From Tuscany to the Cape: A Tale of Two Wine Obsessions

From Tuscany to the Cape: A Tale of Two Wine Obsessions

Clara did not plan to become an Italian wine person. It happened the way most genuine obsessions do -- accidentally, on holiday, over a meal she hadn't expected to remember.

She was thirty-four, travelling alone through Tuscany for the first time, sitting at a small restaurant in Greve in Chianti with a carafe of house red and a plate of pasta that had arrived without being ordered. The wine was Chianti Classico -- Sangiovese grown in the hills between Florence and Siena, the same hills that Grand Duke Cosimo III de' Medici drew legal boundaries around in 1716, making it one of the world's first protected wine zones. Clara knew none of this at the time. She just knew the wine tasted like sour cherry and dried herbs and something faintly smoky she couldn't name, and that it made the pasta taste better, and that she ordered another carafe before the first one was finished.

Nandi had been Clara's closest friend since university. She had grown up in Cape Town, spent a decade in London, and moved back. She had been watching Clara's Italian wine obsession develop from a distance with the patience of someone who knew she had an answer and was waiting for the right moment to give it. When Clara called from a cellar in Barolo to describe a wine she said had changed the way she understood red wine, Nandi listened carefully, said very little, and started planning an itinerary.

Two trips. Two countries. One argument that neither of them would fully win -- and both of them would be better for having had.

Chapter One: The Red That Started Everything

Chianti and Sangiovese // Rust en Vrede Estate Red Blend 2021

Clara's first serious Italian red was a Chianti Classico from a small producer outside Greve whose name she had written down from a conversation with a stranger on a train. Sangiovese is Italy's most planted red grape -- the name likely derived from "Sanguis Jovis," the blood of Jupiter -- and Chianti Classico, produced in the historic heart of the region between Florence and Siena, is where the variety most consistently shows what it can do. By law it must contain at least 80% Sangiovese, with permitted varieties including Canaiolo, Colorino, and in more modern interpretations, Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot.

What struck Clara was the acidity. Sangiovese carries some of the highest natural acidity of any red grape in the world, and in a well-made Chianti Classico it runs through every sip like a wire -- keeping the red cherry fruit alive, cutting through the richness of the food, and giving the wine a savory, almost balsamic quality that made her want to eat more and drink more simultaneously. She had never tasted a red wine that behaved quite this way at the table. She ordered a second carafe, finished the notebook she had brought, and started writing on napkins.

Three weeks later in London, over dinner, Nandi heard the full account and asked one question. "Have you ever had a Stellenbosch red blend from a hillside estate that has been making wine on the same site since 1694?"

Clara had not.

"That's where we're starting," said Nandi.

When they finally made that trip, their first stop in Stellenbosch was Rust en Vrede -- an estate on the lower slopes of the Helderberg Mountain whose name translates from Afrikaans as "rest and peace," and which has specialized exclusively in red wine since the Engelbrecht family took ownership in 1977. The wine Nandi opened was the Estate Red Blend 2021 -- 59% Cabernet Sauvignon, 31% Shiraz, and 10% Merlot, blended in proportion to the varieties planted on the estate itself, making it, as the estate describes it, the most honest reflection of their terroir. It had spent 22 months in French oak, 20% new, before bottling. James Suckling had given it 94 points. 

Clara tasted it and said nothing for a while. Blackcurrant, black plum, and coffee on the nose -- and underneath all of that, an iron and graphite note that spoke directly to the decomposed granite soils of the Helderberg hillside. On the palate, blackberries, coffee beans, roasted herbs and olives gave way to a broad, fleshy mid-palate with encompassing tannins and rich dark fruit. Where Chianti's power came from acidity, this wine's power came from structure -- fine-grained tannins with real presence, a mid-palate density that Sangiovese rarely achieves, and a finish that pulled long and cedar-edged and unhurried. 

"It's not the same," Clara said.

"No," said Nandi. "It's not trying to be."

Clara asked how long it would age. Nandi told her 10 to 15 years from the vintage, at minimum. Clara bought six bottles before they left the estate, which was four more than she had planned to carry home, and arranged shipping for the rest.

Chapter Two: The King and His Cape Counterpart

Barolo and Nebbiolo // Stellenbosch's Collector Reds

The wine that deepened Clara's Italian obsession from interest into something closer to devotion was a 2017 Barolo she tasted in a cellar outside La Morra -- the Agricola Brandini R56, a single-vineyard Nebbiolo from the R56 block on the Brandini estate, made by sisters Giovanna and Serena Bagnasco and aged 30 months in large oak barrels before release. Barolo is made from Nebbiolo -- a grape whose name comes from "nebbia," the fog that settles across Piedmont's Langhe hills each autumn -- and it is among the most demanding wines in the world to drink young and the most rewarding to drink with age. The tannins are aggressive and the acidity relentless in youth. Barolo must age for at least 38 months before release, with 18 of those in wood. A Riserva must wait 62 months.

The 2017 that the cellar opened for Clara had done its time. Grilled porcini mushroom and botanical herbs on the nose, baked plum and new leather underneath -- then on the palate, raspberry jam, licorice, and a hint of coffee bean alongside close-grained tannins that had presence without aggression. Wine Spectator awarded it 92 points. Clara wrote three pages about it, ordered a bottle to be shipped home, and flew back with the kind of certainty that tends to precede a significant change of mind.

Nandi's answer to Barolo wasn't a single wine. It was a category -- the collector-grade single-vineyard reds of Stellenbosch that the region has been building quietly for four decades. Their first stop on the Stellenbosch collector's trail was Thelema, a family-owned estate perched on the Helshoogte Pass at an elevation that changes what the fruit does. Gyles Webb bought the property in 1983 -- a dilapidated fruit farm -- pulled out the orchards, planted vines, and by the mid-1990s had built one of the most sought-after estates in South Africa. The altitude is the key: high enough to slow ripening, cool enough to preserve the natural acidity and freshness that lower Stellenbosch sites can't always hold onto in warm vintages.

The wine Nandi opened was the Thelema Cabernet Sauvignon 2021 -- ripe blackcurrant, dark chocolate, and subtle pencil shavings on the nose, giving way to bold blackberry fruit and a palate that balances concentration with genuine freshness. Decanter awarded it 95 points. The tannins had presence without aggression, and the finish pulled long and precise in the way that high-altitude Stellenbosch Cabernet consistently does when the vintage cooperates. Aging potential sits at 10 to 15 years from vintage -- the kind of timeline that makes buying a case now feel less like an indulgence and more like a sensible decision.

When Clara tasted it she was quiet for longer than usual. "This has something to do with where it's grown," she said eventually. "You can taste the altitude."

"Most people don't notice that until the third or fourth glass," said Nandi. "You got there on the first."

Clara photographed the label and added it to a list she had started keeping on her phone.

Chapter Three: Bubbles, Compared

Prosecco and Cap Classique // Pierre Jourdan Blanc de Blancs

Clara's relationship with Italian sparkling wine had developed gradually. Prosecco -- made from the Glera grape in the hills around Conegliano and Valdobbiadene using the Charmat method, where secondary fermentation happens in pressurized tanks rather than inside the bottle -- had been part of her life long before she became serious about wine. Green apple, white peach, pear, gentle floral notes, fine frothy bubbles. Approachable, genuinely refreshing, built for aperitivo rather than for deep contemplation.

What changed her thinking about sparkling wine entirely was a Moscato d'Asti she tasted in Piedmont -- softly sparkling, barely 5.5% alcohol, made from Moscato Bianco in a style that arrested fermentation before the wine became fully effervescent. Orange blossom, fresh apricot, honeysuckle, a sweetness balanced by natural acidity that kept it feeling light rather than cloying. She drank two bottles on a train and arrived at her next destination slightly later and considerably happier than planned.

Nandi's response to the sparkling chapter came on day two of the Cape trip, in the underground cellar of a Franschhoek estate carved into the mountain. The wine she opened was the Pierre Jourdan Blanc de Blancs -- 100% Chardonnay, made in the traditional bottle-fermentation method, aged for a minimum of five years on the lees before release. The valley's mountain air drops the temperature enough each evening to slow the ripening season and preserve the precise, high-toned acidity that makes Chardonnay age with grace rather than fade. The nose opened on toasted citrus and lime, developing toward apple pie, candied peel, and a bakery note that came directly from those years in the bottle. On the palate it was lively, creamy, long, and clean.

Clara tasted it and said, very quietly, "This isn't like Prosecco."

"No," said Nandi. "It's been in the bottle for five years. Prosecco is usually drunk within a year of production."

"It's closer to--"

"Champagne," said Nandi. "You can say it."

Clara said it, then asked if they could see the cellar. Nandi had anticipated this and had already arranged the visit.

Chapter Four: The Sweet Wines

Moscato d'Asti and Marsala // Vin de Constance and Grand Constance

Sweet wine was not something Clara had taken seriously until Piedmont changed her mind. Moscato d'Asti had opened the door. But it was a serious aged Marsala Vergine she tasted at a producer in western Sicily -- dry, nutty, oxidative, smelling of dried apricot and salted caramel and toasted almond -- that made her understand that sweetness in wine was a spectrum, and that at the right end of that spectrum sat some of the most complex bottles she had encountered.

She wrote Nandi a message from Sicily that said simply: "I think I understand sweet wine now."

Nandi replied within minutes: "Wait until Constantia."

The Constantia Valley sits on the eastern slope of the Cape Peninsula just outside Cape Town, cooled by ocean air from both the Atlantic and Indian Oceans, and its relationship with great sweet wine goes back to the 1600s. The original Constantia wine -- made from Muscat de Frontignan on the estate now split between Groot Constantia and Klein Constantia -- was the most sought-after dessert wine in the world during the 18th century. Napoleon requested it during his exile on Saint Helena. Jane Austen wrote it into Sense and Sensibility as a remedy for a broken heart. Nelson Mandela counted it among his wines of choice.

The wine Nandi opened on their Constantia morning was Klein Constantia's Vin de Constance 2022 -- made from 100% Muscat de Frontignan, harvested in 18 separate passes through the same vineyard, each selecting only the berries that had reached exactly the right point of natural desiccation. The 2022 scored 97 points from Greg Sherwood and 96 from Neal Martin, who noted there was richness but no sense of heaviness and plenty of tension on the finish. Fresh apricot, quince, dried pineapple, fig preserve, salted caramel, elderflower, and a quiet salinity that kept the sweetness from ever tipping into excess.

Clara tasted it and said nothing for a full minute. Then: "The Moscato d'Asti was the door. This is what's behind it."

Nandi poured her a glass of the Groot Constantia Grand Constance alongside it -- the same valley, the same grape, a different estate and a different character. Richer, amber-hued, fermented on skins and aged 24 months in barrel, with orange zest, dried apricot, and a creamy sweetness lifted by Constantia's natural acidity. Tim Atkin had given it 93 points. Clara drank both slowly and refilled her notebook for the first time since Italy.

Chapter Five: The Whites

Gavi and Pinot Grigio // De Morgenzon Reserve Chenin Blanc 2023 and Raats Original Chenin Blanc 2023

Among the Italian whites that had lodged themselves most firmly in Clara's thinking was Gavi -- made from the Cortese grape in the DOCG hills near Genoa, where the Ligurian Sea's influence keeps temperatures cool and acidity high. Lemon zest, white peach, a faint almond note on the finish, and a minerality that felt almost saline. She had drunk it first with seafood pasta at a restaurant that didn't have a menu, and the pairing had the logic of something figured out over centuries rather than invented last Tuesday.

She had also developed a more nuanced view of Pinot Grigio than she had arrived in Italy with. At its best -- from Alto Adige in the far north, where the alpine influence adds a cool tension and length that the Veneto's warmer sites rarely achieve -- it was precise, mineral, and genuinely interesting. The problem was that most of what reached the US market was neither of those things. Too often it arrived stripped and neutral, the wine equivalent of a sentence with all the interesting words removed.

Nandi's answer to the Italian whites chapter came across two days of Stellenbosch tastings, and it centered on a grape Clara had never taken particularly seriously: Chenin Blanc. South Africa grows more Chenin Blanc than anywhere else in the world, including the Loire Valley where the variety originated, and the Cape's oldest examples -- some planted in the 1950s and 1960s and certified by the Old Vine Project -- produce wines with a minerality, sense of place, and quiet authority that Clara found immediately and unexpectedly compelling.

The first wine Nandi poured was the De Morgenzon Reserve Chenin Blanc 2023 -- made from vines planted in 1972 on decomposed granite soils between 250 and 300 metres above sea level, cooled by False Bay breezes during the warm summer months. Cellar master Alastair Rimmer harvests only from those low-yielding old bush vines and ferments in a combination of oak and stainless steel, which gives the wine both texture and freshness simultaneously. Decanter awarded it 91 points. The nose is complex and concentrated -- golden delicious apple, nutmeg, and almond -- with a honeyed quality that develops in the glass alongside a lively acidity and a long, clean finish. 

Clara tasted it and immediately thought of Gavi. The same almond-edged, citrus-precise quality. The same sense of a white wine that knew exactly where it had come from. But with more texture, a rounder mid-palate, and a depth that the Cortese grape, for all its charm, rarely achieved at the same price point.

"This is what Gavi wants to be when it grows up," she said, which was not entirely fair to Gavi but captured something true about the De Morgenzon.

Nandi then opened the second wine -- the Raats Original Chenin Blanc 2023, made by the Raats family from a blend of Stellenbosch granite and sandstone sites, unoaked, fermented in stainless steel and aged on lees for six months before bottling. Where the De Morgenzon was textured and layered, the Raats was all freshness and precision -- yellow apple, kiwi, green melon, and lime on the nose, a crisp mineral backbone on the palate, and a clean, mouth-watering finish that reminded Clara of the best Alto Adige Pinot Grigio she had tasted, but with more personality and a sense that something specific had gone into making it.

"This is the one for people who think they don't like Chenin Blanc," Nandi said.

"Because they've been drinking the wrong version," said Clara.

"Exactly."

Clara bought a case of each before they left Stellenbosch, which put her significantly over her original luggage budget but significantly ahead on her understanding of South African white wine.

What the Argument Was Really About

By the last day of the Cape trip, the argument between Clara and Nandi had evolved into something more interesting than either of them had expected. It was no longer about which country made better wine. That question, it turned out, was too simple to be worth answering.

What they had actually been exploring -- across two countries, two dozen estates, and more notebook pages than Clara wanted to count -- was the question of what makes a wine worth seeking out. The answer, arrived at over a final bottle of Pierre Jourdan Blanc de Blancs on a Franschhoek terrace as the sun went down behind the mountains, was not a country or a grape or a method. It was a combination of place, patience, and the willingness to pay attention.

Italy had given Clara a framework for understanding wine. South Africa had shown her how much the framework was still capable of holding.

On the flight home, she opened her phone and went to Cape Ardor's website -- the US specialist in fine wine from South Africa, Australia, New Zealand, and Italy that Nandi had mentioned on the first day of the trip. She spent an hour working through both collections. The Vin de Constance. The Cap Classique range. The Stellenbosch red blends that had rearranged her thinking about what New World red wine could do. The Barolo she had been meaning to reorder for three months.

She added everything to a single cart. She checked out, closed her phone, and looked out the window for a while.

Italy hadn't lost. South Africa hadn't won. She had simply become a more interesting person to drink wine with.

The Wines From Clara's Two Journeys

The Italian wines that started it all:

• Chianti and Sangiovese -- Tuscany's great red grape, built for food and for time
• Agricola Brandini Barolo R56 2017 -- 92 points Wine Spectator, single-vineyard Nebbiolo from La Morra, only six bottles remaining
• Barolo and Nebbiolo -- Piedmont's most demanding and rewarding red
• Gavi and Piedmont whites -- precise, mineral, built for seafood and long lunches

The South African wines that changed her mind:

• Rust en Vrede Estate Red Blend 2021 -- 94 points James Suckling, a single-hillside blend from an estate farming the same site since 1694
• Thelema Cabernet Sauvignon 2021 -- 95 points Decanter, high-altitude Helshoogte Pass Cabernet with 10 to 15 years of cellaring ahead of it
• Klein Constantia Vin de Constance 2022 -- 97 points Greg Sherwood, three centuries of history, 18 harvest passes per season
• Groot Constantia Grand Constance 2022 -- 93 points Tim Atkin, the other side of the Constantia conversation
• Pierre Jourdan Blanc de Blancs -- five years on the lees, Franschhoek's most considered sparkling wine
• De Morgenzon Reserve Chenin Blanc 2023 -- 91 points Decanter, old-vine Stellenbosch from 1972 plantings
• Raats Original Chenin Blanc 2023 -- unoaked, granite and sandstone Stellenbosch, the one for people who think they don't like Chenin Blanc

Explore the full Italian collection at Cape Ardor and browse the South African wines that Clara couldn't stop thinking about.