
£26.00
£34.67 per litre · incl. 20% VAT
In Stock
Here is a wine for anyone who loves the savoury, mineral side of the Cape. Made by Stellenbosch's David Finlayson from old bushvines in the Bottelary Hills, this is minimal-intervention winemaking at its most honest: saline, umami-rich and quietly profound. A characterful bottle that rewards the curious, delivered to your door across the UK.
Not for sale to persons under 18. Adult signature required on delivery.
We added this to the collection because it does something most wines at this price simply cannot: it tastes of a specific place, and of the patience it takes to make wine properly. The salty, mineral pull and old-vine concentration genuinely surprised us. It earned 95 points from Winemag's Christian Eedes, and we understand why. This is for the drinker who has moved past easy fruit and wants texture, tension and a story in the glass. We hold very little of it, so if a savoury, characterful Stellenbosch bottling appeals, do not wait too long.
This is Chenin Blanc with a quiet kind of intensity. The nose is more about stone and sea air than overt fruit, leading into a palate where saline freshness and a savoury, umami depth do the talking. Decades-old bushvines give it real concentration, while the months spent on the lees lend a subtle creaminess that broadens the texture without softening the focus. It finishes long, dry and mineral, the kind of wine that gets more interesting with every sip rather than shouting on the first.
A striking stony, sea-spray character runs the length of the palate, the signature of old vines digging deep into granitic soils.
An unusual brothy, almost salty savouriness gives this wine its serious, food-friendly backbone and sets it apart from everyday Chenin.
Twelve months on the lees adds a soft, creamy weight that broadens the mid-palate while keeping everything taut and dry.
Older French oak and concrete eggs lend gentle structure rather than flavour, letting the site and variety stay centre stage.
Some wines shout. This one whispers, and you lean in closer. The Camino Africana project (the name means "the African way") is David Finlayson's love letter to old vines and gentle hands, and it shows in every glass. There is a salty, umami depth here, a real sense of stone and sea air, the kind of savoury complexity you only get when vines have spent decades fighting for a living in granitic Stellenbosch soil.
The fruit comes from low-yielding bushvines planted between the 1960s and 1980s, hand-picked in the Bottelary Hills where decomposed granite and sandy loam give the wine its mineral backbone. In the cellar, the approach is deliberately hands-off: whole bunches pressed, the bulk fermented with wild yeast in seasoned French oak, the rest in concrete egg, then a patient twelve months resting on the lees to build texture and quiet power.
Finlayson farms at Edgebaston in the foothills of the Simonsberg, with more than twenty-five years behind him and stints at Chateau Margaux and Peter Lehmann along the way. That pedigree is felt rather than flaunted.
This is one to open slowly, with roast chicken and lemon, grilled fish, or a board of mature hard cheeses. A genuinely thoughtful gift for the wine lover who thinks they have tasted everything. UK-wide delivery, straight to the table.
The saline, savoury edge here loves anything from the sea. Try it with seared scallops, grilled Dover sole with brown butter, or a bowl of smoked haddock chowder. It also has the texture to handle a roast chicken with lemon and thyme, or a wedge of mature Cheddar at the end of a meal. Serve it with food and the umami depth really comes alive.
Lightly chilled, not ice cold. Pull it from the fridge around 15 to 20 minutes before pouring.
No decant needed, but a splash into the glass and ten minutes' patience helps the saline, savoury layers unfurl. Serving too cold mutes the texture, so let it warm gently.
A larger-bowled white wine glass gives the lees-built texture and mineral depth room to express themselves.
Store on its side somewhere cool, dark and stable. This has the structure to develop well over five to eight years.
Stellenbosch earns its reputation through balance. Warm, sun-filled days ripen the fruit fully, while cooling air drawn off the Atlantic slows things down just enough to hold onto acidity and freshness. Here the approach is hands-off by design: old bushvines, low yields and minimal intervention, letting decades-deep roots do the talking. The result is a wine with real tension, that saline, mineral grip and savoury depth that only comes when vines have spent years fighting for a foothold in the soil.
Old-vine Chenin built on lees ageing like this rewards patience. It drinks beautifully now, but give it five to eight years and the saline tension softens into honeyed, waxy complexity while that mineral core holds firm. One for the cellar as much as the table.
The vineyards are planted on sandy, loamy topsoils running down to granitic gravel and decomposed granite shale subsoils, the kind of lean, well-drained ground that forces vines deep. These are low-density bushvines established between the 1960s and 1980s in the Bottelary Hills, old enough and stressed enough to give the wine its distinctive minerality and salty, umami undertow.
This is winemaking by restraint rather than addition. Whole bunches are pressed gently, then the juice is left to find its own way: around ninety per cent ferments with wild, natural yeasts in seasoned French oak, the rest in concrete eggs. Older barrels mean no heavy vanilla mask, just texture and slow breathing. A touch of sulphur after primary fermentation holds back malolactic conversion, preserving brightness, before twelve months resting on the lees builds that creamy, layered weight and lingering savoury finish.
David Finlayson
David Finlayson grew up in Stellenbosch wine country, third generation, born into it, vines in the family for as long as anyone can remember. He spent decades sharpening his craft in places that matter: a stint at Chateau Margaux in Bordeaux, time with Peter Lehmann in the Barossa, plus years back home making serious wine. In 2004 he and his family bought a rundown farm called Edgebaston in the foothills of the Simonsberg and set about replanting it, parcel by parcel, into the thirty-hectare estate it is today. Camino Africana, "the African way", is his personal statement piece: old vines, minimal intervention, no shortcuts.
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