Dreamy and hopelessly romantic,

The name Falke evokes a certain sense of panic in me when I think of me with my bright Falke socks tucked neatly into my Solomon’s scaling a mountain albeit in gasping breaths. The farm Peter Falke has the opposite effect. There you want to take your Falke socks off and toss your Solomon’s to the curb. The place demands time out whilst you stare at the Helderberg Mountains calling your name in the distance, not now you might be thinking coyly.

Over the years I have watched the table capacity grow, the staff increase and the rose garden flourish. Daniele is wife to Peter Falke and her involvement in design is so acute in the quirkiness of the tasting room and the playfulness in the garden.  I found the atmosphere almost whimsical as scores of friends arrived to soak up the sunset, holding hands and laughing. Winemaker Werner Schrenk has made some award winners, a top up of Chardonnay please (wink). The wine stewards are attentive, friendly and well informed. Platters are beautifully presented and morish. It’s a gift to be able to sit and relax in a setting like the one Peter Falke offers but my biggest treasured moment was taking in the sweet scent  of freshly picked roses, taking me back to the days gone by of me and my sisters playing in my granny’s Rose Garden. Well done Peter Falke for evoking all the senses and some!