TWO MINUTES WITH | Luke O’Cuinneagain, Vergelegen

Having grown up in the Constantia Valley, O’Cuinneagain changed his career path from veterinary studies to oenology, going on to gain experience at such renowned estates as Rustenberg, Château Angelus and Screaming Eagle. He made his name as winemaker at the French-inspired Glenelly Estate in Stellenbosch, which he joined in 2008, before moving to Vergelegen as winemaker, taking over from André Van Rensburg, in 2022

What's your 'last supper' wine? 
If it’s a proper supper, it would have to be three wines, one for each course, right? So Krug Clos du Mesnil 1996, Cheval Blanc 1947 and GS Cabernet 1966. 

The first two are self-explanatory, but the GS Cabernet is something of a unicorn wine. It was an experiment by George Spies, then winemaker at Monis. I have tried it, but very few bottles still exist. It was truly exceptional, and it shows how well South African wines can age if they're made correctly and given time. Unfortunately, they just didn't have the exposure, in those days, for such a style to be widely known, and today, South African wines are not afforded the same length of time as fine Bordeaux or Burgundy. People tend to expect much more immediacy from us, which is a little bit frustrating. Young wines are fantastic and they can be quite punchy. But good older wines have this understated power and confidence, and an unbelievable nuance that you don't get in young wines. These days, as winemakers, we're expected to make wines with accessibility early on, but also ageability. That ‘66 GS is a model, stylistically, to aim for.

Where's your dream vineyard? 
It would be in St Emillion, given the combination of history, beauty and the wines produced here. The soils are phenomenal, and actually have a great versatility to them. Yes, they have to plant the classic Bordeaux varieties, but the amount of calcareous soil they have means, in theory, they could also be looking at things like Chardonnay, on the correct sites. I know it would have to be declassified, but there's a lot of experimentation that could go on there. And I absolutely love the thought that you are making wine in an area that's been producing wine since the Roman times, right? I'm a history buff as well, so that's just astounding to me.

Who's your wine hero? 
There are four people who I particularly admire and have learnt from: Adi Badenhorst, Hubert de Boüard, Paul Draper and May-Eliane de Lencquesaing. I started my winemaking career with Adi, and he was the one that broke my perceptions of what happens in wine. Studying at university, they were very dogmatic about what you do with inoculated fermentations and things like that. It was very regimented, whereas when I worked with Adi, he was like, ‘No, no, you can throw the textbooks away now.’ He taught me it's all about experimenting and trusting your gut, working to get wines with character and personality, rather than something that's very staid. 

Hubert, too, was brave if you consider the winemaking techniques he used. When he joined Château Angelus, they had never used barrels before; they'd always only used foudres. So his was a big change from tradition. He was a visionary, and he had to stand fast, because his family were saying, ‘What are you doing? You’re fundamentally changing what we are about.’ He also taught me a lot about the economics of wine. I was a bit idealistic back then. He was realistic. 

Paul Draper produces, or produced, the wine that I love to hate – Ridge Montebello. I always enjoy it, and I always think I shouldn't, because it's made on a specific site, but with ultra-small, American oak barrels. I'm not particularly fond of American oak. I find it too sweet. I've tried experimenting with it on different sites, and I can never get anything close to that sort of interpretation of it. His wine always displays so much personality. I've had it a number of times, including in blind tastings, and I always think this will be the time I'm not going to like it. But it never is. 

May-Eliane de Lencquesaing, who I worked for at Glenelly, is an incredibly wise person. She's got incredible knowledge, not just of the industry, but of life. For a long time, Bordeaux wasn't the powerhouse that it is today, and she was one of the people who was responsible for opening up less traditional markets, in Japan and the wider Asian market. She was a real trailblazer, and listening to her talk about her philosophy was amazing to me. 

What’s the next big thing in wine?  
Looking at how and which grape varieties adapt or thrive in new areas, given the impact of climate change. We don't seem to be getting four seasons any more in the Western Cape. We tend to go straight from summer into winter and vice versa. 

I'm working on an experimental vineyard at the moment, planting a number of different varietals to see how they perform. In years to come, Chardonnay might become more marginal, so we’re looking at things like Alberiño. But if you put your marketing hat on, it's a much more difficult sell. The kings, for whites, are still Sauvignon Blanc and Chardonnay. It’s a classic chicken-and-egg situation – it's going to be a hard slog to try and get a South African Albariño to market.

May-Eliane de Lancquesaing, founder of Glenelly, who will celebrate her 100th birthday next year

What's your favourite wine memory? 
I’d just started working for Glenelly, so I went to see May-Eliane de Lencquesaing in Bordeaux [where she previously owned and ran Château Pichon Lalande]. She told me she had a wine that she thought I should try, as it could serve as something to strive to achieve one day. I thought if I was really lucky, it might be a legendary vintage of Pichon – an ‘82, a ‘61, maybe even a 1945. Then she produced this 1870 Lafite Rothchild. It was phenomenal. The wine was well over 100 years of age, but still had so much life and character about it. It was an amazing moment. But then I started to feel a bit of pressure…

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