Tim James: Looking back from 25 to 100 years ago in Cape wine
By Tim James, 13 January 2025
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If you haven’t already heard the portentous rumblings, be warned that the next sentence is unquestionably not the last you’ll be hearing of this matter. A hundred years ago, pinotage was born, for in 1925, they say, Abraham Perold planted the first seeds from his experimental crossing of cinsaut and pinot noir. Worth celebrating indeed – if you’d read my columns in recent years you’ll see how enthusiastic I’ve been about, especially, the newer and somewhat lighter examples from this controversial variety.
But I might have to grit my teeth occasionally this year. One of the difficulties pinotage has had to overcome in getting a toenailhold on a decent international reputation is the way it has been crushingly invested with national (or, at least, white-South-African-Afrikaner) pride. This has affected its image as well as the oaky would-be grandeur with which it has traditionally mostly been made. The Pinotage Association website has a “Pinotage 100-Year Celebration” section, which declares prominently “We are Pinotage” and announces that pinotage is “not just a wine; it’s a legacy that carries our culture, craftsmanship, and pride across the globe”. So be prepared for much more of the same – but don’t hold it against the grape if you also don’t like that sort of nationalistic stuff.
Another wine-related centenary (in fact the only other significant one that occurs to me) is less immediately obvious as one to celebrate. In 1925, the Groot Constantia manor house was substantially destroyed by fire. The property was owned by the state (since 1885), but the model farm, which had had a few great moments but was mostly used to grow rootstocks for the phylloxera-ravaged industry as well as to make saleable wine, had dwindled into insignificance. The fire did usefully revive some government interest and the house was rebuilt (not as it was when burnt down, nor as it was when Simon van der Stel’s slaves built it in the late 17th century, but as it was “at its best”). It was able to gain importance as a museum and heritage site over the following decades. The land was leased out. But Constantia was significant to the post-1948 National Party government as a sign of the glories of white Protestant settlement, and the farmland reverted to the state in 1957; the project to revive the historic property continued, especially in the 1970s, when landholding was expanded – thus pretty certainly saving a substantial part of historic Constantia from suburbanisation and encouraging other wine farms. Perhaps if the manor house had not burnt down so dramatically in 1925, but had just mouldered into nothing, this might even not have happened.
Working with the major subsections of 100 years, we can look next at 1950 – but there’s nothing much I could find to celebrate a 75th birthday. The post-war years saw the finding of numerous co-ops, and 1950 was Bonnivale’s turn – though they didn’t bottle their own wines till 1977. There was an even bigger gap for the only other 1950 winery I could find – Somerbosch (named for its equidistance from Somerset West and Stellenbosch); first own-bottling was in 1995.
A rather more auspicious year was 1975, as you might expect from that decade of relative progress. As significant moves to raise quality levels and perceptions, both the Nederburg Auction and the Young Wine Show were founded. As to wineries, there’s a small clutch of 50th anniversaries to celebrate. Grand old Meerlust had its maiden vintage under its own name, with the 1975 Cab. So, possibly, did Boschendal. That’s the date given by Platter, but the Hughes and Hands South African Wine encyclopedia seems confident it was 1976. And as Platter is clearly wrong about saying that Rhebokskloof’s first bottling was 1975 (it fact it was 1989), for now I’ll leave Boschendal off the list too (must follow up on that). Although Platter is certainly correct in another case: the first Zandvliet Shiraz was 1975 (not 1976 as Hughes and Hands claim).
A particularly important 50th anniversary is that of the establishment of Hamilton Russell Vineyards as the pioneer of modern winemaking in the Hemel-en-Aarde – with the splendid sequel that we see still unfolding today. In fact, Tim Hamilton-Russell’s tackling of the authorities was widely significant, and after the HRV wines started being released in 1981 (under a bewildering array of names and with vintages surreptitiously indicated in the early years), it became clear that this was also the first indication of ambitious winemaking anywhere outside the traditional areas of the Cape.
The story of Cape wine was hugely different 25 years later, and on the cusp of becoming almost unimaginably so. Perhaps the millennium pushed more new producers into setting up their businesses or bottling their first wines, but the year 2000 saw a remarkable number of new establishments and maiden bottlings – many more than 1999, for example. Too many to mention here, in fact (and congratulations to all on their 25th anniversary), but amongst those doing both were Dorrance, Clairvaux, False Bay, Raats and Luddite.
Establishments in 2000 included Plettenberg Bay pioneer Bramon, Constantia Glen, Diemersfontein, Havana Hills, Hermit on the Hill, Shannon, Stellar, Tempel,The Foundry and Tamboerskloof. Maiden bottled vintages were brought in by Cape Point Vineyards, Ernie Els, Lammershoek, Lands End, Naudé, Rudera, and, last but scarcely least, Sadie.
Looking forward rather than back: there’s much gloom in the wine world internationally as it copes with declining consumption and increasingly grim and threatening health warnings. But may things go well for all us wine lovers in 2025, whether we grow, make, sell or serve the stuff, or merely (responsibly but happily) drink it.
- 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.
Tim James | 3 February 2025
Donald – What I called “white-South-African-Afrikaner” was internationally mostly reviled for much of the 20th century (and I wouldn’t say that that moment is entirely over) and anything that was branded as particularly associated with that was bound to suffer. Nothing to do with my opinion, or a judgement, but a pretty obvious fact, I’d say. (It’s affected local brandy’s image too, I suspect). As to “Afrikaner” – yes indeed. Again just part of an objective description; this has historically been basically an Afrikaans industry, with white Afrikaners at its peak (ownership, making, management, etc). If you think this helped its image in the old days, you’re welcome to think that. I myself don’t, but I have frequently enough mentioned my pleasure at, eg, the re-introduction of Afrikaans labels in recent years, as a nice assertion of tradition in these different times.
Donald Griffiths | 3 February 2025
Not sure I understand the comment about Pinotage struggling to get a toenailhold in international markets because of crushing national pride? It is after all a uniquely South African cultivar and surely one to be proud of, despite the fact that it hasn’t always been made to suit everyone’s tastes? The comment about White South African Afrikaners is also quite a strange one as without this particular section of our Rainbow Nation there probably wouldn’t be a wine industry, never mind drinkable Pinotage, to speak of at all!