The Eben & Adi Show at yesterday’s Swartland Revolution in Riebeek-Kasteel was a big tent affair like those East Rand travelling religious revival meetings from the eighties with miracles performed amid much happy clapping. Could Eben Sadie be the Pastor Ray McCauley de nos jours? The Rhema religious revivalist of rustic reds, as mighty Mr. Min might alliterate? Heck the first three letters of Ray’s surname, MCC, are the acronym for SA sparkling wine. Which, this being a Swartland Revolution, was replaced by corked Bollinger Champagne poured by Adi’s winemaker, jivey Jasper Wickens, in keep-as-a-momento Riedel crystal flutes after the E&AS.

Eben on a roll

Jan van Riebeeck’s scout, Pieter Cruythoff, came to me in a dream last night, complaining in 17th century Dutch that his namesake fizz from Riebeek Cellars, made 500m from the Royal Hotel, had been hijacked while one wonders why Reuben Riffel – celebrity chef at Friday night’s gourmet braai – even bothers to make a range of African stemware at Ngwenya Glass in Swaziland if it’s to be Riedel rather than Riffel in Riebeek. Something for the central committee of the Gouda Book Club to consider when the motion is proposed “has the Swartland been hijacked by cultural carpetbaggers?” Certainly Anton Espost and his funky Cuban red star sensibility were nice design elements at the New Revolution.

Although a Tennessee Williams deep south “drop kick me Jesus through the goalposts of life” approach might be a more fertile soil to till, with mint juleps all round. Eben certainly looked possessed as he cart wheeled across the floor, his now grubby hands offset strikingly against the Omo white shirt and Antonio Banderas chest hair rug. His sermon was scattered with Biblical allusions (“in summer, Riebeek is the Gates of Hell”) and you needed true faith to believe some of his message like “the wines of Stéphane Ogier last night were perfect.” Oops, I scored the reduced ’99 Côte-Rôti, 14/20.

But tasting a line-up of four 2010 Shiraz components grown on granite, schist, clay and a blend of the first three, silenced any Doubting Thomases. Were these the most exciting expressions of Swartland terroir tasted to date? Even if the Paardeberg one was from the Paarl side of the mountain and sensu stricto, not a Swartland wine? Terroirists worry about this kind of thing, so standby for a Voor-Paardeberg Counter Revolution, or Poor-Vaarteberg/Vaaderberg Counter Revolution as it will no doubt be reported by Time magazine and Business Day. Julian Johnson as the Trotsky of Terroir, dodging ice picks wielded by the Stalins of the Swartland, certainly has traction.

Meanwhile my own Real Men Ferment Wild tasting fell a little flat when the sound guy disappeared after lunch with the mike for another gig. Confirming that while Jasper is a most excellent dancer and his choice of music (Bob Dylan singing Hurricane) is non-pareil, DO NOT LET HIM ORGANIZE THE SOUND SYSTEM.

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