Founded by Jayson Woodbridge, Hundred Acre is among a small handful of Napa’s top cult Cabernet producers. Made in tiny quantities from distinctive estate vineyards, its powerful, age-worthy wines have earned numerous perfect scores and a devoted following among collectors worldwide.

Hundred Acre

Founded by Jayson Woodbridge, Hundred Acre is among a small handful of Napa’s top cult Cabernet producers. 

Hundred Acre Vineyard

Earlier this month, I returned to Auxey Duresses to spend time at the Domaine and taste the 2026 Maison Leroy release in full. This was a significant visit.

We tasted more than 25 wines across vintages, appellations and styles, which allowed for a level of depth and comparative understanding that is rarely possible with Maison Leroy. It is a way of tasting that strips away hierarchy and focuses entirely on expression, timing and intent.

Having visited consistently for more than 12 years, and multiple times each year, I have seen many releases in different forms. I can say with confidence that this is the most complete and compelling Maison Leroy selection I have encountered. It is an exceptional release. The 2026 Maison Leroy collection tasted as a modern collection in the fullest sense. What gives it its shape every year are wines drawn from different years, now brought together at a point where Madame believes the wines have something extraordinary to say. However, this felt like the first Maison collection to begin to mirror, with real conviction, the superlative character of Domaine Leroy.

There is range here, certainly, across appellation, level and vintage. Each feels released at precisely the point where evolution had hardened rather than softened its definition.

That is what gives the release its outright drinkability — an unflattering expression to many, and perhaps one not preferred at the Maison, but these were wines of serious joy and poise.

What makes the 2026 release especially significant is that it presents Maison Leroy in a form that feels entirely of the present, while carrying the same gravitas, refinement and inner control that have come to define the Domaine at its highest level. The result is a Maison collection of unusual stature: one that stands on its own terms, yet also comes closer than any previous release to reflecting the authority and brilliance associated with the Domaine’s dominant era. Process and Élevage To understand Maison Leroy, one must first understand the process. Every wine is tasted blind by Madame Lalou Bize Leroy before any decision is made. Hundreds of wines are assessed each year, with producer, appellation and reputation set aside. Rarely do new wines make the cut. Only when a wine meets her standard does it carry the Leroy name. That responsibility remains directly hers. It is only the beginning. Once secured, the wines are transferred to the cellars, where they enter a long and closely controlled élevage. For the reds, with Bourgogne Rouge the sole exception, every wine completes its élevage in used Domaine Leroy barrels, regardless of appellation. Village or premier cru, classification gives way to quality. Each wine is handled according to its potential, allowing a level of refinement and integration that rises above hierarchy. The same philosophy applies to the whites. With Bourgogne Blanc the exception, the wines complete their élevage in used Domaine d’Auvenay oak barrels. The foundation of Maison Leroy Maison Leroy is the original cornerstone of one of Burgundy's most influential and enduring families. Founded in 1868 by François Leroy in Auxey-Duresses, the business began as a négociant operation with access to vineyards across the Côte d'Or, including Auxey-Duresses, Meursault, Pommard, Chambertin, Musigny, Clos Vougeot and Richebourg. At the time, the wines were not bottled under the Leroy name, instead being sold through the Comptoir des Propriétaires de la Côte d'Or. Under Joseph Leroy, the Maison expanded commercially, before Henri Leroy fundamentally reshaped its trajectory. In 1942, during a period of uncertainty in Burgundy, Henri acquired a 50% stake in Domaine de la Romanée-Conti. His stewardship was instrumental in restoring and elevating the estate to its modern standing at the very pinnacle of fine wine. While the négociant arm continued, it was under Lalou Bize-Leroy that Maison Leroy assumed its modern identity. Joining the family business in 1955 and taking control in 1971, Lalou transformed the Maison into something far more exacting: a house defined by independence, absolute selection and long-term vision. Maison Leroy sits at the centre of a wider Leroy ecosystem, alongside Domaine Leroy and Domaine d'Auvenay – each representing distinct, yet complementary, expressions of the same uncompromising philosophy — wines that consistently transcend AOC convention. The forthcoming Domaine Leroy release will offer a contrasting perspective – rooted in vineyard ownership and production, yet entirely equivalent in rarity, prestige and ultimate quality.  The 2026 Maison Leroy collection will be released soon. Read more about Maison Leroy and browse all current listings 

Managing Director Craig Norton returns to Auxey-Duresses for a tasting unlike any other – the 2026 Maison Leroy collection in full, and what it reveals about one of Burgundy's most singular houses.

The 2026 Maison Leroy collection in full — selected by Madame Lalou Bize-Leroy, released only when ready. 


The 2026 Maison Leroy Collection

There are times when you put a question to a winemaker and he puffs out his cheeks and rubs his chin and you know he’s thinking, ‘Journalists.’ When I ask Promontory’s David Cilli what exactly is meant by ‘interpretation of terroir’, he courteously describes the process of trying to get the wine to reflect the character of the land. But he gives the impression my question was like quizzing Monet on how he got his effects. If you don’t get it, you probably won’t. The character of Promontory, on the day I visit, is quite something. It’s early May and the rain, which has been falling steadily all night, has turned to a lashing downpour that has raindrops bouncing six inches off the windscreen. We’re in a jeep piloted by winegrowing director Cory Empting and since turning off the main road we’ve been climbing steadily through dripping stands of oak with pocket-handkerchief vineyards between them. ‘Shall we stay in the car?’ asks Empting. ‘If we could,’ Will Harlan suggests from the back seat. I’m here with Empting, Cilli and Harlan. Bill Harlan has appeared briefly but I don’t see him again until we sit down to taste. He formally handed over control of Harlan Estate, Promontory, Bond and The Mascot in 2021, appointing 37-year-old Will managing director. Cilli (44) arrived in 2012 and is in charge of vineyard and winemaking at Promontory. Promontory is an 840-acre fastness, a deep valley folded into the foothills of Mount Veeder, on the west side of the Napa Valley. From the highway, you think the looming ridge you’re looking at is the edge of Sonoma. But there’s another ridge beyond and between them this interesting domain. It’s remote, even by Napa standards (contrary to opinion, there are plenty of wild spaces in the county). The ultra-refined French Laundry is a couple of miles away but it might be in Wisconsin for all the relevance it has up here. Bill Harlan had come upon it hiking in the 1980s. ‘I used the Carmelite monastery [we’d passed it on the way up] as a base and just started climbing’. There were no vines but he was intrigued by its seclusion. It might be possible vineland for the Napa project he had in mind. In the end, Harlan Estate was founded less than a mile to the north but for 25 years Harlan kept the idea of that parcel tucked under his hat (he never mentioned it, Will says) before it came on the market in 2007 and he snapped it up. "Vineyards, some a mere half-acre, are etched into towering, wooded hillsides and drop down into cavernous combes dense with oak and fir" The owner – the Harlans don’t reveal who that is – had planted 80-odd acres of Cabernet Sauvignon. It was neglected, the vines overgrown. Trees had been felled and never collected. ‘It was a mess,’ Will says. ‘It looked like a logging operation.’ But it is magnificent. Vineyards, some a mere half-acre, are etched into towering, wooded hillsides and drop down into cavernous combes dense with oak and fir. The whole estate is thickly forested, the vines often shaded on three sides. An old drovers’ road, running through the woods, will suddenly open out on a wide vista of vineyard and scree. Everything is deeply, lushly green in the steadily falling spring rain. The geology of the land is unusual, in that it rests on two distinct fault lines and consists of all three soil types that are found in Napa: volcanic, sedimentary and metamorphic. ‘You get all three in the same soil pit,’ Cilli notes. This, combined with the wild variation in aspect and the microclimate of the valley-within-a-valley, gives credence to Harlan’s claims that this part of Napa is like nowhere else in California. When the celebrated soil scientists Claude and Lydia Bourguignon came, they found the experience ‘novel’. Cilli said he fell in love with Promontory at first sight. It reminded him, in part, of his native Tuscany, but it was the wildness that captivated him, ‘I love that character that you can see in the wines.’ He said it was probably ‘the only project that could keep me in the valley.’ You get the impression none of them can quite believe their luck. ‘It somehow redefined what looks beautiful,’ Will says. It also redefined their ideas of winemaking. He goes on: ‘We were used to control. Harlan in the 1990s was obsessed with organisation and uniformity but Promontory was wild.’ The theme of wildness recurs. Harvest times are key to ‘find a way for it to come through,’ Will says. Empting: ‘Pick too late and you lose the ruggedness.’ Ageing, in the magnificent Howard Backen-designed chai, is all in Stockinger Austrian oak barrels ranging in size from 10,000 to 46,000 litres, for up to 36 months. ‘The fine-yet-tight tannins required longer barrel-ageing but [we] didn’t want the wine to be overpowered by new oak’. It’s a constant process of refinement and improvement – ‘we learn something new each season’. Empting: ‘It has blown every expectation out of the water. We were excited and we were scared. We didn’t know what this beast would be. Our learning curve has been very steep, it remains very steep. At least now we’re starting to get our arms around it but at the beginning, it was like: God, we cannot figure this thing out.” "I found in the 2016 a moment where the various elements come together: the savoury nose, the fine tannins, the weight without heaviness" You have to remember we’re talking about winemaking here, not Wittgenstein. But ‘interpretation of terroir’, if it’s to mean anything at all, should be taken seriously. I’ve seen vineland all over the world – rock-strewn fields in the Andean foothills, rainless Spanish deserts – but I’ve never seen anything like Promontory. Were I to be tasked with bottling the soul of that vineyard, I’d reach for metaphor as well. And so we come to the missing shade of blue. This is the concept propounded by the 18th-century philosopher David Hume, that an idea can be formulated without a previous sensory impression to give rise to it. He asked, Could a shade of blue missing from a spectrum be imagined by an observer? Harlan says (with a smile – he does have a degree in philosophy) that Promontory is the missing shade of red. ‘Until you’ve seen and experienced it, you don’t know that it’s missing. And so for us this was that final piece. The piece that wasn’t there that we had the opportunity to understand and try to translate into the wine.’ The next morning, in gorgeous May sunshine, we gather to taste. It’s almost the same group, though smaller, that did the mighty vertical of Harlan estate from magnum in 2020. Bill Harlan is there (he sweetly thanks the team for allowing him to taste, saying it’s the first full vertical of Promontory he’s ever done), Will, Empting, Cilli and the journalist Elaine Brown. We wonder, at the end, if there is thread that runs through the wines. In my notes the words ‘deceptively light’ recur, as do ‘structure’ and ‘stone’. Reaching for metaphor again, Will Harlan compares the structure of the 2016 to cathedral stone, which has ‘both weight and lightness. It’s intricately carved and light filters through the windows.’ I found in the 2016 a moment where the various elements come together: the savoury nose, the fine tannins, the weight without heaviness. Will Harlan calls this vintage an ‘inflection point’ and notes how the tannins are the ‘main differentiators’. Yes, agrees Cilli, ‘and because of the character of levity and lift, we have to be precise with the tannins.’ The younger vintages have an astonishing latent energy, tannins under tight rein, aromas bursting, the fruit compacted. Brown and I were struck not by the sophistication of these wines but by their honesty. Brown WhatsApped me later. ‘Promontory is the most transparent to place. The wines are impressively well crafted and elegant while still offering an almost wild or primal complex of flavours.’ "The wines are unmistakeably Californian but they are also unlike anything I’ve tasted in Napa" ‘How do we take wine from a wilderness and have sophistication?’ Will asked. It’s a great question – with their resources, the Harlans could do anything they liked with Promontory. After all, they have to make a wine that will please their audience. But this was so unexpected. The tasting revealed a keen focus on the land and the vintage. The difference between the years was often marked – the challenge of 2015 for example showed in the wine – yet we could see that common thread running through, even as the wines increased in elegance. And what of Will’s quest for the missing shade of red? The wines are unmistakeably Californian – that splendid 2017 could come from nowhere else – but they are also unlike anything I’ve tasted in Napa, which is quite a claim, in the world’s most cultivated wine region. Perhaps the last word should go to Bill Harlan, who started the whole thing. He speaks hardly at all during the tasting, his Old Testament face giving little away. At the end of the morning, he talks of his fascination with the ‘ongoing discovery’ of the project. The wines have character, layers and depth, he says, and – by way of praising their authenticity – he notes, ‘You never know what’s coming next.’

Written for Club Oenologique, contributor Adam Lechmere visits California to trace the evolution of Promontory, one of Napa’s most magnificent sites, with a vertical tasting of 14 vintages revealing the wild beauty, elegance and remarkable evolution of its wines.

Written for Club Oenologique, contributor Adam Lechmere visits California to trace the evolution of Promontory, one of Napa’s most magnificent sites.

Wildness captured: tasting 14 vintages of Promontory

What springs to mind when you think of Bordeaux? Probably châteaux the size of medieval palaces, formal dinners, and rows and rows of pristine vines, neatly manicured rose bushes the only other signs of plant life. What you’re unlikely to be imagining are cow horns stuffed with manure buried in the ground, or horse-drawn ploughs churning through earthworm-rich soil. ‘In the past, in Bordeaux, you were scared to say you were growing biodynamically,’ says Corinne Comme, who manages 10ha of biodynamic vines at Château du Champ des Treilles in Entre-Deux-Mers with her husband Jean-Michel. ‘Now it’s trendy.’ An engineer and geologist, Jean-Michel Comme was behind the first transition of a grand cru classé estate on Bordeaux’s Left Bank to biodynamics. Although he and Corinne first came across the concept in the mid-1990s, he didn’t begin to advocate for the approach at Château Pontet-Canet in Pauillac until the early 2000s. ‘Corinne was scared,’ he recalls. ‘She thought they would fire me.’ "Behind the more esoteric elements is a series of principles that have been shown to improve soil health and vine strength" Originally laid out in a series of lectures by Austrian philosopher, scientist and social reformer Rudolf Steiner in 1924, biodynamic farming emerged as a holistic approach to agriculture before quickly evolving into formal certification movements. At its core, biodynamic farming centres on soil health and biodiversity; most distinctively, it operates according to the lunar calendar, with practitioners timing agricultural activities around specific ‘fruit days’, ‘root days’, ‘leaf days’ and ‘flower days’ to align with cosmic rhythms believed to influence plant growth and agricultural processes. For many in Bordeaux – Jean-Michel Comme included – this all sounded a bit wacky. ‘I was young, full of expectations about chemistry; the way biodynamics was presented was so remote that I felt it was crazy,’ Comme says. ‘But with experience, we did change our minds.’ Why? Because behind the more esoteric elements is a series of principles that have been shown to improve soil health and vine strength. In vineyards, biodynamic farming means specific practices such as hand-harvesting, using natural composts made with specific herbal and mineral preparations, avoiding chemical fertilisers and pesticides, and treating the entire vineyard as a self-sustaining ecosystem. In the cellar, there’s an emphasis on minimal intervention, using native yeasts, avoiding commercial additives, keeping sulphur use to under 70ppm, and employing gentle pressing and ageing techniques that respect the wine’s natural development. While biodynamics took root in regions like the Loire and Burgundy in the 1990s, biodynamic winemaking in Bordeaux largely began in the new millennium, with just two early St-Emilion exceptions: Château Meylet, which has been practising it since 1987, and Château Fonroque, experimenting since 1995 with direction from Loire legend Nicolas Joly. This delay largely stemmed from two factors. First, Bordeaux’s humid maritime climate means that vines are especially vulnerable to both downy and powdery mildew, making the avoidance of synthetic fungicides a risky business. Second, large châteaux with multimillioneuro operations were reluctant to abandon the technological viticulture and winemaking that had built their global reputations in the first place. Comme, however, was convinced of the virtues of biodynamics. He began by seeking the assistance of François Bouchet. The Loire Valley winemaker was one of the first in France to pioneer biodynamics, also consulting for Domaine de la Romanée-Conti, Domaine Leroy and Domaine Leflaive in Burgundy. Bouchet guided the transition to biodynamics at Comme’s Château du Champ des Treilles; then, he persuaded Château Pontet-Canet owner Alfred Tesseron of its merits. In 2004, it was trialled on 15ha (about 20% of the estate’s total growing area) of the fifth growth at which Comme was also technical director. A severe mildew outbreak in 2007 led to the use of pesticides, undoing three years of progress, but it then became a crucial lesson that strengthened their long-term commitment to biodynamics. ‘They believed the fruit had more expression, more brightness,’ says the current technical director at Pontet-Canet, Mathieu Bessonnet, who reveals that they converted the whole of the growing area soon after. ‘It’s obviously much more difficult, time-consuming and expensive, so it was very risky,’ he adds. Since then, biodynamic farming has become a significant and growing practice across different classed growths in the region, with some of the most prestigious estates – such as Château Latour and Château Palmer – adopting biodynamic methods (the latter certified). ‘The link between the wines and the place where the fruit came from had become less and less obvious,’ says Château Palmer’s technical director Thomas Duroux, commenting on the region’s turn to the trend. He notes that, since the noughties, many have adopted organic practices in a bid to reverse this perceived drop in terroir definition. ‘Biodynamics is, in a way, the same story as organic farming, but with a larger vision,’ he adds. This shared perspective has led to more cooperation between practitioners. Every spring, the Médoc branch of the Biodynamic Agriculture Movement gathers at Château Ferrière. After unearthing a thousand manure-filled cow horns and replacing them with silica-filled ones (a process reversed in autumn to produce preparations 500 and 501, required for Demeter certification), participants share wines and gardengrown salads. The humus removed from the cow horns is stored in a cold, damp facility and made available to members. ‘We do that for free,’ says Claire Lurton, owner of Château Ferrière. ‘It’s a community.’ Though ‘community’ might be too strong a word for some, these gatherings symbolise a deepening professional exchange that has emerged among estates of all sizes through the practice of biodynamic winemaking. In fact, the shift among the classed growths has happened at the same time as these practices have been adopted by smaller growers arriving in the region. Christophe Landry of Château des Graviers, for example, returned to Arsac in the 1990s and began practising biodynamics around the same time as Comme at Pontet-Canet. He’s consulted for the Lurton estates and other properties. Originally from Minervois in Languedoc, Michel Théron established Clos du Jaugueyron nearby and has been certified biodynamic since 2008, while Laurence Alias and Pascale Choime – who are both from southwest France – established Closerie des Moussis, a patchwork of sites across 2ha, including a 170-year-old pre-phylloxera plot leased from Théron. On the Right Bank, other producers began switching lanes even earlier. Le Puy, owned by the Amoreau family, began practising in 1998, with certification since 2013, and Château Gombaude-Guillot in Pomerol has been certified biodynamic since 2006. While larger estates like Latour and Palmer collaborate on issues like mildew, smaller producers tend to engage more with one another. Shared biodynamic practices, however, are definitely helping to break down barriers. For example, Château Haut-Bages Libéral maintains regular communication with its neighbours at Château Latour, and the son of Théron at Clos du Jaugueyron interned at Château Palmer for two months. Can we speak of a unity of praxis? Not exactly. There is considerable variation in which aspects of biodynamics winemakers emphasise, regardless of estate size. The primary aim across the board is achieving living soil with rich biodiversity to promote deep-rooted vines. In pursuit of this, some winemakers emphasise tree growing or cover cropping (like Haut-Bages Libéral, which also recently planted a variety of local and fruit trees). Others, such as Le Puy, let nature take its course, allowing a diverse array of plants and flowers to sprout from the earth. Whether certified or not, biodynamic practitioners throughout Bordeaux use homeopathic treatments like nettle teas for the vines – they are believed to stimulate soil health, enhance plant immunity and improve nutrient uptake. More important than any of this, however, is the concept of energy. How can the energy of the plant be retained as its raw material transforms into wine? Every winemaker I visited was at least intrigued by the concept – and most were captivated. After a few days in the sometimes eerily flat Médoc, I drive through the verdant hills of St-Emilion to Le Puy, arriving with a raised spirit. Standing before a 5,000-year-old Celtic cromlech, Harold Langlais, the estate’s director, tells me, ‘Le Puy is a place of energy and life,’ pointing to its deep history as an intersection of water springs. At modern-day Le Puy, this philosophy extends from the vines to the cellar. Indeed, many others I speak to express that, since adopting biodynamics, the most striking change in their wines has been an increase in ‘energy’. It’s a term without a precise definition, but according to Château Palmer’s makers, something shifted with the 2015 vintage, the second year after full conversion. ‘You cannot measure it,’ Thomas Duroux says. ‘You can just feel it.’ At Château Durfort-Vivens, where the vineyard was operating under biodynamic principles by 2013 (with full conversion by 2016), owner Gonzague Lurton recalls the 2014 vintage as ‘the first where you really feel the energy of biodynamics’. It’s tactile and warming, with a sophisticated grip and charm. ‘It’s what I love – the linearity of tannins, never weak from start to finish. With many of the estates I visited, their wines showed an immediate appeal, vibrant even in their youth. Is energy just another way of describing freshness? Laurence Alias at Closerie des Moussis trained as an agricultural engineer; for her, energy and vitality are tied to the physical properties of grapes grown biodynamically. ‘We have more acidity, that’s an analytic fact,’ she tells me, standing in front of a newly acquired plot of vines bordered by forest. It might be romantic to think of energy as something ineffable, but it’s also rooted in what remains within the grapes. ‘Our idea of energy is based more on Einstein than Steiner,’ Langlais later qualifies. ‘Energy is matter.’ Biodynamic winemaking in Bordeaux: five to follow Château Pontet-Canet At the 55ha Pontet-Canet estate in Pauillac, an immensely smooth operation is palpable. Winemakers here have spent almost two decades honing their biodynamic craft, continually moving towards a goal of self-sufficiency for the estate. Sturdy Comtois horses, introduced in 2008, now work half the vineyard, preventing soil compaction. Vineyards are sprayed over a single day using compost and herbal teas produced from plants grown in and around the property and processed in the state-of-the-art infusion room. Biodiversity-boosting fruit trees and hedges have been planted. The estate even employs a carpenter who repurposes wood from vats used on the property. Ageing involves custom-made wooden eggs and qvevri-style amphorae, with no fining and minimal filtration. The result? A Pauillac with untypical levels of energy and minerality, and a plush, velvety texture. But it’s more than that – according to Bessonnet, thanks to a low-intervention approach across the board, ‘you can really feel the soil.’ Château Palmer Thomas Duroux’s conviction in biodynamics is based in what he calls a ‘holistic vision’. ‘We started to see the entire place as a living organism,’ he says of Château Palmer, one of the most storied and historically significant third-growth estates in Bordeaux. When converting (a process that started in 2009), the Margaux estate was initially guided by François Bouchet’s son Matthieu, but now it follows its own evolving philosophy, integrating cover crops, animals for fertilisation and estate-grown vegetables and meat. ‘It’s just going back to agricultural common sense,’ Duroux says. ‘That was the way to grow anything before World War II.’ This respect for nature results in wines that are deeply tied to their terroir. ‘If I had to describe the wines how they are today, compared to how they were before, I’ll just say that it’s not a revolution, but we have the feeling that the wines have a better identity,’ says Duroux. He likens biodynamics to restoring an old painting: ‘Suddenly, you see small details that you were not able to see because of the dust.’ The estate uses stainless-steel vats for fermentation and temperature-controlled rooms for barrel-ageing, combined with nativeyeast and low-sulphur winemaking, to produce its esteemed Alter Ego and Château Palmer cuvées; both have been increasingly celebrated among critics and drinkers since the turn to biodynamics. ‘We just think it does help to go a little bit further in the interpretation of the place,’ says Duroux. Château Durfort-Vivens Standing over a rustic sorting table explaining how it used to work, Gonzague Lurton is visibly passionate about the savoir-faire of the past. This sensibility is reflected in the current winemaking practices, too, and in the second-growth Margaux estate’s reputation (and critics’ scores) increasing year on year. The thing to emphasise is that what began with a biodynamic approach in the vineyards led to a series of domino effects that changed the character of the wines. In search of what Lurton calls greater ‘singularity’, the proportion of Cabernet Sauvignon had already risen to over 90% by 2014 (from around 75%); and with the use of indigenous yeasts during fermentation and the reduction of sulphur levels over time (initially sparked by Demeter’s upper limits of 70mg/l), the wines have become more aromatically complex and expressive. The introduction of amphorae by Italian producer Tava has allowed for microoxidation without overextraction, contributing to a more delicate balance of flavours, with the 2019 estate wine a blend aged one third in amphorae and the rest in barrel. ‘It’s not a big wine,’ says Lurton. ‘And it’s what I was looking for with biodynamics, in terms of style.’ Château des Graviers Christophe Landry’s pioneering status in Margaux stems from an instinct refined over decades at his own estate. He grows medicinal plants — horsetail, absinthe, calendula, chamomile — for vineyard treatments, as well as using the manure from his own cows. ‘What we need to remember is that biodynamics isn’t just a practice,’ he tells me. ‘It’s about finding your own path to self-sufficiency.’ His precision extends to the cellar, where he uses concrete tanks, amphorae and oak barrels (produced according to the biodynamic calendar) tailored to each of the five cépages’ oxygenation needs, then ages the wines for different lengths of time. Timing is everything, with harvest choices also following the biodynamic calendar. Obsessive care for the vines’ life cycles goes hand in hand with the level of precision in the cellar. The outcome is two phenomenal wines that are, as Landry puts it, ‘thirstquenching’. Château des Graviers and Quintessence — which contains a higher proportion of Petit Verdot and is aged longer in barrel and amphorae — are aromatically expressive, velvety and strikingly lively, with the latter offering more depth and an enveloping finish. Expanding to 18ha, Landry has also turned his focus to Clos Dufourg, cultivating vines on previously wild land nearby and hand-building a striking new cellar with cement tanks painted with clay from the surrounding earth. Le Puy For technical director Harold Langlais, the Le Puy estate’s significance lies in how it challenges Bordeaux’s conventional identity. Outside of the region’s traditional focus on appellations and classifications, Le Puy sits on a plateau near St-Emilion. The estate’s land is unusual, with no topsoil but a deep limestone bedrock beneath red-brown clay, which forces the vines to develop deep roots to access the earth’s natural water and nutrients. This is further supported by horse-ploughing and biodynamic sprays made from horsetail, buckthorn and nettles, which grow on the property. ‘Our approach focuses on rooting the vine deep,’ Langlais explains, ‘encouraging it to search out hidden nutrients.’ A vigorous wind circulates around the vines, and Langlais explains the effects of the elements. ‘The beauty of Le Puy is that it’s an acid factory. The whole place creates acidity in the berries.’ The biodynamic philosophy extends to the winemaking, with two different processes applied to their 100% Merlot cuvées. Cuvée Emilien uses a ‘decantation method’, or ‘fermentation by infusion’, while Barthélemy is produced with zero sulphites and a process of lees-stirring called ‘dynamisation’, which is done on fruit days and involves a specific motion to create a vortex in the old barrels it ages in. ‘Barthélemy is much more intense,’ Langlais says. ‘All the matter taken by the plant is in there.’

Written for Club Oenologique in 2025, Joel Hart visits Bordeaux to track the region’s belated embrace of biodynamic winemaking. While other French regions ploughed ahead, Bordeaux had its reasons for delayed adoption. Yet now the practice is booming, and Hart gauges its employment across estates.

Written for Club Oenologique, contributor Joel Hart visits Bordeaux to track the region’s belated embrace of biodynamic winemaking. 

Taking root: the rise of biodynamic winemaking in Bordeaux

After the difficult conditions of 2024, Bordeaux has delivered a vintage that has surprised almost everyone. The 2025 growing season was among the hottest and driest of recent decades, with yields collapsing across much of the region. Yet rather than producing another 2022-style vintage of power and opulence, the wines have emerged with freshness, moderate alcohols and remarkable aromatic precision. Almost every major critic references the same paradox: a year that looked destined to produce massive wines instead yielded bottles of energy, balance and finesse. There is less agreement on where 2025 ultimately sits among Bordeaux's recent great vintages. Some critics compare it to 2016, others to 2019, 2020 or even 1961. What they largely agree on, however, is that the best wines are outstanding – and that this is a vintage where terroir, vineyard management and winemaking decisions matter enormously. William Kelley – Wine Advocate William Kelley sees 2025 as a vintage that reveals rather than conceals. He describes it as a "clarifier" rather than an amplifier, arguing that the wines expose differences in terroir, viticulture and winemaking with unusual transparency. Although the growing season was dominated by heat and drought, Kelley believes the resulting wines are fundamentally different from 2022. Cooler nights, lower alcohols and timely late-season rain produced wines that combine concentration, ripeness and freshness in a way that feels distinctive. He repeatedly returns to the notion that the best 2025s are classically proportioned despite their intensity. Unlike some critics, Kelley is reluctant to identify a single winning appellation. Instead, he sees success as highly estate-specific, with the finest wines distinguished by balance, precision and restraint rather than sheer power. Kelley's highlights: Larcis Ducasse, Jean Faure, Sociando-Mallet, Quinault l'Enclos, Le Pin Beausoleil Explore Kelley's full report, notes and scores on Wine Advocate (subscribers only). Jane Anson – Inside Bordeaux For Jane Anson, 2025 is "the paradox vintage". The best wines are immensely impressive, but she cautions strongly against broad-brush conclusions. Anson places the vintage comfortably ahead of 2017, 2021 and 2024, and broadly alongside 2015 and 2019 in terms of potential. Yet she repeatedly notes that this is not a year where collectors can buy indiscriminately. Low pH levels, high acidity and significant tannic structure mean some wines will require patience, while others may never fully resolve. She sees the strongest performances coming from Bordeaux's great water-regulating terroirs, particularly the limestone and clay soils of Saint-Émilion and the best parts of the Left Bank. Pomerol is more variable, with dramatic differences depending on soil type and water retention. Anson's wine of the vintage is Beauséjour Duffau-Lagarrosse, while Canon, Petrus, Cheval Blanc and Château Margaux all feature prominently among her highest-rated wines. Anson's highlights: Ch. Haut Bailly, Mouton Rothschild, Margaux, Smith Haut Lafitte, Leoville Las Cases, Petrus, Beauséjour, Vieux Château Certan, Lafleur,  Tertre Roteboeuf, Haut-Brion Blanc, Les Champs Libres, Doisy-Daëne,  Aile d'Argent Blanc, Pavillon Blanc Read Jane Anson’s report on the Left Bank, Right Bank and white wine on Inside Bordeaux (subscribers only). Antonio Galloni – Vinous Antonio Galloni is one of the most enthusiastic commentators on the vintage, describing the finest wines as "nothing short of thrilling". What impresses him most is the combination of concentration and freshness. The summer heat delivered tiny berries and naturally low yields, yet many wines finished with surprisingly moderate alcohol levels and striking aromatic lift. Galloni believes modern viticulture played a critical role, allowing producers to navigate extreme conditions more successfully than would have been possible a generation ago. He identifies Margaux as the appellation of the vintage and describes Pauillac as "jam-packed with great wines". Saint-Émilion's clay-limestone plateau also impressed him enormously. Pomerol, meanwhile, is the region he found most inconsistent. Galloni also highlights several lesser-known estates that he believes overperformed in 2025, noting that some of the vintage's most exciting discoveries may come outside Bordeaux's traditional elite. Galloni's highlights: Beau-Séjour Bécot, Canon, La Gaffelière, Troplong Mondot, La Mission Haut-Brion, L'If, Margaux, Lafite Rothschild Explore Antonio Galloni's full report, notes and scores on Vinous (subscribers only). Neal Martin – Vinous Neal Martin describes 2025 as a vintage that constantly defies expectations. He argues that the late-August rain fundamentally changed the trajectory of the year, turning what appeared destined to become another 2022 into something altogether more nuanced. Martin calls it "a dialled-down and more precise 2010", a comparison that appears repeatedly throughout his report. He finds concentration and structure, but also freshness, restraint and remarkable aromatic detail. Like Galloni, he is highly enthusiastic about the Left Bank, particularly Pauillac, Saint-Julien and Saint-Estèphe. He also believes several of the greatest successes come from Saint-Émilion's limestone soils, while Pomerol shows more variation than many neighbouring appellations. Perhaps most notably, Martin sees 2025 as one of the strongest recent vintages for Sauternes, praising the purity and freshness of the best sweet wines. Martin's highlights: Montrose, Haut-Brion, Lafite Rothschild, Lafleur, Petrus, Latour Explore Neal Martin's full report, notes and scores on Vinous (subscribers only). James Suckling James Suckling describes 2025 as one of the most exciting Bordeaux vintages he has encountered in more than forty years of tasting barrel samples. He repeatedly returns to the contrast between expectation and reality. On paper, the growing season suggested another powerful, solar vintage. Instead, he found wines with what he calls "unique purity and tension", combining moderate alcohol, vibrant acidity and impressive concentration. For Suckling, 2025 is above all "a great vintage for great terroir". He argues that the region's finest vineyards adapted brilliantly to the challenges of the year, producing wines that are both intensely expressive and remarkably balanced. Although he acknowledges inconsistency across the region, he believes the best wines can stand alongside Bordeaux's leading modern vintages. Suckling's highlights: Château Margaux, Mouton Rothschild, Lafite Rothschild, Petrus, Le Pin, Ausone, Angélus, Les Carmes Haut-Brion Read part one and two of James Suckling’s report, along with his full notes and scores on JamesSuckling.com (subscribers only). Georgie Hindle – Decanter Georgie Hindle describes 2025 as both "paradoxical" and "miraculous", two words that neatly capture the mood of many critics tasting the vintage. She notes that almost everything about the growing season pointed towards a rich, powerful vintage. Yet the wines themselves display freshness, poise and balance rather than opulence. The crucial turning point, in her view, was the late-August rain that arrived after months of drought and completely reshaped the vintage's trajectory. Hindle argues that terroir and winemaking decisions were decisive. Producers who adapted extraction techniques and handled the naturally high tannin levels carefully were rewarded with wines of precision and elegance. Others were less successful. While she believes the best wines are exceptional, she is clear that 2025 lacks the broad consistency of 2022 and should be approached selectively. Hindle's highlights: Beauséjour, Cheval Blanc, Haut-Bailly, Haut-Brion, Margaux, Mouton Rothschild, Petrus, Vieux Château Certan Explore Georgie Hindle's coverage on Decanter (subscribers only). Jeb Dunnuck Jeb Dunnuck compares 2025 to a modern-day version of 1961, citing tiny yields, drought conditions and extraordinary concentration. Yet unlike the blockbuster vintages often associated with hot years, Dunnuck finds the wines surprisingly fresh and elegant. He repeatedly highlights the role of cooler nights and late-season rainfall in preserving balance and preventing overripeness. He sees Saint-Émilion as one of the stars of the vintage, while also praising the best wines of Pauillac, Saint-Julien and Pomerol. Like several critics, he believes value-conscious collectors should look closely at Castillon and Fronsac, where some producers delivered outstanding quality relative to price. Dunnuck's highlights: Margaux, Haut-Brion, Léoville Las Cases, Montrose, Le Pin, Ducru-Beaucaillou, Mouton Rothschild, Petrus, Figeac, Beauséjour Explore Jeb Dunnuck's full report, notes and scores on JebDunnuck.com (subscribers only). James Lawther MW – Jancis Robinson James Lawther sees 2025 as one of Bordeaux's most pleasant surprises. He notes that despite being one of the hottest vintages of the last thirty years, the wines possess freshness, moderate alcohol levels and considerable charm. The defining feature for Lawther is the combination of power and approachability — wines that have both concentration and an almost unexpected amiability. Cabernet Sauvignon particularly impressed him, especially in Pauillac and Saint-Estèphe, while Saint-Émilion's limestone-rich soils again proved highly resilient in drought conditions. Pomerol was less straightforward, producing some brilliant wines alongside more uneven results. Lawther is also highly positive about Sauternes, which he considers one of the vintage's major success stories. Lawther's highlights: Palmer, Pavie, Suduiraut, Mouton Rothschild, Cheval Blanc Explore James Lawther MW's full reports, notes and scores on JancisRobinson.com (subscribers only). Read James Lawther MW’s report on the Left Bank, Right Bank and white wine on Inside Bordeaux (subscribers only). Explore Bordeaux 2025

As the Bordeaux 2025 campaign draws to a close, we review the critics' verdicts on one of the decade's most intriguing vintages and the wines that emerged as their standout performers.

Your essential crib-sheet to what the world’s leading wine critics are saying about Bordeaux 2025 en primeur–including Wine Advocate, Vinous and more

Bordeaux 2025 en primeur – what the critics are saying 

Bordeaux 2025: what the critics are saying

I. Distractions In 1987, when I was 18 and a dollar was worth more than twice as much as it is today, I started reading magazines: M, Esquire, GQ. Nearby, in our somewhat cultured Texas town, a new bookstore opened in a cavernous space that had formerly housed the shag-carpeted roller skating rink of our childhood. Through the front windows, which had before been darkly tinted to give the place an alluring den-of-prepubescent-iniquity vibe, now streamed bright, clean light, showcasing a look and layout that would become the interior design gestalt of today’s national-chain, big-box book superstore. The rows upon rows of open, dustless shelving bearing a veritable warehouse of volumes; the ceiling hung with its industrial innards on display; the enfilade of check-out cubicles; and the wall – the great wall – that displayed a preposterous-to-behold assortment of glossies, quarterlies, journals, newsweeklies, fanzines, tabloids, almanacs, and all other flora and fauna of magazines arrayed upon a rack perhaps 50 feet long.  I went in there to look for a book. I liked books, and, one day, I was sure I wanted to write one. But I got distracted and bought a magazine instead – that August’s issue of GQ, which still stands out in my mind as a thing of formative significance. At that time, the zeitgeist was defined by a Walkman-wearing version of the American Renaissance Man – the highly-ambitious, status-obsessed, money-motivated, health-nut known as a Yuppie. No magazine positioned itself more authoritatively in defining this new sociological creature’s lifestyle than GQ, and it did it with whiter teeth, snappier suspenders, better accessories, bigger polka dots and more caffeine in the ink of its display copy.  I remember that issue less for the photos by Richard Avedon or Steven Meisel, the words of Martin Amis or Frederick Exley, than for this: Erzeugerabfüllung. It was one of the longest, strangest strings of letters from the Roman alphabet I had ever seen. Neither did it seem designed to come out of someone’s mouth. But there it was in Alan Richman’s Wine & Spirits column, accompanied by a lovely still-life photograph of his topic: two bottles of Riesling Kabinetts on a white, sun-dappled tablecloth. Richman’s main point – made almost 35 years ago – still holds true: estate-bottled, table-quality German wines remain some of the least expensive, most delicious wines in the world, chiefly because – then as now – the labels, as he wrote, “cannot be understood by anyone who is not a part-time oenophile, linguist and cartographer”. One US dollar in Richman’s pocket, as I have already said, bought what roughly two-dollars-and-fifty-cents does today; what he was on the hunt for was a good dry white in a range that would now cost somewhere between 12 and 30 bucks, and he easily accomplished that by finding a dealer in New York City who carried a good selection of wines from the Mosel and Rheingau. At the time, I didn’t know the meaning or significance of any of this, but it staked a claim in my brain. The only wine I had ever tasted was the one served at our Episcopal church during Eucharist on Sundays. The flavour it had was of a strange, super-concentrated jam that somehow warmed your upper body. Even as a young kid, I liked it. But the adjectives these German bottles were squeezing out of Richman – “citrus-like”, “honeyed”, “tart-sweet” – weren’t close to describing what was in that chalice, even if you believed in transubstantiation. Was it because Richman’s wine was white, and the parish’s was red? Perhaps, but both colours of grape juice bottled by Welch’s tasted pretty much the same to me. No, I sensed there was something – a lot – I had to learn, and, along with the romance and beauty of the labels, and the contextual air of well-bred taste and cultural with-it-ness featured on the other pages, this, I feel sure, was the decisive moment, the true origin point, when I came to believe that among the many extraordinary things that make life worth living, not just words but wine reigns at the top.  I warned you about distractions, didn’t I? Because that would be my excuse for now informing you, as a quite apropos footnote, that, yes, there was something unusual about our church’s Communion wine. It was, as I have confirmed with the church, actually port (Taylor’s Tawny, to be more accurate), cut, according to tradition, with water. There is a good and fascinating reason for this. In 1701, when the War of the Spanish Succession kicked off, France also became an enemy of England, and its wines, as a result, were no longer made available for import. The Anglican Church searched for and found a replacement, the fortified wines of its new ally, Portugal, and port continues to be an acceptable option to pair with the Host.  II. Distillations A satisfying story, not unlike a satisfying life, is one that surprises you with the mystery of its unfolding. A thing pulls in a certain direction long enough to reach the proximity of something else which then turns toward a new destination. I had actually gone into that bookstore, as I said, to look at books. But I came out, even though I didn’t yet know it, with a different compass point. Within a few years, shortly after graduating from college, in 1992, I got hired by The New Yorker, where I stayed for almost nine years. I then met my future wife, who wisely laughed at the thought we might be able to survive in New York City on my meagre salary, so I went to Vogue, and soon after became the founding editor of Men’s Vogue. After 23 issues, and four years, the financial crisis laid an axe to many magazines, including that one. Eventually, I took on the editorship of Town & Country. Then, finally, in 2016, I moved up to Esquire, the magazine, as it happens, that didn’t offer me a job when The New Yorker did, and became that storied magazine’s editor in chief, until – well, you best read about that in The New York Times.  As far as distractions go, magazines were a good one. They made me who I am, gave me a tremendously worldly education, honed my taste, introduced me to all manner of accomplished people, required me to build quite a wardrobe, and paid me pretty well to do all of this, often with a glass of wine not far out of the picture. There was really no other way I would have ever got to taste all the bottles I have (a lot of the big names people whisper about from Burgundy and Bordeaux, Champagne and also Piedmont, Tuscany and Napa). I built a modest cave à vin of my own by buying the Smith Haut Lafittes of the world way before hedge-fund hoi polloi ran up the prices, and by having access to rare offerings, like 12 bottles of Fiorano, the legendary white wine Alberico Boncompagni Ludovisi, prince of Venosa, made before ripping out all his vines. I smelled the musty perfume of Margaux in the cellar as I watched the workers rack the wine by candlelight. I lured Jay McInerney away from the Wall Street Journal to become my wine columnist; and I once stood in Bordeaux’s town square, tight on 2002 Pétrus, trying with great focus to commune with the statue of Michel de Montaigne while my French friend, a true oenophile, extolled the majesty of the Big Mac’s special sauce.  As the editor of a magazine, curiosity is your profession, even to the point of distraction. Editors – writers, too – are prone to it. It’s a hazard of the gift, and having a jumble of ideas, if you’re any good, is key to making a magazine of any real intellectual or creative daring. Now as a husband and father of three, working from home and trying to be ‘present’, and a still youngish former editor and occasional micro-influencer trying to stave off the solitude to fathom and plot the next phase of a fruitful future, this skill of mine, the strength of which became even more magnified over two decades, is something of a family project.  The way I most often hear the word ‘distraction’ now, for instance, is when it’s being hurled at me in verb form by my wife or daughters accusing me of being more of a phone-enslaved screen vegetable than they are. (I respectfully disagree.) But it’s a sore point for two reasons. One, what I did as an editor is, in a nutshell, now what a smartphone essentially does. Not very imaginatively, of course, and not with taste or charm or originality, but with a bloody, money-grubbing ruthlessness that stalks every step of our digital peregrinations and doesn’t give a twist if the algorithms that are its brain make us its slave by retrofitting our attention spans for kindergarten.  The smartphone – not the former me or any of my fellow kind still in the media biz – is now the true croupier of culture, dealing out a targeted shuffle of Pavlovian temptations to the point of daily mental exhaustion. And, though this thing is in many ways my personal nemesis, I am, against every fibre of my being, too often its obedient servant. Aiming not to live according to the famous line by T.S. Eliot – “distracted from distraction by distraction” – I recently decided to at least take a serious inventory of my favourite ones, both those of the pre-digital sort (tennis, The Walking Dead, checking the mailbox, my sock collection) and those of the post-digital sort (the any and everything I do because my phone wants me to). Then I caught myself watching tennis on my phone and realised this might be harder than I thought. It’s enough to drive a person to drink, thank god! With that in mind, I like to keep a special something for the occasion around, in this case – what else? – two bottles of Riesling Kabinett, for it had struck me as more than a little weird that I’ve probably tasted fewer than a handful of German wines in my entire life. Part of the reason is that those I had were bad, and, like a lot of other simpletons about this great wine region of the world, I’d come to think of Riesling as a cloying elixir equal parts green Jolly Rancher, apple cider vinegar, and hairspray. This, I knew, was wrong, not true and, in terms of wine equity and inclusion, on the wrong side of history. But, if you happen to live in a place like I do – a bourgie swathe of Connecticut bordering New York City where the shops cater heavily to Cali-Fran-Taly banker’s tastes – it might take you a few stops to find what Richman recommended, an erzeugerabfüllung (estate-bottled) Kabinett (wine made from grapes with a minimum must weight/sugar content) Riesling, and when you do it will probably be coated in a fine sift of years-old dust. I bought a green (Mosel) bottle for US$16 and a brown (Rhine) bottle for US$20, both handsomely labelled. I opened them a few minutes ago and took several investigative swigs. The words bright, invigorating and snappy came to mind. One is indeed sweeter, and, though not my usual jam, it is tamped by a pleasing peachy tartness, and the classic overtone of honey isn’t making my palate feel doused with syrup. The other example is, as Richman said so long ago, a very finely layered creature with mineral clarity and an echo of baked bread, something a gluten-free person like me finds particularly appealing. A rather obvious thought: why haven’t I been buying this instead of throwing a ton of endless money at affordably bad white Burgundy, which is mostly a product aimed at fulfilling a desired outcome, like White Claw hard seltzer? III. Words But don’t let me get distracted, again. A writer really has to be careful about such things. Just think about it. Unlike, say, a painter or musician or actor or photographer, the process of writing requires zero physical exertion, no chance to score an endorphin release while sitting staring anxiously at a blank page. Of the many things in life that vie against the counter intuitive impulse to be glued to a desk, Cyril Connolly, in Enemies of Promise, his classic study of the things that distracted him (and others) from becoming a great writer, names the temptations but does not say much about why they’re so deeply tempting to someone who would otherwise be sitting alone in an empty room. Praise, money, fame, social prominence, affairs and journalism are the most common boltholes, according to Connolly, who, as a famously late sleeper that married three times, might have also added the bliss of unconsciousness and excessive alimony. In 1938, the year the book was published, he would never have imagined how hard the task might get without a cigarette. Smoking is a death wish, I know, but when you want to off yourself for still having a hundred pages to go, being able to snap open a nice lighter, flick some ash, stub a butt and inhale some lungfuls of focus-enhancing nicotine must have been kind of helpful. Connolly also doesn’t have much to say about drink except that artists who drink to excess do so “out of the consciousness of wasted ability”. According to that, the 20th century’s most famous literary alcoholics – Dorothy Parker, Truman Capote, F. Scott Fitzgerald, William Styron, Elizabeth Bishop, James Joyce, Raymond Chandler, William Faulkner – might have left behind even greater treasures than they did. Because Ernest Hemingway did almost everything with more gusto than any of his peers, including running up his bar tab, as a drinker he belongs in his own sentence. He is the novelist who most romanced a good drink or nice bottle of wine as one of life’s great pleasures. Who didn’t want to have a vermouth with Jake when reading The Sun Also Rises? (Don’t, it’s gross, at least if you order it at one of those kiosks in Montmartre where the bottles are hung upside down with spring-loaded dispensers.) Or, track down a bottle of Valdepeñas, Hemingway’s favourite variety of Spanish wine. Or, get a drink at the bar named after him at the Ritz, in Paris, and then go somewhere on the Left Bank to order “a dozen portugaises and a half-carafe of the dry white wine”.  In the early work, he is not boastful about drinking so much as he is the possessor of an unusual appetite for a good buzz. He is also, like Connolly, aware of the need to keep writing separate from drinking, and drinking within his control. It is hard to read the first paragraph of A Moveable Feast, in which he describes an “evilly run café where the drunkards of the quarter crowded together and I kept away from it because of the smell of dirty bodies and the sour smell of drunkenness”, except as a kind of terrifying admonition to himself. It is tragic that he didn’t heed his own advice. Late in his life, Hemingway became fond of rum daiquiris at the Floridita, his favourite bar in Havana, which might explain his taste for a prose style that soon became too often cloying self-parody. In one of the most extraordinary drinking sessions ever committed to words, in the roman à clef Across the River and Into the Trees, a 50-year-old Hemingway, who was smitten with a teenage Italian countess from Venice, fictionalises his infatuation with a last muse. In one stretch (that covers an evening-to-dawn crawl from Harry’s Bar, the grill at the Gritti Palace, a gondola and a hotel room), one half or another of the couple imbibes: one scotch whisky and soda; six Montgomery Martinis (15 parts gin; 1 part vermouth), two of which are described in size as ‘super’; a bottle of Capri Bianco; two bottles of Valpolicella; two bottles of Roederer Brut ’42; and two bottles of Perrier-Jouët. That is, I suppose, one extreme, and, clearly, not one to be tried at home.  The other might have been espoused by Dr. Samuel Johnson, the great critic and lexicographer. As a young man, he’d drained “many a bottle of wine” but loved port especially. (Perhaps Johnson, a devout Anglican who was born in 1709, in the midst of England’s 14-year war with Spain, also first encountered port as a boy at the Communion altar.) He describes himself to friend and biographer James Boswell as having been “apt to go to excess in it”, adding that, “therefore, after having been for some time without it, on account of illness, I thought it better not to return to it”.  Boswell, who worried about his own dependence on alcohol, even keeping a journal of his intake in an attempt to enforce moderation, argued for a third way, which some of the Romantics later adopted. Wine, he claimed, “produces truth; in vino veritas”. Hoping to persuade Johnson of his point, Boswell once convinced the critic to come down off the wagon for just one glass of claret, so Johnson “might judge, not from recollection, which might be dim, but from immediate sensation”. Boswell reports what happened after the glass was emptied: “Johnson shook his head, and said, ‘Poor stuff! No, Sir, claret is the liquor for boys; port, for men,’” adding, “‘A man would be drowned by it before it made him drunk.’”  That actually reminds me of something I think I forgot to mention about Riesling Kabinetts – they’re also highly admired for their low percentage of alcohol. On that note, I think I’ll have another glass.  This article was originally published in FONDATA, Issue Two.

Jay Fielden, former editor of Men’s Vogue, Town & Country and Esquire, recalls how a magazine column on wine, read in a Texas bookstore, shifted his ambitions beyond journalism and set him on the path to becoming a writer of books.

Former Esquire editor-in-chief Jay Fielden reflects on magazines, writing, Riesling Kabinett and the distractions that shaped a life in words and wine.

Jay Fielden on Wine, Words and Distraction

How one became another  

Every now and then, the word ‘singularity’ is used to describe a particular wine that stands apart, for whatever reason, from other wines of its type. But just what is singularity, and how can wine express it? Wine writer Tamlyn Currin investigates.

What makes a wine truly singular? Tamlyn Currin explores the rare bottles that defy convention and challenge the rules of the wine world.

Searching for Singularity in wine

Searching for Singularity

I first sat down with winemaker Chris Phelps almost two years ago, diving into his remarkable journey. Having worked at the likes of Dominus, Caymus and Inglenook, it was chance – or maybe fate – that led him to establish his own wine label, Ad Vivum, in 2007.  He was sitting above a tank of just-fermenting fruit when he was struck by a “coup de foudre” – falling instantly for Sleeping Lady Vineyard, a site farmed by his good friend Larry Bettinelli. He bought the half-fermented must, and has continued to do so every vintage since.  The specific blocks that filled that tank sat up against the Mayacamas at the very top of the vineyard, which is the southernmost site in Yountville. Here, the vines are shielded from the blaze of the afternoon sun, preserving acidity and aromatics in the fruit, while a flow of underground water allows the site to thrive in even the driest of years. Each year, from just 1.5 acres of Cabernet Sauvignon, Phelps crafts another expression of the site.  The exact parcels have shifted very slightly over time. In 2007, the vines were all Clone 191 – the clone he felt was best on the site, but the block needed replanting so they started using fruit from an adjacent plot, planted with Clone 7. After a “carefully thought-out dance” balancing the two plots, the 2024 vintage marks a return to using fruit only from the original plot, now replanted with Clone 191 (and known as Clone 34, which is genetically identical to 191).  Phelps left his day job (working for other wineries) at the end of 2023, finally able to focus exclusively on Ad Vivum, as well as a newer project with his son Josh (Coil Wines). Although we’d tasted the current releases before, earlier this month we were able to taste a trio of back-vintages for the first time. They reinforced how special this site is, as well as Phelps’s talent when it comes to capturing it in bottle.  The three vintages we tasted were 2016, 2017 and 2018 – three very different years in Napa. All three, however, manage to combine great freshness with Napa polish – creating wines that are surprisingly approachable already.  2016 Ad Vivum  In Phelps’s words, 2016 was “a classic Napa vintage”; the weather was warm at the end of June, allowing the vines to focus on fruit ripening, while autumn brought cooler weather. Phelps harvested from 7th October, fermenting in 21% new French oak (the rest in stainless steel), with a total of 19 days on skins prior to maturation for 18 months in 65% new French oak. It has always had “a seamlessness”, Phelps noted, and that’s certainly true tasting the wine.  The nose offers sweet, dark fruit, graphite purity and hints of lifted florals as well as an herbaceous edge. The palate is linear and pure, with mouthwatering acidity and a savoury core of ripe fruit, sweet cassis and ripe tannins that provide a drying grip on the finish. Although the oldest of this mini-vertical, it almost feels the youngest and will certainly benefit from additional time in bottle. A blend of 56% Clone 7 and 44% Clone 191 Cabernet Sauvignon.   2017 Ad Vivum  The 2017 vintage is one that will forever be remembered for its wildfires in Napa, although fortunately Ad Vivum wasn’t impacted by them. After an early budbreak, the growing season was marked by three heatwaves – in mid-June, at the end of August and in mid-September. Having a cooler site, shaded from afternoon sun and with sufficient water reserves was key for Phelps. He harvested from 5th October, bringing in 55% Clone 191 and 45% Clone 7 Cabernet. It was fermented in 25% new French oak, spending 20 days on skins in total (Phelps noted how easily colour and tannin came in this hot vintage), before being aged 17 months in 70% new French oak.  The nose here is bright and perfumed, combining sweet dark fruit – black cherries and blackcurrant – with floral lift and pencil lead. There’s a glorious purity to the fruit here, which follows through onto the dense yet fresh palate, displaying a juicy elegance. There’s a satisfying chew to the tannins, firm yet velvet-like, framing the waves of fruit that flow towards to the long, saline finish. Mouthwatering and moreish, this is hard to resist now.  2018 Ad Vivum  Although the 2018 vintage in Napa started with relatively late budbreak, cooler, even temperatures made for a long growing season, and producing relatively plentiful yields – yet without any dilution, thanks to the extended season. Phelps harvested from 17th October, with the blend moving back towards around two thirds Clone 191 Cabernet from the original block and a third Clone 7. Fermented in 25% new French oak, Phelps left the 2018 on skins for 23 days – slightly longer than other vintages, feeling structured fruit needed more time to reach its potential, echoed with its maturation in 75% new oak for 20 months. Phelps notes how generous this wine has been from the beginning, but has developed further opulence and depth in bottle.  This is a beautiful wine: the nose is intense, exuberant with dark fruit and a satisfying herbaceous edge. Although the blackcurrant and black plum fruit is beautifully ripe and smooth, there’s bright acidity that brings gorgeous freshness – making for a lithe and vibrant palate. The tannins are round and sleek, lending effortless structure, while there’s a saline, savoury edge to the long finish.    Explore all current Ad Vivum listings, including a mixed case of 2016, 2017 and 2018, or read more about California   

Since 2007, Chris Phelps has been working with just 1.5 acres of Cabernet Sauvignon in Sleeping Lady Vineyard in Yountville. The resulting wine is Ad Vivum, a beautiful expression of this special site. We sat down with Phelps to taste through a mini-vertical of the project 

Exploring Chris Phelps’s Ad Vivum Napa Cabernet Sauvignon wine from Yountville’s Sleeping Lady Vineyard through three vintages, 2016, 2017 and 2018 

Tasting Ad Vivum Napa Cabernet Sauvignon – 2016-2018 

Tasting Ad Vivum: 2016-2018  

Group CEO Patrick O’Connor reflects on Bordeaux 2025: a hot, dry and early vintage defined by small yields, precise viticulture, restrained winemaking and a new wave of estates delivering wines of real distinction.

Patrick O’Connor, Group CEO, explores Bordeaux 2025: a hot, dry, early vintage shaped by precision, small yields and standout wines.

Bordeaux 2025 en primeur: vintage overview      

Bordeaux 2025: vintage overview               

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As a result of the quantity requested for delivery, we recommend using Third Party Shipping. If you proceed with our Shipping, you will not be able to define a ship date, and we will get in touch with you to arrange delivery.

Your order request will be cancelled. Are you sure you want to proceed?

Due to the quantity requested for collection, there may be a delay in meeting your requested collection date.

Due to the quantity requested for collection, it is not possible to define a collection date at this stage. Our team will liaise with the warehouse and contact you directly to confirm a suitable pick-up date.

This item has been listed by a collector and is available for storage or immediate delivery

For orders with a high value, we recommend shipping with a third party carrier. Items shipped with third parties will remain in banded OWCs.

Due to the quantity requested, you won’t be able to select a collection date. Please submit your request, and we will liaise with our warehouse and confirm the collection date with you directly.

Due to the quantity requested, you won’t be able to continue the purchase. Please select third party, or change the quantity (maximum 48 is allowed).

Due to the quantity requested, you won’t be able to select a shipping date at checkout. Please submit your request, and we will liaise with our warehouse and confirm the delivery date with you directly.

For up to 499 bottles in storage, the rate is 39¢/bottle per month or a $50 minimum monthly charge (this covers up to 142 bottles). For over 500 bottles, the storage rate is 35¢/bottle per month.

Storage is charged at HKD 40 per 12-bottle case per month. A minimum monthly storage fee of HKD 80 applies, covering up to 24 bottles.

Standard storage rate

By selecting third-party shipping, you will take full responsibility for all aspects of legal compliance and authorize Vinfolio to transfer the items to the party specified in your instructions. Items shipped via third parties will remain in their original packaging.

Collection times are between 8:30am - 12pm & 1:30pm - 4:30pm, Monday to Friday. Wines at Will Call, that are not picked up within 10 business days, will be transferred to storage and subject to a $1.50 per bottle stocking fee.

Items to be sourced and shipped to our state-of-the-art fine wine storage facility for the best possible safe-keeping where you can arrange collection from our warehouse address in Napa.

Will Call (Napa)

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We're in the final stages of upgrading to our brand-new trading platform. As part of this transition, we're currently migrating all customer-owned inventory to ensure a smooth and seamless experience.

Our new and improved platform will be ready for you on Friday, April 4.

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About description for demonstration purposes

shows all the items you currently store with us. These items can be sold, delivered or transferred.

At {shortName}

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Your pre-order item will be deleted. Are you sure you want to continue?

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represents all the wines that are in your possession and have been consumed.

This is the price you paid for this item.

Cost price

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The lowest price you're willing to sell at. If the net price goes below this value your listing will be removed.

shows all the items that you have pre-ordered, including en primeur wines, and all the items on your watchlist.

Futures

You can set a floor price on items you're selling based on a % of current unit net value.

You can set a market price on items you're selling based on a % of current unit net value.

shows all the actions that you have taken on items in your Portfolio.

groups every action by type - Purchase, Sale, Delivery, and Inbound Transfer - so it's clear at a glance what happened to each item.

History

shows all the items that are currently in transit to or from {shortName}.

In transit

Local delivery is free for orders over HK$1,800 (to a single location). For orders below this value, delivery is HK$150 for up to four cases and HK$50 per case thereafter.

Shipping starts from €15 within Italy and €45 to Switzerland and the rest of Europe for up to 48 bottles (75cl). Costs vary by destination. Larger shipments can be quoted on request.

The date shown below is when your order will ship from our local warehouse. Your final delivery date, along with full tracking details, will be provided once our team has processed your request.

You can arrange collection from our Retail store on 22nd Floor, 8 Wyndham Street, Central Hong Kong.
Collection times are between 9:30am-13:00 and 14:00-18:00pm, Monday to Friday. We are closed on public holidays.

You can arranged collection from our warehouse STI INTERNAZIONALE SPA, on Viale del Lavoro, 57, 37051 Bovolone, Verona.
Pick-up hours are between 8:30 AM to 12:30 PM and 1:30 PM to 5:30 PM, Monday to Friday. We are closed on public holidays.

This is the current estimated market value for this item.

Manually set prices will be overwritten. Already listed wines are not affected.

Updates all unlisted wines to current market price.

Set all at market

represents all the wines you currently have in your Portfolio that aren't stored with us. Press the

My cellar

Name

Net price

New portfolio available

New portfolio

You do not have any invoices at this time.

shows all the items from your Portfolio that are currently on the market.

On sale

shows all the items you currently have in your Portfolio. You can perform individual actions on them from this page.

Overview

shows any items that are currently awaiting user action.

Pending

This is the dynamic market price of the item with trading margin removed.

This is the amount of profit you will receive if your listing sells.

Pre-authorised payments enable automatic transactions on your behalf, ensuring seamless and hassle-free payments. This allows recurring charges, subscriptions, or scheduled payments to be processed without manual approval each time.

The number of cases you wish to place on sale

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Your catalogue items will be archived. Are you sure you want to continue?

Before you request delivery, you can adjust the quantity for each item in your selection below.

*Market price is dynamic and may change. At time of sale a 10% trading fee will be deducted from the final sale price.

Total market price*

The fixed custom price you wish to sell each item for.

Split into {caseSize} individual {bottleSize}cl bottles.

Title

shows all the items you currently store with us. These items can be sold.

Available for sale — items stored with {name} eligible to be listed on the marketplace.

Profile

This item is at FINE+RARE, available for storage, transfer or delivery.
 Most UK deliveries can be made within 3-5 working days, with next day delivery for London;
 an exact date will be available when arranging delivery.
 International deliveries have longer lead-times, please contact us for details.

This item is at FINE+RARE HOME Hong Kong, available for delivery or local pickup. Most Hong Kong deliveries can be made within 3 working days, an exact date will be available when arranging delivery. International deliveries have longer lead-times, please contact us for details.

Wines sold en primeur will be released from the producer after bottling, typically 18 months after the so-called campaign ends. Your wine will then be stored by FINE+RARE in a bonded warehouse until you decide to take delivery.

We will source this item at the guaranteed price from our network of suppliers and arrange expedited shipment to FINE+RARE.
 The lead-time depends on many variables, but 2-4 weeks is typical for expedited sourcing.
 Once your order is confirmed, we'll keep you updated on its ETA.
 Every item is checked on arrival by our expert team, with photographs available on request (please note that charges may apply).

We will source this item at the guaranteed price from our network of suppliers and arrange shipment to FINE+RARE.
 The lead-time depends on many variables, but 6-12 weeks is an average estimate.
 Once your order is confirmed, we'll keep you updated on its ETA.
 Every item is checked on arrival by our expert team, with photographs available on request (please note that charges may apply).

Hundred Acre Vineyard

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