If Australia has a version of Napa Valley, it’s surely Barossa Valley, which lies about an hour’s drive north of Adelaide. Like Napa, Barossa is the epicenter of its country’s surprisingly vast wine industry. (Australia has almost twice as many wineries as California.)

Also like Napa Valley, Barossa is the proverbial keeper of the flame, with wineries and even vineyards dating to the mid-1800s. And like Napa, it has traditionally positioned itself as a producer of quality wine, all the while – even in the old days – simultaneously pumping out vast quantities of everyday “plonk” as the Aussies (and Brits) call it.

But there the comparison ends. One simple but profoundly important difference distinguishes Australian wine from American. In America, it’s the small, so-called boutique wineries that set the quality standard and the pace, striving to create ever finer wines in a spare-no-expense fashion. The big wineries strive to replicate this standard as best they can, necessarily doing it on a bigger scale and in a less expensive fashion. The success of America’s big wineries – Gallo of Sonoma, Robert Mondavi, Beringer – is based on how closely they achieve parity with the smaller pacesetters.

Australia, for its part, sees no such cost-no-object benchmarking. Quite the opposite. Here, it’s the big wineries that establish the standard, never mind that Australia’s hundreds of small wineries frequently outstrip the big boys. Yet their influence is faint, if felt at all.

Australia’s giant wineries – Beringer Blass (owned by the big brewery, Fosters); BRL Hardy (now owned by the American wine company Constellation, which recently bought the Robert Mondavi Winery); the stumbling Australian wine giant Southcorp (soon likely to be taken over by Fosters); and McWilliams, among others – own or control through long-term lease roughly 85% of all of Australia’s vineyards.

What’s more, Australia’s most influential promotional vehicle, its elaborate “show system” of regional wine judgings (similar to our state fairs) which bestow market valuable medals on wines, is dominated by judges employed by the winery giants as winemakers or consultants.

Consequently, the “taste fix” is in. Wines are judged not against the benchmark of the small pacesetters (many of which do not even submit their wines to these shows), but on the commercial standards of the giant wineries. (In 1999, I was a judge at the National Wine Show in Canberra, which is the culminating event of the show circuit.)

This is why on my latest trip to Barossa Valley – my third – I sought out Chris Ringland, winemaker of Rockford Winery. Located a cluster’s throw from that icon of Australian wine giantism, Jacob’s Creek, which sells millions of cases annually, the 20,000-case Rockford Winery is a world apart. Rockford shows what Barossa can really do.

Using purchased grapes from Barossa Valley and neighboring Eden Valley, winemaker Chris Ringland is almost un-Australian in his naturalistic, hands-off winemaking approach. Where the big boys impregnate their wines with lavish amounts of vanilla-scented oakiness (often achieved cheaply with oak sawdust or chips, in addition to long aging in barrels), Rockford wines see just 15% new oak barrels, if that. “Oak is not what we do,” Mr. Ringland said.

What he does do, however, is locate vineyards with exceptional grapes, very often from vines that are ancient. Because all of South Australia is free of phylloxera, a sapsucking root louse that destroyed all of Europe’s vines in the late 1800s (as well as California’s vineyards at the same time and again in the 1990s) Barossa and neighboring Eden Valley still have century-old vines.

What’s more, these vines grow on their own roots rather than the grafted rootstocks necessary for phylloxera-infested zones. Some tasters are convinced that these own rooted vines create finer-tasting grapes.

Nobody disputes that such old vines deliver naturally low yields, which in turn result in more concentrated wines with greater flavor subtlety. “I try not to do anything to the wines if I can at all help it,” Mr. Ringland said. “I don’t fine or filter. All the red wines are pressed using a basket press, which I think is much gentler. It’s more work than other kinds of presses – you have to shovel in the skins by hand before pressing rather than using a screw augur – but I think the basket press makes a difference you can taste. The tannins are finer, more gentle, because the grape skins don’t get beat up.”

Mr. Ringland also has his own, tiny label offering shiraz (syrah) from 100-year-old vines. Originally called Three Rivers, a trademark dispute forced him to rename it as Chris Ringland. No matter. A trickle of shiraz – just 700 to 1,000 bottles depending on the vintage – the label has an outsize reputation, thanks largely to American wine critic Robert Parker, who praised the wine unreservedly, giving it 100 points. It is, indeed, flat-out fabulous. Cost? $300 a bottle – if you can get it. It’s all sold through a mailing list handled worldwide by the winery’s American importer, the Grateful Palate.

Mr. Ringland is an uncommonly influential winemaker – but only to a coterie of like-minded small producers in Barossa and, ironically, outside of Australia. He is a winemaking consultant to two Spanish wine producers, as well as some small growers elsewhere in Australia.

When asked if his critical and commercial success had an influence or effect on his gargantuan Barossa Valley neighbors, the diplomatic Mr. Ringland only smiled.

Mr. Ringland’s example – and Rockford Winery’s market success – does, however, resonate with some other local winemakers. Small producers such as Rusden Winery, Kallesky Wines, Teusner, and Glaymond Winery are each striving to issue very fine, small-production artisanal wines that see little or no intrusive oakiness and emphasize profound yet subtle flavors.(All of these producers are also brought in by The Grateful Palate, which specializes in small, highend Australian wines.)

Rockford – and wineries like it – display another side of Australia’s wine ambition, one far removed from the commodity mentality of the vast majority of Australian wines found on retailer’s shelves.

Sure, the big boys are good for the (little) money. But they’re not powering Australia’s fine-wine ambition. For that you need a Chris Ringland – and a culture that celebrates and tries to replicate what he and others like him seek to achieve.

HERE’S THE DEAL

Rockford wines are available from various retailers in New York, although supplies are necessarily small. Smart buyers are well advised to put in orders ahead of time for the just-released (but not yet arrived) 2002 vintage, which Mr. Ringland himself says may be Rockford’s best vintage ever. “It was terrific for both red and white,” he says. “You can’t say that for 2001, which was better for the reds. And I like 2002 more than 1998, which many people think was a near-perfect vintage.”

You can find various Rockford wines from the 2001 vintage, which is certainly a vintage to pursue. But the 2002s are worth securing. I’d suggest the following 2002s (and certainly any currently available vintage for the three wines as well).

ROCKFORD RIESLING “HAND PICKED” 2002, EDEN VALLEY This is outstanding dry riesling, the sort that can take its place with the great dry rieslings from Alsace. The grapes come from Eden Valley, which is cooler than Barossa, thanks to a higher (1,500 feet) elevation.

Sourced from four vineyards, the vines are about 70 years old and grow on their own ungrafted roots. In the 2002 vintage the result is an intense dry riesling with a fragrant, classic riesling scent redolent of lemon and tropical fruits. It’s buoyed by lovely acidity and made memorable by a long, lingering finish that stays in your mouth and your mind long after you’ve swallowed the wine. Although delicious now, like all dry rieslings with real flavor density this should improve for as long as two decades. Approximately $24.

ROCKFORD CABERNET SAUVIGNON “RIFLE RANGE” 2002, BAROSSA VALLEY Many Australian cabernets are big, oaky, brooding bruisers that too often display an unwanted eucalyptus scent. (The reason why is just what you’d suspect: the proximity of eucalyptus trees and their fragrant oils settling on the grape skins.)

Rockford’s 2002 cabernet is nothing of the sort. This is elegant, beautifully balanced cabernet filled with classic, ripe-tasting black currant/black olive cabernet sauvignon flavors. Nobody’s idea of a bruiser, this is deft, graceful wine, the sort you could (and should) serve to your favorite Bordeaux snob. Approximately $50.

ROCKFORD BASKET PRESS SHIRAZ 2002, BAROSSA VALLEY This is Rockford’s signature wine. Barossa Valley is famous for its syrah (the Aussies call it shiraz, from the ancient Persian city of the same name) and the Rockford version is among the standout bottlings.

This 2002 version is a knockout, although it certainly needs more aging. The dense black garnet color reflects the dense, bright-tasting, coiled fruit to follow. You won’t find any apparent oak (hooray!) and the wine doesn’t need any, either. Tannins are supple and fine-grained and the scent and taste remind you of the most delicious blackberry jam. This is great, classic Australian shiraz. Approximately $65.