The ultimate accolade at Yalumba is not a trophy. It is a name on The Signature — the house’s oldest and most important label, first released in 1966 from a 1962 vintage. For twenty-three years Kevin ‘KG’ Glastonbury made that wine. Then, late last year, Robert Hill-Smith put him on the bottle.
It was shared with Robin Nettelbeck, the chief viticulturist who had just retired after forty-five years. Winemaker and grower on the same label. Out of the blue, KG says. Satisfying. Humbling. Gold.
The confidence that got him there was never the tidy kind. He did not study. He was not promoted up through a graduate program. He listened, he worked nights, and he kept asking what would happen if you left the wine on skins a little longer - then a lot longer.
"I think I’m one of the luckiest winemakers - because of my history, what I’ve done, and how I got here. Being given the opportunity to create new wines is something I’ve never taken for granted and I’ll treasure as a highlight of my career."
He was not the best student. He mucked around, repeated year 12, failed it again. The pressure was on to get a job. Maths and science were enough to land a laboratory assistant role at Chateau Tanunda, working vintage.
The lab was small. The winemakers tasted in front of him. He listened. He learned. They were, he still says, really helpful, nice people. He became manager. Then he wanted more — for the work, and for his family.
They told him to study. He was not keen. Instead he took nightshift winemaking on his own. The winery would not sponsor him because he was not qualified, so he left. Another company hired him as an assistant winemaker. Four years later he walked into Yalumba as Senior Red Winemaker. That was 1999.
"Most people have come in as a winemaker or are promoted up - but at Yalumba itself, I’m the only one in the last 30 years or so that’s been directly appointed as a senior winemaker, and I’m not qualified in any way, shape or form. My list of awards, reviews and accolades are my piece of paper."
Yalumba does not run a formal program of experimentation. What it does give its winemakers is licence. If KG thinks the wine needs something, he can try it.
The wine that still comes to mind first is Tri-Centenary Grenache. When the ferment finishes - ten or twelve days - most makers press off. KG leaves the wine on its skins. They started at forty days. Then one hundred and sixteen. Then two hundred and fifty. Then he wanted another crack.
Nobody else in wine, he says, does that. It is not a stunt. It is the same instinct that got him out of the lab and onto the floor: look at what is in front of you, then push it until you know.
He has a science-ish background. He still calls the work an art - the art of hands-on experience, learned by listening and talking for years. That is what gave him the confidence to challenge the chemistry. Nobody had taught him the approved direction.
Forty years ago the craft ran the other way. The 1980s were a technical period: purity, wines filtered before ferment, everything pristine. Now the ferments are allowed to be cloudy. Natural yeast. More of a let-it-go style. Different approaches. Both valid. The point is not to treat the textbook as a wall.
When the graduates arrive he tells them to relax. Do not aim to be technically perfect. Challenge the way you were taught. Never assume something will happen because it seems right. Look at the laboratory sheet. Look at the weather map. Look with intent.Then he makes them take a small batch and finish it themselves.
Ownership is the lesson. Responsibility for the decision. Thinking without waiting to be told. Watching them grow from that, he says, is really pleasing. It is the same door he walked through - unqualified on paper, trusted with the work, judged by what ends up in the glass.
Since 1999 the portfolio has been Yalumba’s super-premium reds. Over that time he has created six or seven wines as the main maker, in conversation with his boss and with the owner, Robert Hill-Smith - then it has fallen back on him to drive the style.Tri-Centenary Grenache is one. The Caley - the most expensive, most sought-after blend in the house - is another. Several of those labels did not exist when he joined. The Signature he has curated and nurtured for more than two decades: flagship wine, longest-serving label, the bottle that now carries his name.
"I’m pretty passionate and take great pride that I’ve worked hard behind the scenes to produce the best Yalumba wines as there can be. To get The Signature as an accolade - that’s just gold to me."
A Quintessentially Australian Wine
The Caley is Coonawarra Cabernet and Barossa Shiraz. For a long stretch the Australian industry ran on fortifieds; its table wines were full-bodied, bold, firm in the finish. Those Cabernet-driven wines were called clarets — “the best of” what the country expected to drink.
In the Yalumba museum sits an 1894 claret that Fred Caley Smith was drinking in the foothills of the Himalayas. Fred was a horticulturalist who opened markets for the wines and the canned orchard fruit. The Caley takes his name, and the longer history of those Australian clarets with it.
In his time at Yalumba he has made a lot of white wine. The company where he started lived in fortifieds and distillation, so he has dabbled in that world too. When the maker of spirits and fortifieds retired, the job came straight to KG as understudy. Fortifieds and spirits cannot be left alone for twenty years. You keep tasting. You keep revisiting. You watch how they develop.
He does not sit around wondering what to challenge himself with next. That arrives with the day. The role is diverse enough. Most red winemakers who think they are any good, he says, end up making Pinot Noir. That may be the last box. One day. A great Pinot.
He spoke to us on the eve of a trip to Europe and the UK - a popular market for The Caley. When he is not in the winery, KG is on the road. Cellar floors, vineyard paths, airport stone. The pair on his feet through that week was the 303 Endura Claret. Resilient enough for the work. Quiet enough to forget until the next tasting.
What KG is wearing
The pair on the cellar floor was the 303 Endura Claret. The rest of the Endura collection is the same idea in a few colours - Tan, Redwood, and the Black 301 that has been in the range for more than twenty-five years.
Cellar, vineyard path, the road. A boot quiet enough to leave the work alone.
303 Endura Boot Claret
303 Endura Boot Redwood
It's the same Endura boot, different colourways. 301 is the black. 303 is Claret, Tan and Redwood.
No. The 301 and 303 Endura are everyday work boots, not safety footwear. If the day in front of you needs a certified cap, that is a different pair. Look to the IronLite Safety Boot Range for the composite safety-toe styles.
Endura boots are a regular G fit, made for Australian feet, with true half sizes. They should feel secure through the ankle and hold the heel without pinching the instep. A little firmness on the first wear is normal; the leather and elastic settle with a few days of walking. They should not gap at the back, and your toes should have room to sit flat. If you are between sizes, most people do better in the larger half size and a pair that can break in, rather than a pair that already feels tight.
No. Endura boots are leather work boots, not a waterproof boot. Full grain leather will shed light rain and damp ground more readily once it has been treated with Rossi Boot Wax, before the first wear and regularly after that. Wax helps the leather last and keeps water from soaking in as quickly. It does not make the boot watertight. If they do get wet, let them dry at room temperature, away from heaters and direct sun, then wax them again. That is how the pair stays in work, not by asking the leather to do a gumboot’s job.
Giving your boots the TLC they deserve will increase the water resistance and longevity of the leather and keep them looking good for longer. As this boot is made with Full Grain Leather, we recommend treating with Rossi Boots Boot Wax before first wear and then regularly after that.