It started, as most shame spirals do, with me being very sure of myself.
Not publicly, thankfully. Just internally. The kind of quiet certainty you develop early in wine, when you decide which cultivars are "for you" and which ones can stay politely on the other side of the tasting table.
I'd become rather fond of declining Sauvignon Blanc. It felt like progress.
Turns out, I was one word away from changing my mind.
Cederberg Sauvignon Gris arrived.
Not Sauvignon Blanc. Gris. A technicality I clung to with both hands while quietly falling head over heels.
At first, I blamed the setting.
Which felt fair.
There we were in the Cederberg tasting room, harvest still happening around us, David smiling that Cederberg-sized smile, and the pours generous enough to make even the most disciplined person feel open-minded.
Of course it was good there.
Everything tastes better there.
So I waited to see if I'd fallen for the setting instead of the wine.
Back home, with no mountain, no David, and no generous pour to hide behind, I opened it again.
It wasn't the setting. The wine was just that good.
I told myself it wasn't really Sauvignon Blanc.
The truth is, Sauvignon Gris didn't ask me to abandon my opinion.
It simply asked me to widen it.
But the Cederberg trip did not stop at one humbling.
The evenings had their own rhythm. One night white. One night red. One night quietly convincing myself I'd developed some restraint. The next night wondering how much wine one person could reasonably take home without becoming a logistical problem.
Then came Teen die Hoog Shiraz.
Named by the farm workers after what they considered the toughest pick of the season.
I spent just enough time in the vineyards to know I wasn't qualified to disagree.
A completely different wine. Exactly the same problem.
Also on allocation. Also flipping delicious. Also the kind of wine that arrives at the table without needing to explain itself.
Where the Sauvignon Gris surprised me, Teen die Hoog simply made its point.
And somewhere between the two, the shame spiral shifted.
It was no longer about getting Sauvignon Blanc wrong.
It was realising I'd mistaken certainty for progress.
Apparently my palate had other plans.
That, I suppose, is the real trouble with Cederberg.
You go in thinking you're there for one wine, one story, one neatly contained moment.
Then the next glass gets poured.
And the question becomes:
Can I take them all home?
For those who need a little more convincing, here's what you can expect from both:
Cederberg Sandpoort Sauvignon Gris 2025
A rare, textured white with tangerine-orange, nuttiness and a silky, waxy palate. South Africa’s first certified Sauvignon Gris, planted after David Nieuwoudt discovered the variety in Chile. Tiny production, serious length, and a wine that feels richer than the Sauvignon name might suggest.
Cederberg Teen die Hoog Shiraz 2023
A high-altitude Shiraz from ancient red slate soils, previously produced for the Cape Winemakers Guild Auction. Refined rather than heavy, with elegance, structure and depth. Just three barrels are bottled each vintage, from a vineyard named by the farm workers after the toughest pick of the season.