It was with an odd—even somewhat apprehensive—sensation that on the morning of the 12th September 2009 I poured sixteen current crop Clare rieslings into my Riedel Blind-Blind tasting glasses, and then muddled them using my ‘half-blind’ randomising system.
The wines on the table in of me were in the cottage where I’d recently begun residing in the wee Mid-North village of Watervale with Kerri Thompson. Kerri—KT—was a bit freaked out too. Primarily because there were a few of her wines by KT rizzas from the Peglidis and Churinga vineyards in the line-up, and she knew I’d be forthright in my observations.
But she was also a bit perturbed at tasting from the manganese oxide-dyed crystal Riedel glassware. Winemakers, you see, and—for that matter—sommeliers, show judges, and others who evaluate vino professionally, generally like to sight the liquid for visual clues as to ‘condition’, age, even hints as to varietal identity. In blind wine qualification exams, options games and the like, this can prove especially helpful in assisting identification. I’m deuteranomalous and so my visual acuity—colour-wise—leaves me disadvantage in this regard.
This bit of context I provide as, while me and Kerri—I’ve never addressed her as KT incidentally—have lived separate lives for a number of years, we’re still thankfully connected through our daughter Willa, whose initials appear on Kerri’s sublime 2022 Fortified Shiraz. This disclosure may be of interest if such considerations hold value for you when reading my reviews (see also the footnote below).

Kerri’s 2009 Peglidis riesling, then released under KT and The Falcon label, was my top wine of the tasting that morning, as it genuinely happened. The Peglidis vineyard is a most special place in the revered Clare sub-region of Watervale. Its wine story began in 1970 when Paniotis ‘Bunny’ and Yvonne Peglidis established their farm. Their first riesling vines were planted in 1973.
Slightly below Peg that morning was the Crabtree Watervale of the same vintage. Which was good news all round, as Kerri was engaged in a consultative winemaking capacity at Crabtree back then.
There was another KT riesling in this same line-up, from the Churinga vineyard (now owned by Jim Barry and rebranded with the somewhat retirement home-sounding Watervale Gardens). I also pointed this highly at 92/100 along with the Pikes Traditionale, which is invariably one of the district's most consistent performers in any vintage year. This I mention to indicate that I don’t drop 95/100—that’s the accepted gold medal standard at an Australian wine show—on everything, even when one does learn of a wine’s origin. Although this is pretty much the norm now Aussie wine influencers spruiking their reviews for renumeration.
Absent from the that ’09 line-up was Kerri’s Melva which, as noted in my reviews here is invariably—vintage-in and vintage-out—one of her most engaging expressions of Watervale riesling. Of any Clare riesling, full-stop. But, more on this later.
This wasn’t the first time I’d engaged in a serious wine tasting in the district of Clare, of course. One of the most significant ever—for the then, now and future history of quality wine in Australia to the mind and palate of this individual—took place on the 3rd October 2000 at the historic Leasingham winery, which was sadly shuttered by then owners Constellation a little under a decade later.
In typical, cynical wine corporate fashion, Constellation retained title to this lauded Clare producer's label even though the spirit had evaporated. Along with three fine vineyards—Rogers, Schobers and Provis—upon which much of Leasingham’s contemporary reputation was founded.
But that exciting October morning I participated in a tasting of 2000 vintage Clare rieslings comparing those sealed under screw caps with the same producer’s wine’s under natural cork. This closure innovation went under the Clare Valley Winemakers Association’s internal working title of ‘The Stelvin Project’, which years later would be dubbed ‘The Australian Screwcap Initiative’ (at the Maurice O’Shea Award dinner in 2012).
But when you’re dropping in and out of a wine region, even if undertaking rigorous tastings—maybe even tasting some grapes as harvest time approaches, if you’re lucky—it can be hard to get an understanding of the lie and life of the land. To comprehend the subtleties and shifts that occur across a vineyard season; to get a meaningful appreciation of what shaped the liquid in the glass before you.
Remarkably though, the first time I ventured to the Peglidis vineyard with Kerri I realised that I had actually been there previously. Of all the places that I’d have visited in Clare before! I can’t recall when, but I was in the company of Stephanie Toole who sourced grapes for her Mount Horrocks riesling from Peglidis at the time. It was meeting Bunny and Yvonne again that joined the dots (bad KT label pun intended—more on that later*). It's the spirit of people, in addition to place, that makes something special.

So it was that in 2010, as fruit was approaching maturity—that is post-veraison and with the picking clock slowly, then quickly, ticking down—that I became immersed in tasting the grapes which the person I was walking rows with—block after block—would be transforming into wine.
Even with a great palate, and KT most certainly has one, tasting grapes—that is understanding what their developing flavours inform you about the wine that is yet to be created—is an acquired skill.
Across just one vineyard, such as Peglidis, there’ll be significant differences in grape maturity as you move north to south; as soil type, and topsoil depth subtly transition beneath your feet. The air temperature will alter also. Even on warm to hot days on a gentle open slope there’ll be cooler parts in the vineyard.
Across the road at Churinga—as it was then named—it got even more complicated because of the property’s varied topography. The old vine Grenache block on the western side of the vineyard that one can see from the Main North Road was invariably at a different state of maturity—tasted on the same morning—to the other old block over the hill on the far side of the vineyard on a gentle slope to the east.
So too the Riesling across the property which ranged from young vine north facing blocks to the old contour vines on the eastern side where the vineyard was also bordered by woodland to the north.
When tasting the black grapes in 2010 I remember thinking that I ’sort of' got how to assess Shiraz and Grenache reasonably well. But Churinga's Cabernet Sauvignon grape berry qualities completely eluded me, as much as I’ve adored the finished article (Kerri’s ’09 Churinga is one of my favourite ever Clare Valley Cabernets).
But Kerri, of course, got the timing of harvest absolutely right—on tasting alone—and I remember marvelling at the finished wine when it was released after happening upon in in one of my ‘half-blind’ tastings (in Riedel Blind Blinds, of course). It was—presumably still is—beautifully flavoured and structured and emphatically Clare Cabernet Sauvignon (see my review of the Castine vineyard Cabernet Sauvignon here).

Now, Kerri has been dubbed ‘Australia’s Riesling queen’ or similar by a number of titles over the years including by the Halliday Wine Companion Magazine. Although she’s never referred to herself as such, of course, and is a somewhat embarassed by the reference if someone else does. But her finest reds from Clare are also right there with her top rizzas, and she’s garnered a good few Australian wine show trophy crowns for reds she’s presided over along the way: at Leasingham, Crabtree, and now Skillogalee—where she leads the winemaking team.
And speaking of trophies, and before we pop back over the road to Peglidis to talk of Melva, while researching this piece I found a column I’d written for the The Australian Financial Review published in October 2009 about the Clare community and the Leasingham closure (of the winery, not ‘The Stelvin Project). I’d forgotten all about it, but it’s still up there for all to access on the AFR website. That’s if want to subscribe. Otherwise you can read it here.
My column opened with this: “The media release arrived on September 11 announcing the 2005 Leasingham Classic Clare Riesling had won not only the trophy for the best riesling at the Royal Perth Wine Show, but also the prize for best white, and best wine of show overall - three trophies in all.”
What I did not mention back then—as it would have presented a reasonable conflict of interest—is that the winemaker responsible for creating this wine was one Kerri Thompson. But even if you had read Constellation's media release you would not have known this significant detail anyway, as the company omitted it from the release. So here it is now, out there for the record. If you have a bottle tucked away it should still be in fine condition. It was, of course, sealed under screwcap.
But back to Peglidis today where he fruit—the grapes—for Kerri’s Melva Wild-Fermented Riesling are grown. The wine is named for Kerri’s maternal grandmother. The selection differs from the KT single vineyard Peglidis and is usually taken from the southern-most plantings as I recall it. The vines which are closest to Bunny and Yvonne’s little grove of olives and fruit trees.

There's a quince tree growing there too whose fruit I once used as vital complimentary component in a lamb tagine (although made in a Staub cast-iron pot, not an authentic clay tagine). The original recipe which I’ve modified it a bit, especially as it relates to the timing and addition of some components, was sourced from delicious magazine.
With quinces currently in season I’ve made it once again with a boned-out shoulder of Wunderbar lamb, maintaining a regional and familial theme (read on). It is the perfect dish to feast upon with some KT ’22 Grenache.
As mentioned above in blind tastings of Clare riesling over the years it is routinely one of my top picks in any given vintage. Only once—and I’ve tasted Melva back as far as 2008—have I pointed it below an Australian Wine Show silver medal level. The run of vintages from ’21 is most special indeed with every one pointed by me at high silver or gold level (and I’ve judged a few in my time—shows I mean). My tastes have not been shared, however, by the various chairs and judges at the Clare Valley Wine Show over the years, and KT has long given up on submitting Melva into it.
That said, I should add here that the wines by KT Peglidis single vineyard was a gold medal winner in the Wines of Provenace class at last year’s Clare show, which speaks heaps of the scintillating quality of Bunny and Yvonne’s wine grapes.
Unlike the Peglidis single vineyard riesling which is fermented in stainless steel, the Melva goes straight to old oak barrels, where they all tick along at their own pace. A selection of these barrels is then made, blended, and bottled. The label takes inpsiration from the work of Marion Hall Best.
And, as mentioned above, is named for Kerri’s grandma. Willa’s grandmother, Coralie—a.k.a. Cozza or ‘Gram', as Willa fondly calls her—tells me that Melva (Kermode, nee. Heinrich) was born in the Mid North at Burra Hospital and lived on the family farm, Manofield, at Black Springs until she got married.
Hence the Wunderbar reference above. Wunderbar free-range lamb, you see, is farmed by the fifth gneration of the Heinrich family at Black Springs, just half an hour west of the wines by KT cellar door in Auburn. So families aligned and more dots connected.
Written and published by Tim White, May/June 2026

This smells like lots of fun: and it is. Apricot and peach fuzz among an almost dried pineapple exotic edge. Deep. Some pistachio nutty creaminess too. How it tastes, with a really intense core of just-yellow stone fruit and XO tangerine melty skins. The palate is tight and fine pink salty, with mouthwatering small-cell juiciness. Will continue to evolve for a few more years yet. 93(94)/100 (e) - 8/10 (h) - 😋😋 - $40 cellar direct. Kerri has a couple of other vintages of this available at the cellar door. My reviews of the ’21-’23 can be found here.

Sweet fragrant plum skin and autumn—just-fallen, comforting, damp—deciduousness. Get’s juicier and juicier—mulberry-ish—and there’s inky violet carbon paper glinting in and out. The fruit is blue becoming blacker as it blooms. As it soaks up air, there’s molasses flake tobacco*. Some bark and seaweed too. Sharp, edgy, as mulberry-blackberry on the tongue, and builds dusty into melty tannins in an Italianate—Tuscan—way. Actually no: they’re authentic—Clare cabernet tannins such as you will encounter in a Wendouree*. It bursts with summer pudding pippy fruit as it flows too. Flavour flave. 94(95)/100 (e) - 9/10 (h) - 😋😋(😋) - $60 cellar direct. Will shape out further in a few more years I reckon, although my tasting history of Cabernet Sauvignon from the Castine vineyard is limited.
* As it happens there were two Wendouree wines—the Cabernet Sauvignon and Cabernet Malbec—as well as Grosset's Gaia, Lake Breeze Arthur’s Reserve and others in the line-up in which I encountered the above. So, it was in classy company indeed. Grosset’s Gaia ’22 is one of the finest reds I’ve ever encountered from Clare. As is the Kerri Thompson Howarth Vineyard Shiraz Cabernet Sauvignon reviewed below.
* Also I can—or used to be able to—distinguish burley and brights from latakia, and the like, as in a past professional life I used to blend pipe tobacco. Flake tobacco is pressed with sugar syrup, concentrated fruit juice or any other thick, sweet liquid. Maybe ‘burnt figginess’ might assist as an alternative descriptor for those unfamiliar with the evils of pipe baccy.
But it’s not unusual to find tobacco references in the descriptors used in reviews of Cabernet Sauvignon, especially ‘cigar box’. As they both—the divine grape cabernet and the evil leaf tobacco—share distinctive pyrazine compounds. So to do many other adored substances—chocolate, tomatoes, potatoes—which were introduced to Europe by seafarers returning from exploration of the Americas, the so-called 'New World'.

This is one serious smelling red. Irresistible, in fact: it pulls you in. Smells dense and succulent, but there’s also a sparkle. Blackberry violet, fig glaze, cabernet flake tobacco. Shifting fruit-wise to more saturated, satsuma plumminess with air. Transitory—complimentary—Aussie sous bois too. And it is serious tasting as well and loaded with cane berry juice and pippiness and mulberries soused in terra cotta. Carbon paper shimmer among building—evolving—crusty tannins which cradle the super-lucid fruit. Eccles cake crystallised fruit and pastry crust. And then mouth-aromas lit with oyster shell, gentle baking spices, and fancy—subtle—oak toast rye crust. And then more cane berry sharp-succulence. est to follow this over a couple of days I’d suggest. Shape, flavour, structure: what a wine! 96(98)/100 (e) - 10/10 (h) -😋😋😋- $125 cellar direct. Super-classy Australian claret of the medium to full-bodied kind. It is a delight to enjoy now, but will be so also in ten years, and twenty—and more.
Kerri and Brendan Pudney—wines by KT’s production manager (and much more)—have put a lot of serious hard—hand, and heart—work into re-shaping vines and improving the soil health of the Howarth vineyard, which is located in the Clare sub-region of Armagh. It was planted in 1987 and established without access to irrigation, and so is therefore what is termed in Australia, a ‘dry grown’ vineyard. And boy has it been dry in Clare across many seasons for the past five to six years.
Thankfully, the late-autumn—and winter and spring—rainfall of 2020 and ’21 set up the 2022 harvest as being one of the best in years. So the KT crew’s effort expended in Howarth was rewarded. It’s a vintage that has provided some of the finest Clare reds ever created. There are several sublime wines from Wendouree in ‘22, and its next-door neighbour to the south, Adelina. As well as the aforementioned Grosset Gaia.
There have been extended dry periods since the harvest of 2023 and so crops have been significantly reduced on dry-tended farms.
So similar sentiments as those expressed below: Even more reason to be acquiring, drinking, and celebebrating this Clare vinicultural treasure.

Gentle blood plum, black cherry, and white pepper spice. There’s an inkling of Mataro white pepper fustiness* among the plum skin pastry crust. A bit of brie skin. Get's blood orange rind as it opens too. There’s a lovely sharp plumminess in the mouth as well, becoming more cane berry pippy as it progresses across the palate. Mingling among the sweet-sharp, gently peppery fruit is immaculately textured tannin. A most toothsome medium-full bodied red this is. 92/100 (e) - 9/10 (h) - 😋😋😋 - $35 cellar direct. Absolutely delicious with Khasi Ko Masu, which is Nepalese for goat curry. This I know as both were much enjoyed together by me at The Gilbert Street Hotel. Credit for the dish goes to Yadu—a.k.a.Eddie—one of a number of creative individuals in head chef, Greg Frith's kitchen. The KT is on by the glass.
*Three things One: I use Mataro here quite deliberately as the most important places in the Clare Valley for the variety (which is also known as Monastrell and Mourvèdre) are those at Wendouree (Spring Farm) and the Ashton vineyard (Sevenhill). Both are 1920 plantings and identified as Mataro (the latter released periodically by Kilikanoon as Ashton 1920).
Two: The descriptor ‘fusty’, to describe a sort of comforting, mushroomy, cedary smell that you might encounter in a well-kept old barrel cellar, I first heard from the late, great d’Arry Osborn of d’Arenberg, And Mataro can smell like this too—here like Brie skin among the gentle white pepper.
Lastly: There is, in fact, no Mataro in this wine. It is pure Grenache from an old bush vine plot in Clare’s north. Old Grenache vineyards are rare in Clare. Wendouree removed all of its old vines decades ago.
The vineyard was recently sold and Kerri no longer has access to the fruit. So, even more reason to be acquiring and drinking a bit of this Clare vinicultural treasure.
So, so lovely as it gently opens up this. Pure Meyer lemon and tahitian rind: pristine and precise to begin and then with oxygen and warming comes somebarrel-fermented pistachio nuttiness, pear skin, and a sniff of rose jelly. Again: so lovely. This is how it tastes too, with flinty lees chew, among pristine, edgy white nectarine and lime fruit. Long, dry and mouth-sucking. Textural complexity also. A Riesling of considerable beauty. 97/100 (e) - 10/10 (h) - 😋😋😋 - $38 cellar direct.
Quite exotic smelling this vintage of Melva. Large cell juicy—ruby grapefruit—suggesting a hint of bitter pith to come. A gentle, transitory sniff of green mango, and delicate snow pea herbals too, with the fruit becoming more crystallised lime as it warms. And there’s also a creamy—panna cotta—lees character around it. It’s tight, pulpy, deep and chewy and intense on the tongue, and there’s gentle grip at the back. The fruit is delicious and in the medium to larger cell form suggested by the nose—ruby grapefruit, pomelo—so it’s open and easy, but still held in a serious structural matrix. Has an ease and roundness about it, but there’s lots to suck on. 95/100 (e) - 9/10 (h) - 😋😋😋 - $38 cellar direct.
Tight peel and reserved/restrained. Waiting to open. Has a lanolin sniff about it, ozone rockpool and nettle. Bracing and crushed oyster shell like in the mouth also. Again austere on the palate, but there's a deep pith/peel core which gets wide and melty at the sides. Really quite mouth-sucking actually. And there's a pistachio shell nuttiness. Lots to suck on and fab mouth-aromas getting crustiness white sourdough. Will evolve for a decade I reckon. 94(95)/100 (e) - 8/10 (h) - 😋😋 - $38 cellar direct. 2025-2030 will be when it’s drinking loveliest.
