In search of wines past: Part 1 8 January 2007

Stories and bottles of ten years back (including a truly fine wine),
found by a reminiscent Angela Lloyd

Something had to give. The accumulation of magazines, defunct press releases, newsletters and other assorted bits of paper threatened a takeover of my office. A ruthless sort-out was demanded; the less hectic end of the year is the moment to get stuck in and throw out.

But you know what happens: start sifting through old stuff and one soon gets sidetracked by reminiscences.

Uva Mira released its first wine, a 1996 Chardonnay (ha! how many thought this Helderberg property appeared on the horizon only with its celebrated 2004 Chardonnay and just-released flagship red blend?); Mulderbosch Sauvignon Blanc 1997 cost R23, Thelema Chardonnay 1996 R29; there was the KWV and the bogus champagne scandal (a story never fully uncovered and one reason a cloud of distrust still hangs over this giant's head).

And there was Len Evans's Theory of Capacity quoted in Jeremy Olivier's biography, Evans on Earth:

‘To make the most of the time left to you, you must start by calculating your total future capacity. One bottle a day is 365 bottles a year [Evans didn't appear to account for leap years]. If your life expectancy is thirty years, there are only 10 000 odd bottles ahead of you.’

A sage reminder of the importance of quality drinking – and by all accounts Evans lived up to his principles in the then nine years left to him.

The year of distraction is 1997, the above random selection of sidetracking tidbits from Wine magazine (this was two years BG – before Grape!). 1997 also signalled the first Michael Fridjhon Wine Experience, Michelangelo Awards and Trillenium, the last described as A Century of Cabernets, a cask of cabernet from 100 top Cape cabernet producers, blended by the intrepid Martin Meinert and launched with much hype two years later to celebrate the Millennium. (Hmm, I wonder how time has dealt with that wine?)

Vintage 1997

For 1997 was a vintage memorable for its difference – a sort of European 2003 in reverse – a cool, wet lead-in with the now-familiar downy mildew damage, followed by a long, slow and very late harvest due to the cool weather. Nerves of steel were demanded; some had them, others didn't. Needless to say, the results were mixed. But one wine stands out, not only defining the best of the vintage but remaining an awesome benchmark to this day.

My first taste of Boekenhoutskloof Syrah 1997 remains as vivid as the wine is distinctive. I was evaluating this new producer for the 1998 edition of Platter. Marc Kent had brought a selection of small plastic bottles; we sat at the dining room table to discuss and sample the contents (those being times we still tasted for the Guide with the winemaker).

Even as a four-month old there was no doubt his Syrah was a remarkable wine, capturing all the best a cool ripening period can offer and with echoes of the northern Rhône. A rare Platter five star award was to feature, among other accolades, and its quality prompted a fellow winemaker, quoted in Platter, to remark: ‘I'd be terrified if I'd made this wine. How do you repeat this quality under the same label?’ Added poignancy was that it was a one off, the Somerset West vineyard subsequently being uprooted to make way for business development. Could Marc have repeated that triumph? We'll never know: subsequent vintages have all originated from a single, Wellington vineyard.

There was little difficulty in choosing one of our last bottles to accompany Christmas dinner, a rare treat of a leg of lamb. Approaching its tenth birthday, the Syrah's colour is still flush with life, its bouquet still rivets the senses with flashes of white pepper, spice and violets, all still so incredibly fresh. If there is a touch less flesh, the equilibrium remains perfect, lightness of touch contrasted by concentration and length of flavour. Like all great wines it is of lasting memory rather than transient sensation.

I seem to remember Marc saying that, thanks to a less than ideal chemistry, it had no right to stay any course. Well, it's stayed ten years with no signs of keeling over; anyone lucky enough to have a few bottles should enjoy them with something (and someone!) really special.

Local red wines of any worth are, of course, meant to go ten years; dry white wines have never had such expectations placed upon them. But can they? It's a challenge that a few ten year old whites in our cellar will be up against over the coming weeks.