We’ve all had “you had to be there” moments, when we’ve been recounting a humorous experience, which in the retelling is not as funny as it was first time around. In fact, it may not even be the slightest bit amusing, in which case one is desperately looking for the nearest carpet to hide beneath.

We also have experiences that link us to momentous events in world history. For instance, at the time that I heard of the planes flying into the Twin Towers I was sealing off several dozen duck breasts.

And, at the time that that heroic man Robin Peterson was smashing the winning runs in South Africa’s group stage match against India, I was tasting – actually, drinking – the 1959 Champagne Guy Charbaut Cuvée de Reserve, an experience of such rarity that I should perhaps have phrased it the other way around (i.e. what was happening elsewhere in the world as I was drinking this venerable wine). The occasion was a function organised by the Cape Town branch of the International Wine & Food Society (IWFS), held at sparkling wine producer Chabivin in Stellenbosch.

I was watching the ball-by-ball commentary on the Cricinfo app I had downloaded onto my iPhone. Trust me, the tension was not diminished in any way by not being either at the game, or watching it live on television. During that epic run chase there were good overs and bad overs, not to mention wickets falling at inopportune times. But, as the number of balls remaining grew smaller the required target loomed larger. The remaining batsmen were facing perhaps the greatest challenge of their sporting lives. History was waiting to be written.

If ever there was an excuse for adopting the ‘chokers’ mantle, this was it. The situation called for calm heads and sure blows. Preferably ones that despatched the ball comfortably over the boundary ropes. De Villiers, Duminy, Du Plessis and Botha all contributed handsomely. With 12 balls remaining, 17 runs were required. Do-able.

But then the sheer numbers of cricket fans overwhelmed the Cricinfo servers. The ball-by-ball updates stopped. No, they were choked!

I was desperately refreshing the screen, while Jean-Pierre (married to the founder’s granddaughter Brigitte) was speaking passionately about his product. The significance of 1959 was that Brigitte’s parents married in that year, we were told.

Then, a partial update at the end of the penultimate over: 13 runs required. Where was that ball-by-ball? I was getting desperate, but the ’59 wasn’t lost on me. Its gorgeous caramel and mocha flavours were the product of over 50 years in bottle. The mousse, while not vigorous, was present.

Another partial update. Four balls remaining, three runs required. By application of simple mathematics it was obvious that the first two balls of the over had resulted in a four and a six, but that blessed ball-by-ball was still absent – thankfully the only choking being done was by Cricinfo.

Refresh. Refresh. The tension had by now, definitely, got the better of me. Then my phone rang, ‘Home’ was identified. I hastily rejected the call (it’s one thing to follow an iPhone app during a sit-down presented tasting; it’s another thing altogether to speak on it). Then the damn thing rang again, ‘Mom Cell’ was identified. Reject.

Those calls in quick succession told me the result. Would I have felt any differently about it had I seen the two runs that levelled the scores, and then the four that secured victory? I don’t know, but I would have loved to have been at home to experience my son on our balcony, as he blew his vuvuzela for two minutes in celebration.

Champagne is the drink of celebration, and by this point I was virtually bathing in the stuff, so I wasn’t exactly getting by-passed in the celebrations.

Dinner followed. Outside, we were seated at one long table as we ate a delicious meal prepared by the IWFS food committee (you can read about a previous IWFS function I attended here).

It was a fabulous evening. You really should have been there.

Chabivin is a joint venture between Champagne Guy Charbaut and South African winemaker Hendrik Snyman, which is making small quantities of Methode Cap Classique (champagne-method sparkling wine). We first tasted 2011 base wine (no bubbles yet), and then 2010, which had been on the lees for eight months (Hendrik is a man of many talents – he also took the pictures above).

After this we were treated to a recently disgorged 1999 Blanc de Blancs from Guy Charbaut, which was very fresh (bottle age occurs most rapidly when Champagne is on the cork) and quite delicious. The tasting continued with the crowd-pleasing non-vintage Guy Charbaut Selection Brut, and included two further vintage Champagnes, the 2000 Guy Charbaut Millesime and 1998 Guy Charbaut Memory.

Awards used to be simple things. Time’s Man of the Year (which one year went to the PC), the Novel Peace Prize (which used to be collected in person), or the Oscar for Best Picture.

These days there are awards in so many niche categories that almost anything has a shot at getting an award.

The wine itself is decent enough, but I hereby nominate Boer & Brit The General for a design award, framed around the use of the barcode in the back label design.

Graphic designers must hate barcodes. They spend hours coming up with beautiful or striking package designs, and at the end of it all they need to find a place to put the barcode. Boxed items are relatively straightforward, because there is always the underside of the box. However, wine bottles are harder. Even on the back label, the barcode is an imposition.

Hence, the way that the barcode has been incorporated into the illustration of the Voortrekker Monument is nothing short of genius. I like the way that the ‘A’ number – another mandatory inclusion – has been placed in the arch of the monument.

Back label of Boer & Brit's The General

Boer & Brit's The General

A tip on getting the maximum enjoyment out of this wine: It’s a 2009 vintage, sealed under screwcap and consequently so tight and unyielding that it’s almost impossible to get into. At Sotano restaurant last night, I asked for a decanter, or a water jug if none was available, much to the bemusement of the waiting staff. They would certainly have been even more bemused at the way the wine got hurled into the jug (I was after maximum aeration). It finally reached a point of some suppleness when we reached the last half of the final glass much later.

Mention the word Joostenberg, and a whole lot of positive associations spring to mind. The first of these relates to their Chenin Blanc Noble Late Harvest, which I think is one of the finest botrytis wines produced in South Africa. When it was first released – coinciding with the Joostenberg launch in the late 90s, if I remember correctly – it was labelled as a Natural Sweet and was the first wine from the estate that we got stuck into selling at Enoteca. At twenty-something rand per half bottle we sold buckets of it.

The operation is run by brothers Tyrrel (winemaker) and Philip jnr. (marketing) Myburgh, who are both all-round great guys. Their sister, Susan, is married to acclaimed French chef Christophe Dehosse, whom I first met when he was the chef at the Vineyard Hotel’s Au Jardin restaurant. For the past ten years, or thereabouts, he’s been behind the ridiculously underpriced food served at Joostenberg Bistro, which is attached to the Myburgh family’s pork butchery. Philip senior has been farming pigs for more than four decades, which means that Christophe has a fabulous resource at his disposal.

Earlier this year Christophe opened Restaurant Christophe in Stellenbosch, which I’ve been meaning to get to. This man produces wonderful food.

We’ve had several fabulous winter lunches at Joostenberg Bistro, during which we’ve worked our way through numerous bottles of the Joostenberg Bakermat red blend. Good stuff.

So, on Sunday we had the opportunity of experiencing the extended Myburgh family’s wines and food in a different context, in the form of a family day at the Joostenberg manor house. For R110 per person (yes, that’s correct, one hundred and ten rand) we had the finest spit-roasted pork ever. Actually, it may have been the most delicious pork I’ve ever eaten. Days later, I’m still salivating over the milky tenderness of the ribs that I fished out at the buffet.

The barrel-fermented Fairhead Chenin/Viognier blend was a wonderful accompaniment to the pork, but it was as enjoyable when we were sipping it while sitting on picnic blankets in the shade of the oak trees.

From the teenaged Myburghs ticking visitors’ names off at the entrance, to Christophe tending the spit, and Philip, Tyrrel and their wives chatting to guests, it was a fabulous expression of hospitality. They certainly didn’t make a profit on the day, and may not even have covered their costs, but I very much hope they’ll do it again soon.

These days there’s no shortage of places to have lunch on wine farms; this kind of personal involvement (not to mention value) is rare. Make the most of it while it lasts!

Positive Joostenberg associations keep piling up.

I find South African sauvignon blanc a most interesting case study, on a number of different levels.

When I first entered the wine industry, in 1993, winemakers were obsessive – with a capital O – about making fabulous sauvignon. If one is attempting to do something really well obsessive is good; no complaints about that.

The part I didn’t understand was why they were using New Zealand as the benchmark. The growing conditions are quite different, which means that one cannot possibly make wine that tastes the same.

In those days sauvignon was praised for its primary fruit character; barring wines from Constantia, the recommendation was to drink them before the next vintage was released.

To a large extent that remains valid today, but two further changes occurred. Firstly, sauvignon became widely planted in places like Elim, Elgin, Noordhoek and other ‘cool-climate’ regions. Secondly, more and more sauvignon gets bottled under screwcap.

What effect does this have? Cooler regions result in both higher levels of natural acidity and greater fruit intensity as a result of longer ‘hang time’ (acidity is one of the key components that ensures successful bottle ageing). And, screwcaps not only remove any risk of cork taint, but the anaerobic conditions slow down the wine’s evolution.

Iona Sauvignon Blanc sometimes comes to us with cork and sometimes with screwcap. The 2008 under screwcap is still very nice, but the cork example has been on its way out since late last year. By the same token, the 2009 Iona under screwcap was somewhat abrasive in its exuberant freshness, but is now settling down into a jolly nice drink.

By contrast, Cape Point Vineyards (CPV) has never been released under screwcap. As far as CPV is concerned, the biggest coup of all time must be Woolworths (the South African cousin of Marks & Spencer) convincing them to supply a reserve sauvignon. I’d have to believe that this was all about Woolies’ Allan Mullins putting his famous people skills to work. Keeping Allan happy means that they have to disappoint dozens of other customers around the world, because they really don’t produce very much at all.

We bought a few bottles of the 2008 Woolworths CPV sauvignon soon after release. I was initially a little disappointed, but thought that a bit more maturity would count in the wine’s favour and so hid the bottles away for future consumption. Over the last two days I’ve made my way through one of these bottles, and am delighted with the result.

In the early 90s, when all this sauvignon obsession was going on, Marlborough and Sancerre were icons. I believe there’s no doubt that South African sauvignon has joined them in producing iconic sauvignon.

I have been moved – largely as a result of personal experience, it must be said – into the camp that would rather drink a ‘quality’ sauvignon at two years than immediately upon release, as one used to (especially if it’s under screwcap).

Apart from the wine geek stuff, the South African sauvignon blanc case study proves that prejudice and fixed opinions can be very limiting.

The world has changed a lot since the charismatic André Simon founded the International Wine & Food Society in 1933. Almost everything that we take for granted, as far as gastronomy is concerned, didn’t exist. There weren’t celebrity chefs, households generally existed on the basis of one comprehensive cookbook, and the range of produce available was extremely limited. Not only that, but the globalisation of national cuisines hadn’t happened. Just think, Britain had to wait another two decades for Elizabeth David to bring Mediterranean Food into ordinary people’s homes!

Apart from the undeveloped state of British ‘cuisine’ there was also the serious issue of bleak economic times and impending war. Those wanting access to epicurean experiences needed to form their own Society, but chasing butter at the apparent expense of guns didn’t make them popular.

These days almost any wine or food experience is available to anyone with a functioning bowel and valid credit card. The imperative for a wine and food society is different to what it used to be.

I don’t think I’m alone in having questioned my membership of the International Wine & Food Society (IWFS). However, sufficient ‘good’ bottles have been shared with fellow members who also happen to be friends that the dips have been overlooked.

Last night’s IWFS tasting of ten wines from the 2000 vintage was one of the very good reasons why I stick around. It’s not that I haven’t had the opportunity of drinking wines as good (or better) than this. The thing is, if those ten wines had been in my possession they would never have lasted ten years. So, the IWFS is like a unit trust, or mutual fund, for pleasure. Every year the Society buys wines which it cellars until an appropriate opportunity arises. For people who regard rainy days as a reason to drink red wine, rather than a motivator for thrift, it’s a wonderful arrangement.

While I was disappointed by several of the wines, having the opportunity of having ten ten-year-old wines was fantastic.

My favourite wine could have been Champagne le Mesnil Blanc de Blancs, a gorgeously rich wine, with a fine acidic backbone. By comparison with non-vintage Moët it’s a bargain at around R400.

A pair of Burgundies, from Armand Rousseau and Domaine Jacques Prieur, followed the Champagne. I thought they were quite flat, flabby and unexciting, even going so far as to suggest that none of those praising them would have done so if the labels had been unknown.

By comparison, a pair of Piedmontese wines spearheaded by Aldo Conterno’s Granbussia Barolo, were bustling with fruit, dashing acidity and quite stern tannins. The Barolo was my other choice for wine of the night.

Then followed two clarets – Duhart Milon and Clos du Marquis – both of which suffered (in my opinion only, it must be said) from really hard wood tannins that may never get any softer. I suggested it would be nice to re-taste the wines ten years hence, and immediately was presented with a number of invitations to do exactly that. Sometimes dissension can be fruitful.

The Domaine du Tich from Sainte Croix-du-Mont showed what good value many botrytis wines from South Africa are. I thought was it a bit sulphurous, lacking in concentration and altogether quite one-dimensional. When drinking Sauternes-style wines I want to have the intense dried apricot and citrus peel flavours along with racy acidity, but this wine didn’t deliver.

The vintage 2000 tasting closed with Warre’s Vintage, which did everything it was supposed to.

In general, when it comes to special bottles, it remains my view that there’s “no time like the present” (click here to read my reasoning for that, which incidentally also relates to a Champagne from le Mesnil and an IWFS function). However, I’m pleased that these bottles were locked away for all those years, awaiting one evening of indulgence.

There are few marketing exercises that have given me as much pleasure as launching Cloof’s Bordeaux-style blend Lynchpin to the British media … at a chateau in Bordeaux! Not only was the wine offered en primeur (a la Bordeaux), but I also put together a mini-conference entitled “Is the New World killing Bordeax” AND I got Bordeaux producers to participate (read about the event in more detail here). Not exactly the Procter & Gamble or Unilever approach to marketing.

Over the years I’ve drunk more than my fair share of 2005 Lynchpin (so named because of the “critically important” role played in the blend by Cabernet Franc). I see no reason to stop now; especially after the bottle I opened two nights ago, which was my first Lynchpin in about two months.

Clearly, I’m not an impartial commentator when it comes to Lynchpin. I worked with winemaker Christopher van Dieren in putting together the blend, I created the brand concept, and until December was employed full-time at Cloof. Having said that, my opinion is based upon a very intimate relationship with the wine. However highly regarded and experienced the people who have tasted Lynchpin in wine shows, or for wine publications, they have never spent more than a few seconds in its company.

I ask you this question: if you need a reference on a prospective employee, do you ask someone who knows them well, or the stranger who greeted them while crossing the road that morning?

I should add that this is not the style of wine that one would expect to win gold medals on wine shows, so a brief encounter in a crowded line-up may not leave the same impression as a more over-the-top wine would.

Here’s the description I wrote for the 2005 Lynchpin a few years ago:
All the taut elegance to be expected from Cabernet Franc, the tart richness of Merlot, and the take-no-prisoners power of Cabernet Sauvignon. Barrel maturation took place in French Oak, of which about 75% was new, giving the wine a very classic, well-balanced tannin structure. The aftertaste lingers for a good while, ending in a lip-smacking, appetite-inducing freshness.

All of that is still true, but with the extra time in bottle the wine has also now mellowed. The balance is still fabulous, and it is truly the most gorgeous wine to drink.

The best deal available for Lynchpin is at Redblends.co.za, where you can get it – effectively for free – as part of a six-pack of Cloof blended reds. Four of the six wines in the pack were awarded Four Stars in the Platter Wine Guide (yes, the stars are the products of a brief interaction between wine and taster!). The cost of the pack – R259 – must be one of the wine industry’s great bargains, with Lynchpin playing a ‘key role’ in delivering that value.

While in Mumbai last week I was a guest at two Bertani wine dinners. Apart from the pleasure of watching other people doing work that I normally do, the wines were a real eye-opener.

Amarone is not a new wine experience for me, but I don’t think I’ve had any for ten years. Also, I seem to recall drinking the more ‘modern’ styled wines, such as those made by Zenato.

If I’d been asked before the time to describe a wine that had spent six years in cask I would have bet money on the wine being oxidised, if not ridden with volatile acidity.

I tasted three vintages of the Bertani Amarone Classico – 2000, 1998 and 1983 – all of which did spend six years in cask. They were gorgeous, and the 1983 was so fresh that I would never have guessed it was 26 years old.

The unique feature of Amarone vinification is that the grapes are harvested in September before the full ripeness of the grapes causes the acidity to drop. The grapes are then placed on cane mats in open-sided sheds, where they lie for four months. Due to the cool, dry winds the grapes remain healthy, but lose a substantial amount of moisture, which causes the flavours to become very much more concentrated.

Regardless of which producer has made it, Amarone is a big, rich wine.

After pressing, the skins are used to re-ferment Valpolicella, which then becomes Ripassa. In essence, Ripassa is more concentrated than ordinary Valpolicella as a result of the use of Amarone skins.

Grappa is the distillate of the alcohol remaining in pressed grape skins after the completion of fermentation. Were these skins to be used for grappa, having already undergone fermentations for both Amarone and Ripassa, they would be the most-used grape skins ever!