A fine roast chicken deserves a fine red wine. My roast chook was damn fine. Fresh herbs, garlic and butter stuffed under the skin, lemon in the belly, streaky bacon draped on top and all surrounded by a ratatouille of veges.
So what red to choose?
It seems no Cape wine region has avoided the terror of fire this season. It’s been a long, dry summer, the fynbos and undergrowth tinder dry; fire was inevitable, necessary even to allow regeneration of the fynbos, a process which most profitably occurs every 15 years or so.
It is exactly 15 years since the last major fire along the southern part of the Peninsula and across the Simonsberg (one area spared this year, for which all on these slopes must be profoundly thankful, given the general excellence of the vintage). I covered these 2000 fires for the fledgling wine.co.za website; looking back at my reports I’m surprised by how much crop was lost and permanent damage done to vineyards: 20% crop loss at Delheim, 10ha burnt on Kanonkop, 22ha on Uitkyk, 12ha on Lievland; some of these vineyards were wiped out, others recovered. In one report, Kanonkop’s Johan Krige, wouldn’t commit himself to any predictions ‘I do know that we’ve permanently lost six of the ten hectares burnt; we’ll need another two to three months to find out how much of the rest has survived and another month to see the effect on the ripening of the vines that escaped unscathed.’ On one score, Krige is adamant; `There is nothing, but nothing we could have done different in the face of that wind; the fire was impossible to stop.’
It probably wasn’t pure coincidence that my eye was drawn to the Kanonkop bin when I went in the cellar. Perfect, there were two bottles of 2000 Paul Sauer; one removed for the chicken – the other, well let’s see how this first goes down.
Remarkable; given the hot vintage – both thanks to weather and fire – this is a fine wine, a calm wine, its concentration of sweet fruit holding it together, the tannins being fully melded. Now just look at that back label, optimum drinking window extends just beyond 2014 (possibly because of space?) but it’s spot on. Yes, it’s drinking beautifully now, but I don’t see further improvement. But there won’t be so many Cape reds of that era that would give such pleasure after 15 years.
Game, lamb and pork? You can add a damn fine chook to that list, Kanonkop, a wonderful partner to your damn fine wine!
A recent lunch with a friend at South China Dim Sum was a thoroughly delicious experience. The tasty pan fried and poached wheat dumplings with their various fillings were just some of the morsels that went down a treat. As has become our norm, one pays, the other brings the wine; my choice this
time was Joh Jos Prüm Wehlener Sonnenuhr Spatlese 2004. Delicious in itself, it went perfectly with all the dishes we devoured, even though it was served from glass tumblers. I have to admit I was slightly thrown, given the restaurant has a decent wine list, that it has no proper wine glasses.
Glass tumblers were again suggested when via Twitter, I quizzed my friend and UK wine writer, Anthony Rose as what his guests would drink from, as there were only two Zalto glasses which he had won in a raffle; one for him, the other for his wife, Charmaine.
The Twitter conversation continued by my telling Anthony that tumblers had no adverse effect on the Prüm, at which point Alex Hunt MW claimed that tumblers are perfect for Beaujolais Nouveau and so the conversation moved to other receptacles out of which wine might or might not taste so good.
This all reminded me of a memorable exercise Jancis Robinson suggested in her 1983 book, Masterglass, and headed ‘Why you need glasses’. ‘Try drinking wine out of the following drinking vessels and note how ‘wrong’ it tastes.’ China teacup, pottery mug, pewter tankard, silver goblet, plastic beaker and paper cup. According to Robinson, the last of these is probably the best, ‘affecting the wine’s flavour least’.
Let’s have a go, I said to myself. I’ve done the exercise once before, with a group and probably shortly after the book was published, so I’ve long forgotten the results.
Assembling the various vessels plus a control glass (pictured) proved no problem; for wines, I chose Rupert and Rothschild Baroness Nadine Chardonnay 2011 and Boekenhoutskloof Cabernet Sauvignon 2009; both are consistent in style and I know them pretty well.
In the glass, the Baroness has generous oatmeal, nutty features with a freshening orange citrus thread. It’s ripe but there’s no compromising oiliness, the concentrated flavours are clean and long. Boekenhoutskloof cab is starting to move from primary to a more interesting secondary stage, the tannins to soften, both making it easier to appreciate the rich, ripe dark berry flavours and flesh. Both wines were sufficiently expressive to show for better or worse in the motley selection of vessels.
Clumsiness in hand and mouth, competing flavours from some materials and difficulty in viewing colour were just some of the disadvantages encountered with every vessel other than the glass.
Getting any aromas from the chardonnay was difficult given the splayed rim or lack of inward tilt of the vessels. Taste was less detrimentally affected, though the pottery mug did infuse both wines with a suggestion of coffee, accentuating sweetness in the chardonnay and, strangely, bitterness in the cab. The plastic beaker had an unpleasant roughness and smell but beyond that, the actual drinking experience was more pleasant. Pewter killed everything in both wines. Shape rather than material dimmed aromas in the paper cup, though it proved the least offensive container for either wine. I also quite liked the chardonnay in the silver goblet, partly because of its cool feel but also its elegance (at least the pair were specifically made for wine). It was a different story with the cabernet, where the goblet gave full rein to some as yet unencountered grippy tannins.
As Robinson sums up ‘why you need glasses’ writing glass ‘is tasteless and doesn’t impose any temperature on the liquid inside .. [there’s] the anticipatory pleasure of looking at a wine’s colour.’ She concludes; ‘The best wine glasses therefore are tulip- or near-spherical-shaped and have a stem.’ Adding, ‘The best wine glasses are never the most expensive. Many off-licences sell glasses called Paris goblets for less than 50p each.’ Paris goblets?! Is any glass more vilified today!
If I’m not lucky enough to be offered wine from the Rose’s Zalto glasses, give me their tumblers any day over a Paris goblet!
As a member of the media I’m privileged to receive invitations to many tastings; these include trade events featuring wines from producers represented by the host agent. These are always useful, enabling one to catch up with current and often future releases; enjoyable as the wines are mostly at the upper end of quality.
Quality and interest were on show all round at the recent Ex Animo Wine Co’s event, providing one of the best tastings I’ve been to in a long while. An aside: name tags were hand-written stick-on labels; none of those plastic covered, safety-pin fixed jobs, which are not only environmentally unfriendly but what the hell do you do with them afterwards? They’re not re-useable, as the tag is branded too. Such a waste; please NB everyone.
Ex Animo (from the heart) was started just over a year ago by Aussie import and sommelier, David Clarke and his South African wife, Jeanette, also a sommelier. In that time they have amassed an impressive list of producers, all chosen because the Clarke’s believe they make wines ‘from the heart’; cutting-edge can be added too.
Where to start? My stand-out and favourite of the afternoon seems a good place. The Seccombe’s Thorne & Daughters Rocking Horse 2014 rises way above the sum of its chenin, roussanne, semillon, chardonnay and viognier parts, all fermented and raised in older oak. Breezily fresh scents of wild scrub and dried apples are enticing, while the texture engages the whole mouth; its freshness setting the tongue a-tingle, its firm pithy grip confirming its extra-ordinariness. It’s not a wine easily forgotten, as no wine of real character should be. When it’s released around May this year, the outlay of +-R240 will offer great value when compared with much more ambitiously priced whites of lesser interest. (All prices quoted here are approximate retail.)
Chenin in solo guise was also on great form. I loved both Jurgen Gouws’ savoury, oxidative Intellego 2013 (R107) and Johan Meyer’s Force Majeur 2014 (yet to be priced) in a fresher style but with all the concentration of fruit from 30-something year old vines. Gouws was Craig Hawkins’ assistant at Lammershoek, where the regime change has seen them both depart. (Hawkins’ Testalonga range is also part of the Ex Animo stable.) Being taken under the Ex Animo wing should see the Intellego label deservedly better known. Gouws is equally adept with reds. I could drink oceans of his Kedungu 2014, characterful in both name and make up: syrah, with 30% each mourvèdre and cinsaut. The light-handed touch is evident in its fresh, pure flavours and gentle yet telling support. A no-brainer at just under R90.
Chardonnay – too mainstream for these adventurers? Not at all and they’re up with the best. The Wessels’ Restless River Chardonnay 2013, ex Hemel en Aarde (a shout for their 2011 Cabernet (R300) too; I echo others’ applause), Johan Meyer’s 2014 ex Elgin (R140), Alsacien, Julian Schaal’s Evidence 2013 (R216) also Elgin fruit and Thorne and Daughters’ new Zoetrope 2014 from Bot River old bush vines: each makes its own statement. Elgin is stunningly Elgin, 2013 beautifully reflects that lovely chardonnay vintage and the Seccombe’s natural ferment in older oak is as subtly expressive, as the method allows. Incidentally, Zoetrope is a pre-film animation device that produces the illusion of motion, as in making the horse rock!
Just one more mention (where there could be many) for the whole range from Trizanne Barnard and her four-wine Signature range; the whites from Elim, reds from Swartland, all so graceful and understated and in the R90 to R170 range, excellent value.
Some perspective as to the quantity of wine these ‘column inches’ have covered. Production of Ex Animo’s portfolio of currently 11 producers totals 61 600 cases (x6) or 277,200 litres. The 2013 crop for wine alone was 915 451 775 litres (SAWIS figures); so this top quality level represents just a drop in the wine ocean.
What got me thinking about this was an article in Business Day by Bekezela Phakathi, who reported the Western Cape Government ‘mulls turning cheap wine into biofuel’. Phakathi wrote: ‘The Western Cape government is investigating alternative uses for cheap, low-quality wine, such as converting it into biofuel for tractors and generators as part of efforts to curb alcohol abuse.’
My immediate reaction was, why are we still producing wine of such low quality, but it seems reading through the whole article, the shift in attitude towards top quality hasn’t permeated throughout the industry. One would have to say this includes what SAWIS terms Producer Cellars (the old Co-operatives) and the producing wholesalers, who account for by far the majority of the annual wine crop. The Private Cellars, although much greater in number, account for that mostly impressive but thin layer of cream on top.
Also, I don’t like the idea of channelling this lesser wine for another purpose; it has echoes of the old KWV, which took excess wine from its members and distilled it. An action which encouraged laziness and bad use of land. In the immortal words of André van Rensburg: ‘Let them plant vegetables.’
Pinot noir, grenache noir, cinsaut; there can be few more trendy red varieties in South Africa right now. As their popularity grows, so winemakers are adapting their methods (mental attitude?) of vinification: out go over-extraction and over-oaking, in come focus on purity, gentleness and freshness. Even alcohol levels are going down a beneficial notch or two. It would be wrong to say these attributes apply to every example – they don’t – but generally, this new genre of red wines is growing in number. They make most satisfying drinking without being at all facile.
If it’s not stretching the imagination too much, I don’t think I’d be entirely wrong to claim there’s been a concomitant improvement in the quality of rosé, especially those crafted from those three varieties. They are becoming imbued with more personality; colours, fruit profile and structure are more individual; there is an aura of seriousness about them, leaving behind that often vapid, sweet pink wine of yesterday.
It helps that rosé is fashionable and that there are many young vines which winemakers prefer to use for this style, which requires freshness rather than bolstering tannin. If not all are completely dry, the achieved balance better integrates any residual sugar, giving the impression of dryness.
Few rosés see oak, though it can be successfully employed. I remember being very impressed by and enjoying the maiden Solms-Delta Lekkerwijn, an 04 made from mourvèdre, grenache noir and viognier, which was both fermented and aged in older French oak. It made a telling statement for serious rosé.
Somewhat sadly, to my mind, the latest Solms-Delta Rosé 2014 (Lekkerwijn has now been moved to the back label) is unwooded. I should hastily add, it remains a delightful individual, now a blend of mainly grenache noir with a splash of cinsaut. It retails for R54.99.
It was one of three dry rosés Tim James and I tasted recently, collectively drawing my attention to the stylistic improvements mentioned above.
Judging by this and the Thelema Sutherland Grenache Rosé, the variety really does suit the style. The Solms-Delta version has more of a robust spicy character, well-matched by its firm structure and freshness. No doubt a night on the skins and six months on the lees helped impart and develop both the flavour and firmness. Even with a moderate 12.5% alcohol, it is not so much an aperitif wine as one that will provide more satisfaction with a plate of charchuterie or tuna.
The Thelema wine, also a 2014, is 100% grenache from eight-year-old vines grown on their Sutherland property in Elgin. As one might expect from that cooler area, the spicy, cinnamon aromatics are pure and fragrant; but do not be lulled into thinking this is a delicate wine. Elgin can also produce alcohol; 14.2% in this case. It does show a little heat at the end, but there’s plenty of juicy, flavourful and well-sustained fruit to enjoy as well. Gyles Webb and Rudi Schultz suggest it’s ‘the perfect wine to sip while watching the sun set’. To cut that heat in the tail, I’d be inclined to have a pot of smoked trout or salmon pâté on the go as well.
So to the Fat Bastard Pinot Noir Rosé 2014, made at Robertson Cellar and what an attractive wine it is. More coppery pink than the brilliant ruby grenache wines, but that’s often the case with pinot. It’s so fragrant, like a cherry orchard in spring; pure flavours continue in the same vein; it’s even got a pinot-like suppleness. R80 is on the high side, but it’s worth giving it a try for the sheer enjoyment.
A word of advice to Robertson pinot producers; play to your strengths – bubbles and, it appears from this wine, rosé. You will be taken much more seriously than with red pinots that don’t hit the mark. (I await to pass judgement on the new Fist of Fancy from McGregor fruit.)
Another word on my latest hobbyhorse, packaging. It’s so important for any wine, but especially so for rosé. Fat Bastard wins hands down with its pinky-beige capsule and hippo on the label, an attractive match to the wine colour (visible thanks to the clear flint bottle, used for all three wines). The silver capsule with black and white photo of the Sutherland vineyards is also complementary to the wine and, whilst I like the design of the new Solms-Delta label, the baby pink theme does the wine no favours.
I hate shopping for household goods, a boring, if necessary pastime. I make a list but rely a) on the shelves being organised in an accustomed arrangement (dangerous, supermarkets’ management loves changing things around just as one has got used to a certain lay out!) and b) familiar packaging, in order to whip the item off the shelf without the need for close inspection. A change in those recognisable colours and/or script leads to much frustration. It’s much the same with wine labels; a few, of course, are more instantly recognisable than others; Boekenhoutskloof with its seven chairs comes to mind. But how to go about selecting a bottle from a shelf of unknown wines; likely when in some foreign land or even locally, where the plethora available inevitably means one can’t know them all. Faced with a line-up of unknown wines, if I like what I see with an initial glance at the label and all other features are to my liking, the label would be the final arbiter of choice. I sent a tweet to this effect on the day of the Wine Label Design Awards, only to receive a dissenting response from Jeremy Sampson, Mr ‘Brand’, who averred ‘I buy wines despite the labels. They invariably act as an identifier and not much more.’ Having seen the winning selection on the above Awards, I would again beg to differ with Sampson.
Organised by online magazine, Winemag, the inaugural Wine Label Design Awards, sponsored by Rotolabel, attracted 92 entries; these were whittled down to 14 winners, some single labels, others as part of a range, by the judges. Photos of all winning labels may be seen here The overall winner, Peter Walser’s BLANKbottle (I love the irony of the name) range, shows great imagination of his own design; I’d certainly be tempted to try the wines in the belief that they also show the quality and imagination their packaging predicts. The other gold medal winner, Stellenbosch Vineyards’ Infiniti Noble Late Harvest anticipates a more modern classic style. The label’s emphasis on texture rather than colour does seem to becoming a trend and, in this case, complements the beautiful and unusual bottle; my eye would be drawn to and pleased by both. Information on wine labels – apart from the legal stuff – is so often meaningless and the same old blah, blah. Hats off then to Villiera, who get their environmental concerns across in an innovative and uncomplicated way. On the front label, the green theme is established via the green strip along the bottom, Villiera appearing to be growing from it; on the back label, an icon depicts one of their environmental conservation or sustainable farming projects, at the same time directing readers to a relevant story on their website. All sufficiently appealing to entice me to buy the wine, should I not know anything about Villiera or either of the above wines.
Hopefully this year’s awards are the first of many and new trends will evolve over the years. Prettiness in a busy fashion was a feature common to many of the winners, in sharp contrast to the bolder, brightly coloured labels.
A few days later, a label of a very different character came up for discussion. A few of us were tasting Babylonstoren’s current range with winemakers Charl Coetzee and Klaas Stoffberg on the farm. As Christian Eedes, one of the people behind the Wine Label Design Awards, was part of the company, it was informative to hear his take on the ‘invisible’ label on the (very tasty) Mourvèdre Rosé (pictured here from the distance one would view it on a shelf and close up). The viognier and chenin blanc are similarly packaged. Eedes’ verdict: ‘It wouldn’t make the cut.’ A sentiment with which I agree, though both Coetzee and Stoffberg claim the bottle has attracted much attention. ‘Winelovers are intrigued by it,’ Coetzee says, maintaining there’s been no negative reaction. The ‘positive’ of this ‘negative’ label, as pictured on the Babylonstoren barrel, features a pipe, for the farmer; bird for nature and flower for what’s grown on the farm. On the farm’s new flagship, Nebukadnezar (the Afrikaans spelling is used to avoid problems with the more traditional Nebuchadnezzar), as well as Chardonnay and Shiraz, this logo is in blue on a white background and entirely more legible. It is stark but strangely attractive and, in my humble opinion, more likely to get shoppers to take it down from the shelf. Information on the back label is displayed in English, Afrikaans and, unusually, Chinese (Mandarin). If wine quality is paramount, shabby or unimaginative packaging, including the bottle itself, is as important to portray the sort of image that will attract the winelover to study the wine more closely but also buy it.
Competition in the wine world has never been fiercer. To be noticed takes an awful lot of effort; to be noticed on an ongoing basis requires imagination as well as effort and good planning.
When the Jordan family purchased their now eponymous farm in 1983, they took care to match variety to site, a practice they have followed when planting the additional land they’ve purchased over the years. Although no wine was released under the Jordan label until 10 years later, grapes were sold to other producers and Alphen, a Gilbeys brand (now the home of Kleine Zalze) gained an enviable reputation for their sauvignon blanc made from Jordan fruit.
It didn’t take long for Gary and Kathy Jordan to put their own wines on the map after they returned from California, crushing their first harvest in 1993. There’s a litany of awards that followed over the years, their consistency matched only by the wines’ quality. But today, quality alone doesn’t take you to the front of winelovers’ minds; there are too many wines as good as yours out there.
One of the smartest moves made by the Jordans was to associate their wines with dining. Firstly, by teaming up with fellow South African, Neleen Strauss and opening High Timber in London; this Thames-side restaurant has one of, if not the best range of South African wines in the UK. The Jordans and other wine producers frequently present wine dinners here, all well attended, so maintaining their own and South Africa’s wines in the spotlight. Back home, they enticed top chef, George Jardine, who ran his eponymous restaurant originally in Cape Town to their Stellenboschkloof farm. Today, as well as the restaurant, Jardine started The Bakery & Deli, where not only bread, but his home-cured meat and other delicacies are served either inside or on the deck, overlooking some of the winelands’ most spectacular views. The increased traffic has again helped to shine the spotlight on the wines and, subliminally focus on their quality.
Today, it’s also important that wines tell a story. Since their first 1993 vintage, the Jordans introduced a singularity to their labels by way of a title that had something to do with the farm; Chameleon in that first year – though the majority of the range carried just the varietal name. Like the range, so the names have increased: The Prospector Syrah, Cobblers Hill, Nine Yards Chardonnay, The Outlier Sauvignon Blanc and The Real McCoy Riesling among them.
At last to the nub of this piece, the new and, perhaps most intriguingly named wine of all, Inspector Péringuey Chenin Blanc.
Gary Jordan showed up the ignorance of the collective media present, when he asked: a) where was phylloxera first found in South Africa and b) who identified it? All round silence. ‘A vineyard in Mowbray,’ Jordan tells us. According to Tim James in his Wines of the New South Africa, it was noticed by the French Consul General; not unsurprising, given he’d have seen the same phenomenon in France. Péringuey, in his role as Inspector General of Vineyards, probably positively identified the disease. M. Péringuey was born in Bordeaux in 1855; he came to the Cape, via other African countries, in 1879 to teach French at both SACS and Bishops before taking up a position at the South African Museum, initially as a volunteer, then from 1884 permanently, working on Coleoptera (beetles). Shortly after, he was made Inspector of Vineyards. After identification of phylloxera, he supervised the importation of the louse-resistant American rootstock onto which the various varieties were grafted.
The Jordans decided on naming this chenin, which comes from their 32-year old and first plantings, after Inspector Péringuey ‘as one is a forgotten grape, the other a forgotten man.’ A great story that needed to be told and remembered.
It’s interesting that even though half the wine has been fermented in older, small oak barrels, it has a totally different profile to the other barrel-fermented Chenin Blanc. It’s much tighter, fresher, more vinous and less fruity, promising to mature well. It signals a positive shift in style – yet another talking point to keep Jordan Wines in the public eye.
Say Elgin, think … well, I think chardonnay, but many would say sauvignon blanc and from the point of view of the dominant variety, they’re right. The last SAWIS statistics calculate there are 329.93 hectares of sauvignon blanc in the Elgin Ward, while chardonnay accounts for 101.31 ha. Both are far ahead of chenin blanc, which comes in with a measly 6.41 ha, yet I’ve heard several people comment on how well it should do in this cool climate.
If the two chenins I tasted recently from Spioenkop are representative of the quality Elgin can produce, then that measly 6.41 ha deserves a serious increase, For those who climb in now, there’s plenty of space to make your mark.
My first experience with the home-grown Spioenkop chenin 2013 was for Platter last year, where I noted it a ‘austere yet compelling’. Seven months on, not much has changed: the purity is there, the coiled tension, the full chenin experience waiting to unfold over time. As with all Koen Roose’s wines, it’s fermentation is spontaneous. Roose has also fermented a portion in wood, the effect is well concealed but will surely benefit the wine with ageing.
Similar in its structure to the best Elgin chardonnays, the Spioenkop Chenin Blanc says everything about the variety, yet giving so little now. Like the Alheit Magnetic North Mountain Makstok chenin and Capensis Chardonnay, it wouldn’t win on a beauty contest now – as Wine Cellar’s recent tasting of luxury whites proved, that’s more the realm of the more voluptuous style – but wait until these wines are a few years older and emerge from their cocoons. They are made to age, which Mr Laube might decry, but will offer the sort of pleasure the more voluptuous youngsters do now.
The other chenin, 1900 – an alternative rather than second label, where Spioenkop appears under the name of the battle only (NB the actual date underneath the canon) – is a year older and includes bought in fruit from Stellenbosch. Again, some has been barrel fermented for structure. This wine I hadn’t tasted before (I had the younger but equally promising 2013 for Platter); it makes for interesting contrast with the Spioenkop. The fruit is more evident, providing delightful mellow, melon features balanced by still rivetting vibrancy. If it is the more accessible, it lacks for nothing in ageability.
Roose and his wife, Hannelore are uncompromising in their drive for quality and to express their dramatic Elgin vineyards. Eschewing all herbicides and pesticides, working the vineyards by hand and using only a gentle basket press in the cellar; all they believe helps them towards their goal.
Perhaps the best indicator that these are a formidable pair of chenins is that they survived a Cape summer’s day being carried around in David Clarke’s cool bag, being taken out and poured at various intervals and were still in fine form by late afternoon.
‘Who wants to drink monotonous wines without soul or character?’ queries Roose, ‘Great wine isn’t perfect.’ If the greatness is an ongoing process, the Spioenkop wines already have soul and character in loads.
They also convincingly suggest Elgin can do chenin as well as those other white varieties.
After this past weekend of perusing pinot noir from all corners of the planet in the Hemel en Aarde valley, I’m again reminded of the truth behind Bruce Jack’s evocatively titled The Drift Pinot Noir, ‘There are still mysteries’. There are indeed.
Pinots from the rest of the world are given a clarity of perspective when some excellent Burgundies are thrown into the mix. Along that roughly 50km hilly strip known as the Cote d’Or, reference would be to site rather than variety, pinot being a given. ‘Tell them not to think they’re drinking pinot noir but Chassagne-Montrachet, Volnay and so on,’ Remington Norman had urged Ataraxia’s Kevin Grant before our small, select group got to grips with the six beautifully illustrative Burgundies he’d gathered (just – the wines arrived the day before) for our enlightenment. This sextet acted as a core reference for the global web of pinots I tasted over the two days of the second Hemel en Aarde Pinot Celebration.
Setting the scene were 15 of the valley’s 2013 pinots, representing each of the three Wards. The vintage was a tricky one, dogged by intermittent rain, as each winemaker was at pains to inform participants. A thoroughly amused guest speaker, the bonhomous Canadian winemaker, Norman Hardie, whose eponymous winery lies close to Lake Ontario, pointed out these winemakers needed to work a vintage in Canada to experience really difficult conditions. Hardie knows the Hemel en Aarde valley well, having worked with Peter Finlayson at Bouchard Finlayson during the late 1990s.
The collective spirit generates incremental improvement in the valley’s wines, not least driven by young vines getting older. A better understanding of vineyards and cellar techniques adds to the overall enjoyment and diversity of styles. But a sense of place is frustratingly elusive; sometimes I find the wines from the lowest Ward, Hemel en Aarde Valley, do reflect the slightly warmer conditions, whereas Hemel en Aarde Ridge wines, the highest Ward, are notable for their freshness. This the latter group did with remarkable consistency.
Upper Hemel en Aarde Valley, the Ward sandwiched between the two, is more difficult to pinpoint but my thoughts on similarity in the other Wards is generalised; what Hardie emphasised is that site is the most influential factor; it trumps clones but rootstock plays an important role, affecting yield per vine.
The to-and-fro of the discussion only served to highlight how far we still have to travel. Someone mentioned we’ve currently spent 1/65th of the time Burgundy has had to define and refine its wines.
It should be of some consolation that we’re not alone. The rest of the world’s pinots on show at the celebration all gave evidence, to some degree or another, of a voyage in the early stages. Those which for me spoke most eloquently were Hardie’s King Edward Country 2012, Westrey Oracle 2011 Willamette Oregon, Au Bon Climat 2012 Santa Ynez, California, Burn Cottage 2012 Central Otago (which I was pleased about; the last time I had this wine, the bottle was a shocker), Stonier Merron’s Vineyard 2012 Mornington Peninsula and Yabby Lake Single Vineyard 2012 from the same area. Each was unequivocally pinot, though stylistically they were as different as chalk and cheese.
I enjoyed them and many of our own, I’d be happy to drink a bottle of any of them but I’d be left with a nagging sense of dissatisfaction were I able to afford and indulge in Burgundy, even some at village level.
The line-up Kevin Grant presented, with my briefest comments, ran from south to north: Philippe Colin Premier Cru Morgeot 2011 Chassagne Montrachet (a white wine in a red wine skin); Domaine Henri DeLagrange PC Clos des Chênes 2011 Volnay (charm, fragrance, with supple, velvety texture); Domaine Fernand et Laurent Pillot PC Les Charmots 2011 Pommard (austere, noticeable grainy tannins, underlying silkiness, bone dry); Domaine Arnoux Lachaux PC Les Chaumes 2011 Vosne Romanée (stately, deeply scented, viscous and muscular); Domaine Denis Mortet PC Lavaux Saint Jacques 2011 Gevrey Chambertin (quiet meaty features, sinewy, fine tannins, explosion of flavour at end) and finally, back south to Domaine de la Vougeraie Grand Cru Les Bonnes Mares 2011 Chambolle Musigny (precise, complex, great freshness and huge concentration).
Apologies if my notes are unsatisfactory, but I hope they do indicate the marked differences between each site. A line up of the same site interpreted by several producers would also be fascinating, if add to confusion for Burgundy novices!
The dissatisfaction several of these wines aroused stemmed from their profundity, a level beyond their charm, distinction or overall quality.
Not one of the other pinots from the rest of the world delivered this sense of wonder. ‘What’s the fuss about?’ was Kevin Grant’s question; this is an important answer and remains something of a mystery for all pinots outside the golden slopes.
It was bound to happen and less than 24 hours after the launch of Capensis, social media was alive with comment, not so much about the wine itself but – surprise, surprise – the price: around R935 retail.
Frankly, even with maiden vintages, we should be over this sort of reaction now. I well remember the gasps of horror at the first wine to be given a three-figure price tag (but I can’t remember whether it was from Rustenberg or Hamilton-Russell; can anyone help?). Today, in many instances, R100 is considered good value. Capensis might be the highest priced chardonnay, but it’s certainly not the most expensive South African wine on the local market.
Value is a very movable and personal opinion, not related to price alone. With the right sort of marketing, which I’m sure it’ll receive, Capensis will be the chardonnay to be seen drinking. Of course, with its high price tag, it also announces ‘I can afford it.’
But this discourse does no favour to the wine itself and the people behind it, who are serious about the project and approaching it professionally.
This is a joint venture between Barbara Banke of California-based Jackson Family Wines and Antony Beck, son of the late Graham Beck and the eponymous South African winery. Their friendship, although linked through their love of wine, is cemented via thoroughbred racehorses, which they own and breed in Kentucky, home to Beck and his family. Breeding thoroughbreds is an expensive business, demanding attention to detail: they bring their enthusiasm and success in that field to this latest venture.
Responsibility for the wine is in the hands of Rosa Kruger as consulting vineyard manager and Graham Weerts, winemaker. Many may not remember Weerts, who left South Africa 11 years ago, after being head-hunted by Jess Jackson (Banke’s late husband). At the time, he worked for Douglas Green at Bellingham; I met him long before that when he was assistant winemaker to Mike Dobrovic at Mulderbosch. For me, he was the original Young Gun and I’d earmarked him as a winemaker to watch in future. I didn’t anticipate then that the watching would stretch all the way to California, but he hasn’t disappointed.
The wine was vinified in the Beck Robertson cellar, the fruit – this vintage – being drawn from three different sites and regions. The majority, 60%, came from Fijnbosch, the Banghoek, Stellenbosch farm now owned by Banke and Beck. It’s interesting how these slopes (Bartinney and Oldenburg are neighbours) are now attracting more attention; altitude is again the attraction, the vineyards sitting at 500-plus metres with great exposure and clay soils.
Kaaimansgat – put on the map by Bouchard Finlayson and Newton Johnson – even higher and cooler at 757 metres, accounts for 20% of the final blend, while the lime-rich soils of Ernst Bruwer’s Robertson farm make up the balance
Will this mix-‘n-match of fruit, rather than single vineyard, be a deterrent to those purists who seek a sense of place in wine? It shouldn’t; after all the name Capensis means ‘of the Cape’ but of more importance is that, apart from Fijnbosch, fruit for future vintages may be sourced from other vineyards, the idea being to make the best wine possible. This also means not all the barrels will make the final cut; what doesn’t is channelled into a Graham Beck wine.
Confidence in their wine saw the team put it up, blind, against Olivier Leflaive GC Corton Charlemagne 2012 – its class suppressed by its still angular, reductive youth. Corton for me is the slowest to get out of the blocks of any white Burgundy. I liked the Leeuwin Art Series Chardonnay 2011 more, although it too was unevolved, intense but less awkward. I think we all recognised the Capensis 2013 as being South African with its slightly riper colour and flavours. But coming from this great chardonnay vintage, with its terrific balance and structure, this wine has the legs to mature as well as any more established chardonnay. I kept going back to my glass and finding more. I shall be cellaring for quite a few years the bottle I was kindly given.
Expectations can be overly high for a new wine; big impact is anticipated, especially when a high price tag is involved. In many cases, such impact is all up front but drops off in the glass and with age. That is not the case with Capensis; I do hope some bottles will be given the chance to show with age just what a classy wine it is.
Change can arrive gradually, at a measured pace, or in a flash with suitable fanfare. Evolution of wine styles would, I suggest, be far more likely to happen in the former manner, wild swings being likely to alienate customers and likely not lead to better wine in any event.
Sometimes change is so gradual and undertaken by a relatively small section of the industry that it takes a particular event to focus it in the conscious mind.
Much has been written about the improvement in South African wines over the past ten to fifteen years. In that time, our wines have performed very well on international tastings; while this adds positively to our image, I believe the real test of ongoing popularity with winelovers is how well they go with food. Wines with the WOW factor might brush aside competitors on the show table but don’t necessarily go down as well on the dinner table, nor can they indefinitely hold one’s interest; they are both too loud and without sufficient nuance.
By the same token, the elegance needed in wines that complement a meal also requires presence or authority. Elegance with authority isn’t easily achieved but it is a goal to be aimed for.
Progress was illustrated at a dinner prepared by Michelin star chef, Roger Jones of The Harrow in the UK and held at The Vineyard in Newlands last Friday. The wine side of the event pitted South African wines against Australian counterparts, one pairing for each of the six courses served.
Sparkling wine started things off, followed by riesling, chardonnay, pinot noir, shiraz and dessert wine. Guests voted, via numbered cards on their glasses, for their favourite wine from each pairing – not as easy as it may sound as one could like one wine but the other went better with the food.
Much to my surprise, South Africa won the encounter 5-1, losing out only to the Australian bubbly. It was more the margin of the win than the win itself which surprised. One might say the result was due to a South African palate, although many guests present have experience of international wines, but I divert.
The two wines which alerted me as to progress in capturing that elusive elegance with authority combination, were the Newton Johnson Family Vineyards Pinot Noir 2013 and Eagles’ Nest Shiraz 2011; yes two red wines. The pinot was paired with grilled kingklip with chorizo and vine tomatoes, the shiraz with duck bon bon, parsnip puree and duck tea. The core intensity, even from still relatively young vines, coupled with sensitive vinification and oaking allowed both to shine and complement those dishes.
With a wider spread of red varieties starting to grab winemakers’
attention, this positive move should gather momentum. I say that as grenache noir, cinsault, carignan, even sangiovese, as well as pinot noir, varieties gaining traction with winemakers, don’t benefit from the same treatment as cabernet.
Fortunately, those leading the pack are setting an excellent example by taking their foot off the accelerator and producing wines with purity and freshness. That major favourite, shiraz, in the past has suffered from cabernet-syndrome; today many winemakers are taking a much gentler approach with less new oak.
So that I’m not accused of ignoring white wines altogether, look what’s happened to chardonnay. At the dinner, I was convinced the tight, citrusy fresh wine was from Elgin (it was in fact a smashing M3 Shaw & Smith 2012 from the Adelaide Hills) but that is the style many are striving for, especially in cooler regions like Elgin.
South African wines are receiving much more attention on the international scene, mainly through much improved quality; now is the time for their elegance and authority to receive acclaim.
Now is the time to see more dimming of the WOW switch.