A peek into winemaker Lawrie Moore’s diary, and heart, during his first harvest on Kleinood Farm, along with film photographs from the disposable camera which he carried in his pocket.
30
January
2026
Part I: The Great Viticultural Lie
The first rule of harvest: a farmer’s timeline is merely a polite suggestion until the grapes decide otherwise. “Second week of February,” they said. “Relax,” they said. Apparently, the Grenache Blanc in Piekenierskloof didn’t get the memo.
We’ve spent the last 48 hours in a state of controlled atmospheric re-entry, restructuring every job to ensure the cellar is “grape ready.” Jan, our driver, shifted his entire programme to make the trek north at dawn today. He’s just arrived with a truck bristling with bushvine fruit, and the annual “First Day Chaos” has commenced.
It’s a challenge that tests the newcomers and the old hands alike — remembering what worked in ’25 while trying to improve for ’26. Thankfully, Julio, the old-timer at Kleinood, has taken charge and sorted everyone out. He has that classic “keep calm and carry on” energy that stops the panic from setting in.
30
January
2026
Part II: The Verjus Vigil
If the Grenache was a sprint, the Syrah Verjus harvest is a psychological thriller. We’re working with young Syrah at 12 degrees Balling with a TA of 18—a tricky situation, to say the least. Usually, I’m the yeast’s biggest fan; today, they are the enemy. They are sitting on every surface, microscopic and patient, waiting for us to make one mistake so they can start the job they were born for: fermenting sugar.
Not on my watch. To win this war, we are maintaining meticulous attention to hygiene. Our “maximum-hands-per-bottle” philosophy is being put to the test; I’ve raked in the garden crew, with Sikelela leading the charge to pick the perfect grapes.
We’ve just finished plunging the fruit into water at 80°C for one minute to inhibit the spoilers—a “hot tub from hell” for the microbes—followed by a manual press and an immediate chill in the tank.
3
February
2026
Blisters & Bottling
After a sensitive period of analysis, we’ve started bottling the Verjus. In a moment of misguided fiscal responsibility, I thought I’d be “nice” and save Kleinood some money by suggesting a hand-crimping tool instead of renting a machine.
300 bottles later, with various bottles needing re-crimping, my hands are blistered and my joints are asking me if I’m actually serious. I feel like I’ve been through a survival course, except my only enemy was a piece of stainless steel and my own optimism.
Thankfully, Hilton put up his hand to help me through the process. We finished the last bottle at 21:30. There were tears gathering – I’m not entirely sure if they were happy tears or just pure exhaustion. The final act is pasteurisation: 70°C for 30 minutes. Hopefully, the yeast have finally given up hope of meddling with the 2026 vintage.
5
February
2026
The Slow Cooking Academy
After our successful 2025 vintage, we’ve upped our Viognier tonnage; today marks the start of a 33-tonne marathon. Viognier is a tricky variety that lives to challenge winemakers. We’ve destemmed, crushed, and transported the fruit to a tank to spend the night at extremely low temperatures.
I’m thinking of my father, Rian, today. Being from the Karoo, he learnt from his mother that no good plate of food is ever rushed. He calls it the “Slow Cooking Academy.” Winemaking is the same. Never rush; let the grapes do their job and integrate as nature planned. We’re using a pectolytic enzyme to help break down those stubborn pectins, ensuring a better yield and extracting aromatic precursors at a deliberate pace.
Stock of the Kleinood Tamboerskloof Viognier 2025 is limited.
Contact office@kleinood.com to enquire.
18
February
2026
The Heritage Harvest
The best plans are usually interrupted by a neighbour with a secret. Today, it was a block of Old Vine Chenin Blanc. I went to have a look and it was looking promising; there is a certain gravity to vines that have stood their ground for over 33 years.
It is an absolute scorcher – 38°C in the shade. We’ve assembled a picking team from our local community, and watching them work is a reminder that you cannot buy pride.
Marius, our vineyard lead, has taken charge and anchored the effort, leading by example. Under his firm hand, the team handled these delicate, concentrated clusters with immense care. What a privilege to work with fruit from vines this old!
19
February
2026
The Grenache Gambit
Today brought that inevitable day every winemaker and owner eventually faces: The Endless Discussion to try something new. I’ve been plotting for months. I want Grenache Noir, and I’d researched enough before approaching Gerard.
“Can I buy some Grenache Noir, please?” I asked, putting on my best ‘trust me’ face. Gerard looked at me with mock despair. “You winemakers are all the same. I hope you sleep soundly at night!” He laughed, but he agreed. Once Gerard is in, he’s all in. It feels like an express train roaring along behind me, backing my decision. It’s playful, slightly terrifying, and brilliant.
Stay tuned…
27
February
2026
The Day of the Jason
The last few days have been a hard slog. It’s been Syrah, Syrah, Syrah, and then – just for a change of pace – some more Syrah.
I’ve watched the team hit the wall. The banter has died; the cellar is quiet. It’s like a scene from a gritty drama where everyone is staring into their tea, contemplating their life choices.
We were losing the battle against fatigue, so I called in our “Secret Weapon”: Jason. I told him, “I need you now. The spark is gone.” He gave me a solemn “yes”. I walked in later to find Jason performing a Shakira-inspired dance routine. The team was bursting with laughter; the “quiet fatigue” gone. Sometimes, all you need is Jason.
10
March
2026
The Final Sprint: Pizza & Persuasion
Our Syrah vines are starting to show serious stress after a dry winter and a relentless summer. Once Syrah starts stressing, it’s a nightmare to get them back. We’re facing the music of the unpredictable South African climate.
We’ve geared down and brought in an external team of 25 to help us cross the finish line. Every morning at 06:00, the onslaught begins. France, our tractor driver – the man who can reverse a tractor with a double-axle trailer into a postage stamp – is herding the team between the vineyard and the cellar.
By the time the external pickers left, the permanent team was hitting a breaking point. Everyone was contemplating a “ninja act” – dissolving into the shadows and disappearing into the night. Just as hope was fading, Libby (the co-owner, Gerard’s wife) appeared with steaming hot pizzas and Energades. My mother, Karin, always said that “hungry is the best cook,” and she was right. What a difference a short break and a pizza can make. Shoulders lifted; it was as if the “Jason of food” had performed his own wonderful act.
19
March
2026
The Pedal and the Prodigy
Harvest is technically “over,” but the cellar is just getting started. We are currently in a cycle of endless pump-overs and punch-downs. It doesn’t help getting good grapes in if you then take your foot off the pedal.
During the chaos, one of our vineyard workers, Devandre, started asking some incredibly insightful questions. His curiosity gave me an idea: “Come to the cellar and help me with the actions needed.” It turns out he is a fast learner and painfully neat and precise – the perfect combination for cellar work. He has taken over the post-harvest actions with total focus.
The tanks are looking great. What a way to end the harvest of 2026. My hands are still stained, my joints still ache, but the wine is safe.
The Verdict: The cellar is full, the team is intact, and the “Slow Cooking” continues…
To Another Hands-On Harvest!
