It’s All in THE PRICE The SECRET INGREDIENT to good WINE by Dave Biggs
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SOUTH AFRICAN CONNOISSEUR
Illustration by: Chloe Damstra
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well-established winemaker friend of mine created a superb red blend, which his fellow vintners declared was one of the best he had ever made. The grapes, picked at optimum ripeness, came from ancient vineyards clinging to the steep slopes of the mountain. A portion of the blend was stored in new oak barrels and the final blend was the result of hours of critical tasting and tweaking. A Canadian wine merchant on a serious buying visit tasted the wine and declared it to be one of the best Cape wines he had ever experienced. “I get subtle hints of blackberries and a waft of understated mocha, black plums, soft tannic grip, all in perfect harmony and supported on a bed of clean modest oak,” he said. “One of your best vintages ever.” He immediately signed an order for 1000 cases, saying: “Whatever the price, I want that wine.” His order was bottled and dressed in an exclusive label, specially designed for his chain of Canadian wine stores. It wasn’t cheap. I believe it sells for the Canadian dollar equivalent of about R600 a bottle. I am told it is offered only in selected, very upmarket restaurants, or saved for special occasions like birthdays or wedding anniversaries. When the Canadian order had been shipped the winemaker was left with 40 surplus cases of the fine wine. That’s too much for personal consumption but not enough to justify mounting a separate marketing campaign. What do you do with 40 cases of exceptionally fine wine? Being a generous man (he was, after all, a winemaker) he told family members and friends that he had “a few
cases of surplus wine if you’re interested. It’s unlabelled and I’m getting rid of it for R50 a bottle.” So a small group of lucky people bought a few cases, sampled the wine and declared it “pretty good value, actually,” and served it at their braais or with sliced biltong while watching football on TV. Good, easy-drinking, everyday plonk, they said, unaware that the same wine was fetching R600 a bottle in Canada. I poured a glass for a neighbour one evening and he took a gulp. “Not bad, “he declared. “I normally drink Chateau Libertas, but this is every bit as good.” So what are we to think of this excellent red blend? Halfway around the world it is served by white-
gloved waiters and sipped by wealthy connoisseurs with reverend appreciation. Meanwhile back home it is being quaffed casually around the barbecue and rated “as good as Chateau Libertas.” So what is the reality of this wine? Call me a cynic if you like, but I am beginning to suspect that one of the key ingredients of any great blend may not be any particular grape variety or the location of the vineyard. It may not be an exceptional growing season or rainfall pattern. Maybe that key ingredient is actually the price ticket. Could that be the one factor that determines whether the wine is destined for the banqueting table or the backyard barbecue? Would your Tassies taste better if you paid R200 a bottle for it?
