American pinotage.

SELLING Pinotage at $45 a bottle? Yes, but it is not a South African Pinotage.

Loma Prieta Winery, overlooking Monterey Bay and the Santa Cruz coastline in California, first released a Pinotage in 2008. It has won three gold medals in “prestigious wine competitions”, reports winebusiness.com, but does not name the competitions. (Sounds like a South African PR industry press release. – Editor)

 Nevermind the gold medals, the wine – it appears to be fairly low volume – sold out immediately and the winery has just completed a second bottling of the 2008 vintage to meet demand.

 The 2008 Loma Prieta Pinotage is described as “a vibrant and racy wine, delivering a wild red fruit explosion of lively tropical and berry fruits, mingled with spicy cured meat and a wallop of red licorice”.

 The fruit came from its Amorosa Vineyard in Lodi and a new vineyard has been planted in the Santa Cruz Mountains. This vineyard is at an altitude of 2300 feet (about 800 meters) and was originally planted to Pinot Noir, Merlot and Cabernet. All the Merlot and Cabernet vines have now been grafted to Pinotage.

 Winebusiness.com says there are less than 50 acres of Pinotage planted in all of California. Loma Prieta owner and winemaker Paul Kemp has contracted with several growers to produce additional tonnage for the 2010 vintage.

- Riaan Smit

CUVÉE RESTAURANT, Simonsig Estate, Stellenbosch.

The Indian Summer conditions residents of the Western Cape are currently experiencing are conducive to al fresco wineland dining. So it was that I recently found myself at Simonsig, one of my favourite wine estates, settled on the porch of its Cuvée Restaurant. Not a breath of wind. Views lasted forever, only hindered by the dramatic mountains in the direction of Stellenbosch.

It was better than sitting inside, a space with an excessively camp interior. A wooden bench hanging from the roof, for God’s sake. All that boere barok. One expects Nataniël to come striding across the room selling sosaties.

My dining partners were Dennis Finkelstein and Georgia O’Tief. Apparently I owed them a lunch, and Cuvée was deemed an appropriate debt-cancelling venue.

I ordered the Simonsig pink bubbly to get things going. O’Tief informed me the bubbly was not cold enough, which it wasn’t. The waitress, one of these on-the-job-trained affirmative numbers, also did not afford me the opportunity of checking the wine for TCA or oxidation by pouring the usual taster. So this was not a good start.

I told O’Tief to relax as the wine will chill in the ice-box. The juice itself was devoid of malodourness.

The menu had changed since my last visit. Despite being a place priding itself on its bubblies, there were no oysters to go around this time. Pity: winter oysters are best, and I was keen for some.

The menu offered a salad, some Malay and seafood goodies to start. Mains included fish, venison, soufflé, lamb with some Auntie’s jam, the ubiquitous beef fillet and some gnocchi in a Parisian baked style.

Finkelstein ordered scallops and prawn for starters while I chose the Cape Malay Bobotie Samoosas with the ever-popular and well-known Malmesbury yoghurt, plus a dollop of Muscat Jam. After a bit of egging on and ensuring her how terrifically svelte, slim and pretty she was looking, O’Tief opted for a warm bean salad with goat’s cheese crostini.

Starters were well-received. Scallops sweet and perfectly cooked, although Finkelstein thought the prawn was off and did not eat it. The salad was crunchy with a serious chunk of goat’s milk cheese on the crostini. The samoosas were not as spicy as I liked them, but you can always count on that stunning Malmesbury yoghurt to cut the sweetness.

The next wine was a Kaapse Vonkel. Delicious as ever. I must say, I find the fact that Cuvée only offers Simonsig wines a bit anal. The wines are good. And of a diverse selection. But sitting in the centre of one of the world’s great wine regions it is a pity guests cannot choose, say, Kanonkop Paul Sauer, Hartenberg Shiraz or Le Riche Cabernet.

If you are going to limit the wine-list to your own wines, and own wines only, why the hell should I pay a 100% mark-up?

The mains came. Parisian baked gnocchi for Finkelstein, who is trying to put on some weight after a short struggle with a painful STD. Lamb for the carnivorous O’Tief. Chicken ballontine for moi.

Lamb slow-cooked and luscious, served on a plate of pastry. Finkelstein put the gnocchi away as if there was no tomorrow. It was gooey, creamy and solid. My chicken breast was stuffed with herbs and things and alright.

Desserts included crème brûlée, Malva Pudding and Dutch pancakes, but we decided to skip and head for coffee.

The verdict? Passable, but definitely nothing above average. Seems an awful pity for a topnotch estate to go to all the effort of putting a restaurant in place but the settling for an average degree of execution. Perhaps the real summer will arrive, eventually.

-  Darian Morgan

Image ain’t everything, but it sure helps. The stratospheric success of Hemel-en-Aarde’s relative newcomer Creation would not have happened quite so suddenly if the excellent quality of what is being produced in the vineyards were being poured and sold by a bunch of bleached poppies listening to Heuwels Fantasties while trying to ascertain what the difference is between Cabernet Franc and Paris France.

Creation is a super-slick winery – you expect to slip on Michael Moll’s hair gel on the way to the barrel cellar. It is what restaurant reviewers would call “a well-kept space”, with money-shot views down the valley of vines and gullies, and a bit of real mountain thrown in for good measure. Everything gleams and is in the right place – not a Croc or a well-thumbed copy of You Magazine in sight.

But then, the operation has a slice of Swiss influence thanks to owners JC Martin and Christoph Kaser and their respective spouses. So you would expect everything to be spank and organised.

Thankfully JC has been in South Africa for some time so he is not as boring as most residents of the land of cowbells, Heidi and Third World Dictator safety deposit boxes. He is energetic, chirpy and even humorous at times, which means he can always get a job at the Lausanne Circus if things don’t work out in the South African wine industry.

Much of JC’s ebullient chirpiness, methinks, has to do with his other half, Carolyn. The only daughter of vinous old hand Walther, Carolyn is one of those women who gets things done when others are still thinking of doing it. She is not a coffee shop-cruising, 4×4 driving wine maker’s wife, that is for sure.

Okay, but enough psycho-analysis and down to the wine.

I cruised up to Creation the other day to check out some Pinot Noir, a grape variety that tends to attract some attention in the Hemel-en-Aarde Valley. In fact, it wants to be the region’s signature grape very much. Yet, in the words of every second American rock star, there is a whole lot going on in the area.

Besides the Burgundian influence in the Pinot Noir and Chardonnay grapes, Sauvignon Blanc, Shiraz, Semillon,Viognier, Merlot,  Grenache, Riesling (real), Pinotage and Semillon have – among others – been planted in this little piece of Burgundy-by-the-Sea. And the climate and soils’ are obviously not limited to infusing a bit of intriguing expression in Pinot Noir and Chardonnay.

Creation can be attributed to assisting in ensuring that the Hemel-en-Aarde’s reputation is not going to depend on its Pinot Noir and Chardonnay offering. The winery’s Syrah-Grenache blend, which had a bit of a pong when I found the maiden 2007 vintage, is now showing terrific sunniness and velvety palate weight. Pong has been replaced by perfume and savoury, with a clean-finish minerality that is quite delicious.

The Sauvignon Blanc 2009 is stark, sparse and bone-dry – more Bordeaux than Loire and a welcome dimension in the Cape’s Sauvvie offings.

Okay, okay, I know we were there for Pinot Noir.

Creation’s vineyards are in the Valley’s clay region, so the wines are big. No pussy-footing with washed-out colours and airy, fairy delicateness. The Pinot Noir 2008 and 2009 are not shy with upfront red fruit followed by a burst of spice and marshmallow. Wooding is marvellously understated, but ensures the presence of sturdy tannins, which will no doubt be ironed out with a few years in the bottle.

The wine’s clean, sweet fruit-core is a result of the excellent health of the vines. JC may be a happy-go-lucky type, but vineyard practices are thorough and optimal vine health is non-negotiable in virgin vines that exist in a mother block.

Creation’s first vintage was in 2007, but it is already an established winery not only in the Hemel-en-Aarde Valley, but on the South African vinous landscape. The future’s so bright, shades are called for.

The prospect of hearing a miniature wire-haired Dachshund being crushed beneath my car tyres is daunting. That’s why I always attempt to enter the hallowed grounds of De Grendel Wine Estate with attentive trepidation. A little furry creature tends to roam the expansive grounds and one should be careful not to run the thing down, as numerous signboards warn.

Should wirey connect with my rubber, I do carry an empty wine box in my trunk when visiting De Grendel. If I run over the dog I’ll just bung him in the box, make a u-turn and head for the hills.

Usually though, the box is filled with wine, a dead Dachshund not in sight. (Not yet, that is.) De Grendel is one of my coolest wine places to visit as the enjoyment is not limited to one aspect. I dig the views and I like the people. Carlos Hopkins, one of South Africa’s finest winemakers, is skilled in allowing his infectious likeability to spill-over into the appreciation of the stunning wines he churns out. His assistant, Elzette du Preez, is equally charming and warm, and I always leave De Grendel with the words of American columnist Ernie Pyle resonating in my head: “People, in general, are good.”

I haven’t been to De Grendel for some time, but Elzette dropped me a bottle of the Koetshuis Sauvignon Blanc 2010 the other day. This is De Grendel’s top-end Sauvignon, made from the farm’s grapes, as well as some Darling fruit. The wine is also a result of Carlos’s attempts to suck more out of the grapes: longer skin and lees contact, but everything revolves around capturing the essence of the fruit.

Fresh it is, brimming with steely minerality and a bright keenness from the front-palate to the finish. No fruit salad here: bracing grassiness, quartz stone and sagebrush. Cool, fresh and lingering.

A passion fruit and gooseberry element is there, but only slightly and somewhat suppressed by the wine’s youth. The wine should be splendidly opulent in a few months’ time. Pity about the screw-cap, though. I would hate to see the wine spoilt by a yukkish reductiveness which is so often the case with Sauvignon Blancs that are bottle-matured under screw-cap.

My bet is to get going, grab this wine and enjoy until the end of summer 2011.

But watch out for the dog, please.

South Africa might have put on a successful World Cup, but when it comes to cocking-up wine competitions, we are in a real class of our own. 2010 has already seen its set of clangers, and the season has still to get into full-swing.

First-up was the Old Mutual Trophy boobie with a Zonnebloem wine being stripped of its award because it was not deemed to be a proper Bordeaux-style blend. Get this: You can chuck 15% Chardonnay into a Sauvignon Blanc and enter the Sauvignon Blanc category with legit. But put in a percentage point of Shiraz into a Bordeaux-style blend, and we’ll show you the door old boy.

Recently, then, there was the Woman Winemaker of the Year hoax where the winning winemaker did not, well, make all of the wine all by herself and after some reporting on the issue, she and her bosses spread the love and announced, yes, well, it was a team effort and her R25 000 prize money will be spread around with much love to all concerned who have skill and love and assisted her with making the……

Struth, and we haven’t even hit the Guarantee a Balls-Up Diner’s Club Competition yet!

Nor that dud of all dud competitions, the Michelangelo Wine Awards. Judged by a gaggle of foreign palates ranging from waiters in off-track Copenhagen gay bars to Indian spark-plug salesmen who head-up the Rangoon Rover Wine Society.

A gong, a gong, my kingdom for a gong.

On the newsfront, copy is awash with the Government’s idea of a media tribunal to assist journalists in refraining from being too harsh on public figures and state matters. A better idea would be to create some body overseeing the competence of those organizing local wine shows?

In any event, after copious research and exhaustive newshounding, it has been established that this year’s Terroir Wine Awards went off without a glitch. All kosher on that front. Herewith the dope:

PRESS RELEASE

After a record 239 entries for the fifth annual SA Terroir Wine Awards, three wine estates stood out with two National Certificate winners each, Kaapzicht, Wildekrans and Klein Constantia. Kaapzicht in the Bottelary ward was the top performer with the two national winners, Kaapzicht Steytler Vision 2007 for Top Red Blend and Kaapzicht Merlot 2007 for Top Merlot, as well as two top wines in the Stellenbosch district, Kaapzicht Steytler Pinotage 2007 and Kaapzicht Cabernet Sauvignon 2007 – all from the same vintage.

Wildekrans in the Bot River ward entered National Certificate winners for Top Chenin Blanc, the Wildekrans Chenin Blanc Barrel Select 2009, and Top Sparkling Wine, the Wildekrans Chenin MCC 2008. The National Certificate winners from Klein Constantia in the Constantia ward are the Klein Constantia Cabernet Sauvignon 2008 for Top Cabernet Sauvignon and the Klein Constantia Vin de Constance 2006 for Top Natural Sweet Wine.

The other 2010 National Certificate winners are the Plaisir de Merle Cabernet Franc 2008 (Paarl-Simonsberg ward) for Top Cabernet Franc, Bartinney Chardonnay 2008 (Banghoek ward) for Top Chardonnay, De Grendel Winifred 2009 (Durbanville ward) for Top White Blend, Diemersfontein Carpe Diem Pinotage 2008 (Wellington ward) for Top Pinotage,  Bloemendal Sauvignon Blanc 2009 (Durbanville ward) for Top Sauvignon Blanc, Neethlingshof Malbec 2009 (Stellenbosch estate wine) for Top Malbec, Bon Courage Inkará Shiraz 2008 (Robertson estate wine) for Top Shiraz, Fort Simon Platinum Collection Viognier 2009 (Bottelary ward) for Top Viognier, Signatures of Doolhof Petit Verdot 2008 (Wellington ward) for Top Petit Verdot, David Nieuwoudt Ghost Corner Semillon 2009 (Elim ward) for Top Semillon and Slanghoek Red Muscadel 2009 (Slanghoek ward) for Top Muscat.

For the first time ever a trophy was awarded to the top wine area in South Africa, based on a specific winegrowing terrain that produced most of the wines that went to the final round for a SA Terroir National Certificate, as well as the number of wines that received a National Certificate. The first winner of the Novare Trophy for SA Terroir Top Wine Area is the Wellington ward, with seven finalists and two national winners (Diemersfontein Pinotage and Doolhof Petit Verdot). Welbedacht of Schalk Burger & Sons produced three of the seven national finalists from Wellington.

Ends

I like this part about Wellington coming to the fore. Like the cool dudes out Paardeberg way, Wellington has been making a huge effort to try new varieties and improve vineyard practices.

Diemersfontein and Doolhof have brought two hot brands to the region with luscious, appealing New World wines. And Schalk Burger’s Welbedacht makes some extremely interesting wines in a classic, elegant old style.

A region to watch – great for Lappies and the Terroir team to reaffirm this.

 - Adrian Morgan

If good wine is, as Ernest Hemingway said, the most civilised thing on earth, then Waterford is a wine estate for whom the bell tolls. One of those clanging Catholic bells hammering out a celebratory christening or festivity in a summery European village, the air smelling of coffee, sawdust and lavender.

Look, I’ll go to Waterford for a vertical Old Brown Sherry tasting and leave the place feeling like somebody who has just sipped a line-up of Madeira wines from the 18^th century. The hacienda-like quad, leather furniture, easy-going charm and air of confidence does it for me.

Okay, I have expressed my thoughts on Waterford before, so won’t hamper on the peripherals. Recently I scored an invitation to go and taste some vino, which including the latest release of The Jem. This is Waterford’s flagship, best-of-the-best, although those wishing to trivialise will immediately choose to focus on the R700 price before anything else has been whispered.

So let’s get this out of the way, shall we?

Asking if any South African wine is “worth” R700 is displaying a lack of comprehension about the wine industry I find pitying.

We all know that, at tops, the cost of producing the most super-duperest wine from the lowest yields harvested by sushi-eating virgins in moonlight is going to run at R120 a bottle, max.

This discrepancy in input versus end-price is not unique to the wine industry. Think Cuban cigars. Rolex. Petrus and Romanée Conti. Vuitton leather jock-straps. Organic goats’ milk cheese. The list goes on and on.

The question should rather be does the quality meet brand expectation, and if so, is this what you’d be prepared to pay?

In the case of The Jem I’d say yes. In fact, I have paid more when ordering it whilst dining at a mark-up obsessed establishment with foreign clients wishing to be impressed on the local vinous spectrum.

Why? Because the Waterford brand has impressed me. It is not a brand of great history and tradition, but the lack of this has been made up for with integrity. I have trust and faith in this brand due to the winemakers, the taste of place and in the commitment to and passion for excellence.

Okay, back to The Jem. The third release is the 2006, and like its predecessors – the 2004 and 2005 – it is a motley blend of the best-of-the-best Waterford has to offer. As Kevin Arnold said at the tasting, there is no recipe. The Jem is an ultimate expression of the Estate, and something that will never be replicated – “not even by our neighbours”.

The blend is led by Cabernet Sauvignon (60%) followed by 15% Shiraz. Then you drop down to Malbec and Cabernet Franc, a bit of Mourvèdre and finished with splashes of Sangiovese and Barbera.

It is an enormously exciting wine, because you don’t know what next it’s going to through at you. Cabernet Sauvignon and Francs – my personal favourites and preferences in the blend – give the wine a huge muscularity and brushy, dusty flavours. Shiraz, that tart from the south, brings a bit hot juice to the party, while the Mourvèdre adds an intriguing hint of spice. The Italians’ marble minerality is there, and the whole blend is weighty, gorgeous and enticing.

After 20 months in oak – 1/3 new, 2^nd and 3^rd there is still a bit of wood around, although by no means obtrusive. Tannins are not silky and there is a bit of grip. But by opening The Jem 2004 and 2005, Kevin gave me an insight into what awaits one who invests in this wine.

The 2004 was lean and elegant with a delicious punt of developed Cabernet Franc. In the 2005 version, Merlot was introduced, giving the wine a silky berry spectrum.

How cool is this going to be, when you someday have five, ten vintages of one wine – The Jem – each displaying a variety of different nuances. One wine, an array of personalities through the years?

If its all good, such an experience is priceless.

Like many folk with a similarly sensitive constitution, I tend to be particular about the Sauvignon Blanc I select to chuck down the old bung-hole. Some of the stuff is so acidic that drinking it feels like having a rusty steel vuvuzela shoved down your throat by a Zimbabwean refugee.

The addition of Semillon to cut the rapier-like acidic thrust has always been welcomed. And lately another soothing nuance has cropped up in the Sauvignon Blanc spectrum: Muscat Blanc.

Giorgio Dalla Cia’s Sauvignon Blanc 2009 was the first such model to come my way. As a regular visitor to the Dalla Cia eatery Pan E Vino in Bosman’s Crossing I try most of Giorgio’s booze. The Sauvignon Blanc has usually been what one might describe as ordinarily quaffable. But the 2009 has a delectable honey-melon juiciness, the result of a glug of Muscat and I find it most enticing.

Of course, using Muscat to cast a sensual veil over the leanness of a virginal white wine is not new. I was waltzing through Danie de Wet’s wine library a while back when Danie hauled out a Steen (Chenin) and Muscat wine his dad had made on De Wetshof in the 1970’s. We pulled the cork, and the wine was stunning after almost 40 years in the bottle. Nutty, bracing, fresh.

Petrus de Waal, he of Hermit on the Hill fame, also saw it fit to employ a wash of Muscat in his new label, The White Knight, a very pleasant little wine that is achieving a bit of cult status.

The base of the wine is, of course, Sauvignon Blanc as De Waal is both a disciple of and a preacher on this grape variety. He is, after all, secretary of the Sauvignon Blanc Interest Group, along with the Pinotage Association and Jeff Grier’s band of MCC brewers the only such interest group that actually seems to do something on the subject it represents.

The White Knight’s two-third Sauvignon is fleshed out with one-third Semillon, both from the Stellenbosch region. And then just a splash of Muscat Blanc is added to the mix, although the influence of the splash is huge.

The result is an extremely enjoyable example of polished vinous purity, with the Muscat just adding a bit of sluttish delectability to the mix. No, Muscat is not adding residual sugar or piercing sweetness. The grape elevates the flavours of the Sauvignon Blanc, especially and gives the wine a colourful spiciness and a teasing flash of exotic flesh.

I like this wine because it’s interesting, challenges convention and makes the offerings on the white wine front a bit more exciting. Let’s face it, Sauvignon Blanc is becoming like Cameron Diaz’s acting: everybody likes it at some time or another, but you can’t help thinking that there must be more.

Nataniel

Okay, I’ll let egg head Afrikaans singer Nataniël touch my leg. My arm. Heck, he can even touch my studio.

But Bru, don’t you touch my sosatie.

ShopriteCheckers, the better-and-better store, has been using the Egg Head for some time to promote their edibles. And usually it was easy to avoid Nataniël’s lyrical waxings on, say, a chunk of cottage cheese or such. But the latest Checkers advertisement calls for reaction from anyone concerned at preserving the authenticity of South African cuisine.

In the latest ad, his Eggedness is selling sosaties. Made from grain-fed beef. Splattered in some tomatoey-looking juice. And during the exhibition, viewers are encouraged to buy these lovely, delicious sosaties.

As a figurehead of Afrikaans culture and a TV chef one would have expected Nataniël to inform the Checkers copywriting team that anything on a stick not a sosatie maketh. See, sosatie is a South African dish which is separated from other kebabs due to the fact that is made from lamb or mutton which is marinated in a blend of spices inspired by the traditions of Malay cooking.

No, this is not Sannie Smit, Lienkie Gotswater or a member of the Kappiekommando speaking. The origins of sosatie are internationally recognised. Wikipedia: “For sosaties – from sesate (skewered meat) and sate (spicy sauce) – mutton chunks are marinated overnight in fried onions, chillies, garlic, curry leaves and tamarind juice, then threaded on skewers and either pan-fried or grilled[1]. Of Cape Malay origin, used in Afrikaans.”

But if that is the game ShopriteCheckers and Egg Head are playing, why don’t they just go the whole hog. What about a chocolate flavoured melktert and vegetarian bobotie? Flour-free koeksisters filled with caramel or a Tex-Mex tomato bredie, anybody?

The power wielded by big supermarkets is truly frightening. They can contort tradition, misguide consumers and screw suppliers.

And that is before we’ve reached the wine counter.

Wonder what ShopriteChairman Christo Wiese was doing carrying R7m in cash out of Heathrow. Buying up old recipes, perhaps?

-          Faizel van der Vyver

That man Riaan Smit reports on his last few days’ work in Burgundy and offers some insight into wine industry economics.

I have been asked whether it is worth the effort – and cost – to work in France as a stagiaire (trainee).

 I am on my way back home after spending five weeks of hard, hands-on, vineyard labour at Chateau du Moulin-a-Vent, a Cru Beaujolais in Burgundy. This is my second stint as a trainee in France in 10 months, having worked a harvest at Chateau La Gordonne, in Provence, during September last year.

 Classes started again at Elsenburg on Monday after the long World Cup break. I will be a week late. Frankly, I will enjoy the 30+ degree Celsius, shirtless, days in the vineyards here, rather than being bundled up against the cold, Cape weather, and at Elsenburg.

 Has it been worth it? For me, tout `a fait – absolutely – work and otherwise.

 First, the otherwise: I like the French. I find them pleasant and easy-going, although sometimes quite direct – do not take it for rudeness. I honestly do not know where the myth of French rudeness comes from. My only experience of rudeness has been in a Parisian bistro – by a waiter. That is pretty standard and hardly representative of French people.

Riaan's windmill vineyard.

I also like being in France. I like the place, the beauty of its old worldness. I feel comfortable and safe. Ok, we are talking the platteland here. I sleep with my windows open; I do not look over my shoulder constantly when I walk somewhere at night; I leave the Berlingo open outside the local supermarket; You can leave your cell phone and stuff on the table in the local bar when you go for a pee; I like the disciplined driving on the main auto routes; and I love the side mirror scrapping and chicken-playing on the little back roads (without any sign of road rage – it is simply a way of life).

 I would not mind working here for a year or three when I graduate from Elsenburg end of 2011. My dream job? Working for Distell’s cognac distillery, Bisquit, in France. Well, working anywhere in France at a winery.

 Workwise? The vineyards here are so different from ours in South Africa. The Gamay vines (the only red varietal allowed in the Beaujolais) are normally planted 0,9m apart with a row spacing of 1,2m. That is tight – about 9000 vines per hectare. Special elevated tractors are used with interchangeable implement attachments. A row of vines will pass under the belly of this tractor, with the wheels on either side of a row. One of the back wheels is also hydraulically adjustable to compensate for slight variations in row spacing and to help stability.

 Vines are either “bush vines”, trained in a goblet style, or a rough, free-standing, one-dimensional, two, or three-arm style, with the shoots being held upright with two wires. These wires can be loosened on both sides of a row of vines and tightened to lift shoots to expose the grape bunches to air and light.

 The infrastructure for this method is cheap and rudimentary. But why not train the vines in a double-arm, trellis system? Some of the young vineyards (not many) are being cultivated with this in mind – I saw one beautiful example. It will certainly save manpower. But then, when you plan a parcelle (a block of vines) to grow for the next 50+ years, it does not make sense to invest in expensive infrastructure that will have to be renewed every 10-15 years or so.

 Gamay vines grow liberally – shoots were often taller than my 1,9m height when tucked up – but the basic structure of the vines are much smaller and stunted than in South Africa. This is probably because of the planting density and the – mainly – poor decomposed granite soils. In any case, vines have to be kept fairly low to the ground for the special tractors to operate.

 Lesson learned? You are on thin ice when you preach a “best practice” for growing vines. It is a tough, adaptable plant. Your only objective is to create a system with which you can get the optimal balance between vegetative (leave and shoot) growth and reproductive (grapes) growth, while accounting for soil, aspect, and cultivar factors.

 Incidentally, on a weekend trip down to the Northern Rhone, I marveled at the wooden tripod system (and height) of the Syrah vines on the very steep slopes of the Côte Rotie and also in Crozes Hermitage. I cannot think of any other training method that will work on these slopes. I also saw typical South African style vineyards on the flat lands to the south of Tain l’Hermitage – complete with wide spacing and height.

 Nobody here has even as little as 2 hectares contiguous vines. For example, Chateau du Moulin-a-Vent has about 30 hectares sprinkled among the blocks of other owners in a radius of about 1 km around the Chateau. The reason for this fragmentation is not only ownership due to inheritance over many generations. It is a deliberate ownership system for two reasons:

 You can add complexity to your wine by spreading your blocks over different terroirs, and just as importantly, it protects you against hail damage. Moulin-a-Vent means “mill of the wind” and the wind blows in some fierce thundershowers and, sometimes, hail. When I was away over a weekend chasing the Tour de France, a hail storm damaged about 30% of most bunches in some blocks, while other blocks had no damage at all. Imagine your 30 hectares, neatly fenced of, being hit by this storm. There goes 30% of your production.

 The different ownership of adjacent blocks (there is no boundary fences anywhere) affords a fascinating comparison in soil cultivation practices. Chateau du Moulin-a-Vent is in the second season of a switch to using only plowing to control weeds. Many blocks next to theirs look like deserts – not a weed in sight because of the use of chemical weed controls over many years, and also no ploughing.

Funny little tractor thingy in Burgundy.

 The result in leave density and yield is startling: The Chateau’s vineyards (and those of others who use the same “bio” methods) are so much more balanced in growth – with the size of berries clearly more even and advanced. These grapes have a better chance of attaining full ripeness.

 The hardest, back-breaking work has been to hammer a couple of thousand tuteurs – stakes – into the ground next to newly planted vines. These pegs are not initially for support, but trigger the sensor on an in-and-out plough – essential for weed control. I will return one day to show my kids “my” two blistered-hands vineyards.

 The work has been physical and I am toned and tanned. The four guys I worked with – Pierre, Angelo, Didier, and Carmillo – work incredibly hard. During the growing phase of the vines, they start at 05h30 and work until 17h00, with a lunch break between 12h00 and 13h30. They do not simply make up the hours, they work productively. Each is responsible for just over 7 hectares of vines and maintain all the equipment themselves.

 The winemaker, Guillaume Berthier, works just as hard as his employees (who says he is mad to work so hard, but clearly respects him hugely). As I am writing this – around 18h15 – he just left the yard on one of the tractors to plough a block of vines. (He returned at 20h25.) It is nothing unusual.

Winemaking is not a desk job, nor gazing at barrels through a glass window. Wine gets made out there in the vineyard.

 I vaguely followed the debate around the Financial Mail article on the dire financial state of the South African wine industry. Most wine estates have hordes of workers. I know this is a historical situation and that a fair number of owners view this provision of work as a social responsibility.

 But Government makes more money from the South African wine industry than the industry itself through excise duties, taxes, etc. If this milking of the industry does not stop, then owners should seriously look at reducing the number and increasing productivity of remaining workers.

 The industry keeps the social fabric of countless rural communities together through employment. If the industry goes under, Government looses a goose laying golden eggs, and it will have to deal with social crises in these communities. You need a new model for labour? Come and have a look in France. (And, by the way, the famous French 35-hour work week, is rather liberally applied in the wine industry, it seems.)

 As GT Ferreira said in the FM article, he likes making a profit. So he should – there is nothing wrong with making money. And remember, a profit is what is left over only after a decent return on capital invested has been deducted.

 I have never formally met Mr Ferreira, but in the late 1990s he regularly shopped at my 711 in Uniepark – arriving in a denim jacket in an open-top jeep. He once bought a case of 24 Coke tins and asked for a discount. I gave him 5%. That’s cool – the asking part by one of the richest men in South Africa. Incidentally, I sold a shit-load of wine in that store by completely disregarding liquor laws – just like the countless shebeens did in Idas Valley, barely a kilometer away from my shop.

 I am not making any profit out of my 5 weeks of labour here. I earn just enough to cover my flight ticket and living expenses (very nice accommodation was provided free of charge). I had a Citroen Berlingo van over weekends (with free tanks of diesel provided) and this allowed me to earn precious experiences visiting Burgundy and the Northern Rhone to taste some great wine and to see fabled wine growing appellations.

 I missed my wife, Karin, and two small kids Jana, 4, and Jean, 2, – Sunday evenings desperately so. At least we could see each other on Skype every week.

 I have had a great time and I return home a little fitter in body and soul. Au Revoir!