South Africa is one of the most exciting wine-producing nations right now. A new generation – led by the likes of Eben Sadie, the Mullineux, Chris Alheit and many more – has put the Cape firmly on the fine wine agenda. Its pinpoint Chenin Blanc, serious Syrah and laidback winemakers have made it the darling of the industry – yet this modish group of surfer-cum-winemakers seems a world away from the sweet wines of Constantia.  “Constantia Wyn” was South Africa’s original vinous export – savoured by the good and great of the 18th and 19th centuries. Bismarck, Frederick the Great, Louis XVI and George Washington are all noted to have enjoyed it, while Napoleon had vast volumes shipped to him in exile on St Helena (drinking up to a bottle a day) – and it was supposedly the only thing he wished to consume on his deathbed. The wine is mentioned by Dickens, Dumas and Baudelaire, with Jane Austen’s Mrs Jennings in Sense and Sensibility famously recommending it for “its healing powers on a disappointed heart”.  How, then, did such a legendary wine fall from grace? Economic downturn in the second half of the 19th century, followed by the arrival of mildew and phylloxera in the Cape, and the subsequent dominance of the KWV – the state-run cooperative – saw it vanish.  But in 1985, the Klein Constantia property was bought by Duggie Jooste. He replanted the vineyards, built a new winery and worked on overhauling the long-neglected estate. In 1986 he and winemaker Ross Gower produced the first vintage of Vin de Constance – their tribute to “Constantia Wyn” – released in 1990. It was made with Muscat de Frontignan (a particularly thick-skinned clone of Muscat) left to raisin on the vine, producing a luscious sweet wine, with no botrytis influence. It was an instant success – but quality and style was inconsistent, and Vin de Constance was just one wine in the range, rather than a focus.   It was only in 2012 that Klein Constantia embarked on a new chapter. The property had been for sale for a while and, as Vice Chairman Hans Astrom told me, it was “a bit dusty” and severely in need of attention. It changed hands in 2011, with Zdenek Bakala – an American-Czech billionaire – and British banker Charles Harman taking over, merging a year later with the Stellenbosch estate Anwilka, part-owned by Duggie Jooste’s son Lowell Jooste, Hubert de Boüard (of Ch. Angélus) and Bruno Prats (previously of Cos d’Estournel). Matthew Day – who had worked at the property since 2008 – took over as winemaker. While the estate still produces a full range of whites and reds, Vin de Constance is its flagship.  Now, a decade on, the importance of this shift is shining through. Being a “legacy winery” used to be “what got us in the door”, Day explains, but Klein Constantia is no longer trading on its past. The wines made between 1986 and 2012 were experimental, Day notes – with bottlings ranging significantly in sweetness (from 80 to 180g/l residual sugar) – but they were “vital in figuring out where we are going”. His favourites from that era are the 1987, 1991, 1995, 1996 and 2001 (“with 1991 and 1987 being at the top of that list”), but he’s more excited about the wines he’s producing today. “The older Vin de Constances are more in the style of being sweet wines, whereas the newer vintages are just wines,” adds Day.   Since 2012, they have gradually evolved the style, striving for balance and freshness, with increased precision. For Day, the aim is to make “a sweet wine that doesn’t taste sweet”.  The first shifts were in the vineyard, which since the mid-2000s has been farmed sustainably with some organic and biodynamic practices. The team planted more bush vines that ripen and raisin earlier in the season, therefore retaining more acidity. While they used to pick parcels from January to have high-acid components for blending, now – with the bush vines – they can pick a more uniformly ripe crop, yet not sacrifice acidity.  The end goal remains to have as many components as possible for blending, with the harvest team picking in passes and bringing between one and five kilograms of grapes in per day. While the wine used to vary in alcohol and sugar level, they now aim for around 165g/l residual sugar and 14% alcohol – where they think the best balance is found, varying slightly according to vintage.   The 2016 vintage was the first to be made in a new cellar – a practical and hygienic space. As for what actually happens in the cellar, the key changes have been around skin contact and élevage. The must now spends a week on skins, inoculated with a non-saccharomyces yeast to protect them from biological contamination and the development of volatile acidity, extracting all-important flavour compounds, but not phenolics. They then inoculate for alcoholic fermentation, which lasts between one and three months. They also started re-introducing the use of foudre for ageing the wines in 2016. From 2019, the wine will spend its first 1.5 years in new 500-litre barrels (encouraging the evolution of secondary flavours), before being transferred to older foudre for another 1.5 years (giving oak influence but without the ageing effect of micro-oxygenation).   Tasting the 2012 alongside the 2019 highlights the differences. The two vintages were similarly cool, both picked in April, and although the residual sugar is almost identical, the 2019 feels significantly fresher – with a pithy, textured freshness that offsets its sweetness.   This whimsical wine of yore might feel like a counter to the nation’s new wave, but it’s not so, says Day. “For me, Klein Constantia has always been at the forefront of the movement, but in a completely different way. We might not be as trendy as some of the newer producers, but we like to think the work we have done with Vin de Constance over the past decade has shown the world that South Africa has the potential to compete with the best of the best in the world.”   Browse all current listings from Klein Constantia or browse more Editorial

Loved by Dickens, Austen and Napoleon, the sweet wines of Constantia were legendary in the 18th and 19th century. But Klein Constantia – the estate revived in the 1980s – is done with looking back. Sophie Thorpe caught up with winemaker Matthew Day to find out what lies ahead 

Klein Constantia’s winemaker Matthew Day on the evolution of Vin de Constance, South Africa’s most iconic and historic sweet wine

A new era for Klein Constantia’s Vin de Constance

A constant evolution: Vin de Constance

The 2020 vintage was challenging for most vignerons. But for the Durantou family, it was a year that demanded everything of them. Denis Durantou – patriarch and leading light of Pomerol – passed away on 12th May. For many people, their day-job would be the last thing on their minds. But for the Durantous, they threw themselves into work, into the vines.  “Dad passed away right in the middle of the pouring rain in spring," Noëmie Durantou 
Reilhac, Denis’s daughter – who has taken over running the estate – explains. “… Working is our way to deal with things.” With the rain, there was immense mildew pressure and risk to their crop – they had to go on, getting into the vineyard to spray and protect their fruit. Her voice unsurprisingly thick with emotion, she tells me how it was a way to be close to her father – in amongst the vines that he so loved.   Denis Durantou was first and foremost a vigneron – an increasingly rare breed in the polished world of Bordeaux. While Ch. l’Eglise-Clinet had been in the Durantou family for generations, it was leased out to Pierre Lasserre of neighbouring Clos René for over 40 years. Denis arrived in 1982, fully taking over the property a year later, and transforming the then rustic estate into one of the region’s most respected.   The 1998 vintage was pivotal – putting the property, and the talents of Denis Durantou, firmly on the map. While the wines earned high scores (and even higher prices), Denis remained grounded. He continued to run the show, staying just as involved in the day-to-day work; walking the vines and making the wine, getting dirt under his fingernails.  As the reputation of l’Eglise-Clinet soared, he became committed to producing more affordable, “everyday” wines. He acquired Ch. les Cruzelles (in Lalande-de-Pomerol in 2000) and Montlandrie (in the Côtes de Castillon in 2009), while also leasing vines in Saint-Emilion at Saintayme (from 2012). These “lesser” wines might not have been the reason for his fame, but they have long been an insider choice – offering stunning value. Each of his wines was made with precision, finesse and elegance – but he constantly questioned his decisions and sought to do better.  While Denis himself may have passed away, his passion and philosophy lives on. There was something very salt-of-the-earth about the way that Noëmie tells me: “When you have no choice, you have to take action.” The family – Denis’s widow and artist Marie Reilhac, and his three daughters, Alix, Constance and Noëmie – pulled together, dedicating themselves to crafting wines worthy of Denis’s legacy. Not – of course – that they’d take any of the credit.  “We can thank the vines,” Noëmie tells me. “They are living beings and we ask them to go through a lot.” Explaining the unusually extreme conditions of 2020, she says: “If you were drinking a gallon of water every hour for a month, and then no water for two months…”  The vintage kept them on their toes, but for Noëmie it was a fascinating and exciting year, one she saw as an opportunity to learn more than ever. While the property’s style is always elegant, with careful extraction and cool fermentations (never over 25 or 26˚C), this year that was particularly crucial because of the thick skins and ripeness of the fruit. “I like this idea that the vines had gone through so much, [we] had to treat [them] with delicacy,” Noëmie explains.  As for the wines, she’s pleased – and thinks they’ll be even better in six months’ time when they’ve finished élevage. She describes them as very fruity and juicy, but like “a flower garden in the rain”. For her, élevage was of particular importance this year – a risk that it could have been “very charming, very seductive, but not as deep as it could be”. Time in barrel, however, has brought depth to the year’s “flashy fruit”.   The emphasis chez Durantou is on purity of fruit, and expressing each property’s respective site. The barrels used are key: they have always been very loyal to Darnajou. Denis conducted many trials over the years, and the aim is to bring texture – rather than flavour – to the wine with oak. “We want the pure flavour of the bunches of the vines,” Noëmie says. This is why their barrels are double-toasted, to avoid a vanillin character. They find Darnajou lends “sucrosity” – but it’s not wooden or too smoky, something they want to avoid. They use a tiny percentage of Taransaud as well – barrels that are “much more exotic and vanilla-like” – but only want a touch, as this intensity can easily overpower the wine.   Our conversation drifts into white Bordeaux – prompting a twinkle in her eye. “I’m a huge admirer of white winemakers – it’s so technical, you have basically 48 hours. With red wine, you have this little margin to adjust…” So can we look forward to white wines joining the Durantou portfolio? “I would love to – but I have a lot on my plate right now,” she says, laughing. “It might not be for another decade, definitely. First, I want to make sure things go well here.”  Heading up the team, working with Olivier Gautrat (who worked with Denis for 20 years), there’s certainly a lot for Noëmie to tackle – including the current replanting of plots used for La Petite Eglise, l’Eglise-Clinet’s second wine. But she’s not doing it alone – along with her mother, sisters and the rest of the team (“I have an amazing team – I loved working with them,” Noëmie gushes to me).   If the 2020s are any indication, there are no concerns about Denis’s legacy. These are stunning wines, with an aromatic finesse that belies the warmth of the year. Delicate florals are complemented by a glorious weight of fruit, fine but structured tannins, and yet also great freshness.   Only in her 20s, Noëmie is clearly talented – and her love of the vine shines through. Talking to her is energising, her joy infectious – but what is apparent is how she empathises with her vines. She might look fashionable in a tan leather jacket on our call, but you can feel that she’d sooner throw it off to get her hands dirty. She’s not just a winemaker, but a sensitive farmer. While I never had the privilege of meeting her father, I can only imagine he’d be incredibly proud.  Find out more about Ch. l’Eglise-Clinet or read more Editorial

Having taken over from her late father, Denis Durantou, Noëmie Durantou Reilhac of Ch. l’Eglise-Clinet tells Sophie Thorpe how the vines were a constant in an emotionally wrought year – and what lies ahead for the vigneron family 

Noëmie Durantou Reilhac of Ch. l’Eglise-Clinet on how the vines were a constant in an emotionally wrought year – and what lies ahead for the vigneron family 

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