Bellevue- The Name You Should Know When You Talk About Pinotage

I thought I knew Pinotage.

Not in the encyclopedic, swirl-sniff-score way, but in the proudly South African, “I’ve brought a bottle to almost every braai since I came to the Winelands” sort of way. It was a varietal I’d always championed: a little rough, a little misunderstood, but undeniably ours. To me, Pinotage was Lanzerac, first to bottle it. It was Beyerskloof, loud, generous, deeply red. That was the story. Simple. Neatly packaged.

But with 2025 marking a major celebration of Pinotage (a full century since Professor Abraham Perold first crossed Pinot Noir and Cinsault) I figured it was time to revisit the roots of this uniquely South African varietal. And what I discovered turned my familiar Pinotage narrative completely on its head.

A Side Conversation That Changed Everything

At an Old Vine event held in the Heldeberg, surrounded by the rustle of linen and murmurs about Swartland minerality, I struck up a chat with Luan Aucamp, Bellevue’s sales manager. Easy-going, sharp, and clearly someone who knew his vineyards.

We were there to honour the old. To swirl and sip wines made from vines that had stood through generations. The Old Vine Project catalogue listed 346 certified wines at last count yet only 21 of them were Pinotage, from just 13 estates/producers. That stat struck me like a cork to the temple. How could South Africa’s signature varietal, with roots stretching back to the 1950s, be so underrepresented in the very movement meant to celebrate heritage?

We were talking Chenin, but the conversation veered.

“You know Bellevue planted one of the first commercial Pinotage vineyards back in 1953?” Luan said, offhand, as if it was common knowledge.

“Bellevue?” I blinked. “The one near Bottelary?” He nodded. “Still producing. Same vines.”

It wasn’t a sales pitch. It was a nudge. A piece of history served neat and without garnish. I nodded politely, but inside, I was scrambling. How had I never heard this?

History in the Vines

That evening, I fell down a very rewarding rabbit hole.

Turns out, P.K. Morkel of Bellevue didn’t just plant Pinotage early. He planted it when no one else saw the point. Long before Pinotage became fashionable or financially sound, Morkel bet the farm literally on this new crossbreed. That same vineyard, tucked into the Bottelary Hills, still bears fruit today.

In fact, that very vineyard gave rise to the Bellevue 1953 Pinotage 2018; a wine that feels less like a vintage and more like a time capsule in a bottle. Picked from a mere 1.85 hectares of gnarled bush vines rooted in ancient Cartreff soils, it carries a graceful power. Maraschino cherry and plum lead the aromatics, underpinned by firm acidity and silky tannins that echo the vineyard’s endurance. Aged 18 months in French oak, it doesn’t just speak of place. It tells a story of faith rewarded—of vines planted in hope, and harvested in heritage. Deservedly corseted in a Platters 5 Star Sticker.

And that legacy was already beginning to bloom back in 1959. A Pinotage made from Bellevue’s grapes, vinified by Stellenbosch Farmers Winery, won the General Smuts Trophy for best young wine in South Africa. That wasn’t just a win. It was a coming of age for Pinotage.

Lanzerac got the glory for bottling it first. Beyerskloof would later carry the flag with passion and panache. But Bellevue? Arguably, it made it all possible.

A Brandless Pioneer

There’s something poetic about Bellevue’s anonymity. In a world of shouty labels and wine influencers, it’s content to let the vineyard speak. No gimmicks. No gold-plated storytelling. Just a deep respect for land, vine, and legacy.

Their 1953 Block Pinotage is the opposite of the cloying, smoke-laden styles that gave the grape a bad name in the ’90s. It’s lifted, perfumed, quietly powerful. Their Reserve Collection? A Pinotage that makes you slow down and think, not because it demands attention, but because it earns it.

And there’s something about standing in that vineyard – those gnarled bush vines, silent and stoic – that rewires your appreciation. This is where Pinotage became Pinotage.

The Gospel According to a Salesman

Here’s the twist: it wasn’t a winemaker or academic who opened this world to me. It was a sales manager. Luan Aucamp, casually sharing a piece of living history over a shared bottle and a bit of banter. That, to me, is the beauty of wine culture. Sometimes the deepest truths come from the least expected places.

That one conversation reframed years of assumptions. Luan didn’t need to be dramatic. He simply told the truth and let the vines do the rest.

It made me wonder how often wine media, myself included, favours volume over veracity. We follow the bold, the branded, the visible. We quote the names that come preloaded with prestige. But sometimes, the real heart of a varietal beats away from the spotlight, in the patient rows of vineyards like Bellevue where no one is clamouring for attention, because the vines have already earned it.

Whose Story Is It, Anyway?

The story of Pinotage, like the varietal itself, is complex. Lanzerac and Beyerskloof are undeniable pillars. Their contributions are real, their impact vast. But Bellevue is the rootstock. It deserves more than a footnote.

We’re celebrating 100 years of Pinotage in 2025. It’s a chance to uncork the full story. To shine light on those who didn’t just make great wine, but made the grape a reality. Not every pioneer had the loudest voice. Some just had the deepest roots.

Pouring with Purpose

So now, when I open a bottle of Pinotage, I think back to that vineyard on Bottelary’s granite slopes. I think of Luan’s quiet confidence. Of vines that have stood through decades of droughts, doubts, and dismissals.

In 2025, as South Africa raises a glass to 100 years of its homegrown grape, I’ll be pouring Bellevue. Not out of sentimentality, but out of sheer respect.

Not because it’s popular. Because it’s true.