Several years ago, I was invited to a dinner at Vasse Felix. As Blanc I, a semillon sauvignon blanc 'black label' release, was introduced by chief winemaker Virginia Willcock, an adjacent diner began to grumble. Experimentation and straying from his own decades-long expectation of the Margaret River winery was at the heart of his disapproval. He tasted, pushed the glass away, and sat in uncomfortable silence. The reaction, however overwrought, I saw as positive. Challenging perception can lead to progression.
I’ve grown even more curious about these releases and other in-house innovations at Vasse Felix since. Recently, in the lab-like tasting room just off the winery floor, Virginia lined up a roster of wines that included Blanc I and Blanc XI, now 100 per cent sauvignon blanc, fermented on skins. “It started out with this,” she says, gesturing to the incarnations of Blanc.
First bottled in 2011, it’s no longer made, but that’s the nature of experimentation, says Virginia. Instead, it’s evolved into a 30 per cent full-skins sauvignon blanc that sits in their premier alternative range; a wine you’d buy in a bottle shop or restaurant with little thought to its creative lineage. “The journey behind our alternative wines has been that we’re doing some funky experiments in the winery to inform us of what’s possible, and, when it works, we bottle some off and sell it in the cellar door,” says Virginia. “We are a fairly conservative wine brand, but what goes on behind the scenes is constant learning and development about how to make the wines better, to have them evolve.”
There was a time when Vasse Felix was known for its classic Margaret River-style Bordeaux white blend – easy going, a drink for the masses. Then, it was a slightly more serious sauvignon blanc semillon that was “lovely, but it wasn’t exciting.” When they started to look at sauvignon blanc semillon and straight sauvignon blanc from Margaret River, Virginia realised that there was room for what she likes to drink – wines that are “skinsy, textural and riper looking.” Focusing on sauvignon blanc, “because it’s the mother of cabernet,” helped inform how sauvignon blanc semillon evolved into the straight sauvignon blanc that’s now turning heads. “Pick that up off the shelf expecting a standard sauvignon blanc, you’ll be disappointed,” says Virgnia. “Because it’s not a standard sauvignon blanc.”
At cellar door, she says these wines “invigorate.” They come and go, giving servers a burst of life and something new to pour. In the storied restaurant, it gives the chefs something to play with.
“Consistency is really hard to be inspired by in some ways, whereas you throw a couple of these things in, and they love it,” she says. Experimentation is most keenly felt in the winery when new winemakers introduce ideas that challenge Virginia’s approach. “I’ve come up with how I make these wines, but they’ve all got creative ideas, and it’s like what’s your outlet?” she says.
Senior winemaker James Revie is a prime example. While working at Spottswoode Estate in the Napa Valley, he used to ferment grapes on skins in a sealed bag. “The bag blows up as it ferments, and it’s absolutely stunning,” Virginia says. But innovation has its boundaries – it must be sustainable. While the winery is reducing single-use plastics, using cable ties and plastic bags isn’t fit for purpose. And so, the hunt for a reusable vessel begins.
With a flourish, Virginia presents Cloud, a wine I first drank with French journalists in the estate’s cellar. As the wine’s backstory was explained while we tasted, I was glued to their reactions. Furrowed brows turned into appreciative nods, and then a test for my rudimentary French language skills. It was a resounding hit. “It’s funny how this evolved,” says Virginia. “I started getting the shits with the beer industry. Every great beer I was drinking was cloudy. When I was young, the only cloudy beer on the market was Cooper’s. Why the hell do people accept cloudy beers and not cloudy wine, I asked?”
The result of this ire was Cloud. “I just went, let’s stir a barrel and bottle it with everything,” she says, adding that some thought it outlandish (for Vasse Felix at least). “They asked, how do we sell it at cellar door? How do we communicate to people about this? I said it’s no different to going to a bar. When I was younger, you’d either decant Cooper’s or the barman would roll it on the bar, you’d get a very light haze and then pour it. Or, in WA, we were heathens, and we’d give Cooper’s a good shake and pour it into the glass and have a fully cloudy version. Decant, roll or shake became the story behind serving this wine. If you do decant it, you get a beautifully clarified wine that’s been aged on lees from bottling.”
Under wraps for 12 months, even from the marketing and cellar door teams, Virginia says, “I wanted to see what it looked like in the bottle and if it started going a bit sour, a bit off, but it just got better and better the longer it stayed on lees.” The verdict from the team and select somms was excitement. There’s a few more vintages left in the idea, she says, but it’s already evolved into what looks to be a mainstay of the wider portfolio.
Cloud was always from a single block of fruit that was unsuited to new oak. “We wanted something that was crisp and fresh, where you could see the transparency of the lees ageing and that would change the way the wine would look,” says Virginia. “One thing we learnt was how beautiful some of our blocks were without any new oak. Just old oak, very crisp, fresh and clean. It was while we were bottling these blocks that we wondered if we should be bottling chardonnay in single plots, without the influence of new oak, to see more of the place that they came from. They had to be very special, very different from Heytesbury or premier chardonnay in their look, feel, approach.”
The result was single-plot releases like the DHJ1 Chardonnay, named for the block south of Margaret River where the fruit came from. “It’s not a block that makes Heytesbury, which loves new oak and has got big body and structure and it’s powerful,” says Virginia. “DHJ1 has got a powerful acid line, really fragrant, beautiful perfumes but doesn’t love new oak as it just masks it. It gets buried in the mix of other plots, but on its own this gives us a Chablis-like wine.”
Inspired by the journey of single-plot chardonnay, she previews the GRA1. “This is the most exciting new development that nobody’s seen yet, which is our little cabernet version,” she says. “It’s been inspired by sustainability and a passion for the variety. In Margaret River, you can accentuate the characteristics of cabernet sauvignon rather than mask them with oak because our fruit is so pure and so beautiful,” she says.
“People think cabernet is supposed to be this beast, but we’ve been trying to tell them that here we have a lighter, more elegant and fragrant style.” The single plots are on their Wilyabrup site, close enough for Virginia to gesture towards. “We’ve got a couple of plots on the top of the hill here that are so perfumed, and elegant, with beautiful tannins, that don’t need new oak. It’s freaking delicious.” There’s no arguing with that verdict and while it’s fascinating to finally delve into the story of innovation, there’s a feeling that there are more chapters to be written.
“Vasse Felix is a little over 50 years old,” says Virginia. “But really, we’re a little over 50 years young.”
This article first appeared in issue #80 of Halliday magazine. Become a member to receive all four issues to your door per year, digital access to more than 185,000 tasting notes from over 4000 wineries, and much more.
