I discovered this wine at the vineyard, in South Africa, a few years ago. I had died and gone to wine heaven. It was less than the equivalent of ten Canadian dollars, we bought lots and took it to local restaurants (a Cape tradition), and it drank like a wine dream from decades past.
Meaning what? Well, it drinks as if a long lost artifact from France; there is nothing new world-y about it, nothing that smacks of wine consultant advice or some misguided attempt to garner wine accolades. It is 100% old school and it feels as if the techniques to produce it are in total alliance with the ancient stony ground that makes up the terroir.
On the nose, of the earth and earthy. On the tongue so brutally primitive it’s as if a time machine at work. It will make you think of combing through an attic treasure trove. It does not have the New Zealand knock-your-socks-off greenness, not by any margin. It is a mix of bright citrus—we got grapefruit—and aromas and an aftertaste of hay, straw, even as it warms, the barnyard. Eclectic. Unique. Satisfying.
It is, unfortunately, not anywhere near $10 CDN. Or $10 USD. In the UK you can find it, with some effort, for about £11 (which is around $17 CDN, and at that price an astonishing value). But in Vancouver it is hard to find, and when you find it, it is a whopping $33 (and the only reason we bought it was, aside from sentimentality, that I had a Christmas gift certificate which took the sting off).
Price: A hefty $33 at Liberty (in their fridge believe it or not).
Market Liquidity: DNA in the amber.