Gangbusta Garagistes

A gang of garagistes invaded central Cape Town last night and presented the best new wine idea since Hendrik Boom harvested some grapes back in 1659, 300m away in the Company’s Gardens. Quite a change from flinging poo, which is the usual public performance in the city.

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The brief was to choose the 8 best wines from an extensive showcase tasting – 8 being the magical number for prosperity in China – but the wines were so good, 10 had to be chosen in the end. And no, this is not the usual banksta scam, even though the premises chosen, the Reserve at the Taj Hotel, used to be ABC Bank. Anything but Chardonnay, not! Wines were voted for by a perambulating procession of judges in the semi-Egyptian style, plus the opinion of punters, including the urologist with the smallest hands in the business. Great news for prostates.

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In a turn up for the cellar book, the two polls agreed. SBIG take note – the two Sauvignons Blanc chosen were both wooded and both were made with grapes from Elim. The Witch of the Waves, available for tasting this month as part of the Garagiste exhibition at the Pendock Wine Gallery @ Taj and a blanc fume from Giant Periwinkle.

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There were some amazing wines on offer: a duo of fiercely elegant numbers from Domaine Coutelier – a Merlot from Devon Valley and a Chardonnay from Durbanville – plus a sub-R100 Cabernet made in Parkview, Johannesburg, from grapes grown on Rustenberg in Stellenbosch, below.

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Belgusti is the first Cinnabar Cabernet, made in Muizenberg in an apartment on the first floor of the ugliest block of flats since the terrible Tampon Towers of Cape Town, a triumph for Cape architecture, not. There was a revelation of a Cabernet from a former dominee called Osbloed while his wine is quite appropriately named Openbaring and a ripe and reasonably priced Stellenbosch Chardonnay from Clive Torr. A torrific (geddit?) drop.

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The Dweller by the Oak was my pick of a very strong line up from Van Eck Family & Friends, a heck (geddit?) of a wine and way better than those poseur potations from Hermit on the Pill that used to pollute the SA boutique producer panorama. No Platter poltroons, no superior-acting sommeliers, no chiskop commentators, not even a pygmy PR luvvie with warthog carbuncles. Just real wine and a real good time had by all.