The Stellenbosch Wine Route | Africa Travel Newsletter

by Marco Monteiro-Silva, 1 October 2006

Perhaps it's the casual sophistication that comes with sharing a bottle of Merlot while experimenting with a new recipe. Maybe it's the very immediate, very sensory experience as your lips pucker from the tight tannins in a dry white, but for some reason I got it into my head last week that my calling was to become a wine aficionado. Taking the day off work, I headed into the winelands...

A Wednesday in the winelands

Three quarters of an hour outside Cape Town there is a time portal. Once you pass through it, the city becomes a vague memory; manicured hills dominate the countryside, lying lazily about like plump and voluptuous colonial nobility perspiring in the exotic African heat.

I had toured the wine route often during my student years with the not-so-honorable intention of going on a cheap drunk. The average tasting fee is R15 and there is no charge if you purchase wine. This time I was entrusted with a far nobler charge: to share the Stellenbosch wine experience with the world.

I had done my homework. I had a written itinerary. My goal of visiting nine wine farms in one day was ambitious, but I had every intention of pressing as much juice from the experience as possible.

Sparkling hospitality

We began the day by visiting Villiera, a top producer of South Africa's Cap Classique. Sparkling wine is commonly and usually incorrectly referred to as Champagne - a title that is legally protected by international trademark law dating back to 1891, and is bestowed exclusively on sparkling wine produced in the Champagne region of France.

Cape sparkling wines made in the classic method of making champagne (mehode champenoise), are called methode cap classique. By this expensive and labor-intensive process, wines undergo a second fermentation while in the bottle. The result is the carbonation necessary for the fine bubbles found in a bottle of bubbly.

We were given a guided tour of Villiera by Cathy Brewer cellarmaster Jeff Grier's daughter. Hospitality seems to flow just as sweetly as the wine in these parts, and Cathy offered up, not only an intimate tour of the environmentally friendly wine estate, but some of the most amazing wine available.

Making sense of sensations at Villiera

Sitting in the tasting courtyard we were treated to a range of Villiera's finest. Bottle after bottle was opened for us, and with a few newly-learned skills, we took the challenge of giving voice to the array of sensations overpowering our senses.

Sitting in the sunshine, I had my nose buried deep in a glass of 2003 Brut Natural Chardonnay (Cap Classique), trying to place the distinct impression on the nose, then palate.

I swirled it around my mouth, allowing the wine to assault each of the four sensory areas of the tongue. I recited my tasting guidelines, trying to place the mouthfeel:

"Rear picks up bitterness, sides read sour, so do forward to middle, with the tip of tongue left for sweetness."

I sucked air through my teeth, allowing the air to further evoke the sensations on my palate.

I put the glass down, slightly self conscious at the attention I was getting from a large group of tourists sitting at a table across from us. After spitting the wine into a copper spittoon, I picked up a pencil and tried my best to unravel the structure of this vintage, trying to determine the complexity.

Was there harmony between fruit, wood and acid? Did the tannins coating my mouth reveal pre-maturity, or were they comfortably astringent? All these new and formal critique terms swum around my head, making me feel a little dizzy.

Barry Manilow elegant

"Now folks, please bear in mind when scoring a wine..."

I eavesdropped on the informal lecture being administered to the group of foreigners by their private guide, hoping to gather some insight.

"...don't call it shit. I have to look these folks in the eye when I return. We'll just call it elegant. If it's really crap, then we say Barry Manilow elegant."

I relaxed, having just learned my first real lesson of wine-tasting: there is no wrong and right, only preference and varying degrees of pompousness.

Although the feeling of celebration was as tangible as the fine mousse of bubbles on my tongue, and the sun was warm and the shade under the large trees inviting, it was time to leave. Somehow, our itinerary had already been bamboozled. It was twelve in the afternoon: we had been at Villiera for almost three hours.

Medicine, wood, and soya at Hartenberg

At the Hartenberg estate, we flopped down at a large table in the tasting room. "We've come for your red" I said with an earnest expression on my face. To begin, the young man in charge of the tasting room brought us their 2003 Cabernet Sauvignon and their 2003 Merlot.

Perhaps egged on by my pencil and notebook, he also brought us an aroma wheel. This graph answered some pressing questions for me. Aware of the primary tastes - woody, spicy, cooked, floral, fresh - I tracked down a few elusive sensations I had been unable to articulate at Villiera.

The medicinal aroma I had picked up was in fact a type of woodiness. My companion's insistence that she could taste soya in a glass of the Hartenberg Cabernet Sauvignon/Shiraz 2003, although denied by the opinionated young man, was shown to be legitimate by the wheel.

In hushed whispers we thought up descriptions as the pushy host fetched a bottle of the Hartenberg flagship Shiraz 2003 - an intensely dark and concentrated vintage as overpowering as he was. Shiraz, like some people's company, is not always easy to swallow.

After the spicy and peppery Hartenberg Shiraz our bellies were beginning to feel slightly raw, so we set off to picnic at Spier.

Ducks, eagles and cheetahs at Spier

One of the more commercial wine estates, Spier is not a must for the serious wine connoisseur, but it still offers a lovely lunch experience. We loaded up a basket with fresh bread, meats and cheeses from their deli, including a delicious piece of blueberry and almond nougat, and headed off to find a quiet spot near the lake.

The picnic was a welcome rest. Stuffing ourselves contently, we tried not to worry about the intimidating ducks that refused to be scared off. Then we paid a quick visit to the cheetah and eagle sanctuaries on the estate. Where else in the world can you visit cheetahs and eagles while munching blueberry nougat and drinking wine?

A Chardonnay odyssey at Delheim

After lunch, it was time to embark on the most important item on our itinerary: procuring a bottle of a friend's favourite wine from the Delheim estate, located on the Greater Simonsberg wine route.

The drive to Delheim on a sunny spring day can be likened to drinking a good bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. The scent of wildflowers hangs softly in the air, the smell of cut grass and straw wafts through the car-windows. The air is light and cool and its clarity permeates the eyes and nose. There is little resistance and every movement towards the finish is gentle and natural.

There is a harmony in driving around the winelands that viniculturists would do well to attempt to bottle - but then again, perhaps they already have.

At Delheim, I was treated to the news that I had just bought the two very last bottles of the Delheim Chardonnay Sur Lie 2005. Euphoria set in as I shut the trunk of my car.

I had obtained my first trophy, and the fact that other mere mortals could no longer make this journey and achieve what I have, enveloped me in the sense of superiority and a job well done. I was one step closer to aficionado status.

Epiphany at Thelema

It was an Arundale Shiraz 2004 vintage on the Thelema estate that finally got me there, however.

After careful consideration, I remarked: "The alcohol content in this must be at least two percent higher than average."

Impressed, the young lady checked the bottle and gave me a smirk-laden nod. "Fifteen percent," she said.

The heat on the palate gave it away. My first authorative tasting remark was correct! The accompanying glory would have lasted longer if my partner hadn't overshadowed me with her super-human power of smell.

She accurately picked up eucalyptus, blackcurrant, and dark chocolate in a tasting of a Thelema Cabernet Sauvignon 2004 called 'the Mint '. A wine about which all I could say was "hmm, mint".

Worn down by the dozens of tastings, my senses were beginning to fail. It was four in the afternoon, and the day's decadence had resulted in the loss of all sensation in my nose and mouth.

The secret of timing at Tokara

Retiring my notebook for the day, we decided to pop in for a final celebratory tasting at the Tokara estate, the luxurious next-door-neighbour to Thelema. My first visit to Tokara, years ago, had left me in awe, the way an adolescent boy stares open mouthed at a beautiful girl walking along the beach.

This time I found that not only had Tokara not aged a day, but that I was now old enough to share a drink with her. We tasted a few wines and chatted to the young women helping us, when a single Sauvignon Blanc surprised me.

Peaches and flowers bubbled on my tongue, and without hesitation I bought a bottle of the Zondernaam Sauvignon Blanc 2006. I had found a wine which I could see myself opening on just the right summer afternoon, with just the right company and food.

My transformation was complete. I had become someone who would punctuate and enrich specific moments of my life with wine.

As we watched the sunset over the vineyard, I finally understood. Timing is everything when it comes to wine, whether creating or devouring. Every bottle carries with it the promise and purpose of being cultivated, made, and opened at just the right time. The fulfillment of that promise is entirely up to you.

Experience this for yourself

When touring the Stellenbosch wine route, I can heartily recommend staying at River Manor, where we finally rested our slightly drunken limbs.

It's definitely the most rejuvenating accommodation available in the small town of Stellenbosch. A luxurious bath, massages at the Spa and lounging around in front of the fireplace in the evening put the cherry on the perfect day.