Although Klein Constantia is a New World winery, it’s certainly not lacking in history, is it? 

Oh, I’ve tasted Vin de Constance dating back as far as 1791 – because it lasts forever, basically – and that’s not even the beginning of the story. So, in 1685, Simon van der Stel, the governor of the Cape, was granted land for a farm. He was meticulous about choosing which land… he went as far as sending soil samples back to Europe to have analysed to make sure it was good for grapes. He chose what he called Constantia Valley. The other reasons were its sheer beauty – Table Mountain behind, a view of the whole of False Bay – it’s a stunning spot. And lying on the road between the docks at Simon’s Town and Cape Town’s main fort was also helpful. After his death, the valley was broken up, and the Klein [he pronounces it “klayn”, the Afrikaans way] section eventually went to the Colijn and then Cloete families. 

And they always made sweet wine? Was that so it lasted on ships going back to Europe? 

They made a lot of different styles. But only the Sweet Wine of Constantia, as they called it, was making its way to Europe (and even the USA – there are reports of Washington and Adams drinking it). Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette had it in their cellars, as did Frederick the Great. The other day, I had lunch with the French consul-general of Saint Helena, who is an expert on Napoleon Bonaparte. He told me there was a rumour that the old “sweet wine of Constantia” he was getting was poisoned with cyanide, and that’s how he was finished off, but I’ve tasted the 1821, which is the year he died, and I’m fine. 

Probably not poisoned at source then! 

Well, the consul-general said that it’s more likely that Napoleon was just so sickly in the final days, that the only thing he could consume was a spoonful of the sweet wine of Constantia. But there are other stories connected to Vin de Constance, told by more famous writers – Dickens, Baudelaire and Dumas mentioned it, and a Jane Austen character calls it a cure for a broken heart in Sense and Sensibility. 

But there’s a 100-year gap in production from the 1880s, isn’t there? 

Yes, due to many factors at the time – social, political, phylloxera and mildew – and people’s taste for drier wines.  

So, how did it return? 

In the 1980s, the department of viticulture and oenology at Stellenbosch University had been doing research into how the sweet wine of Constantia used to be made and had actually approached another wine farm in Constantia [to recreate it] but were told to bugger off, basically. But Klein Constantia had new owners and loved the idea. 

How exactly is Vin de Constance made? 

We use white muscat de frontignan grapes, which are very resistant to rot, and they shrivel up to form raisins. They are from cuttings that trace back to the vines originally planted by van der Stel. We grow bush vines as they would have traditionally, not trailed up, so they’re low to the ground and get a lot of sunlight. It’s a natural sweet wine – no botrytis. And we pick in batches, around 25 times in the season. So, we pick grapes when they have high acidity, then let other parcels ripen, ripen, ripen to get increasing amounts of sugar.  

How long does that take? 

Usually about two months – usually mid-February to mid-April, but we’ve started as early as January. It’s a long harvest. The worst year was my first as head winemaker, in 2012 – my predecessor left unexpectedly, and I was suddenly in charge. The trouble was, I was due to get married on 31 April. We managed to get the harvest in by the 27th! And I had my bachelor party in the middle of that. 

Ouch. And then back to the winemaking straight after your wedding? What are the next steps? 

The juice spends a lot of time on the skins before pressing. And then we blend during fermentation to get that balance between acid and sugar. I go from tank to tank and blend almost every day for about two months. And if you get that right, the fermentation stops naturally by itself, without intervening. Then there’s another balancing act in the barrel. We start it in new oak barrels that contain 500L so you maximise the oxygen uptake to develop secondary flavours, before it is transferred to huge 4,500L foudres where there is barely any oxygen interaction, so that means it can very slowly integrate and develop tertiary flavours. 

Normally, you age Vin de Constance for three to five years before release. So, for example, the 2021 has that lovely fresh and floral aroma balanced with stone fruits. What made you hold the 2010 for 15 years? 

One of the aims at Klein Constantia is to be as green as possible, but in 2010 we went too far too soon; we went organic, biodynamic, everything, on vines that had been used to being pampered and manicured. And they couldn’t take it. We ended up with one bunch of grapes per vine – not enough for a Vin de Constance vintage. So, we made it totally differently – fermented on the skins, punched down – filled seven barrels and saved it for a rainy day. And we decided it was right for bottling this year. 

I should say so – it’s delicious! Like a really good Seville orange marmalade – sweet and dry in perfect balance. A lot more depth than the 2021. 

You get more of that wood influence, a lot more of that toffee, mocha, almost walnut character on it, as well as the marmalade, ginger and honeycomb. 

Although Vin de Constance is your most celebrated wine, your bread and butter seems to be sauvignon blanc. 

I love sauvignon blanc – I think it is one of the greatest cultivars in the world. But a lot of people are just doing it really badly and destroying the image of what sauvignon blanc should be. 

Are you talking about nations that are also rivals in rugby, by any chance? 

And, like, their sheep? Perhaps… Yes, certain nations but of course not all of their winemakers and not only there. A lot of people are making sauvignon blanc as a cash cow: bring the grapes in, ferment quickly, put it in the bottle and chuck it out there. They plant sauvignon blanc in the wrong places, then get a supplier’s chemical catalogue and throw in stuff [enriched yeasts, ascorbic acid, sulphur dioxide etc] to make it taste of something. We want to make a wine that represents the place – one of the oldest vineyards in the southern hemisphere. Vinifying every block separately, wild fermentation, letting it tick away naturally. My goal is to redefine what sauvignon blanc can be in the New World – a reflection of terroir, just as it is in Sancerre. 

Vin de Constance 2010 (£140) is available from specialist wine merchants. Other Vin de Constance bottles cost from around £60; Klein Constantia Estate sauvignon blanc costs around £14.50; kleinconstantia.com