History is often a matter of supposition, of joining faded dots, but of this we can be sure. On February 2nd 1659, Jan van Riebeek, the first governor of the Dutch Cape Colony, wrote an entry in his diary: ‘Today, God be praised, wine was pressed for the first time from Cape grapes.’ He was less specific about the varieties used, mentioning ‘Muscadel and other white, round grapes.’ Were chenin blanc and semillon among them? Alas, we do not know.
Attaching a specific date to South Africa’s so-called New Wave is a more nebulous affair. It’s often said that the movement’s genesis coincided with the first fully democratic elections – and the belated defenestration of apartheid – in 1994, but its initial ripples are much older than that.
Like many great initiatives, the New Wave began at a lunch
People may disagree, but I think the New Wave began at a lunch in April 1974. The advertising executive Tim Hamilton Russell of J. Walter Thompson had invited two Cape-based winemaking legends, Dr Julius Laszlo and Desiderius Pongrácz, to his holiday home in Hermanus, 75 miles to the south-east of Cape Town, to talk about wine, and, more specifically, an historic property he was thinking of buying in Stellenbosch. Over a bottle or two of wine, the Eastern Europeans asked him a question that would change the future of South African wine: ‘Why not grow wine here?’
The hurdles were steeple-chase high and forbidding. First, no one had ever done it before. Secondly, and more importantly, it was illegal to establish a vineyard on the shores of Walker Bay under the protectionist and restrictive quota system in place at the time, which effectively determined where people could and couldn’t plant grapes. But Hamilton Russell, a visionary who wasn’t scared of a fight with the authorities, went ahead.
On February 27th 1975, he purchased Braemar, a 166-hectare property in the nearby Hemel-en-Aarde Valley that was known for the quality of the sand it sold to local construction firms. His battles with the people who ran the South African wine industry are the stuff of legend – he was arrested, fined and given a suspended sentence at one point – but he made his dream of producing ‘Burgundy by the sea’ come true, releasing his first pinot noir, called Gran Vin Noir 1981, at an ambitious price, followed two years later by a Chardonnay, Premier Vin Blanc 1983. Without him and his determination, the New Wave would not have happened as it did.
Hamilton Russell wasn’t the only important pioneer. Over in equally cool Elgin, a region known for the quality of its apples but not its grapes, a neurosurgeon called Dr Paul Clüver planted a line-up of experimental varieties, including riesling, chardonnay, cabernet sauvignon and merlot on his family’s De Rust Estate, in 1987. To do so, he had to purchase a quota from a company called Rainbow Chicken in Worcester and transfer it to Elgin.
Other pre-1994 figures who deserve a mention in the New Wave story, most notably because of their support for something called the Winelands Commitment that was published in 1989, are the journalists John Platter and Erica Platter, who also owned Delaire and Clos du Ciel, Simon Barlow of Rustenberg and Peter Younghusband of Haute Provence. They, along with Tim Hamilton Russell, who was its spokesperson, campaigned for better wages, housing, education, training and opportunities for workers on wine farms. They also called for an end to apartheid as a ‘sine qua non’, as John Platter put it.
The end of apartheid brought South Africa’s winemakers back into the fold
Nelson Mandela’s release from prison in 1990, which, in turn, led to universal suffrage and the subsequent election of the African National Congress, brought South Africa back into the international fold. The results were felt in the local wine industry as well as on a broader global stage. Sanctions were dropped; no longer regarded as the skunks of the world, Cape winemakers began to travel overseas. Not just to sell their wines, but to learn.
1994 was a tipping point. Indeed, you could argue that the modern South African wine industry began then. There were, of course, some very good things made before that, not least by the likes of Kanonkop, Meerlust, Thelema and, indeed, Hamilton Russell Vineyards. Remember that the Cape has been growing grapes since the mid-17th century. But the overwhelming majority of what we think of as New Wave producers have been established in the last 32 years.
Most did not own vineyards, at least at the start. They took advantage of comparatively cheap grape prices and largely undervalued old vine parcels, often in remote places. Many of these were discovered by Rosa Kruger of the Old Vine Project, who had a knack for recognising winemaking talent and pairing it with the right sites.
The 1990s was a time of energy and reinvention
Things moved quickly in the 1990s. It was a time of great energy and camaraderie; a time to take a few risks in what was effectively a country reborn. At the end of the decade, I attended a tasting that was literally held in a garage, bringing together a bunch of small producers called the Garagistes, who were inspired by the example of Jean-Luc Thunevin in Pomerol. Clive Torr and Cathy Marshall were key members.
As well as making her own wines under the Barefoot Wine Company label, Marshall had been the winemaker for Ken Forrester, a relocated Johannesburg restaurateur, who founded the Chenin Blanc Association in 1998. Forrester, a brilliant marketeer, was arguably the first person to take Chenin Blanc, the Cape’s most planted grape, seriously. He, too, was a key part of the New Wave, especially on overseas’ markets. Just as significantly, Marc Kent of Boekenhoutskloof made his first, world-class syrah in 1997.
Not long before that, in 1995, Charles Back of Fairview in Paarl went to the Swartland Winery co-operative, looking for some cheap raw material for his successful Goats do Roam brand. There, in a region famous for the quality of its wheat, not grapes, he tasted a stunning sauvignon blanc. It was so good that he bought the vineyard that produced it – Klein Amoskuil near Malmesbury – the same afternoon. Back replanted the vineyards and employed a young winemaker, Eben Sadie, who was to become the leading figure in the New Wave and a global superstar, to run his new venture, Spice Route, in 1998.
In 2000, Sadie went out on his own making a series of increasingly brilliant wines over the ensuing decades. He started with 14 barrels of syrah and R9,000 (£725 at the time) to his name, selling scrap metal at weekends to make ends meet. Other key figures in what became known as the Swartland Revolution, a name dreamt up by Marc Kent, Sadie and Chris and Andrea Mullineux, newly arrived in the region in 2008, over breakfast in a diner in Paso Robles in California in April 2010. Later that year, back in South Africa, the four of them, joined by Adi Badenhorst of AA Badenhorst and Callie Louw of Porseleinberg, fronted the first festival of the same name.
This loose grouping is behind some of the most exciting wines in the world
The New Wave has never been about a single region. As well as those I’ve mentioned in this piece, it has achieved great things in some very diverse places across the Western Cape: Bot River, Breedekloof, the Ceres Plateau, Citrusdal, Elim, Greyton, Malgas and the Polkadraai Hills, among others. At the top end, I’d say 80% of the best producers in Africa belong to this loose grouping. They are making some of the most exciting wines in the world.
The first New Wave tasting was held in the UK in 2015. From memory, it was in a record shop, full of young winemakers with dreams, talent and ambition, many of them sharing a common interest in surfing. Over the last two years, I’ve had the chance to re-taste some of the 2015 and 2016 releases a decade on. It’s impressive how well many of them have aged. Tim Hamilton Russel is no longer with us – although his brilliant son Anthony still runs Hamilton Russell Vineyards – but I think he would have been proud of what’s happened since 1974. His vision and tenacity were what started it all.
