Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Sauvignon Blanc, Chardonnay—these names are etched into the DNA of wine. The noble cultivars. The ones consumers ask for by name, and the ones that dominate most supermarket shelves and wine lists. But behind the scenes, in the hands of South Africa’s small-scale winemakers, something a little less polished and far more intriguing is taking root.
In my experience, I’ve seen a steady rebellion—subtle, but growing. It’s happening in sheds, in farm backrooms, in barrels tucked away from the spotlight. A movement toward the lesser known. Grapes like Roussanne, Grenache Gris, Verdelho or even a Chenel are getting solo stage time in a world that’s traditionally given lead roles only to the well-established few.
The reality is the market is oversaturated with the big commercial cultivars. Trying to compete head-to-head with world-renowned Cabernets or Chardonnays is often business suicide. Dominant wineries have decades (sometimes centuries) of brand equity, deep distribution networks, and loyal customer bases. As a small producer, entering that ring is like bringing a stick to a sword fight.
But that’s where the weird and wonderful come in. You don’t need to out-Cabernet a Bordeaux if you’re pouring a textured, golden Roussanne with a story. Or perhaps even a bold, dry Carignan—yes, someone is making it, and no, it’s probably not winning awards, but it exists, and that’s the point. Small producers can afford to be curious. We can chase flavour, texture, chaos—and the joy of surprise.
Personally, I like to think of these alternative varietals as jazz. Just because the notes are unexpected doesn’t mean it’s not music. Sometimes, the most beautiful blends are made up of the grapes that were overlooked for decades. There’s rhythm in risk, harmony in boldness. Maybe that’s just the rebel in me talking but these weird and wonderful wines don’t just fill glasses—they start conversations.
What’s also beautiful about working with these lesser-known cultivars is the ability to hand-sell the story. When you’re making wine on a small scale, you’re often talking directly to the person drinking it. You get to say something like, “This is Therona,” and watch someone’s eyebrows lift in curiosity. That moment—that connection—is gold.
Of course, the classic cultivars still – and always will – have a place. There’s nothing wrong with a great Sauvignon Blanc. In a world where the established few control the narrative of what you see and buy, there’s something magical about a wine that dares to be different. Something honest. Something human.
So next time you’re browsing a wine list or peering into a tasting room fridge, go rogue. Ask for the bottle you can’t pronounce. It might just surprise you—and you’ll be supporting a small producer who chose heart over hype.
Articles