London Sunday Times / Mai 2010
Read here about Amanda Hyde's experience on the Donkey Walk through the Polkadraai Hills
Who said wine tours were only for buffs? They’re
fun for all in South Africa’s Cape Winelands, says a tipsy Amanda Hyde
(London Times)
(extract,
read full article here / pdf 3,9MB)
....Determined to get back to basics, we double back towards
Stellenbosch. Although most of the South African booze we buy in the UK
comes from big wineries, there are hundreds of smaller vineyards here
too. Bein is the tiniest of them all, just one, suntickled field in the
Polkadraai Hills outside town. We’ve booked a tour here that’s the
perfect antidote to our Quartier Français
marathon – a donkey-walking picnic.
‘Welcome, welcome,’ says Ingrid, who runs Bein alongside her husband
Luca. ‘We won’t be a moment, we’ve just getting Marge ready.’ Marge is a
donkey, who’s wearing the food we shall later eat during our
wine-tasting. We’ll also be accompanied by Rolex, a proud Jack Russell,
and Wanda, a demure bull-terrier.
We set off, tiny Ingrid with her windburn and gung-ho walk leading the
pack, then us, then gangly Luca trailing behind, alabaster legs poking
from socks and sandals. It takes 40 minutes to climb from Bein towards
our picnic spot, but that’s probably because we stop so many times to
admire the view – a picnic rug of green and gold plains topped by the
butter-dish rectangle of
Table Mountain. And there’s the locals to contend with…
‘Look
at him,’ my dad says, pointing to a line of vines. An owl is sitting in
its shade, staring at us angrily with huge yellow eyes. Amazed, we take
a couple of steps nearer, but he intensifies his glare before flying off
huffily towards the mountains. ‘Ah yes, he’s often there,’ says Luca
when we tell him. ‘And these two,’ he signals overhead, at kestrels
circling.
When we arrive at the tasting spot, it’s clear why Ingrid had stormed
ahead. She’s laid out fresh pastries and local strawberries on a gingham
tablecloth, to accompany a Bein Merlot and wines from the neighbours.
The chief wine-taster (dad) takes about two minutes to finish a glass of
the former (no spitting here!).
‘It’s great,’ he marvels. ‘Really smooth.’
So we polish off a whole bottle, and another of their immensely
drinkable but cheaper rosé. Then we sunbathe contentedly as the dogs
play on the grass and the donkeys munch on hay.
‘It’s like being in that French vineyard years ago,’ says mum
dreamily. ‘But this time, there’s no horrid taste in my mouth.’ This may
be wine-tasting at its most relaxed, but Luca takes his Merlot just as
seriously as the big guns. As we leave, he shows me his field and I’m
amazed. The vines each have the same number of branches, with the same
number of stems, which each have the same number of bunches, which each
have the same number of perfect, shiny grapes. I naively assume this is
key to viniculture, until I see tangled messes harbouring an
indiscriminate scattering of fruit at other wineries. Luca’s vines are
the Disney versions – cartoon-like in their perfection.
..........
(extract,
read full article here / pdf 3,9MB)