Part 4: Just One More Glass Of Wine...

Five Irish people and a hungover Brit embarking on a wine tasting tour in the African sun should be a recipe for carnage. Throw in the fact I was woken at 5am by howling winds barrelling along the road by our hotel and in my sleep-deprived state the spittoon placed in front of me at our first stop could well double as a bucket for last night’s indulgences, which are coming back to haunt me. 

We’ve been picked up at 8.30 by our tour guide Gerry and introduced to our fellow “connoisseurs” on the minibus; a family of four from Cork - Peter and Eleanor and their student daughters, Lorna and Clodagh. There are over 165 wine farms in the Cape Winelands and we are due to visit just three, but Gerry - looking at the busload he has with him - suggests throwing in a fourth destination too, which even feeling a little under par, I join the Irish contingent in agreeing to. 

Near Paarl

Near Paarl

We’re all fairly quiet as we head out of Cape Town past the enormous Century City shopping mall, one of Africa’s largest, on the N1 highway which leads all the way to Johannesburg. However, our first stop changes all that. Fairview, near the town of Paarl, has 600 acres and produces over 2.4 million bottles a year. We are due to try just six. 

In front of each of us is placed a board containing various cubes of cheese - all produced on the farm. The sommelier lines up a glass for each of us and starts pouring generous tasting measures for the first wine but I have to ask him to slow down as the very thought of a drink is making me nauseous. It’s still only 9.30am

Cheese and wine

Cheese and wine

Gingerly I raise the Fairview viognier to my lips and as instructed have a sip, before trying the first cheese - a feta - designed to accompany it. The wine on its own is a challenge but the cheese transforms it. The Murphys all laugh as my expression changes from pallid reluctance to surprised appreciation. 

Coman, too, recovers fast despite us both feeling fragile but we are both still merely sipping the wine, whilst Peter and his eldest daughter Lorna, in particular, are knocking the glasses back with gusto. By the end of the six wines our recovery is well on its way and, aided by the incredible goats cheese coated in paprika and black pepper and a punchy gorgonzola, we feel sufficiently moved to purchase their accompanying wines - a bottle each of the Pegleg Carignan and Broken Barrel reds.

Coman and Lorna at Fairview Estate

Coman and Lorna at Fairview Estate

We all pile back in the van and are driven to the Spice Route farm next door where Gerry has sorted us out with an additional tasting of beer and gin. It well and truly breaks the ice and soon we’re getting along with the Murphy clan like a house on fire. 

Spice Route houses the Cape Brewing Company where we’re plied with frothy glasses of lager and pilsener, along with an amber weiss beer which has “notes” of banana and clove - much to mum Eleanor’s delight - and a pale ale which has flavours of passion fruit and lychee and hits the spot for us all. 

Drinking beer with the Murphys

Drinking beer with the Murphys

Straight after the beer we’re lead across the farm to the Wilderer gin distillery where a distinctly unamused young man has to put up with Eleanor asking for tonic in both the fiery apple and pear schnapps and the cinnamon-infused apple pie moonshine he reverently pours. His eyebrows raise even higher when Lorna - ever the student -  suggests we should “down in one, like a shot” and he explains that she’s meant to sip it and appreciate the taste.

He eventually relents on the tonic front, topping up the girl’s final glasses of aniseedy Fynbos gin, and Coman’s too with a local fizz, before we’re lead giggling from the room, the young bartender’s disapproval written all over his face. 

The Cape Winelands of Paarl

The Cape Winelands of Paarl

Next stop is the Morgenhof vineyard in Stellenbosch. It was originally built by a Dutch judge in the seventeenth century who would preside over court cases in the main barn in the morning and presumably drink his way through the afternoon. In an attempt to kill two birds with one stone, and possibly keep the Murphys sober, Gerry has arranged for us to have lunch alongside our wine tasting. 

We have a very good three course meal including mushroom risotto and fettuccine with blue cheese and caramelised walnuts but the main event is the twelve strong wine list, of which we’re allowed to sample five each. Coman and I choose different selections, tasting ten varieties as the meal progresses, while Peter and Eleanor also mix and match. 

Morgenhof Estate

Morgenhof Estate

One of the wines I order - the Merlot Cabernet Franc - tastes rather corked but we agree it can’t possibly be as an establishment as high end as this wouldn’t risk its reputation serving tainted produce. Peter however declares, in a Cork accent emboldened by a considerable skinful, “that’s not wine, that’s a weapon!” The Malbec however is spectacular. 

Lorna, deciding she prefers white just keeps asking for the same wine which in her wisdom she pronounces “chien blanc”, not realising she’s repeatedly asking the waitress for a white dog. Clodagh gives up and just asks for Coca Cola instead. 

View from Delaire Graff

View from Delaire Graff

By the end of lunch our palate is very muddled as is Lorna’s maths, her father suggesting she works out how to split the bill for our lunch as she’s soon to graduate with a degree in finance. 

Despite using a calculator, and trying several times, she’s way off the mark… with my O-level mental arithmetic beating her to it way before. “Sure, we don’t actually have to do maths to study finance,” she declares to her parents’ obvious dismay. 

After lunch, we drive past the outskirts of Stellenbosch passing the university, which is one of the main draws of the town, and continue on through a mountain range pass,  driving through one of the most beautiful farms in the Western Cape - Delair Graff, the self-styled ‘Jewel of the Cape Winelands’, which is stunning and according to Gerry costs an absolute fortune to stay in; a fact corroborated by a couple we meet in a few days’ time. 

Delaire Graff

Delaire Graff

As we traverse the winelands we travel through the town of Pniel, enjoying the incredible landscapes, manicured farms, orchards of fruit trees, lush green valleys (fully irrigated despite the long term drought) and stunning mountains. Soon we pass the huge Boschendal estate, which I’d visited for lunch on my previous trip. Founded in 1685 it puts on events and concerts and is awaiting Guinness Book of Records recognition for its gardens which they believe boasts the biggest variety of roses in the world. I don’t remember them. 

Meanwhile Gerry provides a soporific commentary on all we are seeing, and unsurprisingly after the heat and alcohol, Coman and the Murphys all doze peacefully. Leaving the Stellenbosch area we move into Franschhoek, the French region bequeathed to Hugenot exiles in the 1600 by the Dutch, our road running parallel for a while to the wine train which stops at eight farms including Rickety Bridge and our final destination of Grand Provence. 

Rickety Bridge

Rickety Bridge

However, before we tuck into another wine tasting we get the chance to explore the quaint little town of Franschhoek itself, checking out the galleries and souvenir shops, popping into its pretty little Lutheran church and, um, buying a Persian rug... not quite what we were expecting to do today, but a bit of hard-bargaining combined with the pound-vs-rand means it’s too good an opportunity miss. It adds a hefty weight to our baggage home!

The Grand Provence estate, just outside the town, is utterly beautiful. Founded in 1694 it has gorgeous gardens full of modern sculptures, throughout which are dotted tables full of people tasting wine. We find a spare one and are given four wines to sample. We’re all a bit past caring now and try the various glasses in a fairly perfunctory manner. To be honest, despite the fabulous setting they’re the least impressive of the day - but I’m not sure our critical faculties are quite as finely honed as earlier. 

Franschhoek Church

Franschhoek Church

On our drive back to Cape Town Gerry tells us about The Coons Parade which will bring traffic to a standstill later, the 2nd of January being a national holiday when black servants were traditionally given the day off by their white masters. I’m slightly aghast at the name and get him to both repeat it and spell it to ensure I’ve heard him correctly. 

Turns out it’s shorthand for cocoon, and the parade features people dressed as minstrels and in cocoon costumes, which are freakishly disturbing but meant to symbolise emerging into freedom. I mention to Gerry that in the U.K. the terminology would be viewed as pejorative but he’s totally unaware of that and says he used to love the event as a child - although he was terrified by the costumes. 

Entrance to Grand Provence

Entrance to Grand Provence

Sadly, he tells us our plans to go for dinner watching the sunset  in Camps Bay are wildly ambitious as we’d end up stuck there with the traffic chaos and face an impossible journey back to our hotel so, mindful of the fact we need an early night to prepare for a long drive tomorrow, we walk down to the Waterfront instead. 

There we find an Indian restaurant in Victoria Wharf called Bukhara where we tuck into a paneer tikka and vegetable kormas and jalfrezi whilst overlooking the harbour and a giant cruise ship. Unsurprisingly, we don’t order wine - it’s just sparkling water for two please, waiter!