Rarities have been lost in a bid to chase trends and commercial success; history is discarded in favour of the bottom line. One such variety, palomino, is all but extinguished, even though it’s a plant that carries with it over a century of winemaking history.
Before chenin blanc took over the reigns, there was another workhorse acting as ballast for the Cape’s brandy production. Records show palomino plantings date all the way back to the 1920s.
Confusingly known in the Cape as fransdruif (‘white French’), palomino hails from Jerez in southern Spain, where it’s used for sherry production. In its Spanish home it presents with a low acid as well as low sugar, and is said to oxidise easily–the building blocks for making sherry. Here, with just the jagged shape of the African continent between us, it’s a different animal all together.
Palomino was likely planted for its neutral base wine, perfect for brandy making. But it got lost as chenin quickly took over that role, being able to offer more fruit-forwardness in the blend. Vineyards were grubbed up, sites were forgotten about. And then something elemental happened, whether a by-product of age, clonal variations, or the way the Cape is tilted towards the sun; modern-day palomino made from heritage vineyards are anything but neutral.
South Africa currently has 3505 hectares of old vines, four percent of the total national vineyard, and of that there are just 81,7 hectares of old vine palomino. A handful of producers have stumbled upon these historic reserves and are doing the variety justice.
One such winemaker is Francois Haasbroek of Blackwater Wines, who makes a 100 per cent palomino from 90-year-old vines in Robertson.
I tasted his wine The Pleasure Garden 2017 at Publik Wine Bar, his distributor. White peach, blossom and sun-warmed hay led to a palate of juicy fruit—litchi, peach, nectarine, an edge of pithy orange rind. It’s luscious, textured, mouthcoating.
Speaking about the vineyard Francois says: “I randomly came to find this block through another farmer in Robertson. He mentioned that there are these vineyards that are 90 odd years old. I made contact with the Van Zyls, whose farm it is, and we have now been working together for four years. They farm the vineyard the way they have been doing and I don’t interfere.”
There’s a hidden meaning in the name of his wine.“I named it for Alfred Hitchcock’s directorial debut, The Pleasure Garden. It was released in 1927, the year the vineyard was planted. And what is a vineyard, but a garden?”
Commenting on its South African flavour profile he says: “Palomino is known for its large berries and generous yields; neither conducive to quality or expressiveness; with the much older vineyards it is fair to say they are naturally restrictive in their yields and could likely develop more character due to this.
“Palomino will likely become more and more of a marginal oddity. I produce between 1600 and 2000 bottles a year and release it once it’s two-years-old. Overwhelmingly the reception of it is one of surprise and delight; but it won’t become a mainstream varietal in my opinion. So it’s really up to a few of us to pay these farmers enough to ensure it remains in the ground.”
There are a small but growing number of producers showing interest in this forgotten varietal. Along with Blackwater Wines, there’s the Skerpioen white by Eben Sadie, a blend of chenin and palomino. Kruger Family Wines also impressed me recently with their take on 100 per cent old vine palomino. Just released, the 2019 is all sunshiny, smooth fruit and waxy texture.
Always ahead of the pack, Fairview has also incorporated a palomino blend into their Bloemcool range, which heroes small-batch wines and historic varietals.
Head honcho, Charles Back laments: “When I joined my late father we had an old bushvine palomino on the farm and we used to make sherry from it for KWV. Modernising Fairview they were the first vineyards to be pulled out, to make way for shiraz. If I knew what I knew today, I certainly would have kept a block.”
As luck would have it though, the creation of Spice Route’s Malabar led them to the Piekenierskloof, where they discovered a vineyard of palomino planted in 1974. The resulting wine, Ploegperd (2018) is a field blend of this along with chenin (planted in 1973) and grenache blanc (1992, the oldest vineyard of this varietal in South Africa).
Pieter Walser of BLANKbottle also approaches palomino as a field blend for his Orbitofrontal Cortex, the main components are clairette and verdelho, with grenache blanc, chenin, palomino and fernão pires.
Then of course, there’s Adi Badenhorstof AA Badenhorst Family Wines. Adi is working with a number of vineyards for three separate palomino products.
“We have three vineyards we source from in vastly different climates,” he explains to me. “We bottle one on its own called Sout van die Aarde, the vineyard grows on the West Coast in limestone soils. The proximity to the ocean and the limestone give this wine a saline characteristic, which is so unique.
“We also source palomino grapes from the Moutonshoek, a tiny vineyard at the end of the Paardeberg. This is for our sherry. The last vineyard is in Citrusdal. The elevation, position and age of the vines make this wine very compelling. Watch this space, it’s still to be released.”
When it comes to its new world flavour profile Adi’s money is on the old vine thing too. “The younger vineyards are less complex and deep. It needs a bit of age to truly take on its surroundings.”
When I manage to catch his Swartland comrade on the phone, Eben Sadie is chasing signal between mountain passes.
Skerpioen is a field blend of interplanted chenin blanc and palomino old bushvines from an isolated corner in the Swartland, it’s said the blocks are around 90-years-old.
Its extreme viticulture speaks to its liminal expression: austere and mineral, yet layered in peachy stone fruit, sage and lime peel. Subtly saline, the wine is intense and nuanced—like thumbing through a well-worn book; new characters keep emerging to surprise you.
He approaches the vinification simply, whole-bunch press followed by putting the juice in concrete or old foudres. “We look after the juice,” he says. “If you want to produce a fresh style palomino can’t handle wood or too much oxidation.”
Eben has also recently planted a new palomino vineyard on his farm.“With the younger blocks, we have no idea what to expect,” he says his voice crackling over the line. “We haven’t yet worked with young vine palomino, so we just don’t know.
When asked about the future for the varietal on South African soil he says: “I don’t see people rushing out and planting it, but in life you can’t do everything for commercial reasons, sometimes it’s just the right thing to do. I want to keep the old historic lineage alive, so my kids, and their kids, can also experience it.
“And that’s one of the wonderful things about wine—you can ask complicated questions, and they answer themselves, with time.”
These producers shining the light on this rare grape understand the value of planting (and protecting) something they’ll never see the true fruition of. Casting ahead into the future, they’re keeping palomino in the ground, and with it, history itself.