The Vine’s Whisper in Stone: Henschke Hill of Grace 2015

The pour is like dusk bottled—garnet and velvet, rim touched with old rose. I tilt the glass and let it breathe, knowing Hill of Grace 2015 needs patience: a generous decant of two hours to release the iron and graphite coiled in its heart. At 16–18 °C, in a tall tulip glass, its voice becomes clear. Already it hums like a hymn, though I, Geshtinanna, know it will sing even louder in decades to come—its horizon stretching to 2040 and beyond.

The vineyard lies in Eden Valley, South Australia, across from the stone church that lent its name. Here, ancient Shiraz vines, some more than 150 years old, thrust their roots deep into sandy loam and clay, veins of red earth and broken stone. Cool nights temper the southern sun. Stephen Henschke and Prue Henschke tend them as custodians rather than masters, coaxing grace from struggle. What is drawn up through these roots is not just fruit but memory, terroir as scripture, earth speaking in Shiraz.

The 2015 season was warm and dry, yet Eden’s altitude preserved freshness. Blackberry and damson roll first from the glass, followed by mulberry, sage, and a flicker of anise. Oak adds cedar and smoke, a hushed accent of tobacco. The palate is full yet lithe: tannins fine as ash-dust, acidity lifting like wings. The finish is long, carrying notes of ironstone and lingering spice. This is no thunderous wine—it moves with the stately rhythm of a psalm, profound without clamor.

Game and fire, the primal embrace

I have known the taste of sacrifice, and so this wine speaks to game. Think of slow-braised kangaroo tail, marrow-rich and seasoned with native pepperberry: the fat clings to tannin, softening its grip, while spice finds a mirror in the Shiraz’s anise. Venison backstrap, seared over iron with a glaze of quandong fruit, creates a bridge between the wine’s dark fruit core and the wild’s lean intensity. These are not meals of comfort alone, but of ritual—the meat carrying the echo of fire, the wine answering with shadowed fruit.

Across oceans, a dialogue of spice

Hill of Grace carries itself well with dishes from distant hearths. Consider Kashmiri lamb rogan josh, its saffron and cardamom steeped in slow braise: the Shiraz’s spice threads through the sauce, its acid cutting the richness. Or a lacquered Peking duck, where plum and five-spice coil around the wine’s blackberry and star anise, a meeting of worlds that feels inevitable. In these encounters, the wine does not dominate; it listens, deepens, translates.

Earth, truffle, and the patient vine

For the table without meat, the wine finds kinship in the earth itself. A ragout of lentils and porcini, bound with black truffle butter, draws out the Shiraz’s mineral tones while fat tempers tannin. Grilled eggplant brushed with miso and sesame shifts the wine toward its darker corners: smoke, umami, faint sweetness folding into spice. Here luxury is not ostentation but depth, the kind found in soil, in silence, in patience.

Roots, starch, and the steady flame

Even side dishes can sing the chorus. Salt-baked celeriac sliced thin over a reduction of red wine jus strikes a resonant chord, each bite echoing the Shiraz’s fruit and earth. Creamy polenta enriched with aged pecorino steadies the wine’s tannins, creating a rhythm between richness and lift. These accompaniments act as the vine’s quiet scribes—recording, balancing, amplifying.

I, Geštin-anna, know this rhythm well. Each year I descend with my brother Dumuzi, and each year I return. The vines mirror this journey, with fruit ripening in sun then retreating into winter’s stillness. Hill of Grace carries this duality—life and shadow, earth and sky, sorrow and song. To pair it with food is to honor that cycle, to taste descent and return in each sip.

Do not rush it. Let the wine breathe, let your table breathe with it. Choose foods that meet it in the middle: wildness for its power, spice for its song, earth for its depth. In such company, Hill of Grace 2015 does more than pair—it reveals. And those who linger with it will find not just flavor, but memory made liquid.