South Africa has one of the longest unbroken winemaking traditions outside Europe. Jan van Riebeeck recorded the Cape's first wine in his journal on 2 February 1659, and by the late 1700s the sweet Muscat wine of Constantia was among the most coveted bottles in Europe. Jane Austen even has Mrs Jennings, in Sense and Sensibility, press a glass of old Constantia on the heartbroken Marianne, swearing by the wine's healing powers. Then came a long dip: phylloxera, decades of cooperative bulk production, and the isolation of the sanctions years.
The revival since the 1990s has been built on looking backwards as much as forwards. Growers went hunting for the old, unirrigated bush vines that had survived in the Swartland and elsewhere, and the Old Vine Project, launched in 2016, now certifies vineyards of thirty-five years and older with a seal on the bottle. At the same time, genuinely cool coastal sites were planted for the first time. South African wine today is a country reintroducing itself, and it has done so quickly.
What South African wine tastes like
South African wine has a signature that people struggle to name, and savoury is the closest word. Even the riper wines carry a dry, earthy, faintly smoky undertone that stops them tasting soft or sweet.
Chenin Blanc is the place to start. In its simplest form it is crisp and appley. From old bush vines it becomes something else entirely: quince, honey and wet stone, with a waxy texture and a long, dry finish. Sauvignon Blanc from cool coastal Constantia is grassy and taut, and Walker Bay Chardonnay is lean and citrusy.
Among the reds, Cape Syrah is peppery and dark rather than jammy. Stellenbosch Cabernet Sauvignon is firm and blackcurranty with a dusty grip of tannin. Pinotage, the local crossing, ranges from bright and juicy to smoky and rich, depending entirely on who made it.




