‘Wine cheers the sad, revives the old, inspires the young, makes weariness forget his toil.’ – Lord Bryon
Just this week, I gratefully left the cold and soggy shores of the UK, and landed in the distinctly warmer Western Cape of South Africa. My first full day back was heralded with pouring rain – real cats and dogs stuff – but at least the temperature had improved by a good 10-12° from that at Heathrow.
The husband had already been back here for a month, so we had deliberately scheduled a weekend away in the balmy wine region of Stellenbosch. It was a designated period for catching up and regrouping; easing that inevitable bump of recalibration that is always required after time apart.
We read books, watched movies, ate some delicious food, talked a lot and laughed a great deal as well. And, being so close to some of the worlds best vineyards, it would have been both rude and remiss to not take advantage of at least some of them. Since I am in the enviable position of having a husband who simply doesn’t like either the smell or the taste of alcohol, I have a permanently designated driver. Fortunately, he does enjoy a fine view, a reasonable coffee, a sommelier who knows how to present their wares as well as tell a good story, and hanging out with me. Since most vineyards here can offer us all four if we pitch up, that’s a definite win for both of us.
After referring to a list I had made on my phone some time ago, I chose from the vast number of establishments at which a tasting can be enjoyed for the equivalent of a couple of English pounds. Honestly, I was recently invited to a wine tasting in Bath by a local supplier who was charging over £25 per person for the privilege of quaffing a paltry amount of just three European wines. This weekend, I paid R90 (£4) to taste five excellent red wines at a vineyard I have wanted to visit for some time. There, Percy, our sommelier, not only regaled us with some great stories, but included an MCC Brut plus two extra wines in the personalised tasting. Bearing in mind that I am a lightweight in this department, I was slightly nervous about this. Fortunately we only needed to go around the corner for lunch. The husband has not yet had to carry me bodily from any of the vineyards we’ve visited (phew!).
The usual routine is that you are welcomed more or less warmly, depending on the staff, seated appropriately and handed a wine menu outlining what is available and the cost thereof. Old hands will know that you start with a selection of white wines and move on to the reds. If you are scrupulous in your homework, you may know ahead of time what you want to taste. If not, you will typically begin with a Sauvignon blanc, move on through a Chenin and/or Chardonnay before turning to the Merlot, Malbec, Shiraz, Pilotage and Cabernet Sauvignon options, interspersed with various blends the vintner has come up with. Any or all of these should provide something that tickles the palate, and you might even decide to splash out and buy a bottle or three, or even, an entire case should you feel so inclined.
It all becomes more complex when other grape varietals are on offer. This explains why I ended up sampling some extra treats this weekend. Carignan, is a grape I knew about, but only in so far as it can be included in a blend. Sangiovese, an amazing grape from Tuscany, I had never tried as a single varietal, and Nebbiolo, I hadn’t even heard of.
The fascinating thing about wine, to me, is that every year it will taste slightly different because every year the weather will make a massive difference to the sugar content and therefore to the flavours of the grapes even before the fermentation process has begun. I can’t pretend that my palate is sufficiently trained to pick out all those differences, but there is no doubt that altitude, terroir (soil type), climate, aspect (here, below the equator, north-facing is generally best) and time of harvesting, all make a difference. Then the vintner must decide whether he or she ages the grapes in French barrels (for oaky flavour), and whether they should be 1st, 2nd, 3rd, or even 4th fill barrels, depending on the intensity they are trying to achieve; or in American oak, which provides a more vanilla flavour. Alternatively, the vintner may decide that stainless steel tanks are the way forward for a wine that draws out the purer flavour of the grapes. If the end product is to be a blend, should the ageing be done separately, or once the wine has been crafted, and in what percentages? These choices lead to different outcomes in which alcohol, tannins, acidity, fruit and sugar need to be balanced to give the desired body to the whole, and this may take years.
A couple of years ago, a gentleman from this part of the world was talking to me about my writing. He compared the art of combining words on a page with that of combining the flavours of wine grapes. The former seeks to present a composition in whatever genre that appeals to a range of readers; the latter, to create truly outstanding bottles of wine that can be enjoyed by many people. I had never thought about it this way, but it was a pleasing comparison.
The more I’ve thought about it, the more accurate I think he was. Like any writer, I can spend hours wrestling to find just the right word to fit a train of thought; the best phrase to convey a thought or feeling. Like any wine-maker, I can find myself examining the fruits of my labour: discarding some; including others; re-working the whole, and re-reading it both silently and out loud to savour the result and make more editing choices about whether it is ready to be ‘bottled’, or published, and sent out into the big wide world.
Some of the best wines in the world are never actually opened and drunk. There are people who invest vast sums of money in rare bottles, and collectors who search for specific vintages to complete their collections, with no thought of quaffing the contents.
Writing is different. Words are made to be read. But, like wines, the best can stand the test of time; we can return to books, plays or poems and enjoy them over and over again with the pleasure of meeting an old friend, whether they were written recently or hundreds of years ago. I may never blend the perfect bottle of wine, but I’ll keep working at this craft which gives me so much pleasure, and share it in the hope that it brings pleasure to others too.
Cheers!
dancingthroughchaos 