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By South African Wines
The 2019 Clonal Selection is drinking beautifully now and built to keep going. Here's how to decide which version of it you want.
There is a particular kind of dithering that happens with a bottle like this one. It's October, the clocks are about to go back, there's a lamb shoulder coming out of the oven in two hours, and a quiet voice at the back of your head asks whether you ought to be saving it for something.
With the 2019 Kershaw Clonal Selection Syrah, both answers are correct, which is exactly why the question is annoying. Richard Kershaw's own note on the wine is that it's drinking beautifully now but built to age, and that there's no rush. So the decision isn't about whether the wine is ready. It's about which wine you want to drink.
Open it this week and you get the wine in its current shape: perfumed, concentrated fruit from a cool Elgin growing season, carried on bright natural acidity and the kind of structural tension that cool Cape sites do particularly well. The oak is still a voice in the conversation rather than part of the chorus. The tannins still have a little grip to them.
Give it another six to ten years and three things change, according to the people who made it. The tannins resolve further. The oak folds completely into the fruit so you stop noticing it as oak at all. And the savoury side of the wine, the leather and dried herbs, deepens and takes the lead from the fruit.
Neither of those is the better wine. They're different pleasures. Fruit and lift on one hand, savoury depth and softness on the other. Knowing which one you actually enjoy is the whole trick, and most of us have never been asked.
Here's the useful part. Decanting is a compressed version of ageing, and this wine wants forty-five minutes to an hour in a decanter anyway, served at sixteen to eighteen degrees in a generous Burgundy-style bowl.
So pour yourself a small glass the moment it goes into the decanter. Taste it. Then taste again after the full hour, and again at the end of the meal. You'll feel the wine soften, the pepper and florals settle back, the savoury notes come forward.
If the first pour was your favourite, the one with the most lift and edge, drink the rest of your Syrah sooner rather than later. If the glass at the end of the evening was the one you kept going back to, you now know that time is working in your favour, and the rack is the right place.
Plenty of reds are enjoyable young and simply fade. Staying power usually comes down to acidity and tannin holding the wine upright, then the care it was given in the cellar, and Kershaw has stacked all three.
Five small parcels of Syrah are vinified separately, clone by clone, soil by soil, so nothing gets blurred. Maturation runs for seventeen months in French oak, around fifty-eight per cent of it new, split across barriques and puncheons from hand-picked Burgundy and Rhône coopers, with a portion resting in breathable concrete eggs. There's even an in-house algorithm matching each batch to the right cooper and barrel age, which is either delightful or slightly mad depending on your temperament.
Then comes the detail that matters most for keeping. No fining, no filtration: the wine is racked and bottled with its texture and tannin intact. Nothing has been stripped out to make it look tidier sooner. That's the material time has to work with.
And tonight often should. This is a Sunday wine in the proper British sense, the kind that suits a long table and a slow afternoon as the light goes early.
Slow-roasted lamb shoulder studded with rosemary and garlic is the match it was born for, the herbs meeting the wine's own savoury edge. A charred ribeye with black pepper butter works just as well, as does pan-seared duck breast with a peppercorn sauce. For a wet Tuesday, a beef and wild mushroom stew asks nothing more of you than a decanter.
And if there's any left when the plates are cleared, a wedge of aged Comté or mature Manchego will keep it going for another half hour. Hard, nutty cheese and peppery Syrah is one of those pairings that needs no explaining once you've tried it.
Then put it somewhere dark and cool, lying down, and genuinely forget about it. The worst thing you can do with a bottle you're ageing is check on it every few months and talk yourself into opening it on a Wednesday.
One honest caveat: cellaring is only rewarding if you like what ageing does. There's no prize for patience and no shame in drinking something at its most exuberant. A 750ml bottle holds about six glasses, which is one dinner for three people who are enjoying themselves.
The happiest arrangement, if you can manage it, is to have a bottle you drink now and a bottle you leave alone. You learn more about the wine that way than any tasting note can teach you, including the one on our Kershaw Chardonnay page, and you end up with a far better instinct for the rest of your reds.
If that sounds like your kind of decision to have hanging over you, the Kershaw Clonal Selection Syrah suits anyone who likes a red with pepper and tension rather than sheer weight. Decant it for an hour alongside a rosemary-heavy lamb shoulder, or lay it down and let the savoury side take over. Both versions are worth meeting.