From ‘Starbucks’ to Stéphane, via Marc
and Neil and a few others
23 January 2007
Of course I
don’t get to go to such functions as the Chenin Challenge awards lunch – who
wants a little widow in black, recalling happier, younger parties and
sniffing sadly into her chenin? But it’s just as well I wasn’t at the latest
one, which was apparently dominated by a vast contingent from the triumphant
KWV, including Sterik de Wet, the great survivor. I might have found myself
seated between him and Graham Howe, another of those who’ve taken me (at
least some of the way) to court, as he was also there.
Another part of
the many KWVites present, I believe, was the plump and charming Bertus
‘Starbucks’ Fourie. I might actually have had a nice chat to him, as he too
has been the object of angry lawsuits. His former employer was
Diemersfontein, a property he put on the map and for whom he made no doubt
large profits, along with all that coffee-flavoured, sweetish pinotage.
Anyway the Sonnenbergs of Diemersfontein seem to think that he shouldn't be
allowed to make wine according to the same recipe for anyone else, and were
taking him to court to stop him doing so. Perhaps the story is a touch more
complicated than I realise (I confess that is not seldom the case), but,
anyway, Diemersfontein have apparently withdrawn their action – just in
time, I’d suggest, to avoid becoming something of an industry laughing
stock.
Anyway, the
Chenin event was apparently the usual great success, despite so many people
from KWV being present. It was marred, perhaps, only by the coarse,
thick-rimmed glasses that the supposedly fancy Tokara restaurant seems to
think suitable for fine wine, and by the fact that the MC, Mike Froud of
Wine mag, didn’t know how to pronounce Val du Chêne, the name of the
winning wine.
One lingering
doubt, perhaps, is why the organisers included Martin Meinert as one of the
judges, given that he is the maker of one of the always most-fancied
entrants. Going by what Xtian Eeedes says in his Gulp! missive, Meinert’s
scoring for his own wine was not discounted, even in the final round, where,
as Xtian himself points out, he must have recognised it. Surely this rather
blots all the boasting about blind tasting and accountant-scrutinised
procedures?
More
triumphs for Marc
In the Wine
mag which gives the competition results, I was pleased to notice that
they’re continuing to develop their great relationship with Marc Kent of
Boekenhoutskloof. In the latest New Releases ratings, firstly the new
Boekenhoutskloof Cab gets no stars at all because it was corked (presumably
the usually punctilious tasting organisers slipped up and didn’t have second
bottles available). Plus, the famous Syrah, which has not had a very happy
record at the hands of Wine panels, all in all, this year scored a
mere three stars…. That’s the same as the previous vintage scored in the
last Shiraz Challenge (so perhaps some consistency is setting in, though I
wouldn’t bet on it), but in conjunction with some of the other ratings in
the New Releases tasting, it does make me wonder if the panel could be
relied on to be correct about the Cab being corked after all.
I believe that
a special selection of Boekenhoutskloof Syrah is going to be one of six
smart wines to be marketed with special William Kentridge-designed labels,
to raise funds for the local staging of his Belgian production of Mozart’s
Zauberflöte. I do wonder if this might be the wine that Marc’s fellow
winemakers on the Cape Winemakers Guild (apparently nearly as good at
recognising quality as the Wine mag panel) have a couple of times
judged to be not good enough to be sold on their auction. Notwithstanding
all this doubt cast by blind tastings, what chances of the wine not being
sold out the instant it appears?
Judge not,
lest ye be judged
I comfort myself sometimes with the thought that it’s fine
for an old widow, saddened by experience and gout, to let her brave smile
occasionally slip a little and to be a little – negative, shall we say. But
when the young and fair seem to lose their sunny outlook on life, it’s a
great pity. I’ve been noticing that Neil Pendock – our Champion of the Plain
Man (and Woman), our Scourge of the Sighted Tasting, our closest
approximation to Malcolm Gluck – has been getting particularly sneery and
bitter of late (and not only about the Platter Guide, which we’ve got only
too used to).
In his latest little piece for the
Sunday Times, for example, Neil not only traduces dear Jancis
Robinson (appropriating the American winewriter Matt Kramer’s sour
misunderstanding of Jancis’s thoughts about the large numbers of
fungiform papillae she has on her tongue), but is also
rather derisive about the new Tasting Academy set up by Michael Fridjhon.
Strangely,
though, Neil himself enrolled to attend the debut Academy class last
week-end. How brave and noble! I exclaimed to one of the other attendees who
told me of this. Not only trying to improve himself (something we must all
ceaselessly strive for), but also subjecting his wine-judging ability to the
public scrutiny of the assessment exam.... But sadly, however, Neil suddenly
claimed an urgent appointment in Johannesburg, and abandoned the class
before the exam. (In fact he left halfway through Gary Jordan’s presentation
on red wines, which was a miffing experience for Gary, I think.)
On the previous
day he’d had to bunk the sparkling wines course, which I think is
particularly regrettable, as he might there have learnt a bit more about
champagne – and realised the howler he’d made in the previous week’s Sunday
Times.... No Neil, ‘dosage’ is not the ‘wodge
of sugar added to precipitate a second fermentation in bottle’. That
wouldn’t have any effect on the final sweetness, would it, as it gets
converted into bubbles and alcohol? Dosage is the sometimes sweetish
‘topping-up liquid’ after the wine has been disgorged. (Do excuse me getting
technical, dear reader, but I do think it is important to help others – just
as important as it is to do some research if one’s knowledge of a subject is
a bit sketchy.)
Vive la
différence!
I became aware recently of one of those strange little
patterns of news items, with a repeated note: a winemaker named Stéphane de
Saint Salvy (Bordeaux’s loss was the Cape’s gain – or not, perhaps). He
first came to the attention of some appalled winelovers some years back with
two pricey wines for Savanha called Sejana
and Naledi. I noted at the time that the dear old Brit critic Mike Broadbent
(turning from his usual kind words and from the thousand year old madeira
that he and Daphne have as a pre-luncheon tipple) described the Sejana as
‘horrible’. I too still remember spitting it out.
Anyway, despite splendid packaging and good connections, the
quality:price ratio of the wines soon ensured they faded out of existence.
The names have lingered on in Platter for a few years, without new releases,
this year’s edition noting that Naledi and Sejana are ‘in temporary
abeyance’. Then, lo and behold, a press release about one of those mergers
or breakups that are never clear to me, included a quote from the new MD of
Spier Wines, Neville Carew, saying that ‘Sejana and Naledi have grown
dramatically over the past three years, both locally and internationally’.
Well, either they’ve been hiding this dramatic growth from us all, or Nev
has got to do a bit of homework about the status of some of the brands he is
no doubt getting very well paid to manage. Or am I naive in expecting a high
truth quotient in a press release?
Anyway, the
original winemaker will not be involved. He moved, you see, to Vrede en Lust
– who realised, in turn, after a year or two, that it was time to, er, part
company. In fact it was only in desultory chit-chat with an old friend with
legal connections that I learned that the departure was less than willing on
Stéphane’s part: he’d actually been sacked – and had then challenged the
mode of his dismissal (and was awarded a few months salary – cheap at the
price, I’d say).
But Stéphane
either has a lot of luck or good French connections, or is just sadly
underrated by the world, because his name cropped up yet again recently – as
the development manager for what is destined to be one of the more
high-profile Cape wine properties: Glenelly, the new Stellenbosch venture
with grand Bordeaux connections. You’ll remember that a few years back Mme
de Lencquesaing had to wriggle out of a bit of bad judgement that they been
led into, when they found that the partner they were to work with was Dave
King, owner of Quoin Rock and – in the opinion or many – someone who bears
much the sort of relationship to tax-paying respectability as Naledi did to
Château Latour.
Have the Glenelly
bosses
landed in the merde once again? Is Stéphane destined to be the winemaker?
Shouldn’t they have gone to the trouble of getting references from former
employers? Have his new employers actually tasted the wines he has
perpetrated over the years? Will they be inflicting more horror on Mike and
Daphne Broadbent?
On a
different matter...