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By South African Wines
Pinotage is only the start. Here are four Cape reds we keep coming back to, and who each one is for.
Ask most people about red South African wine and they will say Pinotage, then stop. Fair enough: it is the Cape's own grape and it has earned its billing. But the reds coming out of South Africa right now run from peppery, cool-grown Syrah to perfumed Cinsault light enough to chill, and the gap between those two styles is where most of the fun lives.
So this is a short, opinionated list rather than a survey. Four bottles, each doing something different at the table, each with a reason you could repeat to a friend over dinner. If you would rather start with a crowd-pleaser, our most popular Cape red blend is never a wrong answer.
The thing that surprises people about South African Syrah is how light on its feet it can be. Warm days, properly cool nights, and the grapes ripen slowly enough to keep their acidity while the flavour builds. That is the whole trick.
Bruce Jack's Tumbleweed Big Sky Syrah is the one I hand to anyone who expects a jammy, warm-country red and wants to be proved wrong. The fruit comes off high, breezy sites where cool air drifts in off the Cape South Coast, and a small portion of whole-bunch carbonic Syrah is blended back in to lift the perfume. Around eighteen months in barrels of three different sizes rounds it out without burying anything.
It suits the midweek cook more than the cellar keeper. Pour it with a sausage, lentil and red wine casserole on a dark October Tuesday, or a herb-roasted leg of lamb heavy on the rosemary and garlic. Drink it now and over the next three or four years; a brief decant when it is young opens the aromatics nicely.
One to try
Bruce Jack, Swartland
£12.79
Only 5 bottles left
Minimal intervention can mean anything from thrilling to undrinkable. False Bay's Peacock Wild Ferment Syrah sits firmly at the thrilling end, and it does it without any of the eccentricity that puts people off the category.
The fruit comes from the Schapenberg, where Stellenbosch runs out of land and meets the sea. Constant wind keeps yields small and ripening slow, which is why the tannins come out elegant rather than chewy and the acidity stays bright. Whole bunches go into open-top wooden fermenters and start on their own wild yeasts, then the wine ages in old French oak chosen to season rather than add vanilla. Nothing added beyond a little sulphur, and it is vegan-friendly.
This is the bottle for the friend who reads the back label before the front. It is drinking well now and will hold and soften over four or five years, the fruit easing towards something more leathery. A venison casserole with juniper is the match I would make first, though it handles a board of cured meats and mature Cheddar just as happily.
Cinsault spent decades as a supporting player in Cape blends. Bellevue's Estate Collection Cinsault makes the case for it as the main event, and the case is a persuasive one.
The fruit comes from untrellised bush vines, partly drip-irrigated, which work harder and give smaller, more perfumed crops. In the cellar the ferment is quick, about four days, with pump-overs three times a day to coax out colour and a little structure without pushing too hard. Then lees ageing for texture and a short spell in French and American oak for a whisper of spice.
Half an hour in the fridge and it comes alive. That makes it the obvious pour for a Saturday lunch of charcuterie and bread, or cold roast lamb with mint and new potatoes the day after a Sunday roast. It is also the one to open if you have the heavyweights covered and want something lighter on the table. Drink it over the next two or three years while the raspberry and strawberry notes are at their most vivid.
Food pairing for Bellevue Estate Collection Cinsault, Beef carpaccio with rocket
Every rack needs a bottle you can open without ceremony, and this is mine for South African Pinotage.
Nederburg's 5600 Pinotage is built for drinking rather than keeping, with a splash of Shiraz in the blend and soft tannins that need no time to settle. The granite and shale soils behind it give a natural seam of acidity, so it stays lively instead of turning heavy, and open canopies let sunlight reach the bunches to build colour and structure. Unshowy fieldwork, honest result.
Nederburg has been at this since the late eighteenth century, when a German immigrant bought land in the Paarl valley and built a wine farm there. Scale and craft are not opposites in their hands: the aim is a bottle that tastes the way you remember it. Serve it at 16 degrees with bangers and mash and proper onion gravy, or char-grilled boerewors if the weather holds and you are still braaiing. South Africans in the UK will recognise it from the first pour.
If you bought all four, the running order more or less picks itself. Cinsault first, lightly chilled, with something cold and salty. Then the Tumbleweed with the roast, because its pepper and bright red fruit cut through lamb fat better than anything heavier.
The Peacock comes into its own later, once the food gets richer and darker, and the Pinotage is the one left standing on the Wednesday after. All four arrive in the standard 750 ml bottle, and none of them asks you to wait.
If you're curious about how far Cape reds travel beyond the grape everyone names first, the wider South African red wines selection is where to wander next. There is a style here for a Tuesday casserole and one for a Sunday that matters, delivered across the UK either way.