MICHAEL FRIDJHON | Stereotypes fade as pinotage earns wine lovers’ respect

Opinions should be based on current performance rather than old biases

Wine
Some red wine enthusiasts still give pinotage a wide berth. (123RF/karandaev )

Stereotypes survive long after whatever inspired them (the term “role model” doesn’t seem appropriate) has been forgotten. British-Dutch maritime rivalry made it fashionable for both sides to trade racial slurs — some of which continue today as everyday expressions.

“Dutch courage” — alcohol-induced bravery — remains a term of disparagement, insulting the Dutch and whoever needs several drinks before going into battle. Accusing the Scots of parsimony is an equally ancient slander, reinforced by the country’s austere version of Calvinism, which doubtless contributed to a culture where frugality is considered a virtue.

It’s difficult to untarnish a reputation: to use a Scottish proverb: “Give a dog an ill name, and he’ll soon be hanged.” Ask any producer working hard to sell pinotage, the variety created just more than a century ago by Professor Perold. It’s been many years since buying a bottle was a risky choice, but there are still red wine enthusiasts who will give it a wide berth.

All this is obviously unfair. Not all Scots are mean and the courage of the Dutch is beyond dispute. They stood up to the Spanish in the Eighty Years War, defeating what was, at the time, the strongest and wealthiest empire in Europe. However, with wine — as opposed to warfare — you cannot escape the impact of subjectivity. If people believe a particular cultivar won’t provide the pleasure they seek, they simply won’t buy it.

For pinotage, the problems have been partly historical and partly stylistic. In an era in which producers measured the sugar in the ripening grapes to estimate fruit maturity, pinotage was often harvested before the tannins had softened and polymerised. The wines were harsher, more noticeably green, and came to market with a tell-tale whiff of acetone.

Then, for some years after that, producers erred in the opposite direction: they harvested overripe grapes, often out of condition, creating high-alcohol blockbusters with dangerously low pHs, prone to bacterial spoilage. Neither style helped the pinotage cause.

The challenge for pinotage today is how to shed this past. Not so long ago there were some pretty awful cabernets, chenins, chardonnays and syrahs, but we don’t damn them on the strength of the undrinkable examples. It seemed worth asking the obvious question: if you dispense with the prejudice, how do the wines actually perform?

A review of my recent blind tastings of pinotage and cabernet provided an opportunity to see whether the scores — by variety — differed significantly. This is admittedly a slightly arbitrary approach, but it did offer one way of letting the contents of the glass answer the question.

It was an interesting exercise. Over the period in question I tasted 14 cabernets and 12 pinotages. Two cabernets (Kleine Zalze Vineyard Selection 2022 and Klein Roosboom 2023) scored 93 and two scored 92 (Thelema The Mint 2022 and Lowerland Koedoe 2023). There were two 91s and several 90s.

The lowest cabernet scores were two on 87 (basically a mid-bronze medal). Among the pinotages, there were two on 91 (Bruce Jack Flag of Truce 2023 and Rijk’s 2021) and three on 90 (Bruce Jack Reserve 2023, Aaldering Lady M 2024 and Stellenbosch Hills Bushvine 2020). There was a greater concentration of pinotage scores hovering around 90 than cabernet, and one real shocker on 85.

Both categories price along the same lines: the most expensive cabernet was the Thelema at R575, the most expensive pinotage the Flag of Truce at R595. Both varieties offered a fair sprinkling of wines at the R100 mark. It’s not as if there was a yawning chasm between them.

On average the higher-scoring pinotages are those that aren’t trying to be cabernets. Flag of Truce is an obvious example, but so is Allée Bleue’s 2024. This suggests the future of pinotage may lie in wines that reflect the variety’s Burgundian antecedents. Try Lucinda Heyns’s Illimis and Alexandra McFarlane’s Saturday’s Child 2024: both are more delicate, less massive than the Os du Randt versions of yore.

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