Family’s Finest Pinot Noir from Newton Johnson

It was a dark and stormy night, and I was at a gaudy Polish wedding as the skies broke, unleashing havoc. The date, to be exact, was 4 March 2023. And while the Poles downed frozen vodka shots, boding the groom and bride well with guttural cries of well-wishes in their abrasive native lingo, I was worrying about the rain and vineyards. Reason being, the wedding in question was at Newton Johnson Vineyards in the Upper Hemel-en-Aarde Valley, and pelting, relentless rain of that nature could, surely, not be good for the Pinot Noir, Chardonnay and other grapes hanging on the vines, days before harvest.

The signs of a potential vinous disaster were there for all to see, even if you were Polish and had just taken your 11th shot of bison grass vodka.

Reflecting on vintage 2023 in the three Hemel-en-Aarde wards, it was a sodden affair. About 300mm of rain fell in the last week of February and first week of March alone, bursting ripe fruit, diluting berries and making the harvesting process a mud-bath. But, being wine women and men of the Cape, trials and tribulations and challenges are there to be met and to be endured. To be engaged with, and to be managed. For the spirit is immortal, physical affronts being but passing.

So, harvesting schedules were re-assessed, and plans made. In the vintage of 2023, human thought and guile; imagination and ambition were for winemakers just as important as the wonts of nature that had led to those damply ripened grapes. Mud on the tracks, concern in the heart.

As fortune would have it, the rain-gods were sending down lashings of assertive precipitation during a recent visit to Newton Johnson Vineyards, although the Polish crowd were no longer there and this glorious piece of Upper Hemel-en-Aarde real estate had returned to its picturesque, pastoral tranquility. The rain was accompanied by an icy wind from the north-west, sending the thin, sombre grey clouds cantering down the valley and making the raw morning an ideal condition for drinking Pinot Noir, of which Newton Johnson is of this region’s finest producers.

Gordon and Bevan Newton Johnson.

Although there are a few wines to choose from in the winery’s Pinot Noir range, my go to is the Family Vineyards, the current offering of which is from the aforementioned stormy, daunting vintage 2023.

Newton Johnson Pinot Noir has a very characteristic profile in its deft balance between the delicate and the commanding. The address is a major factor, obviously. Granite soils and vines set from 200m above sea-level on north-east and south-east facing slopes, combined with the overriding cool climate one finds between four and eight kilometres from the sea, create intriguing multi-faceted geography where the vineyards are set.

Air-flows from the ocean in spring are off-set by still, days in summer which see the ripening grapes capture the sun’s heart, giving the ripe fruit a glow. The vines slope, too, between 12% and 16%, allowing for an interplay of sunlight radiation, resulting in a diverse palette of structures and personalities in the ripened grapes.

The earthly matter in which the Pinot Noir is grown here is complemented by the fact that the variety is a part of the human terroir, that other vital aspect of all great wineries. Pater familia and founder Dave Newton Johnson entered the wine-life largely due to his fascination with Pinot Noir, and the fixation lives on through his sons Gordon, winemaker, and Bevan, CEO and the brand’s voice in the market.

With the necessary boxes of agreed Cape Pinot Noir royalty ticked, it is thus no surprise finding the Newton Johnson Family Vineyards Pinot Noir from the disruptive 2023 vintage to be a superlative wine bearing the pedigreed typicity this winery has become renowned for.

On the nose there is a text-book ruffled, exotic waft of spice emanating from a secure line of late pink fruit blossoms, orchard like and life-affirming. The aroma, intoxicating, sets the scene in reminding one why there are, truly, only three types of wine: red, white and Pinot Noir. (Disclosure: the quote belongs to the great Danie de Wet.)

On the palate, concentration of fruit taste is palpable, yet the broad density of flavour is supported by tannin instead of being dominated by it – even in this wine’s relative youth. This feature says a lot about the raw material, as the stuff spends quite some time on the skins during maceration and spontaneous fermentation, some 25 days to be precise. Yet, the skins and pips are apparently of such a fragile, coy nature they gently sing tannin into the wine, instead of shouting it, allowing the verve and charm of pure, vivacious Pinot Noir fruit to come to the fore.

This makes the palate awash with warm, overripe strawberry offset by a slight pungent wad of damson. Cherry is there, too, but not the gob-puckering sour kind, just a hint of crispness and crunch among the expressive fruit character. It is awash in brilliant flavour and succulence, but what I always find in Newton Johnson Pinot Noir is a slight finely powdered dryness, just a tuft of withered fynbos to give the fruit an edge and to leave a pondering thought on the mind, and a wonder in the soul.

Things that, after all, Pinot Noir was made for, setting it poles apart from other wines.

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Tokara by the Barrel

The late Graham Beck, the larger than life, gruff and assertive founder of his eponymous Robertson winery, had a simple take on Chardonnay: “No wood, no good.” I’d disagree on this in terms of the Great Burgundian white grape, but when it comes to my favourite red grape variety – Cabernet Sauvignon – wood is all good. Especially new, unblemished barriques of French oak, spanking and virginal, their pale-straw coloured raw staves waiting to impart character, structure and taste on fine, just fermented Cabernet Sauvignon.

New wood has fallen out of favour in some wine circles. Wine critics began to diss it when they ran out of topics, insight and inspiration. Some winemakers, too, dismiss the use of new wood, implying that it “suppresses the true nuance of terroir”, and such bull-shit. Usually, these words come from winemakers who can’t afford new barrels, or whose newly fermented wine does not have enough going for it to stand-up to the beguiling, ethereal effects of virginal oak.

Everything I like about new wood is to be found in a majestic Cabernet Sauvignon from Tokara, namely the Simonsberg Cabernet Sauvignon 2021, a loftily priced wine found in this great Stellenbosch winery’s “gift” range. And gifted I was, this bottle being handed out last year at a lunch given by Tokara CEO Karl Lambour to celebrate the estate’s 20th vintage.

The Simonsberg is – along with Helderberg – known as Stellenbosch’s great Cabernet Sauvignon region, its decomposed granite slopes dotted with the kind of superstar cellars to warrant this status. Tokara is definitely one of the finest here, Cabernet Sauvignon dominating its red offering with a number of really gorgeous wines, culminating in its big-hitting Telos that sells for five grand and some.

Tokara Simonsberg Cabernet Sauvignon 2021 is, price-wise, well under the Telos at R1 850, but is also a true monument to the Tokara ethos of excellence, the farm’s top-of-the-Banghoek geography and the greatness of the Cabernet Sauvignon grape grown in Stellenbosch and, in the same breath, South Africa.

Sure, up there on the Simonsberg terroir is excellent and the viticulture characteristically detailed, but the wine’s greatness is also evident of winemaker Stuart Botha’s masterly knack with Cabernet Sauvignon. The wine’s distinctive fingerprint that is left on memory and in the soul is as much Botha’s as the site that is Tokara.

Grapes are given five days’ maceration after de-stemming and crushing, after which spontaneous fermentation takes hold of the juice and the flesh and the skins, and the Odyssey to greatness begins. This in stainless steel and foudre. The cap was punched-down through the fermenting juice, which also wetted the raft of grape-skins during pump-overs.

Stuart Botha

Post-fermentation, another period of maceration followed, allowing the wine a final hug of the grape-skins before they would be separated, the wine flowing into brand-new French barrels. Here, it would lie for 22 months in the pure offering of the Gallic oak forests, they deserving the wine as much as the wine warrants the pristine wood.

So, to the nose, and from the outset Tokara Simonsberg Cabernet Sauvignon hollers “Simonsberg”, being more maritime, rockier in its aromatic offering than the rich fruitier breaths whispered by Cabernets originating from Helderberg’s warmer, firmer-ripening slopes. It is dry grape-skins and fennel, with a turn of wet clay, the scents of purity and life uncluttered by all that new wood, this on account of the wine’s ability to embrace the oak instead of being overpowered by it.

It is truly beautiful on the palate, the wine’s initial austerity and frigid calm reminding one of a great Saint-Estèphe made in a golden warm year during which the morning Gironde spring mists sat on the vines, cool and true. Presence is all-encompassing and like a trumpet-solo by Chet Baker, the wine makes itself known in a proud, gaudy way which, like the call of the mythological sirens, is seductive in its alluring beauty.

Flavour begins to emerge, coyly. Fig-paste scattered next to a mirage of cool water and palm-trees. Mulberries struck to the ground by a hail-storm and eaten from the ice. Brambleberry juice, licked from a forefinger from which the prick of bramble thorn had drawn blood. And then, a line of salinity, arousing the fruit, complementing it and creating a sense of enticement precluding true deliciousness.

And in all this, tannins run long and fine and taut, marks of an honest, truthful wine that brings promise of future things, things that must truly be wonderful as right now they appear perfectly, impeccably, absolutely astounding.

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How to Rescue a Sad Wine or Two

by Earl Dexter

Either I am just super trendy or mighty ignorant, but this mode of adding slivers and nobs of flavoursome titbits to wine don’t phase me one bit. My uber wine-loving friend Lafras Huguenet developed – according to his wife – a disturbing heart palpitation coupled with involuntary anal leakage upon hearing that his grand-daughter was adding sliced jalapeno peppers to her glasses of Provençal rosé.

This pepper popping into rosé and Sauvignon Blanc is, by-the-by, currently a trend among the younger generation of wine drinkers. Not only does it apparently add flavour and zest to the contents of the glass, but also makes wine drinking look busy in a cool, intrusive sort of way. Fashionable, something the category needs.

Jalapeno in pink wine, anyone?

Adding extra flavour to wine is, of course, nothing new, so I keep wondering why it is sniffed at by the likes of Lafras and his fellow snobbish vinous old farts. I remember encountering a modestly sized and fully ripe summer English strawberry floating in the glass of Lanson Champagne poured to me at Wimbledon a few years back.

In certain high-brow European restaurants, a single skinned grape is often added to a glass of acidic Sauvignon Blanc or Riesling in making a white wine cocktail. And while aggressively higher up on the scale of flavour immersion, Coca Cola blended with dry red wine makes a popular drink in many warm Portuguese-speaking parts of the world, such as Angola, Brazil and Mozambique.

Despite having no qualms about such supplementary wine practices, I do not indulge in these myself. Yet now and again I am compelled to deploy remedies to rescue dull and tasteless wines with the slight addition of external flavour. You can’t mend a broken heart, but a poor wine can be rescued.

Take Ruby Cabernet, for example, a red grape still popularly cultivated in South Africa and which is famous for making the kakkest wine to the greatest level of mediocre consistency. It tastes of mouldy rhubarb, liver extract and vinegared raspberry juice, yet some folk do like it, such as Mot and Dappies who often visit me during week-end trips to Cape Town.

These two lovingly delinquent mates always haul a bottle or two of Ruby Cabernet along, expecting me to open a bottle in their presence. A charming host, I do this but having poured my glass I excuse myself to visit the kitchen. Here, two to three drops of Angostura bitters are added to my glass of Ruby Cabernet, the firm, herbaceous notes of the bitters turning the wine from a cloying, bloody and mousy red liquid into something actually drinkable.

Sad Chardonnays, I’ve had few but not too few to mention, need external perking-up. One of these is the strangely popular Fat Bastard Chardonnay which is forever finding its way into my fridge, courtesy of the neighbour’s wife and her tartish friends who insist on leaving me a gift after I’ve sanded their carpets.

I don’t like pouring any wine down the drain, but to make an offensively over-oaked and under-finessed Chardonnay such as Fat Bastard palatable, half a teaspoon of fresh lemon-juice does the trick, wonderfully. The acid of the lemon cuts the woody clogged arteries and breaks down the dense sweetness leading the wine’s character. Actually, makes it taste quite all-right, a lesser Fat Bastard and more of the sane, finer wine it could have been from the start.

But be not ashamed, everyone needs a bit of help, now and again.

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EU’s Millions for South African Wine: Make Marketing a Priority

Better late than never, as is the case of the €15m (R310m, roughly) heading the way of the South African wine industry from the European Union (EU). And about 20 years late, to be roughly precise, as the moela was supposed to have been paid after the formalisation of the wine and spirits agreement between the EU and South Africa way back in 2002. This was the agreement giving Cape’s producers tariff-free access to EU markets, as well as ensuring that South Africa stopped using geographically protected wine styles such as Port and Sherry.

The all-clear for the windfall has, however, now been given and as announced last week, the largesse is heading down south from the EU. Here, the funds “aim to unlock new business opportunities and support the development of black-owned brands, farms, education, and enterprises across the wine and spirits value chain”, as per a media release.

The allocation and use of these funds will no doubt be scrutinised by Cape wine producers and others with a stake in the business, as it is no guarded secret that within the confounds of the wine industry official organisational bodies, capital is on the scarce side.

Wines of South Africa (Wosa) – the industry arm responsible for promoting the country’s wine industry internationally – has, for example, found itself unable to pay the travel costs of key delegates to the Cape Wine showcase to be held later this year. This led to producers themselves being asked – on top of their statutory export levies paid to Wosa – to foot the bill so as to ensure a meaningful contingent of overseas guests can be jetted into South Africa to attend the event in September.

Budget cuts throughout the hallowed halls of industry bodies have been hamstringing the work of, among others, various training and education bodies. Together with the perennial news that only some 10% of the country’s wine producers are profitable, with over 35% running at a loss, any capital injection into the situation of Wine Brand South Africa is as welcome as a three-hour long spell of thunderous rain on a grazing pasture in the Kalahari.

Allocating and managing the R310m into the waiting arms of South African wine will be handled by the Department of Agriculture, Land Reform and Rural Development (DALRRD), working in partnership with the Land Bank – which will receive €10 million of the total amount – and the National Agricultural Marketing Council (NAMC).

Although the objectives of the EU funding predictably focusses on Black Economic Empowerment and creating opportunities for previously disadvantaged people, it must be realised that one thing the South African industry does not need are more wine brands – black owned or otherwise. Some 40 new brands are created in South Africa each year, and despite this proliferation of labels, the industry itself is stagnating as far as local and international wine sales are concerned. New brands are predominantly started by wealthy individuals seeking the lifestyle and ego rewards that the wine world offers, or they are founded as black-owned brands artificially sustained by hand-outs courtesy of the government and South Africa’s wine industry bodies. Neither of the two are known for showing commercial success.

To be handed the opportunity of creating and managing a new wine brand in the current environment of South African wine, thus, is a somewhat poisoned chalice. And if the forthcoming EU money is going to be used to allow starry-eyed wannabe wine entrepreneurs to do so hand-over-fist, it will be akin to pouring an oxidised tank of dry white down the drain.

The majority share of any economic windfall becoming the wine industry should be used to market and promote Cape wine and the image of the industry to broaden the consumer base. This is now the only box left unticked in the list of necessities for reaching greater commercial success. South Africa’s wine excellence with an array of desired international varieties is non-debatable. As far as sustainability and responsible production methods go, the country is among the world’s leaders. As it is in wine tourism.

But the industry has failed in strategising and implementing relevant and successful marketing actions, both internationally and locally. Those in the know – trade buyers, journalists, international judges and the rest of the vinous in-crowd – are aware of the status that Cape wine should command throughout the world. But the most important cog in that wheel, namely the potential consumer, remains either undecided or ignorant of what South African wine has to offer. This includes the global markets, as well as swathes of untapped potential local consumers.

Empowerment can only occur through economic sustainability. Concerted efforts and meaningful actions to truly unlock the potential of the South African wine industry through inspired, imaginative and dynamic marketing and promotion activities are to be ignored at the peril of all those whose futures rely on it.

Yet, the question must be asked: why has this crucial aspect still not received the attention it deserves?

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Avontuur Estate: A Helderberg Adventure

As the sun sets to the west of Stellenbosch, the soft beams hit the mountain running south, lighting the granite rock faces to an iridescent luminosity. The early Dutch colonists saw this, and subsequently named it the Helder (bright) Berg (mountain). Today the mountain remains true and bright, a major natural landmark and home to one of South Africa’s most distinctive regions where truly great wines are made,

The Helderberg is, however, not a recognised official ward. For there are squabbles among its wine people as to where the appellation’s boundaries should be, debates and squabbles among folk whose availability to time for embarking on pettiness exceeds their commitment to wine and vines.

There are many great wineries on the Helderberg. I have a particular fondness for Uva Mira, Taaibosch, Ernie Els, Rust en Vrede and Alto, and used to like Waterford Estate as well, until learning that farm is more about ego than about wine. A winery that always gives good view on the Helderberg is Avontuur, which was owned by a race-horse breeder whose steeds still wonder the farm’s verdant slopes. I like looking at horses, their necks sloping towards the thick green grass, and the Helderberg Mountains rising behind them.

Avontuur is now seeing true wine activity, this elevated from the low-key vinous offering that formerly trotted meekly behind the horses. The Estate has been revived wine-wise thanks to a partnership between the Taberer family of Avontuur and local drinks corporate DGB, a large and diverse liquor company whose commitment to wine stands firm and true. And is growing.

Although wine has been made on this Helderberg farm for nearly two centuries, the first bottled Avontuur wines were introduced in 1989 by businessman and aforementioned racehorse dynamo Tony Taberer, who acquired the property in 1984. Today, Tony’s sons Philip and Michael are running the show, and it is under these young men’s auspices that the Avontuur wines are being made in tandem with the expert involvement of DGB.

Like all operations on the Helderberg, the distinction of Avontuur’s wines lie in the geography. The vines are set in ancient soils of decomposed granite and sandstone on north-west facing slopes some 25km from the cool maritime air drifting in from the Atlantic Ocean at False Bay, the plants exposed to the glowing warmth of the afternoon sun as it makes its way to set out west. I recently partook of the new-generation wines in the Avontuur Collection wine range, one segment of the estate’s extensive offering. In this range I was presented with three grape cultivars for which Stellenbosch’s Helderberg region is especially famous, namely Chardonnay – the prince of white wine grapes – as well as the red varieties Cabernet Sauvignon and Shiraz, cultivars for which this appellation has garnered world-wide acclaim over the past four decades. Think Rust en Vrede, Alto Estate, Ernie Els and Uva Mira.

The Disa Gorge Chardonnay 2024, found in The Avontuur Collection, underscores my belief that Helderberg Chardonnay is one of the great wine categories found in the Cape. The wine exudes the alluring combination of bright minerality and commanding, assured presence on the palate, whilst at the same time offering vast levels of deliciousness. Lemon meringue, sun-baked hay, lime-zest and grilled nuts abound, flavours shimmering in a cool fresh mist of salinity.

To make this wine, grapes are whole-bunch pressed and fermented in French oak barrels, whereafter the wine ages for another 11 months in barrel – 40% new and the balance 2nd and 3rd fill.

Classic red grape varieties established the Helderberg’s reputation as a renowned wine region in the 1920s, with Shiraz and Cabernet Sauvignon being the area’s best-known red cultivars.

In its Stone Field Syrah 2023, Avontuur showcases the wonderous merits of cool-climate Syrah with a perfumed, elegant red wine that is set to become a leading example of Stellenbosch’s wine offering from this grape variety. During the fermentation regime, the grapes and juice are pumped-over every eight hours to allow the juice to draw colour, tannins and flavour from the ink-black skins.

To maintain maximum fruit-purity and linearity in structure, the fermented wine is placed in large 5000l foudré vessels for 14 months, with the lees being regularly stirred to impart body and added flavour. It all leads to the Avontuur Stone Field Syrah 2023, a wine vividly displaying a range of delectable red wine flavours including that of dark berries, plums and olive, with that umami-savouriness on the finish.

Stellenbosch is known as South Africa’s kingdom of Cabernet Sauvignon, arguably the world’s most renowned red grape variety, with the Helderberg being especially famous for the noble features found in its wines made from this cultivar.

In Avontuur’s The West Peak Cabernet Sauvignon 2021, one of the ward’s finest Cabernet Sauvignon renditions is found, a wine of both commanding power and multi-layered refinement.

After fermentation, this Cabernet Sauvignon was aged in French oak barrels for between 16 to 18 months before the components were blended for the making of the final wine.

The result is a majestic Cabernet Sauvignon harnessing dark-fruit and fynbos flavours with a sleek, muscular structure. Notes of prune, graphite and pine-needle are cloaked in a veil of elegance, the greatness of The West Peak Cabernet Sauvignon 2021 amplified by the fact that this year saw one of the best red wine vintages in recent memory – making the drinking of this wine not only an experience, but a true adventure that does justice to its place of origin. Which is, clearly, a special one.

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Trophy Wine Talk from the Heart

With the first winter rains barely settling over the Boland and the vineyards’ autumn leaves drifting gently to the ground, the Cape wine industry has – as it does each year – entered a new season: that of wine competitions and shows.

From now until October, the calendar is crowded with events where row upon row of Cape wines, spanning all cultivars and styles, are scrutinised by panels of seasoned judges. After days of deliberation and reflection, the results are typically announced at glamorous ceremonies, with gleaming trophies and gold medals awarded to those winemakers whose labours are deemed superior to those of their peers.

On the whole, the benefits of these competitions outweigh the drawbacks. This remains true even though the sheer number of events has, arguably, dulled the shine of the accolades handed out. Still, excellent winemakers and their products deserve recognition. For the consumer, the results provide at least a general indication of which wines a group of experts have judged to be of exceptional quality – guidance that may well influence their purchasing decisions when it comes to investing in a bottle.

Of course, sceptics raise valid concerns about the credibility of these competitions. “A handful of judges’ opinions shouldn’t define a wine’s success,” they argue, or: “How can a wine’s subtle complexities truly be appreciated when it’s assessed alongside 30 or 40 others in such a short time?”

These are fair questions, and the answers largely depend on the calibre of the judges and the standards of the competition in question. Most importantly, they hinge on the credibility of the event itself – on whether it presents as a professional, well-run entity dedicated to the serious task of identifying and celebrating outstanding wines, and of serving as a yardstick for communicating the quality proposition of South African wine.

In this regard, Michael Fridjhon’s Investec Trophy Wine Show stands head and shoulders above the rest. Its rigorous judging criteria and the broader insights it offers into the current state of South African wine make it the industry benchmark.

Each year, the Trophy Wine Show holds a feedback session several weeks before the awards ceremony, during which the judges offer an overview of their impressions and findings – without naming producers or disclosing results, which remain unknown to them until the official announcement. These sessions, open to the media and interested parties, provide a rare window into the judging process and opinions gleaned.

Particularly valuable is the inclusion of international judges, whose outsider perspectives often bring refreshing clarity to a somewhat inward-looking South African wine industry. This year, British wine writer and critic Tamlyn Currin and Australian winemaker and judge Tom Carson provided compelling commentary.

Michael Fridjhon speaks, while Australian judge Tom Carson looks on.

Currin, speaking about Chenin Blanc, called it the jewel in South Africa’s wine crown. “It was an honour to judge your Chenin Blancs,” she said. “What struck me was how the various styles—from light and fresh to fuller, oak-aged expressions—overlap in their delivery of true top-quality wines. South African winemakers are demonstrating masterful craftsmanship with Chenin Blanc. You have the right soils, the right climate, and, in my opinion, Chenin Blanc is at the heart of what defines South African wine.”

On Sauvignon Blanc, Currin was equally enthusiastic, suggesting that Cape expressions surpass those of New Zealand, often seen as the global benchmark. “Your Sauvignon Blancs are more layered and complex. New Zealand’s offerings seem monotonous by comparison,” she said.

Just as this praise began to stir a sense of national pride, Tom Carson offered a more sobering perspective – this time on Chardonnay, often considered one of South Africa’s strongest suits.

“Chardonnay is a crucial varietal in Australia, and we dedicate a great deal of attention to it,” Carson said. “There were certainly some good wines this year, but overall, I see room for significant improvement in this category.”

He noted a tendency toward richer, riper styles. “There’s a place for those, but I’d like to see more complexity and layered minerality. Many producers seem to play it safe. There’s an opportunity here to be more daring – to craft wines that are intriguing and adventurous. It feels as though too many Chardonnays are made merely to appease consumer expectations, sticking to one predictable style. The grape quality is there, but a bolder, more experimental approach in the cellar – through the use of oak, wild fermentations, and so on – could really elevate the category.”

Tamlyn Currin

That said, Carson did single out Shiraz as a standout success—a grape variety Australians know well.

“This is the third time I’ve judged at the Trophy Wine Show, and I’ve never seen the Shiraz category this strong,” he remarked. “The wines are vibrant, fruit-forward, and varietally expressive. Not one was over-oaked. It’s clear that producers are handling Shiraz with skill, and the cooler vineyard sites contribute freshness and elegance. I was thoroughly impressed, and I’ll be letting my colleagues in Australia know that South Africa is right on our heels.”

His praise was less generous when it came to Cabernet Sauvignon, another of South Africa’s flagship varietals. “Overripe, heavy-handed, with some wines appearing almost brown in the glass,” he said. “Worse still, many lacked clear varietal character – a cardinal sin for Cabernet. A wine must express its cultivar.”

It’s important to note that while the Trophy Wine Show attracted 650 entries this year, that still represents a limited cross-section of the country’s full wine offering. Nonetheless, with only 40 wines receiving gold medals (95 points or higher), the bar is high, and the show draws entries from South Africa’s top-tier producers. The rigorous judging standards and incisive feedback lend weight to both the awards and the criticisms.

Ultimately, it’s this feedback, reflection, and ongoing dialogue that elevates a wine competition beyond the simple awarding of medals. By encouraging scrutiny, insight, and debate, competitions like the Trophy Wine Show play a vital role in the long-term advancement of a country’s wine industry – far more so than simply singing the same praises year after year.

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Looking on the Tripe-side of Life

Now that winter has finally decided to grace Cape Town with its moody presence, I am reminded of one of the great dividing lines of humanity: those who eat offal, and those who gag at the mere mention of it. There’s no middle ground here. For some of us – moi, for instance – tucking into slow-cooked sheep or cow guts, brain and stomach-lining is a deeply emotional, nostalgic, downright glorious experience.

The offal-phobes? They avert their eyes in horror, wondering how supposedly civilised people can bring themselves to eat animal parts that, unlike chops and steak, look and smell so disconcertingly close to death.

But in Afrikaans, “afval” isn’t just any old offal. We’re talking about a very specific beastly blessing: sheep tripe, trotters, and heads. Hours of slow simmering in their own juices and fats, the house filled with an earthy, feral aroma. For me, this smells like home and like the heart: like the farm, the family, the forefathers. Yet we respect the sensitive types so affronted by the scent and thought of offal, clutching their pearls (and their smelling salts), flinging open windows and doors, and playing aloud Buddhist monk chants in an effort to lower their blood pressure.

Boere-afval. That’s the real offal deal. Pale and visually insipid, but with the glistening  organ fat giving the tongue, feet, and tripe a sexy bright sheen. Or offal curried into a vividly turmeric-yellow feast fit for an exotic banquet – the delicate sheep brain is particularly divine in this context.

Boere-afval. It is one of South Africa’s most distinctive, uniquely fragrant, proudly rustic dishes. And if there are any offal-loving Afrikaners among the recent batch who’ve bolted for the USA courtesy of Don T, this is one of the first things they’re going to miss. Trust me – I know.

Back when my parents were living in England decades ago, their cravings got so out of hand that I was conscripted to smuggle an entire frozen sheep offal through Heathrow. Their need for boere-afval, you see, had reached psychologically concerning levels.

Enter Tannie Annatjie Melck – a true Karoo grande dame and head of Stellenbosch’s offal aristocracy. She handed me a pristine, frozen Karoo set: full head, sheep feet, and a few extra tongues tossed in for good measure. The whole unholy bundle of organs and trotters and skull went into a plastic bag, deep frozen, and then into my backpack for the flight to London.

Of course, it had to happen. The next morning at Heathrow, a very polite customs officer asks me to please step aside and open my bag.

He rummages around, then pauses. With both hands, he lifts the frozen lump out and lays it gently on the metal inspection table. The sheep’s head stares back at him with a wide Karoo grin – all teeth. Its trotters poke out past its pale, iced belly.

The officer looks at me. Calm, but clearly unsettled.

“What is this, sir?”

I look down at the offal, trying to figure out how to explain this to a British civil servant. He was peering at the sheep-head, trying to identify the frozen stumps of sheep’s feet.

“Sir,” I say, “I really don’t think you want to know what this is.”

He gives the frozen contraband one last look. Then shakes his head.
“No,” he says. “I don’t think I do.”

Back in the bag the offal-package went, and he waved me through the gate to the arrivals hall, and onto the Tube I went, down to Kensington and my family. It was a good homecoming.

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Le Chant: Making the Red Cock Rock

Certain wines’s got their own kinda rhythm and beat, and they got soul. Reminding me of music and all its varied diversity.

Cabernet Sauvignon, well, a great Cabernet gets the mind thinkin’ ’bout a rock-solid, muscular track nearing on perfection that hits all the spots with power in melody, draws you along into another world strutting between the boisterous and the beauty. Kinda like Bob Seger’s “Roll Me Away”. It’s about the moment of here and now, gruff and real and poetic, with a vivid edge of danger and seduction.

Shiraz, well, a good Shiraz is akin to the magic made by Barry White – Mister Barry White, that is. This be velvety and slick, with scents of nightclub sweat, a grip of gleaming dark flesh and overall wanton decadence of the sex driven kind. Pinot Noir: a long, slow dive into gleaming brass-heaven, spiralling melodies that duck and dive, veering off-course into unplanned realms. The kind found in a John Coltrane jazz track.

All this talk of music be relevant, as when talking to the kid called Petri Venter about his Le Chant Rouge, a blended red wine bringing together one heck of a broad range of grape varieties, the kid reckons putting a blend like this together from different vinous notes is like composing a tune. And for this tune of Le Chant Rouge 2020, the kid throws in three classic Bordeaux varieties, namely Merlot (42%), Cabernet Sauvignon (24%) and Cabernet Franc (20%), with Shiraz (5%) and Sangiovese (4%) before two more Bordeaux numbers make an appearance, with Malbec (3%) and Petit Verdot (2%).

The grape-things grow on Le Chant’s spread out Polkadraai Hills, south-west of Stellenbosch, coastal, being around eight kilometres from the Atlantic Ocean at False Bay. Le Chant Rouge 2020 is only the second version of this red blend under the label bearing that now-familiar image of a bulky, solid crowing rooster aiming to be Charles Aznavour, but looking like Elvis Presley. This cock, a tribute to Le Chant’s origins, namely a winery owned by the French company Oddo Vins et Domaines.

“Blending wines is like producing a piece of music where the instruments are played by different parts of nature,” says Petri, getting back to the music analogy. “You have various vineyards of diverse varieties, and the aim is to create a harmonious whole in one wine representing the best aspects of each of the varieties, as well as capturing the unique effects your specific terroir has on the different grapes.”  And 2020 was a great year for getting this kind of thing going.

“The mild summer conditions of 2020 led to slow ripening of the grapes, ensuring optimal ripeness with concentrated flavours in the small, tight bunches,” says Petri. “This quality of fruit allowed for an astonishing palette of flavours to work with in creating the Le Chant Rouge blend, and the superb vintage conditions are evident in the just-released wine from 2020.”

The Kid – Petri Venter.

To add scope and verve, the seven grape varieties were vinified separately and aged in a variety of vessels – oak barrel, foudre and cement – for 24 months. Only then would Petri sit down before the heady variety of rhythms and instruments, scrutinising each liquid parcel separately, playing and trialling and erroring and trialling again before becoming assured that everything has fallen in place to create the best wine possible – one strumming the right riffs, blowing rock-solid horns and allowing a heady whack of precision percussion sections to carry it all forward. Expressing the heart and the mind through those good grapey stuff provided by earth and nature and weather and sun.

It tastes pretty good, too. Le Chant Rouge 2020 is driven by the tight partnership of Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon, these two comprising the back-bone of the blend. It’s red fruit and brightness, with Cabernet Sauvignon providing muscle and an attention-grabbing density on the mid-palate. The wine swings off from the Bordeaux red rhythm with a juicy, ringing hit from Sangiovese which adds a layered edge of spring and light to the wine. This all before the Shiraz kicks in, adding a really cool, satisfying edge of savoury, fynbos and silky Ribena reams to round of the wine. It’s rock solid, and it is complete. If you want to compare it to a tune, try the mix of classic musicality, pleasure and pure class in the song “Kid Charlemagne” as performed by the master band that is Steely Dan. Worth checking out here.

Just by chance you crossed the diamond with the pearl
You turned it on the world
That’s when you turned the world around
…..

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Alvarinho’s Time for Greatness Has Arrived

It is the coolest of green grapes, and becoming a hot ticket in the wine world. Those – we – ardent followers of the great Alvarinho fruit from the Vinho Verde region in northern Portugal have for some time known that its wines deserve naming among the world’s great whites. Crisp and bright, yet woven from reams of multi-layered complexity. Tense and tasting of cold, yet opening up into the mouth to form a broad layer of glowing sunlit charm.

And ever since it was announced that Alvarinho has been approved for planting in Bordeaux due to its ability to handle dry and hot conditions in an apparently climatically changing world, the profile of this variety has been elevated. Its presence has been noted. Its wines are receiving attention from previously uninterested circles. The time for Alvarinho has come, and that time is now.

The cultivar’s home lies in Portugal’s north-west, and across the border into Galicia, Spain. There, Alvarinho is called Albariño, and while the same variety, the Spanish versions have not attained the reputation for excellence for which the wines from Vinho Verde are known.

Vinho Verde is big wine country. Some 21 000ha of it, mainly whites, with Alvarinho being the main quality player along with Loureiro. For a long, long time, the image of Vinho Verde wines was driven by humungous brands of blended wines, such as Casal Carcia, Gatão and Lagosta which all contain a portion of Alvarinho and Loureiro, and a few others. Brisk, gluggable wines with a slight, understated fizz.

But what happened with Alvarinho in Vinho Verde is similar to the story of South African Chenin Blanc. Namely, its potential for a quality wine proposition was identified by visionary winemakers. Who started making site-driven wines, honed and polished into premium elixirs reflecting geographical provenance and astute cellar skills.

These single variety wines still bear the Vinho Verde regional seal, yet have over the past two decades changed the trajectory of the region, of which the wine world takes serious notice.

To illustrate and illuminate the state of play in the Alvarinho/ Albariño court, Joaquim Sá of Amorim Cork recently hosted a tasting of wines made from this variety originating from Portugal, Spain and – yes – South Africa.

There were eight wines in all – four from Portugal and two each from Spain and the Cape. All the Portuguese wines were from Monção E Melgaço, the most northerly of Vinho Verdes nine appellations, while the Spanish numbers originated from Rías Baixas.

The Cape wines were from Upper Hemel-en-Aarde and Devon Valley in Stellenbosch, and underscored the fact that Alvarinho does not have to be grown in areas where sardines and paella are national dishes to reach its full potential in finished wines.

Here, the take-out was that the variety overpowers terroir. The fruit is frigid and succulent, lean yet tautly muscular with broad shoulders leading to trim hips. Aspects evident in all eight wines tasted. It is a classy white grape, easily able to find a table among Riesling, Chablis and Sancerre.

Despite sourcing their grapes from singular sites, the Portuguese winemakers deploy a variety of vinification techniques to place a thumb-print on their Alvarinho offerings. So wood is used, and of the barrel-aged wines tasted in the line-up tasted, the stand-out wine was a Granito Cru Alvarinho 2022 from Portuguese superstar winemaker Luis Sebra. His Granito Cru wines are fermented in a combination of new and used wooden vats, after which aging commences in barrel for nine months – Sebra choosing not to reveal the age of the barrels.

It is a wine of such electricity that not even the dumbest bout of Eskom inefficiency can stop the power. The typical cool sea-spray and flintstone barges into the mouth with tempered aggression, and once the wine finds solace on the palate it reaches a state of instantaneous calm, that same state a frenetic housewife enters when the day’s second Zopax kicks in. Here immense flavours are revealed, gorgeously delightful stuff like cantaloupe and persimmon, gooseberry and green fig, sorrel sap and Key Lime peel.

The wooding of the wine results in a long, satisfying drift over the palate, ending in a sigh of sea-shell and conifer.

Alvarinho in its unadulterated purest was to be had in the Mendes&Symington Contacto 2023, a collaboration between Anselmo Mendes, one of the pioneers of single varietal Alvarinho, and the Symington family Port dynasty who have for some time now ventured beyond the fortified wines that made of them a world brand. The joint venture is an unwooded Alvarinho from the Monção E Melgaço Vinho Verde appellation, picked and fermented in steel where it then spent three months on the lees.

The result is a piercing shard of crisp dry white wine laced with traces of morning ocean fog, oyster shell and cut green pear. Despite the steely thrust, the wine draws an immense feeling of pleasure and appreciation from the palate, reverberating on the senses still seconds after the dollop has disappeared down the hatch.

The Spanish Albariños were less arousing, being slightly fuller, with their hips showing a bit of a cellulite wobble.

Lagar D Cervera Albarino 2023 was by far the best of the two, a wine wanting to race alongside the Vinho Verdes, but slackening in pace, unable to find the zing so dominant in the Portuguese wines. This wine is unwooded, lees aged and shows a hit of peach and yellow plum that is tasty, but shadow the freshness that is just dying to jump out from beneath its fruity flamenco skirt, but never quite does.

The two South African wines in the line-up were a revelation. Newton Johnson, pioneers of Cape Albariño – they prefer the Spanish name – showed their 2023 wine, while Kleine Zalze from Stellenbosch brought a Project Z Alvarinho 2022.

Newton Johnson’s Albariño provides a master-class in the interpretation of this variety with its emphasis on texture and sensual fruit depth. Life-affirming freshness and tuning-fork precision are complemented by an alluring compounded layer of white fruit tastes with a slight, delectable salt-marsh herbaceousness. An unwooded wine given a whack of exposure to concrete vessel, this wine brings together two of Albariño’s most attractive features: sophistication and class, with an unashamed promiscuous moreish drinkability.

For its irreverent Project Z range, Kleine Zalze sources Alvarinho grapes from Devon Valley in Stellenbosch, with fermenting and aging done in the clay amphorae so loved by winemaker RJ Botha and his team. It is a fascinating, charming wine – not as rivetingly energetic as more classic examples, but astounding in the golden fruited shroud lightly lying over the discernible freshness. Yellow peach and grapefruit are prominent, with the desired Alvarinho wash of stone and salinity making a commanding appearance on the finish.

Here’s to hoping more Cape producers will hear Alvarinho’s calling, as this fabulous variety has – like all Portuguese immigrants – shown to be at home in South Africa and a firmer presence on the local vinous landscape will be appreciated by keen imbibers of brilliant, cool and classy white wines.

The full line-up tasted:

Monção E Melgaço, Portugal

Mendes&Symington Contacto Alvarinho 2023 

Anselmo Mendes Tempo Alvarinho 2017

Anselmo Mendes Parcela Ứnica Vinho Verde 2021

Luis Sebra Granito Cru Alvarinho 2022

Rías Baixas, Spain

Fulcro A Pedreira Albariňo 2023

Lagar D Cervera Albariňo 2023

South Africa

Newton Johnson Albariňo 2023

Kleine Zalze Project Z Alvarinho 2022

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Delheim: The Pioneer of Estate Pinotage

With its centenary as a wine grape celebrated this year, a laudable focus falls on the early Pinotage pioneers. It’s well known by now that Lanzerac, the brand once owned by Stellenbosch Farmers’ Winery (SFW), was the first to release a commercial Pinotage wine – Lanzerac Pinotage 1959. The Stellenbosch estates Kanonkop and Bellevue are often credited for their early plantings of Pinotage (in fact, the grapes for that first Lanzerac came from Bellevue). But a deeper interest in this history led me to ask a different question: Which South African wine estate was the first to bottle Pinotage under its own label?

Concerning its wine activities, Lanzerac was only a brand at the time of the first bottling under the marque’s label owned by SFW. That initial 1959 Pinotage was, thus, made and bottled at SFW’s large corporate cellars. Nothing to do with the Lanzerac wine entity of today. So, who were the original, independent estates that farmed Pinotage out of personal conviction and produced the wine in their own cellars?

As it turns out, there’s an unsung hero in the history of Pinotage: Delheim estate in Stellenbosch’s Simonsberg region. Delheim made and bottled its first Pinotage in 1960 just a year after Lanzerac’s debut – possibly making it the first estate to release a Pinotage under its own name. (Copious research has not led to finding other Cape farms producing Pinotage bottled under an own label as early as 1960. But as with the record-keeping of Cape wine, you never know.)

This came as a bit of a surprise to me, as Delheim is more often associated with, firstly, the formidable personality of its late owner and winemaker, Spatz Sperling, and secondly, with its classic Grand Reserve Bordeaux-style blend and the highly acclaimed Edelspatz late-harvest sweet wine. But Pinotage, which still forms part of Delheim’s offering today, was actually one of the estate’s key varietals during Spatz’s time.

Victor Sperling, Spatz’s son, who now runs Delheim along with his sister Nora Thiel, confirms that Pinotage and Spatz were as synonymous as bratwurst and mustard.

“My father arrived from Germany at Delheim in 1951,” says Victor. “In his memoirs, written in 2005, he mentions that the farm was already experimenting with Pinotage winemaking in the 1950s. As far back as I can remember, Pinotage was always part of the Delheim story – something my father regularly discussed with friends like Frans Malan of Simonsig and Niel Joubert of Spier. When my sister and I took over, Pinotage was deeply rooted in Delheim’s DNA, both in terms of vineyard plantings and our wine portfolio.”

Reading through Spatz’s colourful memoirs, Pinotage crops up repeatedly. In fact, when he proposed to Vera Reinarz in 1965 – just two weeks after meeting her and barely five years after the first commercial Pinotage release – he did so over two glasses of Delheim Pinotage.

Those early Delheim Pinotage labels are particularly interesting in that they described the wine as a “Burgundian type,” meaning elegant, refined, and all the noble descriptors typically associated with Pinot Noir from Burgundy.

Roelof Lotriet, Delheim’s cellar master, believes that when he arrived at the estate, there was already a strong ethos around careful and respectful handling of Pinotage to avoid producing heavy or overwhelming wines.

“Tasting Delheim Pinotages from the 1970s and 1980s, I realised the approach here aligned with my own outlook on the cultivar,” says Lotriet. “It’s a complex red grape: it ripens early – long before other cultivars – and in the cellar, it ferments at a runaway pace. If you don’t handle it properly, it can get away from you, leading to high alcohol levels and harsh tannins.”

“I think Spatz Sperling understood all this from the beginning. I’d heard of him as a wine legend, mainly for his personality, but if you look at his writings and winemaking practices, he was a true pioneer in everything he did.”

Another major factor that undoubtedly helped Spatz and his successors master Pinotage was Delheim’s terroir. With Kanonkop as a neighbour, there’s clear proof that this is prime Pinotage country. Weathered granite soils 240 meters above sea level, and ideal sunlight exposure make it a natural home for the grape.

Delheim’s flagship Pinotage is Vera Cruz – named by Spatz in tribute to his wife, Vera. According to Roelof, making great Pinotage begins with meticulous grape sorting, to avoid off-putting flavors.

Victor and Vera Sperling with Nora Thiel.

“We walk through the vineyards and discard subpar bunches right there, then sort again at the cellar,” he says. “The destemmed grapes go into open fermenters, where fermentation begins rapidly – as is typical for Pinotage – and can be over in just a few days.”

Then comes the wood aging, a topic that still divides winemakers and critics. One camp believes Pinotage should be given generous new oak to help it shine and leave a lasting impression. The other argues that too much new oak masks the grape’s complex, layered character.

Roelof says Delheim has always leaned toward larger barrels for Pinotage aging and limited use of new oak. “We use 300L and 500L barrels, only about 35% new wood. The goal is to hit that sweet spot where the oak gives the wine multi-dimensional presence without overshadowing the grape’s subtle essence,” he explains.

Today, Roelof and his winemaking team are experiencing a renewed interest in Pinotage’s potential as South Africa’s signature grape, thanks to the wide range of stylistic interpretations emerging. Even Eben Sadie – arguably the country’s most famous and fashion-forward winemaker – has recently started working with Pinotage.

This revival can only yield positive results. After all, in the 8 000-year history of wine, a century is but a short tendril.

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