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“Much more forgiving than the Simonsberg” is how Paardebosch winemaker Marius Malan (below) describes the fruit of the Siebritskloof, the funky new ward of the Paardeberg. And he should know after making many vintages for Slaley in that parish. “Swartland flavours are far more concentrated than Stellenbosch. Take Sauvignon Blanc for example. On the Simonsberg you have a 48 hour window before you lose your pyrazines. The Paardeberg is much more robust.” Which could explain why so many Stellenbosch winemakers buy Lammershoek grapes. Even if they forget to mention it on the label.
The first thing that jumped out and hit me between the nostrils from a glass of Beanotage 2010, Marius Malan’s attempt at the wildly popular coffee/mocha style of Pinotage, was vanilla. Which comes as no surprise, as toasted oak staves rich in vanillin define this popular style.
Marius Malan @ Bizerca last month
The hugely fashionable Siebritskloof ward in the exciting Swartland appellation is home to a new winemaking phenomenon: Marius Malan, born on the Paardeberg and previously winemaker at Slaley on the Simonsberg, ably assisted by Zimbabwe-born Perkins who tosses three hundred litre barrels around like a strongman at a circus.
Marius astride his Meerlust barrels
“Excuse me, but is anyone picking up caoutchouc brûlé in wine #7?” is a great line to pull out while judging the ABSA Top Ten Pinotage Competition. What, you don’t speak French? What kind of wine judge are you, if the language of Carla-Bruni Sarkozy’s adopted nation leaves you cold? The first lady of France, who headlined at a New York concert to celebrate Nelson Mandela’s 91st birthday in June last year, boasts “Carla Gilberta Bruni Tedeschi” on her birth certificate. As heir to the Pirelli tyre fortune, she should know all about rubber and the burnt rubber character some UK wine journos pick up in SA reds.
Meanwhile “Tedeschi” is Italian for “Germans” and in the language of Goethe, the word for that notorious burnt rubber aroma/flavour of SA reds is “gummi” according to Champagne boffin Tom Stevenson writing on www.wine-pages.com where he concludes it is “Almost always a bad mercaptan fault.”
The bombshell that this is the last weekend of the Weekender evoked the usual progression of emotions running the gamut from D to D: dismay, disgust, despair. From the B-(Bacchanalian) perspective, it’s yet another nail in the coffin of wine hackery with the loss of yet another wine column although agile Michael Fridjhon has a fallback slot on Business Day. But the loss of Penny Haw’s wine features (worth the cover price alone) is a tragedy, as no other organ covers her angles.
It was hardly a surprise, as freelance rates had been cut twice recently and the newspaper even took a stand at WineX, although I never did get to taste whatever they were pouring. The Weekender demise opens up the field for the imported Weekend FT, after which it was modeled. Given the amount the Pundit of the Pink Paper, Jancis Robinson, has been writing about SA wine of late, producers cannot complain. This weekend is a case in point with SA getting the Manolo Blahnik for crazy geographic labeling legislation. Although someone should tell JR that “the very hottest, most northerly vineyards” of SA are in the Northern, not Western, Cape and yes, they do export wine (and in large volumes) – to China, for example.
Stop press: A letter to the editor of the FT has been dispatched from the Groot Gariep.
Letter to the FT editor from the Groot Gariep
Apart from facts, the main problem with the W-FT is price, although former gallerist Waren Siebrits tells me of a petrol station in Illovo that sells it at half-price. Although this could be because the attendants think it’s the gay version of the Weekender, which if the case, means that Warren’s price will be up next week.
For those more visual than verbal, lunch at Silver in Kloof Street is to be recommended, as Fashion TV on the walls makes up for the dearth of reading material. Asian (Chinese/Sushi) restaurant cum clothing store cum showcase of fashion designer Xia Xuan Xu from the People’s Republic by way of Killarney, Friday nights are cocktail nights for the young and beautiful (“which counts you out” as the conceited but cute waitron told me yesterday). General Manager with the looks of a Calvin Klein underwear model, Michael Morris, tells me he’s keen on promoting food and wine evenings. “We had a Rietvallei evening and it was a great success” which must have been an initiative of marketing manager Colyn “the leg” Truter. If fact if you buy the Sushi Platter, you get a free bottle of Rietvallei Rosé.
Michael, Xia Xuan and Marius Malan from Slaley
“Do you think you’re Tim James?” shrieked Fiona McDonald when she saw me on Saturday at the annual potjiekos cook-off between the Simonsberg and the Paardeberg, held this year on Vondeling in the Voor-Paardeberg. The appellation nobody’s every heard of as they don’t enter wine competitions, according to French fundi Michel Bettane. Not that they’re being standoffish: the T-shirt on the back of a young Robert Downey Jr. look-alike Vondeling winemaker Matthew Copeland offered “are you ready for a Vondel (pronounced fondle)?” with more than a few Paardeberg poppies blushing in the affirmative.
Shod in my finest Havaianas (complete with mini Brazilian flag) bought in Sao Paulo, Fi was referring to the Cape Wine Master whose feet are the kind only the most desperate of Port producers (or those desperate for a sympathetic sighted Platter rating) would allow to tread grapes in their lagares.
Fi flees in terror from my Havaianas
Lunch at Bar Bar Black Sheep in Riebeek Kasteel yesterday was like an entry in the journal of Denton Welch: “we both decide not to have soup. The tongue comes. It is good, soft, sweet-tasting. There is Russian salad, beetroot, lettuce, potato. Edith Sitwell has no lettuce. We begin to eat hungrily. I am like Byron over women’s mouths for a moment, not being able quite to reconcile beetroot, tongue, potato, with the mouth of the person who I have only associated before with poems in books. I had never thought of things going in, only coming out; dividing body from soul.”
Aníbal, Mynhardt and Marius
Motorbike Marius came to lunch yesterday and in his rucksack brought along an amazing range of four wines which he sells for R25 each. Called VIOR from the first and last two letters of VIno and amOR: Spanish for wine and love (he explains), a Francophone brand developer might have abbreviated as AMIN – AMateur du vIN – although Idi died a devout Moslem in a Saudi Arabian hospital bed and besides, just how African do you really want your brand to be?
Alan Pick is happy with Afrique du Sud which is enough to get his Pick’s Pick brand on the top left of supermarket facings, ahead of Argentina and Australia, although I should be even more on the left wing when Lemoenfontein (Afrika Borwa) hits the facings later this year.
