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A small revolution 14 November 2006

Is there sign of a turn to unwooded wines? Angela Lloyd hopes so

 

Revolutions often start slow and small, sometimes they're hardly recognised as such until the revolution is a fait accompli, others are detected almost before they start – simply because their time has come.

I hope I'm not being overly optimistic here by venturing that the time has come for unwooded wines, both white and red, at the upper end of the quality spectrum. Unwooded means not just no oak barrels, but no staves or chips. (Believe it or not, there are winemakers who claim their wines are unwooded when they have been subjected to oak influence other than barrels – something that's clear in the tasting.)

Chardonnay is currently among the most successful of wines usually associated with oak but gaining widespread support in unoaked versions. This is probably hastened both by more mature vines yielding more characterful fruit and by winelovers becoming tired of those heavily oaked, buttery rich monsters generously laced with alcohol and residual sweetness, where a sip is more than enough.

Constantia Uitsig, Bouchard-Finlayson and Springfield immediately come to mind as unwooded league-leaders; all three, thoroughly satisfying and far more food compatible than many (over) oaked versions:  another reason the style is gaining acceptance. There's an interesting knock-on effect the success of their unwooded chardonnays has had on Constantia Uitsig and Bouchard Finlayson's Kaaimansgat wooded wines. The former has culled its oaked Chardonnay Reserve from the range, leaving the semillon and Constantia white blend to well carry the flag for barrelled flag, while Peter Finlayson has slashed the oaking in his Kaaimansgat Chardonnay by half. The result here is entirely beneficial, providing elegance, greater freshness, a more nuanced profile and (dare I suggest it?) a clearer sense of place.

Reds too

It’s been said that the first duty of port is to be red, and it seems that, for most, the first duty of  red wine is to be oaked. But too often oaking covers up for an insufficiency of fruit – something that becomes much more apparent with some years in the bottle. More's the pity when there's delicious, pure, virus-free fruit to be had all over the winelands these days.

Simonsig's Pinotage is a longtime standard bearer for good unoaked reds; it pre-dates by many years Johan Malan and team's excellent, oaked Redhill. Avondale has recently ventured into oak-free cabernet franc, made for the US market, but also available from the farm. A pre-bottling sip of the infant 2006 with its exuberant spicy, leafy fragrance, flavours and firm backbone suggests that once in the bottle, it will show great character and individuality. No muddying effect of oak needed here.

Ayama is property in the up and coming Voor Paardeberg area, with three 2005 reds in its four-wine range, and all are unwooded. The structure and richness of fruit in the trio – cabernet, merlot and shiraz – refute the necessity of oak. This may partially account for the lower selling price (all three are around R30), but the quality suggests a bigger price tag. Their maturation ability is untested, but they are certainly not one-night wonders.

In case there is any doubt that unadorned reds cannot age, those with long memories might recall that the late Cyril Back – Charles Back's father - never had a barrel of any sort in the Fairview cellar. His 1974 shiraz remains a beacon from that wonderful vintage.

Time will tell if my hunch is correct, but if it is and we see more circumspect use of oak and some quality, unoaked wines, here is a small and welcome revolution in the making.

 

 

COMMENT

From Chris Williams, winemaker at Meerlust and The Foundry:
It was recently my very good fortune to taste (and drink) the 1981 L'Evangile from Pomerol, out of 3 litre bottles no less. I was completely seduced by the purity, complexity and absolute deliciousness of this wine. Imagine my surprise when [British importer] Roy Richards, my host for the evening, told me that the wine had never been near any oak whatsoever: it was vinified and matured in concrete vats. The wine was 25 years old and could easily have held for another decade. Co-incidentally, I worked in Pomerol in 1997 for consultant-guru Michel Rolland. We went to L'Evangile on a consultancy visit and the cellar was packed with creamy white, fragrant French oak. Times had obviously changed. The wine was superb, but in a very different way. It seems we learn and forget in cycles. Certainly a fair portion of my own Foundry Syrah 2006 is maturing in steel, without the benefit of casks. Whether I will deem it good enough for the final blend remains to be seen.