Editorial: Wine and the obsession with newness

By , 29 October 2024

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Paul Clüver Family Wines, Elgin. Established in 1896, first bottling in own cellar took place in 1997.

Anxious not to cause offence, Paul Clüver Jnr, MD of Paul Clüver Family Wines in Elgin, nevertheless proceeded to wonder aloud to his audience if the wine media is not lazy in its obsession with the new. He was speaking at the launch of the latest vintages of the top-end Seven Flags range, the Chardonnay from the 2023 vintage and the Pinot Noir from 2021, his concern being that because the range is relatively well-established, it doesn’t generate quite the excitement it used to.

The maiden vintage of Seven Flags Pinot Noir was 2006 while its companion Chardonnay followed in 2014. “We ask ourselves: How can we be good in a global context? And how can we prove it year in and year out?” he says. “We could experiment with Assyrtiko, Pinot Blanc or Gamay but it would take five years at the earliest to get the wine out and 10 years to make something good.” Instead, he says, the team is looking for continuous improvement, realising that any quality gains will become smaller and smaller over time but that the commitment to this process needs to be unwavering.

The modern wine world holds an obsession with newness – regions that are just coming into the spotlight, new vintages, new trends, and new winemakers. Not just media, but trade and consumers chase novelty, looking for “the next big thing” in wines. The Swartland Revolution which ran from 2010 to 2015 seems a long time ago and today areas like Ceres Plateau and Sutherland-Karoo are gaining attention. The depth and richness of established winemaking districts such as Stellenbosch, Constantia and Durbanville are overshadowed. Even within Stellenbosch, previously unheralded Polkadraai Hills is suddenly far more hip than the Simonsberg…

Nobody now rejects the notion of vintage variation in the South African context (in fact it’s difficult to imagine growing seasons being more diverse than they have been over the last decade) and yet the scores of critics of the same producers vary little from one year to the next. Why? Because everybody has an interest in what’s new and it doesn’t help if the new release is markedly poorer than the previous.

As for producers, little remains fixed. Everybody wanted Rustenberg, Thelema and Vergelegen in their cellars in 2000. Now it’s Boschkloof, David & Nadia and Rall.

To some extent, it’s about the constant push and pull between trade and consumers, what’s at stake being unique flavours and unusual experiences. It’s not too much of a stretch, however, to suggest that it goes deeper than this in that a certain sector of high-end consumers are actually looking for something to associate with because of what it says about them – drinking a certain type of wine positions them as progressive and alternative in a social sense. A rejection of conventional farming in favour of sustainable, organic, and biodynamic practices suggests a certain form of enlightenment and awareness. Small, innovative wineries practicing low-intervention or “natural” winemaking have especially captured the imaginations of younger, millennial drinkers eager for authenticity and new stories.

Paradoxically, newness in wine often translates to a rediscovery of ancient methods or grape varieties. Is regenerative agriculture revolutionary or simply how land was managed prior to 20th century? Whole-bunch fermentation, maturation under flor or the use of amphorae as winemaking vessels are resulting in wines with very different flavour profiles than 10 or 20 years ago but are ancient techniques in their own right.

Producers are also inclined to revive forgotten varieties – Chenin Blanc is now SA’s champion variety but it’s easy to forget how deeply out of fashion it was in the 1990s. Will Colombard undergo a similar upliftment?

The push for newness keeps wine vibrant and relevant (and at a time when global consumption is falling, this is vital) but it also has its problems. For one thing, it creates pressure for winemakers, often rewarding those who prioritize quick buzz over substance – one manifestation of this is the constant range extensions that even South Africa’s leading winemakers seem compelled to implement.

Also, wines are now released excessively early – it might be argued that the market ultimately decides but it is surely not entirely appropriate that wines from the likes of Alheit, Sadie and Savage reach buyers quite as soon as they do.

Then, there’s the issue of exaggerated flavours. Here, the rise of abominable coffee-chocolate Pinotage is a case in point. Another is “orange wine”, which is too often funky for the sake of funky, even if it is intended to appeal to an entirely different market segment.

When people start treating their wine purchases like it’s a new iPhone, a lot gets lost. In a world that celebrates novelty, we see old wines often underappreciated or even dismissed, particularly by younger audiences who aren’t familiar with the pleasures that an extended period of bottle maturation brings.

Back to the launch of Seven Flags and Clüver is not wrong to lament the shallow engagement with wine that exists in many quarters. Instead of developing a lasting appreciation for the unique qualities of a particular variety or terroir, drinkers move quickly from one new fad to the next, missing out on deeper knowledge and enjoyment. We are all somewhat guilty of this “drinking and ditching”, which can cheapen the experience, erasing the opportunity for a meaningful connection with certain wines or producers. And on that note, I may just open an older bottle of Seven Flags tonight, allowing for some contemplation on the Clüver family’s vision for the Burgundian varieties grown under local conditions…

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    Tim James | 29 October 2024

    I think the connection between newness and media laziness is partly this: that it tends to be the new producers that bother with the media. For a while, that is, until they get established. Then most of them (not all – I can think of a few very loyal ones) just drop the people who helped them to get established. Most of the established producers don’t bother with the local media at least – some of the fancier foreign journalists, yes. And an energetic distributor like Ex Animo encourages publicity for their producers by feeding the media a bit (some of us a touch more generously than others, admittedly).

    There’s very little money in this business for journalists. And very little support of any kind from producers. It would be interesting, and no doubt depressing, to learn how many producers, new and old, subscribe to this website to keep it going. Probably about the same tiny proportion that bothered to buy my book on South African wine when it appeared a decade ago. A bit more support from “the industry” would help, and maybe there’d be a few more journalists with integrity.

    When an “old” producer bothers to encourage consumers and producers, the result is at least as much attention as to new producers. Withness Kanonkop. Within the last year I have visited, for example, two of the “forgotten” producers that Christian specifically mentions – Vergelegen and Thelema. But that happened at my initiative, not to mention at my expense (I did get paid for the resultant articles, but not by them).

    Incidentally, Thelema at least is doing just fine without much fanfare. There are vastly more bottles of Thelema Cab sold each year than the totality of production of a very large handful of the new and “exciting” producers. So let’s not exaggerate. I’m not a great believer in the virtues of the market in rewarding only the best, but I must confess it does function somewhat. It doesn’t just reward the new.

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