MICHAEL FRIDJHON: Chardonnay is always the bridesmaid, never the bride

SA always promoted itself as red wine country. Before the 1980s, when more than 70% of the national vineyard was planted to white varieties, the only cultivar that mattered was cabernet sauvignon — even though it represented less than 3% of the plantings.

Red wines were made from cinsaut, with a splash of cab, pinotage or shiraz to add colour or the impression of vinosity. Chenin dominated the whites — at one stage it accounted for about a third of all our vineyards. Not far behind were the grapes used to make brandy: colombard, ugni blanc and clairette blanche.

This began to change in the 1970s and 1980s. That was when sauvignon blanc, chardonnay, merlot, pinot noir and cabernet franc made their presence felt. Despite the arrival of so-called international white varieties, red cultivars generally held sway. Of course, fruit from the sauvignon blanc and chardonnay vines was as much in demand as merlot and the new cabernet clones, but the on-shelf prices (except for the brief era of a chardonnay shortage in the early 1980s) revealed a huge interest differential. Even the most prestigious whites sold for less than half the price of the most favoured reds.

This situation still prevails. We’ve rediscovered our chenin heritage (and the best-known examples fetch respectable enough prices). High-end sauvignon and sauvignon blanc blends are commercially profitable at lower price points (because of higher yields and shorter maturation cycles).

Chardonnay keeps ticking along. It survived the Anything But Chardonnay crisis of the 1990s, it’s fallen in and out of fashion more than once, and it performs better than almost everything we produce. At the 2024 Investec Trophy Wine Show international judge and critic Lisa Perrotti-Brown considered the category the standout feature of the competition.

But chardonnay is always the bridesmaid and never the bride. Ask wine-savvy commentators which white variety they come to the Cape to taste and they are bound to say “chenin blanc”. This is both a function of its old vine heritage and that for more than a decade we have beaten the French at their own game. SA chenin has more sex appeal than almost everything offered by the Loire. When will fine wine consumers worldwide come to recognise that our finest chardonnays deliver more (and for substantially less) than their Burgundian counterparts?

A 10-vintage vertical of the Capensis wines made by Graham Weerts for America’s biggest chardonnay producer, Kendall Jackson, offers a vision that might well tilt the stacked playing field more in our favour. Capensis is both a property and a brand. The heart of the wine goes into its flagship cuvée (less than 1,000 cases, of which 80% are exported) and comes from a site at the top of Helshoogte. Fruit from as far afield as the Tradouw Highlands and Elandskloof contributes to the blend.

Every vintage, from the maiden 2013 to the 2022, suggests that despite the presence of wines from more distant vineyards in the blend (or perhaps because of them) Capensis is to Cape chardonnay what Penfolds Grange is to Australian shiraz. But unlike Grange, the purity of the Capensis fruit takes precedence over the oak. Mostly it’s invisible but present, like the shadow of past lovers at a wedding — a crucial part of their becoming who they are at that moment but without any future claim.

None of the 10 vintages was disappointing. All were still lively and seemingly ready for the long haul that separates great wine from mere indulgence. The maiden 2013 is still energetic; the 2016 was for me the best wine in the line-up (and there is still stock available at the tasting room). The 2020 is equally fabulous, while the 2022 offers the promise of a long and gracious future after the heart-stopping pleasure of a mad, bad and much-extended youth.

At around R1,000 a bottle, Capensis is not an everyday drink, but, like a Bugatti, it wasn’t made to fetch the kids from school.

This column originally appeared in Business Day.