A mere 20 minutes from Cape Town’s city centre, Beau Constantia is a steep, windswept farm that summits the Vlakkenberg, the youngest brand in the oldest wine region in the southern hemisphere. In a shy kloof, steep north-east facing slopes rise to a point where both the Indian and Atlantic oceans become visible. It’s hard to believe this future-centric estate used to be a goat farm. That chapter came to a close during the all-consuming fires of 2000, which left nothing but a thick stand of alien vegetation. In 2002, the Du Preez family purchased the steep slice of foreign forest with the intention of restoring the site to its original pristine state.
Costly alien-clearing, the establishment of a firebreak around the border and extensive soil studies led naturally to the establishment of vineyards. The first vines were planted in 2003 with the help of dedicated farm manager Japie Bronn. Today, with only 12 hectares of vines clinging tenaciously to one of the most extreme viticultural slopes in the Western Cape, production is limited to what this near-vertiginous mountainside can deliver. Limitless, however, is the commitment to quality.
Megan van der Merwe leads the team as general manager, winemaker and viticulturist. The operation is small, hands-on and allergic to pretence: head in the clouds and boots on the ground. The glass-encased tasting room stays open to the elements, the amphitheatre hosts films, music and art, and a floating deck with a food truck keeps things generous and fun. They make serious wines without taking themselves too seriously. ‘We loosened the collar on what ‘premium’ looks like and made space for curiosity and contradiction,’ Megan explains.
For Megan, winemaking is about conversations: from ground to glass. ‘Vines have so much to say if you’re willing to listen. People too. Wine comes to life at that intersection.’ To her, every bottle is a conduit between the drinker and the land. Her job is to make small, honest decisions in the pursuit of balance, an equilibrium between all elements. ‘It’s my philosophy for the vineyards, and to an extent, my life as a whole.’
Walk the rows with her, and you might find her checking shoots and second-guessing herself, then not, then yes again. Clipping a shoot, tasting a berry that’s not ready yet, running through scenarios faster than she can write them down. You’ll definitely feel the wind try to steal your hat. You might forget your phone for a minute. That’s success to her: feeling present.
Beau Constantia doesn’t separate the vineyard from the people, or the land from the story. Flanked on three sides by the cold Atlantic, the wine tastes like it. Every decision is intentional: minimal intervention, obsessive detail, honest mistakes that teach something new.
