In our latest Deep Dive, we gathered every Australian vermouth we could find, along with a panel of industry specialists to see what makes this new wave of Australian vermouth just so very compelling.
Our panel: Coralie Gelot, Beverage Manager, The Windsor Hotel Group; Gilles Lapalus, owner and winemaker Maison Lapalus, Bertrand Bespoke and Maidenii; Adam Castagna, Winemaker, Castagna; Cara Devine, Bar Manager Bomba Bar; Dave Verheul, owner/chef at Embla, and owner/maker at Saison Aperitifs; Jess Clayfield manager, Black Kite Commune; Teandra Tuhkunen, Ambassador, Never Never Distilling Co.
We set our expert panel the tasks of finding the wines that compelled the most. All wines were tasted blind, and each panellist named their top six wines. Below are the top wines from the tasting.
Selected by Verheul, Devine, Tuhkunen, and Gelot in their top-six wines from the blind tasting, this bold and unapologetic vermouth captivates with its intensity and complexity. Devine described it as reminiscent of “a spice shop overflowing with turmeric, galangal, and lime leaf,” balanced by “a juicy sweetness on the palate and an intense bitterness towards the finish.” She praised it as “a star of the show,” perfect for a simple Spritz. Gelot found it akin to “an amaro rather than a vermouth,” highlighting “pine needles, sap, bitter orange, quinine, gentian, and wormwood,” along with “amazing umami notes of kombu seaweed, soy sauce, and olive brine” that developed with air. Verheul, meanwhile, likened it to “a wine-based rabarbaro” with “aged natty oxidisation on the nose, a sweet start, and a bitter dry finish,” supported by layers of “rhubarb root, gentian, and chicory root.” He acknowledged it as “not an entry-level vermouth” but a compelling choice for bitter-drink enthusiasts. Tuhkunen drew a parallel to a “sunburnt orange sunset,” describing its aromas of “bush tomatoes, chillies, smoked paprika, fresh capsicum, oregano, white pepper, and cacao nibs.” On the palate, she noted “freshness and zippiness” with “paprika, chilli, cumin, and cayenne,” balanced by sweetness and a “well-integrated bitterness on the back palate.” Tuhkunen celebrated its “fun funkiness and unapologetic flavour intensity,” recommending it both as “an over-ice delight” and in “bold, savoury cocktails,” paired with “Italian bread and spicy dips or Amatriciana pasta.”
Selected by Tuhkunen, Devine, Gelot, and Castagna in their top-six wines from the blind tasting, this vibrant and versatile vermouth captivated with its complex aromas and flavours. Devine praised its “chewy, marmalade nose” and “bright, bracing palate loaded with citrus pith,” admiring the “perfect medium body” that allows it to “drink well on ice or stand up in mixed drinks.” She recommended it as a lighter, citrus-driven alternative in red vermouth cocktails, envisioning a “Mezcal White Negroni” as the perfect pairing. Castagna celebrated its “pectin bitterness” and aromas of “apple peel and crunchy green pear flesh,” describing the palate as “berry compote juiciness, bitter but gently so,” and expressed excitement about its potential in Australian cocktail bars. Gelot admired its golden, slightly cloudy appearance, calling it “as pretty as it tastes,” and likened its flavours to “leatherwood honey, alpine herbs, citrus peel, and pink grapefruit,” evoking the smell of “Kunzea flowers and Australian bush on a hot summer day.” He suggested pairing it with “lemon tart or pavlova,” or even skipping dessert altogether in favour of this vermouth. Tuhkunen was drawn to its “rich and opulent aromas of overripe tropical fruits, honeysuckle, cantaloupe, and orange blossoms,” balanced by “subtle minerality and hay-like qualities.” On the palate, she found “purity from sunflower and honeysuckle,” with a weighty viscosity balanced by bright acidity and a “restrained bitterness” that added depth. Tuhkunen recommended enjoying it with “soft cheese after a meal” or incorporating it into a “White Negroni with a bold gin” to showcase its versatility.
Selected by Clayfield, Castagna, and Devine in their top-six wines from the blind tasting, this vibrant and versatile vermouth showcases a masterful balance of flavour and texture. Castagna described it as offering “all flavour profiles I love, with warming cedar heat tempered by delicate floral notes and divine bitterness.” He highlighted “citron and bergamot fruit and leaves,” praising the “beautifully balanced acid” and calling it “a pleasure to drink—perfect with tonic and ice on a veranda at sunset.” Devine appreciated its “textural, unfiltered character,” leaning into “riper stone fruit flavours with lots of herbal interest and a gentle bitterness.” She noted how the “wine base really shone” and recommended sipping it solo with “a bowl of olives or some tinned fish on a sunny day.” Clayfield found it “invigorating and energetic,” with hallmark vermouth qualities elevated by “an incredible balance of bitterness” that “preserves the integrity of flavour.” She admired the aromas and palate for their “strong notes of provincial herbs, sun-warmed wormwood, dusky sweet herbs, and fruity characters,” enhanced by “wafts of chamomile and rose.” Clayfield concluded that the vermouth is “floral without muskiness, herbaceous without forceful bitterness,” and effortlessly polished in its execution.
Selected by Clayfield, Lapalus, and Devine in their top-six wines from the blind tasting, this vermouth delighted with its harmony of fruit, spice, and florals. Devine likened it to “walking into an artisanal bakery,” with “soft florals and brioche on the nose leading into baking spice, marzipan, and juicy fruit on the palate.” She highlighted a “gingerbread note” that would pair wonderfully with whisky or rum in a Manhattan twist. Lapalus noted its “soft orange colour” and a nose evocative of “spice and incense (myrrh/frankincense).” On the palate, he found a “delicate sweetness balanced by bitterness and acidity,” with floral citrus notes reminiscent of lollies. Clayfield celebrated its harmony, praising the “pleasing blush pink colour” and “strawberries and cream complemented by white florals, dried herbs, orchard fruits, and red berries.” He noted a “zip of acidity” and how subtle wormwood “supports and lifts the flavours,” calling it a “joyful and exceptionally well-executed rosé vermouth.”
This standout vermouth, chosen by Gelot, Tuhkunen, and Verheul in their top-six selections, impressed with its boldness and complexity. Gelot called it “a timeless vermouth,” with a balance of “sweetness, bitterness, and acidity” reminiscent of Amaro Alpino, with “wormwood, pine sap, gentian, sage, and cinchona.” He recommended it “on the rocks with a slice of orange or in a Negroni.” Verheul found it “bordering on an amaro,” with “heavy notes of rhubarb root, myrrh, frankincense, and orris,” praising the integration of alcohol and spice. Tuhkunen admired its “pale ruby colour” and aromas of “bitter oranges, almonds, orange blossoms, fennel, and thyme.” On the palate, she highlighted the “bold bitterness balanced by rich sweetness” with “berry and red apple skin.” She concluded it was a “vermouth that keeps on giving,” perfect for a Negroni or an Americano.
Chosen by Lapalus, Verheul, and Tuhkunen in their top-six, this pale lemon vermouth delivered an aromatic and versatile profile. Lapalus described its “intense nose dominated by angelica root, myrrh, frankincense, and white pepper,” balanced on the palate by “light bitterness, acidity, and spirit presence.” Verheul enjoyed its “off-dry nature” with “clean citrus and heavily spiced nose,” finding it delicate in the glass with “orris and bush spice” and ideal for a vermouth soda. Tuhkunen called it “the quintessential vermouth,” with aromas of “clean straw, meadow grass after rain, and wildflowers,” alongside “green anise and wormwood.” She praised its “bouncy acidity” and how it “stood up beautifully in a Martini,” pairing effortlessly with gin.
Selected by Verheul and Lapalus in their top-six wines during the blind tasting, this vermouth charmed with its Southern Italian summer vibe. Verheul described it as tasting “like being in the south of Italy on a summer’s day,” with a “clear line from the wine base to light lemon and oregano notes” and “beautifully spiced hints of cassia and orris.” He admired its “grip and bitterness,” which kept him returning for more. Lapalus noted its “bright lemon-yellow colour” and “herbal notes dominated by wormwood,” calling it “refreshing with a medium-dry palate, piercing acidity, and light bitterness.” He suggested enjoying it as a long drink or in cocktails.
This unique vermouth was selected by Gelot and Castagna in their top-six wines during the blind tasting for its bold and unexpected character. Castagna exclaimed, “Damn, I wasn’t expecting this!” He celebrated its “vegetal and herbaceous nose” alongside root-based bitterness that brought him to “existential heaven.” He envisioned it as a “dirty wet martini” ingredient with jalapeños or pickle juice. Gelot, similarly impressed, called it a “spicy little number” with perfect balance between “sweet, savoury, and bitter.” He highlighted “cinnamon bark, clove, and Christmas pudding” notes and recommended it on ice with a splash of soda and a sprig of rosemary.
Chosen by Castagna and Gelot in their top-six wines during the blind tasting, this vermouth dazzled with its bold flavours and striking colour. Castagna described “big, glorious hits of rose and hibiscus flowers” on the nose, with “Turkish delight and pistachio skin” tannins on the palate. He praised its balance as “gentle but not weak, soft with a hint of heated passion.” Gelot loved its blush pink hue, reminiscent of “Touraine Rosé,” and its nose of “rose petals, poached rhubarb, candy apple, and juicy strawberries.” She admired its “acidity and bitterness” and recommended it on ice or in a spritz.
Lapalus selected this vermouth as his top wine from the blind tasting, praising its “deep golden colour” and “intense herbal aromas with notes of anise, fennel, and rose petal.” On the palate, he found it “creamy in texture with a good bitter finish,” calling it a “great aperitif or mixing option for Martinis.”
Selected by Devine and Tuhkunen in their top-six wines during the blind tasting, this vermouth shone as a delicate and versatile example of the style. Devine described its “Turkish delight nose with rose petal florals,” paired with a “silky sweetness, bright grapefruit pith finish, and lifted, fun character.” She suggested using it in a Martinez. Tuhkunen celebrated its “luxurious nose of frangipani cakes, baking spices, and cherry-ripe chocolates,” with a palate of “raspberry, mulberry, and blood plums” alongside a hint of cacao nibs. She noted its versatility, recommending it with festive dishes like Christmas pudding or honeyed ham, or simply on ice with an orange slice.
Castagna selected this vermouth in his top-six wines during the blind tasting, celebrating its earthy and herbal complexity. He likened it to “Sunday sessions with mates,” with aromas of “hemp, forest floor, and wild herbal notes.” The palate, he noted, was “fruity without being overly so,” with bitterness reminiscent of “slightly unripe stone fruit.” Castagna declared it “an eye-opener” and envisioned using it both as a digestif and in cocktails.
Selected by Verheul and Gelot in their top-six wines during the blind tasting, this vermouth impressed with its balance and layered complexity. Gelot noted its “medicinal and savoury nose” contrasted by a palate of “rhubarb and stewed wild berries that are sweet and tart at the same time, with lemon pith and peel bringing a soft bitterness.” He appreciated its “vinous quality” and touch of tannin, adding depth. Verheul admired its “very sweet and good texture,” highlighting “candied strawberries, strawberry gum, and angelica notes” with an “almost red melon-like alkalinity” that transitioned into “controlled smoky bush spices and a gently fruity finish.”
Chosen by Clayfield in her top-six wines during the blind tasting, this vermouth made an impact with its bold and unapologetic character. Clayfield described its “leathery honey and sherry-like quality” on the nose, which “draws you in expecting sweetness, only to surprise with something lively and unexpected.” She highlighted notes of “raisin, aromatic woods, dusky cassia, and older subdued baking spices,” evoking the comforting feeling of “stepping into someone’s home.” A “crunchy pastry note” added charm, and while she acknowledged it might not suit all palates, she celebrated its uniqueness and individuality.
Selected by Castagna, Lapalus, and Devine in their top-six wines during the blind tasting, this vermouth impressed with its harmonious and calming complexity. Castagna found it “beautifully put together,” highlighting “jasmine tea, black tea, and matcha on the nose” with bitterness and tannin “flowing smoothly together.” Devine praised its “juicy fruit presence, well-framed botanicals, and pleasantly bitter finish,” noting that “native plants add interest without being domineering,” perfect for adding an Aussie twist to classic cocktails. Lapalus appreciated its “evolved colour and Sherry-style amontillado nose,” with a palate showcasing a “sweet/bitter balance” and suggested pairing it with a chocolate dessert or enjoying it as a digestif.
Selected by Clayfield in her top-six wines during the blind tasting, this vermouth captivated with its coastal-inspired character. Clayfield described it as “unexpected and boundary-pushing,” with aromas that transported her to “a rockpool on a sunny day.” She noted a gust of “salinity and fresh ocean air” alongside “bitter citrus, red currants, dried fruits, sweet pastry, olive, and wormwood.” Clayfield celebrated its “complexity and flamboyance,” attributing it to the experimental spirit of Australian vermouth.
Chosen by Clayfield in her top-six wines during the blind tasting, this vermouth stood out for its layered and lingering complexity. She noted “sticky warm fruit notes” evolving into “nuanced aromatic woods, reminiscent of incense,” with an “amber-peach colour” evoking “overripe orchard fruits and quandong.” She praised its balance of fruit and wormwood, which “prevent woody spices from becoming overwhelming,” calling it a “musky, secret vermouth unearthed from an old cellar.”
Selected by Lapalus in his top-six wines during the blind tasting, this Rosso vermouth delivered a classic profile with an Australian twist. He described its “intense dark red colour with a garnet hue” and a nose of “pepper, poppy, and cinnamon.” The palate offered a “sweet attack balanced by bitterness,” with aromas of spice and “a cacao finish.” Lapalus recommended it as “a mixer with whisky or rum.”
Chosen by Verheul in his top-six wines during the blind tasting, this Rosé vermouth offered a balance of sweetness and classic bittering roots. Verheul described it as “very sweet but natural, not saccharine,” with a “red wine base that still shines through.” He highlighted “bush spices and long light red fruits,” calling it “an easygoing gateway vermouth” perfect on ice with an orange wedge.
Selected by Tuhkunen in her top-six wines during the blind tasting, this vermouth impressed with its complexity and elegance. She noted “fresh notes of yuzu and gooseberry” with a “Meyer lemon curd undertone,” complemented by “cinnamon, wood, and baking spices.” On the palate, she found “gooseberry and woody baking spices dominating,” with a “soft bitterness” and a texture that was “supple yet fresh.” Tuhkunen recommended it alone or in a Spritz or Highball for its polished and bright character.
Chosen by Clayfield in her top-six wines during the blind tasting, this bold and considered Rosso-style vermouth delivered abundant fruit flavours. Clayfield noted “big blackberries and cassis on the aroma,” matched by “warm spices and resinous wormwood” that balanced the palate. She appreciated how the wine’s character “elevates the flavour and texture,” calling it “brazen and unabashed, yet carefully crafted.”
Vermouth is simply a wine that has a bittering extract from plants in the Artemisia family added to it – typically along with a range of herbs and spices to build aromas and to complex that bitterness – and is fortified with spirit to no more than 21 per cent alcohol by volume.
Artemisia is a large group of plants, including tarragon, with most having intense aromatic and often bitter characteristics. To be called vermouth, EU regulations state that plants of the Artemisia genus must be used as bittering agents, but not necessarily Artemisia absinthium, or wormwood, which is the most famous and most commonly used. Other bitter herbs, roots and barks are also employed, including cinchona bark (originally responsible for that quinine flavour in tonic water) and gentian roots and flowers.
In aromatised wines where cinchona takes the lead, the term “Quinquina” can be used, while those that lean more heavily on gentian can employ the moniker “Americano”, but as these variations also contain artemisia, of one type or another, they are still both classified as vermouth.
While artemisia has been infused into wine and other substances since ancient times, vermouth as we know it is thought to have evolved out of a German tradition.
Wormwode is the Middle English name for the wormwood plant and the Germans call it wermutkraut, which ends up simply being wermut as an abbreviation for both the plant and a traditional fortified wine that was infused with it. It’s not hard to see that the French word vermouth is not so distant a relative, even less so the Italian vermut.
In the late 1700s, French and Italian merchants familiar with those infused German wines began making their own interpretations.
It’s perhaps unsurprising that the centres for vermouth production happened to evolve near to the centres of the spice trade, which were in Genoa in Liguria, Italy, and in Marseille, France. The first known Italian vermouths, which precede the French versions, were made in Piedmont’s (Liguria’s neighbour) capital, Turin, by Antonio Carpano, as well as by Carlo and Giacomo Cinzano, who were confectioners – then a skill that also encompassed the arts of making spirits and liqueurs.
Carpano is credited with making the first modern vermouth in 1786, though some point to the Cinzano brothers as being the first, in 1757. However, that date corresponds to the founding of their shop, and not necessarily when they developed their iconic red vermouth – a style that is widely accepted as their innovation.
Regardless of who was first, Turin became the hub for sweet vermouth, while not far across the border, the French developed a specialisation for bitter dry vermouth, such as with Dolin in Chambéray, while further south in Marseille, Noilly Prat created their distinctive dry vermouth by leaving barrels in the sun, wind and rain for a year to develop their unique character.
As with much of the world, vermouth historically served two functions in Australia. Firstly, it was presented as a tonic, a wine dosed with healthful herbal tinctures to cure many ills, though primarily those of the digestive tract. Secondly, it gathered a new audience as cocktails gained popularity towards the end of the 19th century, then exploded into somewhat of a frenzy at the start of the 1900s and through the Roaring 20s.
In the early years of blending herbal essences with wine, various tonics and bitters were made in imitation of European examples, with the emerging local wine industry responsive to consumer trends. Fortified wine as a category was burgeoning in the late 1800s, and vermouth was very much part of that success. As table wine spiralled into an almost fatal nosedive, fortifieds, including aromatised wines, were borne aloft on the updraft.
The leading wine brands of the time – and many that endure today – such as Yalumba and Seppelt, were heavily invested in vermouth, along with a raft of botanical infusions (not to mention various simulations of Port, Sherry and the like – dry table wine being almost universally shunned).
Perhaps the medicinal properties of vermouth helped to build a bridge to its more carefree use, but by the time the 1920s were in full swing, a settled stomach was the least motivation for consumers, with frivolity and conspicuous glamour taking centrestage. But that exuberant buoyancy would not last long.
Though it’s more than a little fair to argue that vermouth was the least significant of victims, nonetheless the most unsettled period of the 20th century saw it sidelined while the Great Depression and WWII wrought global havoc.
But even the decade-long Great Depression didn’t totally quell the appetite for vermouth. F. Cinzano & Cia established a local presence a year after the infamous 1929 Wall Street Crash, building a production and storage facility on Birmingham Street in Sydney’s Alexandria, which they expanded and occupied for over 50 years. (The site is now an apartment building, with heritage-listed vestiges of the building still remaining.)
The writing, though, was on the wall. While the brutality of WWII perhaps didn’t knock the martini glasses out of the hands of the elites, it certainly didn’t see the masses restocking their cocktail trolleys.
However, when the skies brightened, vermouth rallied, becoming synonymous for many with – like a distant mirror to the 1920s – the carefree era of the 1970s. Local production was again ramped up, with brands like Angoves’ Marko and a collaboration between Yalumba and Turin-based Martini & Rossi entering the market, while the limpet-like persistence of Cinzano perhaps paid the biggest dividends, becoming the runaway commercial success of the era.
Bust follows boom, follows bust, though, and vermouth was pushed to the back of liquor cabinets, where – some years later – dusty old oxidised bottles (yes, vermouth oxidises – it is generally, though not always, made from wine that will deteriorate with exposure to air) helped many a teenager form indelibly unpleasant impressions of the stuff through illicit sips.
For many years, vermouth was almost solely a weapon in the bartender’s arsenal, typically with the faintest whiff perfuming a dry martini, then it made its presence a little more emphatically felt with the rise of the negroni, where equal parts of the holy trinity of sweet red vermouth, Campari and gin are stirred over ice. But to say that vermouth had returned solely on the back of the negroni would be misleading.
Gilles Lapalus and Shaun Byrne, a winemaker and bartender respectively, launched their Maidenii brand in 2012. “In the last eight years of making vermouth,” says LapaIus. “I think we have come a long way. From the grandma drink left to collect dust, to aperitif hour where negroni is king, and now more and more where it is embraced as a standalone option.”
Indeed, the latest instalment in the vermouth renaissance is very much also built on the appreciation for the aromatised wine’s singular properties, rather than solely in combination with spirit, liqueurs or mixers. That approach is very much a European one, as while the Italians, French and Spanish, for example, happily shake, stir and build vermouth with other liquids, they also favour drinking it neat, albeit often chilled.
Lapalus originally hails from Burgundy, France, however his cues for making vermouth were very much local ones. Driven very much by a winemaker’s sensibility of reflecting place, Lapalus primarily uses native botanicals in the Maidenii wines.
“It’s a continuation of the terroir notion,” says Lapalus. “You use what is available in your territory. What they bring is a sense of uniqueness. So many people comment on Maidenii vermouth, saying it’s like walking in the bush. This aromatic profile is very specific, with the eucalyptus in particular, but the spectrum is much wider as soon as we use the native citrus, the strawberry gum or the wattle seed, with their strong roasted component, for example.”
Dave Verhuel, head chef at Melbourne’s Embla and Lesa, takes a different angle, one that is deeply rooted in his experience as one of the country’s best chefs. “I’ve had a love affair with bitter drinks for as long as I can remember,” he says, “and this led to making vermouth to serve in the restaurant a few years back.
“I wanted to create vermouths that centred around vibrant singular ingredients, rather than blends of spices… building complexity in support of the main ingredient in a way that complements. The focus on clear flavours really sits alongside the seasonal variations I am so used to in the food world.”
For Verhuel, that approach is captured in the name of his brand, Saison, or season, and he allies the thought process of a chef building and enhancing flavours with the kitchen skills and tools at his disposal, including the furnace-hot wood-fired oven that burns at somewhere near 500°C.
“Rhubarb root, dried jasmine, blood orange zest that is smoked over the fire at Embla and then dried, lots of saffron…” says Verhuel, talking about his Fallen Quinces vermouth. “I make a few quince infusions, to get a range of flavours, and I use two types of wormwood, so you have two types of bitterness already, and then I age it over a whole lot of quinces that have been burnt in the wood oven. You’d think it would taste burnt, but it doesn’t; it adds another layer of bitterness once it ages, complementing the others, and it also adds the colour.”
David Chapman is also a chef (though he hung up his apron some years back), but he’s a trained winemaker, too, specialising in pinot noir for his Mornington Peninsula label, Allies, as well as making vermouths under the Cinq à Cept imprint. “For me, with most vermouths that I’d tasted before, the wine underneath was pretty terrible,” he says.
“It was all about the ‘recipe’, which is fine. But I wanted it to be about the wine, too. Those flavours of cherry, redcurrant, pomegranate and such that we get in our pinot, I wanted those to be part of the vermouth, and then the bitterness and spices that I add are a bit more traditional, but still subtle enough to taste the base. That’s why I put the variety on the front label.”
“It was all about the ‘recipe’, which is fine. But I wanted it to be about the wine, too. Those flavours of cherry, redcurrant, pomegranate and such that we get in our pinot, I wanted those to be part of the vermouth, and then the bitterness and spices that I add are a bit more traditional, but still subtle enough to taste the base. That’s why I put the variety on the front label.”
Lapalus agrees that the quality of the base wine is integral, but his fascination is in the endless possibility beyond it. “You still need to make a perfect wine from quality grapes,” he says, “and the addition of botanicals is the free part, as there is no limit here. I like to compare it to the perfume industry, where the number of substances you can access seems infinite, which means the composition is even more endless.”
And while Chapman is pushing wine further to the front, the experimentation that Lapalus describes is also very much a drawcard for him. “When I make wine, I don’t want there to be much of me in it,” he says. “aside from the care I take. With vermouth, I get to tinker, to make it about what I want it to taste like. I don’t get to do that with wine, and I quite like to be able to have that freedom.”
Aside from the three key elements – a wine base, artemisia and mild fortification with spirit – the canvas for those making vermouth is decidedly blank, a vast realm of possibility that is seeing Australian vermouth flourish in ever more exciting and diverse ways.
Our panel: Coralie Gelot, Beverage Manager, The Windsor Hotel Group; Gilles Lapalus, owner and winemaker, Maison Lapalus, Bertrand Bespoke, and Maidenii; Adam Castagna, Winemaker, Castagna; Cara Devine, Bar Manager, Bomba Bar; Dave Verheul, owner/chef at Embla and owner/maker at Saison Aperitifs; Jess Clayfield, Manager, Black Kite Commune; and Teandra Tuhkunen, Ambassador, Never Never Distilling Co.
“Here, when you taste, some you think, ‘Well, this one is definitely digestive, and this one is definitely a mixer, and this one stands alone as a drink on its own.’ It’s very nice to see that, and yet, they’re all called ‘vermouth.’ That’s the category, and that’s what’s confusing for the consumer.”
Jess Clayfield began by highlighting the variety showcased in the tasting. “There was a lot of variety in what we tasted. A lot of people would be like, ‘Oh, red or white – that’s it for vermouth,’ but actually, what we saw today was a large variety, which was really interesting.”
Gilles Lapalus agreed and reflected on how this diversity could be confusing for consumers. “Here, when you taste, some you think, ‘Well, this one is definitely digestive, and this one is definitely a mixer, and this one stands alone as a drink on its own.’ It’s very nice to see that, and yet, they’re all called ‘vermouth.’ That’s the category, and that’s what’s confusing for the consumer.”
Cara Devine raised a related concern about labelling and consumer education. “I was wondering about the labelling because of that. So many people know vermouth from cocktail recipes, where it’s like, ‘Red or white?’ or, ‘French or Italian?’ But there’s this whole panoply of off-dry white vermouths, some of which are really big, bold, spicy, and bitter – not what you’d expect from a delicate Dolin martini vermouth kind of vibe. I’d like to see how they’re labelled and sold to consumers because there’s maybe a need for some education around what they’re actually good for.”
“A lot of guests are looking for that right now – moving towards lower alcohol, healthier alternatives, which is great. It’s really cool to see people doing different things and to be able to offer guests something that’s lower ABV. Even for us bar staff, if a guest offers to buy us a drink for later, we’d often just have a vermouth because we want something low proof but still flavourful.”
Teandra Tuhkunen built on this, noting the clear intentions behind some vermouths and the experimental nature of others. “It’s interesting seeing the vermouths that are clearly made with intention, like, ‘Oh, this is gonna be a dry vermouth for a martini,’ or, ‘This is gonna be a sweet rosso vermouth for a Negroni,’ and then the super experimental ones that are wacky and weird. I sort of wonder, how would I tell someone to use this?”
Devine responded, “Well, you’re basically either drinking it on ice, or you’d almost have to create a cocktail around it. You couldn’t just say, ‘This is white, so I’m gonna put it in a martini!’”
Dave Verheul added that the target audience plays a big role in how these products are received. “It depends who your customer is at the end of the day. When people are into the world of bitter drinks, they seek out the interesting, the weird, and the wonderful. There were a couple of things in there that aren’t pulling punches – they’re so far leaning into that style that it’s basically a wine-based rabarbaro. These are opinionated drinks and wonderful, but not for the uninitiated.”
“When people are into the world of bitter drinks, they seek out the interesting, the weird, and the wonderful. There were a couple of things in there that aren’t pulling punches – they’re so far leaning into that style that it’s basically a wine-based rabarbaro. These are opinionated drinks and wonderful, but not for the uninitiated.”
Coralie Gelot brought a fresh perspective from outside the cocktail world. “Coming from a non-cocktail/bar background, I can see them on a wine list, more than just in cocktails. Like an aperitif: ‘What do you feel like starting your lunch with?’ or, ‘What do you feel like having after lunch or dinner?’ You could skip dessert and have a nice, different kind of drink at the end – something vermouth or amaro-esque.”
Lapalus chimed in, noting, “There were a few amaro-esque wines there.”
Gelot agreed enthusiastically. “Very amaro – very alpine. And a lot of people don’t know those. You always kind of think sweet dessert wine, but there are obviously all these options that are sweet yet kind of savoury at the same time.”
Clayfield highlighted another advantage of vermouth. “And lower ABV!” she exclaimed. “A lot of guests are looking for that right now – moving towards lower alcohol, healthier alternatives, which is great. It’s really cool to see people doing different things and to be able to offer guests something that’s lower ABV. Even for us bar staff, if a guest offers to buy us a drink for later, we’d often just have a vermouth because we want something low proof but still flavourful.”
Verheul reflected on the creative freedom Australian producers have compared to their European counterparts. “I think as the category matures and people make more and more of it… we’re really lucky in Australia where we don’t have the shackles of obligation like you do if you’re making a product like this in Italy or Spain. We’re free to make our interpretation of the category, and it’ll be nice to see how that grows. It doesn’t just have to be native botanicals either – although there are beautiful examples of that. It can also be about, ‘What is the Australian palate?’ We’re a sunny, warm country that can grow pretty much everything we want.”
Clayfield then asked if legislation might one day play a role in shaping the category. “Do you think there is a future for legislation to happen in Australia?”
“I hope not!” answered Lapalus.
Adam Castagna echoed this sentiment. “I tasted stuff today that had herbs in it that I don’t use, and because of today, I’m gonna have a look at them because, holy shit, it never even occurred to me! And if we don’t have that freedom, all of a sudden we’re all trying to make the same stuff. Why? There’s no joy in that.”
Lapalus added, “That’s the whole beauty of what we can do here. I’ve got a friend who just started making vermouth in France – he’s just pulling his hair out every week. It’s a nightmare. Thank God we just want to preserve our freedom here because that creates new products all the time. Obviously, we sometimes need to be careful because you can macerate any plant, and some are not so good for you! So there needs to be a little framing, but I see that as maybe the limit. The rest – please yourself! Otherwise, it breaks any initiative, really.”
Gilles Lapalus is originally from Burgundy, and the third generation of his family to be involved with wine. He studied oenology in Dijon. Lapalus moved to Australia in 2001 to help establish the Sutton Grange Winery, near Castlemaine. In 2011, Lapalus started to experiment with native botanicals, which led to the founding of Maidenii with Shaun Byrne. Theirs was the first vermouth to employ Australian botanicals. After leaving Sutton Grange in 2015, he started his own label, Maison Lapalus. He also co-authored ‘The Book of Vermouth’ in 2018 (Hardie Grant).
Coralie Gelot grew up in food and wine with her parents both restaurateurs in her home of France. She came to Australia in 2015 on a hospitality visa, and worked her way through varying roles around the country, from cellar doors to retail, to vintage work, and gaining her WSET Level 3 Certificate along the way. Following a role at Bibendum Wine Co, in 2022 she joined the Hotel Windsor Group where she is now Beverage Manager, responsible for wine buying and training across their venues.
Dave Verheul’s professional snowboarding and skateboarding career was scuttled by injury when he was 22, but a career as a celebrated chef took its place. Verheul has worked in some of London’s finest restaurants, as well as those in Sydney and his native New Zealand, eventually starting the Town Mouse with business partner Christian McCabe. He currently is the chef and owner of Lesa and Embla (with McCabe), while also making artisanal vermouth under his Saison label.
Jess Clayfield’s love affair of bitterness and botanicals started at a very young age and naturally lead to experiment with Australian flavours, eventually landing as a bartender Melbourne’s iconic Gin Palace. Known as the ‘Lady of Botanicals’, regularly researching botanicals down to the smallest details, she is now managing Black Kite Commune – an Australian spirits and wine bar.
Cara Devine has been working in the hospitality industry since she was 16, seriously getting into cocktail bartending about 10 years ago. She has since worked in award winning venues in Canada and Scotland before settling in Melbourne. She currently runs the rooftop cocktail bar at Bomba Tapas Bar. She is also the co-creator and presenter of Behind the Bar with Cara Devine, a YouTube channel devoted to providing education on cocktails, good booze and drinking culture.
Adam Castagna is the winemaker behind Adam’s Rib, part of the Castagna Wines stable in Beechworth, where he has spent the past 25 years mastering his craft. Beginning as a labourer building the winery and planting vines, Castagna worked his way through every role in the family business, from cellar rat to assistant winemaker, learning under the guidance of his father, Julian Castagna. Today, he helms his own label, crafting wines that embody creativity and layered complexity. A former Sydney cocktail bartender, Castagna credits this early career with shaping his understanding of flavour, a skill that has influenced his winemaking and the creation of Castagna’s celebrated vermouths. With inspiration and guidance from a mentor, Gilles, the vermouths became a standout part of the Castagna offering. Driven by a love of crafting drinks that bring people together, Castagna believes in the joy of the right drink shared with the right people in the right place—moments he strives to bottle with every vintage.
Teandra Tuhkunen is the Brand Ambassador for Never Never Distilling Co., bringing over a decade of global experience in hospitality and beverage. Tuhkunen began her career in bartending 13 years ago, rising to manage Melbourne’s iconic Gin Palace from 2018 to 2020. A move to Singapore followed, where she led the casual fine dining wine bar and restaurant Le Bon Funk. In 2022, Tuhkunen trained as a brewer and gained hands-on experience in Sweden before relocating to Canada in 2023 to serve as Group Operations Manager for a collection of natural wine venues. Recently returning to Australia, Tuhkunen now channels her expertise into her role at Never Never Distilling Co., combining her passion for drinks and hospitality with her love for storytelling and connection.
The Canberra District is firmly established as a source of elegant and spicy shiraz, racy riesling and is expanding promisingly into Italian varieties, mainly sangiovese. It is also home to pioneering plantings of grüner veltliner. Makers like Mallaluka’s Samuel Leyshon – from this year’s Top 50 – are also pushing the boundaries of experimentation, and with exciting results.
Over the past three decades, the Aylward family has been perfecting their craft of growing pinot noir across two vineyard sites in the region. We catch up with Ocean Eight winemaker Mike Aylward to discuss this notoriously finicky grape and the artistry of making wines that capture a true sense of place.
The Barossa is arguably Australia’s most revered wine region. It is the home of powerful red wines, established names making established styles, but there are also makers finding new meaning in the territory. The Barossa has been fertile ground for YGOW finalists, producing four Young Guns, Matt Gant (First Drop, 2007), Pete Schell (Spinifex, 2008), Abel Gibson (Ruggabellus, 2012) and Fraser McKinley (Sami-Odi, 2014). This year’s Top 50 includes Jonathan Ross (Micro Wines) and Steve Crawford (Frederick Stevenson).
Please sign in or create account as candidate to bookmark this job
Please sign in or create account to save this search
Please sign in or create account as candidate to create a resume
