“I’m a slight control freak,” Rory Lancellas tells me. He’s well known for his modest manner but even for him, this is an understatement.

Rory launched Aegir Project Independent Brewery in 2015 in Noordhoek, a particularly laid back suburb of Cape Town, South Africa. It would be two years before he hired anyone to assist him, partly because he’s such a stickler for things to be done so perfectly he couldn’t imagine passing any part of the process—from milling grain, to serving, to washing the glasses—to anyone else.

The brewery was an instant hit, gaining a loyal following of beer enthusiasts and locals happy to have a new watering hole in their midst. It was an exciting time to be a beer start-up in South Africa. The craft beer scene had eased out of the starting blocks about five years earlier but by 2015, brewery numbers were growing by 50% year on year. Still, most local drinkers remained conservative and like many local breweries, Aegir kicked off with a lager—although not a style most drinkers had heard of at the time: California Common [otherwise known as Steam Beer—a hybrid style associated with San Francisco, brewed with lager yeast at ale temperatures].

“When we first opened, California Steamin’ was the biggest seller,” Rory says, referring to his California common. It’s a subtle but complex beer, nutty on the nose with a just-about discernible fruitiness and a crisp, bitter finish leaving just a hint of fresh mint. “I wanted to do a lager but one that was different; something lager drinkers would be comfortable with but that could serve as a gateway to other styles.”

South Africa’s beer landscape has long been dominated by South African Breweries (now owned by the largest brewing company in the world, AB InBev), which controls around 90% of the beer market here. Much of the remainder belongs to Heineken, with the country’s 200-or-so microbreweries sharing about 1% of the pie. Lager still reigns, but since Aegir’s launch, Rory has seen a change in his customers’ tastes.

“When I first designed the core range, it culminated in quite a progressive IPA and in 2015, the local palate definitely wasn’t ready for that,” he says. “Today though, Giant IPA is easily my biggest seller.”

He’s not the only one within South African brewing circles that has noticed the gradual acceptance, or indeed demand, for hoppier beers. Greg Casey is the owner of Afro Caribbean Brewing Company, the brewery sitting above his restaurant, the Caribbean-themed Banana Jam Café. As well as serving jerk chicken and curried goat, Banana Jam has become the de facto home of craft beer in Cape Town. Its 30 taps pour a wide range of beers from around the country, along with a couple of imports, a lone macro lager and a range from the in-house brewery.

“Jungle IPA is now our top seller,” Greg tells me, though it wasn’t created to be a volume beer. He always assumed their well-balanced, 4.5% ABV Island Blonde would be the money-maker, but over the years he’s seen a gradual push towards more bitter, more hop-forward beers.

“I find that our house IPA does well, but generally the price of other IPAs puts people off,” says Greg. “If an IPA is on special, though, it flies—more so than any other style.”

Along with a popular IPA, Greg and Rory have something else in common: they can’t keep up with demand—a rare problem in a country where scoring shelf space is an ongoing challenge and many breweries operate at less than 50% of their capacity. They are widely envied by their fellow brewers and lauded for their “dream” business model—the bustling brewpub. Greg, it’s fair to say, revels in his near-legendary status but Rory, by comparison, is ever uncomfortable with praise.

“Everybody thinks this model makes a lot of money, but they don’t realise all the costs—everything from staff training to glassware as well as the usual overheads. It’s a model with better cash flow, but not significantly higher profits,” he says.

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In the beginning, Rory and his partner in life and business, Carey Scagell, ran the brewery without help. However, two years after their launch, they began to staff the taproom. “The crazy part is that I said I couldn’t afford it but as soon as I hired that first person, we started making so much more money because I wasn’t giving all the beer away!” Rory laughs.

Rory is the reluctant face of the brewery but it’s Carey that, in Rory’s words, “literally holds the place together.” Calm, quiet and seemingly unflappable, she has no desire to be caught even in the shadows of the spotlight. But behind the scenes, she keeps Aegir’s loyal and welcoming team together. Its staff retention rate is high in a country where bartending and waiting tables is usually a stopgap job. In part, this is undoubtedly down to the pride of working at one of South Africa’s most respected breweries, but I suspect it is also partly because of Carey. She’s like that firm but friendly teacher you had in high school—the one that would never shout at you, but who you admired and wanted to impress.

The vibe at the brewery is as chilled as its owners, despite being perpetually busy. It exudes an old-world charm that locals can’t resist: kids climb in trees, dogs chase each other between tables, people share benches with strangers and passing folk bands rock up to play for tips. The taproom opens Thursday to Sunday, while the rest of the week is for brewing.

Two years ago, Rory hired Shaggy Musasa, an old friend who had worked for the family in various roles for more than a decade. Gradually, Rory has (reluctantly) relinquished some control, sheepishly admitting that just last month he finally let Shaggy clean a fermenter. Together they brew the core range, which also includes Extra Pale Uil—a 3.8% ABV quaffer with a pleasant whiff of tropical fruit salad about it—and Red Rye. It’s Aegir’s only malt bomb, boasting rich flavours of spice and singed toast. Increasingly though, Rory is eschewing more mainstream ideas, and trying to brew outside the box.

“About six months ago, I had an epiphany,” Rory tells me. “I realised that I don’t have to do core beers any more if I don’t want to. I think I have enough trust from my customers to brew weird and crazy stuff and they’ll still come and drink it.”

“I think I have enough trust from my customers to brew weird and crazy stuff and they’ll still come and drink it.””

— Rory Lancellas

The “weird stuff” includes seasonals like marshmallow stout, a polarising melon gose, a widely adored piña colada sour and, for the brewery’s fourth birthday bash, a key lime pie sour topped with beer-infused soft-serve. I make a beeline for the brewery every time something new is launched, always excited to taste Rory’s latest innovation. They haven’t all been hits, but his experimentation has started to introduce local drinkers to sour beer styles. Above all though, among South Africa’s admittedly diminutive beer geek community, he is known for his barrel-aged one-offs and beer-wine hybrids.

It all began with Rus. Brewed just a few months after the brewery launched, this imperial stout sat for six months in pinot noir barrels from one of the country’s prime producers, Hamilton Russell. I remember the first time I tasted it. It was mid-winter in Cape Town and the rain was falling in torrents. Rory had invited us to join him and Carey to sample a beer that had caused him stress, panic and glee in equal amounts.

The beer was as sublime as it was complex—dark chocolate, black cherries, just a hint of the French oak it had been sitting in, and a fleeting whiff of the barnyard character associated with Pinot. The 500 bottles sold quickly, Rus helping to cement Rory’s position not just as a maker of clean, drinkable ales, but as a talented brewer and industry innovator.

***

Rory learned to brew on a work-to-travel trip around New Zealand, but it was in Scotland that his eyes were “really opened as to what beer could be.” While undertaking brewing stints at two Scottish microbreweries—Knops in Dirleton and Barney’s in central Edinburgh—Rory began to put together his plan for a Cape Town brewpub. And part of that plan involved the country’s long-established wine industry.

“I’m a big wine drinker, and here in South Africa we have an amazing wine industry—it would be dumb not to use that,” Rory tells me.

Enter Ode to Harvest, a series that brings together wine and beer. Released once a year, the range has featured a Sauvignon Blanc/pilsner hybrid and a golden ale married with a legendary local Muscadel. “It was a tough sell at first, but as craft has grown, the hybrids are getting more respect,” he says, the relief in his voice evident, as he realises his passion project might actually help his brewery become profitable.

Rory was not the first in town to tackle beer/wine fusions or barrel-aged beers. That title most likely goes to Devil’s Peak. Now one of the country’s largest microbreweries, Devil’s Peak launched in 2011 with a golden ale and a way-ahead-of-its-time West Coast IPA. In 2013 winemaker-turned-Devil’s Peak head brewer, JC Steyn, unveiled Vannie Hout, a barrel-aged saison showcasing the very thing that scared him most as a winemaker—Brettanomyces. Vannie Hout has been rereleased almost every year since, along with other barrel-aged specials and a couple of beer-wine hybrids.

“It’s hard to say whether the South African market is ready for these types of beers as people haven’t really been exposed to the styles,” JC tells me, though, with 50,000 litres currently ageing in wood at Devil’s Peak’s Afrofunk facility, the brewery is certainly backing the popularity of barrel-aged beer.

Rory currently has a far more modest 8000 litres of beer in oak, with releases planned over the next few weeks, months and years. “I really want to focus on spontaneous fermentation and sours,” he says, though he acknowledges it’s more of a passion project than a money-spinner. “I think it’ll be 10 years before beers like this become viable in South Africa, but it’s a great way to bring wine drinkers over.”

Increasing craft beer’s reach is one of the major challenges for South African brewers. With around 40% of the population living on less than ZAR1500 (£80) per month and a pint averaging ZAR50 (£2.70), craft beer is simply too expensive for most, so attracting adventurous wine drinkers is one way for the market to grow. And it does need to grow. The first boom is over; handfuls of breweries are closing down and fewer are opening each year. But there is still optimism about craft beer’s future in South Africa.

“I don’t think we’ve even scratched the surface of what we can do,” says Rory. “We’re definitely going through a consolidation phase but I think it’s actually a really good thing for the guys that really care.”