Page 28 – winemag

The 41st Cape Winemakers Guild (CWG) Auction, held this past Friday and Saturday, achieved record sales of R17 215 000. A total of 1 912 cases (6 x 750ml) were sold, at an average price of R1 501 per bottle.

By comparison, the 2024 auction realised R16 645 500 for 2 118 cases, averaging R1 309 per bottle – a smaller volume but a notable year-on-year increase in price, with the absence of longtime headline sponsor Nedbank seemingly having little impact on the outcome.

This year’s auction attracted 258 registered bidders from 13 countries, with 87 successful buyers. South African bidders accounted for 64% of sales, followed by the UK (18%).

Bordeaux Index (UK) was the top buyer for the third consecutive year, followed by Southern Sun Hotels, Grootbos Private Nature Reserve, and SA Wineimport (Denmark), with the remainder purchased by both local and international private collectors.

Guild members and member properties also raised an additional R671 400 for the CWG Protégé Programme through the sale of wine donations and exclusive wine-related experiences.

When Piekenierskloof growers recently held an internal tasting of 12 current-release Grenache wines from the ward, the Carel van Zyl 2024 from the eponymous cellar came out on top – ahead of heavyweights such as Sadie Family Wines Soldaat 2024 and SavageThief in the Night.

Does it live up to this billing? The grapes come from a vineyard planted in 1973. Winemaking involved 30% whole-bunch fermentation, followed by eight months’ maturation in older 500-litre barrels. The nose shows red and black berries, fynbos, lavender and spice, while the palate balances fruit density with bright acidity and grippy but not aggressive tannins. A convincing effort – deftly made, with a clear sense of place. Price: R500 a bottle.

The standard-label Grenache Noir 2023 also offers excellent quality relative to price – it rated 91 points in the Minority Report earlier this year and costs R180 a bottle.

These days I find that there’s little more interesting in the world of wine than bumping around vineyard roads (in this case in a robust little electric vehicle), up and down hills, driven by a knowledgeable and fully engaged viticulturist who stops frequently to point out and explain the intricacies as well as the larger patterns of his work.

It can only help if it’s a beautiful spring day (most of the vines – but not yet the restful cabernet – offering little fistfuls of white-green infant leaves on the gnarled stems that so recently proclaimed no sign of life); and if the strips and blocks of fynbos, there to encourage nice insects that deal with the nasty ones, are full of life and texture and colour; and if the mountains of Stellenbosch are rising gloriously around you as you bump along and observe and learn. I confess I was too interested and having too good a time to make many notes, and, as I dismayingly discovered later, those I did mostly give evidence of the jerky terrain.

These vineyards were on the Oldenburg estate in the lovely Banhoek valley, with the farm’s remarkable and unique rounded-conical hill – called Rondekop, what else? – rising in the centre to offers a range of aspects as well as of soil-types, all the mountains ranging round and looking down approvingly. The viticulturist on my tour was Christo Crous, here since 2021, and there was also, sitting behind us, and adding perspective to the stories about vines, soils and growing conditions (coolness and a marked diurnal temperature range, good rainfall, etc), cellarmaster and general manager Nic van Aarde. Nic arrived as winemaker in 2019 and much of the excitement of Oldenburg these days dates from then.

There was a tentativeness about my report on my last visit to Oldenburg estate in this lovely Banhoek Valley. That was back in 2016, and the most enthusiastic I could get was to say that it was “an estate with a great deal of potential”. I’m certainly not the first to note how that potential is being fulfilled, but my recent visit made it clear to me just how far things have come – and in fact I’m confident that there is further to go and that the Oldenburg team are taking things there.

That team must, crucially, start, I suspect with owners Adrian and Vanessa van der Spuy, who bought the rundown property more than two decades back (it dates to the 1960s, one of the earliest wine farms in the area). Much was done, but it’s really only been properly coming together recently. Perhaps a learning process for Adrian, and the building of a fine team. Adrian himself, Switzerland-based (though born very locally), is, Nic and Christo say, deeply and intimately involved.

Also crucially, the years since I last visited have seen a renewed inpouring of investment. Not least, a cellar – awaiting approval back then in the face of a challenge from a grumpy neighbour – has been built (and now has a winemaker, Lucilia Ramos, to work with Nic). Virused vineyards have been pulled out and mostly replanted; there are now 24 hectares. Just eight hectares of those planted earlier in the century remain, and all are managed with focused care by Christo, who wants to work “with nature for our benefit” as well with science: this is coming to be “per vine” farming, with each vine having its own GPS identity and monitored (the same sort of thing that is being aimed at the Sadie home vineyards; interestingly, viticulturist Etienne Terblanche consults to both).

Another investment – a crucial one for their sales strategy it seems to me – is what they call the Tasting Room, though it’s a series of internal spaces and verandas with wonderful views across a fynbos garden (for those insects) to Rondekop and the mountains beyond. It’s expensive to taste there (after making a reservation): R1,100 per person for ten wines, and ad hoc additions for older vintages, vertical tastings and the like. But the glassware is all Zalto and Riedel (I think many tasters would be scared if they realised the price of those – there was a crash somewhere as we sat there after our drive and visit to the cellar, substantial enough to prompt Nic to joke thorough gritted teeth that “there goes the day’s margin!”). A team of trained and thoroughly informed sommeliers glide between the widely-spaced tables with bottles (sealed, and tapped with Coravins) and carafes. The latter are rather beautiful in their simplicity and our sommelier was visibly pleased when I referred to it as a carafe – most of the team call them decanters he said, but he agreed with me – always a good thing to do. Actually the Oldenburg bottles are pretty beautiful too, especially those of the Rondekop range.

The Tasting Room was full on the day of my visit and Nic says that’s typical. In fact, a remarkable 70% of Oldenburg’s sales go directly to customers, either immediately after tastings or via their Wine Club or the website – meaning fewer cuts to distributor and retailers. The wines are also handsomely priced, but not unreasonably so for these days: from R250 for the red and white CL blends behind their very chic labels, up to R1,050 for the Rondekop cabernet and syrah.

And so to a brief overview of some of the wines I tasted. There are, in fact, at present twelve regular wines on the list, which is quite a lot for a relatively small producer (plantings here include chardonnay, cabernets sauvignon and franc, grenache, merlot, shiraz, and chenin). My sampling included all four of the Rondekop wines. The finest of them, for me, is the Una V Chardonnay 2024 (from a youngish block, at the foot of the great hill, that they decided from 2023 to keep apart – there’s also a chardonnay in the standard range). Subtly spiced by a third new oak and flavoured by ripeness, it’s pure and elegant, light-feeling at 14% alcohol, remarkably but unaggressively intense with long, long lingering flavours. Surely to be placed amongst the ever-rising cream of Cape chardonnays, not only for its R850 price tag. The Banhoek valley is more widely proving to be a fine address for chardonnay.

The other three Rondekops are reds. Per Se 2021 is an excellent cabernet sauvignon from the gnarled mature vines that I’d earlier observed were the last on the farm to come into leaf. It’s undoubtedly ripe in its gorgeousness, with complex dark flavours, but reined-back winemaking keeps it on the understated side of traditional Stellenbosch cab’s sweet-fruited generosity. Cab is the smallest part of the Rhodium 2021 blend, with cab franc (55%) and merlot (35%) making up the majority. The alcohol here is a little higher, expressive of greater ripeness, and although there is a touch of elegance, I found it too close to sweetness on the finish for my tastes – but many won’t agree with that.

These are indeed emphatically Stellenbosch reds, though on the more restrained side of typical big ripeness. Stone Axe is a selection from a 20-year-old syrah vineyard on Rondekop, 15% wholebunch-pressed to add to the aromatics, matured in foudre and older barrels. It’s a wine full of personality, its distinctive character becoming more apparent as it opened up in the glass (one might argue the sommelier could have given it a little more air before serving). Succulent and rich, with a lovely texture, and just that typical touch of ripe sweetness on the finish.

There’s nothing tentative about my regard for Oldenburg this time. I think the future will hold greater things as the vines mature under Christo’s assiduous care; and the vision of the Van der Spuys and Nic is focused, ambitious, and already making this a splendid winery to visit (provided you can afford it), with very good wines to drink. Especially that chard. Oh, and the cab.

Tim James is one of South Africa’s leading wine commentators, contributing to various local and international wine publications. His book Wines of South Africa – Tradition and Revolution appeared in 2013.

Is the composition of South Africa’s vineyard plantings, taken in their entirety, truly fit for purpose? At first glance, the numbers are both revealing and slightly alarming. Chenin Blanc remains the country’s most planted variety at 18.4%, while Colombar ranks third at 10.4%. If you were imagining all of this as the material for deluxe bottlings, think again. By any reasonable measure, much of this crop is still destined for distillation. Attempts to elevate Colombar into a serious premium category are still, politely put, a work in progress.

And then there’s Cabernet Sauvignon, the fourth most planted at 10.1%. The explanation seems clear: much of it exists to ensure entry-level reds aren’t utterly insipid rather than to produce wines on the level of a Le Riche Reserve.

The structural challenge is obvious: a significant proportion of South African vineyards are not optimally planted to maximise either quality or profitability. Speaking at the South Africa Wine Summit in May, Rico Basson, CEO of umbrella body South African Wine, highlighted the urgent need for vineyard renewal. He suggested that ideally, 20% of the national vineyard should be five years old or younger to maintain a healthy pipeline of fruit. In reality, only 12% meets that benchmark, with Robertson, at 17%, coming closest. The message is clear: without renewal, the industry’s long-term viability is under threat.

This brings us neatly to the Old Vine Project, launched in 2016 by viticulturist Rosa Kruger. Its aim is twofold: firstly, to celebrate vineyards aged 35 years or older but secondly, to foster a culture of caring for young vines so they can one day reach old age in good health. Nearly 5,200 hectares of South African vineyards now carry the Old Vine certification out of a total of roughly 86,500 hectares nationally. The correlation between old vines and final wine quality is compelling, and the Certified Heritage Seal, backed by SAWIS, provides both credibility and a marketing tool.

The emphasis on old vines is not without debate, however. Respected producer Bruwer Raats, for example, promotes “quality by design,” demonstrating that young, strategically planted vines with carefully chosen clones and rootstocks can produce exceptional wines in a short time. His Eden project, begun in the early 2000s, illustrates that high-density, precision viticulture can yield quality that rivals or even surpasses older vines. Yet even Raats acknowledges that old vines – whether through intrinsic quality or the marketing sizzle they bring – still matter, as his Old Vine Chenin Blanc shows.

In a similar vein, super-star Eben Sadie changed the collective name of “Ouwingerd Reeks” (Old Vine Series) for his single-vineyard wines to “Distrik Reeks” (District Series) to allow for wines from more recently planted vineyards, his 2024 releases including a white field blend called Twiswind from a site planted in 2019 and a red called Sonvang planted in 2021.

The tension between young and old vines is real, but the conversation should not be about choosing one over the other. It is about managing both intelligently. Old vines inspire and create aspirational benchmarks – the “unicorns” of South African wine. They set identity and attract attention. But aspiration alone does not pay the bills. Young, well-managed vineyards ensure profitability, consistency, and the long-term survival of the industry.

The broader challenge facing South African wine mirrors this pressure. Demand, supply, overstock, and lack of cashflow are the unglamorous realities behind the attention-grabbing cult cuvées. For a time, wine farms could double as lifestyle projects or tax write-offs. Those days are over. Today, a farm must be a functioning business, which means confronting the brutal economics of labour, energy, logistics, and a shrinking pool of consumers willing or able to pay top dollar. Push prices too far, and your “aspirational” wine ends up admired from afar, but never actually consumed – a costly illusion of success.

Solutions aren’t simple, but here’s a path forward. Wine producers can’t necessarily cling to pride in reputation or old brand values as today’s market is too fast-moving, and stubbornness risks lost sales and relevance. Quality should be measured not by what a winemaker thinks a bottle “should” fetch, but by what consumers see as fair value. Producers need to focus on wines with steady demand and manageable costs while still nurturing the rare, exclusive bottles that define their identity. And I’ll say it again: Wine culture should be inclusive, inspiring, and uplifting. Above all, it should be fun. Part of a life well lived, not a way to show off cash or status.

South African wine is world-class, but world-class quality alone will not keep the lights on. Diversification, adaptive business models, and strategic vineyard management are essential. The Old Vine Project demonstrates how thoughtful stewardship of both old and young vineyards can support prestige, aspiration, and profitability at the same time.

Entries for the second annual Old Vine Report close at midnight on Wednesday, 8 October. To enter, click here.

The fact sheets for Boekenhoutskloof’s two Cabernets in 2022 (both R600 a bottle) make for interesting reading. In Franschhoek, reference is made to a “prolonged heatwave in January [which] caused significant stress to the vineyards”; while for Stellenbosch, we learn that “heat waves with temperatures exceeding 35°C contributed to a generally small crop and smaller berry size”.

Lack of concentration, it will come as no surprise, is not an issue in either wine. Of the two, however, I find the Franschhoek more successful – a small portion of the Cabernet Franc is always included here, and in 2022 it plays the role providing welcome nuance.

Matured for 22 months in barrel, of which 95% were new, Franschhoek shows floral perfume, a hint of herbs, red and black berries, milk chocolate, pencil shavings and oak spice while the palate is powerful yet balanced – concentrated fruit, fresh acidity and fine tannins. Alc: 14.51%.

Duration of maturation for Stellenbosch was the same but here new oak was 60%. Aromatics include plums, cassis, the slightest herbaceous note, violets, earth and oak spice. The palate is extraordinarily rich to the point of decadent – seemingly sweet with moderate acidity, thick in texture, the tannins velvety. Restraint is not the watchword here. Alc: 14.5%.

Recently, I was at a tasting of some very fancy wines from Napa. Someone round the table asked for the alcohol levels. All were 15% or thereabouts, and all were selling for multiple hundreds of dollars. This isn’t all that surprising these days, because we’ve got used to the rise in alcohol levels.

Have you tasted many wines from Napa or the Barossa, for example, from the 1980s or earlier? It was common then to find alcohol levels of 12% or 12.5%, and many of these wines aged really well. The 1971 Grange that I tasted in 2009 had an alcohol level of 11.5%. The 2019, the most recent vintage I tried, is 14.5% alcohol, which is pretty typical for this wine now.

And in the classic wine regions of Europe, there’s been a similar rise. 14.5% alcohol used to be unheard of in Bordeaux. Now, though, high end wines pop up at that level from time to time.

There are quite a few interesting questions concerning alcohol levels in wine. First, why have they risen? Second, is this a bad thing? And if so, why? Third, is there anything that can be done about it, or is this simply the price for delicious wine?

In answer to the first question, there are three reasons why alcohol levels have risen. Let’s back track to the no-so-distant past. In classic regions such as Bordeaux and Burgundy, everyone waited to pick as long as they could before the autumn rains. Over-ripeness was almost non-existent. Sugar levels in the grapes were measured and as soon as they were high enough, people picked, because by the time they got to 13% potential alcohol the grapes would be flavour ripe.

Often they’d have to pick earlier than they’d like. If the rains set in, the grapes would have to come off. It was not unusual to chaptalize the must, adding sugar to boost the potential alcohol. Bad years would make horrible wine, unripe and acidic, with some rot. And there were a lot of bad years.

Climates have changed, though, and viticulture has got better. So this has led to the potential for leaving the grapes on the vine for longer. And because ripeness was at a premium in the past, the more the merrier. So it got pushed. And in new wine countries where there was no threat of inclement weather deciding picking dates, the temptation was to leave grapes on the vine for longer.

This coincided with the emergence of critics who praised wines that were bigger, made from riper fruit. Reds with sweet, lush fruit and soft tannins seemed to be the way to go. Luxurious wines that tasted rich. For novice drinkers with big budgets, these wines were much easier to appreciate than young reds with challenging tannins, built to last.

In the late 1990s and early 2000s, everyone seemed to go down the later-picking routs. It did make wines with impact and bold flavours, which tasted delicious. But these wines didn’t seem to age well. And they were tiring to drink with their high alcohol levels.

As I write this, I’ve just come from a lunch with JC Martin of Creation wines in South Africa’s Hemel-en-Aarde. He moved to South Africa from Switzerland, planting a vineyard in 2002. Initially he was thrilled not to be working with the same climatic constraints he faced in Switzerland. He could leave grapes on the vines as long as he wanted. So with his Chardonnay, he waited, and then picked when the grapes tasted ripe. But on a visit to Burgundy, he was told by Chardonnay producers there that once the grapes taste ripe and delicious, you’ve probably missed your pick. And he made the shift to picking earlier after noticing that his early pick, where he took some of the grapes off early to provide a high-acid blending component, made great wine on its own.

One of the problems with high alcohol levels is the sensory effect of the alcohol, which affects the aromatics of the wine. Putting it simply, as alcohols rise, they dampen down the aromatics, and the fruity aromatics are inhibited.

I think one of the insidious effects of later picking and higher alcohol is not necessarily the alcohol (although this does have a significant sensory effect); it’s that high alcohol correlates with picking later, which moves the flavours in the grapes in a direction where the fruit, in reds, gets jammier and sweeter. The tannins evolve and get softer. And the acid levels decrease. All these things together make for a wine with a superficial deliciousness, but which are tedious and rather silly when they are lined up against more serious wines picked at the right time.

So what can be done about higher alcohol levels? The obvious answer is pick earlier. I’ve heard very few winemakers say that they missed the pick by going in too early, but quite a few saying they missed it by going in too late. In many cases, picking early results in more interesting wines. But as I heard earlier this week, some winemakers have tried picking earlier and have found that their wines don’t taste as nice. So one of the factors here is style: some winemakers and some consumers like ripe wines, made in a richer style. They like softer tannins in red wines, and they like bolder, richer, more tropical flavours in white wines.

The holy grail is to get flavour ripeness (however you define this) in the grapes without too much potential alcohol. Good viticulture can help with this. Having slightly higher yields can slow ripening down, bringing it into cooler weather where the sugars don’t motor away. Careful fruit zone leaf removal can also help; not too much if it’s sunny. Viticulture can also aim to increase homogeneity in ripening. If ripening is heterogeneous in the same block, by the time all the grapes are ripe, some will be over-ripe. Sorting carefully can remove clusters or berries that are raisined and over-ripe. Kaolin (a type of clay) can be sprayed on canopies and fruit to reflect back some light, or shade netting can be used.

But my suspicion is that the easiest solution to high alcohol and over-ripeness is, in most cases, just to pick earlier. I’ve tasted enough wines now made in warm climates but which have relatively modest alcohol levels, and good acidities, and they are delicious. I think that some notions of what constitutes ripeness are simply delusional. Yes, it is possible to have balanced wines at 15% alcohol. It’s just very rare. And most 15% alcohol wines have flavours of overripeness.

Can Cabernet Sauvignon succeed outside Stellenbosch? The Limited Release from Franschhoek property La Bri typically appeals on account of its restraint, the current release 2022 coming in with a moderate alcohol of 13.5%.

From a block planted in 1999, maturation lasted 24 months in French oak barrels. The nose is lifted with aromatics of red and black berries, a pleasant herbal edge plus hints of vanilla and pencil shavings while the palate is medium bodied but padded out by a little sweetness, good freshness, and velvety tannins that taper to a notably dry finish. Price: R400 a bottle.

“We didn’t want another pretty poster by a cartographer,” says well-known viticulturist Jaco Engelbrecht in his characteristically direct manner. “This map links geology to viticulture and actual pockets of wine styles. Most maps are either created by geologists in a lab with no dirt under their fingernails, or designers who love aesthetics. This one’s created by actual farmers.”

This conversation is beaming out from Eben Sadie’s Rotsbank farm into my lounge in Noordhoek. It’s early morning. Sadie and Engelbrecht nurse cups of coffee, the vaulted ceiling of the cellar rising in the background.

“We’ve built a soil map,” Sadie emphasises. “It’s not about marketing, it’s a working document for us to study and populate with accurate information. Hopefully it will help pave the way to a deeper understanding of what this remarkable place is all about.”

The map, titled The Impact of Swartland’s Geology on Wine Styles: A Map-Based Analysis, is available in high resolution from the Swartland Wine and Olive Route website for R650. The initiative has been painstakingly put together by Engelbrecht and Sadie over a period of two years of “very late nights” with “minimal financial backing”.

“Normally you see a ton of sponsor logos at the bottom of a map,” points out Sadie, alluding to how other more moneyed regions benefit from institutional support, whereas this initiative has been entirely self-financed.

As publicised as it is, the vast Swartland continues to be something of an enigma. It’s South Africa’s largest wine district in terms of surface area (the fifth most planted to vines). The boundaries stretch approximately 999,000 hectares, from the Atlantic coast to inland mountains, patchworked with wheatfields and bushvines in between. The sheer scale and complexity make the district difficult to grasp, a constant frustration for producers trying to explain it.

“Journalists still call it flat,” says Sadie, shaking his head. “It’s one of the most mountainous wine regions in South Africa. Size breeds diversity: increased surface area means increased anomalies.”

The map is a means to bring clarity. Burgundy and Bordeaux have been mapped, scrutinised and revised for centuries. That intimacy of understanding is part of the allure of these places. It arms wine geeks with the confidence to pontificate on the link between limestone soils and high acids. Ask any scholar, maps are the bedrock of wine education.

In the process they uncovered nearly 700 geological polygons, which is to say a map key that indicates an area with uniform soil structure, though it may contain several. These were simplified to connect parent rock to vineyard expression.

Why create the map now? “The Swartland has come of age,” says Sadie simply, explaining that over the past two decades the region has expanded massively in focus, with new producers, new sites, new varieties. “Such a map couldn’t have been made earlier. You need time to show a cohesive stylistic DNA. Vintages building on each other, winemakers learning their parcels, styles consolidating into something recognisable.”

The need, he argues, has become more acute. For years the Swartland has been defined more by personality than by place. Wards exist on paper, but they don’t always connect clearly to what’s in the glass. What matters more is soil, slope, and geology, factors that cut across ward boundaries. “This map seeks to capture that truth: not a bureaucratic grid, but a practical tool linking terroir to wine identity.”

It is, by any measure, an ambitious undertaking. Distilling such diversity into something legible is no small task. The goal is a living framework that grows as the region itself evolves. Once that dynamic is in place, the pair believe the Swartland can finally tell its story with both confidence and cohesion.

Some discoveries from the masterwork include that much of the Swartland is defined by lean soils with clay content under 15%. To the west, above Malmesbury and the R45, clay levels rise to 15–35%, shaping a different profile of vineyard potential.

At the heart of the region lies the Malmesbury Group, a formation that stretches in a broken belt of mountains from Cape Town up to Piketberg. Its bedrock, greywacke, phyllite, quartz schist, and pockets of limestone pushes up into foothills and ridges around Malmesbury, the Riebeek Valley, Moorreesburg and Piketberg. These soils are considered among the Cape’s finest.

Magma once surged through the Swartland, cooling into granite outcrops that today form the Paardeberg, while later shifts overlaid parts of the region with sandstone from the Cape Supergroup. The Paardeberg rising nearly 700 metres is dotted with massive dolerite boulders. The Kasteelberg and Piketberg, by contrast, stand as sandstone survivors, their peaks reaching between 1000 and 1300 metres. The shale-based rises of Malmesbury and Porseleinberg climb more modestly, 200 to 400 metres, but remain crucial landmarks in the Swartland’s patchwork of soils and elevations.

An example of linking style to place is the Paardeberg’s granite; whites from here often show clarity and bright acidity. The reds, fine tannins with a chiselled structure.

Sadie notes that the local culture of vinification helps make these expressions clearer. Few producers use new oak; instead, many wines are bottled with minimal intervention. “Regional tastings show it clearly, the absence of oak overtones allows the nuance of each micro-terroir to emerge more quickly.”

That ethos, Sadie explains, has been crucial in decoding site expression. With wines presented transparently, without the gloss of heavy cellar work, it’s possible to map how soil and slope overlap with flavour and texture. “The information in the glass feels true, a direct translation of geology into wine.”

The ambition is writ large. Plans include making the map interactive, printing it in 3D, there’s talk of an app. Most importantly, Sadie stresses, they want this level of mapping for the entire country. “The industry should back it, then take it national. Otherwise we’ll argue on Instagram while nothing happens.

“Just picture it: one geological thread defining the Cape. We would finally send a unified message to the world. After all, rising tides lift all boats.”

Sadie Family Wines Skurfberg Chenin Blanc 2024 – 98 (read original review here)

Lourens Family Wines Mathias Chenin Blanc 2024 – 97 (read original review here)

Sadie Family Wines ‘T Voetpad White blend 2024 – 97 (read original review here)

Sadie Family Wines Palladius White blend 2023 – 96 (read original review here)

Damascene Stellenbosch Cabernet Sauvignon 2023 – 95 (read original review here)

Kruger Family Wines Old Vines Swartland Chardonnay 2024 – 95 (read original review here)

Lourens Family Wines Skuinskap Chenin Blanc 2024 – 95 (read original review here)

Sadie Family Wines Rotsbank Chenin Blanc 2024 – 95 (read original review here)

Sadie Family Wines Mev. Kirsten Chenin Blanc 2024 – 95 (read original review here)

Launched in 1997 by South African businessman Anton Rupert and French banker Baron Edmond de Rothschild, Rupert & Rothschild was conceived with a deliberately tight portfolio – just three wines – so that focus could drive excellence. The red blend, Classique, has become one of South Africa’s modern-era success stories: significant volume at a meaningful price. The other two, more premium wines, namely Baroness Nadine Chardonnay and the grander red blend Baron Edmond, meanwhile, continue to deliver consistently at a high level.

The Baroness Nadine 2023, for instance, combines concentration with freshness. Made from grapes sourced in Elgin and Stellenbosch, it was matured for 11 months – 84% in 300-litre barrels (33% first fill) and 16% in foudre. The nose shows citrus, peach, wet wool, and a bread-like note, while the palate combines dense fruit with a brisk line of acidity, finishing savoury and full of flavour. Price: R362 a bottle.

Cape Winemakers Guild Auction 2025 sales figures

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