SA craft wines that deserve a place at the high table

Great wines are not always interesting, nor are interesting wines always great. Wines which do not pretend to greatness should at least deliver interest and entertainment value. This was particularly evident to me while sampling a couple of range presentations by craft producers visiting Gauteng with their latest releases, as well as the usual eclectic lineups assembled several times a week in my tasting room.

I was treated to a generous spread of classic cultivars (probably 10 of each) and a handful of some pretty obscure varieties. Prices ranged from about R1,000 a bottle down to about R70. Most reflected considered and thoughtful winemaking: there was very little junk.

Bottles presented in my tasting room are sampled “blind” — in other words, labels out of sight. (These are the only wines I score — and a selection from my latest ratings appears below). Wines which are “talked through” by winemakers explaining what they are aiming to achieve are obviously tasted sighted.

These handmade statement wines are examples of what Frances Percival calls “narrative luxury”, where the message of craft is an intrinsic part of the encounter. (This is not unlike high-end dining, when the restaurateur/maître d’ appears at the table to talk you through the source of every item on the menu). Accordingly, the experience is not only about taste, it is about gratifying the consumer’s desire to be the recipient of an authentic artefact, an object of creativity.

Naturally there were several highlights: it’s been some time since I tasted Adi Badenhorst’s single-site wines, almost all of them from vineyards that qualify for Old Vine status. Most are line-priced in the high R300s and were very good. The Klip Kop Haut Granitika Chenin 2020 was linear and pure, luminously expressive, saline and zesty. The Bokveld Pinot 2020 was surprising and engaging: aromatically intense, textured, very savoury. The Sk’Windjiesvlei Tinta was a standout example of what can be achieved with the varietal.

John Seccombe’s Thorne & Daughters Cat’s Cradle 2020 (from a 47-year-old vineyard) delivers haunting intensity, despite elusive aromatics: it’s all about texture, a chenin blanc to sip and savour over a long evening. Its rival among his white wines is a most unlikely sauvignon blanc, the Snakes and Ladders 2020, from a portion of the legendary Van Lill vineyard. Full-flavoured and mouth-filling, it’s the type of wine which even the cheerleader of the Anything But Sauvignon brigade would save for a special occasion.

For a few years Joseph Tongai Dhafana, sommelier at La Colombe (probably one of the best restaurants in SA), has produced wine under his Mosi label, in partnership with several credible producers. His chenin blanc, vinified by the Mullineuxs, is always worth buying. So too is his recently launched 2019 red blend, a joint venture with Harry Hartman.

Moving the aesthetic now from narrative luxury to the more traditionally understood sense of deluxe, my tastings yielded several examples vying for a place at the high table. The Capensis Chardonnay 2016 is a perfect candidate: Burgundian in its DNA, harmonious, multilayered, opulent, yet still fresh. Likewise, the Graham Beck Cuvée Clive 2015, which has recently come into its own, deserves to be treated as the serious fizz it’s been designed to become. Balanced and restrained, it has a golden thread of fresh citrus spun with fresh-baked bread running through its length, and lingering on the palate long after it has gone.

Finally, a piece of history — the Groot Constantia Gouverneurs Reserve 2005, kindly sent to me by Boela Gerber and then put through its paces in a blind tasting with the same lack of ceremony reserved for new recruits. Nuanced, leathery, whiffs of forest floor, sautéed shiitake mushrooms and the lineaments of red fruits: living proof of why age-worthy wines should be matured, it serves to remind us that consuming great bottles too soon is just infanticide.