What it does have is a team of people who believe that making wine is a holistic – and very simple – venture. There is no distinction between vineyard and winery, the notion that viticulturists tend the grapes then hand them over to the winemakers is alien here. Worse, that disconnect has “put us back in so many ways”, says Jacques de Klerk, “winemakers should think like winegrowers and vice versa”, he says. Jacques is part winegrower, part winemaker, and cellarmaster, and so is Burgundian Edouard Labeye during his sojourn between French vintages, and so are Bernard Bredell, Gus Dale and Tubby and Terence in the cellar, and Alex Dale joins in for blending and sorting decisions, and everyone in the office tastes and has an input into the wines.
It is all about getting back to wine at
Radford Dale. Jacques rubs a block of pale marl between his fingers –it is rock
hard – “This is the key”, he says, “We have become lost in science” and with a
French ‘terroirist’ guiding them the team look to remove everything preventing
each wine telling its own story.
Grapes are sourced from selected
parcels in Stellenbosch, the Helderberg, Elgin and Swartland and chosen for
their quality and expression. The marl
we stood on, for example, shears off vine roots as it dries out seasonally and
reduces vine vigour, yields are always low and the 38 year old vines looked
like they are fifteen; the stumps are compact and low. The Frankenstein
Pinotage from a dozen or so rows here was silky, almost rosé in depth and
shouted of its parentage. Totally unlike Pinotage for many, this is a wine of
elegance, delicacy and harmony. The name is typical; Frankenstein (Abraham
Perold?) created a monster, brutish and scary, but when shown love and
attention the monster became gentle and intriguing.
The RD team deliberately remove
‘ingredients’ in wine. “I don’t want to always identify pepper, or lime, or
spices, or oak in wine”, says Jacques, “Firstly, let’s get back to the energy
of the wine, wine should be vinous”. If a process doesn’t allow the wine to
express itself, or if it adds anything that doesn’t come from the juice then it
is avoided. The wines are unfined, unfiltered and not stabilised. Even the
Thirst White, which already had a spoonful of crystals at the bottom of the
2015 has no treatments, just a racking and settling in a cool cellar.
Vineyard treatments, including
spraying, are almost non-existent, dog fur among the wires scares hungry Buck
away and nesting posts attract birds of prey to warn burrowing rodents. Ethics
are important, too, the winery is certified under WIETA, IPW, BEE and PIWOSA
member. The web-site says, ‘We do everything we do because we believe it is right,
not because it’s politically correct, fashionable or expedient’.
This is reductive winemaking – but not
in the way textbooks describe it. This the gradual removal of any technique or
additive if it doesn’t benefit the wine. So wines receive variations of basket
pressed juice, natural yeasts throughout, no deliberate Malolactic, no
additional Sulphur, natural settling, usually less than 10% new oak, often
fourth or fifth fill. Jacques happily showed me the sediment and slight haze in
a shaken wine, there is indeed no attempt to ‘pretty the wine up’, you buy the
wine with everything in, but that includes its soul.
“This is not for marketing purposes,
we believe that without these interventions the wine is more authentic, more
honest”, says Jacques. The wines are not
cheap, and I query the Thirst range label which suggests a more commercial
wine. The team considered that, but believe that wine should still be
accessible and unpretentious at every price point. “The way premium wines are
presented is sucking the fun out of them”, says Jacques.
Everywhere you look there is
individuality and fresh perspective at RD. The white blend is based on
Clairette with 4 days skin contact and phenolic maturity providing structure
rather than acidity, the Gamay is whole bunch fermented (as is the Cinsault) over
10 days and is sold as WO Coastal Region despite coming from a selected site in
order to hide its origin (well, with only 10 hectares or so of Gamay in SA, you
need to be protective), the Chardonnay lets its rocky granite and wild yeast
provide its mealy Mersault mineral texture, the Black Rock Swartland Rhoné
blend has six varieties in it – all co-fermented.
All the wines share certain qualities,
though. Alcohol is low, almost irrelevant, 11.5% in the white, the Gamay and
the Cinsault, 12.5% in the Pinot Noir and unbelievably in the Voor Paardeberg
Nudity Syrah and just 13.5% in the Swartland blend. There is also a restraint,
a classic subtlety to the wines. They are elegant, silky and compelling, even
the Swartland blend – the most muscular – is accessible, balanced and wouldn’t
make an evening’s drinking difficult. The Nudity Syrah is the best expression
of their aim. How you achieve 12% alcohol from un-irrigated vines in the Voor
Paardeberg is one thing, but producing a wine which has more poise than a Côte
Rôtie and more style than Cary Grant is beyond me. If you want to know what SA
can do in standing up to the clarity, charm and distinction of the Rhône, try
one.
Again, quoting
from their web-site; ‘We aren’t rebels, but we do have a cause’.