Sweet, sweet nothings

Sweet, sweet nothings

A combination of consumer neglect and producer apathy has turned into a self-fulfilling prophecy.

In conversation with knowledgeable wine enthusiasts you couldn't get away with a one-liner like, "South Africa's Sauvignon Blancs are the best in the world." For a start, there would be no shortage of less patriotic souls willing to stake a claim for France or New Zealand.

Secondly, with three or four countries in contention, there's nothing clear-cut about the argument. The same is largely true about Chardonnay and Shiraz, and only the Californians (who admittedly do have two Judgements of Paris to support the position) would dispute France's primacy when it comes to Bordeaux blends.

Shift the focus to Muscadels and other fortified Muscats and South Africa is in with a pretty good chance. Australians would argue that their history and current production puts them ahead.

There something of a truth to half of this argument: their industry still takes the category quite seriously, even if their consumers haven't bought the deal. But if you use the benchmark of what still lurks in the cellars of producers (often unsold for want of demand) South Africa could certainly field a team that could comfortably take on the rest of the world.

Our Muscadels languish, abandoned as much by those who made them as by those who should be consuming them. It is too simplistic to say that this is because they are anachronisms - the artefacts of a bygone era - with no relevance in our lower-alcohol, low-sugar world. For a start, they are not much more alcoholic than many unfortified reds now on the market, nor has the message about lower sugars reached producers of our super-premium reds.

It is also not true that all fortified wines are in irrecoverable decline. The top end of the Port market is pretty solid, while the more commercial categories are not on life-support in their traditional markets. Madeira has come back from the brink, and is once again attracting serious investment.

Yet in South Africa we are treating our Muscadels as if time has passed them by. A whole new generation of wine drinkers has no idea of their quality - or even that they exist.

The 1953 KWV Jerepigo (of which there are still quite a few bottles in circulation) was the top South African wine at the 1995 SAA Shield competition against Australia.

When the result was announced several commentators complained that this was hardly the message South Africa needed to give the world at the end of the 20th century. We wanted to boast about our Cabernets and our Sauvignons, so we chose to deny the existence (and therefore the merits) of our Muscadels and our Jerepigos.

Unsurprisingly, the real players of the past are still the only seriously credible producers in the game - these wines are not an overnight creation. True, the young white wines can be very pretty, but easy on the eye is hardly the same thing as engaging.

If you are looking for great Muscadels, you need to seek out the mature cuvées from Monis, Weltevrede (Oupa se Wyn and Ouma se Wyn), Nuy, Domein Doornkraal and Mons Ruber.

Still, the real treasure trove lurks in the cellars of KWV, where there are wines dating back to the 1930s, some still in cask, and all with that wonderful caramel rancio which only age can deliver. These are rivals for the great vintages of Madeira and the Douro.

When it comes to such vinous gems, we are the happy beneficiaries of the prescience of generations of long-dead winemakers. The great sadness is that no-one is now laying down the volumes we will need to age if the wine drinkers of the second half of the 21st century are even to encounter them.

Michael Fridjhon is a leading wine writer and consultant with extensive international judging experience.