The journey was divided into two main segments, punctuated by brief sojourns in Paris: the first stay was in Ménerbes, an enchanting old hilltop town in the Luberon, not far from Marseilles; the second was at a Château in the small town of Boussac, deep in central rural France and surrounded by a picturesque undulating pastoral landscape.

Ménerbes is always charming, with its ancient buildings and breathtaking views of the surrounding landscape, which is dotted with wineries producing a spectrum of different styles of wine but, being in Provence, with a strong focus on rosé. We visited a few and did some tasting, and some illuminating facts emerged - at one domaine the sales assistant, having guided us through the range, pointed to a bottle on the shelf and said, “That’s my biggest seller”. What she was indicating was the establishment’s non-alcoholic sparkling rosé and thereby hang a couple of tales relating to the state of play of the global wine market.

One is that while said market is currently declining, Provence rosé finds itself in a significantly more buoyant situation; as general French wine exports slump alarmingly, Provence rosé exports have grown in both value and volume. Reasons for this include this style of wine’s premium lifestyle image, which mitigates its often loftier price tag, and the fact that it has transitioned from being a seasonal summer beverage to a year-round favourite has also given it a great boost, both in France and abroad. An added attraction, of course, is that Provence rosé pairs supremely well with a wide range of foods.

The second point of interest is the surge within a surge in global sales of rosé’s sparkling variant, a trend which the marketing boffins attribute to “high aesthetic appeal”. Like its non-sparkling siblings, it has also become a year-round choice as the recent “drink less, drink better” mindset catches on.

Finally, there is a significant swing globally (yes, even in France, where 40% of adults have sought to reduce their alcohol consumption) towards non-alcoholic versions of various beverages, especially among Gen Z and millennials. This has even given rise to a new phrase: the term “flex-drinking culture” is applied to individuals who alternate between alcoholic drinks and non-alcoholic and low-alcohol (No-Low) equivalents thereof. Wideawake producers have not been slow to react to this shift in consumer expectations, so watch this space; we live in interesting times.

At this same winery, Domaine Des Jeanne, we tasted two interesting red blends. Both their flagship Légende and their JJ Prestige Rouge are made from Grenache at around 60% and Syrah at around 40%. Both are excellent wines, very Rhone-style with black and red fruit and great texture, but what I found most interesting was their sharing of hints of what the French call garrigue. This is a term applied both to the vegetation, composed of low-lying shrubbery and aromatic herbs, that thrives on the limestone slopes of southern France and also to the distinct herbal, earthy, occasionally resinous aroma and taste sometimes found in wines from those areas. And now for the most interesting part of the story - that same phenomenon can occur elsewhere, case in point being a recent local bottle of Ampersand Cinsault from Bottelary grapes by Dean Leppan that had, apart from its other excellent attributes, an unmistakeable and appealing herbal, earthy tang of what we here in the Cape call fynbos. Different regions, same phenomenon.

Some superb food and wine experiences, along with the best of company, enhanced our time in the Luberon. Highlights included a lunch at Domaine de la Citadelle, just outside Ménerbes - Tayac restaurant at the Domaine, run by a young and vibrant couple, Nicola (he’s the chef) and Margaux (she’s the vivacious and charming face front of house), serves delightful food that highlights seasonal fresh products selected from their own organic 5-hectare botanical and edible garden and from local farmers. The wine list is equally impressive, embracing a selection of reds, whites and rosés from the Domaine itself. We enjoyed their Court Métrage Blanc, a white blend of Clairette, Chardonnay, Verdejo, Viognier and Ugni Blanc, which really complemented the food, and at 12% ABV it was a great lunchtime choice. If you ever get to Citadelle, be sure to visit their corkscrew museum; it’s very impressive, with regard both to its contents and to the way it has been designed and executed. And to top it all, the view over the surrounding winelands is spectacular.

They say all good things come to an end, but in our case good things seem just to shift sideways to make room for the next one, so after our magical sojourn in Ménerbes we took the TGV to Paris. Arriving late in the evening, which in June in France doesn’t equate to anything resembling darkness, we were exhausted but decided that a short session of people-watching, eased along by a nightcap at the pavement seating of the little bistro on the nearby corner, would be a fitting start to our overnight stay. We were not disappointed. The people-watching is never mediocre in such a city, and an elegant flinty little Pouilly Fumé Croq Silex from Benoit Chauveau, typically 100% Sauvignon Blanc from that part of the Loire valley, enhanced the shining hour.

Next day it was train to Châteauroux en route to Boussac and its Château de la Creuzette to await the arrival of our guests, who entertained and were entertained for five days of fabulous food and yes, you guessed it, wines to match. Listing all of them will keep us busy for too long to remain fascinating, so I will stick to the highlights:

• Top of the list for a combination of quality and novelty value were two wines given to us by our friend and guest from Prague; Frank doesn’t do ordinary, and boredom doesn’t stand a snowball’s chance when he’s around. One of the wines he presented us with was a Czech wine called Sauvignac, the result of a crossing (not a blend) of Sauvignon Blanc and Riesling, and I was unexpectedly very impressed with the fact that it delivered the best qualities of both varietals - dry in the style of a first-rate Alsace Riesling but with added crispness and energy from the Sauvignon. It was a 2021, showing lovely complexity, and I could only imagine how that would improve still further over the next couple of years.

• His second wine, also from the Czech Republic, was a sparkling Riesling, locally termed Sekt. Similarly at the dry end of the spectrum, it conveyed a subtle Riesling character with understated fruit and went down a treat with all present.

• Next noteworthy wine-with-story was L’Idiot, a 100% Merlot from Maison Ventenac in the Languedoc. The name is a playful reference to the notorious anti-Merlot line in the 2004 movie Sideways. All present agreed that no-one should be looking down on a well-made Merlot.

• Then there was a superb red from Château de Roques. From Puisseguin-Saint-Emilion in Bordeaux, it had a cépage typical of that appellation - 70% Merlot, 30% Cabernet Franc - giving it softer tannins than those characteristic of many other parts of Bordeaux. A 2021, it was already very approachable, in contrast to many other Bordeaux reds with their high proportion of Cabernet Sauvignon and its sterner tannins. A lovely balanced wine, with tannins still present but fine and discreet. We also shared a Vouvray, which is 100% Chenin Blanc and comes in dry (sec), off-dry, sweet and sparkling forms, from close to Tours in the Loire valley. This was an excellent example of the dry style of Vouvray, with notes of green apple and wet stone, but I couldn’t help thinking of what Tim Atkin MW wrote early this year in his South Africa Report: “The Cape has definitively eclipsed the Loire Valley as the source of the planet’s best dry Chenin Blancs.” Quite an accolade!

• Also from the Loire close to Tours was an excellent Bourgueil red. This appellation is a stronghold for Cabernet Franc, with a maximum of only 10% Cabernet Sauvignon being permitted in a blend. Most, though, are 100% Franc. A medium-bodied dry wine delivering red fruit notes alongside tomato leaf and capsicum, and with smooth, fine tannins, Cabernet Franc is a food-friendly guest always welcome at our table in the Western Cape, where local examples are a touch fuller and more textured than those from the Loire. In my view it’s a cause for celebration that it is appearing more widely as a cultivar wine in this part of the world.

The time at the Château in Boussac was a memorable one filled with the convivial energy of an exceptional group of people, but that too shifted aside and we found ourselves on the train again, bound for Paris and the final gastronomic highlight of the trip.

Since February 2018 Restaurant Alan Geaam has been the only Michelin-starred Lebanese restaurant in Paris. Located at 19 Rue Lauriston in the 16th arrondissement, it is quite obscure, but as you walk through the door the feeling of unpretentious quality is immediately palpable. The service is impeccable, and the food is rooted in tradition but not weighed down by it; novel touches of French influence embellish the more adventurous facets of the Lebanese foundational fare, and the end results are captivating.

The wine list is also impressive, featuring a fair selection of Lebanese wines alongside the generous European offering. Given the fact that great things are happening in that Middle-eastern arena of the wine world, my only criticism of the whole experience is that a golden opportunity to promote Lebanese wines has been missed - they are not offered by the glass, and that’s a great pity. As it was, I started with a glass of excellent Champagne, then enjoyed a glass of Camin Larredya La Part d’Avant, an impressive white from Jurançon AOC in the foothills of the Pyrénées. Made mainly from Gros Manseng and Petit Manseng, it was delicious, with beautiful texture and complexity that made it a great partner to the whole range of food flavours. A memorable lunch indeed!

One more night in Paris, a touch more people-watching over croissant and coffee the next morning near the Pont Neuf, and we were off to Charles de Gaulle for the flight back to Cape Town.

Next time, the story behind my standout rosé of the trip…

After my previous missive, A tale of two Italians, which dwelt largely on the rescue and revival of threatened ancient vine varietals, I thought it would be appropriate to zoom into close focus on a small winery which Sophia and I have visited, and which is close to our hearts. It is also shining evidence of a passion that embraces heritage vines, biodynamic farming and minimal intervention winemaking and that is aptly expressed in the establishment’s motto, “Un vin de lieu”- a wine of place. The vision of its ownership is “to help shape a modern identity for Lebanese wine - one rooted in history, yet unafraid to chart its own course”.

Exploring the Lebanese wine landscape, both physically and figuratively, will take you on a fascinating journey through history, and it puzzles me that this has remained such an overlooked and undervalued region - aficionados of these wines are possessed of a fervent loyalty to them, and some wineries have garnered international awards, but by and large the wine-drinking public remains oblivious of their charms. Mention Château Musar and there will be a glimmer of recognition on a couple of faces, but for the rest it’s all (dare I write this?) Greek to them.

The viticultural history is impressive, starting with the Phoenicians circa 3000 BC. These were the great sea traders of the Mediterranean and were the first to commercialise and distribute Lebanese wine, among others a sought-after one called Bybline, named after the port city of Byblos (also the oldest continuously inhabited city in the world) and exported to Egypt and Greece. They also exported vine cuttings, helping to lay viticultural foundations for France, Italy and Spain.

Winemaking continued to thrive in Lebanon during the Roman Empire, as evidenced by the Temple of Bacchus, the Roman god of wine, in Baalbek (Heliopolis), built in the Bekaa Valley over a couple of decades around 150 AD. A UNESCO World Heritage Site, it still to this day remains a breathtaking example of Roman architecture.

The Ottoman Era, from 1516 to 1918, caused major turbulence in Lebanon’s viticultural trajectory; alcohol consumption was almost entirely forbidden for all that time, and its only permitted use was as sacramental wine in the Christian churches. Which leads to another interesting aspect of this story: it seems that this was the thin thread by which hung the survival of the indigenous grape cultivars like Merwah, Obeideh and Zitani, which are now playing a pivotal role in the viticultural renaissance currently taking place in Lebanon. More about this shortly - having given you some historical perspective, it’s time for me to cut to the chase and tell you what’s happening high in the mountains not far from the snowline in North Lebanon.

There, at an altitude of 900m above the Mediterranean and 22km inland from the coastal town of Batroun stands Sept Winery, the first and only biodynamic vineyard in Lebanon. Founder Maher Harb grew up in the nearby village of Nehla, then went abroad and ended up working in mathematics and data consultancy in France. In 2017, however, he left a flourishing career to live out his dream of establishing a winery, with a strong emphasis on heritage vines and the wines they can yield, in the land of his forefathers.

The name Sept (French for seven) reflects a tribute to Maher’s father, whose land in the Lebanese mountains was terraced and planted by Maher himself, a gargantuan task involving the planting by hand of 5000 vines. Additionally, in the world of biodynamic agriculture the number “7” is significant with regard to the cycles of sun, moon and earth.

Using practices that include wild yeast fermentation, natural stabilization and minimal filtration, zero additives during fermentation, absence of oak, lees ageing, skin maceration, and a minimum of added sulphite (below 25mg/l total SO2), Sept produces a range of wines that use traditional European varietals like Cabernet Franc, Cabernet Sauvignon, Carignan, Syrah, Tempranillo, and Viognier.

For me, however, the real excitement lies at the more arcane end of the range produced: three varietals, Merwah, Obeideh and Zitani, are indigenous, rare and unique; all are from ungrafted pre-phylloxera vines, which means they date back to before the microscopic root-eating insect decimated vines on a global scale, from around 1850 until the turn of that century. A devastating blow to the world wine industry, the epidemic was only brought under control when it was discovered that grafting European vines onto American rootstock could produce phylloxera-resistant progeny without altering the nature of the grapes. Result: pre-phylloxera vines are scarce and very precious.

In other words, these three varietals used by Maher are confirmed by DNA research to be native vines whose lineage stretches back to ancient Phoenician winemaking. Of the three, Zitani is perhaps the most fascinating - whilst Merwah and Obeideh have been continuously cultivated in the Lebanese mountains since at least the 7th century BC, it was only recently that Zitani was tracked down by Maher, using family photographs and oral histories, to the area of Mayrouba on Mount Lebanon. Having revived the varietal, his Sept Winery is the only one currently vinifying the grape, releasing only around 900 bottles per vintage of a crisp, citrusy wine that represents a living remnant of Phoenician winemaking history.

If you are ever fortunate enough to find yourself in the breathtaking scenery of Lebanon, book a tasting at Sept, and while you’re at it, treat yourself to a memorable meal at the winery, because not only is Maher a maverick winemaker, he is also a gifted chef, and there are worse hardships than to sit al fresco, looking out over this beautiful valley of vines.

Against the current worldwide interest in old vine viticulture, beginning in South Africa with Rosa Kruger’s Old Vine Project and now evolving globally in the form of the London-based Old Vine Conference, a tall, imposing bearded figure stands as an embodiment of the passion, courage and dedication needed to drive a project like this to success. Maher, I can’t help thinking of the words of novelist Anaïs Nin:

Next time, feedback from the French excursion. Santé,

In the far northeastern corner of Italy lies the region of Friuli Venezia Giulia. With the Veneto on its Western border, Austria to the North and Slovenia to the East, it’s off the vinous beaten track and just the sort of environment you might expect to harbour obscure and fascinating varietals. And you wouldn’t be wrong.

Native vines with exotic names like Friulano, Pignolo, Refosco dal Peduncolo Rosso, Ribolla Gialla and Schioppettino, some of which were on the brink of extinction fifty years ago, thrive in the cool Alpine climate and deliver elegant wines typical of this kind of terroir.

If you’re interested in a bit of armchair wine travel, exploring this unassuming corner of the alluring odyssey that is Italian wine will be worth your while. But of course this is not the kind of wine you will stumble across in the corner cafe, or even in most stockists of alcoholic beverages, so best I cut to the chase by telling you about my recent experience that led to this newsletter.

I have a friend who is showing a commendable interest in and talent for the wine world and the stories it has to tell, and so I hijack him from time to time to join me on wine-focussed jaunts. On this particular occasion we headed for Caroline’s Fine Wines in Tokai, which is a treasure trove of fine local wines and is equally strong on wines from overseas. We weren’t specifically on a mission to find Italian wines, but Caroline and I share a passion for things Italian, so I can always be assured that the Italian shelf will not be empty, and that’s the shelf I never miss.

We were not disappointed; my friend walked out with a bottle of Schioppettino by Tunella and I with a Friulano by Zorzettig (red and white respectively), quite fortuitously from wineries not even 3km apart in the prestigious Colli Orientali del Friuli.

Why prestigious? Well, a few factors play a role:

• the soil, known as ponca, is a mixture of sandstone and marl (a lime-rich mud) which adds a saline, mineral quality to the wine;

• the microclimate is unique, the area being protected by the Julian Pre-Alps from harsh cold winds (in this respect it’s a similar situation to Alsace’s wine region) and also exposed to significant sunshine;

• there is a strong focus on indigenous varietals;

• and there is strict low-yield vineyard management together with manual harvesting.

The area has been described as one of Italy’s most respected DOCs.

And the wines themselves? Let’s start with the Friulano, which has a complicated story to it. Previously known as Tocai, or Tocai Friulano, the name change - still a source of annoyance to the locals, with the wine still referred to by many of them as Tocai - came about in 2007 when Hungary’s iconic dessert wine Tokaji became a protected name and all similar-sounding names had to be changed. Legend has it that one indignant local was heard to ask, “Would you change the name of a Ferrari?”

There are slight variations in style of Friulano produced across Friuli, influenced more by microclimate than anything else; it’s not unlike Sauvignon Blanc, but with greater texture and a touch more fruit, plus a definite saline note. A very food-friendly wine, it pairs well with seafood and according to one of my sources, superbly well with prosciutto di San Daniele. Definitely a wine worth acquiring.

Schioppettino has an even more interesting story behind it. It derives its name from the Italian word scoppiettare, to crackle. One school of thought is that this is a reference to the sound made by the large grapes as they pop open in your mouth; the other theory is that it refers to the way the wine can cause explosions when unexpected fermentation occurs in sealed bottles. Be that as it may, now comes the really inspiring part of the story:

By the tail-end of the 1960’s, the varietal was almost extinct, though records showed it had been growing in the area since the Middle Ages. But it caught and held the attention of Paolo and Dina Rapuzzi, who delved into its history and determined that this was a prize worth fighting for. And fight they did - during five years of scouring the hillsides of an area that extended as far as Slovenia they managed to recover 60 Schioppettino vines and within two years had propagated these to 3500. In 1970 they bought their present property, Ronchi di Cialla in the Colli Orientali and then went ahead with the planting project, even though local government at around that time had decreed, as local government does, that Schioppettino be removed from the list of varietals permitted for winemaking. An invidious position to be in, but fortunately vehement outrage among the locals, coupled with political pressure, persuaded government of the folly of its ways and the ruling was rescinded. Which cleared the way for Paolo and Dina, and as Joe Campanale in his seminal volume on Italian wine “VINO” puts it,

The wine itself? We found it elegant and poised, having significant complexity and being reminiscent of a lighter version of Syrah with notes of black pepper, cherries and balsamic. Again, a wine worth experiencing.

So the mission to Caroline’s Fine Wines was, as always, a worthwhile one, and the tales behind the wines quite fascinating, but for me there is a more profound message within this story:

I find it very consoling to know that there are people like the Rapuzzis who are prepared to persevere in the face of opposition and adversity in order to preserve and restore living items of Nature’s legacy on this planet. There are high-profile heroes of mine like David Attenborough and Jane Goodall (now recently deceased) in this world, but the global wine industry has more than its fair share of less famous custodians of our heritage: our own Rosa Kruger, visionary behind South Africa’s groundbreaking Old Vine Project; Spain’s Alvaro Palacios, who revived neglected ancient vineyards in Priorat and Bierzo; Walter Massa, who in the 1980s rescued the near-extinct Timorasso and took it to a level where it has been described as Piemonte’s most noble white grape; the Torres family in Catalonia has revived a slew of these ancient varietals; and the list goes on.

You may well ask where I am going with all of this. Well, firstly I feel the people driving the wine industry can, globally, give themselves a pat on the back; the rest of us can learn from them in their ongoing quest for innovation balanced by a profound respect for tradition, and especially in how they work in concert with Nature instead of against it. Secondly, the presence of this cépage of vision, passion, perseverance and effort goes a long way to restoring my faith in humankind. Humanity could do with more of this, and the world would be a better place.

Finally, a glimpse of the mindset behind this impactful activity, from researcher in this field Antero Martins:

Infinite Game* players indeed!

*A reference to James Carse’s book ‘Finite and Infinite Games’, another piece of groundbreaking work.

Until next time,

Yours in esteem

l

As a born and bred Capetonian arriving in Johannesburg one was supposed to hate every moment endured there, but I was instantly smitten by my surroundings and never looked back - I loved the residence life, thrived on the faster pace of this vibrant city, relished the summer afternoon thunderstorms in all their magnificence, and from who knows where, started being bitten by the food and wine bug.

Perhaps, looking back on it now, it was an act of self-defence in the face of the diabolical food inflicted on us at residence formal dinners and other acts of mass cruelty, but whatever it was, it spurred me to purchase a book which as I sit here typing still rests on a bookshelf not three metres away - Good French Cooking, by Mapie, Comtesse Guy de Toulouse-Lautrec. And the first recipe I cooked from it was her cheese souffle, which by some benevolent intervention by the gods of cuisine, was quite brilliant.

The wine bug followed not long after that. I would be lying if I told you I could remember all the details of how that process unfolded, but it was certainly fuelled by a couple of books that somehow happened into my life, about the global wine picture. I know Hugh Johnson’s World Atlas of Wine was a major catalyst along the way, as were a couple of books by Julian Jeffs, and the end result was that I became totally captivated by the rich tapestry of the world of wine, especially at the European end.

Practical wine experience was limited for an impecunious dental student, so for some time the food activity forged ahead of the wine, and of course this was all way before 1994, when the wine industry here in South Africa could finally cast off the bureaucratic shackles that had bound it for so long and could chart a course towards excellence in place of volume. In those days local production was not delivering the stellar quality we are blessed with today.

But food and wine got back into synch not too long after that; a night-time job running parallel to the studying began to provide funds, and naturally those aspects of life carried priority status.

Is there, you may wonder, any common denominator between my passion for the dentistry I was fortunate enough to practice for forty-nine years and my passion for wine, the activities associated with which have supplanted that practice since retirement two years ago? Well, at the risk of sounding flippant, only the importance of timeous spitting: in the dental chair, although high-volume suction apparatus has relieved the patient of most of the effort, it’s still comforting to be able to get rid of the remaining flotsam and jetsam with a good round of rinsing and spitting at the end of the session; in the wine context, timeous spitting between samples at a tasting will also keep you out of trouble - not only will you avoid possible embarrassment but you will also retain those precious impressions of nose and palate which can easily be reduced to a meaningless blur by swallowing instead.

And yes, you’re right; somewhere along the way there has to have been a game-changer bottle, a wine capable of inducing an epiphany, and such was this one’s impact that it remains etched in my memory to this day.

The year was 1986 and friends had just returned from Australia, bringing bottles of wine as gifts for me. All were excellent, but there was one which towered above the rest. As my friend gave it to me he said quietly “This is a gamble, Paddy. I think it might be over the hill but I couldn’t resist it “and into my hands he thrust a bottle of white wine of 1965 vintage. In those days the Australians had no shame when it came to misappropriating other nations’ appellations, so this bottle’s label proudly carried the title Hunter Valley White Burgundy.

Twenty-one years in bottle for a white wine is pushing the limits by any standard but, ever optimistic, we put the bottle in the cellar and a few weeks later I transferred it to the fridge a couple of hours before dinner on the friends’ final evening in Cape Town.

Everyone held their breath in anticipation as I poured what I hoped was hallowed liquid, but we were not disappointed. The colour was bright gold, but not crystal clear; there was a uniform slight milkiness to it, too fine even to be called a sediment. The nose billowed out of the glass, very complex and without the slightest trace of oxidation, and the palate was rich with tertiary nuances and a long aftertaste. But the striking feature that intrigued everyone was the wine’s youthful vitality; at twenty-one years old it had a remarkable freshness and a beguiling acid lift in the finish that one would normally expect only in a much younger wine.

There was no clue on the label, so naturally the question uppermost in everyone’s minds was whether this was a Chardonnay; that seemed to be the most likely possibility, and we wanted to know what else if anything was in the blend. Fortunately our bestower of magnificence had with him his tome by Len Evans, who is the Australian equivalent of South Africa’s John Platter, so we riffled through the pages, secure in our belief that we were dealing with a Chardonnay and……surprise, surprise - we were being enthralled by a wine that was 100% Semillon. And that, dear peeps, was the first inkling I ever had of what this varietal is capable of. However, I feel it’s only fair to issue a health warning here: dispensing this calibre of wine to like-minded people at the start of a meal and diverting attention away from the food being presented will not guarantee undying popularity with your hostess. Trust me, I was there!

In later years I would do my WSET level 2 and learn that that Hunter Valley Semillon is something of a legend and even more interestingly, that it is known to reach its full potential only after five years or more in bottle. More recently I was provided with further proof of this cultivar’s staying power, in the form of a bottle I bought some years back at Spice Route near Paarl. I opened it a couple of weekends ago and it was everything I had hoped for: Spice Route’s De Bron Semillon 2014 had developed beautifully over the years, delivering unbridled varietal character with its characteristic notes of green fig on nose and palate, but with a wild, raw intensity that I could only describe as thrilling; not a wine for every taste, but the very essence of Semillon. Sadly, investigation reveals that the 2014 vintage was the last of that wine produced, so it will have to remain carved into my memory.

But the great news is that after years of relative obscurity in the Cape, this grape is on the comeback trail. Where for many years it was used almost exclusively in blends (most often in concert with Sauvignon Blanc), it is now being presented more and more as a cultivar wine, and perhaps the best news of all is that a few of these gems are made from Heritage vineyards, some of which date back to 1905.

Which touches on another interesting facet of the current wine scene. This morning a post appeared on Instagram, written by Kathleen Willcox, an American journalist who comments on (inter alia) food and wine. She observes that in the USA the controlling body for the wine industry there “has not established a legal definition for the term ‘old-vine’, which means that if you see the term on a label, it may not mean much at all.” How different things are here in South Africa, where a legal entity exists to protect the value of old vines and the wines they yield - more on this subject and our visionary Rosa Kruger in my Venerable Vino newsletter of August 2024 - click here to refer back.

And so, dear readers, once again I am blessed. Here I am, two years into retirement, and I have filled the vacuum that can so easily blight this chapter of life. I am immersing myself in a world that has long fascinated me. I am reading, writing, exploring, discussing, as well as playing an active role as sommelier in my dear wife’s culinary activities, and I can’t help thinking of an observation attributed to Salvador Dali:

Next time: A tale of two Italians.

Till then, Cheers,

On the wine front, a galaxy of multi-star reds and whites enhanced food and conviviality, and it was hard to choose a standout, but if pushed I would have to say that for me the most memorable was the Vrede Pinot Noir 2023 from Storm Wines in Hemel-en-Aarde. Awarded 96 points by Tim Atkin MW, who referred to it as winemaker Hannes Storm’s “most opulent of his three single-site Pinots” (the other two being the Ignis and Ridge expressions) it was a wine that exceeded expectation. A kolskoot on the part of our host.

All good things come to an end, but this Christmas sojourn had an extra dose of pleasure awaiting us on the road home - our hosts had booked a tasting at Landskein Winery just outside Stanford.

Formerly known as Sir Robert Stanford Wine Estate, Landskein Wines opened its doors, under new ownership and following an extensive revamp, in September 2025. At the helm stands winemaker and co-founder Tariro Masayiti, previously cellarmaster and winemaker at nearby Springfontein, where his reputation was the subject of wide acclaim. In his new surroundings he has lost no time in applying his talent and innovative approach to an impressive new range of wines which we sampled at a very expertly conducted tasting on beautiful rolling green contours at the foot of the Kleinrivier Mountains.

Top of my list was the 2024 Chardonnay, which ticked all the boxes with its beautiful balance of fruit, acid and subtle oak. To my palate, a shining example of what Cape Chardonnay has evolved into.

Then there was a Chenin blanc brimming with energy and gorgeous varietal character, followed by a 2024 Sauvignon blanc, more reticent but with appealing lingering finish.

And then came a couple of memorable reds: a Pinot noir with typical Walker Bay finesse plus an element of Burgundian character all too often absent from otherwise well-made local examples of this varietal; and an intriguing Petit verdot that broke a few rules, in that from a cultivar that normally yields very assertive, masculine wines with intimidating tannins the winemaker has coaxed a much softer, significantly more feminine expression. While purists may raise their eyebrows, the result is a very approachable and moreish outlier of a red wine.

Embracing quality, innovation and entertainment, Landskein (the name is a Gaelic word that refers to the braided appearance of receding silhouettes of distant mountains towards the horizon) is worth a lingering visit, not least because of the added attractions of the platters available at the Parlour tasting facility and for the popular Zesty Lemon restaurant. Like Mr Schwarzenegger, we’ll be back.

Late in November I was treated to an illuminating evening at Ex Animo Wine Company’s premises in Woodstock, Cape Town, where Julien Schaal and his wife Sophie presented some of the fruits of their talents. An energetic and engaging couple, these two divide their time between Alsace, where the focus is Riesling (including grand cru) and Pinot Noir, and Elgin in the Cape, where their range embraces Pinot Noir, Chardonnay, Syrah and Chenin.

Showcased at that evening’s Alsace Masterclass were, first by Sophie Schaal: an AOC Crémant d’Alsace NV (a fine, elegant, bone-dry sparkling wine from 100% Pinot Blanc); an AOC Alsace Pinot Gris 2024 with lovely breadth and texture and a touch of tannic structure that beckoned a food accompaniment; and an AOC Alsace Pinot Noir 2024 with beautiful balance and lingering finish.

Then from Julien came a Riesling tour de force that underscored, in masterly and masterful style, the capabilities of this much misunderstood varietal. These typically Alsace expressions avoid the sweetness of many of their German counterparts; instead, they display, as Sophie so aptly put it, “roundness and creaminess”.

The series went like this: an AOC Alsace Grand Cru Sommerberg Riesling 2023 from granite soils, with great balance and lovely acid in the finish but only showing a part of its true potential; the same wine of 2017 vintage, now offering much richer palate and complexity but still with lively acid, freshness and vitality - starting to show how Riesling rewards patience but still with a long and bright future; an AOC Alsace Grand Cru Rosacker Riesling 2023 from limestone soils; and the same wine of 2017 vintage. The Rosacker is the Schaals’ flagship wine, from their oldest vineyard, planted in 1945 and yielding fabulous texture and finish in both vintages, plus a beguiling salinity (again in both). I could only imagine, having sampled the occasional elderly and venerable Riesling in the past, what this wine would be like years from now.

And then the Schaals presented the pièce de résistance of the evening; from fellow Alsace winemaker Rolly Gassmann came a 2003 AOC Alsace Muscat Vendanges Tardives that took my breath away - not only did this wine possess that vital acidity which in top-tier examples counterpoints the luscious sweetness that characterises late-harvest wines, but its most arresting quality for me was an ethereal lightness of foot that had its fabulous complexity teasing and tantalising the tongue. Fully present, yet elusive at the same time, it was a wine that etched itself indelibly into my memory.

So having lingered, perhaps a tad luxuriously, over some of the treats of 2025, let’s move on to what promises, against the vinous global atmosphere of gloom, to be another exciting year for South African wines.

Until next time,

At the beginning of 2025, the road ahead looked pretty daunting, filled as it was with commitments jammed together cheek by jowl, but looking back on the year we can revel in memories of rich tapestries of experience and travel, with the golden threads of great company, food and wine running through them.

The global wine press is currently filled with dire statistics and predictions relating to the fact that the appeal of wine is fading (especially among the younger consumers) and its sales dwindling. The answers as to why this should be the case are the subject of much discussion; they are elusive, puzzling and often contradictory.

From a personal perspective, though, I’m pleased to report that for us the wine landscape stretching from this time last year to the present day was generously studded with gems of various shades. Let’s take a stroll……

I have already regaled you with tales of our time spent in Italy in June (read more here), so I won’t belabour the point, but standing out from a host of beautifully vibrant and textured Ligurian whites were the Cinque Terre Bianco Anfora di Possa, a skin-contact amphora blend of Bosco and Albarola that was a riveting accompaniment to the plentiful local seafood, and the celebrated dessert Sciacchetrà made from Bosco, Albarola and Vermentino - lusciously sweet, but balanced by a captivating touch of salinity.

Back home on Cape turf we visited Wildeberg Wines (read more in a previous newsletter here) at the top end of the Franschhoek valley, where Stian Willemse treated us to our most memorable tasting of 2025. Winner of copious industry awards, including Winemag.co.za’s Winery of the Year in 2022 and 2023, plus Best White Overall and Best Red Overall in 2023, Wildeberg embodies a fine blend of respect for tradition and passion for innovation. One of the jewels in their considerable crown is a Semillon made from vineyards planted in 1905.

South African Chenin Blanc continued its unrelenting progress towards the pinnacle of quality, a fact acknowledged by wine Tim Atkin MW in his observation that “The Cape has definitively eclipsed the Loire Valley as the source of the planet’s best dry Chenin Blancs”. This past year gave us no shortage of examples of this ongoing wealth of quality, but then one of the attributes of Chenin that I’ve always enjoyed is its wide spectrum of styles of expression and there is one corner of that spectrum where the French reign uniquely and supremely - the sweet wines of AOC Coteaux du Layon in that same Loire Valley.

Made entirely from Chenin, and enjoying the benefits of pourriture noble or noble rot, these are wines legendary for their rich succulence and remarkable longevity. The bottle of Moulin Touchais I opened at our dinner party in August was a 1996 that I had kept for many years, waiting for the appropriate occasion. It exceeded all expectations. Still in its prime, it even succeeded in impressing a couple of wine-world luminaries who were present, and for an idea of its character, I think a quote on this wine from Greg Sherwood MW will do it justice: “Vibrant salty acids, lovely briney focus and rich, pithy length brimming with cognac spice, sweet orange peel, marmalade and nutty cheese cloth complexity.” Not your average NLH by any means!

The wine highlight of September was similarly stellar and equally out of the ordinary; in fact, it was a wine I had read about but never expected to taste, such is its rarity. Commandaria (various spellings all seem to be acceptable) is a sweet amber-coloured dessert wine from Cyprus, and is the world’s oldest recorded and named wine still in production. It is made from sun-dried Xynisteri and Mavro grapes from the Troodos Mountains in Cyprus, and its unique method of production was documented already in 800 BCE. And as if this indulgence generously shared by a dear friend weren’t enough, we enjoyed it after a delicious dinner al fresco in the bushveld, surrounded by silence beneath a radiant night sky. Such a privilege, Michael - the kind one never forgets!

In mid-December we hosted a reunion lunch for our guests from our France trips. We sent out the Whatsapp invitation, and within half an hour we had received a very rewarding response - with the exception of a couple of people who had prior commitments everyone jumped aboard, mostly from Jozi. It was a fabulously festive occasion, with an infectious gees, Sophia’s customarily delectable food, and some very irresistible wines. At the centre of this last selection stood a magnum of a red blend from Lebanon’s Beqaa Valley - a 2014 Chateau Qanafar with cépage 60% Syrah, 30% Merlot and 10% Cabernet Sauvignon, it was a gift from a dear friend who has a deep understanding of Lebanese food and wine, and I could think of no more fitting approach than to share this gem with guests who had already savoured Lebanese delicacies with us across the water in France. It was an ambrosial wine, eliciting glowing comments from the gathering, which included some very experienced aficionados, and my personal assessment is that it was the finest Lebanese red I have tasted. Thank you so much, Johan.

Just before Christmas, we were invited to spend two days with friends at their place in the Swartland of hallowed wine repute. As a gift for our host, I took along a Butler’s Friend (more about this in my next newsletter), little knowing just how useful this would prove to be. As the outstanding host and lover of fine wine that he is, he fielded three venerable old South African reds for the dinner party that greeted our arrival. - a 1975 Zonnebloem Shiraz, a 1987 Overgaauw Tria Corda, and a 1989 Stellenryck Cabernet Sauvignon - and whilst the wines were all remarkably unperturbed and together, the corks were anything but - without the application of the aforesaid instrument we would have failed dismally on all three of these old treasures.

More about all of this next time (no, I haven’t yet done with 2025), but looking back through this letter I am forced to contemplate: am I just extraordinarily blessed, or are excitement, innovation and variety in the global wine arena hiding in plain sight?

Yours in wine,

The timing could not have been more significant, as no more than a week later we found ourselves immersed in a lunchtime interlude at La Colombe, close to Constantia Nek; a memorable experience that was a graphic illustration of the wisdom and accuracy of icon Bottura’s words.

It started by being feast for the senses:

The eyes are the first to discern the spoil. Elegant and understated, the decor has an appealing quirkiness of detail against a background of serenity. From the window next to our table, a view of a small sloping vineyard flanked by tall trees added to the sense of tranquillity. And the aesthetic indulgences continued throughout the meal, via the way in which each course was presented; captivating but never overdone.

It wasn’t long before the surroundings receded, and fragrance and flavour took over, the two swirling together in harmony to deliver delight at every turn, always beautifully balanced and brimming with surprises.

The sense of touch was also taken care of - I always feel that the textures in a dish, both contrasting and complementary, can be every bit as significant as the flavours. Once again, all the boxes were ticked.

And this before the wines were brought into the equation.

The wines

Eleven different wines, in appropriately small quantities, were paired with the ongoing food sensations, and we were secure in the very expert hands of sommelière Michelle to guide us on the journey.

Part of the fascination of the La Colombe experience is the element of surprise - the unexpected lurks around every corner, and in order to avoid depriving you of that pleasure I am giving you an intentionally sketchy pictorial outline of some of the wines that accompanied our cavalcade of courses.

Suffice to say that Michelle’s pairing skills were impeccable, and that there were exciting little touches of theatre along the way:

At one stage you are given a tasting exercise with a chance to identify a mystery wine. You are presented with an opaque black glass into which it is impossible to see, and it can sometimes be surprisingly difficult to know even whether you are drinking white or red. In this case I’m pleased to report that we nailed the varietal but I was wrong about vintage and winemaking approach.

A couple of courses later, you are offered a visit to the impressive cellar, where you are treated to another pairing and a unique and fascinating encounter with a very special Vin de Constance.

Before we leave the subject of liquid refreshment, two other aspects are noteworthy: one is that all wines offered are South African; the second, which we found very unique and impressive, is that if you choose the non-alcoholic route you will be regaled with a succession of beverages tailor-made to complement each dish along the way.

So as the meal drew to a close, five hours after it began, the senses were replete, but there was more to it than that - our minds and souls had been elevated to a new and energised level. We found ourselves inspired by the seamless quality of waitress Melissa’s professional expertise and charm (all five hours of it); by the quiet efficiency, courtesy and considerateness of the team at large; and by the occasional personal appearance and tableside skills of Executive Chef James Gaag.

It was, all in all, a culinary tour de force that left us, as maestro Bottura would put it, with our souls restored.

Chat again soon,

Part of the reason we chose La Spezia as a base for the Italian leg of our recent trip was its ease of access to Lucca, and part of the attraction of Lucca was its historical connection with composer Giacomo Puccini; the other part was a December 2024 article in Decanter magazine that extolled the food and wine enticements of this fascinating city that dates back to Etruscan times. And where food and wine are involved, we and our accomplices can resist anything except temptation.

And so it happened that we made trips to Lucca on two different occasions, which was not at all a hardship - the undulating verdant hills typical of Tuscany lose no time in appearing as you leave La Spezia behind, and they continue to surround you in breathtaking fashion, now backed by more mountainous terrain, as you approach Lucca. Add to this the fact that both visits had festive connotations and you will understand why the city will occupy a special place in our memories for a long time to come.

Once you reach the city, scenic splendour gives way to mesmerising ancient masonry. The name “Lucca” is derived from the Celto-Ligurian word “luk”, meaning a swampy place, and is also said to refer to “light”, as the expanse of water represented an open area in the dark and densely forested terrain.

Originally settled by the Etruscans, Lucca became a Roman colony in 180 BC, and according to local authorities it was at around this time that the first city wall was built, followed at intervals by three others: the second (Medieval) in the 11th and 12th centuries; the third in the 14th century; and the fourth (Renaissance/Modern) in the 16th and 17th centuries. Segments of all four walls can still be seen today, and the present-day structure, all 4.2 km of it, is the only fully intact wall of its kind left in Italy at this time. And within the confines of that roughly elliptical wall is the Centro Storico, or historic centre, where most of the ancient buildings are to be found.

Our first excursion was inspired by my recently-arrived copy of Decanter magazine, in which Tiziano Gallo had waxed lyrical about some must-see food and wine venues in the city. The one that caught my attention was Enoteca Vanni in Piazza del Salvatore, and it didn’t take much bullying from me to get our friends to agree that a pilgrimage to this hallowed address, where the endless cellars beneath a 13th-century palazzo are home to over 50,000 bottles of wine (and spirits) from all corners of the globe, was a sine qua non.

We were not disappointed. Well, in fact initially we were - as we arrived, we were greeted by the sight of the wine shop’s proprietor closing his premises and disappearing for lunch. However, our spirits rapidly soared when we sat down at a table in the piazza outside the adjoining trattoria (still very much open and brimming with activity), scanned the menu and surveyed the dishes that were arriving at adjacent tables - we weren’t going to be let down after all. A tour of the fabled wine cellar certainly could, like most activities in Italy, wait until after lunch.

And what a lunch! A tour de force of flavours and textures, it epitomised the Italian culinary approach that I admire so much - prime ingredients, expertly prepared and without a hint of contrivance or artificiality.

At peace with the world after our ambrosial meal, we entered the impressive space that is Enoteca Vanni, a seemingly tiny shop at ground level, but one which is merely a portal to endless shelves of untold treasures in the cellars below the surface. I can only endorse our Decanter writer’s advice, “Every wine lover should make a pilgrimage to this wine shop”.

Our second visit to Lucca was centred around a memorable birthday lunch. Naturally there was there was shopping involved, and it’s quite impossible to walk about the city without being enticed to take a closer look at the many cobbled piazze and the ancient buildings that beckon around every corner, but the highlight of the day was undoubtedly the lunch at L’Oste di Lucca - Corte Compagni.

All of us, but especially the birthday boy, were made to feel so welcome and spoilt by maitre (and maestro) Vincenzo and his enthusiastic team as we clustered around the perfectly-prepared Bistecca alla Fiorentina and accompaniments both solid and liquid.

The wine of the occasion was equally delectable. A Frescobaldi Nipozzano Chianti Rufino Riserva 2021, it was a fitting accompaniment to the meal (arriving in Cape Town soon after we did, the April 2025 edition of Decanter awarded the 2021 vintage of this wine 92 points).

Navigating Italian wine labels can be a character-building exercise, so perhaps this is a good time to offer a little clarification:

• Frescobaldi is the name of the family that owns the winery and the vineyards that produce the wine,

• Nipozzano literally means “without a well”, a reference to the area’s water scarcity and its resultant suitability to viticulture,

• and Castello Nipozzano is the most historic Frescobaldi property, dating from the year 1000.

• Chianti is the celebrated area of Tuscany in which this Sangiovese-based style of red wine is produced,

• Rufina denotes the sub-region of Chianti where the wine originates,

• and Riserva indicates the quality level - to qualify for this title, wines must be aged for a minimum of 24 months, with a minimum of three months in bottle.

Sangiovese is in fact the dominant red wine varietal of Tuscany, so not only Chianti but also Brunello di Montalcino and Vino Nobile di Montepulciano are Sangiovese-based, as are the red wines of the Maremma in coastal Tuscany, where the appellation is known as Morellino di Scansano DOCG. In the case of Chianti, there are two separate denominations: Chianti DOCG and Chianti Classico DOCG. The latter denomination covers the historical heartland of the region, between Florence and Siena, and has a reputation for producing more complex and age-worthy wines, the result of two criteria:

1. a minimum proportion of 80% Sangiovese (compared to the Chianti DOCG minimum of 70%),

2. and more rigorous ageing requirements (30 months in the case of Gran Selezione Chianti Classico DOCG, including at least 3 months in bottle).

Chianti Classico DOCG wines are readily recognisable by the image of a black rooster (Gallo Nero) located on the neck label, main label or back label. Which leads us to another interesting piece of Italian wine lore…

The tale of the two roosters

Way back in the Middle Ages, after long years of warfare between Florence and Siena for control of the Chianti area, the two republics decided to establish the border between them in an original sort of way. On a pre-appointed day, a knight would ride out from each city as the local official rooster delivered his dawn vocals, and wherever the two horsemen met, the line though that point would become the border between the two areas.

The people of Siena chose a white rooster to wake their knight, and during the leadup to the appointed day they fed the bird well and thoroughly spoiled him. The Florentines chose a black rooster, who was less fortunate - he was kept in a very uncomfortable cage and was starved for days. The result was that on the day of the race the ravenous black rooster started crowing in protest before dawn, and the Florentine knight rode off earlier than his rival, putting a greater distance between Florence and the meeting point, which ended up only about 20 kilometres from Siena. And so, to this day the gallo nero still appears on every bottle of Chianti Classico DOCG.

Until next time, salute, and keep in mind the words of Leonardo da Vinci:

The tasting we booked was one of the most enjoyable I can remember. We were made to feel very welcome by Stian Willemse, under whose expert guidance we explored and discussed at length an impressive range of wines, quickly realising that ordinary is not what the people do around there.

We started on a fairly conventional note with their 2023 Semillon / Sauvignon blanc from the Coterie range. Examples of this cépage are pretty commonplace, but what was interesting about this one was its proportion of 88% Semillon to just 12% of the Sauvignon. Beautifully made in an elegantly understated style, its 2022 predecessor took Winemag’s “Best White Overall” award with 95 points.

Next came the Sauvignon blanc 2023 from the Terroirs range. Made with grapes sourced in the mountainous Banhoek area, there’s nothing shy about this wine. Nosing it, I was reminded of a phrase coined by the late Billy Hofmeyr, who pioneered Bordeaux blends in South Africa, “Dit gaan oop soos ‘n blom” (Afrikaans for ‘It opens up like a flower’) - billowing varietal character, with a palate to match. I note that it scored 91 points with James Suckling, and Platter’s gives the 2022 4½ stars at 93 points.

We then moved into one of my favourite corners of the wine landscape - Semillon. Not always an easy varietal to handle, and one whose promise can take a long time to blossom, it is also capable of delivering ambrosial wines. Wildeberg’s White is one such wine, and the 2022 we tasted was my wine of the day. From 100% Franschhoek Semillon out of bush vines planted in 1905, it delivers depth, texture, multiple layers of flavour and a gravitas that lingers on - 91 points from James Suckling, 93 from Tim Atkin and 5 stars/95 points from Platter’s.

We were then treated to an entertaining succession of less everyday offerings, tangible evidence of the spirit of innovation that prevails at this winery:

• There’s an Amphora Semillon 2023 from the same 1905 Heritage vineyards - aged for nine months in clay amphora, it has already scooped 94 points from Winemag and the award for Best White Overall in their Minority Report (Niche White and Red Varieties);

• Then there’s the Coterie Chenin blanc / Grenache blanc 2023 with a beguilingly exotic earthiness that will complement all sorts of food flavours, including Asian;

• Next came the SKU (Strange Kompanjie Unlimited) range’s The Tea Leaf blend of Chenin, Marsanne and Semillon, a seafood accompaniment par excellence;

• and there are other whites and roses that are worthy of attention, but we needed be mindful of a lunch appointment, so we moved on to take a look at the reds.

The flagship, Wildeberg Red, is from Shiraz 90% and Cabernet Franc 10%, both sourced in Franschhoek. It has garnered recognition from Wine Spectator (90 points), James Suckling (92), Platter’s (93) and Winemag (96 points and Best Red Overall). There’s a host of other reds, too, but the ones that appealed, and subsequently impressed, were the following:

• An unusual 2023 blend of 67% Cabernet franc and 33% Malbec, from the Coterie range - delicious red and black fruit with notes of herb and spice, ending in a flourish of fine tannins;

• The Bosbrand Carignan 2023, with exotic spiced red fruit and very discreet oak, grapes coming from two vineyards in Wellington, one the oldest Carignan vineyard (planted in 1979) in the country and the other slightly younger.

All in all, the Wildeberg visit was an inspiring one; great wines, crafted and presented by a team whose vision, it seems, is imbued with a sense of place and a resolve to interfere as little as possible with Nature. A quote from their own description of the Wildeberg White sums up the attitude quite succinctly:

Until next time,

La Spezia is a port city, large enough to accommodate huge ocean liners, which nestles in a bay on the border between Liguria to the Northwest and Toscana to the North, East and South. The reason for our choice was that it put us just outside of the busiest tourist concentrations yet still within convenient striking distance of all five Cinque Terre towns plus Genoa, Portofino, Portovenere and Lucca, and not all that far from Firenze and Como. It turned out to be a superb choice, with wonderfully picturesque historical buildings and a waterfront boasting some great eating establishments with very intriguing wine lists.

The Cinque Terre

…literally translating as “Five Lands” is a string of five breathtakingly scenic towns perched on the vertiginous slopes of the southeastern half of Liguria’s coastline. They are, from North to South, Monterosso al Mare, Vernazza, Corniglia, Manarola and Riomaggiore and are accessible via rail from La Spezia, as motor vehicle entry is restricted. Of the five, only Corniglia does not have the railroad running directly through it, but a stiff walk or the free shuttle bus will get you there with no fuss. Partly because of an unforgettable dinner involving the ultimate seafood risotto, which we would have missed had it not been for the unbridled enthusiasm and energy of the friend who was with us, Corniglia with its more tranquil demeanour turned out to be our favourite of the five.

These little towns which are on so many bucket lists famously rival each other in atmosphere, aesthetic impact and photographic potential, as well as in boating and bathing opportunities, but what is mostly overlooked is the area’s viticultural significance, which is both epic and unique.

Let’s start with the topography. There are some dauntingly steep slopes in the vineyards of this world: the banks of the Douro, the Mosel and the Rhine are impressive enough, but at 400m tall in places, the cliffs to which these Cinque Terre vineyards cling stand literally head and shoulders above the rest. So there’s no hope of any mechanical aid in the form of tractors or harvesting machines. Which means extreme physical exertion in every facet of tending the vines, plus an ongoing battle against the spectre of erosion, in spite of the fasce (low-profile dry-stone walls aka muretti a secco) that support the terraces. Originally built centuries ago, these are an effective countermeasure to this threat, but they require maintenance, which like every agricultural undertaking here involves strenuous effort.

So there you have the main factor which warrants the term viticoltura eroica (heroic viticulture) that is often applied to the winemaking activities of Cinque Terre. Joe Campagnale, in his meticulously researched book Vino, puts it another way:

So this is not an enterprise for the faint-hearted; the extreme conditions are reflected in the fact that only one region of Italy produces a smaller volume of wine, and that is Valle d’Aosta, of similar terrain. Every drop of these authentic, terroir-true wines has to be achieved via blood, sweat and tears, and there was a time, a couple of decades ago, when viticoltura eroica in the Cinque Terre was heading for extinction. Mostly worked by elderly (often octogenarian) farmers, the cliff-hanging vineyards were doomed to be abandoned when their owners died - the youngsters who ordinarily might have taken up the reins baulked at the arduous nature of the life, and either went into local tourism or were seduced by the charms of urban living. And so from 500 hectares cultivated by 200 growers in the 1950s, area under vines actively tended dwindled to 80 hectares shared by about 120 growers.

But a more uplifting chapter of this tale has been opening during the past couple of decades. There are shafts of light in the gloom; the terroir here, like the scenery, is attractive enough to entice the more valiant and passionate of vignerons - I like to think that something is stirring in the soul of our species that prompts more evolved humans to take up cudgels in order to preserve precious aspects of heritage like ancient vineyards.

Looking in greater depth at the terroir, the slopes of sedimentary rock offer varying compositions of clay and sand, limestone and marl, giving favourably acidic soils in this eastern stretch of Liguria, and the slope and texture of the ground provide excellent drainage, which in turn encourages the vines to drive their root systems to greater depths. And that is a known and significant bonus. Then there’s the climate: as long as the vines are of varietals resilient to wind, the ever-present sea breezes exert a positive influence in the form of a cooling effect in summer and an antidote to the cold winds coming periodically off the Alps. Additionally, the fasce, like the large stones in the vineyards of Châteauneuf-du-Pape, provide a thermostatic benefit by absorbing heat during daylight hours and then releasing it during the cold darkness of night. All good stuff for the grapes.

But the great catalyst in this renaissance stems from the efforts of local wine cooperative Cantina Cinque Terre in the province of La Spezia. By pooling resources, streamlining systems and adding improvements such as the installation of mini funiculars to ease the burden of transporting heavy loads up and down, this enlightened establishment has added sufficient attractiveness to local enterprise to offset a lot of the inherent hardship. Back from the brink indeed!

The Wines

Wind resistant and hardy they may be, but don’t imagine that the vines of Cinque Terre are lacking in finesse. On the contrary, all the wine lovers present were exceptionally impressed.

Broadly speaking, Liguria is renowned for light-bodied reds in the west around Genoa, and complex, textured whites in the east (also known as the Riviera di Levante) around Cinque Terre, which is where we’ll keep our focus, and we’ll touch on a couple of other noteworthy gems.

Local varietals Albarola, Bosco and Vermentino form the substance of most of the local whites. Pigato, a cultivar considered by many to be a variant of Vermentino, is also used, but mostly in the western area near Genoa. The threesome above perform admirably in the Levante’s marine terroir - soil, slopes and sea breezes conspire to yield authentic, textured, complex wines with predictably saline nuances. Again predictably, they pair superbly well with the fine seafood dishes one encounters around every corner, and they richly reward the patience needed to lay them down for five years and beyond; thinking we were pushing the limits, we purchased a Cinque Terre DOC Pergole Sparse (scattered pergolas) 2018 and from the same winery a Vigne Alte (high vineyards) of similar vintage. With bated breath we opened them and were indeed richly rewarded. Tartrate crystals there were, but I have never been intimidated by any sort of sediment and the wines were sublime - depth, texture and complexity had only improved, yet still with a bracing marine energy.

A local treat worth hunting down is Sciacchetrá, a passito dessert wine that uses the same trinity of varietals but puts the grapes through a process of air-drying to concentrate the contents. The result is a decadently appealing mélange of honeyed sweetness with savoury notes of citrus peel, dried fruit and herbs. The best will tail off with a lingering, refreshing spark of acid. Great with cheeses, pastries or fruit cake.

And then there’s the one that got away. In his Vino book, Joe Campanale tells of a sparkling wine made by Pierluigi Lugano of La Cantina Bisson winery in Sestri Levante. Made from Bianchetta Genovese (considered by some cognoscenti to be the same as Albarola), it is called Abissi, and its claim to fame is that the bottled wine is submerged in the Bay of Silence in Sestri and cradled by the sea for eighteen to twenty-six months. The result is described by Campanale as wine that is brisk, lemony and gently effervescent. Now for the tragedy: I found this wine, which is like hens’ teeth, in La Spezia at the little shop where I bought the two bottles mentioned above, but I decided to go back for it another day. And yes, you’ve guessed it; that never happened. At my age I should know better, but c’est la vie!

And to end with, some good news. What generally gets palmed off as Liguria’s regional speciality, pasta (usually one called trofie) with pesto Genovese (basil pesto), is only half the story, and we encountered in many places the same thing over there as we do here. The traditional full nine yards of this dish, however, as served in the more serious restaurants in Liguria, also contains fine green beans and potato, which add immeasurably to the texture and flavour of the dish. So where’s the good news in that? Well, not always, but now and again, the genuine article appears on the menu at A Tavola in Wilderness Road in Claremont, Cape Town. I still remember how astounded I was to discover how vastly superior the original is to the substitute. So Buon Appetito!

Fino alla prossimo volta - until the next time,

I read one of your previous articles and loved it. Personally I prefer red wine anytime. I don’t mind the tannin but I don’t like excessive sulphites.

What struck me in your article is that Merlot is considered to have a medium to high tannin level whereas I have always believed that it is quite low on tannin. I have also believed that Merlot is always used in a typical Bordeaux blend to counter the high level in Cab sauvignon.

As regards Pinotage, isn’t interesting to note that the crossing of Cinsault and Pinot Noir (both low on tannin) has created a new cépage «Pinotage" which has according to your article a medium to high level, I think often a rather high level.

Thank you for your perceptive comments on the tannin question – I found them very thought-provoking, and so I spent most of the morning delving into some of the aspects involved. What emerged could almost be the subject of another newsletter!

Let’s first look at the pinotage aspect, as that’s simpler. I went back to the tannin chart, used by Wine Folly and also Reddit, to check my facts, and sure enough, they list pinotage in the medium to high tannin category, which I think is fair enough as terroir and cellar treatment will influence the outcome with any cultivar. Which doesn’t change the fact that your observation is correct – given its parentage, one would expect pinotage to be a lot less tannic than it turns out to be.

Looking at merlot, again the charts generally put it in the medium to high tannin category, which I agree seems to run counter to logic, since it’s merlot ( with some influence from cabernet franc) that largely accounts for the difference in character between Right-bank Bordeaux and Left-bank Bordeaux. You are quite correct; merlot is used to temper the cabernet’s more austere tannins, given which I would have expected greater separation on the spectrum between the two varietals, but they are generally ranked quite close together.

Which got me thinking: are we correct in viewing this question strictly in terms of quantity of tannin in a given wine, or should we give more attention to the idea that there are different qualities of tannin i.e. does merlot maybe have softer tannins than cabernet? This thought got me reading further, and I came across this:

Tannins in merlot and cabernet sauvignon differ in quality and character.

Cabernet sauvignon typically has more pronounced, robust tannins, often described as firm or structured. These tannins contribute to the wine’s ageing potential and pair well with bold flavours.

Merlot tends to have softer, more approachable tannins, resulting in a smoother, more fruit-forward taste.

On the subject of charts, the comments were equally interesting. They are mostly regarded as an attempt by their authors to simplify for the average reader something that is inherently a very complex subject and as much an art as a science. The regard in which they are held seems to range from imprecise to utterly useless. I view them as a useful navigational aid for exploring the wine world.

Thanks so much for your input – I found it very stimulating, and I learned a lot by delving deeper.

Looking forward to further discussions,

I happen to be one of those people who find it relatively easy to establish a habit, and mostly that’s quite an advantage. But to everything there is a downside, and in the current context it’s the fact that people like me can all too easily fall into a rut from which we can be very sluggish to emerge.

My enthusiasm for good table wines is beyond question - my credentials get waved in your face on a monthly basis - but that kind of passion can deepen the rut and cause one to overlook other delights. Happily, a long overdue wakeup call on Easter Monday put me back in touch with a delight I had been missing out on for some time - the sweeter, fortified side of the wine experience.

The scene was an ambrosial Easter lunch with friends. It started with lemongrass soup, then moved on to the most succulently flavoursome lamb I have tasted for some time, and then, via a delectable Ciambella Romagnola (a traditional Easter cake originating in Emilia-Romagna in Italy), culminated in a cheese course that embraced a very mature Camembert and a mellow Langbaken Williston from the Northern Cape town of the same name. And to crown it all and complement the cheeses, a magnificent 2008 Cape Vintage Port from Muratie.

To be honest, I had forgotten just how captivating the pairing of cheese and port can be. As usual, though, there is a caveat - while one of the great attributes of wines like these is their ability to harmonise with strong cheeses, including blue and salty ones (think Stilton, Pont l’Eveque, Roquefort, aged Gorgonzola, very mature Cheddar and aged Taleggio), some caution is needed when considering milder varieties. Here, the texture and tannic weight of Ruby, Tawny or Vintage Port (White Port is a different creature altogether) can easily overwhelm the more fragile flavours of the cheese. What made this particular pairing work so well was that the cheeses were at a perfect stage of maturity (with not the slightest hint of ammonia, a common failing in mature Camembert), while the port’s reined-back sweetness, dark chocolate notes and gentle tannins delivered a beautiful balance. It was a memorable lunch indeed.

Before we move on to other options at the sweeter end of the wine spectrum, I owe you some clarification. Those of you who have been frowning at my recklessness in bandying the term “Port” about with such abandon can relax; your misgivings are justified, or would be, were it not for the fact that the vintage on the bottle is 2008, so it predates January 1st 2012, which was the date on which legislation came into effect prohibiting the use of the terms “Port” and “Sherry” by South African producers.

Since that date, SA port-style wines carry labels such as Cape Tawny, Cape Vintage etc, except when Sebastian Beaumont’s impish sense of humour intervenes, as it did around 2016, and dubs his blended Port-style dessert wine from Bot River “Starboard” instead. This, by the way, was a wine that caused a great stir and went on to take 5 stars and the Fortified Wine of the Year Award in the 2018 Platter’s.

In the Sherry arena, sales have been declining globally for many years, and the SA legislation referred to above dealt the sector a mortal blow. These days, the remains of our local Sherry-style wine industry are referred to as, well, Sherry-style wines; a sad state of affairs, given that a glass of good fino (local equivalent is pale dry) at the start of a meal has few rivals in priming the tastebuds for approaching delights.

Other sweet options

We’re in very forgiving territory here: dessert wines, by and large, work very amiably with cheese, especially with the salty ones, a fact which puts a host in quite a comfortable position. Also, it’s a large category, embracing Jerepigo, Muscadel, Hanepoot, natural sweet, noble late harvest, and special late harvest, to name but a few, so there are many options to choose from.

Then there’s the fact that these wines tend to flatter a variety of cheeses, and in different ways - the sweetness will cut through pungency and act as a useful foil for saltiness in the cheese, but will also enhance the creamy texture of milder cheeses. So here is an arena where you can really push the envelope a bit without too much reservation - just try and match the strength of the cheese with the texture of the wine and you won’t go wrong. The only potential pitfall is the presence of the seriously sweet accompaniments like the preserved figs that are sometimes found on cheese boards; here, the advice is just to make sure the wine is sweeter than the preserves.

The sparkling

Sometimes, as we touched on in the earlier newsletter about white wine with cheese, it’s nice to go back to something lighter after the main course is over, and there’s something quite refreshing about reconnecting with bubbles at this stage of the meal. Champagne , a good MCC, or a dry Crémant will definitely rejuvenate the tastebuds, and a different style of cheese from what we just discussed becomes appropriate. There’s quite a list of suitable candidates: included are soft cheeses like Brie and Camembert; triple-cream cheeses like Brillat-Savarin from France are great though very hard to find, but a personal favourite of mine in that category is Fairview St Louis, readily available at Woolworths; the nutty tang of hard cheeses like Parmesan, Cheddar or Comté provides a nice contrast with these wines; and Feta and goats’ cheeses like Crottin and Chèvre pair just as successfully as they do with Sauvignon blanc.

The pink

To end on a rosy note, let’s begin by remembering that there’s quite a spectrum of different styles in this bracket, none of which will survive the heavy artillery of the pungent cheese brigade. So we need to restrict our choices to the lighter-bodied cheeses. Strictly in alphabetical order these include, but are not limited to, the following: Brie, Burrata, Camembert, Chèvre, Comté, Crottin, Emmentaler, Feta, Fontina, Halloumi, Havarti, Mozzarella and Ricotta.

Just a quick heads-up! We will shortly be running a culinary week in France. followed by a week in the area where Liguria rubs shoulders with Toscana. Images and stories are bound to follow. You have been warned!

Until the next time, Cheers!

Currently presenting a young and trendy image, rosé has nevertheless been around for a long time - there is evidence that the ancient Greeks enjoyed it, and the Romans are known to have been devotees of Provençal rosé during the period when their Empire ruled that territory. Then in the Middle Ages a pinkish violet-coloured version became popular in Bordeaux and soon afterwards in England. Interestingly, it was to this wine that the word “claret”, from the French word clare, meaning clear, was initially applied. Later, the meaning changed and the word came to denote the red wines of Bordeaux.

The market for rosé has long been a fickle one. Presently accounting for 10% of global still wine consumption, popularity of this style of wine shows marked regional variations: sales have dropped in France, Italy and the US (this prior to the installation in the White House of the Orange-crested Caligula), whilst in other countries, including central Europe, Oceania, Canada, Spain, Greece, Portugal and South Africa, sales during the last few years have displayed an upward trend.

So what’s the fascination?

Well, maybe we’re all more in touch with our feminine side than we realised, but there’s something aesthetically very pleasing about all of those different shades of pink, especially if drops of condensation are slowly trickling down the frosted surface of the glass; implicit in the appearance is a promise of something young, refreshing, light, almost ethereal.

Then there’s the spectrum of different styles, which is increasingly wide and innovative, so there are more and more options to choose from. Traditionally there have been three different approaches to the making of rosé:

• Direct pressing, where red grapes are gently pressed and the skins left in contact with the juice until the colour reaches the desired level of pinkness,

• Short maceration, where grape skins are macerated for a short period before pressing and fermentation, the resulting colour of the wine being darker with longer contact (this approach includes the saignée method, in which a proportion of juice is “bled” off before it has absorbed too much colour, while the rest goes on to be made into red wine),

• Blending, where a small volume of red wine is mixed into a greater volume of white - this approach is not permitted in most EU appellations, rosé Champagne being an exception to this rule.

From way back when, rosé wines have carried with them an image of frivolousness and an associated perception of compromised quality. Towards the end of the 20th century, however, with Sacha Lichine, owner of the celebrated Château d’Esclans in Provence leading the charge, a rosé renaissance began, with its epicentre in Provence, and today these wines have in many instances become worthy of more serious consideration. Increasingly, winemakers across the globe are employing techniques to add complexity to them, with a fresh emphasis on ageing, maturation and expression of terroir. Extended skin contact and lees ageing are now being used to impart texture and more complex flavour profiles, and geographically the net has been cast more widely - currently there are excellent examples emerging from South Africa, Spain, Italy, Lebanon, Greece, and even from the chillier (for the time being) climes of England and Bordeaux. And a spirit of innovation continues to prevail - a couple of years back, Prosecco suddenly began to sport a rosé version which exploded in popularity because, market research tells us, it is perceived as being of higher quality, more elegant and more feminine than its white equivalent. And so, as with Beaujolais, the tatters of a previous reputation have been cast off - frivolousness has been replaced by an insouciance rooted in elegance, quality and novelty.

How to navigate this sea of pink possibility? Again, there are no hard and fast rules, but a couple of guidelines will help:

1. Colour is not an indicator of sweetness, nor of quality. A darker rosé is likely to give you greater weight and texture and more tannic grip, but that’s about as predictable as it gets.

2. Don’t underestimate the food-pairing potential of rosé; there is significant delight on the road ahead. Again, a couple of caveats, and if you can lay your hands on a copy of Victoria Moore’s incomparable ‘The Wine Dine Dictionary’ you will be richly rewarded - her ever-practical advice on this subject includes the following:

   “The trick for picking the right rosé is to think first about sweetness and secondly about power. With any savoury and non-spicy dinner, I would pick a dry rosé. The very best dry rosés are those made in Provence….. Though very pale to look at and delicate to taste, these wines have an unexpected tenacity and hold. The more herbaceous and savoury they are when you drink them without food, the more power they seem to have when you drink them with dinner.”

   For more assertively-flavoured dishes, Ms Moore writes,

   “I’d pick a rosé with more bite: perhaps a sangiovese rosé from Italy……. or a rosé that is still dry and savoury but has more oomph, such as Adi Badenhorst’s Secateurs rosé from South Africa, a Rioja Rosado or a rosé from Lebanon. Lebanon is almost secretly making superb rosé wine. ”

   She continues:

   “The presence of spice and especially chilli can strip a wine of its flavour………This effect is easily counteracted by picking a wine that is not perfectly dry….. So rosés that are off- or even medium-dry are a gift for spicy Asian food.”

3. Storage and the staying power of the wine can be significant. First of all, remember that the clear glass of most rosé bottles renders the wine more vulnerable to the effects of ultraviolet light, so be very circumspect about where you store your cache. Given, most rosés are made for early drinking - think young, fresh, vibrant, “juicy” - but in general the less UV the better, and if you’re storing the more complex kind of rosé mentioned above, that will repay some laying down, then this principle becomes more crucial.

And to round off our rosé ramble, a handful of personal favourites:

• Widely regarded by local devotees as the most Provençal in style of Cape rosés, Lievland’s Liefkoos is pale, dry and elegant. Cépage is syrah, mourvèdre and cinsault. Not the least expensive, but so worth it.

• Adi Badenhorst’s Secateurs, mentioned above, has more colour, texture and savouriness. Made from cinsault, grenache and syrah, it handles a wide range of food without missing a beat.

• I recently tasted Vrede en Lust’s Jess for the first time, and I am most impressed - also pale, dry and elegant, and at a very good price. From pinotage, syrah, and grenache.

• The value-for-money prize here goes to a wine I mentioned in my New Year Musings of 25 January (click here to refresh your memory). Awarded 3.5 stars in Platter’s, the Protea Dry Rosé from Anthonij Rupert Wyne has elicited glowing commendation in some overseas reviews, and in my view, rightly so. Also pale, dry and elegant, it offers Provence-style panache at a pittance.

Next time, we look at cheeses in concert with rosé, as well as with sparkles and sweet wines. Until then, santé,

To make sense of the equation leading to harmony between wine and food we need to examine a few variables, most influential of which in this context are acidity and tannins. Yes, body is a factor, ranging from light through medium and on to full-bodied, but “body” in wine is a composite term denoting how a wine feels, rather than tastes, in the mouth, and it results from the interplay of alcohol content, sugar, acidity and tannins; for our purposes, as we examine the reactions between red wine and cheese, it’s the tannins that are the major game-changer that can ambush you in your quest for pairing harmony. Victoria Moore, in her wittily written The Wine Dine Dictionary, has this to say:

“The fantasy of cheese and wine is that a cheese plate is a civilized way to carry on drinking once the main bit of dinner is over. The reality is that much cheese murders much red wine (or vice versa).”

My suggestion is that you shy away from what has become the customary over-generous selection weighing down the cheeseboard and present your guests with one superb cheese (or maybe two that are compatible) alongside some carefully considered wine.

Now, what to consider?

1. First rule of thumb, which I touched on in my previous newsletter, is that the chances of the cheese component of the merger overpowering the wine are greater than vice versa, so that’s where your caution should be focused.

2. Secondly, we have to remember that there are no guarantees or hard and fast rules. The best we can hope to offer is a set of guidelines, and while tannin levels exert a powerful influence on accompanying food flavours we need to be ever mindful of the capricious nature of other factors like terroir, winemaking techniques and bottle age. So, when we consider the list below, arranged in order of increasing tannin levels, please remember it’s a useful aid; it’s not an instruction manual.

So let’s begin with the low-tannin collection:

• Barbera

• Cinsault

• Gamay (from which Beaujolais is made)

• Pinot Noir

Inherently gentle wines, all of these are courteous companions to mild cheeses such as not-too-matured examples of Bel Paese, Brie, Camembert, Comte, Gorgonzola, Pont l'Évêque and Provolone. Additionally, the inherently elevated acidity of Barbera, Gamay and Pinot Noir keeps them comfortable with goat’s cheeses, where Cinsault would mostly be a little out of its depth, lacking as it does the acidity of the others.

Next up, red wines with medium tannin levels:

• Carignan

• Carménère

• Grenache

• Malbec (Argentinian)

With a common denominator of mellow nuttiness of flavour, the following cheeses are a good match for these: Asiago, Cheddar, Emmentaler, Gouda, Gruberg or Gruyère, Manchego, Munster and Taleggio.

Medium to high tannin wines:

• Cabernet Franc

• Cabernet Sauvignon

• Malbec (South African or French)

• Merlot

• Nero d’Avola

• Pinotage

• Rhône blend (Syrah and Mourvèdre with either Grenache or Viognier)

• Sangiovese (from which Chianti is made)

• Syrah / Shiraz

• Tempranillo (main component of red Rioja)

No shortage of choice here, but as tannin levels climb we need to tread more cautiously - wines listed above can confidently be served with Camembert, Cheddar, Double Gloucester, Gouda, Manchego, Parmesan and Taleggio, all of them well-matured to stand up to the wines’ more assertive mouthfeel, but a few individual characteristics are also worth mentioning: Cabernet Franc’s lower tannins and elevated acidity compared with the rest of the group enable it to cozy up to goats’ cheeses without discomfort; Merlot’s soft fruitiness and more voluptuous tannins make it a great companion to a mature Brie, and even to some of the more pungent blue cheeses; and the slightly sweet nuttiness of mature Gouda pairs sublimely with the savoury smoke-and-tobacco notes of Shiraz, more intensely so if the Gouda is a smoked one.

And now for the heavy artillery, the high-tannin collection:

• Bordeaux blend

• Nebbiolo

• Petit Verdot

• Petite Sirah

• Tannat

• Touriga Nacional

With its customarily high proportion of Cabernet Sauvignon, a typical Bordeaux blend will pair comfortably with the cheese list for medium to high tannin wines.

Italy’s noblest cultivar and one of its most exalted, Nebbiolo’s dark fruit and fine tannins are known for their ability to slice through the creamy richness of Northern Italian cuisine, so it comes as no surprise that this varietal handles cheeses like Brie, Feta, goat’s cheese, Burrata, and washed-rind cheeses like Taleggio with aplomb. Also, it complements aged Parmigiano-Reggiano and Pecorino in fine style, especially if the Pecorino happens to be truffled.

With the remaining four wines in this category you can feel confident that their tannic character will harmonize well with the assertive flavours of aged examples of Cheddar, Gouda, Gruberg or Gruyère, Manchego and Pecorino. They also pair well with Grana Padano and Parmigiano Reggiano, as well as with Gorgonzola, Stilton, and the smoked versions of Gouda and Pecorino.

So yes, notwithstanding the preference of many experts for pairing white wine with cheese, there is plenty of delight to be found along the alternative red wine route. After all, it’s easy to walk on water if you know where the stepping stones are.

Coming soon: Cheese in the company of pinks, sparkles and sweetness.

Santé,

And that was it! It would be decades before what was then Simonsberg Cheese began to push the envelope with more exotic fare, and now, to the profound delight of us devoted cheese-lovers, we are spoiled for choice, with a burgeoning local industry (both cottage and commercial) delivering superb quality. Add to that the ready availability of a host of imported examples and the conclusion is inescapable - not only are we in the pound seats (as we dwelt on last time) where wine is concerned, but we have before us the wherewithal for endless mouthwatering permutations on the cheese-and-wine pairing stage.

But there’s a challenge…

The challenge, of course, is to maximize the enjoyment, and the road to that destination is potentially a winding and rocky one, a detailed examination of which could fill a book, never mind a newsletter. So we need to grade the road for a less bumpy ride by looking at a couple of basic principles:

Let go of old notions

1. First, let’s dispel the widely accepted notion that red wine is the ideal pairing partner for cheese - it isn’t. In her wonderfully comprehensive book The Wine Dine Dictionary, British writer Victoria Moore goes as far as to say that in this context “White wine is almost always better than red.”

2. Secondly, as a rule your cheeses are more likely to overwhelm the wine than vice versa, so don’t succumb to the temptation of opening an ancient and venerable wine to accompany a ripe and rugged cheese of any description. In fact, even seemingly gentle cheeses can sometimes throw a fine wine into disarray.

3. Thirdly, it’s worth remembering that the acid and tannins in wine are precision instruments; use them with care and skill and you will be richly rewarded. By way of example, Sauvignon blanc is not the first varietal most would choose for the cheeseboard, but aimed at the right cheese it can be sublime. More about this later.

4. Remember that not all parts of a cheese are equal; with Brie and Camembert, for example, a mature and crusty rind will have a much more combative interaction with the wine than will the creamy contents within.

5. Number five: it’s not only about balancing intensities of flavour; often the mouth-coating creaminess of even a fairly mild cheese will block the taste of the wine.

6. Finally, extra caution needs to be exercised where blue cheeses are involved. Few table wines will complement flavours in this league - you may need to head for the fortified corner of the cellar.

“How can you govern a country which has 246 varieties of cheese?” Charles de Gaulle

How, indeed? And if you multiply the number of cheeses available globally by the total number of wines, the resultant figure is dizzying, so for simplicity’s sake I have decided to be content with a list of the most popular varietals and styles of wine available in SA, each accompanied by a selection of cheeses that will do them justice.

Sauvignon blanc

Very popular in this country, this is a cultivar which is typically (and sometimes too) high in acidity, a quality which makes it a brilliant partner to goat’s cheeses like Chavroux, Chevin, Chèvre, and Crottin. Bottom line - if it’s made from goat’s milk, it will be a winner with Sauvignon blanc (always remembering that the wine should be from the flinty rather than the fruity end of the flavour spectrum). I have had great satisfaction over the years, watching the expressions of delight on faces of guests treated to this particular combination of flavours.

Feta, originally made from sheep’s milk but now mostly from a mixture of sheep’s and goat’s milk, and in some cases even from cow’s milk, also pairs well with this wine, as do Asiago, Caerphilly, Haloumi, Lancashire, Mozzarella, Ricotta, and Wensleydale.

Chenin blanc

Currently dominating the global Chenin scene, South African Chenin has a wide spectrum of different styles of expression, firmly planted in the riper, more rounded range than its French counterparts, which give it greater flexibility than Sauvignon where food pairing is concerned. Basically, the dry versions will work with the same selection of cheeses listed above, to which you can then add Gruyère* (but then you need a sweeter Chenin) and Havarti (with an off-dry example). Note that Chenin from the Loire Valley can have a greater spectrum of sweet options than in the Cape wine region of South Africa, which opens up a whole extra range of possibilities on the cheese front. *local SA equivalent Gruberg

Chardonnay

With great balance now being consistently achieved between fruit, acid and oak, wooded Chardonnay is rich in possibilities for pairing with cheese, and unoaked equivalents are also not to be overlooked.

Oaked versions work well with Brie, Camembert, Cheddar, Comté, Emmenthaler, Gruyère, Parmesan, and Pont l’Eveque. Unoaked Chardonnay is more at home with younger, milder examples of the above, as well as Havarti, Port Salut and young Taleggio. As a general principle, Chardonnay is best kept away from pungent and high-acid cheeses like Chevin.

The Aromatics - Gewürztraminer, Riesling and Viognier

With their shared exotically floral and fruity nuances, these three varietals, especially Gewürz, can stand their ground against some quite assertive slabs of what author Anthony Burgess once referred to as “lactic solids”.

The list of compatible cheeses is similar for all three, and here it is, with a brief caveat: remember that Riesling displays significant variations of style, influenced by terroir, winemaking techniques and bottle age (see my earlier newsletter about this complex varietal).

The list includes Boerenkaas, Comté, Gruyere, Munster, ripe Pecorino, Pont l’Eveque, Raclette, and ripe Taleggio. Nothing, in fact, from the faint-hearted end of the flavour continuum, but still nothing harsh and overwhelming.

To conclude our sortie into white wine possibilities, let me leave you with the thought that it’s often a revitalizing novelty to return to white wine as you leave your main course behind and edge towards the cheese.

Alex Moreau of Domaine Bernard Moreau, Chassagne-Montrachet, has the following to say:

More and more I like to drink Chardonnay with cheese. It works better than red. Also it’s good to go back to a white when you have a long dinner, more refreshing.

And to point you in the right direction in your quest for less readily available cheeses, beyond the very commendable selections offered locally by major branches of Checkers and Woolworths, a handful of contact details:

1. Around Cheese - find Jane on Insta (@aroundcheese) and at the Oranjezicht City Farm Market

2. La Cotte Inn - cheeses arrive from France at regular intervals

3. Giovanni’s Deli in Green Point for local, French and Italian cheeses

4. French Market in the Gardens shopping centre in town

5. Klein Joostenberg Deli on the R304 outside Stellenbosch. French chef Cristophe Dehosse will often have amazing French cheeses at a very reasonable price, in the cheese fridge.

Next time (not too long from now, I promise) we’ll survey what can be done with reds and stickies in the presence of exciting cheeses.

Until then, santé,

Then comes New Year, which for me is always an energising time: it represents an opportunity to do things differently, and hopefully better, this time around; the main commotion is over, and the social pressure has diminished a bit; and as a result, the tempo slows, and life can be savoured at leisure.

And it was in this sweet spot that I spent lunchtime yesterday with one of my ‘young old friends’ currently visiting from abroad.

It may be that the ambrosial food and legendary wine list at our favourite local Italian restaurant, A Tavola, where we were sitting, played a role in the route our conversation took, but I am inclined to think we would have headed in that direction anyway, perhaps just a touch less swiftly - our minds are never far from the subject of food and wine.

There was, as usual, lots to talk about…

We spent a bit of time enthusing about the food in front of us (A Tavola’s vitello tonnato, which makes intermittent appearances on the menu, is a particularly fine example of its species), touched fleetingly on the fact that Cape Town had recently once again garnered Condé Nast Traveller’s coveted Readers’ Choice Award for best city in the world for food, and then after comparing notes on some highlights of 2024’s travel experiences we settled into a lengthy discussion on the state of play of South African wine in the global arena.

It was an edifying conversation which reinforced my long-standing opinion that we South African winelovers are in many instances quite unaware of how blessed we are regarding the quality of our wines in global terms. British wine writer Tim Atkin MW agrees, saying recently that the nation is currently “producing the greatest wines in its history” adding that “better viticulture and site-selection, superior virus-free plant material and a broader palette of grape varieties that don’t need new oak to show their best all confirm that there isn’t a single style that South Africa doesn’t do well. And the wines are improving with (almost) every vintage.”

All this is good news for SA consumers, but the best news of all, despite occasional rumblings from the chronically ‘ungruntled’ (author Robert Ruark’s wonderfully expressive homemade word) about rising wine prices, is that we are still in an enviable situation regarding quality wines with bargain price tags.

Partly to furnish proof of ridiculously good value for money, and partly because someone recently asked me to provide her with a list along those lines, I thought I’d push the envelope and do some cherry-picking in the lower strata of the price spectrum, so herewith 3 examples each of red, white and rosé wines at under R90.00 per bottle:

Red wines

• The Wolftrap Red Blend 2023

  Price: R74.99

  From Boekenhoutskloof, a beautifully balanced Rhône-style blend of Syrah, Mourvèdre and Viognier. Superb with lamb.

• Nitida Roxia Red Blend (no vintage)

  Price: R74.99

  Has the bearing of a decent Bordeaux-style blend: black fruit dominates red; gently assertive tannins; will keep and reward.

• Alvi’s Drift Shiraz 2022

  Price: R89.99

  Nice quaffer; notes of black pepper, like more traditional Shiraz rather than Syrah.

White wines

• Stellenrust Chenin Blanc 2023

  Price: R89.99

  Great varietal character; dry, with creamy notes of ripe apple and pear.

• Nitida Roxia Sauvignon Blanc 2024

  Price: R74.99

  Crisp, dry; good varietal character at grassy end of spectrum. Nice acidity, not overdone.

• Alvi’s Drift Viognier 2024

  Price: R84.99

  Nicely balanced, dry but with restrained floral notes; elegant, not blowsy like some Viogniers. Food-friendly.

Rosé

• Boschendal Blanc de Noir

  Price: R79.99

  Medley of different red varietals yielding red fruit supported by crisp acidity; delightful tannic lift in the finish.

• Alvi’s Drift Pinotage Rosé

  Price: R84.99

  Dry, with well-judged red berry fruit. Handles food with aplomb.

• Protea Dry Rosé

  Price: R89.99

  Pale onion-skin hue. Bone-dry, quite Provençal in character.

Please remember…

• The list above represents only the tip of the iceberg - other examples of this kind of value are legion, and I set the bar arbitrarily at R90.00 per bottle; if the price tag was a couple of Rand over, the wine was left on the shelf.

• Also, all wines were tasted recently, because quality doesn’t always remain at the level we remember.

• Prices given are mostly from Checkers, some from Spar.

I hope you have some fun with this!

Until next time, Santé

“I often wonder what the Vintners buy One half so precious as the Goods they sell.” from the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. Persia, 12th century

At this point in history, given the current levels of wine quality globally, the conundrum is even more enigmatic, but the answers are right behind it, in the form of some beautifully written, enlightening and entertaining books about wine and the fascinating world it encompasses. All of them are sure-fire tonics for busy vintners and weary others with an interest in the subject; for best results, wrap festively and place beneath Christmas tree.

In no particular order, here are some of the gems I have been lucky enough to read (and in many instances reread) in recent times:

Like the fine wines about which he writes so eloquently, Hugh Johnson’s penmanship continues to improve with the passage of time. As if to underline this, my latest Decanter magazine arrived yesterday and contains a masterly and drily humorous account of a recent uproarious tasting of Burgundies in London. Now 85 years old, this doyen of wine writers has a regular column in Decanter, and has written many wine books, none of which has ever failed to entertain me, but the volume which should be in every wine lover’s library is his The World Atlas of Wine, which he co-authored with Jancis Robinson. First published years ago, it gets updated on a regular basis. Not cheap, but exhaustively crafted and imposing; a real asset.

From the largest to the smallest on my list - closely resembling an early Platter’s guide (vintage around 2000) in size, Katinka van Niekerk’s Food and Wine Pairing Guide, co-authored with Brian Burke, has long been one of my treasured possessions. It is a shining example of comprehensive and meticulous research driven by an infectious passion for the subject and bolstered by long years of experience.

To illustrate the point, a bottle of Pinot Blanc came my way not long ago, and I needed some guidance on what meal to pair it with. This is a scarce varietal here in SA, so my scepticism about finding what I needed was running high as I opened Katinka’s little book. I should have known; there it was, a thorough summary of Pinot Blanc’s qualities and its potential for complementing food.

This is an elusive book, but well worth tracking down and very reasonably priced. I occasionally still see it in bookstores, both new and second-hand, and if you find a copy, be sure to grab it with both hands. My own copy, now inscribed and autographed by Katinka since I was lucky enough to attend one of her courses, is kept in a very safe place.

The history of wine as it has woven its way through centuries, cultures and continents is a fascinating subject; two books about it came my way recently, with a very interesting and locally relevant connection:

Wine & War by Don and Petie Kladstrup carries on the front cover the following inscription - The French, the Nazis, and France’s Greatest Treasure - and on the back cover tells of “the alternately thrilling and harrowing story of the French wine producers who undertook ingenious and often daring measures to save their finest and most precious crops and bottles as the Germans closed in….” It’s a gripping read, not least in the way it analyses how the upper echelons of the French wine industry and those of the German war machine realised only too well that when the war came to an end, the two nations would still be neighbours and that it would be in the best interests of both sides to maintain as civilised an association as possible under prevailing conditions. Definitely a book worth reading; I have just done so for the third time.

In it, mention is made of a 14-year-old girl, the daughter of one of Bordeaux’s most prominent Chateau-owning families. The book describes how the young May-Eliane helped her father, Edouard Maiahle, with the preparations that saved their precious wines from being discovered by the invading Third Reich. And then the story continues - that same resourceful lady, now 99 years old, earlier this year published a book, entitled My Journey with Wine, which is available now on the shelves and which I am currently reading. The 14-year-old girl mentioned in Wine & War is none other than May-Eliane de Lencquesaing, now owner of Glenelly Estate just outside Stellenbosch.

An engrossing tale of discipline, adversity and triumph throughout a life lived to the full, from the vineyards of Bordeaux to those above Stellenbosch and with many an intriguing twist and turn in between, it is keeping me very entertained.

With their customarily impeccable timing, the good people behind Platter’s Wine Guide have just launched their 2025 edition, the 45th since inception. You can’t have one yet - in my experience there’s normally about a month’s gap between launch and the time this neat (not any more so) little volume hits the shelves, but it’s certainly a worthwhile aid to navigating the ever-burgeoning SA wine market. I buy one every year.

And now for mention of my favourite wine writer. I have alluded to Andrew Jefford’s books before, as beacons of enlightening prose about wine, and indeed he has been described as “our most thoughtful wine writer”. He has a regular column in Decanter magazine and is also one of the organisers and judges of the annual Decanter World Wine Awards. His contribution to the world of wine is immense, and if you haven’t already done so, you should at this time be buying, for yourself or any other wine lover that means a lot to you, his latest book Drinking with the Valkyries. An anthology of his writings spread over some years, it’s a fairly recent release and I saw a copy in a bookshop just a few days ago. It’s one of those rare books that I revisit on a regular basis, each time finding a new thought.

Jefford is a maestro of English writing, and he writes with style and flair that give wings to some pretty profound and weighty scientific stuff which somehow becomes lyrical. It’s writing that’s hard to describe, so perhaps it’s best to give you an example in the form of a quote from a recent review of his about a new book written by Marc Millon, entitled Italy in a Wine Glass. In Jefford’s words:

“We half-know so much about Italy, all of us, but - as with her wines - we know nothing entirely; our knowledge is scattered tesserae, spilled out across the floor. What Millon has done is skilfully position the tesserae, both factual and artistic, into a mouthwatering mosaic ………… Millon writes fluidly; he tells his stories with carefully marshalled assurance. There’s significant scholarship here, worn with modesty; feast on the bibliography if you wish. I hope this wonderfully enjoyable book inspires others. We need more wine books that reward reading from beginning to end.”

Any idea what’s at the top of my wish list for Christmas?

My June and July newsletters were about our food and wine adventures in May and June in the South of France, where the inimitable Sophia Lindop wowed local food and wine lovers with her flamboyant Lebanese fare.

After that, we were back home in Cape Town to endure the most brutal winter the Western Cape has seen in many years. In fact it was only the prospect of the second part of this year’s French gastronomic experience that kept us upbeat through the cold and gloom; yes, my lovely wife Sophia had been invited to hold more cookery classes in France, this time in a different part of the country. And the experience exceeded even our high expectations, so much so that there has been a wave of bookings for next year’s event at the beginning of June.

Are you beginning to see why I regard myself as the grateful garçon?

It’s hard to know where to begin to describe the experience, but since this is essentially a newsletter about wine, I will try to keep it brief.

It starts with the surroundings: situated in the very centre of France, Boussac is a commune in the Creuse department in a part of the country often referred to as La France profonde - the authentic “deep” France where time seems to stand still. And in the middle of the town of Boussac stands the 18th century Château de la Creuzette, waiting to embrace guests in the hospitality and elegance of that time in history.

Add to this ambience a group of spirited guests with a shared passion for food and wine, throw in day trips to local markets, wine showrooms and noteworthy gardens (including the garden of the medieval Prieuré de Notre-Dame d’Orsan above, which provided the inspiration for the breathtaking Babylonstoren garden just outside Cape Town) and you have the recipe for a memorable fest of culinary creativity and delight.

And now for the wines.

De Verra, manager at La Creuzette and I had great fun pairing wines from the Château’s significant cellar with the edible treats produced by the skilled hands of those who attended Sophia’s cookery classes, and the feedback from around the dining table was all very positive.

And Life is full of surprises - unexpectedly, the wine that caused the biggest stir, measured both in decibels and in millilitres, was a Riesling from Thirion & Fils in Alsace. Bone dry, in the style typical of that region, it was reined-back and elegant, with balanced acidity, and there were many excited comments about the absence of the terpene/petrol character that is often all too prominent in a Riesling. We paired it with sumac salmon skewers with parsley oil, served on wilted spinach, and the match met with universal approval. And quite serendipitously (hard on the heels of my previous newsletter in which I lamented the average consumer’s lack of understanding of this varietal), the whole exercise served as a graphic illustration of just how appealing good Riesling can be.

The next standout wine experience (this measured in terms of quality and of generosity of spirit) came via an outing to a nearby vintner’s establishment; one of our guests bought a couple of bottles of Chenin blanc from the Middle Loire AOC’s, plus a very special Vin Jaune from the Jura, and on arriving back at the Château, proceeded to open and share them with the group. The Chenins were beautifully balanced, with varietal character more restrained and less prominent than most from the Cape, and the Vin Jaune was utterly unique and captivating. Thank you, Mark - these “little” gestures are not soon forgotten.

The Beaujolais we selected to accompany Sophia’s roast chicken with za’atar and honey did not disappoint, but then it wasn’t just a Beaujolais. Far be it from the French to make things clear to the visiting foreign winelover - Beaujolais is a small region, just North of Lyon, where Gamay is the dominant cultivar and generally delivers light-bodied fruity reds with gentle acidity and great affinity for food. In the not-too-distant past these characteristics were taken to extremes, and the appellation’s reputation was sullied in an annual headlong dash to get the wine bottled in record time - the so-called “Beaujolais de l’annee”, mostly a product of carbonic maceration and little else. More recently, good sense has prevailed and the focus of attention has shifted firmly back to quality, epitomized by wines of the high-lying Beaujolais-Villages appellation and the even more exalted 10 Crus of Beaujolais. With these, a more traditional winemaking approach is taken, yielding more serious, complex wines worth keeping for a few years and then serving with more subtle dishes.

The 2022 Morgon “Corcelette” by Fabien Collonge impressed everyone at the table. Morgon is one of the central Crus in the appellation, and the wine showed the red and black fruit and discreet acidity that were expected, but with attractive concentration and texture that set it head and shoulders above generic Beaujolais. A great accompaniment indeed to the understated spiciness of the chicken dish.

And then along came the tuna galette with artichokes, green olives and tomatoes! Globe artichokes in any shape or form will demolish most red wines, and the other ingredients, individually or collectively, signal the need for caution in wine selection. Happily, though, we were not found wanting, and the guests even had a choice. Many a Provençale or Languedoc rosé will take tapas-style flavours in its stride, and Gérard Bertrand’s Cote des Roses from the Languedoc strode manfully through all of them without any collateral damage. Personally, though, the wine that took the equation to 1+1=3 for me was a cheeky little white blend from AOP Saint-Chinian on the western edge of Languedoc-Roussillon. A Saint Laurent Excellence, with a cépage of Grenache blanc, Roussanne, and Vermentino (which the French call Rolle), it stood up admirably to the assertively tangy flavours in the galette; to my palate, near-perfect balance.

One of the scourges of consumerism is the Overbored (yes, correct spelling) Husband Syndrome. The scene is an all-too-common one in the context of supermarket shopping, the result, I am told, of scrambled hunter/gatherer software. To those husbands wishing to avoid the wrath of the Domestic Authorities while displaying remarkable valour in the supermarket aisles, I am happy to offer a simple solution; just let it be known that you can be found in the Wine section and then quietly evaporate and make sure you are where you said you would be. And so it came to pass that I was cruising the aisles in said Wine section of the supermarket not too far from the Château in France. A newly- opened branch of the Super U chain, it displayed signs of newness and accompanying enthusiasm, perhaps most obviously around, yes, the Wine section! There was even evidence of a campaign to promote more obscure facets of the industry, with words like Corbières and Picpoul de Pinet lurking between all the usual names. The Corbières I bought has yet to be tasted, and I don’t doubt Fiona Beckett’s favourable assessment of it, but the Picpoul at around €5 was really good value - with saline notes, green apple and citrus, it’s a wine reputed to be great with seafood (and my personal addiction, Caesar salad), and my single encounter with it gave me no reason to doubt that. This one was from just West of Montpellier, and apparently some small quantities have been planted in the Western Cape; some reading I did since returning tells me that it has recently been added to the Anthonij Rupert Wines vineyard portfolio. It’s a grape that does well in warm sunny conditions, so it seems that they’re wanting to emulate Newton Johnson and Springfield, who have planted Albariño, and Jordan, where the first bottling of Assyrtiko was recently released. All of these are varietals that thrive in higher temperatures, and I find it encouraging that the powers that be in the Cape wine industry are alert to the implications of global warming and are taking appropriate action. We live in hope for future developments.

Till next time, santé.

Let’s deal with the bad news first. Way back when, not long after the vintage year of the wine in question, Bosman Family Vineyards used to hold an annual event which took the form of an al fresco lunch at their beautiful farm Lelienfontein, just outside Wellington. There would be tastings, cellar tours, live music, and food off numerous fires; all wonderful stuff, so we, being able to resist anything except temptation, would rally a battalion of our closest friends and head off to Wellington, there to enjoy a day of great food, wine, and geselligheid, invariably returning with bootfuls of what the good people at Bosman’s do best. And in one of those boots, on one of those expeditions, was the bottle that we are currently discussing - another friend had wisely purchased a case or two, which he had enjoyed over time, and then not long ago had stumbled across one solitary remaining bottle, which he had then given to me, saying something like, “This is probably way over the hill, Paddy, but I know you’re interested in this sort of thing.”

As you know by now, it was ambrosial, and not yet even at the top of the hill, but my frustration lay in the fact that whilst I could let the first friend have the how, where and when of my acquiring it, it was all something of a counsel of perfection; more recent vintages are available though scarce, but finding a bottle like that one will take extraordinary luck.

So what, you may wonder, is gratifying about any of the above? Well, the simple fact that a reader was interested in venturing down the rocky Riesling road filled me with instant elation; a keenness to explore what is probably the most misunderstood and underestimated wine varietal in South Africa is something rare and precious.

And it appears that this misconception is not confined to these shores.

It’s often said that Riesling’s lack of popularity in this country has its origins in the confusion surrounding its name: the grape that was named Riesling when first used to make wine at the Cape wasn’t Riesling at all, but an obscure cultivar named Crouchen Blanc, originating in the Pyrenees. It seems that the winemakers working with it honestly believed the vines were the genuine article and naturally applied techniques appropriate to Riesling; the results were less than encouraging, and when the error was discovered, the varietal was renamed Cape Riesling, which is still used in very limited quantities today but is not permitted to be exported. And yes, all this confusion did nothing to enhance Riesling’s reputation, but that was a local phenomenon, and for anyone interested in delving more deeply into the subject it’s very rewarding to read what highly respected wine writer Hugh Johnson has to say in his book Hugh Johnson on Wine. For a few reasons.

First, reading any of his many books is a sheer delight, but this one is particularly so; he has perfected the art of sharing his vast knowledge and experience in a consummately entertaining style. Fellow wine author Andrew Jefford puts it this way: “……no one writes tauter, tighter, springier and fresher sentences about wine than Johnson”

Secondly, he has an unrivalled perception of the deeper implications of terroir, which is a pivotal talent in this context, since in his view of this grape, “…make it happy in the vineyard, don’t fiddle with it too much in the winery, and it will sing of its origins in clear, pure tones.”

Finally, he is a dedicated Riesling enthusiast, describing it as the world’s greatest white wine grape, a view shared by his fellow luminary Jancis Robinson - “Dry Riesling,” she says,” is one of the wine world’s undervalued treasures.” And although I have no desire to set myself up as a Riesling evangelist, I have to cast my vote with these two - this is a varietal that in the right hands delivers two unique attributes: it has an especially wide spectrum of flavour nuances that surprise and delight in different ways at different ages; and it has unsurpassed food pairing capabilities, especially when faced with assertive Asian seasoning.

So where am I going with all of this?

Well, what has become apparent to me through wider reading is that far from being a localised curiosity, misgivings about the pleasures of Riesling (and its resultant absence from wine lists) are more of a global occurrence than I had imagined. Perhaps the clue is in these lines from Hugh Johnson’s book “Does the reason lie, perhaps, in the infinitely varied interpretations? `I thought it would be sweet’ is what I hear nine times out of ten when I trick a friend (yes, it’s that bad) into tasting one of my favourites.”

Or is Jancis Robinson right when she says, “Riesling just has too strong a personality to appeal to enough consumers to gain global traction.”?

Current state of play in South Africa

In July 2018 we were fortunate enough to find ourselves back at La Sibilla, our all-time favourite restaurant in Tivoli, the magical medieval hilltop town some 30km East of Rome. It’s an enchanting establishment that was built in 1720, and it offers a breathtaking view of the surrounding landscape that includes the ruin of a Roman temple just outside the window, plus a bird’s-eye vista of the garden of the Villa Grigoriana. It also boasts a magnificent Wisteria (legend has it that this was planted around 1770) that occupies centre stage on the terrazzo outside and that provides a canopy of flowers and foliage at the right times of the year.

The food is outstanding, and the wine list gets me hyperventilating, and on this particular lunchtime occasion, faced with a varied selection of food flavours, I was unable to resist a 2013 Riesling that I was confident would pair well with all the flavours heading towards it. I was not wrong; it turned out to be not just a complementary choice, but a thought-provoking one too.

There were a few interesting variables in the equation. There was no doubt in my mind that the bottle age could only be an asset; a well-made Riesling five years post-vintage is still a teenager, and this teenager proved to have a wonderful balance of exciting energy and impeccable manners.

What was less expected was the story surrounding the wine’s origin - it was quite obvious from the labelling that it was from Italy, probably (so I thought) from somewhere close to the Alps, and that was fine with me, as I had already had ample evidence of the recent steep rise in quality of wines from the North of the country. Then, my assumption seemed to be confirmed when we tasted it; this finesse and purity, I thought, can only come from the precipitous part of Italy I had suspected from the start. Boy, was I wrong! This Mezzo Braccio was from Marchesi Antinori’s Tenuta Monteloro property close to Firenze, and it was that discovery that started the cogs turning in my head - if, I thought, the Tuscan winemakers can deliver a Riesling of this quality in the climate of these latitudes, why are we so frequently underwhelmed by many of the offerings back home at the Cape?

But that was a touch more than six years ago, and given the fact that this is a cultivar that amply rewards the patience required to lay it down for a while, not only are current fruits of vigneron labour superior to what they were then, but the rise in quality that must already have begun at that time is now shining in the glow of a bit of bottle age.

So there has never been a better time to embark on a Riesling journey, and there are various routes open to you. Great local South African expressions are no longer hard to find; watch out for Blank Bottle, Bosman Family Vineyards, Catherine Marshall, Delheim and Hammel, Groote Post, Illimis, Jordan, Klein Constantia, Oak Valley, Paul Cluver, Sauerwein, and Spioenkop, And if you want to expand your horizons there’s no shortage of examples from both Rhine and Mosel regions in Germany and from the legendary shippers of Alsace with their delectable dry style - South Africans can browse through selections of these at Caroline’s Fine Wines or at Wine Cellar, both in Cape Town, or at Great Domaines or Reciprocal Wine Company in Johannesburg. All have abundant expertise to steer you in the right direction.

And remember:

“…. no other white grape responds so eloquently to maturing in bottle.” Hugh Johnson

Until next time,

Age is currently a very hot topic in the global wine theatre, especially with reference to age of vines and vineyards. South Africa’s Rosa Kruger, viticulturist extraordinaire, began way back in 2002 to explore the the possibilities inherent in the (mostly small, remote and obscure) pockets of ancient vineyards dotted all over the landscape in the Western Cape, and in 2016, ably assisted by project manager André Morgenthal and with the backing of the Rupert Foundation, she formalized the Old Vine Project, which has gone from strength to strength.

So what started here in South Africa has grown into a global groundswell of interest, with renowned British wine writer Jancis Robinson championing the cause. In her words:

“The aim is to achieve selling prices that will allow grape prices to rise and become sufficiently attractive to farmers that they will not be tempted to pull out the older, less productive vines that may well make some of the finest wine.”

Obviously there are very old vineyards in various corners of the wine world - Europe, Australia, and the Americas all have vineyards greater than 100 years old, and South Africa has 10 in that category. What is unique about SA, however, is that it is the first, and at this stage still the only country to have a legal entity that promotes and protects its old vineyards - via the Old Vine Project, wineries may now, if a wine contains a minimum proportion of 85% from vineyards aged 35 years and more, attach a Certified Heritage Vineyard sticker to the bottle, which clearly adds significant value and helps to compensate the producer for the fact that old vines are inherently shy bearers. In other words, while wine quality climbs, yield is reduced, and along with it, revenue per hectare, so higher selling prices are needed to offset the leaner pickings.

But it’s not been an easy task. I had the privilege, a few weeks back, of attending a tasting conducted by André Morgenthal, held at Caroline’s Fine Wines in Tokai. We tasted some stunning examples of old-vineyard wines, but just as interesting was to listen to André tell of the early days of the Old Vine Project and the resistance that was encountered from farmers who were hell-bent on ripping out parcels of quality old vines in order to plant higher-yielding new ones.

At this stage, and with growing momentum, old-vine awareness is spreading like ripples from a pebble thrown into a pond. We now have The Old Vine Registry, based in London ; we have regular events, globally, under the banner of The Old Vine Conference. And through all of this, it’s encouraging to note that the fountainhead of this awareness has been acknowledged: in 2022, Rosa Kruger was the recipient of Decanter magazine’s Hall of Fame Award; the first viticulturist and the first South African ever to have this honour bestowed on her.

Quite serendipitously, but as if to underscore our current theme, the May 2024 edition of Decanter magazine reached my desk recently. Included with it as a separate supplement is the Rioja guide 2024, which contains an article by Sarah Jane Evans MW entitled In Praise of Old Vines. In it, the writer focuses on old-vine developments in the Rioja region of Northeastern Spain, and quotes winemaker Manu Michelini of Michelini i Mufatto, who says “Old vines have always been there, but it seems that nobody cared for a long time.” Ditto most of the winemaking world!

Appropriately, Ms Evans goes on to acknowledge Rosa Kruger’s pioneering and pivotal role in old-vine recognition and conservation and adds the following “One of its initiatives that adds real value is the Certified Heritage Vineyard seal, and the old-vine wines sold under this label command a premium price”.

And yes, this is a new and exciting trend, which made stumbling across the following observation in the course of my reading even more interesting: Robert Louis Stevenson, a very dedicated wine-lover and shrewd observer who died in 1894, noted that “Just as the best wines are made from the oldest vines, the best lessons are learned from old friends.”

Age from a different angle - the overlooked promise of white wines

All of us who are interested in wine have in our mind’s eye a few images of revered bottles of red wine: in magazines and online they appear in moody photos, their sleek forms receiving just enough light to let them stand out from the gloom and the dust that, along with a trace of spiderweb here and there, proclaim their august age. The message, widely accepted, is that good red wine deserves ageing.

What is less widely considered is that whilst many white wines (and some reds too) are best drunk within a year or two of bottling, others will richly reward the patience needed to keep them for longer - a well-made white will often improve with laying down for five years and beyond, and it’s my personal observation that too many of our quality whites are squandered by being opened prematurely.

Of course, a bald statement like that begs a few questions:

Q: Will all white wines reward keeping?

A: Many lighter-bodied white wines are best enjoyed in the freshness of their youth; it takes a more serious wine to stay the course. So what do you need to look for? There are no guarantees, but a fine balance of acidity and concentration will go a long way to enhancing your chances of future reward. So will judicious oaking - quality factors being equal, a wooded Chardonnay will improve further into the future than its unwooded cousin. Sugar content is also a factor - noble late harvest wines, ice wines, and straw wines can have remarkable longevity, especially if there’s a lively spark of acidity present.

Jordan Lynn Taylor, a chef, sommelier and wine consultant, sums it up nicely: “A combination of sugar and acid, or acid and complexity in flavors, gives you the blueprint for an age-worthy white wine.”

Q: And what about cultivar?

A: Well there’s no shortage of candidates, so I will cover only a few that are locally prominent: Chardonnay, especially if nurtured, Burgundy-style, in oak, is one of the great long-term whites of the world; Chenin blanc, both oaked and unoaked, can be very rewarding to keep ; Sauvignon blanc with good acidity and texture will comfortably reach 5 years and beyond ; although largely overlooked and underrated here in South Africa, Riesling (by which I mean Weisser or Rhine Riesling, and not Cape Riesling, which was a misnomer in the first place) has great potential for ageing, as you will see below; and finally, a varietal which is currently gaining popularity here at the Cape and which has astonishing ageing potential - Semillon. Some local wineries are producing great examples, but it’s a deceptive grape, known often to be underwhelming in its youth but then to reveal its charms much later. Etched indelibly into my memory is a vivid recollection of a bottle, opened some years back, of a 21 year-old Hunter Valley Semillon that grabbed the attention of everyone who tasted it and knew its age; not crystal clear, it was rich gold in colour, but the quality that had everyone around the table gently shaking their heads was its youthful vitality that lingered on and on. Need I say more?

Q: Do they need to be kept in a certain way?

A: The longer a wine needs to stay in bottle, the more critical the storage conditions become. Mostly it’s less about what has to be done than about what needs to be avoided:

• First, storage temperature needs to be moderate and constant - ideally it should remain steady at 15 to18°C (59 to 64°F). Temperatures over 24°C (75.2°F) will definitely cause damage, and remember that fluctuating temperatures can cause the air in the bottle to expand and contract, creating a harmful “pumping” effect.

• Position of bottle is also important - best is horizontal or at a slant with the cork at the lower end so that it doesn’t dry out and loosen the seal. This effect can also occur if the storage area is excessively dry, so reasonable ambient humidity is important. If we are dealing with screwcap closures, these two considerations fall away.

• Your bottles are best stored in a dark or at least low-light area - UV light can cause unpleasant changes (mainly associated with sulphur chemistry) in their precious contents. LED lighting is generally considered to be harmless in this regard.

• Finally, ongoing vibration in the storage area can cause harm.

Q: In what way do the wines change with keeping?

A: One could wax quite lyrical in response to this question, and as with so many other aspects of wine enjoyment, it’s all very subjective. So my simple answer is that the wines become more mellow and complex, with more texture and more layers of flavour.

And now I owe it to you to furnish some evidence that this isn’t all just waffle, and that I do actually practise what I preach. What follows is a sample of some of the standout older white wines that have given unique pleasure in recent times. They are listed in no particular order:

• Flagstone Free Run Sauvignon blanc 2019.

• Flagstone Word of Mouth Viognier 2017

• Arendsig Inspirational Batch 3 Chenin blanc 2019

• Catherine Marshall Riesling 2017

• Shannon Vineyards Semillon 2015

• Bosman Family Vineyards Weisser Riesling 2015

All of these wines were still beautifully balanced, with fine varietal character and lingering, gently acidic finish. Winemaker Corlea Fourie’s BFV Riesling was truly exceptional, with a complexity and a lingering intensity that one generally only dreams of. After 9 years in bottle, very possibly the most beguiling Riesling I have tasted, including some from Europe.

In conclusion, Kathleen Willcox, writing in Wine Enthusiast, has the following comment on the subject:

‘Demanding the “freshest wine you’ve got. This year! No more of this old stuff,” (quote from the movie The Jerk) once you’ve seen how age can benefit a white wine. It can tease out new textures, complexities, a focused concentration, a superb richness that makes a white wine as worthy of the cellar as any of its ruby-hued counterparts.’

Until next time,

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