The author with a dead tuna.

THE fish are jumping, and they happen to be tuna. Last week myself, Goose Wines juice-fermenter Alwyn Liebenberg and Mark Goldsworthy from Edgebaston Wines went 30 miles off Cape Point and caught ourselves a boat-load. Mostly longfin, but running in at 30kg, they were way bigger than usual. I also got a yellow-fin which, although smallish, made my day: yellow-fin has that crimson-coloured flesh that is far superior to long-fin, and besides blue-fin the yellow provides the ultimate sashimi experience.

So first day it was sashimi. Second day seared steaks. And on the third day I was getting pretty tired or rare, bloody fish. So this recipe was used to turn a loin of tuna into a great meal, highly recommended if you can get your hands on some yellow-fin.

Take one loin or fillet of tuna, about 3kg. Place in a casserole dish. Season with salt and pepper. Pour a glug of olive oil over the fish. Role it around in the oil to ensure the whole fish is covered. Now add the following: 2 cups of black olives, halved and pitted; 3 fistfuls of chopped flat-leaf parsley; the juice of 3 lemons; 1 tablespoon of lemon zest; 1 glass of dry white wine. Mix all this stuff over and around the fish.

Right. Pre-heat the oven to 220 degrees. Cover the casserole and bung the dish in the oven. Cook for 20-25mins. Remove. Open dish. Break the cooked tuna into bite-size chunks. Serve with the sauce over brown rice.

Eat with a spoon and hunks of bread to mop the juices.

To drink I like a bracing unwooded Chardonnay, and reached for the Paradyskloof 2009. This wine has a steely, grippy, zingy juiciness that perfectly accompanies the fish and is a great wine to have before eating as it gets the stomach juices going. Actually, I have to remember to take Jan Boland some tuna.

Go fishing, and bon appetit.

Kid Finlayson strikes a pose while old man Walter hits the wine glass.

ANYONE wondering what David Finlayson has been up to since leaving Glen Carlou last year will have to look past the cellar and the vineyards. It would appear that Finlayson has joined Bruce Jack and Charles Back in the sparsely populated territory inhabited by very good winemakers who also happen to be worth their weight in dried husks as more than competent marketers.

David’s skill as winemaker is well-known. He ensured Glen Carlou stayed on the map as one of the Great SA Estates after dad Walter sold the joint to Donald Hess, producing some of the country’s finest Chardonnays as well as not-too-shabby dollops of Shiraz. An easy-going approach somewhat belies David’s keen knowledge of local and international wines, attention to detail in the winemaking process and an admirable willingness to get his hands dirty in the cellar and put in long hours of gut-busting work.

And in the process – over a few short years – the Kid has built-up a few brands out of nowhere, brands that would have taken a corporation teams of overpaid consultants to develop.

The base for these brands is Edgebaston, the 22ha spread David owns outside Stellenbosch. Next to L’Avenir, opposite Morgenhof.  He was moonlighting as Edgebaston winemaker while at Glen Carlou, and his first crack at the brand big time came with the Edgebaston GS Cabernet Sauvignon 2005. The wine honours one of South Africa’s greatest wines, namely the Cabernets made by George Spies, former production head at Stellenbosch Farmers Winery under the label “GS”.

When the Wine Spectator went ballistic over a GS 1968 (the only other vintage was a 1966), David contacted the Spies family and was given their blessing to honour the patriarch with a modern version of the South African classic. In the process the Edgebaston version has become a legend in its own right. (Those who believe in Platter ratings would have noted 5 stars for the 2005.)

Next up was a wine whose label I initially scoffed at. The Pepper Pot. With a rather dodgy sketch of a three-legged African pot. Serious?

The wine, no. A seductive smoky, moreish blend of Tannat and Shiraz and Mourvèdre. Rhone in style, but pure, clean accessibility. Delicious. Not up its arse. Accessible. And consumers have found the name and label as tasty, with feverish local and international sales surprising many, including David himself.

The latest from the Edgebaston stable is The Berry Box. And the smart money says this bottle is going to become about as trendy to have on a Sandton or Banty Bay dining table as an iPhone and a set of platinum worry beads.

The wine is a blend of Shiraz, Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc, Petit Verdot and Merlot. And the label and the name says it all.

Yes, the bloody thing does taste of berries, so none are going to be used to describe it. But it is a really lovely wine: surprisingly elegant with a dramatic perfume, the kind you’d expect to smell on a Tahitian bridesmaid.

None of this The Jam Jar in-your-face sweet sluttishness. The Berry Box is a real wine, but made with care and attention to detail, shining with radiant grape flavours. An absolute delight to drink.

At around R60 a bottle it is going to fly off the shelves as was the case with The Pepper Pot, presenting David with his next challenge, namely how to up his volumes.

But like any other of his other challenges, mince-meat will be made of this one, and washed down with a glass of Berry Box.

A letter from my American friend Zelda after a visit to the SA Cheese Festival

Dear Emile

What a pity we couldn’t see you during our recent visit to the Cape. Everything is looking a-for-away for the 2010 World Cup. The city is beautiful and the winelands were far more splendid than I expected. Of course, the stunning weather we had at the end of April helped!

Thanks for the suggestion to visit the Cheese Festival in Franschhoek, especially the tip to be there early. This was very handy as I had never expected to experience a food and wine event of this expansive nature in South Africa. The products were fantastic and I was especially impressed by the help and advice we received from those working behind the stands.

Your cheddar cheeses are especially brilliant!

Of course, we had a good look at the wine offerings, especially enjoying the Pinotage presence. Zach has not quite cottoned onto this Pinotage thing – despite your attempts to convert him – but I enjoyed the wines. Then again, I am no missus Robert Parker.

What did upset me was the loutish drunken behaviour of some people at the festival. We were quite disturbed as this was counter to what we had all been experiencing in the Cape up until our visit to the Cheese Festival.

How is it that wine is served to children obviously under the age of 18? (I believe this is your legal age. Ours is 21!) To see representatives from wineries pouring their wines to kids really left a sour taste and is no good advertisement for the South African wine industry.

Besides this we were treated to the unfortunate sight of many young people vomiting next to the public toilets. On the Sunday we were there one young woman had to receive medical treatment in full view of us and other festivalgoers, obviously the result of some alcohol-problem. Probably alcohol poisoning – yuck!

As you know, I am no goody-twoshoes and you and I have both partied our asses off on many an occasion. (Remember Tucson in ’88?)

However, as you are in the PR industry and always coming up for the South African wine industry I thought I’d just mention this experience which was really not pleasant. I would like to believe that we chose a bad day when there was something in the air and that South Africans are generally not so irresponsible when it comes to wine festivals. I would especially like to believe that there was some lapse in security and authority, as surely the organisers of the Cheese Festival would not allow such illegal wine-serving?

All in all, South Africa is a great wine country, and I’ll take up your offer of shipping some bottles across.

(Emile replies: Zelda, I couldn’t make the Cheese Festival this year, as you know. I am, however, sorry to hear about your and Zach’s experience. It especially galls me as three years ago I alerted the organisers to the fact that wine was poured to under-aged drinkers. I was told that this was unacceptable and that it would not be tolerated. Unfortunately we are not known for prompt action in South Africa, so just have to hope that somewhere down the line somebody decides to do something about the alcohol situation at the Cheese and other festivals. As you point out, it is a great pity that the image of our wine industry has to be tainted by this reckless and illegal behaviour. Underage drinking and public drunkenness are illegal. Unlike the States however, we seem to be more tolerant. For what reason I do not know.)

After a hectic week, Julius Malema found time to speak to WineGoggle.

 You have been pretty quiet over the past few days. Is this as a result of Jacob Zuma’s rebuke?

Not at all. I have been trying to ascertain the distinct difference between the wines of Pommard and Volnay in Burgundy. I, like I am sure others, am counfounded by these differences in wines made from vineyards grown a few hundred metres apart. Volnay’s floral elegance and Pommard’s aggressive power are as different as President Zuma’s first and third wife, and for a child of the soil – like me – it is fascinating to be reminded of the vagaries of soil science.

Getting back to that last trick you pulled by chasing a British journalist our of your news conference – wasn’t that a bit churlish?

I honestly thought the journalist was the British wine writer Tim Atkin. I did not know it was a gentleman from the BBC. My aggression may have been misplaced, but I have been driven to fury by Atkin and the other colonialist media trashing South African wines. It was a simple case of mistaken identity, something most wine judges and critics are familiar with.

Since your most recent visit to Zimbabwe you have spread fears among South African farmers that land is to be nationalised. How serious are you about this?

Only wine farmers daring to grow grape varieties in areas unsuited to these cultivars will be nationalised. In other words, if you are growing Sauvignon Blanc in the Northern Cape, my people will come a calling. Or Colombard in Constantia. That sort of thing. I mean, would Napoleon have allowed Shiraz to be planted in the Olifantsrivier? I think not. We have to let the farmers know that they can’t just do as they please by offering assertive guidance in the form of land restitution.

But you won’t actually shoot the “Boers”?

No man, of course not. And we at the ANC don’t need to. They are such an argumentative bunch they are already shooting themselves in the foot. Attend any gathering of Vinpro, the Pinotage Association of Wosa and you will see that there are more warring factions than there were in Bosnia. No, they don’t need us, they are doing it themselves.

Wine farmers are also pretty stupid in choosing their actions. Look at the recent hoopla over mining in the winelands. News had scarcely hit the streets that a prospecting licence was being sought when winemakers took to the street in protest, led by a chanting red-haired Mamma. A few days later the Government ANC comrades announced plans to nationalise farmland. Not one winemaker raised an eyebrow. I may have failed woodwork, but you guys obviously failed geography.

Where did your interest in wine begin?

 My woodwork teacher gave extra lessons at his flat. After a hefty sanding session, there was nothing like a cold glass of Graca to cool down the parched throat. He taught me about screws, hard wood, diameter, length and wine. Come to thing of it, I wonder how I ever did manage to fail.

Do you hate white people?

Only if they don’t know their Bordeaux vintages, leave lipstick marks on my Riedels and don’t pay the bill at the Butcher’s Shop. They are an OK bunch, just very reactionary and hysterical. I can’t even threaten to kill them and they go all misty-eyed. They still have very hot women, enough of whom are fortunately crazy about a lover boy like me.

What is your opinion on the state of black empowerment in the local wine industry?

Doesn’t really faze me, as there is not much bucks in the industry – 2 percent of GDP? What a joke. We are after the big stuff, like mines and industry. But most of the people involved in the wine industry are coloured, who are really not blacks, so I am really not concerned. Quality is an issue: as long as we get quality wines, I don’t care who the hell makes it.

What are your favourite wines?

That’s like asking me who my favourite anti-imperialist revolutionary is. I enjoy a bit of bubbles, preferring French. The mousse is far more integrated in French fizz than with the local stuff, and the Chardonnay element is more limey and understated than they pronounced biscuity nuances the South African bubblies have. I also love Shiraz, but not in the Northern Rhone style – why add white to the red? Do they think the Shiraz needs white (viognier) because the red on its own is not good enough? See, imperialism is found everywhere.

Singer Steve Hofmeyr has invited you to a braai (barbecue). Will you attend?

Most certainly. Steve is a dab hand at outdoor cooking and we will enjoy his famous one fillet-three-lady sauce cooked medium rare. I shall be bringing the wine, which in this case will be Rust-en-Vrede Estate 1998, which was a fantastic vintage, as well as a magnum of KWV Roodeberg lovingly looted by one of my members. Wine that has been hard won  tastes so much better, you know.

Riaan Smit writes about his harvest at South Africa’s First Growth estate – and prepares for the next one.

 The last Cabernet Sauvignon grapes were crushed at Kanonkop just before Easter. Harvest 2010 is over at South Africa’s “First Growth” estate.

 I felt the same melancholy, the same sadness, I experienced at Chateau La Gordonne in Provence last September after vendanges 2009. Better get used to being reminded of my mortality at the end of harvest.

 Wine makers only have an allotted number of vintages in a life. I started my journey to become a wine maker in my mid-forties and have “lost” many vintages. But the joy of wine is so much that I count my self incredibly privileged to have maybe two decades of vintages left.

 I may be off to the Southern Rhone or Burgundy in September and that will make it three harvests in 13 months.

 Harvests are supposed to be hectic, but what sticks in my mind about the Kanonkop harvest is the opposite of hectic. The place retained its classy serenity throughout. Crush 2010 was wine maker Abrie Beeslaar’s eight solo vintage at the estate and the atmosphere was largely because he very clearly knows his stuff inside out.

 Serenity, that is, with the exception of the bantering of the team of guys who punch down the caps of skins in the 16 open cement fermenters every two hours, 24 hours a day. They build muscle, sleep, and watch videos.

 I thoroughly enjoyed being part of the harvest team. The cellar guys worked long, relentless hours and I have huge respect for them – Oom Frikkie (whose father and grandfather worked at Kanonkop), Oom Gerald, Jeremy, AD, Terence, Christopher, and Quinton.

 Jeremy, Kanonkop’s lab technician, also started studying wine making at Elsenburg this year.

 Although I spend a fair number of late evenings on the crush pad, I had to attend classes and write tests at Elsenburg throughout the harvest. I could not nearly match the hours these guys put in.

 A typical day started at 07h00 in Abrie’s office with skriflesing en gebed and a discussion of the day ahead. Then the crush equipment, conveyors, pipes, and pumps were set up and soaped down again. (Everything had been cleaned and soaped down the night before after the day’s crush.)

 The 20-odd woman who sorted the grapes on three vibrating tables arrived at 08h30 – and the first grapes shortly afterwards. About 40 tons of grapes were crushed per day. All 40 of these tons passed over the sorting tables and the process often went on until 20h00 and later.

 The Pinotage yield at Kanonkop was down by more than half. A Black South Easter in October last year, during the crucial flowering stage, blew away more than half the normal crop.

 But a recent tank tasting of 10 Pinotages revealed some promising wine. It was a blind tasting for me – I could not connect block numbers on the samples to the age of the vines in the various blocks – and the wine from the 1953 block stood out prominently. This and some other Pinotage are undergoing malolactic fermentation in new French oak barrels.

 The 1953 block is sold as a premium Black Label Pinotage. The first release this year of only 1000 bottles of the 2007 Black Label, at R1 000 per bottle, is sold out. I tasted this wine again three weeks ago and it is a great wine that will hold its own against the best from anywhere.

 Kanonkop Pinotage 2008 was released about two weeks ago and has beautiful freshness with typical Pinotage cherry flavours and a hint of banana.

 At the start of harvest in early February, about 40 000 liters of Pinotage Rose – a first for Kanonkop – was made. It brought back very happy memories of my harvest at Chateau La Gordonne, in Cotes du Provence – the heart of Rose making in France.

 The Kanonkop Rose, fermented dry, has a refreshing minerality and may show good fruit once it has settled in the tanks.

 This Rose will be bottled under a Kanonkop label if it passes the palate test by proprietors Johann and Paul Krige and wine maker Abrie.

 Abrie described the vintage as “difficult” because of patches of uneven ripeness in the grapes, but also expressed satisfaction with “what we have in our tanks”.

 He reckons the 2010 Kanonkop wines will most likely not have big tannic structures and this will allow the expression of fruit in the wine to be more upfront.

 So, it is a mere five months until my next harvest – the smell of fermenting grapes and freshly hydrated yeast and the clanking of pipe ends and humming pumps. Can I ever get tired of it? I don’t think so.

Like most South Africans, I have lost friends and other acquaintances in the massacre arena that would be this country’s road system. Over 14 000 thousand people are dying on our roads each year, a fact highlighted by some well-publicised cases over the past weeks. These include singer Jub Jub who ploughed into a group of schoolchildren, an illegal teenage driver who killed a motorcyclist in the Cape Town city centre and five people who died in a Citi Golf when someone jumped a red light in Modderdam Road.

And we still have to endure the notoriously carnage-filled Easter week-end.

So what’s this got to do with booze? Well, pretty much the death of 7 000 people. Statistics would have it that half of the country’s road fatalities are alcohol-related. And now we are just talking fatalities – just think of the physical and psychological damage caused by accidents.

The road authorities are fighting a losing battle against drunken driving. Organisations like the Association for Responsible Alcohol Use (ARA) and companies such as SAB and Brandhouse are trying their level best to change the South African mindset with advertising campaigns warning us against the dangers of drinking and driving. Yet we continue to get behind the wheel, pissed to the gills, roaring off into the night.

Road-blocks trap hundreds of drunk drivers each week, most of whom are thoroughly aware of the consequences of their actions. But we still take the risk. We are too stupid to get the message or too backward to embrace the values that a civilised society trying to save the lives of its citizens demands of us.

That’s why I will continue to lose friends and acquaintances on these roads and why I will continue to take my life into my own hands when I get behind the wheel.

So is there a solution to this problem?

Yes, but this would entail using extreme measures. And should extreme measures not be used in extreme situations?

That’s why South Africa should implement a system whereby anybody wishing to drink should supply a licence to do so. You want to buy a whisky at a pub or six beers at the bottle store? Your bar-coded licence is swiped and your drinking history fed into a central computer system. Any information listing you as a problem drinker is presented to the seller of the liquor, who in turn has a set of guidelines the relevant organisation has to adhere to.

If the buyer has been trapped for drinking and driving, he or she may not purchase liquor for a year. That old lady buying a bottle of gin at 10:00 every morning will have her licence swiped and is to be alerted to the fact that she is becoming a problem drinker. If she doesn’t slow down, the computer holding all her alcohol-related information will alert the authorities, who will send around a social worker to deal with her problems.

That little punk who has just ordered a set of tequila shooters will hand over his drinking license for scanning. Whoops – said brat was involved in a date rape incident, and is thus not allowed to drink for six months.

And so it goes, you can think of your own examples.

Sure, the liquor companies are not going to like this. Many of them see their sole goal as ensuring their product is as easily available to everyone as it should be. (Hey – you companies promoting booze at car washes in the townships on Sunday mornings, it’s you I’m talking about.)

But if South Africa wants to save itself from the savagery caused by excessive drinking, we have to embrace an iron curtain. It may not be comfortable or pleasant, but it is going to protect us in the long run. After all, it is a matter of life and death.