The worldwide Shiraz/Syrah phenomenon is now in full flight and already, at least if you're a grower, it may be too late. The variety, which 50 years ago accounted for less than 10000ha for the whole world now totals more than 150000ha, and fruit prices are in free fall.

Part of what made Shiraz so sexy when it stepped into the limelight is what is now costing it appeal: the easy, simple drinkability tipped a whole generation of newcomers to wine in the direction of the Australian (rather than Rhone-style) version. Now several years on, they are looking for some detail, some nuance, some intricacy. Instead, most of what they get is about as interesting as a peroxide-and-silicon blonde.

We've seen the pattern before and it set Chardonnay back several decades. It, too, was unknown outside a few regions in France before California "discovered" it a few decades ago . It also made wine easy for those to whom it had previously been an arcane and inaccessible beverage.

Ripe, sweet fruit, dollops of new caramel-flavoured French oak, and cellar handling that minimised acidity were all that it took. Unfortunately, as generations of adolescents have discovered, easy is ultimately not interesting.

Shiraz shares another feature with Chardonnay: it offers two distinct styles, both quite far apart. For Chardonnay the one is slightly citrus y and lean, frequently unwooded and with so-called mineral notes as its defining virtue. The other is richer, fuller, funkier, softer and more oxidative - therefore as expressive of the barrels in which it has been vinified as the site on which the grapes were grown.

The parallel for Shiraz is uncanny: the classical style is Northern Rhone - lean, taut, peppery, savoury. The other is equally legitimate and comes from Australia, which has a treasure trove of century-old ungrafted vines yielding fruit that is dense, plush, often gooey. It is easy to caricature the overdone commercial versions that come out of South Australia, but the benchmarks - such as Penfolds Grange - have not become vinous classics by fooling all of the people all of the time.

La Motte's Hein Koegelenberg recently hosted a Shiraz Experience attended by most of the industry's key producers. International keynote speakers included UK Master of Wine Lynne Sherriff and Australian winemaking great Geoff Merrill. La Motte's reputation as one of the Cape's best and most consistent Shiraz cellars made it the logical venue for the event - though the visitors' centre with its new restaurant and the Pierneef Museum cemented the claim.

Part of the symposium involved a blind tasting of several of the world's top Shirazes, together with three South African candidates, an Antinori wine from Italy; and one of the most highly rated of the new generation Californians.

The French and the Australians did not have it all their own way, though Merrill's Henley emerged in first place, ahead of Guigal's La Mouline, Chapoutier's L'Ermite, Hill of Grace and Grange. None of the South African candidates was out of class: Constantia's Eagles' Nest finished in second place, La Motte midway through the rankings and Boekenhoutskloof ahead of Jaboulet's La Chapelle.

Cynics will no doubt point out (not incorrectly) that it costs a lot of money to make a good wine even fractionally better, so what does this exercise prove? The answer - even after you've discounted the averaging effect of group scores - is that hype is hardly ever worth the price. The most expensive wines are not markedly better than the more reasonably priced once you are in a quality wine bracket. More importantly, the Cape is now making wines which (in their youth, at any rate) comfortably rival the long-established big names . You don't feel like forking out R2000 for a cult wine from the Rhone or Barossa? For R200, local is just as lekker.