I get a strange satisfaction when my vinous prejudices get knocked down. Perhaps it’s relief at further proof of the shallowness of those who think that one cannot be honest in approaching a wine when one knows what it is — those who believe that pre-judging always trumps actual judgment. But more, it’s a matter of delight in finding something new, and seeing a fine new vista open up.
My opinion of the grape variety called viognier has been pretty low since an initial foolish flirtation. (By the way, if you don’t know how to pronounce it, you could get sufficiently close with “vee-ON-year”.) It’s a grape that was little known outside its home in France’s northern Rhône valley until a few decades ago. Since then it has travelled the world and settled down all over the place, including South Africa, making lots of friends and at least a few enemies.
I’m among the latter. The billowing aromas of peach and apricot seem crudely obvious, usually accompanied by a high alcohol content and often some sugary sweetness. That’s all because the grape has little flavour until it gets very ripe and then it has too much flavour. When the enthusiastic winemaker adds oak to the equation, hoping to make us believe the wine grander, the result can be rather sickening. Some are now adding dollops of viognier to give, they imagine, aromatic excitement to blends — even some good ones. A little viognier goes a long way: a horribly long way, occasionally.
Okay, this is generalisation, and there always have been a few good local viogniers that tested the rule (The Foundry Viognier is one such). The past weeks have prised open my mind and taste buds a little further — even if I am not exactly a hymn-singing convert.
First, a delicious sweet version from Ridgeback, a winery in Paarl that is never to be sniffed at, especially for its reds (and the excellent value Vansha range, which includes a red and a white with admittedly acceptable admixtures of viognier). I don’t really care for Ridgeback Viognier, but the Natural Sweet 2010 version (in half bottles; R65) is delicious but not too show-off about it, packed with honey, peaches and citrus, and a dry apricot finish.
More special, though, is the (just) dry Viognier from Eagles’ Nest, a newish winery in Constantia that made a splash with its excellent Shiraz. It has produced a few good wines from viognier, better each year, but the 2009 makes a qualitative leap ahead.
It’s graceful and delicate, with a soft ripe tension, some complexity to its long-reverberating flavour; good value for R125. An undeniably fine wine — unless you think vinous distinction requires longevity. Viognier is rarely long-lived, and Eagles’ Nest is unlikely to be an exception; its acidity is just too soft. In a year or two it will start moving downhill, its music growing ever fainter (an oboe, I think), leaving just echoes of the pleasure it gave.