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Dave Biggs remembers his farmer father’s first and only attempt at making wine
y grandparents arrived on what is now the family farm a century ago. It was a tough time for stock farmers and they trekked across the drought-stricken Karoo on foot and donkey cart, herding their small flock of sheep, goats and cows ahead of them. When they arrived at their new home they found a row of gnarled and unpruned grapevines planted among the grey Karoo scrub, table grapes of the 5 6
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variety called Crystal. They decided to call the farm “Grapevale.” Those vines have survived for generations, but seldom provided anything more useful than shade and occasionally food for starlings. Usually the crop is too small even to bother about harvesting. One year—long ago —good summer rains fell and to everybody’s astonishment, a generous crop of sweet, fat grapes appeared on the vines.
Illustration by: Chloé Damstra
My Father THE WINEMAKER
Farmers are ever ready to take advantage of Nature’s bounty and my father (who never drank wine) said: “Let’s make wine this year.” His ignorance of the art of winemaking was total but his confidence was boundless. “What can be difficult about making wine?” he said. “Wine is just vrot grape juice.” The farm had recently switched from generator-produced electricity to the stuff sold by Eskom, so there were several large glass storage batteries lying around unused. These were cleaned and pressed into service. As they were open-topped we made plywood lids for them and sealed them with a powerful and pungent contact adhesive called Genkem. A few handfuls of yeast from granny’s kitchen were added to the juice, the plywood lids were glued on and the wine was left to vrot in its own good time. After a couple of weeks, it was decanted into bottles and stored in the loft. From time to time a bottle would be cautiously opened and tasted. Frankly, it was unspeakably dreadful and tasted and smelled only of contact adhesive. It was nicknamed “Genkem Wine” and left strictly alone. Eventually, my father passed away and somebody emptied the Genkem wine down the drain. Nobody minded. Some 10 years later I was looking for something in one of the farm storerooms when I came across two surviving bottles of that Genkem Wine. Out of curiosity I opened one, poured a tentative glass and took a tip. It was delicious! It had turned a rich amber colour and was honey-sweet. All traces of contact adhesive had vanished. Wise winemakers will tell you they can use all the latest technology and skill they have, but there’s always a small element of magic that turns a good wine into a great one. That Genkem wine was a unique blend of zero percent skill and 100 percent magic. I shall not experience its equal again.
SOUTH AFRICAN CONNOISSEUR
2020/11/19 16:01
