” Robinson found it equally compelling: “Unlike its counterparts, this wine shows its minty, herbaceous side within the first sip. There’s a whiff of spearmint, elderberry, punchy blueberry and a dash of wild fennel, all supported by black plum fleshiness. A note of pressed violet gives it a floral lift and adds to the beautiful complexity. It’s enchanting to drink a gamay that leans into the cooler, more blue-fruited style without losing any of the plushness that we all love gamay for.”
Critchley included this wine in his top six from the blind tasting, finding “raspberry and strawberry notes – both fresh and dried – alongside floral rose petals on the nose. Some fine silky tannins on its clean and fresh palate – it’s not especially layered or deep, just direct and delicious, with a little hint of chalky minerality on the finish. I think this is the perfect chillable red, as the fine tannins become a little more prominent and help to hold the structure of the wine together.
This wine made Stamp’s top six from the blind tasting. “The nose hits with morello cherries and Christmas spice – you can already tell this will be a hug in a mug,” he said. “Plush and round on the palate, with soft tannins, showing stewed plums. Bright and pretty despite its richer style, this is a wine that would be perfect for a winter afternoon by the fire – ideally with some mild blue cheese and a board game.”
Nadeson had this wine in his top six from the blind tasting. “There’s almost nothing more enticing to me than a red wine that smells of flowers – and encountering this wine is like walking in a garden in springtime, flowers in full bloom, the fragrance of violets and crushed rose petals completely bewitching,” he said. “The floral characteristics continue on the palate – think a rose-flavoured macaron with raspberry jam in the middle – which is silky and supple, with nice fruit weight. This is a super-compelling gamay, and one that I very much enjoyed discovering.”
Veltheer selected this wine in his top six from the blind tasting. “This wine left me feeling like I just got whacked in the face by some lavender and violets,” he said. “The nose is so intensely floral, underpinned by ripe raspberry and cranberry fruit notes. There’s also a complex note of struck matchstick and pencil shavings that contrasts the floral characteristics superbly. It’s light and high-toned on the palate, with the most refreshing acidity on the finish – the kind of wine that makes me go ‘ahhh!’. This wine truly showcases the diversity of the variety – not to mention some serious winemaking talent.”
Lafitte and Veltheer both had this wine in their top six from the blind tasting. Lafitte described “a wine reflecting a more modern, technical approach to winemaking. The nose is precise and well balanced, with concentrated dark fruit supported by distinctive notes of gentian and wormwood, evoking an amaro-like character that complements the plush fruit beautifully. Aromas of blackberry, bramble fruit, and a hint of smoke add further complexity. The palate is smooth and polished, revealing black plum and dark cherry flavours, well balanced by a graphite-like, almost rocky freshness that brings definition and lift.” Veltheer found “real concentration of dark plums and blackberries, with some subtle earthy notes leaning more towards the savoury side of things. A very elegant and silky structure – bright acidity lifts everything up. To me this should be our go-to steak wine, with enough structure and acid but still soft enough to be enjoyed on its own.”
This wine made Rapson’s top six from the blind tasting. He found it “opulent, generous, and warm. There’s an undercurrent of sweetness to the nose, with notes of dark cherry, blood plums, maraschino, and a little floral lift of violets. Rounded and mouth-filling on the palate – on the generous side, but balanced with good, lively acidity. A lovely wine. Pair with a cool night, pork roast, broccolini, and a celeriac mash, then add in a good friend and Ben Harper in the background to finish the picture. Perfection.”
Veltheer included this wine in his top six from the blind tasting, finding “a nose of maraschino cherries and plum jam, leading into cinnamon and cacao. Juicy and vivacious on the palate, with a kiss of tannin, a tight bitterness to balance it all out, and a zippy acidity to bring it on home. This wine is joyful and fun – the kind that reminds me that not everything in life has to be too serious. A real crowd-pleaser – and my next dinner-party wine.”
Lafitte selected this wine in her top six from the blind tasting. “A very intriguing nose, led by black cherry and white pepper, suggesting a cool-climate expression of gamay – surprisingly so,” she said. “On the palate, the wine is bright and vibrant, with crunchy red cherry and raspberry fruit. Beneath that, the velvety fruit is layered with a subtle smoked meat note, adding complexity. The acidity is lively, balanced by a savoury depth that brings a meaty richness to the wine. The texture is generous, with layers of spice giving it a slightly edgy profile – black pepper, clove, and a hint of dried bay leaf. Overall, it’s a compelling and characterful wine that would pair beautifully with gently spiced North African cuisine such as a lamb tagine.”
This wine appeared in the top six of Nadeson and Jemmeson. Nadeson found “aromas of basil and sweet liquorice – a hint of a deliciously complex wine to come. This wine doesn’t heavily feature the confected character typical of carbonic maceration, instead highlighting the more mature side of gamay. The core flavours of brambles and black liquorice provide quiet intensity, supported by velvet-soft tannins. A wine that I’m desperate to drink alongside some crispy roast duck and a rich cherry sauce.” Jemmeson offered a lighter read: “Juicy and slurpy with fresh cherry and cranberry, layered with lavender, potpourri and a delicate amaro spice. Light on its feet but still interesting, with that slightly savoury edge keeping it balanced. Chill it down and take it to a barbecue or picnic – this is where it shines.”
Robinson had this wine in her top six from the blind tasting. “With its explosion of flavour onto the palate, this wine can only be described as ‘lively’,” she said. “On the nose, there’s a heavy scent of ripe raspberry and strawberries, supported by cinnamon and nutmeg. After a swish around the glass, blueberries and crunchy autumn leaves take over, giving the wine a rounded and savoury feel. The acidity has a blood orange and pomegranate grip, making you thirsty for more. Whether it’s sitting in front of the fire or standing in front of a barbecue, this wine would be perfect for all occasions.”
Few genuinely noble wine regions have been sullied as much as Beaujolais has. From plain old everyday rusticity, where ‘farmhouse wine’ tasted more of the former than the latter, to one of the most baroquely ornate exercises in marketing crassness in the form of ‘Beaujolais Nouveau’, Beaujolais has been very diligently dulling its lustre for decades. It has very recently started changing up the narrative – indeed, so-called ‘cru Beaujolais’ is currently hot property at forward-thinking wine bars and restaurants around the world – but thanks to that sordid history, its name will remain ever tarnished to some, as will that of its emblematic grape variety, gamay.
In fact, gamay has been victimised for some time, with it anecdotally vanquished from Burgundy proper in the 14th century by the irate Philip the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, who described it in a very Trump-like fashion as “a very bad and disloyal plant.” (Thank God Philip didn’t have access to Truth Social …) Gamay’s earlier ripening and abundant yield was apparently a slight on the serene and noble complications that pinot noir presented to the Duke – and, no doubt, to pinot’s more refined results. Somewhat ironically, this exile was also a family separation – gamay is, genetically speaking, a child variety of pinot and gouais blanc, which means that it is also a full sibling of Burgundy’s star white grape, chardonnay.
As the story goes, gamay was exiled further south, to take up refugee status between Mâcon and Lyon, sandwiched between the Northern Rhône and the Côte d’Or – and therefore between the aristocratic syrah and ethereal pinot noir. Beaujolais, and by extension, gamay, enjoyed some little success in the following centuries, establishing itself not so much as subservient to Burgundy, but rather just different: somewhat more carefree, chattier, less snobby, but decidedly valid. Vineyards were mapped, and the differences between villages was well-understood. Gamay never trod on pinot noir’s gleaming big-buckled court shoes, but it certainly made its more bucolic mark, and was celebrated for it – especially once railway freight made it accessible to the bistros of Paris, where it became and largely remains the traditional house red option.
Come wine’s mid-twentieth century industrial revolution, and like many regions of popular appeal, Beaujolais began to homogenise its output. Carbonic maceration – whole bunches and berries fermented in a closed tank filled with carbon dioxide – was widely used, often producing overtly fruity and confected wines. It became a popular, reliable and economical supermarket product, largely stripped of individuality. This image, and one of the wine world’s biggest marketing ‘successes’, in the form of Beaujolais Nouveau, saw both gamay and the Beaujolais region sullied seemingly beyond repair – well, in the eyes of serious wine drinkers, at least.
For those not familiar, Beaujolais Nouveau was a marketing device to celebrate a race to market of newly-fermented wine. This was initially a literal race to Paris, but later evolved into an international celebration on the third Thursday in November, where practically raw, unfinished wine was airfreighted around the world to be guzzled in often-dissolute Dionysian celebrations. Beaujolais Nouveau’s heyday was in the 1970s and ’80s, long before food miles became an issue of conscience. Its success was staggering, but it was built on the flimsiest of foundations, and it flickered for a while before fading back to the novelty it always was – although it created a now-persistent association between Beaujolais and American thanksgiving celebrations, and large quantities of Beaujolais Nouveau are still used to wash down turkey and cranberry sauce every November.
In the full swing of Beaujolais’ decline, while the world merrily danced on its self-dug grave, a revolution was quietly gathering momentum. Celebrated as the ‘Gang of Four’ – a name bequeathed by legendary wine importer Kermit Lynch for the producers he was bringing to the US, owing to their radical nature – Marcel Lapierre, Jean-Paul Thévenet, Jean Foillard, and Guy Breton were all disciples of the chemist and winemaker Jules Chauvet, who sought to express the real terroir of the region without recourse to synthetic chemicals or highly technical processes. They employed organic farming, old vines, careful sorting of berries and minimal or no sulphur additions. If this sounds a lot like natural wine to you, you’re right – the late Chauvet is considered a figurehead of the natural wine movement, well before it had a name.
One of the great advantages of a wine region so utterly soiling itself – and then wrapping itself in tinsel and persisting to dance once the music has stopped – is that it provides a wonderful opportunity for those with a little more insight. For quite some time, a raft of genuinely superb, terroir-specific Beaujolais wine – especially so-called ‘cru Beaujolais’, from specific villages within the appellation such as Fleurie or Morgon – had been vastly undervalued in the market. Yes, that’s right: undervalued French wine, and in Australia, too. Those hip to the revolution back in the 1980s and ’90s helped popularise the wines of Beaujolais, which have seen a renewed interest in both region and grape variety. The original heartthrobs are still going strong, and they have been joined by a shimmering galaxy of new stars, too, with wines that can convince even the most died-in-the wool Beaujolais hater scarred by the bad old days of Beaujolais Nouveau that there might be something to the region and its hero variety. And while increased demand for these back-to-the-future wines from Beaujolais – not to mention a weaker Australian dollar against the Euro and the difficulties of global logistics in the wake of COVID – means the wines are no longer quite the bargains they used to be, they also kickstarted real interest in the possibilities for the grape variety in the Australian context.
It’s thought that the legendary wine impresario Len Evans planted Australia’s first gamay, committing vines to soil on his Hunter Valley ‘Loggerheads’ property in 1976. That was only a few rows, with Bass Phillip’s Phillip Jones planting a little more – though not a lot more – in 1998, and Barry and Jan Morey of Beechworth’s Sorrenberg planting their gamay vines around the same time. Eldridge Estate, somewhat of a gamay specialist, planted theirs around 2000. Until recently, the gamay grapes from ‘Loggerheads’ in the Hunter had gone into a Tyrrell’s special release gamay – that was, until Miranda Kerr purchased the property in 2020. The ‘Loggerheads’ story goes against the grain of the rising popularity of the variety elsewhere, with producer numbers having roughly doubled since 2019. (Although it’s worth noting here that plantings of the variety are still small enough that harvest weights are not currently recorded in Wine Australia’s official annual vintage reports, instead being captured by the somewhat ignominious ‘other red varieties’ heading.)
Dutch-Australian winemaker Jean-Paul Trijsburg was drawn to gamay for the same reason many others make it – because he likes to drink it. “I’ve always loved lighter reds and elegant reds – I think that’s always what I’ve been drawn to,” he says. “If you even see my wines that are bigger and bolder, they still have an elegance to them – in a way, I follow the rule that, in my winery, I make wines that I like. That’s why I came to gamay – it was an obvious choice.” While Trijsburg loves the variety and the wines it makes, he cannot grow it in his own vineyard near Ballarat, so he has to source it from elsewhere: “It’s actually a little bit too cold for gamay where I am,” he says. “So this comes from a friend’s place in the Strathbogie Ranges. He had a bit of spare fruit and I said, ‘Absolutely, please bring it on’.”
“Normally I use a bit of a whole-bunch. I love the crunch that it gives. I don’t do a full carbonic, like some of the places do in Beaujolais.”
When it comes to making wine from gamay, Trijsburg gears the process towards accessibility: “Normally I use a bit of a whole-bunch,” he says. “I love the crunch that it gives. I don’t do a full carbonic, like some of the places do in Beaujolais. I use more often a smaller percentage – and it depends also a bit on the ripeness of the grapes. Winemaking is really not a recipe – like beer is, or whiskey is … you need to look at the year, especially because in this case you have some exposure to stalks. And if the stalks are just not ripe enough, then you will see that they give a lot of bitterness to it.” His solution is to do a semi-carbonic maceration, with some whole bunches at the bottom of the fermenter that are crushed under the weight of whole, destemmed berries. “Depending on how softly you have been able to de-stem, you have that initial fermentation within the berry,” he says. “It’s not the same as whole bunch, but it does give that lovely fruit forwardness that you see with carbonic maceration … it’s probably a bit more of a hybrid between Burgundian winemaking and then a bit of whole bunch and a bit of carbonic, and I find that in general gives the best results.” While Trijsburg is motivated by the end results, he argues that his approach is inherently less risky than full-carbonic. “If you look at the technicalities of carbonic maceration – I’ve seen so many go wrong,” he says. “They can go volatile, so you get this superglue kind of flavour to it – so this is a very safe method as well, to end up with a product that is lovely and has a carbonic character but has less risk of going wrong as well.”
Trijsburg sees a similarity here between his approach and the change of direction that has taken place in Beaujolais over the past three decades. “You have the Beaujolais Nouveau, but of course, it’s all about those very primary characters that are normally made of esters and components that are actually, chemically, not very stable,” he says. “I actually want to drink wine, or make a wine, that has more length in it, more life as well. So I try to make it more pinot-esque in a sense – still elegant and dry, and there will initially be some of those primary characters in it, but they disappear over time anyway. So that is definitely my aim.”
Winemaker Liam Van Pelt, who took the reins of winemaking over at the storied Ashton Hills estate as founder and winemaker Stephen George planned his retirement, came to make gamay because he saw it as a natural fit for the climate of the Adelaide Hills. “We were looking for something just to do as a sort of small-scale, cellar door release only type of wine,” he says. “A great hero variety for red wine in the Adelaide Hills is syrah, but I didn’t feel like that fit the Ashton Hills story and style – as much as I love drinking syrah!” Looking for a lighter alternative to syrah, he dialled in on gamay. “When you look at the Adelaide Hills, in terms of varieties that we think are suitable, gamay was increasing in popularity,” he says. “So there’s been a fairly big uptake in planting of gamay across the Hills – it really suits the climate and the region well. And, depending on how you make it, it can offer a very similar drinking style to pinot – so it can be really bright and fruity, and fresh and vibrant. You can use a little bit of whole-bunch and to add that sort of stemmy structure and spice to the wine. If you’re game, you can use a little bit of carbonic maceration to really, you know, get that nose to pop.”
Van Pelt takes a similar approach to the use of whole bunches and carbonic maceration as Trijsburg, varying the proportion of whole bunches and whole berries depending on the characteristics of the fruit that he gets each year, and remaining acutely aware of the possibility of volatile acidity from carbonic maceration: “Locked up for about ten to twelve days is kind of the ideal – probably not much past fourteen,” he says. “Nothing good happens after fourteen days – that’s where you get into danger territory.” He also adds some clonal diversity into the mix, sourcing two separate clones to add complexity to the finished wine. “We source from the same vineyard two different clones,” he says. “The majority is BGW19, and that seems to be the clone that offers a bit more sort of body, fruit depth and density to the wine. And then most years we get a small amount of the 222 clone, and that seems to be the one that has a more floral aromatic profile to it, and less of the fruit intensity and structure.” (Owing to the risk of volatility, he only uses BGW19 fruit for the carbonic portions, and makes the 222 portion of the final blend in a more straightforward manner.)
“It’s a bit more disease resistant than pinot, and doesn’t fall over on a sneeze like pinot does. I think for something that offers a similar style to pinot, it’s much safer and easier to grow.”
Somewhat ironically, given that he’s the winemaker now responsible for the wine that arguably showed the wider Australian wine world what Adelaide Hills pinot noir could do, Van Pelt sees gamay as a better fit for most areas of the Hills than pinot. “Pinot’s a princess at the best of times,” he says, referring to its famous viticultural difficulty. “I do think that if you’re not in the Piccadilly Valley, and to a lesser extent Lenswood, then your table pinot is less likely to be very good. It’s probably just a bit too warm for pinot in those lower-lying, warmer areas … syrah is far better suited in those parts, or the Italian varieties, sangiovese and those sorts of things.” (He acknowledges that working with one of the most-lauded pinot noir vineyards in Australia means that he has a unique perspective on this matter: “Luckily for us at Ashton Hills, we are blessed with a beautiful site that does tend to turn out a pretty good pinot,” he says. “So it’s a bit harsh to say that the rest of Adelaide Hills is rubbish.”) He thinks of gamay, by contrast to pinot, as, in his words, “a lot more bulletproof on the vine”. “It’s a bit more disease resistant than pinot, and doesn’t fall over on a sneeze like pinot does,” he says. “I think for something that offers a similar style to pinot, it’s much safer and easier to grow. There’s a lot of benefits for the growers that are sick of growing pinot.” That rude health, while beneficial, can bring its own challenges: “It crops extraordinarily well, which is something that has to be managed two or three times a growing season in terms of crop thinning to get the crop down,” he says. “Otherwise it just crops like an absolute motherf**ker. So the grower needs to be committed to delivering quality over quantity.”
For Van Pelt, the viticultural advantages of gamay over pinot in the Hills’ warmer pockets makes it a no-brainer for growers. “Imagine being a pinot grower [in one of the warmer parts of the Hills] … you’ve struggled your whole year to get this fickle variety over the line, and it’s just not that good,” he says. “You could substitute that out with gamay that can be in a twenty-five to thirty dollar product, but it’s delightfully drinkable. The consumer wants it. It hasn’t cost you an arm and a leg to grow it, and it hasn’t been as agonising … it’s win-win for the winery or winemaker and win-win for the grower, as far as I’m concerned, in terms what we’re delivering to the consumer.” He argues that growers are cottoning onto gamay’s charms and virtues, despite the seemingly bottomless demand for pinot noir in the Australian wine marketplace. “There has been a real uptake from growers in planting it,” he says. “It does seem to be really well suited to our cool-ish climate – you know, even in the warmer sites of the Hills, it’s still cool-ish.” He sees the quality in the finished product, too. “The gamays that are coming out from the producers in the hills all are really good,” he says. “The ones that I’ve seen are really good representations of the variety – and all offer something a little bit different.”
“Gamay’s delightfully drinkable. The consumer wants it. It doesn’t cost you an arm and a leg to grow it, and it isn’t as agonising to grow as pinot. It’s win-win for the winery or winemaker, and win-win for the grower in terms of what we’re delivering to the consumer.”
It’s a sentiment that Jean-Paul Trijsburg echoes. “Pinot noir and chardonnay – those two varieties are definitely very sensitive, and we’re already seeing climate change now just wreaking havoc on lots of places,” he says. “We just had a lot of frost in France recently, and here we had some hail events – Eastern Peake got hail, Macedon got some hail as well. There’s some really brutal events that have happened owing to unpredictability in terms of climate and weather. I think that gamay is a good option, because it’s just a little bit hardier than pinot, with looser bunches, and therefore it can cope with a little bit more heat, while still producing that lightness that people look for.” While he’s bullish about the future of the variety, he doesn’t think that growers should necessarily rip out their pinot and rush to replace it with gamay. “I don’t think it will ever be a replacement for pinot noir,” he says. “I’m not sure if it’s the nobility of the pinot, or just what we have seen so far in Australia – but definitely we need to be creative. And we need to make sure that we plant grape varieties that are suited to the climate of tomorrow, not of today.” (Trijsburg’s own gamay fruit comes from older shiraz vines that have been grafted over to gamay – something that not only helps thin the crop, therefore boosting concentration in the finished wines, but also might act as a model for grape growers grappling with the structural oversupply of shiraz fruit, which he argues is something “we just can’t trade ourselves out of”.)
“Gamay can also still be quite affordable, because you can actually crop at reasonable levels and still get a decent wine out of it. It won’t be comparable with Burgundy – but, let’s face it, Burgundy is ridiculously expensive.”
Gamay’s ability to crop well while maintaining quality – if carefully managed – also makes it suited to the current economic climate. “It can also still be quite affordable, because you can actually crop at reasonable levels and still get a decent wine out of it,” Trijsburg says. “It won’t be comparable with grand cru Burgundy – but, let’s face it, I can’t remember the last time that I had a grand cru Burgundy because they’re so ridiculously expensive.” He tweaks his winemaking to keep the price affordable: “I find price-to-quality very important,” he says. “That price point, around thirty-three dollars retail – I think that’s a very reasonable price for a wine of this quality. I don’t use a lot of new oak – there’s actually no new oak in it. First of all, that’s to show the wine as it is in a more raw form – I’m not masking it by a lot of oak. But it’s also to reduce the cost of producing it, and therefore also the cost for the end consumer.” For that reason alone, he’s certain that the variety has a rosy history in front of it. “Gamay definitely will be a more mainstream variety,” he says. “It already is a more mainstream variety than it was, say, five years ago. I think it definitely will keep on growing, and I think that the spot on the shelves for it will get only bigger.”
Our panel: Oliver Rapson, proprietor and winemaker, Lyons Will Estate; Indra Nadeson, winemaker, Lethbridge; Howard Stamp, proprietor and wine buyer, Bar Thyme; Callie Jemmeson, winemaker, Pacha Mama; Graeme Critchley, wine retailer, Toorak Cellars; Hélène Laffitte, sales representative, Imbibo; Jordan Veltheer, wine educator, Vino Champ; Sez Robinson, sommelier, Cumulus Inc.
Stamp commenced the discussion by observing the diversity in the lineup. “A super-wide range – so many different styles, and so many things going on, which is awesome, and really nice to see,” he said. “You had your aged wines, you had some showing tertiary characters, you had some where you could see they’d spent time in barrel. Then you had your fresh wines, there’s some of those with high acid, some with low acid, a few with carbonic maceration, but not all – which was also nice to see. It’s a good cross-section of all the winemaking techniques.” He added that, given the importance of Beaujolais to the natural wine movement worldwide, he was surprised by how few of the wines seemed obviously or self-consciously ‘natural’: “I imagine I only could pick two or three from the line-up as as being the ‘natural’ wines,” he said. “I imagine there were a lot more there. But there was so much going on – and all were delicious. A few I didn’t love, but nothing where I was like, ‘Oh, that was terrible’.”
Laffitte likewise saw diversity in the line-up, but argued that the range of winemaking techniques deployed was somewhat narrow. “I was a little bit disappointed in maybe not having so much versatility in style,” she said. “The quality was there, but I thought I was going to get more carbonic, or semi-carbonic. They mostly looked pretty similar winemaking-wise – except the ones that were really leaning into new oak – fermented dry, classic winemaking, no carbonic maceration at all.” She added, “I think I was expecting a few more crunchy, vibrant wines, and there weren’t that many. Not like Beaujolais Nouveau, but leaning that way. I felt like the makers were saying, ‘Oh yeah, it’s gamay, but maybe we don’t want to go too far with it’.”
“I was expecting a few more crunchy, vibrant wines, and there weren’t that many. Not like Beaujolais Nouveau, but leaning that way. I felt like the makers were saying, ‘Oh yeah, it’s gamay, but maybe we don’t want to go too far with it’.”
For Robinson, the relative lack in the line-up of ultra-fruity wines with clear carbonic influence spoke to a growing commitment to the variety from Australia’s makers. “It’s kind of nice that people have decided to take it a lot more seriously,” she said. “There’s a time and a place for Beaujolais nouveau, and everyone loves it – it’s a crushable style of wine – but I think it’s nice that people are actually not just conforming to that style of gamay. They’re taking it a lot more seriously and trying to give it a sense of place within Australia – rather than just, like, ‘I’ll sit by the beach and just drink strawberry sugar-water’. Which I love – but maybe not all the time.” She added, “I feel like there were so many examples that we got today where I was like, ‘Ooh, this with some beautiful braised duck? I can see this wine being in a restaurant, and me paying good money to be able to drink this wine and eat good food.’ And I think it’s a real pleasure to actually have that.”
Rapson argued that taking gamay more seriously also meant that the wines would be more financially sustainable for makers to produce. “The challenge with Nouveau wines is that they’re cheap and approachable, right?” he said. “And that doesn’t make any money for the grape-grower or the winemaker. But if you’re making a more serious wine – and there were actually a couple of versions that were in that vein – all of a sudden you’re competing in pinot territory. And therefore the remuneration for the winemaker, or the viticulturist, or the wine label, is much bigger.” He saw a parallel here to recent changes in the landscape in Beaujolais: “It’s kind of like the transition of Beaujolais in the last fifteen to twenty years, away from the grandparents to the kids,” he said. “They’ve actually shifted away from the Nouveau style to lots of different small houses, and they’ve become a lot more serious. They’ve actually ramped up the value, and the price, of Beaujolais in general. So I think there’s an interesting recognition in the Australian market that actually gamay can be – well, maybe not for serious pinot people, but getting up in that vicinity. And therefore that allows wine labels to be able to push the agenda a bit further on that product.”
“The challenge with Nouveau wines is that they’re cheap and approachable, right? And that doesn’t make any money for the grape-grower or the winemaker.”
Nadeson argued that this shift was a case of, in her words, “winemakers meeting people where they’re drinking”. “People are moving to lighter styles of wine, but they don’t want to throw the baby out with the bathwater,” she said. “They still want that power and structure and fruit weight, but in that kind of light, quite enjoyable – and I think these are really enjoyable – form.” She added that, to her mind, gamay is a variety that requires attention and flexibility in the winery to achieve consistent results year-on-year: “We’ve probably been making it at Lethbridge for four or five years, and I think we’re always playing with technique,” she said. “Really, every vintage seems to need something different to make the kind of wine that we want. So some years that’ll be full carbonic, some years it’ll be partial carbonic, and then other times we just kind of make it like a pinot to get what we want … I’m sure a lot of these producers making these wines see that it’s a big learning curve, because when you’re bringing techniques like carbonic maceration into the mix – things that you’re not necessarily using for a lot of varieties – working out how that best plays in a certain year is definitely a big part of it.”
Jemmeson agreed with Nadeson on this point, and shared one of her learning experiences with the variety. “I’ve only made it maybe two or three years now, and one, a couple of years back, was 100% carbonic,” she said. “It was one of those years – the bunches had ripened up really beautifully, the tannins were really great. So we were like, ‘Cool, let’s do the whole thing carbonic’. But then it got a bit of volatile acidity, so we had to press it off early, and it was almost rosé-esque. So we threw some pressed shiraz skins back in on top, and played around with that. Fortunately it came out awesome – really fun.” She added, “I’ve always thought of it as a variety that’s fun – and when I say ‘fun’, I don’t always mean that it’s not serious. I think that there can be perfume, and spice, and structure, and it can look beautiful and elegant, and there’s this finesse. But for me, I still find it really enjoyable, when it’s done really well and it brings all those elements together.”
“I've always thought of it as a variety that’s fun – and when I say ‘fun’, I don’t always mean that it’s not serious. I think that there can be perfume, and spice, and structure, and it can look beautiful and elegant, and there’s this finesse.”
Veltheer argued that the variety lent itself to social drinking, rather than introspection. “Some were bright and easy, others were brooding and complex – but every single one, I’d happily share with friends,” he said. “And that kind of winemaking is actually harder to pull off than it sounds. Today just confirmed what I already knew: gamay is party wine, and everyone loves a party. It’s a good time in a bottle that can be whatever you want it to be – simple and fun on a school night, or structured and serious enough to make you sit up and scratch your head.” He added that this aspect, as well as its viticultural flexibility, made it a variety with a bright future in Australia: “They say everyone is gravitating towards wines that are more fun and easy to drink, and gamay fits the moment perfectly,” he said. “Also when we consider that gamay is more adaptable than similar varieties as things warm up – as well as changing market trends and drinking culture shifting towards lighter, more joyful wines – everything is looking great for gamay.”
Critchley likewise emphasised the variety’s inherently social – and shareable – nature. “Gamay is a wine to drink with friends – sitting at a table, bottle’s in the middle, just drink it with your friends,” he said. “I think people are pretty genuinely excited about gamay. They’re excited to try it – every time we’ve poured Beaujolais, even cru Beaujolais, people get really excited about it. I think that it really does offer that higher value at a lower price point than pinot – a lot of the pinot you get now is starting to get to a point where it’s maybe not worth the money that you have to charge for it. That means there’s an opportunity for gamay to slide in and maybe eat a little bit of pinot’s lunch, to use a turn of phrase – which would be awesome for the Australian market in terms of diversity of varieties.”
Critchley wrapped up the discussion by observing that the gamay industry here is only in its infancy – which means that the best is still to come: “You’ve got a country the size of Australia and no restrictions on where you can plant it, as such – it’s going to take a bit of time to figure out where the best places to plant gamay in Australia are,” he said. “But I reckon once we do, it’ll be pretty bloody good.”
Oliver Rapson was born in London, England, and spent his childhood moving between counties in the Americas and Africa while his parents worked in the petro/eum industry, before the family settled in Western Australia. His first career was in digital advertising, where he became the director of his own UK-based agency by the age of twenty-eight. After ten years of living abroad he decided to retum to Australia and settled in Welbourne, where he met his wife and best friend, Renata. Inspired by a bottle of 1996 Moss Wood Chardonnay, he enrolled in the viticulture night course at NMIT, studying through the night and working in advertising dunng the day while chasing the dream of purchasing his own vineyard. In the summer of 2013, he and Renata finally settled on what what is now Lyons Will Estate in the Macedon Ranges. He completed his viticulture certificate in 2014 and worked hand in hand with mentor and friend Shaun Crinion of Dappled for three vintages, honing his winemaking skills and developing his own style. Since then, he has travelled to many regions, taking inspiration from winemakers far and wide. He is currently heavily involved in the Macedon Ranges Vignerons Association.
Indra Nadeson is a winemaker at Lethbridge.
Howard Stamp is the proprietor, wine buyer, and executive chef at Bar Thyme in Footscray.
Callie Jemmeson grew up with wine in the blood, with her interest in wine from a very young age sparked by family holidays to Chianti in Italy and tastings at Louis Roederer in France. Having studied psychology and criminology at Melbourne University and qualifying as a chef, it was the lure of wine and more so vineyards that she just couldn’t resist. She started her winemaking journey with a casual vintage position at De Bortoll’s Yarra Valley operation, and impressed enough to be asked to stay on as the lab manager. A vintage at Ted Lemon’s Littorai in California followed while she finished her winemaking qualifications at Charles Sturt University, followed by others in Emilia-Romagna in northern Italy and France’s Rhône Valley, plus travel to many more wine producing regions throughout the US and Europe. She is currently the winemaker and brand ambassador for Pacha Mama and Cloak & Dagger, two wine labels she co-founded and still leads under their new ownership at Joval Family Wines. She was a finalist in the 2023 Young Gun of Wine Awards, a finalist in the 2018 Women in Wine Awards, and is an alumnus of the 2025 Wine Australia Future Leaders Program.
Graeme Critchley is a wine merchant at Toorak Cellars.
Hélène Lafitte grew up in Marseille and moved to Australia in her teens to study agriculture, eventually specialising in wine. With hands-on experience in French wine regions including Languedoc, Chablis, and Jura, she developed a deep passion for biodynamic farming and telling its story through wine. After a decade in Melbourne’s wine scene – working in sales and purchasing for importers and restaurant groups – she now represents leading Australian wine distributor imbibo. She spends her time celebrating the origins, land, and labour behind every bottle of wine.
Jordan Veltheer has spent his entire working life around wine, from restaurants and retail to cellar doors, private appointment sales, and a vintage in the Yarra, covering every comer of the industry since he was nineteen. A Wine & Spirit Education Trust Level 3 Award in Wines graduate, he runs Vino Champ, an Instagram wine education page dedicated to Australian wine, and Club Vino, a monthly social club helping everyday Australians (eam how to navigate and buy better wine. His passion is Australian wine, full stop, and he is on a mission to tell its story.
Sez Robinson grew up in beautiful Aotearoa New Zealand before moving to Melbourne in 2023. With a passion for hospitality and a deep love for wine, she’s worked through pubs and restaurants around Melboume until finally settling at Cumulus Inc. on Flinders Lane. Here she works as a sommelier, guiding guests through food and wine of provenance.
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