The Paardeberg = The Partyberg.

Friday last week saw me at the Oesaf Party (harvest after-party) at the Badenhorst Family Wines farm in the Swartland. It was also the fourth bender night on the trot. Consecutive benders are something I’ve tried to avoid as part of my Turning 30 Program For Being Healthy & Mildly Responsible, which so far has been as successful as The Cape Party’s hilarious attempt to annex the Cape from South Africa. Whatever the previous weeknights delivered, Friday was always going to be massive.

The people: a group of about 50 farm owners, winemakers, assistant winemakers, local cellar hands and cute foreign cellar hands from nearby farms together with the odd journo and a few other randoms (the last group includes me). A fun collection of people with plenty of characters. Some special shorts too, not least of all Jasper from Badenhorst wines (pictured below).

The venue: a circular clearing with generator-powered fairy lights and sound system up in the bluegum forrest on a hill at Adi Badenhorst’s farm in the Paardeberg Partyberg. The clearing was accessed via a dirt road that would destroy your average sedan, something I think was a natural door-policy of sorts. No bakkie, no entry.
The vibe: a huge fire and supersize braai, hay bales for seats (nobody sat), some vibey music and everyone just mingling, braaiing and drinking with abandon.
The wines: As you can imagine there was plenty of wine. Not just ordinary wine, fucking amazing wine. At one point I grabbed a random bottle from the centre table and poured a taste. It was one of Eben Sadie’s Old Vine Series wines (the one Kentridge sketched up a few labels for) just chilling amongst the other bottles. There was no shortage of great wine, no.

Things were very tame on arrival: cordial greetings, welcome introductions, talk about the year’s harvest and other general civilized behaviour. Wines were opened and emptied in rapid succession and the braaimasters exercised their tong skills. Over time, the music got louder as did the guests’ laughter. I heard some great stories, including one from the previous harvest party of a woman going to the aid of another throwing up in the darkness amongst the bushes. Amusingly she found the other woman a) wasn’t alone, b) was on her knees and c) was actually preoccupied with something that definitely wasn’t throwing up.

The generator on Friday decided to fail every so often, creating silence and darkness. Initially, this resulted in continued discussion, huddling towards the light of the fire and appreciation of the starry sky. By the end it resulted in wolf howls and other mad behaviour. Things got very blurry, but I distinctly remember eating three of the best braaibroodjies I’ve had in my life, hiding Champagne in the ice bath, tackling a dog, downing wines that deserved better appreciation and meeting some great people.

I also vaguely remember something about throwing hay bales into the bushes and tossing a bit of wine around. Some of it onto others. I definitely don’t remember almost knocking myself out on the door of a bakkie, but the (still painful) bump on the back of my head and scratch on my neck must surely mean the story is true. Just the fact that I tackled a dog while I was relatively sober makes me nervous of what I don’t remember. Pics like the below don’t help either, where I seem to be hugging Kingsley Holgate.

What a great night through. While I do enjoy the luxury of Franschhoek, aka the Hollywood of the local industry, and the diversity of Stellenvegas, getting out to the Swartland and being privilege to a gathering like this is further reminder of how much I really love the area and its open and characterful residents.

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Oh, special thanks to Adi, Cornelia & Jasper for a brilliant party, Craig (winemaker at Lammershoek) for being my chaperone and the Kretzel’s of Lammershoek for their hospitality, especially Anna, who made those heavenly braaibroodjies.