I noticed it when I stepped out of the airport in Launceston: Tasmania smells fresh. Parks and wilderness cover 40% of the island, and much of the rest is farmland. Swept by the Roaring Forties — intense westerly winds that buffet the Southern Hemisphere — the atmospheric station at Cape Grim in the state’s northwest corner regularly records the earth’s most pristine air. Down here in Australia’s southernmost state, not far from Antarctica, simply taking a breath is delicious. But that’s not all that’s delicious. Grapes retain mouthwatering acidity in the chilly, maritime climate of Tasmania (or Lutruwita, as it’s called in palawa kani, the local Aboriginal language). Having loved Tolpuddle Vineyard’s earthy Pinot Noirs, full of cranberry and orange-peel flavors, back in New York, I’d made a pilgrimage to the island for its wine.

It was Saturday, so I headed to Launceston’s Harvest Market, a showcase for the regional abundance that’s made Tasmania’s second-largest municipality, with its Victorian homes and quiet, leafy downtown, a UNESCO City of Gastronomy. Amid the berry and potato farmers, I found a vendor selling Tassie scallop pies — a snack unique to the island — and scarfed down two of the flaky, seafood-filled pastries before driving north along winding roads lined with eucalyptus trees. I was on my way to Pipers River, the island’s northernmost wine region. There, the eponymous waterway meanders around rolling hills covered with vineyards and forests before it spills into the Bass Strait, which separates Tasmania from the mainland.

Although William Bligh planted vines on the Tasmanian coast in 1788, winemaking floundered until the mid-20th century. When winemaker Andrew Pirie, a Francophilic postdoc in viticulture, arrived in the area in 1973, “Australia was producing wine in warm areas — Barossa Valley, McLaren Vale,” he told me. “But Burgundy was cool, and it produced France’s most expensive wine.” Pirie and his brother established Pipers Brook Vineyard, planting Chardonnay and Riesling in this chilly area. Their sparkling wines soon won international awards and put Tasmania on the viticultural map. Other sparkling-wine producers followed, among them Jansz, where today you can taste their flowery, yeasty Premium Cuvée blend of Chardonnay and Pinot Noir while looking out over a lake, and Clover Hill Wines, where the spiffy cellar door serves French-Japanese fare on weekends along with its briny, beeswaxy Noir en Bois. Today, 40% of Tassie wines are sparkling.

As the island warms along with the planet, the potential for exceptional wine beyond the bubbles is growing — Pinot Noir, particularly, which is the second-most-produced wine here. In the appointment-only cellar door at his current winery, Apogee, Pirie poured me a ruby-hued Pinot that came on in waves: rose, bitter cherry, cake spice, menthol. “Pinot Noir doesn’t have to be big to be good,” he said. 

The same can be said for many other varietals here. With drought and heat strafing mainland Australia vineyards and driving up alcohol levels, winemakers are coming here, seeking cooler sites for the lighter wines that consumers now prefer. Vintner Ricky Evans moved to the island from Adelaide in 2017. At Havilah, his wine bar in Launceston’s Art Deco downtown, he spun ’80s New Wave and poured me his wares — a juicy, tropical OGG, a skin-contact blend of Pinot Gris and Gewürztraminer; a plummy Three Wishes Pinot Noir, which went beautifully with dukka-spiced lamb ribs; and an aromatic Cabernet Franc that smacked of blue fruits. His wine list prioritizes small producers like him, and he worries. Land prices are still low, “but it’s getting harder to start here. Demand for fruit is [intense],” he lamented. Tasmania makes just 1% of Australia’s wine, but production is expected to skyrocket nearly 400% in the next 15 years. “Corporate investors are buying up vineyards and blocking out small guys,” he told me.

The next day, I visited a couple who’d managed to get in on Tassie’s ground floor. Constance Oliver, who studied in Burgundy, met her husband, James, in the mainland’s Yarra Valley. In 2022, they bought solar-powered Moores Hill Estate in the Tamar Valley, the island’s oldest and largest wine region. Here, vineyards climb the steep southern slope of the River Tamar, facing the sun to the north. Moores Hill sits on a ridge three miles from the river. We hiked to the top of the property, where the breeze coursing in from the Bass Strait had me reaching for my sweater.

Despite the current land rush, the Olivers find Tasmania’s wine scene down to earth. “It suits us,” James told me. They’re just getting to know their vineyard, yet their wines are already beautifully balanced. Lusciously textured from skin contact and with some residual sugar to offset its acidity, their Riesling smelled like springtime and tasted of peaches. 

Riesling reaches its apex here at Pressing Matters in the Coal River Valley, so from Launceston, I swung south down National Highway 1 to Hobart, where wineries encircle the capital city. Pressing Matters boasts a cellar door full of trophies, a menu of luxe snacks, and a range of Rieslings at varying levels of residual sugar. Bone-dry yet lush, the R0 Riesling matched furikake-dusted oysters. The R139 Riesling, which uses grapes affected by botrytis (the fungus the French call “noble rot” for the apricot and honey flavors it lends to wine), paired perfectly with a slice of cheesecake.

The next day, I followed the River Derwent to Stefano Lubiana Wines. Here in the southern part of the island, the arid climate makes biodynamic viticulture possible. As a result, the grapes “really taste of the site. And their aging ability is increased because we get more concentration,” explained Marco Lubiana, a sixth-generation winemaker with Istrian roots. With its on-site osteria, stone-walled underground cellar, and copper still where Marco’s father, the winery’s namesake, makes grappa, the place felt Italian. But the wines tasted Tasmanian. Pinot Gris balanced sweet fruit with a maritime saltiness. Pinot Noir had a sour-cherry ping underlaid by a smoky note.

Even Shiraz, Australia’s signature big red wine, stays lithe here. Kate Hill makes wine in a former apple storehouse amid the green hills and historic orchards of the Huon Valley. Located near the bottom of the island, this is Tassie’s coldest wine region. “We’ve even planted Shiraz, which most people think we’re [foolish] for doing,” she told me as I perched on a stool at her outdoor tasting counter. She harvests her Shiraz grapes so late that the leaves on the vines have fallen already. “But with that slow ripening, we get more intensity and better color, tannin, and body.” Her Four Winds Estate Shiraz has a bittersweet finish yet is floral and peppery.

With Tasmania’s 160 producers making such thrilling wines, there was plenty more to taste in Hobart. Launceston has a sleepy farmland feel, but Hobart is a bustling harbor town with a lively, walkable dining scene. I made my rounds: lunchtime fettuccine with white sugo and a Sonnen Chardonnay that tasted of brûléed pineapple at the café Rosie in My Midnight Dreams; Italian restaurant Fico’s gorgeous prix fixe, served with wines like a 2018 Grey Sands Pinot Gris that hinted of mushrooms and stone fruit; a refreshing Rivulet Sylvaner to wash down a hazelnut-praline chocolate at the happy-go-lucky Sonny wine bar. At Institut Polaire, owner Louise Radman paired snapper in sauce vierge with a Pinot Noir made by her husband, Nav Singh — it was a foot-stomped wine with a Burgundian-style earthiness — and she explained why they’d moved from Adelaide: “We could afford it, and the climate was right.”

On my final day, I lunched at Bangor Vineyard Shed on the weather-beaten Forestier Peninsula. Here, fifth-generation farmer Matt Dunbabin oversees 15,000 acres of land, some of it for grazing and more left wild. Over a meal of buttermilk-battered quail and the farm’s own Pink Eye potatoes, he explained why, 14 years ago, he planted vines on a portion of it. “With global warming, it’s becoming more suitable for wine grapes and less suitable for dry-land sheep farming,” he said. “So this cellar door supports 200 Tasmanian devils, a thousand wombats, wallabies, and other glamorous species that live here.” Dunbabin poured his Late Disgorged Blanc de Blanc, a delicious sparkling wine that melds appley snap with creaminess, and we toasted to Tasmania’s biodiversity, its crystal-fresh air, and the beauty of its wines.

Traveling to Tasmania

Travelers from the U.S. can transit through either Sydney or Melbourne to reach Tasmania. There are direct flights from the West Coast and Texas to both cities, after which you transfer to a domestic flight; Launceston and Hobart are less than a two-hour flight from Sydney and about one hour from Melbourne. The wine regions are easily accessed by car — it’s less than a three-hour drive between Launceston and Hobart. 

Tasmania wine

Dalrymple Vineyards

The cellar door is bare-bones, but the surrounding landscape is breathtaking, and the Chardonnays and Pinot Noirs are divine. Check the Dalrymple Vineyards website for walk-in hours. 

Marion’s Vineyard

The river views, cellar door, picnic platters, and wide range of varietals are all charming at Tamar Valley old-timer Marion’s Vineyard.

Bream Creek

A new cellar door offers Marion Bay vistas at this vineyard tended by veteran Fred Peacock. If you can, taste his Bream Creek Reserve Pinot Noir; its coffee-and-spice intensity is offset by a refreshing finish.

Glaetzer-Dixon Family Winemakers

Fifth-generation vintner Nick Glaetzer runs this urban winery out of an old ice factory. Book a visit to Glaetzer-Dixon Family Winemakers to sample his meaty La Judith Shiraz, arguably Tassie’s boldest red. 

Derwent Estate

A cherries-and-chocolate Pinot Noir goes with grilled lamb at the Derwent Estate restaurant on a historic homestead near Hobart.

Where to eat and drink in Tasmania

Havilah (Launceston)

Get small plates and small-producer wines at this popular spot with outdoor seating on the square.

Bar Two (Launceston)

Cheerful, shoebox-size Bar Two in Launceston serves snacks like charcuterie and cheeseboards as well as hard-to-find wines.

Institut Polaire (Hobart)

Owners Louise Radman and Nav Singh’s Süd Polaire spirits and Domaine Simha wines pair with vibrant fare at this Hobart paean to Antarctic exploration. 

Sonny (Hobart)

Sip the night’s mystery wine, slurp oysters, and groove to the hand-built speakers at this 20-seat, walk-in-only hot spot in Hobart.

Rosie in My Midnight Dreams (Hobart)

Savor your lunchtime toastie with low-intervention wines amid the craft stalls inside Hobart’s airy Brooke Street Pier. 

Fico (Hobart)

The chef-owners lavish top-rate technique on Tassie ingredients at this Italian prix fixe restaurant in Hobart; don’t miss the award-winning wine list.

Lucinda (Hobart)

The fare is locavore, but the sips are international at this wine bar attached to gastromolecular restaurant Dier Makr.

Where to stay in Tasmania

Stillwater Seven (Launceston)

Handcrafted armoires hold 007-level minibars in the seven guest rooms attached to Launceston’s best restaurant. At Stillwater, order the prawn risotto with a glass of crisp, clean Bream Creek Old Vine Reserve Riesling. Rooms from $395

The Henry Jones Art Hotel (Hobart)

This 56-room boutique hotel is located in a historic Hobart jam factory on the docks of the harbor. The Henry Jones Art Hotel is chockablock with artwork and has its own cocktail bar, café, and restaurant. Rooms from $166