Tim James: The wines, scenic splendour and luxuries of Quoin Rock

The controversies and scandals once surrounding the Stellenbosch estate Quoin Rock – before the current regime I hastily add – are fun to recall, but not to be much indulged here. I mentioned some of them (from the SARS-forced sale of the property, hitherto owned by “shameless liar” and tax dodger Dave King, via its auction to Wendy Appelbaum, the sale cancelled because of apparent sharp practice by the auctioneers) when I reported on my 2015 visit to Quoin Rock. That was during the brief tenure of the eminent Chris Keet as cellar master and viticulturist – which soon transformed into his appointment as a consultant (still obtaining).

So, one billionaire pulled back and another one came in. In fact it seemed for an uncertain moment that Quoin Rock had been sold to nightclub king and ex-convict Kenny Kunene and a Ukrainian businessman, Denis Aloshyn, but (fortunately, I feel!) things soon somehow resolved into what we know now: that it was bought by another Ukranian industrialist (and former Deputy Prime Minister of Ukraine), Vasiliy Gaiduk in 2012. Mr Gaiduk is a serious wine lover, who’d been looking around the world for a wine property and was seduced by Stellenbosch during a chance visit. As well he might have been, as anyone who visits these magnificent slopes on the Simonsberg, not to mention the estate’s associated property in Aghulhas (from where Quoin Rock actually got its name), could attest.

Vasiliy’s son Denis became the Quoin Rock CEO. And this has clearly been an excellent thing for reestablishing the brand and building new foundations for it. Work started immediately on doing what was most necessary – fixing infrastructure like dams and restoring or replanting vineyards that had been neglected. Modernising the cellar came next, and some great designing of public spaces by Denis’s architect wife Yuliya Gaiduk (who’s credited as the winery’s Visionary, with a range of image responibilities). The neighbouring farm, Knorhoek, was puchased later and the two properties reintegrated – Quoion Rock had in fact been a subdivison from Knorhoek in 1998.

Having the priorities right was a good sign – as, in fact, was the fact that it seemed to take a good few years to offer a portfolio of wines and to open to the public. It was only in 2018, six years after the purchase, that an article, presumably an advertorial, on wine.co.za appeared entitled A New Era in Winelands Luxury as Quoin Rock Reopens. It quoted Denis Gaiduk’s ambition: “The philosophy of the company is to build one of the best wineries in South Africa…. From the beginning we said that there would be no compromise on quality.” The 2019 Platter’s Guide, after a few years of mere teasers, rated pretty favourably a range of wines – most of whose names, six years later we would actually not recognise, suggesting that it was in fact a rather tentative “reopening”.

Apart from the stated aim of quality, the mention of luxury in that article’s title is significant, however, as it has become clear that this concept (and orientation) is central to the new Quoin Rock. The website makes that clear enough, with overblown language and chic design – and even the winemaker, dragged from his barrels and tanks, wearing a black suit! I confess that in the past few years I have resisted PR/media invitations from the estate because they seemed to indicate (giving a dress code – white and gold was it? – for a launch of their bubbly on a yacht in Table Bay Harbour, I recall) an orientation to bling and ostentation that didn’t seem to me to promise particularly well for the wines, or the conversation for that matter.

I was pleased, though, to get an invitation from Marketing Manager Kris Snyman to make a proper visit, and spent a morning with him, Denis Gaiduk and winemaker Schalk Opperman – whom I’d last met when he was doing good work at a rather different setup, Lammershoek in the Swartland; he arrived here in 2020. Viticulturist Nico Walters was unfortunately ill, but the rest of the team was able to tell me useful stuff as we drove around the extensive property. It really is an extraordinarily beautiful place, much of it left wild (there is some clearance of alien vegetation); I saw a herd of wagyu cattle on a hillside, and some large orchards of espaliered almond trees in full, fragrant blossom – Denis spoke of the need to diversify income streams.

We made for the Knorhoek homestead and there, on a stoep in idyllic surroundings (not a touch of bling!), tasted a good selection of the range. No bling in the wines either; they struck me as very good, mostly restrained, and responsive to the terroirs they come from – including, of course, Agulhas for some of the whites. Bubbles to start: the pinot-based Festive Series Cap Classique, succulently delicious and fresh and dry enough; and the Black Series 2018, a more equal blend of pinot and chardonnay, five years on lees adding to the rich but lively and complex dryness – an impressve wine.

There are two wines from the Knorhoek vineyards, labelled as such, and designed to express “heritage and tradition”. They are less expensive than the Quoin Rock ranges (“international fine wine”, by contrast), and in fact count as pretty good value. The Chenin Blanc 2023, from a 1980-planted vineyard, pleasingly combines stoniness with peachy fruit – and rather unnecessary oak notes; very tasty and with some depth (R245). The Knorhoek Cabernet Sauvignon 2021 (R325, but I believe it’s due for a price rise) has pure and full fruit with well integrated oak, and is decently structured and properly dry.

The Quoin Rock Black Series are generally pricier. The Chardonnay 2021, at R495, is not over-ambitiously so for the quality. Like the Knmorhoek Chenin, there’s a third new oak but better integrated (a few years helps, of course). It’s lively and fresh at 12.5% alcohol, yet not without a touch of winning richness in its subtle unshowiness. We didn’t taste the Nicobar sauvignon from Agulhas, but I was pleased to hear that this once rather famous label is being revived.

As to the reds, the Shiraz 2019 seemed to me standard older-style-Stellenbosch – ripe and rich and dark-fruited, with a touch of sweetness to the finish. (I wonder if Schalk’s Swartland experience with this variety is going to push future vintages in a lighter, fresher direction.) But undeniably attractive and approachable. I more admired and enjoyed the cab-driven Red Blend 2019, with its subtle, fresh aromas – a dry-leafy fragrance hinting at the cab franc component. The tannins nicely in place, but already very approachable, the whole rather elegant, with a sufficiently dry finish. (Schalk later gave me a bottle of the 2021 to take home, when I said that I tended to prefer a little more tannic-grunt, and that younger wine did indeed have it; it was lovely to drink, especially on the second night.) These reds are R750.

A final pleasure was the Vine-Dried Sauvignon Blanc 2024 (R1100 per half bottle), one of the loveliest straw wines I’ve had – fresh and poised in its unchallenging sweetness, charming and precise.

I suspect that the coming years will see the prices of the wines rising, to fit in better with the establishing Quoin Rock image. Rich people expect, and want, to pay more for their wines. The whole package – tasting venues with careful experiences for visitors, fine food and grand accommodation and function facilities, all set among the vast beauty of the environment  – is implacably luxurious in its excellence, and breathes expensiveness, intended only for the rich and demanding. This is still a comparatively rare Napa-type situation in South Africa, with Leeu Estate and Leeu Passant wines in Franschhoek already there, for example. There’s no reason why the Quoin Rock wines, not totally ready yet, should not come to that party.

• 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.