Discovering the Wonders of White, Red, and Rose at the Theescombe Estate Wine Farm
Afternoon has turned to evening over the vineyards of Theescombe.
If, one day, a mad scientist would approach me claiming to have discovered a drug that can banish all despair in the world, I would grimly tell him that his tonic is already being used even long before ancient civilisations came to thrive to modernity-- and it's affectionately called 'vin', the ever-sophisticated 'wine'. Some parts of the Bible even feature this specific fermented solution, while the ancient texts of Greek mythos have a god named "Dionysus" claiming dominion over vineyards and, subsequently, the fruit and the wines cultivated from them.
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For me, the Dionysus of the current time is a disembodied "spirit" that appears to weary and pained humans, omnipresent in the fragrant smell of a newly-opened bottle of wine, or behind a polished oak home bar counter, or in office buildings and streets and restaurants and wine cellars, coaxing with non-malevolent persuasiveness haggard souls that he had handpicked to introduce to the pleasures of red, rose, and white.
I'm only an occasional drinker with a high tolerance for alcohol, so I'd like to think of myself as someone who'd never catch Dionysus' attention. It was due to this arrogance of mine towards the Greek God of Wine that on a typical sultry 22-degree centigrade afternoon in December in Port Elizabeth, burdened with the stress of almost losing my father, Dionysus appeared to me in the form of a Tripadvisor page featuring the Theescombe Estate Wine Farm. I didn't even think it through-- I gave the farm a call and thanked the heavens under my breath when they said they could accommodate us for a tour. My mom and I immediately hired an Uber to where we were promised alcohol and relief.
Tip: It's always good to call beforehand to make a reservation because the farm might be closed to the public on the day of your planned visit. As the website advertises and as the owner herself told us, they cater to exclusive events such as weddings and office parties.
No other personality is more appropriate to greet visitors to Theescombe Estate Wine Farm.
Note: An Uber ride from Netacres Shopping Mall to the Theescombe Estate Wine Farms cost us around ZAR 16.00.
Upon our arrival, we were warmly greeted by the owners Sandra and her son, with Sandra apologizing because her husband couldn't meet us as he was busy with the seedlings. They proceeded to show us the restaurant/ dining hall where we would have our subsequent tasting session after a brief talk and a tour of the vineyards.
Imagine having to dine with this view!
Lazy afternoons are best spent in rustic places like this!
The dining hall.
The wine farm has also played host to numerous office Christmas parties in the past.
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Charming and cozy!
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While walking to the vineyards, my mom explained what brought two Filipina women such as ourselves to the other side of the globe, and Sandra reacted with empathy upon learning of dad's dire situation. I stood by as two strangers formed an instant connection possible only through the bonds of womanhood.
Grapes...
...grapes...
...and more grapes!
Sandra kicked off our vineyard tour with a little introduction about herself, her family, and the estate. She explained how they started off with purchasing a piece of land that they decided could be used to grow wine grapes (which I found out were different from the table grapes people are used to eating from a fruit basket) and how they met a few bumps along the road; how, after the right research and education, they started to reap harvests that were barely enough to produce a few bottles of wine to being able to supply for a few local merchants and stores. Even the bottles and the corks they first used were proudly resourced. Sandra also explained how they had to abide to the local Customs, thus there is a reason they are called "Estate Wines" instead of a "Wine Estate".
Is this type of grape the namesake for the Pinot wines?
How would the wine from this type of grape taste like? Probably a little fruity, perhaps more fragrant than the others.
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The intense (but also delicate) white wines like the Chardonnay and Sauvignon come from this grape.
It was such a pleasure walking around the vineyard with my mom, Sandra, her two Collies, and her overprotective German Shepherd while enjoying the cool afternoon breeze, listening to an account of how the estate had just had a bountiful harvest that had just begun fermenting and how they were able to graft two breeds of grape to produce a new breed for their wines. Watching the German Shepherd chase a duck into the nearby muddy pond and emerging all covered in the grime made all worries about my dad wither away.
Who's a good boy?
After the vineyard tour concluded, we were escorted back to the dining hall where we were shown the different aluminum vats containing all sorts of wines waiting for the right time to be perfectly fermented before they're whisked into bottles for the pleasure of the thirsty. Sandra also took the liberty of showing and discussing some of the equipment that they use to aid in fermenting and further enhancing the wine. One among the interesting items she showed us was a couple of sweet-smelling rectangular blocks of wood strung-up together which is actually put into the wine to enhance its fragrance. Who knew wine-making could be so fascinating?
The quaint and rustic dining hall.
The aluminum vats stored inside the dining hall store gallons upon gallons of fermenting wine.
A grape crusher and destemmer. Hanging on the wall is a collection of photos showing the different equipment involved in wine-making.
A wine press and a corker. On the walls hang a brief history of Theescombe Estate Wine in pictures.
Then came the highlight of our vineyard tour-- the wine-tasting session.
On a table in the dining hall, eight bottles of various types of wines stood waiting for us to inebriate ourselves. Before we were able to, however, Sandra made sure we knew how to fully enjoy our drinks ala-sommelier by giving us pointers. I've learned from our pre-drink talk that when wine is poured into the glass, you should give it a good swirl while assessing for the richness of its aroma. Once you're satisfied with that, the key to fusing the wine's aroma with its taste is to sip a little bit of it, aerate it in your mouth, swish it all around with your tongue before aerating again and swallowing. My mom and I would've just chugged 'em all up like barbarians if we weren't educated at the least.
Eight samples of wine were poured out before us-- each with its own specific strength, smells, color, and taste. The white ones were distinctly dry and fruity, while the red ones were mostly flavourful and smoky. On the piece of paper where the corresponding glass of wine stood was a brief description of the wine along with the alcoholic volume and the price per bottle. (Hint: we took home a bottle of wine number six, a woody red with hints of chocolate and plums that went well with cheeses.)
Doing as we were told, we began to find out that wine really did taste better the longer it stayed in your mouth. The prospect of experimenting on which wine went well with which cheese and if biltong tasted anything like the extremely-processed rashers that I was more used to having in London (spoiler: yep, biltong tastes way better) was as exciting as any given wine-tasting activity. So much love and effort goes into each bottle that we made sure to appreciate each and every sip that we could afford to have.
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Crackers, cheeses, olives, and strips of chewy and savoury biltong.
At the conclusion of the tour, we didn't miss the opportunity to purchase a bottle of wine and a bottle of dry craft beer (yes, they make their own beers, too) to sip with our stock of peanuts and store-bought biltong.
The wine shop.
At long last, the sun began to set; its orange glow became a vivid backdrop to the picturesque vineyard as day started to transition into night. As my mom and Sandra talked by the statuette of Dionysus, I took one last casual stroll around the vineyard. It wouldn't be long before the Uber that I ordered would come to pick us up and drop us off at the hospital just in time for the ICU's evening visiting hours.
The vineyard bathed in the glow of the sunset.
A backyard with a (non-functional) fountain and a (fully-functional) swimming pool in the distance.
Grape vines all lined up.
When we came back to see my dad, we cheerfully relayed to him everything about the tour that we did. Unsurprisingly, he gave no indication that he heard us. Such is the fallible effect of the tonic that the Greek gods deemed to be "the one that banishes despair"-- it simply doesn't. It couldn't. It never can. It will never do. It's a band-aid solution to a big wound that requires something to heal it rather than cover it.
I looked at my mom-- the fighter, the optimistic one, the one who was more "under the influence" between the two of us but a whole lot more sane and brimming with wisdom. She was the same person who told me and everyone else not to despair over my dad because she believes in the principle that if you've prayed to God for something, your faith should be strong enough to consider your prayer already granted. For this woman of great faith, no amount of wine can ever compare to the power of a God that had, in our entire lifetime, steadily cast off despair from our hearts.
I was brimming with newfound strength and determination when I saw her grin, lightly touch my dad's arm, and declare, "I can't wait to try out my new wine! I bet it tastes good with my biltong!"
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