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

Last year Colgin celebrated its 30th harvest. In a relatively short time, this Napa estate has become one of the most successful wineries in the region, if not the world. Its three single-vineyard wines – Cariad, Tychson Hill and IX Estate – regularly receive 99-100 points scores across the board, establishing it as one of the region’s cult Cabernet estates that has put Napa on the international fine wine map. Despite its international repute, however, Paul Roberts – Master Sommelier and Colgin’s COO – believes the estate, and Napa Valley as a whole, is still only just starting to tell its story. Napa, more than anywhere else, has been massively influenced by wine critics’ scores. While there is much fanfare over being awarded a perfect 100 points, these headline-grabbing scores have distracted from the actual reasons why this hugely heterogeneous region can produce such great wines, and that the wines themselves are distinctly varied, both in style and flavour profile. For some collectors, if a wine from Napa doesn’t have a 99 or 100-point score then they aren’t interested; however more engaged collectors are starting to identify the nuances within the region and are eager to learn more. Roberts has noticed this first-hand. “[People] don’t want to rely only on a score for guidance but instead begin to look for reasons why they really like these wines from Pritchard Hill, for instance… this is an evolution.” It reminds Roberts of a conversation he had with Dominique Lafon (Domaine des Comtes Lafon) when visiting Burgundy. Lafon said to Roberts, “When Domaine Faiveley sued Robert Parker in 1993, it was the best thing that could have happened to Burgundy. Parker left Burgundy and no other critic at the time had the influence like he did.” Lafon felt that it forced the wineries in Burgundy to focus on the story behind their wine – the characteristics of each vineyard – instead of a score. “This has to be the next evolution in understanding the great wines and the great terroirs of Napa,” says Roberts.  While Roberts emphasises that Colgin doesn’t trade on its scores, it is fortunate to have them. “But Napa is about a place – and we need to talk about this more,” he says. “The place is going to outlive you, me, Robert Parker, Lisa Perrotti-Brown, Antonio Galloni, all of us will be dead and gone, but the land abides. The place will hopefully begin to take on its own unique story, just in the same way you think Romanée-Saint-Vivant is different to Richebourg.” Tasting Colgin with Roberts, you quickly realise that for him tannins (their shape, intensity and mouthfeel) are an important aspect of understanding Napa’s different terroirs, as well as what really sets Napa apart from other Cabernet-growing regions around the world. Firstly, there’s the sheer volume of tannins. Top Napa Cabernets have higher skin-to-juice ratios than even the First Growths, notes Roberts, and therefore much more “antioxidant” tannins than their Bordeaux counterparts, vital for long ageing and development in bottle. Colgin’s mountainside IX Estate vineyard on Pritchard Hill produces berries that are, on average, 30% smaller than those grown in Pauillac and, to Roberts, have a completely different tannin profile. “While we love and enjoy drinking Bordeaux wines,” says Roberts, “Napa shoots itself in the foot every time we keep comparing our wines to Bordeaux. The climate, the terroir, the soils, they are just completely different.” When asked to describe the differences between the various regions within Napa, Roberts wants the tannins to guide you. While the reality is more nuanced, generally Roberts finds that the further south you are, the more elegant the tannin profile. In the south it is slightly cooler, something further exaggerated by the elevation. The northern part of the valley, however, produces “exotic, fleshy, powerful wines”. He finds that the mountain appellations – Spring Mountain, Howell Mountain and Diamond Mountain – produce powerful, dense, tannic, structured wines.  
Today Napa wines are often divided into those from the valley floor and those from mountain sites. While this binary division is one way to approach the geographical distinctions within Napa, but it is, Roberts feels, overly simplistic. Most importantly, it doesn’t allow for wines that are neither valley floor or mountain – the hillside vineyards, such as Colgin. 
Napa’s climate is influenced heavily by marine fog. Every day during the growing season, a layer of fog forms over the vineyards. Valley floor vineyards sit below the fog line and are protected from the full daytime power of the sun, moderating the climate. Mountain sites are above the fog line and are therefore constantly exposed to the California sunshine, which, according to Roberts, produces “a different berry structure” to the grapes on the valley floor. “The berries are smaller and have much thicker skins, very different tannins and much later picking cycles, since the mountain appellations are cooler due to elevation,” he explains.

“This cloud layer, that determines whether you are in a valley floor appellation, or a mountain appellation, tops off around 1,400 feet,” says Roberts. “ Howell Mountain’s vineyards starts at 1,400 feet; Diamond Mountain – most properties sit between 1,600-2,600 feet; Spring Mountain have some vineyards at 3,000 feet.” These then sit comfortably above the fog line and are rightly classified as mountain appellation wines. But Colgin, along with some others, Roberts believes, are wrongly considered mountain wines.

Colgin’s vineyards sit between 300 and 1,400 feet, and remain in or below the fog line. So, in some ways, they are similar to the valley floor, but, because they are on a hillside, they benefit from what Roberts calls “the devigourating nature of a hillside rocky soil”. These hillside vineyards have their own distinct climatic and geological influence – that doesn’t fit with mountain terroir or valley floor, but shares elements of both. For Roberts, Colgin’s vineyards are better described as a mid-slope hillside appellation, and it finds itself in good company.  
“If you look back at the time when we released our first vintage,” says Roberts, “we were labelled among a number of wineries as one of the cult Cabernet estates. Harlan Estate, Bryant Estate, Eisele Vineyards and ourselves – you look, and all of them are planted on mid-slope hillsides." Screaming Eagle (another cult Cabernet estate), Roberts admits, is strictly valley floor, but it is still on a slope. “A lot of people at the time said you are not going to be able to get Cabernet ripe and it’s too hard to plant in the rocky soils on these mid-slopes,” says Roberts. “But now this is where you see a lot of the great estates are situated.” “Even if you look at a famous vineyard like To Kalon,” says Roberts, “it is roughly the same size as Clos Vougeot. We all know Clos Vougeot is a Grand Cru, but within the vineyard it has some Grand Cru quality terroir, some not so good Premier Cru quality and even some village quality terroir, all within the same delineated boundary. Well, To Kalon is the same. If you get close to the road (Highway 29), it is a totally different style of wine than if you are further back on the toe of the hill where there is deeper gravel. That to me is like the Grand Cru part of To Kalon and that part, like Screaming Eagle, is on a slope, and behaves closer to a mid-slope hillside appellation than valley floor.”  The great advantage of these mid-slope hillside appellations, according to Roberts, is not only better drainage and the natural devigouration of the rocky soils, but a different ripening cycle. Because the soils are that much drier, they warm up quicker at the beginning of the season, pushing the hillside vineyards to bud earlier and to ripen more quickly than those on the valley floor and in the mountain appellations. This helps them avoid the late season rain that can disrupt a vintage. The result, therefore, is much more consistency year to year. Roberts notes that more and more producers are realising the virtues of the Napa hillsides, with the likes of Tim Mondavi now planting on Pritchard Hill. Despite demand for these hillside plots, which have proven their potential, Roberts doesn’t expect to see the “appellation” expand much more. Regulation and restrictions from California’s Land Use Law prevents any new plantings on Napa’s hillsides, preserving key natural habitats. And that might be no bad thing, since the residential properties being developed in the region and their ornamental plantings of lavender and rosemary, Roberts argues, pose a huge fire risk for the region. California faces a tumultuous future. As aquafers dry up and fires rage around the state, California sometimes feels like a perilous place that needs protecting. Colgin know the dangers only too well. On 17th August 2020, a freak storm hit California. The state saw 10,000 lightning strikes in 24 hours. One of the two huge fires that the storm caused started directly opposite Colgin’s vineyards. “Within four hours, we were in an evacuation zone,” says Roberts. “The fire couldn’t be put out by a fire crew because it was on such a steep hillside, they couldn’t get to it. All air assets had been deployed to southern California, since that is where they thought the storm would hit.” Fortunately, vineyards act as firebreaks and Colgin’s vineyards were saved – although they didn’t make any wine in 2020 because of the smoke damage. Such a close call has Roberts and his team doing everything they can to minimise the risks. A massive amount of brush clearing, putting in fire roads as well as bringing in new technology to minimize the risks. At the top of Colgin’s vineyards, Roberts recently approved a heat camera that can sense and detect the emergence of a fire, allowing them to deploy helicopters and put fires out early, before they have a chance to spread.

While these issues have become a day-to-day concern in the region, Roberts is confident Napa is turning a page in its history. If you look beyond the headlines of high scores and wildfires, Napa’s vineyards and varied terroir are starting to find a voice – and that’s where the real story is. Your guide to Colgin’s three single vineyards: IX Estate, Tychson Hill and Cariad While Colgin’s three single vineyards all share mid-slope hillside positioning and the climatic benefits this brings, the sites produce three very different styles of Cabernet, due to their different soils and microclimates. IX Estate IX Estate is an 8.07-hectare vineyard situated on Pritchard Hill overlooking Lake Henessey at an altitude of between 1,100 and 1,400 feet. The IX Estate vineyard’s bedrock is made up of old lava flow, full of iron. The soil looks red, dotted with large volcanic boulders. According to Colgin’s COO Paul Roberts MS, the iron component gives an almost sanguine nature to the tannins. “There are lots of them, but they are very, very fine,” says Roberts. “Then there is an almost bloody note – not as much as in the Northern Rhône – not full blood – not that extreme, but more mouth-watering, not from the acidity but from the flavour/nature of the tannins.” The wines from IX Estate have a distinct red fruit profile on the palate which is a classic element of this part of Napa. The wild flora and fauna around the vineyard, to Roberts, “add an almost herb component, as close as you get to garrigue in the south of France – thyme, rosemary, wild sage.” Tychson Hill Tychson Hill is an historic vineyard site, first planted in the 19th century. The vines were pulled out during prohibition, with the site only replanted by Anne Colgin in the mid-1990s. The vineyard is north of the town of St Helena at an altitude of 300-422 feet. In total 2.42 hectares are planted to vines. The bedrock is also volcanic, but with a very different volcanic origin to IX Estate, with a mix of gravel and obsidian black stone (a black volcanic glass). According to Roberts, the wines from Tchyson Hill has less tannin than IX Estate and they are rounder, without the edges you get in IX Estate. “The tannin quality of the wine begins to emulate the shape of the stones you find in the vineyard,” says Roberts. “Tychson Hill is a much older material – so a finer quality of tannin.” The diurnal shift at Tychson Hill also has a distinct effect on the wines, with a shift of up to 9-10˚C – which provides much more aromatics and more red fruit character. “The climate can fully volatilise and metabolize tannins,” says Roberts, “so they appear much softer.” It is also, he believes, Colgin’s most approachable wine in its youth. Cariad Cariad is a steeper vineyard site, 3.2 hectares in the western hills of St Helena at an altitude of 400-500 feet. The vines are grown on what is an uplifted, old gravel riverbed. The tannins, according to Roberts, are “more spherical because of the rounded stones in the vineyard”. The fruit is more purple in character. Earlier vintages of Cariad were a Cabernet Sauvignon/Merlot blend that typically was the slowest maturing of the three, needing the longest time for the tannins to fully integrate, but today much of the Merlot has been replaced with Cabernet Franc, which Roberts believes brings a much “fleshier beauty” early on in its maturity. Browse all Colgin listings or read more editorial

Napa’s finest wines receive stratospheric scores – but there’s much more to the region’s story. Gavin Smith talks to Master Sommelier and Colgin COO about why it’s time to stop focusing on critical acclaim and let Napa’s vineyards speak for themselves

Exploring how Napa’s vineyards are finding their voice with a spotlight on Colgin’s three single vineyards: IX Estate, Tychson Hill and Cariad

Exploring a new chapter for Napa

A new chapter for Napa

The Rhône Valley has enjoyed a consistent string of vintages over the last decade or so. The Northern Rhône in particular has seen a prolific set of back-to-back vintages stretching to 2015. The Southern Rhône has managed to produce excellent wines during this time too, but yields have been badly affected in the last few years; thankfully, 2020 gave them a healthy crop. Producers compare 2020 to 2006, 2010, 2016 and even 1990 – all memorable, age-worthy vintages with great character. Similarly, to 2016, 2020 was an “easy” growing season throughout the valley. Good rainfall at the beginning of the year set up the vines nicely for a hot, dry summer, with no mildew or rot in the vineyards. For Ch. de Beaucastel's Marc Perrin, “It was difficult to find something wrong with the vintage.” If anything, he noted the strong winds in Châteauneuf-du-Pape, particularly in the northern part, saw high levels of evaporation, which brought greater concentration to the grapes but reduced the yields. Despite this, production levels were much higher than the challenging 2017, 2018 and 2019 vintages (with severe drought in 2019, poor flowering and huge mildew outbreaks in 2018 and frost in 2017 seeing yields badly affected in the appellation). Stéphane Usseglio noted how successful flowering was in 2020, particularly for Grenache, setting up for good yields overall. Although the summer saw hot daytime temperatures, cool nights helped retain a noticeable freshness and balance to the wines in 2020, compared to the richer, more tannic wines of 2019, noted Perrin. There was no pressure to rush the harvest with any impending disruptions to the weather, and no serious rainfall arrived until long after everything had been picked. The higher yields and clement weather meant Usseglio could afford to wait, allowing for concentration to build up and pick at optimum ripeness. In the Northern Rhône, there hasn’t really been a below-average vintage since 2014. Recent years have, however, seen a new normal when it comes to daytime temperatures and resulting alcohol levels (which regularly hit 14-14.5%). According to Chapoutier, though, the vines have adapted and, even with more sun intensity and higher temperatures, are consistently producing balanced wines with great acidity. While in numbers 2020 might compete with the heatwave of 2003, the resulting wines are very different thanks to the way the vines have adapted over the last 20 years. Nicolas Champagneux agrees and believes the acidities of his Côte-Rôtie are getting higher along with the alcohol, balancing the wine. In the Southern Rhône, 2020’s alcohol levels are very similar to previous warm years but the wines, according to Usseglio, “have a better freshness”. He thinks this is thanks to the winter water reserves, helping maintain a sufficient flow of nutrients to the vines to see them through the summer. Usseglio’s vines didn’t shut down at all – something he thinks is at least in part due to his biodynamic farming. It is this practice, he believes, that has contributed to “high mineral salt concentrations, and hence more freshness and mineral structure in the wines”. Both the whites and reds we have tried from the Northern and Southern Rhône are hard to fault. The whites from Chapoutier were exceptional. While Beaucastel’s Marc Perrin has a slight preference for the reds in the Southern Rhône, the whites we tasted were very elegant, pure, highly concentrated and beautifully balanced. The reds have fantastic richness, resolved tannins and freshness too. For Nicolas Champagneux, 2020 is “a typical sun-blessed year” for the Northern Rhône, comparing it to 2018. “This vintage offers a nice combination of fruit purity and terroir expression with rather solid structure and good acidities,” he says. He thinks the vintage will be “long-lived, while offering enjoyable wines in their relative youth” . For Perrin, the red wines’ balance, intensity and concentration remind him of 1990 and 2010. The wines are quite approachable, yet also have the potential for long ageing. For Usseglio, 2020 is a “terroir-driven vintage, offering elegant, vibrant wines”. For him 2020 has “a splendid fruit purity” and “good concentration”, but is fresher, with better aromatics than recent warm vintages. “I find the wines very enjoyable. I have to say maybe a hybrid between the silky, lush fruit of the 2016 and the mineral core of the 2010.” That’s a combination that will no doubt get any fine wine collector excited. This is a vintage not to miss. The vintage in summary Outstanding vintage Compared to some of the best vintages in the last 20 years – 2016, 2010, 2006, 1990 Balanced, concentrated and fresh reds Ideal growing season saw few issues in the vineyard Early-season rainfall kept the vines hydrated through the hot and dry summer Cool night-time temperatures extended the ripening season, retaining plenty of acidity/ freshness in the grapes Ambient weather throughout harvest allowed winemakers to pick at optimum ripeness Healthy yields saw good volume and good quality grapes in both the Northern and Southern Rhône Read more Editorial

Speaking with some of the region’s top vignerons in both the Northern and Southern Rhône about 2020, it is smiles all round. Not since the outstanding 2016s has there been such universal praise for a vintage. 

Not since the outstanding 2016s has there been such universal praise for a wine vintage in the Rhone Valley. Producers compare 2020 to 2006, 2010, 2016 & 1990

Rhône 2020 vintage report

Rhône 2020: the stars align

The Gin Renaissance, which kickstarted in 1999, showed the world that gin could be more than something that’s mixed with an insipid tonic and served at room temperature with a slice of lemon that has seen better days. For the next decade, the juniper-dominant spirit was unstoppable. At its peak in 2018, new gins were launching faster than you can say botanical and there was seemingly room for all. Until, like most trends, there wasn’t. Rather than the spectacular bubble burst many predicted, there has been a slowing down. There is still a thirst for gin – a whopping 83 million bottles were purchased in the UK alone in 2019 and the category is still in growth (24%), valued at £2.6 billion. But the tide is changing. Of the hundreds launched over the past decade, countless have fallen by the wayside. A handful  – often those with a true point of difference – have become household names.  This innovation has come in many forms and has largely focused on the addition of botanicals and distillates, neglecting the (copper-still-shaped) elephant in the room. “Gin has had a problem that went almost unnoticed for about 250 years,” Cambridge Distillery’s William Lowe MW animatedly tells me. With this declaration, the Master Distiller holds up a miniature replica of a copper pot still and says: “There are six key botanicals that will be in almost every gin you ever taste. And those are: juniper (obviously), coriander, liquorice, orris, citrus and angelica. And there’s a very simple reason for that: two and a half centuries has taught us that they operate really well in this.” He continues, pot still model in hand: “In order for that pot still to work, you have to boil the ethanol at 78.3°C. Water boils at 100°C; so, for distillation to be working, you have to operate between those two parameters. In practice, most of the time you are boiling a liquid around 90°C plus or minus 5°C. The problem with that, is it is really hot. “And if you think about the way a chef would deal with a whole array of different ingredients they have available, there’d be some things they would boil, some things they’d blanch, some things they’d grill, some things they’d cook in an oven at a low heat for a long time or a high heat for a short time, or sometimes a blow torch or sometimes a sous vide or sometimes they just pick, and place, with no heat whatsoever. “A distiller doesn’t have that choice. They have this...” [He holds up the still] “… which runs at around 90°C for an entire day.” When Lowe started the Cambridge Distillery in his front room with his wife Lucy and Labrador Darcy, in 2012, people wrote him off as a kook. His approach of distilling fresh, seasonal botanicals according to their individual needs, rather than all together at extreme temperature, was unheard of. The vacuum still he fashioned is worlds away from the copper pot still in his hand when we speak.  “I can bring the atmospheric pressure down in this unit,” he says with glee, “therefore bringing down the point at which water and ethanol and a combination of those two will boil […] I can literally boil liquids with no heat whatsoever, which starts to sound a bit mad scientist and actually it starts to look a lot more mad scientist. So, what we are able to do, is rather than putting everything into one pot at the same time, we will distil each individual item individually.” In the decade that has followed, Lowe has silenced all his critics. His gins are some of the most highly acclaimed and his distillery is a three-time recipient of the World’s Most Innovative title at the World Beverage Awards. “I’m not innovating here to be different,” he says, “I’ve got no interest in being different. We’re trying to just make things better. And if the optimal approach already existed I’d use it because it would save me a lot of time and energy. Instead, what we do, is we focus on things that have either never been done before or on approaches that have been overlooked by distillers.” These innovations have included the world’s first gin made using solely Japanese flavours, the world’s first gin made out of insects, and the world’s first gin made out of truffles. Lowe has created, and since trademarked, a nine-step approach called a novo-dimensional distillation matrix to extract maximum flavour from his chosen botanicals. He will say two of the variables are temperature and pressure, but the other seven are now a closely guarded secret after gins remarkably similar to his own – but not quite as good, he’s quick to point out – started to appear on the market. Over in Kenya, Procera is a small team adopting another radical approach to produce the first African juniper gin. Distilling legend Roger Jorgensen uses juniperus procera, the native African juniper, and distils it green – as opposed to dried – when it is bright, vegetal and alive. He also uses something other than a traditional copper pot still.  When he was introduced to the 230-litre Müller still, which he affectionately describes as the “Rolls Royce of stills” and his “baby”, Jorgensen says it changed the way he thought about distilling gin – which is quite the claim after a 27-year career in distillation. The Müller still has got infinite controls on it. Instead of a column with bubble plates on it to achieve separation, it’s got 10 metres of 600mm-wide copper plate that spirit and vapour pass over. The column, Jorgensen says, does the work of umpteen plates on another still and gives a seamless separation, driving back dense and heavy flavours, only allowing the brightest ones to come through. Namely, the African juniper.  “The juniper that is used in most gins is harvested and collected at a certain time of year but the highest-quality juniper doesn’t go into distilling,” Procera founder Guy Brennan tells me. “Distilleries are not paying the highest money. The best juniper in the world goes into food and grain stuff. And then you go down a few ranks until you get to the juniper that gets used for distilling.” Procera is the only company using the native African juniper, which Brennan says is “grade one” instead of the “grade three or four” in other gins. It is his hope that other distillers will follow suit and African juniper can become a cash crop like tea or coffee. “At the moment, African juniper has a zero dollar value, but it could be worth £100m in 10 years,” he says. “If Beefeater make an African juniper gin then there is £10m of juniper and the money goes straight to the people on the ground.” The idea to create the world’s first African juniper gin came to Brennan when he was sitting around drinking Bombay with friends. After taking a closer look at the bottle they’d held many times, Brennan and friends were struck by the irony that many of the botanicals, which hail from Africa, are shipped to London for somebody to distil and sent back to Africa as a finished product. Brennan then found Jorgensen – who he playfully calls the “distilling Yoda” – and both discovered juniperus procera. While botanicals are often the most talked about thing when it comes to gin – there’s almost a game of one-upmanship at times with who can use the most or the most extreme – few, if any, talk about the juniper, which legally has to be the prominent flavour. “We don’t want to speak negatively about other companies,” Brennan continues, “but you just don’t hear much about the juniper and there’s a reason: it all comes in 50kg bags from a commodity broker, rather than anyone having a true connection to it. Juniper makes up 90% of a gin and it should be that terroir, rather than a chilli or a citrus botanical, which defines the gin.” African juniper berries grow on a tree – rather than a bush – that is between 10-15 metres in height. The tree, which lives for hundreds of years, only grows at high altitudes (above 1,500 metres) around the equatorial zones. You can tell the juniper is in season, at the end of the short rains, when the baboons start eating it. It is earthier and nuttier than the more commonly used European juniper, juniperus communis. “If you think about it, the best juniper comes from the Mediterranean south, it doesn’t come from the Black Forest or even Scotland because it gets more sun,” Brennan says. “It’s like tomatoes from the Mediterranean: more sun, more flavour, more richness – it’s the same with juniper as well.” In addition to distilling the native juniper green, Jorgensen adopts a pillowcase technique. The Master Distiller finely grinds the botanicals and puts them into a pillowcase and soaks them in warm alcohol overnight. This “grown-up teabag” extracts the primary terroir flavours, and ensures they aren't lost during the distilling process. At Cambridge Distillery, Lowe is a staunch advocate for terroir – or as he terms it, typicity – in spirits. “The difference between the good and the great wines really is the notion of typicity and expressiveness and a sense of place and that’s universally true,” he explains. The Master Distiller points to Champagne, Burgundy and Bordeaux, and the rare whisky gems from Islay, Speyside, and more nuanced examples from Japan. “And then gin,” he says with a mischievous smile. “Well here’s a problem: juniper, coriander, liquorice, orris, citrus and angelica – there is no one place where all six of those things grow. And yet, if you just go and grab a bottle from the supermarket it will be made from juniper, coriander, liquorice, orris, citrus and angelica. Why?” He holds up the miniature copper still model. “So here we have a confirmation of our process and our philosophy. Our philosophy was simple: why can’t you make a gin that’s really from a place? And just because no-one had, it didn’t mean it couldn’t be done. It just meant no-one had done it yet.” The team at Procera is equally determined. “I’m an irreverent person,” Brennan says with a laugh. “Roger’s an irreverent person, and the team, we’re irreverent. We don’t just say let’s do things the way everyone is doing it. Because why would we use European juniper? Why do we use dry juniper? Green juniper is fundamentally better. Fresh products make better gin.” Brennan says he hopes others will adopt the same logic when they see the quality of the product and consumers’ willingness to pay more than the current glass ceiling of £40 per bottle. Something Lowe echoes: “This isn’t stuff that is being dreamt up around a boardroom. And we’ve never been in a position where we’re working down to a price point. We work up to a quality point and that’s it. “It does have the side effect that a lot of our products are more expensive than the contemporary set of gins that are out there but I’ve never been of a mind to dictate to people what’s too expensive. “I think that’s been what held these guys back for a really long time,” Lowe says with the pot still aloft. “If you ask everyone out there: are you making the best decision or are you making the most economically viable decision? They have got to be honest about it. “Flavour is a fashion. Quality is an enduring feature. And there will always be those who graduate out of these fashion cycles and come and seek quality. “I’m not in any way intimidated by what other people do around the gin industry. Either it will be part of the fashion trend, which is not our natural ecosystem, or they will join us on our mission to improve quality – and that’s got to be a good thing, hasn’t it?” Browse our range of gins or read more Editorial 

After countless headlines prophesying the end of the gin boom, the category's growth has finally slowed. Holly Motion talks to two innovators who, through reimagining the distillation process, have produced gins that should stand the test of time

Exploring life after the gin craze with two innovators who are reimagining the distillation process, Procera and Cambridge Distillery 

Two mavericks rectifying gin's biggest problem

After the craze: reinventing gin

Lebanon's lost legacy: viticulture Despite being more southerly than the great wine regions of Europe, the Beka'a’s elevated altitude on average around 1000m above sea level – means that it’s a full 10ºC cooler than Lebanon’s Mediterranean coastline. The climate is positively European with wet, often snowy winters and warm, dry summers. It’s very well suited to winemaking, a local craft that dates back millennia. Lebanon itself is geographically situated in the cradle of civilisation. It was here, even before
the Greeks and Romans emerged as dominant cultures in the Mediterranean, and the Canaanites (later known as Phoenicians), peace-loving traders from the Levant, established some of the earliest known well-organised cities: the trading ports of Byblos, Sidon and Tyre. Phoenician culture was at its peak between 1500 and 300BC – a period that saw them explore and dominate the Mediterranean, developing trade routes, setting up outposts and cities as far afield as North Africa (Carthage, now Tunis, Tunisia) and the Iberian peninsula (Gadir, now Cádiz, Spain). The word ‘Phoenician’ directly connects the people of the Levant with both an impressive entrepreneurial spirit and an awe-inspiring work ethic. More precisely, it is an exonym originating from ancient Greek that describes Tyrian purple. This highly prized dye was a major export of the Canaanite port towns, in particular Tyre, hence the name. The labour-intensive production of the colour involved collecting the mucous secretions of thousands of sea snails. 12,000 snails yield a paltry 1.5 grams of dye – which is why it was so highly prized and the clothes it coloured were reserved for royalty. Tyrian purple was not the only ingenious product that the Phoenicians exported. Their legacy also includes the invention of glass-blowing techniques, and the development of the very first abstract (non-figurative) writing system (from which the Greek alphabet was derived) is credited to the Phoenicians and their Canaanite ancestors. It was almost certainly developed primarily to keep records of sales and ultimately function as an essential accounting tool. We also have the Phoenicians to thank for the word ‘Europe’ – which comes from their word ‘Erob’ meaning ‘where the sun sets’. While it is thought that the world’s first-ever wine was made over 8,000 years ago in the Caucasus Mountains between the Black and Caspian Seas to the northeast of the Levant, it was the Phoenicians that produced, exported and made famous the ‘fragrant wines of Lebanon’ mentioned in the Bible’s old testament (Hosea 14:7). And with their grip on Mediterranean trade, they marketed it and exported it along with, crucially, the knowledge of how to make it. The agricultural treatises of Carthaginian writer Mago, (thought to be writing around 350 BC) were among the most important early texts in the history of wine to record ancient knowledge of winemaking and viticulture. It’s important to remember the function of wine in society in Phoenician times. It wasn’t just a drink. It was, rather like the Tyrian purple dye, complicated and labour intensive to make, exceptionally highly prized and valuable and not just because of how it tasted – but because of its effect and function.  Biomolecular Archaeologist Professor Pat McGovern at the University of Pennsylvania Museum is a specialist in fermented beverages and his research reveals more about wine in Phoenician life. “The wines of ancient Lebanon and Syria,” he says, “were much more than a technological marvel. They were the social lubricants to break down barriers, stimulate music and the arts and bring people together. They were the supreme religious symbol for prosperity and well-being, in life as well as death. And they were the medicines for dissolving and dispensing botanicals, to rest the weary, relieve pain and cure disease.” Taking their wine to the Pharoahs of Egypt and further west to Portugal to trade it for local silver and tin, Phoenician winemaking equipment has been discovered in Valepeñas in Spain. As Phoenicians established Cádiz (Spain) as early as 1100BC, it is most likely that Phoenician wines – not Roman wines – were the forerunners to sherry. Perhaps the most enduring legacy of these seafaring traders was, in fact, the propagation of ancestral grapevines from the Levant that ampelographers believe gave rise to several modern grape varieties in Europe. According to research published by the University of California-Davis on the Integrated Viticulture Online Database, the French wine grape Mourvèrde may have first been introduced to the wine region of Catalonia around 500BC. By 64BC, Seleucid Syria and Lebanon had been annexed to the Roman empire by emperor Pompey. Peace and prosperity followed as the people of Byblos, Tyre and Sidon were granted Roman citizenship. Trade boomed and new wealth generated from exports of cedar, pottery, jewellery, perfume, purple dye and wine to Rome, enabled an era of widespread construction and urban development. One of the building projects the Romans invested in at this time was the enhancement of the already millennia-old temple complex at Baalbek in the Beka'a Valley. At a site which the Greeks and the Romans referred to as Heliopolis 'the City of the Sun' (where Phoenician god Ba’al had once been worshipped), the Romans rebuilt and reconsecrated the temples to their gods Jupiter, Venus and Bacchus, gods of wine, fertility, ritual madness, festivity, dance and theatre. The 700-acre site remains, to this day, the largest and best preserved Roman temple complex anywhere in the Empire. How the ancients moved the 800-ton quarried stone blocks that form the base of the temples still baffles the world’s brightest engineers. The temple to Bacchus at Baalbek is a monument to the importance of wine in the region, and the site became a symbol of Lebanon itself in the 1960s, thanks to the cultural impact of the Baalbek International Festival. Established in the mid-1950s, the festival brought celebration, theatre, music and dance back to the site through performances by international music stars and, crucially, nurtured and celebrated home-grown talent, perhaps most famously Fairouz and the Rahbani Brothers who became huge stars in Lebanon and right across the Arab world. Lebanon’s potent winemaking heritage is not lost on the makers of Chateau Musar. Far from it. As well as its vineyards in the Beka'a, the winery also grows vines near Byblos and the Hochar family’s charismatic winemaker, Tarek Sakr, is as passionate about the history of the land as he is about the grapes he grows there. “Byblos has been known since Phoenician times as an exporter of cedar wood and wine,” he enthuses. “Vines were cultivated in the hills surrounding Byblos, fermented in stone vats dug into the landscape. Then, the wine was put in Canaanite jars (these were the predecessor of the Greek amphora – yes, Phoenicians invented these too), sealed with resin to stop oxidation, and taken to the harbour for export.” Tarek also tells of a recently discovered archaeological site in the village of Edde a few kilometres from Byblos. “The site suggests that most of the hills near the city have been growing vines for thousands of years. This makes sense as the place where our nearby vineyards are located, on a hill overlooking Byblos, is called Vines Passage. You can smell the history of winemaking here. This is undoubtedly the birthplace of viticulture.” While he has spent many years planting and tending to its vines as an integral part of the Musar winemaking process, Tarek’s knowledge of and connection to the land and its ancient traditions run even deeper than his many years of experience. The result of a DNA test found that he is genuinely of Phoenician descent. It would seem that when it comes to Lebanon’s unrivalled contribution to the world of wine, we still have much to thank the Phoenicians for. Explore more Editorial 

Most of Chateau Musar’s vines are grown in Lebanon’s Beka'a Valley, a fertile plain about 30km east of Beirut, situated between Mount Lebanon on the west and the Anti-Lebanon mountains to the east. 

Most of Chateau Musar’s vines are grown in Lebanon’s Beka'a Valley. We look into the viticultural legacy of the region and the impact of the cultural heritage

The wines of Lebanon

The wines of Lebanon: a phoenician phenomenon

It’s only April and he’s already traversed the globe hosting tastings, completed a harvest in Australia and now Egon Müller IV is finally home. His 18-year-old daughter is also back home in Wiltingen, unexpectedly: her A-level exams have been cancelled due to the Coronavirus pandemic and she has returned from her studies in London. It's uncertain times but the proximity to the border with France and Luxembourg has been a source of uncertainty for centuries. In fact, if it were not for the French army invading the region soon after the Revolution and taking the Left Bank of the Rhine river, the family estate would not have existed.  His great-great-great grandfather, Jean-Jacques Koch was a monk at a local monastery before the French came through in 1794, seized the church's property and auctioned it off. As a result, Koch bought his piece of the Scharzhof estate, met a woman, had seven children, whom he had to divide his land between thanks to Napoleon's law of inheritance, and the scene was set.  Whether the Scharzhofberg (Scharzhof hill) was considered as special as it is now when Koch made the acquisition is pure speculation. It was –and remains –an unusual site, as it has long been dedicated to vines whereas similar-sized properties were home to other crops and woods. Long ago, it was clear that the wines from the steep slate-rich soils of this high spot in the Saar were out of the ordinary, winning acclaim at international fairs including the 1900 Paris Exhibition and as far afield as St. Louis, USA.  However, the 20th century brought its troubles to the Müller's tranquil spot a few miles from the confluence of the Saar and Mosel rivers. Müller's father, Egon III, was born in 1919 and drafted into the German army for the duration of World War II, fighting as close to home as France and as far afield as Russia. His wife and her sister did their best to take care of the vineyard while he was away but when he returned for the 1945 vintage, they were able to make only 1200 litres of wine. "The weather was fantastic but there had been years of neglect: there were no workers, you couldn't buy sprays nor fertiliser,” says Müller IV.  Despite the challenges they faced, the family business was already 150 years into its existence and while all businesses face global uncertainty today, Müller says, "In terms of family businesses that have been going for many generations, we have a better chance than if you look at what's in your bank account.  In agriculture, you have to think about the long term."It's just as well the family has been so stoic in the face of adversity or the world would not have the thrill of its sweet, pure Riesling, whose sweetest wines leave even the most exacting of wine critics weak at the knees.  Neal Martin of Vinous described an unexpected encounter with the 1975 Scharzhofberger TBA: “Though the bottle is still on the other side of the room on its way to the dining table, I instantly register that it is a) exceedingly rare and extraordinarily expensive and b) already open for serving. The thought that goes through my head is: “Is that really what I think it is?” I was. The result. “It might well be the greatest Riesling that I have ever consumed.” Focusing on making tiny yields of botrytised wine on a steep slope was far removed from the main route Germany took in the last decades of the 20th century. The 1971 wine law classified quality on the basis of the sugar content of grapes rather than origin–and quality. "That law was probably the origin of German wine's misery," says Müller.  "The idea of terroir was disregarded...but now people are trying to bring back the [concept of] terroir -that's what the VDP classification is all about." A new generation of drinkers with no knowledge of Germany's wine law cock ups nor the 1985 glycol scandal gives Müller hope for the country's future and his one and only grape: Riesling. "When I took over the winery nobody wanted to drink it. It's becoming much better. That said, I still think Riesling is not like Chardonnay-something that everybody wants to drink – I don't see people going to a restaurant and saying 'I want a bottle of Riesling.'" The world's wine drinkers are hardly clamouring to fill their cellars with sweet wines either but this is a niche that Müller has nailed."The style of wine we make here is really unique and it’s quite impossible to make it anywhere else. When you have something so unique, you have to stick with it." However, Müller's wine has something over and beyond his fellow sweet wine producers.  "There are differences –there is nobody who is running the yields as low as we do. It’s not only because of old vines...you have a lot of small things that add up. The proof is in the glass: from QbA and Kabinett all the way up the fruit-sweetness scale Trockenbeerenauslese, the slatey Scharzhofberg offers a fine framework to carry any sweetness while the heavier soils of the four-hectare Braune Kupp vineyard, just north of the village, of Wiltingen makes a weightier, succulent style of Rieslings. "Inevitably there are better vintages than others but what makes a perfect season for him? “I have two kinds of perfect years: one is a classic no botrytis year like 2015 when everything is ripe and that’s very classic. But I also have the years when there’s botrytis like 2005 and 2010 and I’d say that the greatest wines come from those years.  When I was young there was always discussions between the proponents of 1971 vs 1972: ‘71 is non-botrytis, straight vintage, ‘72 is full-on botrytis. Ultimately it’s a personal preference.”When it comes to the more recent 2017 and 2018 vintages they too have their distinct personalities with the frost-bitten 2017 firm and austere; the warmth of the 2018 season shows through in its charm. The burning questions is how to get your hands on these gold-dust-like sweet wines? It’s an unusual route to market: a wine auction takes place in the city of Trier on the third weekend of September and individuals must register with an approved broker to bid for an allocation from the offered cask.  There are tiny quantities of his TBA available, sometimes the production volume is double digits of litres. However, Müller notes that global warming is increasing the quantity of botrytised wine: “We have had more success with these wines so we are producing slightly larger quantities and we are increasingly able to sell through ‘regular’ channels. ”The rarity value and the deserved aura that surrounds his wines means there will always be strong demand in the secondary market, which inevitably leads to articles about Müller’s Scharzhofberg TBA being the world’s most expensive Riesling. Greatness has never come cheap." Browse more Editorial 

Hailed as one of the world's finest Riesling producers with prices to match, the Müller family has never been afraid of a challenge from their first days as a vineyard owner under French occupation, through two World Wars and a wine system that awarded quantity over quality.

Egon Müller IV discusses family, the state of German wine and Riesling.

Egon Muller on Riesling wines

Egon Muller: The travails of Riesling royalty

Politicians don’t always follow through on their promises but US President Franklin D. Roosevelt made good on one of his 1932 election pledges: repealing Prohibition just weeks before the start of 1934. After nearly 14 dry years, producing and drinking alcohol was once again legalised and revellers could happily toast the New Year.  For Californian winemakers, however, there was still little to celebrate. What had been a fledgling wine industry before 1920 had been left in tatters, the number of Napa wineries falling from 120 to less than a third of that. A long, bumpy road to Cabernet greatness was barely conceivable for those remaining with so-called Burgundy, Chablis and Claret making the running.  However, there were some bright notes. The region’s pioneer, Robert Mondavi, arrived in the Valley in 1936 and said that he was "tremendously impressed by what I called the big four of the California wine industry . . . Inglenook, B.V. [Beaulieu Vineyard], Beringer Brothers, and Larkmead" and allegedly bowed his head when he drove past the first two. It would be another 50 years before Bill Harlan bought his 240-acre property that became Harlan Estate, which would go on to craft the “single most profound red wine made not just in California, but the world” according to Robert Parker.  On the other side of the Atlantic, there was little to smile about in the 1930s either. France –and the world’s finest vineyards encountered the same malaise as the world’s economy but 1934 provided the one bright spot. Admittedly, the vintage didn’t quite produce the fireworks of 1928 or 1929, but it would be more than a decade until there was anything to match the 1934 vintage.   Among the recipients of a bountiful harvest was Burgundy. The late Henri Jayer –the man who converted an artichoke patch in Vosne-Romanée to the esteemed Cros Parantoux vineyard–said,“In Burgundy, it is a rare occurrence to see quantity happily associated with quality, as in 1999, 1959 and 1934.” Amid a depression, though, it wasn’t enough to simply make great wine; you had to sell it. In an effort to breathe life into the market, a fraternity known as the Confrérie des Chevaliers du Tastevin was established. Its founders declared “If our cellars are full, we must invite our friends to help us empty them.” Their evenings of Pinot-swilling bonhomie brought some cheer before they were brought to a halt by the onset of war in 1939. With little appetite for parties in the mid-thirties, long-term vision was required for the Champenois, too. The powers that be at Moët & Chandon stepped up to the plate, designating what was an excellent year for the region as only the third-ever vintage of its super luxury cuvée Dom Pérignon. The wine wouldn’t see the light of day until 1951, when the president of France, foreign kings and the future Pope Jean Paul XXIII saw off several of the 1,200 cases at various events.  It wasn’t just eastern France that enjoyed a break from the string of dismal vintages. A prodigious harvest in Bordeaux produced some muscular wines destined for the long haul. Their longevity remains evident to this day, particularly in magnum, and has been a pivotal vintage for Neal Martin, imbuing him with greater respect for Saint-Émilion property Cheval Blanc.  “The vintage that alerted me to the pedigree of Cheval Blanc’s old vintages is not the legendary 1947 nor the fabled 1921, but the 1934,” he explained in 2019. “This was several years after Albert Laussac Fourcaud passed away, having created a société civile between his children to ensure that the property would remain in his family. First poured at a remarkable tasting in London themed around that vintage, the 1934 Cheval Blanc lit up the evening”. The world might have changed in the last eight decades but some things, it seems, can be counted on to remain the same. Read more Editorial 

For the latest installment in our Vintage Series, we explore the 1934 vintage. A year that saw the US wine market begin its slow recovery after the repeal of the Prohibition Act and Europe finally ended a dismal streak, 1934 produced some of the finest wines in the pre-World War II era.

Exploring the 1934 vintage, when the US wine market began its slow recovery after the repeal of the Prohibition Act and Europe finally ended a dismal streak

Elgin

Please wait

Elgin

Filter

Please wait

Related articles