Cinders and her pals at the ball 16 January 2007

Some fine chenins and other interesting whites noted byTim James in a
recent Noseweek article

Nothing scandalous this month except some of the prices - and the opinionatedness of a columnist giving advice, following Mr Nose’s suggestion that I should actually try writing about wine for a change. White wine is the subject then, then: something to cool and console us over the hot holiday season.

Sauvignon blanc gets plenty of attention, so if I merely reveal the Cape’s best example, we can move on to less popular varieties. The best? Well, my best, anyway: the maiden vintage (2005) of Oak Valley’s Mountain Reserve – a wine which convinces me that sauvignon can occasionally produce something really fine. There might even be a little still available from the Elgin Valley estate for R100 – pricey, but better value than many examples at R75, which, horrifyingly, seems not uncommonly asked for ambitious sauvignons these days.

In the bad old days, when winewriters were pushed to discuss chenin blanc, the first cliché we reached for was ‘the Cinderella variety’. A tired but appropriate image, for chenin seldom glittered at the party, but did much of the work, often incognito, making everything from brandy to thin, tasteless, cheaply produced ‘steen’. Nowadays, not only has Cinders made it to the ball, but she seems to be there all over the place in a range of personas, from the charming ingénue (crisp, fresh, simply tasty) to the grand duchess or the expensively overdressed tart (lots of oak and alcohol and more than a little sugar) in outfits designed to appeal to the harried and hurried courtiers charged with selecting the Prince’s consort.

There are now good chenins across the range. At the (expensive) top are excellent examples of the powerfully rich, wooded kind: new label De Morgenzon, Rudera Robusto, Jean Daneel Signature, Ken Forrester FMC are among the best. (Forrester is one of the great chenin impresarios, by the way: from the Noble Late Harvest called simply T, down to the great value cheapie called Petit Chenin, the name promises quality). More elegantly restrained than the blockbusters is the celebrated Spier Private Collection Chenin (R65).

For around R36 the Fleur du Cap version is very good value: full-bodied, full-flavoured, effectively but lightly wooded; unpretentiously delicious as well as characterful. And at half that price, still sweetly demure and remembering her scorned and unappreciated Cinderella days, chenin from Perdeberg Winery is justly renowned – and obligingly available in equally satisfying (depending on your tastes) dry and off-dry versions, with a richer and more concentrated Reserve available too.

Interestingly, in the decade-plus that chenin has been gaining acceptance in grand circles, and being accorded the fancy treatment from viticulturists, winemakers and label designers that was previously lavished on chardonnay, something different has been happening to the more augustly reputed grape. Not to the smart versions, which are generally improving all the time, but there is now a welcome cluster of chardonnays with simpler, more unassuming charm. They are not fermented or matured in wooden barrels, so the purity of the citrusy chardonnay fruit stands out unobscured (almost unrecognisable to those who’ve been persuaded over the years that the smell of oak is the smell of chardonnay). Some of these unoaked chardonnays are lovely, while more easy-going than their classy relatives: fine for a picnic as well as a white-tablecloth meal. De Wetshof’s Bon Vallon was the pioneer of the style in the Cape and remains dependably drinkable, but my favourite is the Constantia Uitsig – not cheap at R50 from the farm, but worth every cent, and  I’m almost prepared to guarantee that you will enjoy it, especially as it comes with a screwcap rather than a cork, like all of Uitsig’s whites, so that you can be sure it’ll be fresh and pristine when you open it.

Also under screwcap around the same price are two superb and great value wines from Paul Cluver Estate in the cool, appley Elgin Valley. Everyone should drink a good Gewürztraminer occasionally (though not too often, or you get bored and blasé), and this is a very good and beautifully poised one, its seriousness packed with rosepetal delight. The Cluver Weisser Riesling you could have twice a week for a year, if you were lucky, and not get bored – it’s as far as we get from the insipid, usurping variety that Theuniskraal and Nederburg are still allowed to miscall Riesling. Now there’s a scandal to return to one day; the protection of a grape that should be sent back to chenin’s old place of sooty drudgery.

• This article first appeared in Noseweek, 'South Africa's unique investigative magazine'