Reading between the wines

Douglas Lawrie offers a jaundiced explanation of the language of wine guides

Glen Alleyn Creek

Until recently, the name Glen Alleyn Creek was unknown in the world of wine [the farm – sans glens or creeks – was called Vaallaagte and produced no wine], but this is about to change [major hype underway]. Upbeat young winemaker Pompies Postma cannot wait to apply the knowledge he acquired on his stint in Chile [how to palm off oxidised whites on the public]. ‘There is a sophisticated new market out there. Buyers will not be fobbed off with astringent, vinegary wines any more’, he maintains [those raised on spirits with sweet mixers thrive on alcohol and sugar, but baulk at acid and tannin].

‘But,’ he warns, ‘while learning from the New World, we have to preserve the uniquely South African character of our wines’ [the owner, who hopes to make a killing in the export market, studiously avoided a typically South African name on the label]. With his 2003 Reserve Chardonnay, Postma has his goal firmly in sight: ‘A wine that is distinctively New World [it is quite unlike any French Chardonnay] without imitating Californian or Aussie styles [less character].’

* * * * Chardonnay Reserve: An array of luscious tropical scents, mingled with hints of citrus and peach [explanation censored] leaps from the glass [borne aloft by 14.5% alcohol] in this 2003 stunner. The winemaker’s use of only free-run juice [he was not fool enough to press the over-cropped, over-ripe grapes] ensures buttery suaveness on the palate [low acid, not much of anything else]. Add the effect of discreet oaking [practically nil – the owner, having splashed out on the showy cellar, was unwilling to invest in good wood] and a suspicion of residual sugar [5 grams per litre, and it tastes much sweeter] and you have Postma’s recipe for ‘the marriage of elegance [blandness] and power [high alcohol]’. A twist in the tail reminds you that this is not a wine to toy with [a lingering bitterness, either from the unbalanced alcohol or from incipient oxidation – probably a bit of both].

Clos Blanchissage

From the bustle of the boardroom to the peace of Piekenierskloof: that is the story of proud owner, German-born entrepreneur Kurt Eiteler. But what persuaded this businessman-turned-vigneron [vigne-rons are much richer than wine farmers or winemakers] to conclude his dalliance with Africa [Congo, Angola, Sierra Leone] here, nestled in the mountains above rustically picturesque Citrusdal? ‘Yours is a country of unlimited opportunity – unlimited!’ [a gullible public – other comments censored]’ he enthuses. ‘Yet look at your wine industry: you feed your consumers cheap, mediocre wines instead of cultivating among them a taste for the rare, the unique, the priceless [people drink what they like instead of being intimidated into following snobbish, expensive fashions]’ What he seeks in wine can be summarised in one word: opulence [yes, indeed]. His oenological philosophy is epitomised by his Syrah de Blanchisseur 2002, produced to the highest standards [exorbitantly priced] from the grapes of a single bushvine vineyard with a miniscule yield [in this old, neglected vineyard, half the vines are dead; the others bear heavily].

* * * * (*) Syrah de Blanchisseur: Issuing a challenge to competitors locally and – dare we say it? – internationally [see the price], this gentle giant [low acid and tannin, massive 15.5% alcohol] exudes class [pretentious packaging]. Vanilla [American oak is cheaper], mocha, cloves, truffles and Sauerbraten [but nothing reminiscent of grapes] vie for dominance on the nose, which is further enhanced by a suggestion of freshly grated Parmesan cheese [the cellar is none too clean]. Soft tannins [low tannin] and unctuous smoothness [high sugar] allow the ripe berry richness of this fruit-driven [in the absence of anything else] wine to impose its sensuous charms [remember the alcohol]. Already enticing in infancy [and don’t hold your breath for the future], with decadent delight [not bad, if you like semi-sweet reds] for designer drinking [when someone else is paying].

Note: The two vignerons are entirely fictive. Any resemblance to Frenchmen-at-heart, dwellers in Tuscan villas, homespun philosophers from the Kalahari, computer-age oenological executives, New Age (or Taoist) advertising tycoons, exponents of extreme sports, or titled and entitled personages is entirely co-incidental. The wines described above were – alas – inspired by real wines: a four-star chardonnay that tasted – down to the alcoholic aftertaste – like fruit juice mixed with vodka, and a one-year-old shiraz (Veritas double gold) so jammy that I had to have a palate cleaner.

• Winelover Douglas Lawrie lectures in theology at the University of the Western Cape