Bibere vinum suae regionis, to drink wine from one’s own region, was an attempt by me and an academic colleague, Steve Evans, in a 2013 scholarly article, to match the neologism ‘locavore’, meaning local eater/local eating, with one for local drinker/drinking ‘locabiber’.
Locavore was the New American Oxford Dictionary’s word of the year for 2007. Locavore comes from the Latin roots of local (locus) and eating (vorare). To drink is bibere.
Letter to the Editor
Both terms have been short lived! But one hundred miles (160 kms) was being used in the first decade of this century as the distance within which one could readily access locally produced food, to save on transport costs and emissions at the very least.
To be a serious locabiber on the north coast of Tasmania, one should consider drinking wine from Meander Valley Vineyard (Red Hills), Ghost Rock (Northdown), Eastford Creek (Sassafras), La Villa (Devonport), Barringwood (Barrington), Broad Acres (Ulverstone).
My explanation for the relatively high bottle-price of Tasmanian wines is that they are not mass-produced, but, rather, small batched. Tasmanian is known for Pinot Noir and sparklings. Chardonnay, Pinot Gris, Sauvignon Blanc and Riesling are also common.
But it is rare to see alternative varieties. However, Eastford Creek does produce Gamay and Gewurztraminer, La Villa a Savagnin, and Barringwood a Schönburger.
Consider the 2023 vintage from the winery closest to the production centre of The North Coast Post: Meander Valley Vineyard.
All of the Vineyard’s wine bottles have luminescent-yellow bottle tops, much like the current revival of 1970’s psychedelic fashion. Its distinctive, minimalist labels, with vertical text, sans image, and empathetic colours—musk pink for Sparkling Rose, pale mauve for Pinot Noir and teal for Pinot Gris—make the wine easy to recognise amid a discordancy of bottles on crowded bottle-shop and wine-bar shelves. That neon-bright yellow of the bottle tops is picked up in lettering: the A in Meander and V in Valley and Vineyard.
The colour of the Sparkling Rosé (nearly all Tasmanian Rosés are based on Pinot Noir) is a beautiful ballet-slipper pink, reminding me of my alma mater, the University of Sydney’s Library with its copper- or bronze-clad walls tinged pink from exposure/age.
The aroma is salmon and musk. The Sparkling is very dry, but still has body and complexity, with a passing whisper of strawberry sweetness on the palate. Recommended for discerning sparkling drinkers: this is one of Tasmania’s best; it sits in a well-judged balance of elegance and sophisticated pleasure. I was shifted to the memory of being in my local, childhood grocery shop with its glass-box lolly counter full of toffee umbrellas, musk sticks and the pink among liquorice allsorts.
The Pinot Gris is silver-yellow in colour with a ballet-pink undertone. The perfume is as if you were smelling cool, flat satin. The palate is reminiscent of a light Semillon, taking seniority of experience to understand and appreciate. Some bitter orange, some passionfruit. Not lush, but neither is it severe. It’s like playing a game that demands some brain power but also engages, like Monopoly perhaps.
The Pinot Noir is a clear, light ruby-red in colour, like a jewel, typical of Pinot Noir, and one of the most enticing attributes of this grape. On being opened for some time, the wine develops a pepper in its perfume much like a Barossa Shiraz. The palate says ‘young’, but there’s something solid about this Pinot too, like learning your times-tables with a love of symmetry and pattern. So maybe not luscious, but acceptable. It’s like organic cotton, or even muslin at a stretch. Ultimately it reminds me of a sandy beach.
