Opinion

Avontuur Estate: A Helderberg Adventure

~ Emile Joubert ~ 3 Comments

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

~ Emile Joubert ~ Leave a comment

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

~ Emile Joubert ~ 3 Comments

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

~ Emile Joubert ~ 5 Comments

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

~ Emile Joubert ~ 1 Comment

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

~ Emile Joubert ~ Leave a comment

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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Meerlust’s Monumental Cabernet Sauvignon 2021

~ Emile Joubert ~ 3 Comments

Expectations are there for the exceeding, an occurrence that is – for me – one of the greatest rewards for being embedded in the world concerned with the vineyard’s fermented offering. The daily partaking of a bottle of wine is one of life’s reliable joys: never mundane, consistent in the primal enjoyment thereof, yet startling in the diverse scope of sensorial experiences offered due to the endless array of varieties, styles and origins finding their way into your glass.

But when this experience is elevated from a passing daily pleasure to finding the magnificent and stupendous, joy and wonder being elevated to the realms of the surreal, this then when one feels this all-encompassing obsession with wine to be vindicated. A great wine makes it all make sense.  

It has taken me three days and two bottles of Meerlust Cabernet Sauvignon 2021 to reach the above conclusion, complemented by brief notes to fellow wine-loving mates that, among the steady flow of fine wines from the Cape’s current releases, this is one to take note of. For it is, as they say in the classics, a keeper.

The release of this specific wine, and the fact that it is a great wine, is suitably apt here in the year of 2025. For it was 50 years back that the first Meerlust wine – a Cabernet Sauvignon – was made for bottling under the estate’s label. Before then, from the farm’s establishing in 1693, right through the reign of the Myburgh family from 1756 until seventh generation Nico Myburgh took charge, Meerlust had sold its grapes and bulk wines to willing takers.

Nico Myburgh – father of current Meerlust proprietor Hannes – changed the family farm’s trajectory. He began planting the red varieties Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc and Merlot – Chenin Blanc, Cinsault and Sémillon had for decades been the major cultivars farmed – which led to the first Meerlust estate wine being bottled from the 1975 vintage. The next step was the release of this maiden Meerlust Cabernet Sauvignon in 1978, instantaneously forging the brand’s perennial status as an integral part of South Africa’s premium wine offering.

Plainly put, the estate’s Cabernet Sauvignon 2021 is one hell of a wine with which to celebrate half a century of winemaking under the Meerlust label. And its sublime quality and sheer beauty will be of special satisfaction to the proponents underscoring Cabernet Sauvignon grown in the Stellenbosch appellation as the region’s foremost and most distinctive wine grape variety.

But further than this: when scrutinising a wine such as Meerlust Cabernet Sauvignon 2021, and scraping the memory bank for recollections of Cabernet Sauvignons from other Stellenbosch producers such as Kanonkop, Rustenberg, Alto, Le Riche, Ernie Els – to name but only a smattering – it has to be said that no other red grape cultivar grown in South Africa is capable of presenting an array of wines showing the degree of class and regal nobility that Cabernet Sauvignon does.

This 2021 vintage from Meerlust was made from grapes grown on both sides of the Eerste River cutting through the property. The one section of Cabernet Sauvignon vines is set on a slope on the river’s left bank, the plants rooted in decomposed granite soils and almost full-on north-facing, squinting into the midday and afternoon sun. On the opposite bank there’s more Cabernet Sauvignon, growing here on the sandy alluvial soils, a flatland that has for centuries been home to Meerlust vines, the roots finding generous, kind purchase in the loose soils that are for a large part of the year moist due their close proximity of the Eerste River.

As is noticeable as more wines come to market, 2021 was a great year for Stellenbosch reds. A late winter brought lashing cold fronts, with a cool growing season resulting in extended ripening periods delivering concentrated grapes of visceral territorial and varietal expression.

Back at Meerlust, the two different parcels of Cabernet Sauvignon got themselves vinified separately, the young wines underwent malolactic fermentation and were kept apart in barrel for six months before being assessed and blended to agreeable portions, then sent back to mature in oak barrels for another 12 months. Half the barrels were new.

Obviously, the prospect of opening and experiencing a new Cabernet Sauvignon vintage from a renowned a marque as Meerlust comes with a set of predetermined expectations of the positive side. But even the loftiest expectations were overridden here, buried, by the sheer splendour and magnificence of this wine which, in April, is already my wine of 2025 thus far.

It is about completeness, and about structure; balance and harmony; about a mannered, agreeable charm that holds one with both the gentle finger-clasp of flirtation and the needy grip of seduction.

The wine has an evocative maritime, oyster-shell aroma, notes often found in well-schooled Cabernet Sauvignon, but mostly on wines of greater maturity. The saline scent, however, quickly gives way to broody, shadowy notes of autumnal fruit and brittle sun-dried cedar.

Upon the first taste the immediate presence and the wine’s commanding structure leads to a comparison of this Meerlust Cabernet Sauvignon 2021 with some forms of non-consumable beauty. Evocative statuesque images that came to mind are a Michelangelo statue sculpted from Carrara marble; a leopard on its haunches, the golden spotted hide glowing in the late-afternoon sun as its coiled muscles await signals from the mind to unleash the body onto hapless prey; tennis goddess Aryna Sabalenka pummelling a cross-court forehand past a frozen opponent.

In this wine, the muscled tannins have been sculpted into forms of grace and beauty that bear the whole body from the beginning of the sip to the final sappy throes of its finish. The experience is all encompassing, riveting dense beams of classic wine-flavoured elegance covered with plush, broad layers of dark-fruited tapestries where plum, mulberry and blackcurrant are – at this stage of its development – discernible.

But the lasting impression of Meerlust Cabernet Sauvignon 2021 is the way the wine appears polished to a state of clarity and purity, placing it a long way down on the road to the unachievable destination of perfection. No wine will ever get there, but the distance Meerlust has reached is one only attainable by a remarkable few.

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He Who noses wine, Knows Life itself

~ Emile Joubert ~ 5 Comments

The sense of smell is well-known as the one that evokes the most emotion, and there are a few scents that never fail to affect me. The salty breeze from the cold Cape ocean, with its hints of mussel shells and seagrass. A dusty Karoo dirt road just receiving the first few drops of a downpour. A dachshund puppy with its moist breath of sweet coffee. Sight may lead to belief, but smell draws forth a complete awareness of the beauty of life.

And with the harvest season now in full swing in the Cape winelands, as I write this, the air in this Boland region, with its unearthly blue hue, is filled with the distinct aroma of dying grapes. The fruit, born in September with the vines’ green shoots, has drawn sap, sugar, and ripeness from the warmth of summer and the earth, and is now harvested. The berries are severed from their stems, and with the death of one, the path to another life begins.

It is here that the birth of wine starts, the sugary sweet juice that flows into tanks and barrels – nowadays, clay and cement as well. Where nature’s wondrous magic devours the sugar to replace it with alcohol, the innocence of cultivated, pampered vines transformed into wine.

The perfume is lovely and magnetic – when my car window is open on the road between Stellenbosch and Wellington, and the wafts of fermenting grape juice flow through the open space, you not only see the enchanting Cape vineyard landscape but also experience it from deep within. As a wine lover, you become aware of a shared soul, between yours and that of the wine.

People who make wine are among my favourites on earth. Not only for the camaraderie and the ever-hospitable nature they share, but because they are, for me, wizards. Wizards with the intuition, ability, and understanding of wine to transform the gifts from the vineyards and the earth into the bottles and glasses of liquid that millions consider one of life’s great blessings.

Now, for winemakers, it may seem routine and straightforward, but there are certain aspects of their work that I as a wine enthusiast find endlessly fascinating. It must always be so, for wine and the work of winemakers should never be regarded as a mere everyday commodity.

There is the matter of skin contact and cap management which is so critical in making red wine. I can sit for days by the open concrete tanks at Kanonkop, watching the mass of dark purplish Cabernet Sauvignon and Pinotage skins lying there, dark and mysterious and brooding, with tiny bubbles of fermenting juice piercing through the crust. Then, every two hours, staff members come with poles attached to a flat plank and push the skins down, replacing the pressed layers with ink-dark juice, and when the skins rise back up, they are glistening wet and sparkle like black stars.

Needless to say, the smell is deep and overwhelming, that sweet fruit and sourly pungent aroma that suddenly rises and hangs in broad, heavy pools in the cellar air. And then you realise this is the process during which red wines come into being. The skins that impart colour to the fermentation, along with tannins, which will let the final wine linger further on the palate. Together with the unfathomable complexities of mouthfeel, palate weight, and structure. That this seemingly simple process of pressing skins through juice can have such a decisive effect on something, this remains a wonder.

Then there is the mystery of the wine barrel. The oak tree that is felled at 180 years of age in the forests of France. Staves are cut from the wood, and the staves lie in the open air for two years, baking in the warm summers and shivering in the icy winter months. The green scents of the wood disappear, and then the staves are crafted by skilled artisans into barrels – beautiful objects with flat tops and pleasing curves.

In the Cape, the barrels are filled with Chardonnay juice, and fermentation occurs behind closed doors in the dark, invisible spaces of French oak. Then, for a year, the young, restless, and eager wine rests in its wooden home. The product of the vineyard and the French oak may initially feel somewhat restless in one another’s company, somewhat rigid. Yet they find each other.

The wood jealously preserves the fresh elegant aromas of citrus, nut, and flower from the Chardonnay – those elements of the terroir that the grapes and the wine convey. And together with this protection, the oak barrel graciously imparts texture to the wine, a depth along with nature’s secrets.

All of this occurs under the watchful eye of the winemaker, and their sensory beings. To appreciate this is nothing less than a privilege, and it is enduring. And we thank you.

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The Challenge of Professional Cheese-tasting

~ Emile Joubert ~ 1 Comment

Despite my immersive involvement in the wine industry, which features almost daily tastings of an expansive variety of wines, my palate was utterly unprepared for the sensorial onslaught from a mighty array of South African cheeses. This observation hit home when I stepped in as one of over 100 judges at this year’s South African Dairy Championships, tasked with feeling, sniffing and tasting some of the country’s best cheesy offerings.

The first observation made upon arriving at the Eensgezind venue in Durbanville where the judging took place in February this year was the immense variety and number of cheeses available in South Africa. A typical cheese lover exposed to the shelves of Woolworths, Checkers, Pick n Pay, and Spar, would have no idea of the multitude of cheeses being produced throughout the entire country. Rows upon rows of cheeses in every conceivable colour, size, and shape stood waiting for the judges, and the visual assault was only surpassed by the familiar headily pungent, earthy aroma of cheese that hung in the room like a fragrant cloud. Here, I thought, things could only get deliciously delightful.

As an avid cheese lover, my stomach immediately growled at the prospect of so much tastiness in such abundance before me: snow-white balls of Mozzarella, pale yellow wheels of Brie, chunks of golden Cheddar, creamy blue cheeses streaked with green-blue veins, wheels of Gouda and Boerenkaas, bowls brimming with fragrant cream cheeses, and so on.

But with about 80 cheeses to taste, even a greedy gourmand like me knew that the focus would have to be on tasting, not indulging. Every sport or hobby has its injuries, and excessive cheese tasting is guaranteed to lead to some kind of painful gallbladder attack or another internal ailment with unpleasant symptoms of a possible projectile nature.

Like wine tasting, cheese is judged by looking at and smelling it, then placing the stuff in one’s mouth. I also gave each piece a firm squish between thumb and forefinger, which, besides making me look like a true cheese boffin, gave me an idea of the cheese’s texture. Camembert should – as my neighbour’s willing spouse always says – neither be too hard nor too soft, and Cheddar should preferably not leave a greasy film when handled, as such a trait could be considered consumer-unfriendly.

Smell and texture are important, but much like wine, the majority of the assessment of cheese occurs in the mouth. To do this, I cut a wedge from the cheese in question -Camembert kicked-off proceedings – and placed it between my tongue and palate. Once the natural heat of the mouth began to soften the cheese, I pressed the stuff with my tongue against the roof, after which the Camembert melted and spread throughout my tasting orifice – which is important. The palate has certain areas where specific flavours are more strongly detected than others, so the cheese must cover as large a portion of the mouth as possible.

With wine, this is all very easy since the liquid fills the entire mouth. But with cheese, you need to work it around the mouth to unlock all the flavours, after which those flavour nuances must be analysed by the sensorial-detecting parts of the brain. It is challenging oral work, trust me.

The judge’s duty is then to assign a score out of 30 to the specific cheese and prepare to scrutinise the next cheese. But what to do with the already tasted cheese lingering in your mouth? As mentioned, swallowing this portion of cheese and the following 79 clods of dairy could lead to despair, physical discomfort and intense projective vomiting.

For this, the cheese tasting room has tables bearing paper cups, the kind in which one buys takeaway Ricoffy from the corner store. The purpose of the cup is to catch the chewed, pulpy cheese that you as a judge have tasted so that the rich, creamy food does not have to be swallowed.

Compared to wine tasting, this is an unflattering affair. With wine, you simply spit it into the container in a neat stream. However, the chewed, slimy ball of cheese in your cheeks makes for a messy situation, as the slimy dairy lump must be regurgitated into the paper cup. This action is devoid of dignity, especially when a few wet strands of Brie stick to your upper lip while a fellow judge tries to strike up a conversation with a strip of regurgitated full-cream Cottage cheese attached to her chin.

Another challenge is keeping your palate refreshed between tasting the various cheeses, especially the strongly flavoured ones such as Cheddar, washed-rind and blue cheese. During a wine tasting, a sip of water after every four or five tastings is enough to cleanse the tasting tools. This is not the case with a strong 18-month-old Cheddar or a hard sheep’s milk cheese. Those flavours cling stubbornly inside your mouth, the very reason those cheeses are such delightful things to eat.

So, the Granny Smith apple is, in my opinion, the cheese judge’s best friend. The green apples are spread throughout the room, and each tasting of a strong cheese is followed by a thin slice of apple, the cool tart flavour swiftly removing the lingering cheese taste and sharpening the judge’s tools for the next batch.

Despite the cool professional obligations associated with tasting cheeses for the SA Dairy Awards, there was more than enough space to make a few subjective observations.

As mentioned, the South African cheese scene is vast, diverse, and includes many truly delicious cheeses. I certainly have no idea which producer’s cheese I was tasting, but the mature Cheddar cheese category was outstanding, the blues were subtly creamy with the right salty-mould flavour characteristic of blue cheeses, and there were sheep’s milk cheeses that could hold their own against those from Spain and France. There were also some great Goudas, especially the more aged ones with their bright orange sheen.

With such cheeses to complement the offerings of the local wine industry, South Africa’s reputation as a true gourmet country is stronger than ever, and it is only going to get better. This country can do many things, and it particularly knows what good taste is.

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The Wild Cape West that tamed Pinot Noir

~ Emile Joubert ~ 3 Comments

Sometimes, the wish is for it to be forever autumn in the Western Cape of South Africa. Yes, spring is a damn fine time of the year, too, as the bright blue days envelop the earth with a glowing warmth, this so welcome to the soul and the body after a raw, grey Cape winter. But I love the easy season that is autumn, which passes like one long relaxing, satisfying sigh after a hot summer. The days are, currently, still warm to the point of discomfort and the sun’s summery harshness is still evident at mid-day.

But as the days close, the light softens, spreading a broad, deep glow over the Cape, with the air cooling to a pleasing freshness as the sun sets and the brisk air draws aroma from the ocean, descending upon the city with scents of oyster-shell and salt; brine and seaweed.

In this season sandwiched between summer and winter, my wine preferences change along with the days’ atmospheric presentations. Over the past few months, buckets of Chardonnay and Sauvignon Blanc and sparkling wine have been consumed, much of it due to deep-drawing wanton summer thirst. Now here in autumn, my drinking is less frenetic in action, with the need for the offering from the vineyard still being as keen as ever. I will probably drink slightly less, but will be drinking with greater gusto in search of flavours that be seductive, alluring and selfishly satisfying.

This autumn I have noticed empty bottles of Pinot Noir piling-up at the recycling bin, leading me to the logic that this variety is currently being entertained by my vinous desires. Looking at the empties, most are well-known suspects: Newton Johnson, Hamilton Russell, Paul Clüver, Iona… heavens, even a bottle of Two Oceans Pinot Noir 2015 slipped into the realm.

A newish Cape Pinot Noir that found its way into the selection, and due to its tastiness is being reassessed as I here type forth on an autumn Sunday, is the wine from Fryer’s Cove at Doringbaai on the West Coast some 300km north of Cape Town.

It is a good time to be talking about this wine, as that part of the West Coast from whence it originates is particularly splendid during this time of the year. It is God’s Country up there next to the Atlantic Ocean at Doringbaai where Fryer’s Cove winery commands the former crayfish factory that was built in 1925. The ocean roars and broods and spits, sunlight paints the town and the surrounding dune-veld in ever-changing vivid hues, and the local atmosphere is akin to John Steinbeck’s Cannery Row, only here the local parlance being in strikingly colourful Afrikaans, where a kindred admiration for one’s mother – and the mother of others – receives especial attention.

Liza Goodwin, Fryer’s Cove winemaker out West.

As far as wine is concerned, Fryers’ Cove is especially known for its tremendous Sauvignon Blanc wines made from grapes growing just outside Doringbaai a few hundred metres from the ocean. But with the extreme physical conditions up there, it is no surprise that the frigid soul of the Pinot Noir grape has found a home, resulting in a charming and very delicious red wine.

Grapes for Fryer’s Cove Pinot Noir grow just north from Doringbaai in the region of Lutouw. If this address is confusing, be assured it is just there by the well-known place of Koekenaap. You know, that town just east of Papendorp, mos.

The Pinot Noir is planted some 15kms inland from the Atlantic Ocean, soils being sandy. Rainfall is only 150mm a year and even at the height of summer, midday temperatures are known to barely pass 25°C. Even with irrigation, the growth cycles are prolonged due to the real cool conditions, resulting in small berries with immense fruit concentration.

In its making, Pinot Noir grapes are harvested in the early morning hours and trucked to the Fryer’s Cove winery at Doringbaai, some 35km south from Lutouw. After destemming, the berries are cold-soaked for three days. Fermentation takes place in stainless steel tanks with gentle pump-overs twice daily to extract colour and tannins from the skins, all the time taking care to not disrupt the balance Pinot Noir requires for ensuring elegance and finesse in the resulting wines.

“Pinot Noir is a thin-skinned grape – literally and figuratively,” says Liza Goodwin, Fryer’s Cove winemaker. “As soon as you begin to work harshly in the critical fermentation stage, the equilibrium can falter, resulting in harsh tannins taking over,” she says. “But again, if you go too gentle, the wine becomes thin and diluted. No wonder they call Pinot Noir the heart-break grape – it has a will of its own and requires utmost diligence from the winemaker, each step of the way.”

Once fermented, the wine is matured in 3rd and 4th fill 500L French Oak barrels for eight months before being bottled.

In the mouth, Fryer’s Cove Pinot Noir 2023 cracks, whistles and rips. It is a busy wine, despite Pinot Noir’s reputation for being one of broody elegance. Here, there is fruit, and lots of it, namely sour cherry, mulberry picked green and a run of Ribena. The fruit splatters and moves, crunches, but at the same time a lasso of grippy tannins corral the brightly flavoured medley into a wine of interesting structure.

It explodes in its attack on the mouth with Ukrainian drone-like accuracy, warming on the mid-palate to caress with further layers of fruit, a twang of salt-lick and a just-discernible secondary note of autumnal forest-floor. The latter will be furthered as this delectable Pinot Noir ages, and if it is forever autumn, then it is all right by me.

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