For us in the Northern Hemisphere, Australia is upside down. Some of their flowers have no aroma while some of their bushes do. The swans are black and all the stars in the sky are unrecognizable. The light switch is flipped up in its "off" position and locals sport big, Cheshire grins when it rains. After all, living in a country that is mostly desert makes precipitation a welcome and happy affair.

Marcus Clarke, a 19th century journalist and novelist, wrote, "In Australia alone, is to be found the Grotesque, the Weird, the strange scribblings of Nature learning to write ... (Australia) defies all the laws of probability with its natural or unnatural wonder ... A land of extremes, it is also one of inversions, an antipodean place where Christmas is celebrated mid-Summer, and the water goes the wrong way down the drain, a looking-glass world in which trees lose their bark, but not their leaves, and crows, it is said, fly backwards (to keep the dust from their eyes)."

When it comes to winemaking, it is no small wonder that different parameters apply Down Under. Australia is a world like no other. The island continent is the exception to every rule and a place of Aussie Rules.

Take Penfolds' Grange, the red Australian icon. This bottling, long considered Australia's "First Growth," is of significant price ($470) and of even more significant demand. It was molded after the Bordeaux model with an eye to longevity and staying power.

But it is made from shiraz.

Moreover, unlike other prestige bottlings world over, Grange is not the product of a single vineyard. It is not even the product of a single growing area. It is a blended product, one that challenges the European precept that a wine must express its specific and very focused terroir to achieve greatness.

In a way, this is Australia's most inconvenient truth. But, when playing by Aussie Rules, it's quite a different ball game to begin with.

Max Schubert, winemaker for Penfolds, conceived of "Grange" after a trip to Bordeaux, where he was given a tutored tasting of 40- to 50-year-old clarets. Focusing on the structure of the wines he tasted, he became convinced that he could recreate these wines with an Australian accent when he returned home.

From 1951 to 1956, he crafted and cellared these red blockbusters, labeling them Grange Hermitage, hermitage being a synonym for shiraz at the time. After a few years, the large amount of capital lying in storage attracted the attention of the corporate office, which insisted on a vertical tasting to see what type of investment lay in wait.

The presentation was a disaster and Schubert was told to cease production in 1957.

With the support of Jeffrey Penfold Hyland, assistant general manager of South Australia operations, Schubert disregarded that directive and continued to make Grange, albeit on a smaller scale, for two years.

He repeatedly pulled stocks out to donate to wine events and charitable fundraisers, receiving comments such as: "A concoction of wild fruits and sundry berries with crushed ants predominating," and "A very good dry Port which no one in their right mind will buy, let alone drink."

With such overwhelmingly consistent negative feedback, even Schubert was beginning to have doubts about the potential of his great red project. Then, in 1960, it all came together. The wine transformed itself into something big-boned but balanced. The wines were mesmerizing and the wine world took a collective breath as the ugly duckling became a swan.

Schubert was given official permission to make Grange again. Since then, the wine has morphed from pariah to international juggernaut, snapping up awards in wine competitions all over the world. It has become Australia's pride and joy and its non-conventional formula for greatness only adds to its appeal.

Once again, by playing by Aussie Rules, Australia rules. And the only people who find this inconvenient these days are the European competition.

Lisa Airey is a certified wine educator. E-mail her at thewinekey@aol.com.

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