e of the four
back yard of
mental Farm
e. Had they
been typing
different the
d have been.
at might not
honour this
nd of mainly
hiraz, with a
it Verdot – a
a number of
of the Top 3
ion’s second
ompetition. I
ste the wine
and I’m a bit
to put down
nreasonable.
finesse”, one
l. The heavywinemakers
they touch
eat pinotage,
hat it isn’t, by
e? An iconic
it’s due, but
ce. I recently
98. Bottles I
nium change,
a trip down
from Pretoria in the back of my little GTi, my
recently departed dad behind its wheel, himself
mortified by having to transport so much alcohol,
and the dry throats and long fingers of those who
share my place of living. There’s something about
Kanonkop Pinotage I’ve never found in any other
wine. Something about the Simonsberg terroir,
something powdery and yeasty, but in a seamless
and a not at all overbearing way, something solid
and dark, something moulded by time, yet fresh as
the day it was bottled. Before heading out to the
farm I wrote “You form a friendship with a wine.
It needn’t always be sophisticated or powerful or
right. But you come to trust it. Friendship is about
returning to.” In part, this is a rationale against
endless blind wine tasting championships and its
sure influence on wine styles; but it might also
be not turning a blind eye, which I deplore, but
cultivating a broader acceptance, something which
incorporates time and tradition in its judgements,
not to soften but to hone and educate them about
who we are as humans and how this influences
both our greatest and smallest achievements.
Arriving at Kanonkop never leaves one without
impressing something, in a very specific way.
The wines were impressive, as always. Yet, finally
tasting the two new bottlings left me with a sense
of sadness; a sense of something departed, of
something wanting to keep up with that which
should rather follow. But only time will tell.
(de)
stemming
the purple tide