It is surprising how few wine producers focus on imbuing their properties with a sense of place. They talk about terroir — the much-abused French term that encompasses everything from the soil, the slopes and the aspect of the vineyards — but not the place, as the mothership that guides the vision and style of which the wine is the expression. Perhaps they take it for granted — as if the buildings are statements separate from the wines. There are some wonderful (and still very functional) wineries, but mostly they are architectural objects aesthetically disconnected from the wines themselves.
A few generations ago even the visual statement was largely disregarded. You may have visited one of the great Bordeaux chateaux and been impressed with the owner’s homestead. The winery was probably tucked around the back, with the stables and the farm sheds. Wineries were simply factories, places where the fruit harvested from the vineyards was turned into wine to be sold (often in bulk) to brokers and négociants.
This began to change only in the past 50 years, driven mainly by New World visionaries for whom cellar-door sales were part of the marketing strategy. I remember visiting Sterling Vineyards in Napa in the early 1980s, where the owners (the Coca-Cola Corporation of Atlanta) had created a bit of a Disneyland, replete with a cable car to lift visitors from the parking lot to the cellar on a hill no bigger than a koppie. This wasn’t the rustic mould-covered vault of the average Burgundy producer.
If the New World led the Old in the business of direct engagement with consumers, the French and Italians quickly caught on. Even the producers, who still demand a letter of introduction before they admit wine enthusiasts into their hallowed spaces, now spend vast sums on ego projects visible mainly to purchasers of the coffee table books they sponsor. There is an understanding that the brand somehow resides in the structures from which the wine emerges.
Meantime, New World producers have upped their game. Creation — in the Hemel-en-Aarde Valley — offers a celebrated food and wine pairing experience that serves as a beacon for wine estates wishing to engage directly with customers. Constantia, adjacent to the Mother City, is home to several wineries geared to fine dining and pleasurable shopping.
But even this is not quite the same as making the estate the embodiment of a place. Babylonstoren on the outskirts of Paarl began the trend, initially with the gardens and wholesome farming environment, rather than the wines, as the chief selling point. Now La Motte, Franschhoek, about 20km further to the east, has unified all the elements of the property to create a destination that is entirely about it being the locus of the brand’s message.
The estate dates back to the first Huguenot settlers who settled the valley. The modern era began in the mid-1980s with the launch of the La Motte wines, several of which remain part of the range. Incidentally, groups of six or more can book tastings that include a selection of back vintages. I recently sampled an extraordinary 2007 sauvignon blanc as well as a perfectly matured 2016 Millennium.
The relaunched La Motte boasts a bakery, which alone would justify the trip, a deli and an estate shop with carefully curated offerings: the L’Ami family brasserie; an interactive art space; the historic red wine cellar and an ancient water mill that supplies some of the flour for the bakery. All these buildings are close to each other, joined by paths that showcase unintrusive but beautifully maintained gardens.
The difference is dramatic: gone are the black-and-white Pierneef woodcuts, the overly formal venues. The historic buildings are, of course, still there, but they have been suffused with a lightness of touch. In lieu of the old and slightly intimidating spaces, La Motte has become approachable, engaging, family friendly and consistent with the expression of its wines.
Would you like to comment on this article?
Sign up (it's quick and free) or sign in now.
Please read our Comment Policy before commenting.