For most people, Africa summons up images of lions, tigers, and baboons. So in preparation for our trip to South Africa, and in relation to the most famous and dangerous game we’d see on safari, my wife liked to quiz me: “What are the big five?” (The answer is lion, leopard, elephant, rhino, and water buffalo.)

But for me, I confess that South Africa was all about wine. So I would reply, in reference to the five grape varieties involved in the making of red Bordeaux, “cabernet sauvignon and franc, merlot, petite verdot, and malbec.”

For part one of our journey into the heart of chenin blanc-ness, click here for more:

I’m one of the few who, when they think of South Africa, think right away about wine. Although the wine scene there, which centers on a university-aggie town called Stellenbosch about a 45 minute drive east of Cape Town, is undergoing an explosive renaissance, not many seem to have noticed. In preparation for our trip, I searched everywhere for literature about wines in ZA. (That’s the international abbreviation for South Africa; I guess Société Anonyme got there first with the “S.”) And besides the excellent annual guides published by local John Platter, there’s, well, nothing. Ditto for the availability of the actual wines in U.S. stores.

This Kalahari-esque drought makes sense in light of two things: geography and politics. The two-day flight to Cape Town will clarify to any visitor how far away this wine region is. It’s no surprise, then, that outstanding wines come out of the cellar, but no one is in within earshot to hear the cork pop. And yes, Australia is also remote, but that now-ubiquitous exporter didn’t have to bounce back from the global scorn and economic sanctions heaped upon South Africa because of apartheid.

The anonymity of South African wine doesn’t make sense, though, once you’ve seen the gorgeous expanse of its vineyards, witnessed the new vitality of the industry (Platter reports that a new winery opened in ZA every six days in 2003), and of course tasted its best wines. One of our faves, in fact, was a B.E.E. or “Black Economic Empowerment” wine, a cabernet-merlot blend from the black-owned Bouwland winery. How’s that for justice served?

Plus, prices are comparatively low, if not crazy low. On the high end, because we were afraid we’d never see it again, we allowed ourselves to be horribly overcharged in a touristy restaurant for a 2001 Rust en Vrede Estate, the Lafite of the dark continent—for $78. Best buy? A $6 chenin blanc from Kanu Wines, which could have knocked my current house white, an unoaked chard from Oregon at more than twice the price, right off the top shelf of my fridge. Most of the other high-end wines we tasted were $10 to $20.

Coming next week: Part 2, including our encounter with the dreaded pinotage!