Immediately I was put to work on the ‘punch down’ of the red grapes. There are a number of ways to perform this crucial part of winemaking. Joe in Bordeaux merely had to operate a pump with a flick of his pinky. I, on the other hand, had a good work out, physically punching fermented grape skins to draw out their flavour and colour. Although it was tiring, it became rather therapeutic. I was quite proud of my vigorous punches and it’s so satisfying watching the juices burst out of the grapes. Col mentioned that he usually worked in a more grid-like fashion but hey, surely random punch downs could only give this eclectic brand more flair?

Col didn’t seem to think so, and I was soon demoted to cleaning. No one realises, but this actually constitutes about ninety percent of winemaking. No winery can afford to let any bit of bacteria or dirt into their vats, barrels or equipment – it is a Herculean but vital task. I started off by rinsing the fermentation area and then flushing out the barrels. One particularly memorable part was trying to clean the grape crusher and then subsequently getting stuck inside!

I couldn’t have done such a bad job; Col even gave me a helping hand out of the grape crusher. As exhausted as I was, I couldn’t help but admire the steadfast teamwork and hands-on approach in this humble, corrugated iron unit. In one room you have the sorting table for the fruit, plastic vats with fermenting grapes and custodial casks ageing future Young Punks, while vibrant comic book posters festooned on the walls looked down on the anarchic yet simultaneously organised environment. It really was impressive to witness – I had genuinely never been so intrigued to taste the fruit of any such labour.

That moment finally came. The Daisy Duke shorts were exchanged for a black playsuit and I was ready to go out and experience Adelaide’s East End (think pre-gentrification Shoreditch). Col was taking me out to one of his favourite dive bars which not only served his wine by the glass but was also abuzz with a colourful crowd of punters.

Someone I know once referred to Adelaide as Australia’s ‘ugly sister’, with Sydney and Melbourne being the glamorous, older siblings. I can’t help but think of the ugly duckling analogy, as clichéd as it may seem. It may not have the glamour of Sydney or the cosmopolitan hue of Melbourne, but it had soul. While I was there I experienced wine street festivals, exciting cuisine including tribal African dishes, hip wine bars without pretension and an East End filled with dive bars. But no one in tight trousers donning a beard was in sight.

As Col handed me a glass of one of his wines, ‘Passion has Red Lips’, I couldn’t help thinking that this was the perfect setting to enjoy his wine. It’s a spicy, sensual drink that tastes as much fun as the provocative wine label. It could also compete with the funkiness of the punk rock pool players.

Australia is going through a really exciting period, with more and more boutique wine producers making their mark in cutting-edge wine regions. Col McBryde, with his down to earth winery in Clare Valley, is definitely one of them. As Claret echoes the tradition and heritage of Bordeaux, Col’s funky and exciting wines are just as memorable as their creator.