Scions of Sinai is Bernhard Bredell’s way of honouring his family’s farming heritage – he grew up on Helderzicht farm in the lower Heldeberg where his father Anton became particularly renowned for high-quality Port-style wines. Unfortunately, the farm was later sold and Bredell now dedicates himself to making wines from old vines which surround Sinai Hill, a landmark in the area.
Scions of Sinai Granietsteen Chenin Blanc 2017
Approximate retail price: R305
From vineyards approximately 50 years old. Vinification involved five days of pre-ferment skin contact before fermentation and maturation lasting nine months in old barrels. Almost luminous yellow in colour. A very expressive nose of peach, apricot, baked apple, pineapple, honeycomb and earth while the palate is super-concentrated with tangy acidity and savoury, slightly grippy finish. Alcohol: 13%.
Editor’s rating: 93/100.
Scions of Sinai Swanesang Syrah 2017
Approximate retail price: R305
The last vintage from a vineyard “quite mature for SA Syrah”, this subsequently uprooted. Partial whole-bunch fermentation before maturation lasting 10 months in old French oak barrels. An appealing nose of red and black fruit, lavender, fynbos, earth, pepper and spice. The palate shows juicy fruit, fresh acidity and fine tannins – relatively dense and really tasty given an alcohol of just 12.5%.
Editor’s rating: 91/100.
Find our South African wine ratings database here.
Jan van Riebeeck was not a very nice fellow. At best, the letters and journal he wrote detailing his decade as first commander of the Cape of Good Hope (1652-1662) show that he was an ingratiating little toady, constantly trying to find favour with his bosses (the Dutch East India Company or VOC) in the hope of securing a more prestigious posting in the East.
He never quite succeeded.
Unpopular even among the rough-and-ready soldiers of fortune who joined him at the Cape to set up a refreshment station (and who absconded or at least requested transfers in astonishing numbers), not to mention the indigenous Khoi people who soon found themselves cut off from their traditional grazing lands and water sources, Van Riebeeck did not deserve the adulation he received in pre-democratic South Africa.
Not JvR but Bartholomeus Vermuyden.
So much of what we were taught about him under Apartheid simply wasn’t true. It wasn’t even his face gracing our old paper currency! (The chiselled features and flowing locks seem to have belonged to a certain Bartholomeus Vermuyden, who never set foot on African soil…).
But one thing’s for sure: it was Jan van Riebeeck rather than Simon van der Stel (of Stellenbosch and Constantia fame) or the vastly over-hyped French Huguenots (of Franschhoek) who sowed the seeds of the South African wine industry.
Even before his appointment as commander, he was pushing for vines to be planted here. ‘Wine acts as a cordial, and strengthens,’ wrote the then junior surgeon in what was effectively his June 1651 job application.
On 13 May 1652, little over a month after arriving here, he wrote to his VOC directors requesting that he be sent cuttings of vines ‘that will grow against the mountains as beautifully as in Spain or France’.
The first recorded arrival of viable vine cuttings occurred on 22 July 1655, when the Leeuwin docked with a single tray of ‘wyngaerd’. It was followed by the Dordrecht with a tray of French vine cuttings and the Parel with three vats (‘tobbekens’) of cuttings.
Although there is no record of what the varieties were, it is generally accepted that they included Semillon, Chenin Blanc, Muscat of Alexandria and Muscat de Frontignan – and at least some of them took root and grew well in the Company’s Garden, for on 2 February 1659 Van Riebeeck wrote some of the most famous words in New World winegrowing history: ‘Today, praise be to God, wine was made for the first time from the Cape grapes, and the new must fresh from the tub was tasted.’
Total yield was a ‘cleyn proeffieu’ of only 12 bottles, but Van Riebeeck had far greater ambitions. He had repeatedly tried to press vine cuttings on the first vrijburghers – men granted land along the Liesbeeck River from 1657 onwards – but found them to be ‘very indifferent’. So in August 1658, ‘during the waning moon’, he planted 1200 cuttings on the land he’d personally been given permission to farm – then known as the Bosch Heuvel or Bosheuvel, today the prestigious suburb of Bishopscourt.
In December 1658 he proudly recorded that his vineyard was looking ‘splendid’ and in March 1659 he reported: ‘Vines of various sorts are thriving excellently and promising well.’
Then came the first Khoi-Dutch war, during which vineyard was ‘completely destroyed’, but he planted a further 1000 cuttings in August 1659 and in September 1660 he was finally able to report that the vrijburghers were ‘nicely following suit’ and planting vines: ‘Hundreds of stocks are given to them, as they can be planted easily on the poorest soil, after the corn has been put into the ground, and without interfering with that work.’
Alas, nobody at the Cape had any idea about winemaking, prompting Van Riebeeck to write to his VOC directors repeatedly for assistance. On 22 February 1658, for example, he wrote: ‘We request you to furnish us with some information regarding pressing, etc, as well as some tools necessary for the same, and if possible, two or three persons understanding the business, for the prospects of an abundant growth of vineyards appear to be exceptionally good.’
On 19 March 1660 he tried again: ‘We are anxiously expecting further information from you regarding the pressing of wine.’
However, all he got in return was criticism for providing insufficient refreshment to visiting ships (based on complaints that he insisted were untrue) and a command to start preparing for his dismissal from the Cape.
Considering winegrowing was the least of his worries by that stage, he devoted a lot of time to it in his parting missive of 9 April 1662, despairing about the ravages of the birds but remaining optimistic: ‘Many vine stocks at the foot of the mountains … are thriving … this season very beautifully, indeed, six times better than those planted previously on the mountain summits.’
He insisted: ‘We have no doubt about the success of the vineyards and grapes, if they are only properly attended to. They will in due course tell their own tale.’
Famous last words, indeed.
Bibliography
Leibbrandt, HCV: Precis of the Archives of the Cape of Good Hope (Riebeeck’s journal, parts 1-3, Dec 1651-May 1662; Letters despatched from the Cape, 1652-1662, parts 2-3), originally published by W.A. Richards & Sons, 1896-1905, digitised by University of California Libraries (https://archive.org)
Moodie, Donald: The Record; or Official Papers relative to the Condition and Treatment of the Native Tribes of South Africa, Part 1. 1649-1720, Cape Town 1838-39, digitised by the Internet Archive, 2015 (https://archive.org)
Van Rensburg, J.I: Die Geskiedenis van die Wingerdkultuur in Suid-Afrika tuidens die Eerste Eeu, 1652-1752. MA Thesis, University of Stellenbosch, 1930
Going like a Boeing.
Boplaas in Calitzdorp has again made available its Port-style Cape Vintage Reserve 2006 at R1 200 a bottle along with the release of the 2016 vintage at R350 a bottle.
The 2006 rated 5 Stars on release in Wine magazine and continues to show magnificently. A blend of Touriga Nacional, Tinta Barocca and Souzão sourced from Calitzdorp and Stellenbosch, the nose shows top notes of flowers and herbs before red, blue and black fruit plus a hint of spice while the palate shows great fruit concentration, fresh acidity and tannins that are smooth in the best sense.
I last encountered in April 2016 (see here) and while my tasting note is very similar, I’m inclined to revise my rating upwards from 92 to 94 – this is a monumental wine which has only gained in harmony in the last two years and gives every indication of being able to last a long, long time.
The 2016 is, as you might expect, very primary. Again, some floral perfume, black and blue fruit, herbs and spice on the nose. The palate is dense with lovely freshness and intense tannic grip, the finish long and dry and just a little bit earthy. Initially, it appeared rather monolithic but revisited after 24 hours, it was more giving and again, this should mature well for many years.
Editor’s rating: 92/100.
The Brakkuil vineyards.
One of the Cape’s most extraordinary wine-growing areas, and one of the most obscure, is inland from St Helena Bay on the Atlantic coast, many hours’ drive north from Cape Town. After I first visited it some years back, to see the vineyard from which Eben Sadie gets the grapes for his Skerpioen, I wrote about an “arid landscape, without magnificence or overt charm”, and said ‘it took a walk through a vineyard before I felt it start to grip my imagination.”
There is white sand instead of what one thinks vineyard soil should be like, there is some limestone – rare in the Cape; precious little rain falls (perhaps 200 mm per year at best), but the moisture-laden sea air allows vines to do more than survive these most unlikely-looking conditions.
Twelve or so hectares of vines grow on Brakkuil, the Bouwer family’s 850-hectare farm (where cattle and springbok are more common). And of those, there are less than two hectares of a grape they call barbarossa, the vines planted in 1978 and all that remains of the farm’s original vineyards, which had been badly neglected by the time the Bouwers took over in 2002, and mostly needed to be pulled up.
The vines are not actually barbarossa, despite the Wine and Spirit Board’s blessing – but I’ll come back to that.
A few years ago, in partnership with farmer Wimpie Bouwer, the grapes were vinified by Adi Badenhorst in his Paardeberg winery, and bottled in 2014 as Brak-kuil Barbarossa (it lost the hyphen in 2015). But now, Brakkuil Barbarossa, with a wholly new label, is being made in the old winery on the farm by young John Bouwer, who tells me that his burning ambitions to make wine date back to a Std 8 school outing to Neethlingshof. The 2017 is the first release in what will be a range of wines from Brakkuil – I’m looking forward to trying the Palomino 2017 (though that seems to be under than brand name Barren Sands, which is a bit confusing). And there’s a 2018 version of another exciting wine associated with Adi Badenhorst (but made by John – hence the name: John Strikes Again From Under a Veil of Good Fortune), from sauvignon blanc, of all things, and matured under a veil of yeast in Jura vin jaune style.
Brakkuil Barbarossa 2017 was made in hands-off fashion – spontaneous fermentation, etc, and very low sulphur addition. It’s ripe (14% alcohol) and quite rich, with plenty of sweet-fruited velvety smoothness. As was also true of the Badenhorst version, the perfume is rather cinsaut-like, and there’s both brightness and darkness to the wine’s fruit character. John’s version is less structured, however, with the gentlest of tannic grips, and perhaps a touch less fresh. Unchallenging even in extreme youth, and undoubtedly pretty delicious.
The variety, though…. It seems pretty certain (as explained by Dr Jerry Rodrigues in a comment on my Winemag note about Adi’s 2014 Barbarossa) that the variety in the Cape is not the Italian barbarossa – whatever that is: it’s described in Robinson, Harding and Vouillamoz’s authoritative Wine Grapes guide as the “confusing name for several, possibly unrelated, varieties”. Dr Rodrigues points out that “The Barbarossa grapevine that grew in the Cape area (especially around Constantia), was identified by Prof. Abraham Perold way back in 1927 (in his ‘Treatise on Viticulture’) as being none other than the French cultivar called Danugue (aka Gros Guillaume).” Danugue is, in fact, a French table grape, not used there for wine.
So why did Nietvoorbij more recently get the identification wrong, by settling for the old (mis)understanding? Inexcusable, surely. It’s a pity there is this confusion about the variety, and perhaps the authorities will eventually sort it out. “Brakkuil Danugue” would sound just as intriguing and rare! But, I dare say, remembering the appalling history of crouchen blanc being encouraged by the Wine and Spirit Board to masquerade as riesling for so long, it might take a lot of pushing!
And, ah well, it doesn’t matter too much. Barbarossa is unlikely to ever move from occupying the tiniest niche here. The wine, anyway, is a welcome, charming addition to what the Cape has to offer. Look out for the Brakkuil (it’s not going to be cheap or great value, I think, perhaps R200 at least); not available via retail yet, but it should be soon. If you’re in a hurry to try it, though, you could contact the producer via the well-illustrated website and see. Just 2400 bottles were made in 2017, but John says there’ll be more 2018.
By 2017, the drought was tightening its grip in the Swartland and this seems to show in the wines of David & Nadia Sadie, many of the wines lacking the same concentration of previous vintages. This is not to say that what’s on offer is massively diminished rather that vintage variation is a very real thing.
Topography series
David & Nadia Topography Semillon 2017
Vinification involved one week of skin contact. Some potpourri and herbs before citrus and yellow peach. Good concentration, tangy acidity and some phenolic grip on the finish lending interest. Some oxidative character only adds interest.
Editor’s rating: 91/100.
David & Nadia Topography Pinotage 2017
Red cherry and some floral perfume. Juicy and fresh with a little spice on the finish but generally quite soft tannins. Fun to drink but not nearly as compelling as previous vintages.
Editor’s rating: 89/100.
David & Nadia Topography Chenin Blanc 2017 previously reviewed here.
David & Nadia series
David & Nadia Chenin Blanc 2017
From seven different Swartland vineyards. An elusive nose of pear, peach, hay and dried herbs. The palate is light and fresh with a pithy finish. Delicate and exceptionally restrained at this stage.
Editor’s rating: 92/100.
David & Nadia Aristargos 2017
58% Chenin Blanc, 14% Viognier, 13% Viognier, 7% Semillon, 5% Roussanne and 3% Marsanne (the latter variety appearing for the first time). Pear, white peach, lemon and naartjie plus a slight waxy note. Concentrated fruit and fresh acidity. Not without weight or texture but less striking than 2016.
Editor’s rating: 94/100.
David & Nadia Grenache 2017
Top notes of fynbos and fresh herbs plus a sort of pink sweet dustiness before red cherry and cranberry. Light bodied with lemon-like acidity and fine tannins, the finish gently savoury. Very likeable but arguably a little insubstantial.
Editor’s rating: 90/100.
David & Nadia Elpidios 2016
34% Carignan, 33% Syrah, 14% Cinsault, 14% Pinotage and 5% Grenache. Red and black cherries, plums, earth and spice on the nose. Relatively dense with bright acidity and tannins which are smooth in the best sense. Flavourful and appealing.
Editor’s rating: 91/100.
Single Vineyard series
David & Nadia Hoë-Steen Chenin Blanc 2017
From a 1968 vineyard (Chenin Blanc in the main but interplanted with other varieties as was the custom of the time) and if the bigger-volume wines are slightly below par because of the drought, this most definitely is not. A subtle but utterly compelling nose of pear, white peach, citrus, hay and yellow earth. The palate displays extraordinary fruit concentration with an invigorating line of acidity, a slight bitterness to the finish merely an extra point of detail. Intricate, harmonious, long – an absolute must-buy for any serious collector.
Editor’s rating: 97/100.
David & Nadia Skaliekop Chenin Blanc 2017
From a 1985 vineyard. Grows in stature with each new vintage. Naartjie, stone fruit, fynbos and spice on the nose. Relatively rich and broad on the palate but with more tangy acidity than previous vintages. Nice texture and weight, the finish nicely savoury – full of personality.
Editor’s rating: 95/100.
Prices to be confirmed.
Find our South African wine ratings database here.
This is perhaps a confession of something too close to addiction to be proudly proclaimed – but I daresay many readers of this website might have minor confessions of a related type. Anyway, I find it a trifle odd that I, who snootily tend to dismiss some table wines as unacceptably alcoholic at 15% or even less (that hot finish!), should (also) be so much in love with strong drink.
Look around here and the evidence isn’t obvious – no cupboardfuls of spirits or fortified wines. Just a nearly empty bottle of Gonzalez Byass Alfonso oloroso sherry (ABV: 18%), and a nearly full one of green Chartreuse (ABV: 55%!), both of which were a little fuller at the start of my evening – but their presence, especially simultaneously, is unusual in my house, and really what prompted this line of public musing.
In fact, it is the very absence of much evidence that is a sign to be read. If I had a permanent supply of strong stuff, I would drink much too much of it, so I don’t, as I wish to keep within what I choose to consider a reasonable alcoholic intake (though my doctor thinks it pretty outrageous). Brandy, for example. I really love good brandy, and local brandy is excellent value, at all levels, especially compared with pricey wine. I occasionally buy a bottle as a treat (the biggest treat of all being Oude Meester Souverein 18 Year Old), but it lasts a ridiculously short time. Sherry I do tend to have in stock and to drink occasionally, but fino is less alcoholic than some blockbuster red wines, and other styles seldom go higher than 20% ABV.
Sherry and brandy are dry (brandy, including cognac, a little less so than one would imagine), while most of the fortified wines I like are to some degree sweet, and I admit that some of the pleasure is not just the alcohol. It’s also sugar. Port, of course, both ruby and tawny styles, and also madeira (all things being possible, I’d probably choose to be cheerfully sipping a Bual or a Malmsey as I shuffle away from all good things for ever).
And if there’s cream as well as sweetness, then I can indulge joyously in those most vulgar of alcoholic pleasures, alongside the sippers of Dom Pedros and Irish coffees in steakhouses, and the millions around the world who help keep Distell going by drinking Amarula Cream. Cream liqueur is actually probably the first alcoholic drink I can recall enjoying. When I was a small boy, my mother would take me and my little sister to spend an evening playing Cluedo with a delightful elderly neighbour. Mrs Hayott would always produce a tiny glass of Tia Maria as part of the pleasure of sorting out who killed whom, with what, in what room on the gameboard.
More recently (but a good few years back), I had been given a bottle of Amarula Cream and was thoroughly enjoying refilling my glass when I realised that the bottle was half-empty and I wasn’t ready to stop. So I poured the remainder down the lavatory as the only solution to my lack of mature self-control. When I told friend and colleague Cathy van Zyl (not yet an MW) about this, she shuddered and was incredulous, and said something to the effect of “I couldn’t drink that stuff even if it was poured over Brad Pitt!” (too much of a good thing, surely).
As to the Chartreuse I mentioned earlier, this is my latest love. The bottle, as well as the taste for its contents, was given me by Marc Kent, the genius of Boekenhoutskloof, who has long enjoyed this remarkable liqueuer – made by French Carthusian monks since 1737. Alcohol plus some 130 herbs, plants and flowers; wonderful stuff, intensely sweet and hugely powerful, all in brilliant balance.
I mustn’t trivialise alcohol. I desperately pity those who are so deeply committed to strong drink that it controls and limits and too much distorts and damages them. I am enthralled by alcohol and its effects when it’s marvellously allied to delights of aroma, flavour, texture – but not uncontrolledly so. As I suggested, my doctor thinks I indulge too much, but I’m hoping not. Nothing succeeds like excess, as dear Oscar said. The brain cells are going, of course (and I must check up on the liver), but I’m of the age when mental loss becomes sadly obvious anyway. Sensual pleasure persists thus far, however, and I owe much happiness to alcohol.
Pétillant-naturel – abbreviated to “pét-nat” among hipsters and involving the méthode ancestrale of production, i.e. stopping an unfinished fermentation and then bottling the wine before allowing the fermentation to complete, a risky and unpredictable technique resulting in wine less fizzy than that made by the Champagne method (a secondary fermentation enacted by adding sugar and yeast) – is a small but growing category in South Africa.
In order to take some kind of measure of things, a line-up of seven current-release examples was assembled and tasted blind by a panel including Matthew Copeland of Vondeling, Peter Ferreira of Graham Beck, Francois Haasbroek of Blackwater Wine, Francois Rautenbach of Singita and me.
The wines to feature were: Blacksmith Bloodline 2017. Bosman Petnat 2017, Bosman Petnat 2017, Dragonridge Supernova 2015, Scali Ancestor 2014, Vondeling Rurale Brut 2015 and Vondeling Rurale Blanc de Noir 2015.
The over-all top four were:
1. Vondeling Rurale Blanc de Noir 2015
2. Dragonridge Supernova 2015
3. Scali Ancestor 2014
4. Bosman Petnat 2017
Tasting notes and ratings for my top two wines as follows:
Enticing.
Vondeling Rurale Blanc de Noir 2015
Price: R265
From Pinotage. 28 months on the lees. Peach, blood orange and red apple plus some subtle yeasty character on the nose. Concentrated fruit, bright acidity and a soft bubble before a savoury finish. Very tasty and more-ish in a category where some of the wines are just plain weird.
Editor’s rating: 88/100.
Dragonridge Supernova 2015
Price: RXXX
From 45% Chenin Blanc, 45% Pinotage and 10% Chardonnay. Orange, red apple and spice. Rich but balanced with fresh acidity and a savoury finish. Well balanced and relatively complex.
Editor’s rating: 88/100.
Find our South African wine ratings database here.
Kaboom!
One of Chenin Blanc’s great strengths is also a great weakness – it’s capable of a multitude of legitimate stylistic expressions, the result being that the cognoscenti will never be bored while the average Joe can be left a bit bewildered.
If you like your Chenin big and booming, then you’ll like The Bernard Series Old Vine offering from Bellingham. Tasting notes and ratings for the 2015 to 2017 vintages as follows:
Bellingham The Bernard Series Old Vine Chenin Blanc 2015
Grapes from old vines situated in Stellenbosch, Durbanville and Agter Paarl. Matured for 12 months in French oak, 30% new. Golden in colour, the nose shows yellow fruit, bee’s wax and lanolin. The palate is rich and greasy with coated acidity and a gently savoury finish – a dramatic wine. Alc: 14% and RS: 4.2g/l. Rated 5 Stars in Platter’s 2017.
Editor’s rating: 90/100.
Bellingham The Bernard Series Old Vine Chenin Blanc 2016
Approximate retail price: R225 – current release
Maturation included 10% foudre. Citrus, peach and apricot plus a hint of hay on the nose. Full but balanced – pure fruit and fresh acidity with a slight bitterness to the finish lending interest. Alc: 14% and RS: 4g/l.
Editor’s rating: 91/100.
Bellingham The Bernard Series Old Vine Chenin Blanc 2017
Maturation included 20% foudre. White and yellow fruit as well as notes of hay and spice. Good concentration and fresh acidity before a long, dry finish. Still forceful but a little more tightly wound than the previous two vintages.
Editor’s rating: 92/100.
Find our South African wine ratings database here.
Properly old vines.
Grapes for this Muscadel from Robertson property Rietvallei come from a quarter hectare of Muscat de Frontignan planted in 1908, making it the oldest vineyards of this variety in South Africa and hence the designation.
Tank matured for 12 months, the nose is very expressive with notes of raisins, geranium, fresh herbs and hint of toffee. The palate is relatively light, clean and fresh, the overall flavour impression being mint humbug. RS is 184g/l and alcohol is 15%. Price: R200 per 375ml bottle.
Editor’s rating: 90/100.
Find our South African wine ratings database here.
Iconic.
Where is South Africa’s Penfolds Grange? Penfolds itself was founded in 1844 and Max Schubert became the Australian company’s first chief winemaker in 1948 at the age of 33. After an information-gathering trip to Europe in 1950, he set out to make a particularly age-worthy wine from Shiraz. He was asked to show his efforts to senior management in 1957 but the wines made up until then were disliked and he was ordered to shut down the project. Undeterred, he continued to craft what was to become Grange in secret and by 1960, he got approval to begin again, 1952 being the first vintage to be released commercially.
Today it is one of the world’s most celebrated wines, the 2008 having rated 100 points in both Wine Spectator and Robert Parker’s Wine Advocate and the current-release 2013 selling for an average price of R8 052 a bottle according to Wine-searcher.com. To say that Grange is steeped in history is to put it mildly
South Africa is not short of its own winemaking history but we haven’t got near a Grange, which is to say a deluxe wine from a New World country which is desired around the world, made in meaningful volumes and comes with the marketing support of a major wine company (Penfolds today owned by Treasury Wine Estates, formerly the wine division of international brewing company Foster’s Group).
Chateau Libertas (maiden vintage 1940) and Roodeberg from KWV (maiden vintage 1949) must have been contenders at one point but no longer – current-release Chateau Lib sells for R49 a bottle from Makro and Roodeberg for R75. Alto Rouge (dating from the early 1920s) does not fare much better, currently available for R89 a bottle from the previously mentioned warehouse chain and online shopping hub.
On the Penfolds website is a quotation attributed to Schubert which reads “All winemakers should possess a good fertile imagination if they are to be successful in their craft” and while there are plenty of independent operators making startlingly inspired and original wines on a small scale, SA’s bigger wine companies still seem largely incapable of producing something to capture truly the world’s imagination.
Distell, DGB and KWV might all be relatively successful in commercial terms but you don’t yet have a sense that a Max Schubert lurks among their ranks. Razvan Macici, previously of Distell-owned Nederburg, arguably came close but he’s now making Sauvignon Blanc up the West Coast for Ormonde. Niël Groenewald left DGB’s Bellingham to take over from Macici at the end of last year and it’s going to take time for him to find his feet. Wim Truter left Distell’s Fleur du Cap to join KWV as chief winemaker at the end of 2016 but so far nothing game changing from this operation. DGB’s Bellingham The Bernard Series and Boschendal, meanwhile, are solid rather than anything else.
Perhaps our best chance of a Grange equivalent going forwards depends on those operations one tier down from the really big boys such as Boekenhoutskloof and Kanonkop. If you consider what both these two operations have that sets them apart, then it is winemaking personnel seemingly unconstrained by any corporate trappings – can the Boekenhoutskloof-owned Porseleinberg as made by Callie Louw or Kanonkop Black Label as made by Abrie Beeslaar conquer the world? There’s a long way to go but these two labels are probably the front runners when it comes to emulating Grange.
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