Most wineries begin with a single wine or label in mind…Alkina began with a hole in the ground, then another, then another, until there were more than 160 of them.
The name Alkina means ‘moon’ in an Aboriginal Australian language, and it suits a farm that keeps time by the lunar calendar. The property lies outside Greenock in the Barossa’s northwest, on land first planted to vines by Les Kalleske in 1955. The stone buildings are older still, dating to the 1850s. In 2015, Argentine vigneron Alejandro Bulgheroni bought the run-down place on the strength of a creek, some old Grenache vines, and the conviction of his longtime colleague Amelia Nolan, a South Australian who’d spotted the opportunity in the back pages of the newspaper. Beginning with 10 hectares of vines, there are now 43-hectares under vine on the 60-hectare property, with Syrah, Grenache, Mourvèdre, and Sémillon the principal varieties planted across 37 blocks, much of the new plantings in 2017. Then came the question that changed everything: what, exactly, is under these vines?
To answer it, Nolan and Bulgheroni brought in Italian super-oenologist Alberto Antonini and Chilean soil-guru Dr. Pedro Parra, a man who listens to rocks the same way most people listen to a playlist. Together they dug those 160-plus pits and scanned the vineyard for electromagnetic conductivity, building a map of what lies beneath: schist and clay laced with iron and quartzite, pockets of chalky limestone, seams of wind-blown lime, all of it part of some of the oldest vine-growing country on earth. The vineyard was initially divided into blocks, the way most are. Pedro had the idea of going even further and created ‘Polygons’, or parcels of a little more than two-thirds of an acre, each picked and fermented on its own. The differences are astonishing and Pedro says that “only 5% of the vineyards around the world have this level of diversity and quality of terroir.” Two neighboring plots of old Grenache, one on limestone and one on schist, might as well be from different villages. One is lifted, red-fruited and delicate; the other is darker, wilder, and built like a fortress.
Knowing the soil is only half the job; it has to be kept alive. Alkina is certified biodynamic, and it takes the discipline seriously. The Greenock Creek runs through the property, which acts as a natural corridor of flora and fauna, and a single survey counted 11,000 insect species along with 2,500 native plants that were planted to reduce erosion. The team calls the place ‘vineland,’ a small forest that happens to grow grapes. Healthy roots thread through fractured rock and pull up the minerals that make each Polygon taste like itself. This is not ornamental philosophy; it is how the map becomes wine.
The cellar then gets out of the way. Ferments happen with no additions in concrete, amphora, Georgian qvevri and old wood and maturation in the same vessels. Grenache and Shiraz, the Barossa’s heritage grapes, are picked earlier and fermented with more whole-bunch to bring out a nerviness and lift. Nobody at Alkina thinks of the winemaker by the title so much as a ‘grape steward’ and as Nolan puts it,”The vineyard is the star.”
In a few short years, Alkina has become one of the most interesting and important stories in recent Australian wine history. It shows that a famous, warm region can still be rediscovered, one pit and one Polygon at a time. It shows that the most radical thing a winery can do is pay attention. And it offers a whole new way of seeing the Barossa: not as one big red, but as a mosaic of tiny, distinct places, each waiting to be tasted.