Tierhoek Chenin Blanc

Tierhoek
Chenin Blanc
2020
Piekenierskloof, Citrusdal Mountain  

Let’s turn back the clock a few years to 2020. The depths of Covid. I’d only just stopped taking walks around the block with a can of beans in a shopping bag to justify my outside excursions, alcohol bans had revealed new bulk buying and hoarding depths to my personality, and I’d resigned myself as a bread baking failure (the challah of early lockdown had been repurposed as the household’s weapon of choice against intruders). But for now, I was on holiday! Making up for our 6-week separation earlier that year (two highways and one military check point between us didn’t make for easy lockdown visits) my boyfriend and I were on our way to the Cederberg. And because I’m me and he’s him, we were taking a two-hour detour to visit a wine farm I’d wanted to try — Tierhoek. Needless to say, because I’m me, he ended up repacking the entire car in their parking lot to fit the five cases I’d purchased (see, I told you about my fear-spawned bulk buying…). 

The Tierhoek Chenin Blanc has become one of my go-to Chenins. It has an apple-cheeked wholesomeness to it, like a Dutch postcard milkmaid who bakes delicious fresh bread (not destined for the armoury) and has the strength to lift a cow with her pinkie. While previous vintages have tasted more like honied Rooibos iced tea from the tea plantings on the farm (a fact I’m sticking to, despite hours spent by the patient soil scientists at VinPro explaining to me this is, in fact, not how terroir works), the 2020 is leaner — this a milkmaid who’s embraced the bicep curl. With a nose of Swiss müsli and oatmeal alongside its giveaway Rooibos, there’s a savoury saltiness at its core (a product of the bicep curl, I’m sure). This is a wine that believes in long walks in the fresh air, the panacea of baked goods, and bench pressing the odd cow or two before dawn.

Pair with: Weekends away where days are filled with rusks and tin mugs of Rooibos tea. Substitute Rooibos tea as required.