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A hidden valley of wine beneath an enchanted mountain

On the money. (Photo: Tony Jackman)

9 May 2025

We must have driven past this valley scores of times over the years of Karoo travelling. This time, we turned right, and right again, to find a glorious surprise.

A mountain backdrop worthy of a pastoral scene on a 1960s tin of biscuits. Sunlight caressing the tips of lush green vineyards snuggling against its slopes. That feeling of grace and solitude that seems to pervade the vineyard lifestyle.

But where are we? Could this be Franschhoek? Somewhere near Paarl, maybe? No, not nearly busy enough for Die Pêrel. Agter-Pêrel, maybe. Or are these among the vineyards that grace so many parts of the rolling hills near Stellenbosch, a hidden valley of vines tucked behind a mountain, where very lucky people live out their languid lives?

None of the above. We’re 300km away from Stellenbosch, slightly further from Franschhoek, and it would take three hours to drive to Paarl from here.

Our nearest town from here has a fame of its own these days, thanks to a world-famous author living in the vicinity. We’re in Tannie Maria se wêreld, and our nearest town is Ladismith, Klein Karoo.

Does Tannie Maria even know that hidden in the hills and valleys beyond the steadfast Klein Swartberg mountain backdrop that guards Ladismith, her home town, are winelands scenes that make you think you’re in Franschhoek or Stellenbosch?

It was an eye-opener for me.

As we drove towards Ladismith from the eerily gorgeous Huis Rivier Pass that connects this part of the Klein Karoo with Calitzdorp and Oudshoorn towards the east, I could see no sign of vineyards.

I knew that we needed to turn right somewhere, but by the time we reached the edge of town we hadn’t spotted anything that we thought could have been the required turnoff. Then we saw a sign, and after a few turns left and right on this end of town we weren’t much the wiser; it all seemed suburban in a rustic way, and I wondered if we should turn back.

Then, a tarred road to somewhere. The scenes to both sides grew more verdant, prettier, until we seemed to be in another province altogether. This is the Karoo, remember — you have to drive all the way from Ladismith to Barrydale and on to Montagu before you get scenery that’s anything like the Cape Winelands.

You take a right turn and curve your way through some gentle bends, then turn right again on to a farm track that delivers you into somebody else’s private world.

And it’s a mesmerising world, knowing where you are. A world to muse upon, a world of reveries. And you know how given I am to reveries, if you’ve been with me on this journey for the past many years.

The name of this farm quickly comes into sharp focus. Mymering. It means, yes, a musing, something to ponder on. A reverie. I had not known the word until, a few months ago, I received an email out of the blue from Penny Hillock, and if you know Cape wines that surname is likely to ring a bell.

This is the home of Hillock Wines, where Penny and Andy Hillock live a life enviable to most of us. But we don’t have to own this kind of heaven to be able to enjoy it, from time to time. And we have been invited to share this world, for an afternoon and a night, plus a little slice of the next morning, and then be on our way back to our real lives.

Penny and Andy Hillock of Hillock Wines on their farm, Mymering. (Photo: Tony Jackman)

We only met Penny and Andy that day. She’d sent me an email in February saying she loved my columns and wanted to order my book, foodSTUFF. At first, the plan was for me to pick it up on my way to Cape Town via Route 62 and deliver it in person, staying over at their guest farm. Well, guest farm and wine farm; it’s one and the same place.

But I needed to change my route, going on Route 63 instead. If you don’t know this road, just one digit away from its more famous cousin, you’re missing out on one of the Karoo’s most enjoyable drives.

In fact, if you live where I live, you start your journey on Route 61 (Cradock to Graaff-Reinet), then turn onto the R63, skirting the Nqweba Dam within the Camdeboo National Park and making your way to Murraysburg. Forty-odd kilometres later you cross the N1 and on to Victoria West, then the strangeness of little Loxton; poor, neglected Carnarvon, then Williston and finally my destination, Calvinia.

But this time we’re on Route 62. Having had to cancel that visit to Mymering, I sent the book by courier to Andy and Penny’s business in PE/Gqeberha, which is a pity, because just a few weeks later I had made good on my promise to visit Mymering next time we went that way. What a pity I could not have handed it over in person.

But with hindsight it wasn’t a bad thing, because not taking the book with me meant it could be all about them, not me, and despite what my friends might say, I prefer it that way. (But drop me a line if you’re after one; the stocks are low now.)

We don’t meet either Penny or Andy until a few hours later. First, Leonie January shows us to our accommodation, the Bubbles suite. Set in a hillside, it has a pool deck with a view towards vineyards and the Klein Swartberg, with its famous Towerkop guarding the valley from its heavenly perch. We’re to meet Penny and Andy later for what she promises will be a wild evening. Get ready for some fun, she says with a giggle.

Even the bath has a view. (Photo: Tony Jackman)

To one side of the bedroom, sliding doors lead to a very private outdoor bathroom, slipper tub, shower and all. The adjacent deck has a gas braai tucked around the corner, even an outdoor scullery. Maybe we’ll get Tannie Maria and Sally Andrew around for a dinner party on the deck next time around. (Two for the price of one.)

A pool with a view. (Photo: Tony Jackman)

There’s a late afternoon dip with a glass of wine perched at the poolside — when in other people’s worlds, best to live like they do too, just for a while — before we find our way to the main building, Hillock Restaurant, with its wide, airy deck and of course that same view. There are no others dining tonight, so we’re their guests, just like joining a table with old friends.

Because, though the farm is called Mymering, this is really the home of Hillock Wines, and Penny is the winemaker. Alongside the restaurant is her cellar, a miniature version of those gargantuan cellars you find in the better known winelands.

Penny in her snug cellar. (Photo: Tony Jackman)

Penny is a businesswoman, who established her Penmark hospitality business specialising in branded clothing and gifts as long ago as 1986. Turns out we have made contact before — not me, but the Foodie’s Wife Diane Cassere had dealings with Penny in the 90s as Promotions Manager for The Cape Times. Strange how worlds collide out of the blue. Andy is a retired doctor, and like any medical professional has some riveting stories to tell. But table talk is private so we’ll sprint to the food.

Oh and the wine.

Saucy labels. (Photos: Tony Jackman)

Hillock Hedonist. Mile High. Penelope Ann. The last is named after Penny, of course — an undeniably yeasty blanc de blanc bubbly from 100% chardonnay, made in the old French style, the way MCC used to be. Comfortably familiar. Penny designed the labels herself.

Tongue equally comfortable in cheek, Hillock Wines’ website’s own notes describe the Hedonist as a peachy, honeyed chenin black “in a cheeky bottle”. The Mile High, meanwhile, is a 50/50 blend of pinotage and merlot. I adored this wine with its spicy berry character and tannins that were behaving themselves.

Simone Daniels, left, and Leonie January. (Photo: Tony Jackman)

These, of course, accompanied the food cooked by chef Simone Daniels and served by wine steward (but also food server) Leonie January, who was also the cheerful one-woman welcome party earlier who had promised us a fine time once dinner hour arrived.

Fabulous turned-out soufflé. (Photo: Tony Jackman)

And here it was. Let me tell you about this soufflé. Mushrooms, spinach, lightness, effortlessly cheesy, just divine. In a moat of delectable mildly mustardy sauce that had me wanting to lick the plate. I didn’t, don’t worry; I have managed to retain some of my table manners despite these years of living in the Karoo. Some. Not necessarily all.

The pub, formerly a reception desk. (Photo: Tony Jackman)

Admiring an arresting wooden bar in a nearby corner, we’re told it was a part of the reception desk at the Fields Hill Hotel in Durban. Whereupon Leonie serves us Steak Diane — a nod to Foodie’s Wife Diane Cassere seated to my left. Nice touch. The meat was venison and flavoured with biltong dukkah spices, with pumpkin, red onion and sweet potato chips on the side.

Venison Steak Diane. (Photo: Tony Jackman)

Dessert is chocolate fondant, wow. Brave choice for anybody. Yet perfectly turned out, oozing chocolatey delight. Not satisfied with a mere perfect fondant, Simone Daniels served it with lovely homemade vanilla ice cream and a sprightly cap of golden spun sugar.

Mindblowing chocolate fondant. (Photo: Tony Jackman)

We’re not leaving early the next day, as we only need to reach Cape Town late afternoon and it’s only 322km away. The gods of all that is beautiful bless us with a perfect, still sunny morning to be enjoyed in this most beautiful of valleys, with the chirping of birds in every tree, anywhere you go.

A breakfast starter in a parfait glass. (Photo: Tony Jackman)

Penny and Andy join us for a sublime breakfast. Parfait glasses of yoghurt, fresh fruit and muesli; eggs Benedict — lovely runny poached eggs with bacon and greens, and my omelette.

You may know about my relationship with omelettes. I am very hard to please with an omelette. I am impossible when it comes to omelettes. If ever I am turfed out of a restaurant, it will be because of the fuss I made because my omelette was wrong, yet again.

On the money. (Photo: Tony Jackman)

All the extra things were inside it — bacon, tomato, mushrooms, feta cheese. Fluffy, and so yellow because of the use of farm eggs. Not overworked, as an omelette almost invariably is. A light hand created this A-grade example of what an omelette should be. But I will continue to order anything but an omelette on most menus, because experience has taught me that most chefs are not to be trusted with this art.

Coda

We’ve been invited back, because that’s just how well we all got along. I hardly ever return to a place, because I always need to find something new to write about. But we won’t be able to turn this one down. DM

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