Thursday, April 25, 2013

Harry's Wine Guide | Chapter 7 of 8: Taking back some wine words!

Harry Haddon’s Incomplete And Unofficial Guide To The Hedonistic Pleasures Of The Grape

Chapter Seven: Taking back some wine words!



This week I am going to see if we can take back some wine words from the high-flying, supposedly pretentious, wine elite. Some of these words may have been banned on Real Time Wine at the outset, but I think they are useful, and illuminating. Well, they are only illuminating if explained. Like academics who can string together whole sentences of what looks like gobble-dee-gook and get a PhD out of it, wine writers can sometimes fall into the trap of talking about malolactic fermentation, aldehydes, balling, barriques and sulfites in a way that makes wine feel less like a rather nifty beverage, and more like science homework you’d rather not do. 

Terroir
Oh sod that, I’m not starting with bloody terroir.

Malolactic fermentation
In English this sounds horrid, I far prefer the French abbreviation, ‘le malo’. It’s a chemical process that occurs after a wine has gone through its initial alcoholic fermentation. Stronger Malic Acid is converted into Lactic acid. This is desirable in wines that have excessive acidity after fermentation. If a winemaker feels she doesn’t want to reduce the acidity by this process she will have to protect the wine from going through it naturally later in bottle. If you find a wine that is bubbly when it shouldn’t be, most likely it’s le malo. This is a fault and the wine should be sent back from whence it came.

Biodynamics
A somewhat controversial farming technique. Based on the writings of Rudolph Steiner (1861-1925) biodynamic farmers emphasize the importance of working with the movements of the planets and cosmic forces to achieve balance in the soils and vines. The viticulture is pretty much organic, but also employs natural herbal, mineral and organic preparations in the soil. An example of one of these consists of burying a cow horn filled with dung in the vineyard over winter. While many mock and assume these winemakers are high, have dreadlocks and enjoy trance parties, the results are out there. Locally, Reyneke is the best-known biodynamic producer, and they make ridiculously good wine.

Acidification (if you think it’s bad)
Acid Adjustment (if you think it’s OK)
Simply, this is the adding of acid (generally tartaric or citric acid) to grape juice, must or wine. It will usually happen in warmer climates where there is not enough natural acidity in the grapes to achieve a balanced final product. A healthy amount of acid in wine is good; it promotes freshness and fruitness, as well as protecting against bacteria, and improving colour. Depending on your tasting ability – and the heavy-handedness of acidification – you can taste the difference. The acidity in acidified wine seems to stand apart from the rest of wine, as opposed to wines with only natural acidity, where everything feels integrated. If anyone tells you South African wines have to have acid added, they are lying.  And you can tell them they should try out Biodynamics.

Balling
Despite its look and sound, this is not a South African word used by ruby playing winemakers to describe a really good wine. “Flip Jan, this wine is fokken balling!”

In fact it is a term used to denote a measurement of ripeness in grapes. Basically, 16.5 grams of sugar is needed to produce 1 percent of alcohol by fermentation. A balling reading indicates the percentage of solids in grape juice (remember 90% are sugars) by weight. So, if a winemaker is prattling on about a balling reading of 22 degrees, she means that the potential alcohol in the wine made from this juice will be around 12%, and a balling reading of 27 degrees will produce a wine with around 15% alcohol. Simple. You will most hear this term talking to winemakers who will tell you, “Ja, it was a lekker harvest, the grapes taste great, and we picked at around 24 balling.”

Champagne/Methode Cap Classique
Here is a hard and fast wine rule for you. If your sparkling wine is not made in Champagne, don’t call it champagne, because it is not. Simple.

We use the term Methode Cap Classique to indicate wine that’s been made in the traditional method (a secondary fermentation in bottle which produces all the lovely bubbles) rather than a soda stream method, which, just as it sounds, means injecting a still wine full of CO2. If you see Methode Cap Classique on a bottle you know it has been produced in the same method as the wines from Champagne, but is not, and never will be, Champagne.

Barrique
A French term for small oak barrels with a volume of 225l. First designed and used in Bordeaux, these are the most famous and most used oak barrels for wine production. South African wine marketers prefer this term over ‘small oak barrels’ because it makes their wines sound more French and sophisticated. The joke is on them, however, as they are more than likely producing over oaked, over-ripe wines that will last about as long as a Sunday afternoon.

Blind Tasting
Simply, tasting wines without knowing anything about them and then trying to guess what they are. A favourite game among wine nerds the world over. Much is said about sighted and blind tastings and the merits of both with relation to competitions and guidebooks. It is perhaps the most boring, stale, and over thought wine discussion in South Africa.

Blind tastings are a fun game to try with your friends, and can be vigorously educational if you care about such things. It is good for some competitions, and not as good for others. Case closed.

Phylloxera 
A small yellow root-feeding aphid that devastated the world’s vineyards in the late 1800s. It came from North America, and like most other unwanted American exports, spread rapidly. Thankfully, native American vine species have evolved with resistance to this little bastard. Today, by using American rootstocks – these resistant roots are grafted on to whatever variety of vine is needed – we are able to make wine without having to worry about this pest.  

Clones
Grape vines are rather prone to mutations. This means that you may have different vines of the same variety that are genetically different. Clones are cuttings taken from a mother vine – whose genetics are known – and sold to growers from a nursery. If you want to plant Chenin Blanc, you still have to choose which clone, as some will have shown to be better suited to your particular environment, or produce grapes with a desired characteristic.

Old Vines
You can spot how old a vine is by looking at its trunk, the wider the trunk the older the vine. Much is said about better quality wines being made from old-vines. Marketers love to drop ‘old vines’ into their pitch if they can, as if the age of the vine somehow magically imbues the wine with greatness. It doesn’t. Evidence seems to suggest that older vines do make better wines, but that just could be because it was always a good vine and there has been no reason to uproot it. Know one knows for certain yet, and there are no rules about having ‘old vines’ on a label.

Terroir
Oh dear, we are back here. Can’t avoid this bloody word. Like ‘old vines’ it’s used more to sell wines than to educate people about them. So be wary. That tomb of vinous knowledge, The Oxford Companion To Wine, succinctly describes terroir as “the total natural environment of any viticultural site”. It’s a quintessentially French term that suggests the complex interplay of soil, macroclimate, mesoclimate, vine microclimate and topography will be reflected in wines to some degree vintage to vintage, regardless of changing methods of viticulture and winemaking. Despite the fact the French had not conceived of anything so barbarous as coffee Pinotage when they coined the phrase, it is an immediately attractive idea.

Wine nerds are not satisfied with a great wine simply tasting fantastic, oh no, they want it to be able to taste where it’s from. It takes a very long time to work all this out – what should be planted where, and what the results are – it took the Burgundians (French folk, make a lot of Pinot Noir) 800 years, so if South African wine people start babbling at you about terroir, be careful, they are probably just trying to sell you something.

It is an important concept, one that should remain central to fine wine forever, but it is also woefully overused, and as such runs the risk of turning into one of those marvelous modern phrases like “genuine imitation” or “Money back guaranteed.”

Harry.


Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Win tickets to the Winter Sculpture Fair in Johannesburg (presented by MasterCard)



The Winter Sculpture Fair presented by MasterCard is set to showcase some of South Africa’s best contemporary sculpture, combined with the finest food and wine from Franschhoek on 4 and 5 May 2013 in Gauteng.

Taking place at the NIROX Sculpture Park, which is situated in a private nature reserve in the Cradle of Humankind, the Winter Sculpture Fair promises visitors an unmatched culinary and art experience in the country with friends and family.

Visitors can meander through the beautifully landscaped park, taking in the sculptures of the highly acclaimed ‘After the Rainbow Nation: 2013’ exhibition; savour exquisite food and wine produced by Franschhoek’s top chefs and winemakers and stock up on a range of quality goods  including cheeses, chocolates, and wine for winter.

Tickets cost R100, and are available through www.webtickets.co.za, with a 10% discount if they are purchased using a MasterCard card. Children under 12 are free.  For more information, visit www.wintersculpturefair.co.za; or follow @ArtlogicSA on twitter.

Win tickets

MasterCard is giving away 3 double tickets to the Winter Sculpture Fair to 3 lucky fans. Tickets are valid for Sunday, 5 May 2013 only. The Fair is open from 10h00 – 17h00.

Giveaway/competition closes on 29 April 2013.

Tickets are not transferable. Terms and conditions apply.

HOW TO ENTER: Leave a comment on our Facebook Post associated with this competition with your answer. Giveaway will only occur on Real Time Wine's Facebook comment stream. Answer this question: What does Wine and Sculpture mean to you? Include the tag "#Mastercard" in your comment.


Thursday, April 18, 2013

Harry's Wine Guide | Chapter 6 of 8: NATURE vs. NURTURE. Part 2: Nurture



Harry Haddon’s Incomplete And Unofficial Guide To The Hedonistic Pleasures Of The Grape

Chapter Six: NATURE vs. NURTURE. Part 2: Nurture



Wine. It’s a beautiful mysterious thing. All that is needed for it to come into being are grapes. Everything else, oak barrels, stainless steel tanks, temperature controlled cellars, fancy presses, micro-oxygenation and reverse-osmosis machines are all add-ons, extras and aids, none are needed to make wine.

A grape stands out among other fruits for the hefty amount of sugar in its juice; nearly 30% of juice in a ripe grape is made up of sugar. Sugar is the key, fermentation the lock, and yeast the hand that turns it.

Yeasts – whether those found in the cellar and vineyard, or those added by a winemaker – love sugar. It’s what they live for. As soon as the skin on a grape splits and the sugary juice seeps out, those voracious little buggers are at it. The by-product of all this sugar consumption by yeast is alcohol and carbon dioxide. This, simply, is fermentation. A seemingly straightforward chemical reaction that gives us our Syrahs and Chenins, our Sauvignon Blancs and Merlots, Ports and Sherries, Champagne, Ice-wine, Pinotages and Beaujolais; it creates, shapes and works its magic upon grape juice to give us the most diverse, enthralling and deeply satisfying beverage in the history of our species. Say a little prayer of thanks for fermentation before you go to bed tonight.

Fermentation stops when the sugar runs out and the yeasts die of starvation, or when the alcohol levels get too high and the yeasts basically get shozzled and pass out under the table. At this point you have a wine.

It’s really that simple. What’s difficult is ending up with one worth drinking, ageing, or selling.

A winemaker’s task is to gently take the grapes the vines have produced on an adventure from bunches on a vine through to bottled product. The better quality the grape, the less the winemaker should have to do.

For dry white wines the general modus operandi is to have the grapes sorted, and removed from the stalks once they arrive at the cellar. These partly crushed berries then find their way into a wine press. This can be as old-school as a basket with a hand-turned press, or the modern contraptions made up of a cylinder with a slowly inflating balloon that gently presses the grapes. Gentle presses force out the juice without breaking the pips that contain rather nasty tasting substances.

Now we have grape juice. This juice is run into any number of containers made of wood, fiberglass, stainless steel, or cement. The winemaker then decides whether to add cultured yeasts, or let the wild yeasts present in the vineyard and cellar do the work of fermentation. The benefits to the winemaker of adding specific, cultured yeasts are that the results are predictable, and she can choose a strain that emphasizes certain aromas and flavours. Native, wild yeasts are unpredictable, and will differ from year to year, but can give more complexity and interest to the wine.

Let’s leave our fermenting white wine, and take a look at how red wine gets to the same place.

When red grapes arrive at the cellar, the winemaker will also, generally, sort and de-stem the berries, before crushing them and moving the whole lot to fermentation vessels. This mix of skins, juice, and sometimes stalks, is called the must. It is neither grape juice nor wine.

It is this time in a red wine’s life that colour arrives. Colour in wine comes from the skins of grapes. And it is while the juice is mixed up with all the skins that colour leeches out. As fermentation is taking place in say, a big, open-topped, wooden vat, the carbon dioxide that is the other by-product of fermentation bubbles up through the must pushing all the skins to the top. This layer of skins is called a cap. The winemaker can now manage how much colour (and other goodies released from the skin) ends up in the wine by either regularly pouring the juice over the skins (pump-overs), or by pushing down the cap back into the juice (punch-downs).

Once the fermentation has been completed and the winemaker is happy with the amount of goodness that has been extracted from the skins, the wine is run off into vessels for maturation. The leftover skins are pressed, and this extra juice is called ‘press wine’ that is matured separately and used for blending later.

Still with me?

Right. So now we have dry red and white wine. The yeasts have eaten all the sugar, our fermentation has run smoothly to completion, and we have the right amount of colour, flavours and tannins from the skin in our red wine.

If the wine is going to be aged in barrel, this is time it gets transferred there. Oak barrels require an obsession and book of their own. Where the trees are planted, how old they are when cut down, how the oak is seasoned, and who makes the barrels all will have an effect on the wine that is stored in them.

Oak barrels do two main things. Firstly, as the wine ages inside them, there is a small exchange of gases through the pores of the oak. This softens the astringency of young wine, and reduces fresh primary flavours. New oak also adds flavour to wine, most noticeably, vanilla. The amount and types of flavours introduced to the wine depend on how old the barrel is, and how it was toasted. To make a wooden barrel, the oak must be bent into shape over a fire, the more fire treatment the wood receives the more toasted it is. The higher the toast of a barrel, the more dark roasted coffee, chocolate flavours it will give. Lighter toasted barrels will give more pronounced ‘oak’ flavours.

A new barrel will give off the most flavour as the oak and toast are fresh. For every vintage used the amount of flavours imparted will decrease until about fours years on when the barrels become pretty much neutral; although still useful for ageing wines where oak flavours are not desired.

The size of barrel also plays a role. The smaller the barrel the more wine there is in contact with wood, so the effect is more pronounced.

When the winemaker is happy that the wines have aged enough in barrel – from a few months to a few years – she will blend the wine. Even if the wine being made is made of a single variety, a blend of different barrels or tanks will be made. It’s part science and part painting; with each of the barrels available like colours on a palette playing different roles in the final product.

When the blend has been assembled the winemaker might filter the wine to ensure there are no nasties left that may affect its development. A final decision of whether to use cork or screw-cap is made (a debate for another day) before the marketing team try and sell the bloody stuff.

For every variety, and blended wine, each of these steps (and some that I have left out) must be handled differently. Should the grapes be fermented whole bunch? Should some grapes be co-fermented? What temperature will the fermentation happen at? Do acid or sugar need to be added?

Throughout all of this a winemaker should have a clear picture of the wine she wants to make, and use all the means at her disposal to gently guide what nature has given her to reflect this imagined wine. That’s one view.

Another view is that the wine maker’s job is to let nature decide what the wine should be like. Great wine is made in the vineyard, don’t you know. The idea is that perfect grapes, left pretty much alone, will end up being brilliant wine. The winemaker as more of a chaperone than artist.

Either way there is some nurturing going on, and just like with people, there is hardly any agreement on how it should be done. Apart from, of course, how the final product tastes.


Harry.



Possibly the funniest Real Time Wine review ever...

We had to celebrate this as a post. Happened last night at #TasteHautEspoir (one of our virtual Twitter tastings). The Haut Espoir Shiraz 2006 may now live in infamy as the beginning of a wine review meme.

It seems iPhones may auto correct "white pepper" to "white people". Real Time Wine Fan @konfytbekkie has asked for us to edit it. We refuse. It's too good :)


What made it funnier was how quickly Rob Armstrong from Haut Espoir jumped on it and updated his tasting notes. The official ones. If you look quick, they may still be there :)




Thursday, April 11, 2013

Harry's Wine Guide | Chapter 5 of 8: NATURE vs. NURTURE. Part 1: Nature


Harry Haddon’s Incomplete And Unofficial Guide To The Hedonistic Pleasures Of The Grape

Chapter Five: NATURE vs. NURTURE. Part 1: Nature

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All right folks, here we go. Knowledge time. Sit up straight, eyes to the front, “Kenneth! Stop sleeping”, pen and paper out, class begins.

The life of a wine from plant to glass is a complex story. Hugh Johnson, one of the greatest wine writers, puts it best:

The plot starts with vines insinuating their roots into the soils of a thousand different fields, feeding on what they encounter in the ground, rock, or sand, wet or dry, lean and hungry, or fat enough to grow marrows. It ends with the air in a glass rising to meet your nostrils and your mouth to leave an impression on your mind. The two are intimately, directly, inevitably linked –via a chain of events that can go this way or that in numberless, ceaseless variations. On some nano-scale of infinite variety everything is recorded. Like the wings of a butterfly in the rain-forest, a passing shower or a spore of fungus can tip a balance that eventually makes you decide to order another bottle – or not. 

For winemakers wanting to create quality wines, wines that you order another bottle of, they don’t want just any grapes. They long, come harvest time, for perfectly ripe, small berries. To achieve this perfection (which of course, this being wine, is not universally agreed upon, and will also depend on what type of wine is being made), the right varieties must be planted; the climate, and soils must be suitable for that variety; the vines must be managed correctly; and, each year the, ideal growing conditions met.

If all goes to plan (and it hardly ever does), the winemaker must take these precious, beautiful berries, and not screw up all these years of work with bad decisions in the cellar. Remember this winemaker’s saying, “you can make a shit wine from great grapes, but never a great wine from shit grapes.” Think of it as nature vs. nurture. Where nature is what happens in the vineyard, and nurture what goes on in the cellar. In this and the next chapter we are going to dip our little toes into these waters of nature and nurture, starting with nature.

The question we can try and limit ourselves to here is what is this perfect grape? It is, as usual, not entirely straight forward.

The berries of the grapevine contain pretty much everything needed to make wine: the sugars needed for fermentation, the acidity for balance and longevity, the pigments for colour, the tannins for structure and long-life, and the chemical compounds for complexity of flavour.  Everything that happens to the vine will have an effect on these components, and as a result effect the wine.

The species of vine we get our grapes from is called vitis vinifera, and each of the hundreds of different varieties of this species has its own quirks and traits. Some ripen earlier than others, some are more resistant to certain pests and so on, but for each of them the winemaker is hoping for optimally ripe grapes, and not too many of them

We all know what ripeness is. We know that a banana is ripe when it’s yellow, and unripe when it’s green. But is a little bit of green OK? What about when black spots start appearing, when is it too ripe? I have no idea; I hate bananas. The point is there is not an exact point of perfect ripeness. As grapes develop on a vine in summer and ripen into autumn, sugar levels increase. If it is too hot, for example, the sugar levels can rise to a point where the wine will end up having head banging levels of alcohol, but the grapes have not yet fully ripened, and – hat tip to Captain Obvious – have unripe flavours.

Many factors will contribute to the ripening of grapes, most obviously, climate. What vines need is a mild, wet winter, an early spring, a warm, dry summer without drought, and a late autumn, with even not-too-hot temperatures that allow for longer ‘hang-time’ on the vine, and more time for the grapes, stalks and seeds to ripen properly. Essentially you need the right balance of sugar and acidity, and no unripe flavours in the grapes.

Also important is how many grapes the vine produces. Think of a vine as having a limited capacity of flavour. If you have too many grapes on a vine, that amount of flavour will be split between all the grapes resulting in less intensity in the finished wine. However, our imagined ‘flavour capacity’ can be managed with modern viticultural techniques to allow for larger yields without compromising on quality.

One of the factors that influence the yields of a vine is the soil. Most agree that what is of greatest importance when it comes to soil is how much water it can hold. Vines, you see, need to struggle, but just a bit. Like people. Too much struggle and a person is want to give up, no hardship at all, and a person has a rather lopsided view of reality.

If vines have access to too much water they’ll drink and drink producing too many grapes, essentially diluting the wine. If there is too little water the vine will say, “no thanks, I’m off” and shut down, with photosynthesis and the ripening process coming to a halt.

Ideally, vines need well-drained soils that have just the right supply of water for whichever variety is planted in whatever climatic conditions. For example, areas with higher rainfall need soils with better drainage, and areas with lower rainfall need soils with better water retention. Irrigation is used to make up for a lack of water, but that presents another host of techniques, decisions and problems that we do not have space for today.

We have barely scratched the surface of – in fact we have merely stroked – what happens in the vineyard. How a vine is pruned in winter, the altitude of a vineyard, how the leaves or canopy are managed to foster or reduce photosynthesis, the density of plantings in a vineyard, and how pests and diseases are managed all contribute, to the ripeness and condition of the grapes, and logically to the final product in your glass. Each factor affects the others, meaning that every vineyard faces its own unique set of challenges. Making truly great wine is then, some sort of treacherous balancing act with the gods trying to trip you up at every turn. This is why there is more crap wine than good wine, really.

But just like we want balanced wine in our glass, the vineyard needs to be balanced and happy. Too much sun, too much rain, soil that is overly fertile, too many grapes, not enough grapes, all suggest imbalance, and as such, unbalanced wines.

This chapter was never going to make you a viticulturalist, or ensure that you pick better wines of the shelf, but rather to show the myriad of factors that inevitably contribute to that all important phrase, “waiter, another bottle please.”

Next week we will do the same, but this time fondle gently the topic of winemaking, and hopefully it will help make a little more sense of what was touched on in this chapter. You see, just like people, it is very difficult to separate nature and nurture.

Harry.



Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Harry's Wine Guide | Chapter 4 of 8: Down with scores and up with drinking: Harry's kak en lekker scale of wine

Harry Haddon’s Incomplete And Unofficial Guide To The Hedonistic Pleasures Of The Grape

Chapter Four: Down with scores and up with drinking: Harry's kak en lekker scale of wine

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Hopefully after the first three chapters we are all loving wine, drinking it more than ever, identifying differences, decanting, getting the temperature right, creating rituals, having a great time, laughing, drinking, popping corks with reckless abandon, and most of all fostering a great wealth of joie de vivre with wine at the centre. Too much to hope? Perhaps.

We are teetering on the edge of a diving board now. Below us is a pool of terms, varieties, winemaking techniques and more. We are bouncing on the board. Crouch, jump, thwack, crouch, jump, thwack. The board bends. But before we take this leap, I want us to pause and have a laugh, a laugh at the ridiculous world of wine scores, medals, and competitions.

Maybe you haven’t come across them yet, but if you drink wine for long enough, you will. I find them all too silly. Useful to some, I guess, but really just marketing schmaltz.

Assessing wine is part of the fun. We do it every time we taste and start looking for difference, and then work out whether we like it or not. But do we really need to drink in a world filled with scores out of 20, scores out of 100, bronze, silver and gold medals, a world, in my opinion that takes us further from enjoyment and closer to vanity.

The best wines made cannot be scored, and the worst do not need to be. So why do we do it? Why is the world obsessed with gold medals, trophies and 100 point wines?

Because wine is drunk over time – either a case of wine drunk a bottle at a time over years to observe the magic of maturation, or a bottle over a few days – the momentary snap judgment that a score or a medal reveals is problematic. A judge giving a quick score to a one wine among as many as a hundred.

What does a 96 point wine mean, really? Or a Double gold medal? It certainly does not mean you will enjoy it. These scores are generally given in an environment that is fundamentally different from the context in which the wine will be enjoyed. And while they do offer a rough guideline, help to the stranded and helpless supermarket shopper, they will never ever be a replacement for personal exploration and investigation.

Wine, at its most sublime and most excellent comes closer to art than mere utilitarian beverage. Do we score Picasso? Does Dali get an 89/100 or 93/100 for The Persistence of Memory? Do we assess paintings by writing down a list of the different colours used in the painting? No, so why do we do this with wine? Why do people all over the world insist on writing a list of wine flavours, and assigning a score out of a hundred? How does this help us enjoy wine?

Scores are a means of broadly placing wines into categories of quality. The best use for these descriptions and scores is a personal one. For you to keep track of the wines you drink and what you think of them. So if you have the bottle again in the future you can go back and see if your experience is different.

You can even make up your own scale, or just use mine. I give you,

Harry’s Kak en Lekker Scale of Wine. 

Fokken Kak

Broken, faulty, disgusting, even bergies and students will not drink it.

Kak

Drunk happily by alcoholics, students and people with no sense of smell. Served at cheese and wines evenings where the only cheese is Pick n’ Pay Cheddar, and the goal is inebriation. Not just cheap and nasty wines are Kak; pricey wines can have teeth shattering tannins, reflux causing acidity, and splinters-in-your -tongue oak, and that could mean they are Kak.

Lekker Kak

You swallow it without fighting or gagging, but it is forgettable. It’s as interesting as Top Billing and about as much fun as a school outing to a paper-clip factory – inconceivably boring, but at least you are not at school. Don’t serve it to me.

Lekker

You can finish a bottle yourself. There are different elements working in your nose and mouth. Effort has gone into this wine’s creation. You are not embarrassed when opening it at a dinner, and if your friends are used to Lekker Kak wines they will comment on how ‘lovely’ it is. Basically this wine has elements of complexity, deliciousness, balance, and interestingness, but not really that memorable.

Fokken Lekker

Bearing your stained teeth to the world with pride, this is a wine that makes you smile. It is a Lekker wine, but well read, better looking, more wit and class, added flair and nuance; at its worst you happily sip away, at best you cradle it in your arms and whisper to it as you nurse it slowly to the end.

Kak Lekker

More complex than Boolean algebra, more layers than a Coetzee novel, with a colour that would make Rothko smile, all coming together with the balance and harmony of a Brahms symphony, a Tom Curran front-side barrel, or a Hashim Amla cover drive; a gobsmackingly orgasmically good wine.

Fokken Kak Lekker

Not sure if this is possible. I haven’t tasted one, but when I do I’ll probably weep.

OK, so I originally wrote that somewhat satirically. The point of this chapter was to hopefully spur you on to independence. Don’t rely on labels, stickers and scores. Don’t let your palate be influenced by an 18/20 score, two gold medals, or somebody shouting at you that this is “THE BEST DAMMNED PINOT IN THE COUNTRY”.

Critic’s descriptions and scores, competition medals and Platter stars can be useful, but they are very far from absolutes. Use them only as a rough guide. Before we take that dive into vinous knowledge you need to start trusting your own palate, tasting as much as you possibly can all the time, and working out your scale, justifying it along the way. Down with scores, and up with drinking.

Harry.