An unlikely hero
An unlikely hero
For a man whose empire grew out of the mine dumps of the East Rand, nothing is more important than the cultural experience.
Joe Berardo, born in Madeira in the ‘40s, left school at 13-and-a-half.
Twist champion of Lourenço Marques in the ‘60s, vegetable farmer in Parys in the ‘70s, King Croesus of the East Rand mine dumps in the ‘80s, friend of Winnie Mandela and alleged transcontinental cycad smuggler in the ‘90s - he's an unlikely international wine hero for the ‘noughties'. Yet fine wine is a consuming passion for one of Portugal's most famous sons.
With a one-third share in Sogrape - the largest wine company in Portugal that makes Mateus Rosé plus other vinous gems like Ferreira's Port - Joe is also assembling a string of top-class wineries, with a listing on the London Stock Exchange rumoured to be his ultimate goal.
Starting in the south in Alentejo is Quinta do Carmo, a Baron Eric de Rothschild (of Lafite fame) joint venture Joe bought into and now owns outright.
Just before the Vasco da Gama Bridge whisks you from the Sétubal Peninsula into Lisbon, you'll find his Quinta Bacalhôa, a 1480 Renaissance palace that looks like something out of The Name of the Rose.
Previously owned by a Bordeaux-infatuated American, Bacalhôa now produces the closest Portugal comes to classic Bordeaux using Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot and Petit Verdot, called Palácio da Bacalhôa.
On the other side of Lisbon is Quinta Loridos and Joe's Buddha park. In 2001, Joe and son Renato watched the destruction of the ancient Buddhas at Bamiyan in Afghanistan by the Taliban.
"Some men break down, others build," reflects Joe - and he wasn't joking, importing 6 000 tons of granite and marble Buddhas from China and installing them at Bombarral.
In the Bairrada appellation, he owns Aliança, a major sparkling-wine producer which also has quintas for still wine in Dão and Douro that produce such icons as Quinta dos Quatro Ventos.
We had the 2001 vintage at A Lareira restaurant in Alto do Nobre in April (rated 93/100 by Wine Spectator) but had to eat up when Joe was spied by some passing grannies who mobbed him.
As Joe commented, "Anyone can make or lose a billion, but to provide a cultural experience for two-and-a-half million people each year (in a country of 10 million) is something else."
Entrance to his many art galleries, museums and gardens is gratis, and even tasting his wine attracts no charge, so a grateful Portuguese public mobs him at every turn. We had to hide under the wisteria in the garden of his 18th-century Loridos manor house while Telmo fetched his five-year-old Jag.
There is a share in the Madeira Wine Company and another in a national wine distributor with the Eugénio de Almeida Foundation that makes the great Led Zeppelin Stairway to Heaven red in a Carthusian monastery at Quinta Valbom.
There is a share in the Australian winery Cumulus, plus interests in New Zealand. But Joe's biggest contribution is neither restoring medieval wineries nor fixing the Taliban.
Rather it is bringing rustic Portuguese wines kicking and screaming into the new millennium by hiring winemakers like Australian Peter Bright to champion an international style. He sells off no wine in bulk, bottles everything he makes, is even talking screw caps and puts his own name on a bottle.
Joe's wine empire grew out of those East Rand mine dumps he used to race up in his gold Rolls-Royce. As he says with the slightest trace of emotion, "Africa gave me a life for my dream."
Neil Pendock is wine writer for the Sunday Times and Financial Mail.
