South Africa is one of the most exciting wine-producing nations right now. A new generation – led by the likes of Eben Sadie, the Mullineux, Chris Alheit and many more – has put the Cape firmly on the fine wine agenda. Its pinpoint Chenin Blanc, serious Syrah and laidback winemakers have made it the darling of the industry – yet this modish group of surfer-cum-winemakers seems a world away from the sweet wines of Constantia.  “Constantia Wyn” was South Africa’s original vinous export – savoured by the good and great of the 18th and 19th centuries. Bismarck, Frederick the Great, Louis XVI and George Washington are all noted to have enjoyed it, while Napoleon had vast volumes shipped to him in exile on St Helena (drinking up to a bottle a day) – and it was supposedly the only thing he wished to consume on his deathbed. The wine is mentioned by Dickens, Dumas and Baudelaire, with Jane Austen’s Mrs Jennings in Sense and Sensibility famously recommending it for “its healing powers on a disappointed heart”.  How, then, did such a legendary wine fall from grace? Economic downturn in the second half of the 19th century, followed by the arrival of mildew and phylloxera in the Cape, and the subsequent dominance of the KWV – the state-run cooperative – saw it vanish.  But in 1985, the Klein Constantia property was bought by Duggie Jooste. He replanted the vineyards, built a new winery and worked on overhauling the long-neglected estate. In 1986 he and winemaker Ross Gower produced the first vintage of Vin de Constance – their tribute to “Constantia Wyn” – released in 1990. It was made with Muscat de Frontignan (a particularly thick-skinned clone of Muscat) left to raisin on the vine, producing a luscious sweet wine, with no botrytis influence. It was an instant success – but quality and style was inconsistent, and Vin de Constance was just one wine in the range, rather than a focus.   It was only in 2012 that Klein Constantia embarked on a new chapter. The property had been for sale for a while and, as Vice Chairman Hans Astrom told me, it was “a bit dusty” and severely in need of attention. It changed hands in 2011, with Zdenek Bakala – an American-Czech billionaire – and British banker Charles Harman taking over, merging a year later with the Stellenbosch estate Anwilka, part-owned by Duggie Jooste’s son Lowell Jooste, Hubert de Boüard (of Ch. Angélus) and Bruno Prats (previously of Cos d’Estournel). Matthew Day – who had worked at the property since 2008 – took over as winemaker. While the estate still produces a full range of whites and reds, Vin de Constance is its flagship.  Now, a decade on, the importance of this shift is shining through. Being a “legacy winery” used to be “what got us in the door”, Day explains, but Klein Constantia is no longer trading on its past. The wines made between 1986 and 2012 were experimental, Day notes – with bottlings ranging significantly in sweetness (from 80 to 180g/l residual sugar) – but they were “vital in figuring out where we are going”. His favourites from that era are the 1987, 1991, 1995, 1996 and 2001 (“with 1991 and 1987 being at the top of that list”), but he’s more excited about the wines he’s producing today. “The older Vin de Constances are more in the style of being sweet wines, whereas the newer vintages are just wines,” adds Day.   Since 2012, they have gradually evolved the style, striving for balance and freshness, with increased precision. For Day, the aim is to make “a sweet wine that doesn’t taste sweet”.  The first shifts were in the vineyard, which since the mid-2000s has been farmed sustainably with some organic and biodynamic practices. The team planted more bush vines that ripen and raisin earlier in the season, therefore retaining more acidity. While they used to pick parcels from January to have high-acid components for blending, now – with the bush vines – they can pick a more uniformly ripe crop, yet not sacrifice acidity.  The end goal remains to have as many components as possible for blending, with the harvest team picking in passes and bringing between one and five kilograms of grapes in per day. While the wine used to vary in alcohol and sugar level, they now aim for around 165g/l residual sugar and 14% alcohol – where they think the best balance is found, varying slightly according to vintage.   The 2016 vintage was the first to be made in a new cellar – a practical and hygienic space. As for what actually happens in the cellar, the key changes have been around skin contact and élevage. The must now spends a week on skins, inoculated with a non-saccharomyces yeast to protect them from biological contamination and the development of volatile acidity, extracting all-important flavour compounds, but not phenolics. They then inoculate for alcoholic fermentation, which lasts between one and three months. They also started re-introducing the use of foudre for ageing the wines in 2016. From 2019, the wine will spend its first 1.5 years in new 500-litre barrels (encouraging the evolution of secondary flavours), before being transferred to older foudre for another 1.5 years (giving oak influence but without the ageing effect of micro-oxygenation).   Tasting the 2012 alongside the 2019 highlights the differences. The two vintages were similarly cool, both picked in April, and although the residual sugar is almost identical, the 2019 feels significantly fresher – with a pithy, textured freshness that offsets its sweetness.   This whimsical wine of yore might feel like a counter to the nation’s new wave, but it’s not so, says Day. “For me, Klein Constantia has always been at the forefront of the movement, but in a completely different way. We might not be as trendy as some of the newer producers, but we like to think the work we have done with Vin de Constance over the past decade has shown the world that South Africa has the potential to compete with the best of the best in the world.”   Browse all current listings from Klein Constantia or browse more Editorial

Loved by Dickens, Austen and Napoleon, the sweet wines of Constantia were legendary in the 18th and 19th century. But Klein Constantia – the estate revived in the 1980s – is done with looking back. Sophie Thorpe caught up with winemaker Matthew Day to find out what lies ahead 

Klein Constantia’s winemaker Matthew Day on the evolution of Vin de Constance, South Africa’s most iconic and historic sweet wine

A new era for Klein Constantia’s Vin de Constance

A constant evolution: Vin de Constance

It’s not often words fail me. But finding the right words to describe Dr Bill Lumsden to those who haven’t had the great fortune of meeting him has rendered me a little dumbstruck. Many have dubbed him the “Willy Wonka of the whisky world” for his creativity, jaunty style and flair. His latest project, a purpose-built home for innovation named the Lighthouse, where Lumsden can innovate to his heart’s content and create all manner of whacky and category-bending whiskies, somewhat perpetuates this narrative of the eccentric whisky-maker. But, I’d argue, the good doctor is far more than this. He is, first and foremost, an incredibly accomplished scientist. His work at Glenmorangie and Ardbeg over the past 26 years – maintaining the iconic distillery characters and launching innumerable products for each – is nothing short of sensational. He is a workhorse, as well as, it would seem, a bit of a clothes horse. “I’m a bit of a shopaholic,” he tells me with glee. “I love buying clothes.” This isn’t the sort of confession I expected when sitting down with the Director of Distilling, Whisky Creation & Whisky Stocks in November last year. “If something’s in fashion, I wouldn’t be caught dead in it because other people are wearing it,” Lumsden continues. “So I tend to wear things which have been out of fashion for many years or are yet to be in fashion – and it’s just a little facet of my personality, unfortunately.” This, while slightly unexpected, actually makes a great deal of sense when you cast an eye over his professional life. Lumsden has always been the trendsetter rather than the disciple. And he’s quick to assert that his avant-garde attitude extends beyond apparel. “I have absolutely no interest whatsoever in what’s in fashion and what’s not in fashion [in the whisky industry]”, he says. “When I’m doing something it really is all to do with will I like the taste at the end of the day? Will it complement that character of the Glenmorangie or the Ardbeg spirit?”. Since joining Glenmorangie in 1995, Lumsden has been charged with “maintaining and hopefully slightly improving the spirit character” and innovating. While once his role was divided equally between these two tasks, new product development and innovation now take up the majority of his time. “It’s got to the stage now where the demand for new products is almost impossible to keep up with,” he says matter-of-factly. While this might be fatigue-inducing for some, this constant pressure to innovate exhilarates the inquisitive doctor. “I’m a scientist by training,” he explains. “It’s in my blood to experiment, and I’ve always been a curious individual who gets bored very easily and likes to try new experiences, in every aspect of my life. So the move to Glenmorangie was heaven-sent for me from that perspective,” he says with unfettered glee. The decision to build Lumsden’s Wonka-esque Lighthouse was driven to a certain extent by necessity, he tells me. “The Ardbeg and particularly Glenmorangie distilleries have been running absolutely flat-out for the last 12-15 years,” he says. “For me to interrupt the production cycle to get access to the distillery for three to four weeks of a year, where I wanted to try some radically different things was proving increasingly difficult. And also some of the things I wanted to do, I just simply hadn’t been able to do that with the existing distillery plant. “So the Lighthouse has been established to allow me to experiment but while maintaining the volumes that are required for future bottlings and also to try things that I simply can’t do in the main distillery.” These things range from the smallest alteration in primary production to radical innovations, and everything in between. “Some of the time it can be a very, very simple change,” Lumsden tells me. “It can be something as simple as offering one of your expressions in a natural, cask-strength form, for example, and other times it can be something dramatically different, where you’re actually using completely new materials. I am continuing to experiment with just about anything you can think of.” For the past 10 years, this experimentation has largely focused on different aspects of production. “We’re about to see some products coming out for both the Glenmorangie and the Ardbeg brand where I’ve been playing around more with primary production – it’s been great fun,” he teases. The challenge with this approach, he says, is two-fold. “You’ve got a very long lead time until your product comes to market,” he explains. “Sometimes you’re talking 10 years’ maturation.” At the very least. If you’re experimenting with barley varieties, or looking at fermentation profiles, you have an even lengthier wait. Secondly, by the very nature of these experiments, the difference between spirits is most emphasised in the new-make. “For example, using the barley varieties, it’s not giving you black and white differences,” Lumsden explains. “It’s more shades of grey, and you really pick that up in the new spirit. “But after many years of maturation, you risk losing these differences. So you have to choose your cask type accordingly to try and make sure that you still have the point of difference coming through.” Lumsden says Glenmorangie is launching a product in 2022 that is an experiment he’s always wanted to carry out. “I did this many, many years ago. I can’t say any more about it at this stage, but I will probably bottle this [whisky] slightly younger than my original target, which was 12 years, because I don’t want to continue to minimise the difference in character, if that makes sense?”  In addition to maintaining the two distillery’s very distinct characteristics, and inventing all manner of whiskies, Lumsden sits on a number of prestigious judging panels. In this capacity, he tastes hundreds upon hundreds of whiskies and sees first-hand the changes in the industry and trends that are being adopted – good and bad. He says there has been a “real divergence” in recent years. “Some of the whiskies I taste have become much more characterful and I’m delighted to see whiskies that are non-chill filtered,” he says hopefully. On the controversial subject of chill filtration, the process whereby distillers remove esters and fatty acids to prevent the liquid clouding at low temperatures, Lumsden ardently believes less is more. He does, however, acknowledge its place in markets where drinkers might not understand that cloudiness is caused by oils coming out of suspension rather than a fault. But, he believes, producers are taking its use to the extreme. If Ardbeg and Glenmorangie whiskies are chill-filtered, it is only ever done so “very gently”, because Lumsden feels that lipids – fatty acids from the base barley that would otherwise be removed by full chill filtration – add texture and character to the spirit. Sadly, he rues, this is not true for others who are “very brutally” applying this technique to hasten up processes, and character is lost as a consequence. Corner-cutting exercises like this, speeding up distillation methods and reusing barrels too many times are becoming all too common, he says. When it comes to producing or judging a perfect whisky, Lumsden says he’s after complex harmony. “I’m looking for the flavours to be nicely integrated together and not having any one aspect dominate,” he says. “That’s what I think good quality whisky, particularly Scotch whisky, should be". “The final thing I’ll look for is the length and character of the aftertaste of the whisky,” he explains. “Because I really don’t like to see a whisky just completely fade – it shouldn’t do that. It’s a richly flavoured product and it should linger on the palate for a while.” Whether he’s sitting on a judging panel or looking out from his monstrously tall Roald Dahl-esque Lighthouse, Lumsden’s vantage point, you sense, will always be forward-facing and progressive. It is for others to catch up or catch onto the trend. Browse Ardbeg and Glenmorangie whiskies or read more Editorial 

Glenmorangie and Ardbeg are two Scotch whisky brands famed for quality and innovation. Behind every bottle is the heart and mind of one man: Dr Bill Lumsden. He talks to Holly Motion about what it takes to be at the distilling vanguard for decades

Dr Bill Lumsden, the man behind some of Glenmorangie and Ardbeg’s greatest single malts, talks about consistency and creativity in Scotch whisky

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