Bordeaux’s white wines don’t often make it into the limelight and Ch. Margaux is one of the few top estates – beyond the borders of Graves and Pessac-Léognan – to make a white that is as highly rated, and collected, as its red.  Last year, lovers of its famous Pavillon Blanc were rewarded with the news of an addition to the First Growth’s range: a second white wine, known as Pavillon Blanc Second Vin.  From the 2004 vintage, the team became increasingly selective with the fruit that made it into Pavillon Blanc, and from 2008 only a third or maximum half of the Sauvignon Blanc they harvest was being bottled. The team started occasionally bottling a barrel or two of a possible second wine, with the final result often poured for the harvest team. They rapidly realised, however, that the quality was good enough to deserve much more than internal consumption.  The wine is a true second selection and therefore sees exactly the same winemaking and attention as Pavillon Blanc proper. Pure Sauvignon Blanc, it spends around nine months in barrel, with circa 25% new wood, and half the barrels larger demi-muids, and some bâtonnage at the start of the wine’s maturation. One of the most important stages is the pressing, which is done extremely gently, stopping as soon as the pH rises by 0.10, and meaning they only manage to get around 50cl of juice per kilo of grapes.  While the first release came from the smallest white vintage on record for the property (2022), the new release – set for Thursday 16th January – comes from the 2023 vintage, the highest yield on record since 1988 (although still an extremely modest 37hl/ha at Ch. Margaux).  We covered the conditions of 2023 extensively in our report on the year, but – as with 2023 in Burgundy – there was a heatwave as the harvest arrived. The team at Ch. Margaux stops picking as soon as the mercury hits 32°C – meaning that the pickers would start work as soon as it was light enough, but have to stop as early as 10.30am on some days. With the hot weather, the sugar levels started to creep up rapidly; but the Sauvignon Blanc was all picked between 23rd and 30th August – early enough to retain plenty of freshness.  More approachable than its big sibling Pavillon Blanc, Pavillon Blanc Second Vin is nevertheless a wine with serious ageing capacity – and one that offers a taste of the property’s masterful expression of Sauvignon Blanc at a very appealing price. It’s a stunning wine – a unique expression of Bordeaux Blanc from this top estate – and one that we can’t recommend highly enough. 2023 Pavillon Blanc Second Vin  The nose is beautifully expressive, with fresh pear, chalk, lime juice and grapefruit pith. On the palate, the wine is long and taut – yet with a waxy texture that might lead you to believe there’s some Semillon in the blend. This is pure Sauvignon Blanc, however – pure and vibrant, green-fruited yet not at all green. Forget cat’s pea and any grassy, herbaceous tones: this is a wine about tension and freshness, with hints of jasmine and honeysuckle. It’s vibrant and bright, with a satisfying bitterness to the long, mouth-watering finish. Already stunning now, this will only get better in bottle – with everything in place to allow it to evolve for 10-15 years. Sensational.  With 13% alcohol and a pH of 3.15, the wine was matured in around 25% new oak. Around 10,000 bottles were produced (versus just 8,000 in 2022).   The 2023 vintage of Pavillon Blanc Second Vin was released on Thursday 16th January 2025 and is available now

Last year saw Ch. Margaux launch the first vintage of a new wine in the First Growth’s line-up: Pavillon Blanc Second Vin. Ahead of the second release, here’s everything you need to know about the wine 

Everything you need to know about the second wine to Pavillon Blanc, Bordeaux First Growth Ch. Margaux’s new white wine, made for the first time in 2022 

Ch. Margaux’s Pavillon Blanc Second Vin 

The new release of Pavillon Blanc Second Vin

“We’re just sort of making it up as we go along,” Andy Erickson says to me on our transatlantic Zoom call, shrugging and smiling as we talk about his and his wife’s project, Favia. It’s not necessarily what you’d expect this star consultant winemaker to say – having helped craft the likes of Screaming Eagle, Harlan, Dalla Valle, Staglin, Mayacamas and more. It’s hard to believe that anything this man does is a fluke of fate. And yet this self-effacing tone is a thread that runs throughout my conversation with Erickson and his wife Annie Favia.  Favia brings her own, similarly enviable resume, having worked at Kongsgaard, Corison and for many years alongside cult viticulturist David Abreu, giving her unparalleled experience of Napa’s finest vineyards. She and Erickson met at a dinner party almost 30 years ago, instantly hit it off, and within six months were making their first barrel of wine together, tucked in the corner of their garage. That first experimental barrel of 1996 Russian River Pinot Noir (of which they still have a few bottles) was the start of something that grew as they and their family did, and the Favia label was born in 2001, although it was a couple of years before there was more than a barrel or two to sell.   The concept behind the brand is simple: “It’s our expression of what we think Napa Valley wine should be,” explains Erickson. But Favia has also been a project where they could experiment, push the envelope and play with the “pioneering freedom” (in Erickson’s words) that Napa offers. The flexibility to purchase grapes from different areas, pick and choose varietals, and work with no constraints in the winery is something they clearly savour.  The project focuses on Cabernet Sauvignon and Cabernet Franc – the latter in particular a grape they both love. Inspired by the likes of Ausone, Cheval Blanc, the reds of the Loire and Dalla Valle’s Maya (a wine that Erickson now makes), they were keen to play with the varietal, crafting two Cabernet Franc blends – Cerro Sur and La Magdalena. As Annie Favia explains, “[Cabernet Franc] allows you to make one kind of wine if you pick it at one time, and then a completely different wine if you pick it at another time.”  More than anything, however, Favia is about expressing a sense of place and connection to the land. “When I was growing up, my mom was an avid gardener and I spent a lot of time with her in the garden,” says Annie. “So it's always been really kind of home to me.” It’s unsurprising perhaps that their Coombsville property is far from just a vineyard and winery, but a homestead of sorts. “We really love to grow all kinds of things,” Annie says eagerly. While vines are the main crop, Annie also farms a range of other plants – largely for her loose-leaf tea company, ERDA, but also fruit and vegetables for the family table. “Growing different crops allows you to look at grapevines in a different way,” she explains.   For the Favia label, they work exclusively with fruit from Oakville and Coombsville, and while Oakville is arguably one of the most prestigious appellations in Napa, Coombsville is less well known. Fruit from the AVA has often been blended away into regional wines, but with its volcanic soils and proximity to the San Pablo Bay bringing cooling influences, they love its concentrated power, naturally fresh acidity and savoury quality, and more forward-focused tannins versus the broader profile of Oakville.   Although Erickson is increasingly focused on Favia, he still consults for a handful of carefully selected estates – something he can’t see giving up. “It’s a great outlet,” he tells me, explaining how different it is to channel a client’s vision for a project, versus craft your own wine exactly the way you want. Much like the various crops they farm, it’s another way for them to learn, experiment and develop. And yet, “Presenting something that you’ve made to people and getting a response…” Erickson says. “I love that part of what we do.”  Two decades after Favia was born, they’ve received significant investment from the Huneeus family (which owns Quintessa), along with a new 86-acre property in Oakville, where they’ll soon be starting work on a new winery, taking the project to the next level. “We’re going to be doing exactly what we’ve done for 20-plus years, but now have an even bigger farm and more fruit trees and more gardens and more wine to share with people. And it’s just really fun,” says Annie, the excitement clear in her expression. They’ll be bringing back Sauvignon Blanc, which they’ve made in the past, and are making their first wine with a tiny plot of Malbec they planted – a variety they’re considering with climate change.  On paper, Favia and Erickson are a formidable duo – with CVs that offer a roll-call of Napa icons – and yet they are entirely unassuming. Their absolute passion for the vine, for farming, the region and their craft shines through; and while they might be as down-to-earth as they come, it’s already clear that Favia is destined to reach great heights.  The latest releases of Favia are available now 

Annie Favia and Andy Erickson are Napa royalty. As the 2021 vintage of their personal project, Favia, is released via La Place, we caught up with the couple about their label, estate and vision for the region

Exploring the wines of Favia, Annie Favia and Andy Erickson’s Napa project, and how it’s growing after two decades

Annie Favia and Andy Erickson’s Favia 

Growing up: Favia

The air is cool and crisp, with the radiant blue skies that only late winter can provide. On the crest of the hill in front of me, a troupe is studiously pruning Ch. Lafite Rothschild’s oldest Cabernet Sauvignon vines, their roots sinking deep into the precious gravel soils that define the First Growth’s wines. Looking over a junior member of the team’s shoulder is Luís Pinto, making sure that no mistakes are being made as they shape the vines for the future, laying the groundwork for not just 2024, but the vintages beyond that. Sporting navy-blue Domaines Barons de Rothschild overalls (vintage, sadly out of production and unavailable for purchase – I asked), Pinto has been working at the estate for over 30 years, and now leads one of the vineyard teams. As you might guess given his name, his family is Portuguese, although he was born and raised in Bordeaux. In fact, his mother even worked the harvest at Lafite, and Pinto has pictures of himself as a child at the on-site nursery the château then had for workers’ offspring – perhaps sewing the first seeds of his future profession. As Louis Caillard, Vineyard Manager at Ch. Lafite Rothschild and Ch. Duhart-Milon, explains, Pinto isn’t an anomaly. Caillard heads up the 80-strong team which works across both properties (and are managed identically when it comes to the vines). The vast majority of this team are extremely local, coming from within a 20-kilometre radius of the château, and once they join the team, few ever leave. Much has changed over Pinto’s many years working these vines – offering an on-the-ground view of viticultural trends. He remembers a time when they would rip out hedges and trees to make room for vines, focused more on yield, now coming full-circle to reinstate the biodiversity that existed before. Today there’s more appreciation of the craft and calling of a vigneron, or vine-grower – a return to traditional vineyard management.  Looking at pruning, for example, Pinto explains how there are no set rules: “Each person prunes a vine as they wish,” he tells me. They respond to each vine, its needs, looking at the sap flow and thinking about its long-term future, rather than just the next season. It’s very Simonit&Sirch in approach – although Pinto is bemused by such a suggestion; for him, it’s how he learnt to understand vines. “All it is, effectively, is that we think,” says Caillard. “It’s always existed; it’s just that we had forgotten it a little.” The challenge is teaching this sort of instinctive approach to managing a vineyard. “I don’t follow a recipe anymore,” says Pinto. It’s not just knowledge he is trying to pass on to his team, but “a way of thinking”, he says, one that inevitably comes from experience, from making mistakes and learning from them. There’s a drastic difference between studying the theory from a book, and standing in front of a vine, secateurs in hand. Of course, the idea of making mistakes when the wine commands the reputation (and price) that Lafite does might seem daunting – but it’s this that sets top addresses apart. Lafite’s scrupulous approach to quality, declassifying any fruit that doesn’t meet its very high standards, is a luxury that not all producers can afford. For Pinto, it’s this dedication to quality and long-term view that has kept him at Lafite all these years. There are plenty of properties that will rip vines out once they reach a certain age, all in the name for better crop loads, but at Lafite, the philosophy is to see “how far we can take the vine”, nurturing parcels into old age. His work might be cyclic, following the vine’s yearly progression, but there are changes every year – an effort to constantly evolve and improve. This, perhaps, is what – for me – is most interesting about Lafite. It’s not just the finesse and elegance of its pinpoint Grand Vin that sets this estate apart, but the way in which it has quietly been changing the way Bordeaux works, pushing forward in its pursuit of excellence. For over a decade, they’ve had Manuela Brando leading their Research & Development; talking to her is fascinating, with trials on everything from biodynamics, rootstocks and treatments to umbrella-like covers as an alternative way to combat mildew. If successful, these trials are transferred to the wider vineyard – with training that means the team never stops learning. Just the other day, Pinto tells me, they had a session on agroforestry – something that he’s clearly fascinated by. Pinto seems relaxed, joking lightly with us, but is also quietly serious when it comes to his work, knowing that every decision they make in the vineyard is critical to the quality of the wine that eventually emerges from the cellar. “Every decision has an impact,” echoes Caillard – “and, in fact, nothing is simple.” Difficult it might be, but Pinto is pleased with the progression he has seen over the years. “You can feel the terroir a bit more again,” he says. The shift to organic, re-introduction of hedgerows and trees to the vineyard, which in turn has brought an array of fauna – butterflies and ladybirds, for example, has transformed the property. As an apiarist, he’s acutely aware of the wildflowers that now blossom and abundant bees they attract. At the end of the day, however, there’s no wizardry, he suggests, to what they do – it’s simple: “We respect the vines a bit more.” With the gloss of an estate like Lafite, a First Growth whose reputation is so immense, it’s easy to forget the work that happens behind the scenes. But, as Caillard knows all too well, “You cannot achieve anything technical without the people; people are key to everything we do.” People like Pinto, so clearly at one with their calling, the place and vines, are what make truly great wine – separating the excellent and exceptional. As our conversation draws to a close, Pinto returns back to his team, his stocky frame receding down the row of vines and weathered face turned once more to the bright sunshine, as deeply rooted in this terroir as the Cabernet Sauvignon that surrounds him. Browse all current listings of Ch. Lafite Rothschild, or read more about Bordeaux

As we continue to take you behind the scenes at Bordeaux’s top addresses, our latest feature shines a light on Ch. Lafite Rothschild. We caught up with one of its vineyard team, a vigneron who has dedicated over 30 years of his life to the First Growth’s vines

Taking you behind the scenes at Ch. Lafite Rothschild to talk to one of the Bordeaux First Growth’s vineyard workers

The call of the vine – Ch. Lafite Rothschild

The call of the vine: Ch. Lafite Rothschild

Until I joined Vinfolio, the US arm of our business, I hadn’t heard of Ch. Belle-Brise. But I rapidly fell in love with this little-known, yet much-loved Pomerol property. Our retrospective was to be held at three-star Michelin SingleThread in Healdsburg (Sonoma County, California), and examine 23 vintages of Belle-Brise, from 2020 all the way back to 1993. As proprietor Henri-Bruno de Coincy unfortunately couldn’t make it to our event, I was tasked with hosting on his behalf, and gave him a call to learn more about what he feels are the most important details to share about his property. (My degree in French, which was instrumental in my becoming a sommelier, proved to be quite useful. While M de Coincy speaks four languages, English is not one of them.) During our conversation, I confirmed the embarrassment of riches as far as what sets Belle Brise apart from its illustrious neighbours. Located in the southwestern corner of the already diminutive Pomerol appellation, Belle-Brise consists of only two hectares (around five acres) of vines. Planted to 80% Merlot and 20% Cabernet Franc, the vines average 70 years in age, with some 110 years old. The vines are farmed biodynamically, using horses to complete the necessary labour in the vineyard. While the subsoils have a mix of clay and sand, they also possess the famous crasse de fer – the iron-rich sand that is said to impart the aroma of truffles, a facet which only reveals itself as the wine ages. M de Coincy refers to Belle-Brise as his “jardin” (indeed, while the family spends much of their time in Armagnac, the house at the heart of the vineyard is very much their second home) and takes great pride in the fact that everything can be harvested by hand in a single day. 
Wine has been made at Belle-Brise since the 18th century, but the property did not see its first commercial release until 1991, after M de Coincy acquired the estate, with the wine sold only to family and friends before that date. If you are familiar with your Bordeaux vintages, you will know that 1991, ’92, and ’93 were all extremely difficult harvests. While not the auspicious start he may have hoped for, it did offer an opportunity to explore the vineyard and learn how to best care for it. Today the winemaking is identical from year to year, with the vintage – and site – speaking loudest. The wines are fermented in concrete before being placed in a third new, a third second-use and a third third-use 400-litre barrels, the traditional size used for Armagnac, rather than the more conventional 225-litre Bordeaux barrique. The Coincy family has been making Armagnac for 32 generations and over 700 years, so the exact size is not arbitrary, but the decision to use larger barrels is also deliberate – reducing the impact of the wood on the final wine. While the story of the château and the history of the De Coincys are both compelling, I must return to what is most important to keep in mind when tasting Belle-Brise: elegance and finesse. Serving Pomerol with kaiseki-influenced Japanese cuisine (as at SingleThread) may not be the obvious choice, however the delicacy of the wines ensured that the harmony of the dishes was kept intact, leading to many unexpected moments of delight. Unsurprisingly, exceptional vintages were beautifully cohesive and balanced, however, it was the less well-respected vintages (2011, 2004, 2002, 2018 and 2008, among others) that truly showed how attention to detail and care can surmount challenges that nature may present. While we were not able to taste every vintage of Belle-Brise (with the tiny volumes produced, the family simply doesn’t have stocks of everything), this retrospective tasting was one of the largest ever presented. The favourite vintage among guests on the night was 2011, a vintage which also came up in my conversation with M de Coincy, as it has been chosen as the “desert island” of wine professionals and aficionados many times before. The most interesting flight for me came later in the meal, with the 2004, ’03, and ’02 grouped together. These vintages all presented different challenges during the growing season. The 2002 saw extreme rain in many parts of France, with heavy downpours affecting flowering and fruit set. The 2003 saw a summer with extreme heat, which taught many lessons that were applied in 2022. Lastly, the 2004 had a larger harvest on the whole, but the vintage is often forgotten, left in 2005’s long shadow. In the glass, however, the 2002 was pure and bright, with the 2003 showing its suntan but still refined, and the 2004 had a concentration and depth that was remarkable (especially as the wines were all around two decades old).  Regardless of vintage, elegance and finesse were constant throughout the entire evening, reminding me of a concept I learned in one of my French philosophy classes at university. If my memory serves me correctly, Michel de Montaigne proposed in his Essais the concept of a “forme maîtrise” or master form when referring to the evolution of a person as they age, and as something that cannot be easily defined in simple terms. While I am now much different than I was at age five, 15, 25, etc, there is still a governing sense of self (or possibly a single thread) that connects the person writing this to the child I once was. As we continued to taste through the vintages of Belle Brise, this forme maîtrise kept asserting itself, via the performance of the wine in the glass, reminding me of the “garden” where these wines were made. As many of the variables seen at other châteaux (differing blends, oak regimes, etc) remain constant at Belle-Brise year after year, one can focus on the vintage and its effect on the wine in the glass. This results in a singular experience, when one can truly feel the sense of place that only certain wines can offer. Tasting Ch. Belle-Brise: 1993-2020 vertical 2020 Ch. Belle-Brise: The 2020 Belle-Brise has an opulent nose with ripe fruit – plums – and violet. It’s already very approachable now, with remarkably fine rounded tannins. Plush. 2019 Ch. Belle-Brise: The nose is packed with ripe raspberry fruit and vanilla cream, currently more open than the 2020, with lovely sweet spice too. The tannins are slightly firmer with bright acidity – this is generous but focused. Very impressive. 2018 Ch. Belle-Brise: From a hot vintage, this is a very concentrated Belle-Brise with blackberry and black plum. Brooding, powerful and structured, the 2018 shows a very dark fruit profile, and needs a little more time to integrate fully and show its best – but this will be a wine for the ages. 2017 Ch. Belle-Brise: Packed with red fruit, this is open and expressive, fragrant and floral. The palate is tighter and more linear in style versus the warmer vintages that preceded it; the wine precise and delicate. 2016 Ch. Belle-Brise: This is a bold and age-worthy Belle-Brise. The nose is ripe, layered with dried fruit, prune and hints of dark chocolate. The wine is big and dense, with ripe tannins, and will benefit from more time in bottle. This is built to go the distance. 2015 Ch. Belle-Brise: The 2015 offers a nose of sweet, ripe fruit. It’s plush and mouth-filling, yet retains amazing elegance and great freshness. There’s beautiful balance, with very fine tannins that frame the fruit. 2014 Ch. Belle-Brise: This is just starting to reveal some maturity, with cedar, hints of truffle and tobacco alongside the plum fruit. It’s an earlier-drinking vintage versus the 2015, for example, but has lovely restraint and is showing beautifully right now. 2012 Ch. Belle-Brise: This may have been a tricky year, however the 2012 Belle-Brise shines – with bright fruit and violet florals on the inviting nose. The palate is delicate, supple and charming – a very pleasing wine packed with appeal. 2011 Ch. Belle-Brise: Another less lauded year, the 2011 is not as powerful as warmer vintages, but is still an hallmark Pomerol from this estate. It’s layered with plums and spice, the wine rounded, smooth and welcoming in style, 2010 Ch. Belle-Brise: The 2010 is a concentrated, powerful and muscular Belle-Brise that is destined for the long-haul. The palate is mouth-filling and tightly packed at this still comparatively youthful stage, even 13 years on, with dense berry fruit. 2009 Ch. Belle-Brise: This bottle wasn’t showing flawlessly – the tannins prominent and fruit not as concentrated as in other bottles we’ve tasted, although it still showed toasty, coffee complexity on the nose. 2008 Ch. Belle-Brise: This is beautifully expressive, with notes of mint, violet and plum on the nose. It’s fragrant with herbal lift, while the palate is vibrant, fresh and nervy. A joy from this less famous vintage. 2007 Ch. Belle-Brise: This may not be a top year, but Belle-Brise produced a lovely wine that is beautiful at the moment. The nose is evolved with earthy tones, truffle, cedar and tobacco. Ready to go, this is open and elegant, with lovely resolution on the palate. 2006 Ch. Belle-Brise: This is absolutely textbook Pomerol from Belle-Brise in 2006. The nose is lovely, with opulent fruit, while the palate is smooth and velvety, the tannins gorgeously polymerized. It’s still fruit-forward but really delicious. A delightful wine. 2005 Ch. Belle-Brise: This top-rated vintage offers a brooding, dark-fruited nose, with notes of chocolate, earth and truffle. The palate is dense and powerful, with chalky, rich tannins that cloak the layers of damson, cigar box and mushroom. 2004 Ch. Belle-Brise: The 2004 shows remarkable concentration and depth. The wine is mature, showing an evolved nose of cedar, tobacco and forest floor, while the palate is almost fully tertiary, but with ethereal dried fruit. Fantastic. 2003 Ch. Belle-Brise: Although this shows the warmth of the year, with baked fruit, it’s still refined, with resolved tannins. Unlikely to evolve further, so worth drinking up. 2002 Ch. Belle-Brise: This is showing beautifully – pure and bright, with aromas of dried flowers, dried cranberry and prune alongside lifted spice notes – cardamom and clove. On the palate, it’s elegant, with fruit still driving through to the refined finish. Haunting. 2000 Ch. Belle-Brise: This is full of ripe plum fruit, damson and vanilla with a sweet earthiness. It’s still amazingly fresh and tasting impressively young. It’s got a great backbone and plenty of life in it yet, but delicious now. 1999 Ch. Belle-Brise: Notes of forest floor, earth and dried leaves dominate the nose, accompanied by more delicate potpourri aromas. This is a beautifully delicate, fine-boned wine with a long, lingering finish.  1995 Ch. Belle-Brise: The 1995 is still surprisingly fragrant – with dried cranberry and redcurrant fruit alongside dried herbs, cedar and sandalwood aromas. It is alluring and enticing on the nose, leading to a seamless, lifted palate. 1994 Ch. Belle-Brise: The nose of the 1994 combines expressive dried orange peel with richer prune and raisin fruit, as well as savoury, earthy notes. On the palate, this offers richer fruitcake tones – with currants and spice, and impressive depth. 1993 Ch. Belle-Brise: This 30-year-old Claret is remarkable. It was only Henri-Bruno’s third vintage, and it is evolved but very much alive. The nose combines forest floor and more herbal tones, while the palate is silky, supple and perfumed. An amazing result from a rather challenging year. Explore all current listings of Ch. Belle-Brise or discover more about our experiences.

Earlier this month, we hosted a dinner celebrating Ch. Belle-Brise, exploring this Pomerol estate via 23 vintages back to 1993. Here, Scott Turnbull MS – Director of Private Clients at our US arm, Vinfolio – considers the event and the golden thread that connects each vintage of this special wine

Master Sommelier Scott Turnbull dives into what defines Ch. Belle-Brise, the special Pomerol estate, via a rare vertical tasting of vintages back to 1993

Ch. Belle-Brise – the walled garden of Pomerol

Ch. Belle-Brise: discovering the walled garden of Pomerol

South Africa is one of the most exciting wine-producing nations right now. A new generation – led by the likes of Eben Sadie, the Mullineux, Chris Alheit and many more – has put the Cape firmly on the fine wine agenda. Its pinpoint Chenin Blanc, serious Syrah and laidback winemakers have made it the darling of the industry – yet this modish group of surfer-cum-winemakers seems a world away from the sweet wines of Constantia.  “Constantia Wyn” was South Africa’s original vinous export – savoured by the good and great of the 18th and 19th centuries. Bismarck, Frederick the Great, Louis XVI and George Washington are all noted to have enjoyed it, while Napoleon had vast volumes shipped to him in exile on St Helena (drinking up to a bottle a day) – and it was supposedly the only thing he wished to consume on his deathbed. The wine is mentioned by Dickens, Dumas and Baudelaire, with Jane Austen’s Mrs Jennings in Sense and Sensibility famously recommending it for “its healing powers on a disappointed heart”.  How, then, did such a legendary wine fall from grace? Economic downturn in the second half of the 19th century, followed by the arrival of mildew and phylloxera in the Cape, and the subsequent dominance of the KWV – the state-run cooperative – saw it vanish.  But in 1985, the Klein Constantia property was bought by Duggie Jooste. He replanted the vineyards, built a new winery and worked on overhauling the long-neglected estate. In 1986 he and winemaker Ross Gower produced the first vintage of Vin de Constance – their tribute to “Constantia Wyn” – released in 1990. It was made with Muscat de Frontignan (a particularly thick-skinned clone of Muscat) left to raisin on the vine, producing a luscious sweet wine, with no botrytis influence. It was an instant success – but quality and style was inconsistent, and Vin de Constance was just one wine in the range, rather than a focus.   It was only in 2012 that Klein Constantia embarked on a new chapter. The property had been for sale for a while and, as Vice Chairman Hans Astrom told me, it was “a bit dusty” and severely in need of attention. It changed hands in 2011, with Zdenek Bakala – an American-Czech billionaire – and British banker Charles Harman taking over, merging a year later with the Stellenbosch estate Anwilka, part-owned by Duggie Jooste’s son Lowell Jooste, Hubert de Boüard (of Ch. Angélus) and Bruno Prats (previously of Cos d’Estournel). Matthew Day – who had worked at the property since 2008 – took over as winemaker. While the estate still produces a full range of whites and reds, Vin de Constance is its flagship.  Now, a decade on, the importance of this shift is shining through. Being a “legacy winery” used to be “what got us in the door”, Day explains, but Klein Constantia is no longer trading on its past. The wines made between 1986 and 2012 were experimental, Day notes – with bottlings ranging significantly in sweetness (from 80 to 180g/l residual sugar) – but they were “vital in figuring out where we are going”. His favourites from that era are the 1987, 1991, 1995, 1996 and 2001 (“with 1991 and 1987 being at the top of that list”), but he’s more excited about the wines he’s producing today. “The older Vin de Constances are more in the style of being sweet wines, whereas the newer vintages are just wines,” adds Day.   Since 2012, they have gradually evolved the style, striving for balance and freshness, with increased precision. For Day, the aim is to make “a sweet wine that doesn’t taste sweet”.  The first shifts were in the vineyard, which since the mid-2000s has been farmed sustainably with some organic and biodynamic practices. The team planted more bush vines that ripen and raisin earlier in the season, therefore retaining more acidity. While they used to pick parcels from January to have high-acid components for blending, now – with the bush vines – they can pick a more uniformly ripe crop, yet not sacrifice acidity.  The end goal remains to have as many components as possible for blending, with the harvest team picking in passes and bringing between one and five kilograms of grapes in per day. While the wine used to vary in alcohol and sugar level, they now aim for around 165g/l residual sugar and 14% alcohol – where they think the best balance is found, varying slightly according to vintage.   The 2016 vintage was the first to be made in a new cellar – a practical and hygienic space. As for what actually happens in the cellar, the key changes have been around skin contact and élevage. The must now spends a week on skins, inoculated with a non-saccharomyces yeast to protect them from biological contamination and the development of volatile acidity, extracting all-important flavour compounds, but not phenolics. They then inoculate for alcoholic fermentation, which lasts between one and three months. They also started re-introducing the use of foudre for ageing the wines in 2016. From 2019, the wine will spend its first 1.5 years in new 500-litre barrels (encouraging the evolution of secondary flavours), before being transferred to older foudre for another 1.5 years (giving oak influence but without the ageing effect of micro-oxygenation).   Tasting the 2012 alongside the 2019 highlights the differences. The two vintages were similarly cool, both picked in April, and although the residual sugar is almost identical, the 2019 feels significantly fresher – with a pithy, textured freshness that offsets its sweetness.   This whimsical wine of yore might feel like a counter to the nation’s new wave, but it’s not so, says Day. “For me, Klein Constantia has always been at the forefront of the movement, but in a completely different way. We might not be as trendy as some of the newer producers, but we like to think the work we have done with Vin de Constance over the past decade has shown the world that South Africa has the potential to compete with the best of the best in the world.”   Browse all current listings from Klein Constantia or browse more Editorial

Loved by Dickens, Austen and Napoleon, the sweet wines of Constantia were legendary in the 18th and 19th century. But Klein Constantia – the estate revived in the 1980s – is done with looking back. Sophie Thorpe caught up with winemaker Matthew Day to find out what lies ahead 

Klein Constantia’s winemaker Matthew Day on the evolution of Vin de Constance, South Africa’s most iconic and historic sweet wine

A new era for Klein Constantia’s Vin de Constance

A constant evolution: Vin de Constance

South America’s finest Argentina and Chile have rapidly become hotspots for fine wine. Offering high-altitude sites with glorious sunshine, and varied soils, it’s no surprise that some of Bordeaux’s top estates have ventured into the two nations. Cheval Blanc's Argentinian collaboration with Terrazas de los Andes, Cheval des Andes, is unsurprisingly impressive. The estate works with high-altitude sites to produce a Malbec-based blend. The 2018 that is set to be released this year has already been rated highly by James Suckling (98 points), who wrote, “This will be a great wine indeed.” First Growth Ch. Mouton Rothschild works with Concha y Toro in Chile’s Maipo Valley to produce Almaviva – a wine that has, in Suckling’s words, become “a benchmark for the reds of the Andes”. He awarded 97 points to the 2019 and describes it as “extremely perfumed… vertical and integrated”. Bodega Catena Zapata – one of Mendoza’s leading names – will release the 2018 vintage of its top wines, Nicolás Catena Zapata and Adrianna Vineyard Mundus Bacillus Terrae. The latter is a Malbec from a 1.4-hectare plot which sits at almost 5,000 feet, while Nicolás Catena Zapata is the estate’s flagship wine – and Argentina’s first “Grand Vin”, made with the finest fruit from ungrafted vines on the family’s high-altitude sites. Both have earned high praise with the Wine Advocate’s Luis Gutiérrez describing the 2018 as “among the finest vintages for the Mundus Bacillus Terrae” (98 points). The Chadwick family – who own Errázuriz – will also release the 2019 vintages of their top cuvées, Seña and Viñedo Chadwick. Made by Francisco Baettig, these are incredible wines – earning 98 and 99 points from James Suckling, respectively. Last but not least is Clos Apalta, the Chilean estate that produces the finest expression of Carménère in the world. The 2018 is another excellent release, with 98 points from James Suckling. Super Tuscan stars The 2018 vintage in Tuscany was stunning – producing wines of elegance and freshness. While some of the Super Tuscans have already been released, a handful will be available via La Place this month. Masseto – the cult Ornellaia breakout star, described as the “Pétrus of Italy” – and the third vintage of its second wine, Massetino, will be released. Produced in tiny volumes, these extraordinary expressions of Merlot will be in unsurprisingly high demand. Solaia – Tignanello’s sibling from the Antinori stable – is set to be similarly popular, as ever. Giving it 98 points, Antonio Galloni of Vinous wrote, “I can't remember ever tasting a young Solaia with this much sheer appeal and balance in the early going.” The month will also see the latest releases from Bibi Graetz. The artist-turned-winemaker works with old vines and indigenous varieties to produce elegant expressions of Chianti. The 2019 Colore received 99 points from James Suckling who described it as “old-vine magic”, finding the 2019 Testamatta serious and structured (97 points). Cult California September sees a flurry of the Golden State’s most illustrious names hit the market. Opus One – the joint venture between Mondavi and Ch. Mouton Rothschild – is consistently in demand, and no more so for the 2018, with 98 points from Wine Advocate’s Lisa Perrotti-Brown MW and 99 points from Suckling. Having tasted it ourselves – we can vouch for the elegance of the vintage. It’s also worth paying attention to the new release of Overture (also based in the 2018 vintage), which is undoubtedly the best to date. Keep an eye out for the top-scoring 2018s from Vérité (100 points for La Muse, 98 points for La Joie and 97+ for Le Désir from Wine Advocate); the latest release of Joseph Phelps’ Insignia, the original Napa Valley proprietary red (2018 – with 97+ points from Wine Advocate); the 2019s from L’Aventure – the Pasa Robles estate run by Bordelais expat Stephan Asseo; and the 2017 vintage of Dominus (97+ points from Wine Advocate) – the cult wine from Christian Moueix of Pétrus. The new vintage from Maya Dalla Valle – who trained at Pétrus, Latour, Masseto and more, and is now heading up the family estate, Dalla Valle – is guaranteed to fly. The 2018 Maya has already got a smattering of top scores, with 100 points from Wine Advocate’s Lisa Perrotti-Brown MW, who wrote, “As cerebral as it is downright hedonic, this Maya is simply jaw-dropping.” This year will also see the latest vintage of Beaulieu Vineyard’s Georges de Latour Private Reserve – Napa’s first cult wine, and only its second release via La Place. The 2018 has 98 points from both Vinous and Suckling, with Antonio Galloni describing it as “sensational”. Ex-château classics The September Series isn’t limited to the New World – with a handful of estates in Bordeaux and the Rhône joining in, including the annual release of a ready-to-drink vintage of Ch. Latour, after the First Growth left the en primeur system. This year sees a star-studded vintage, 2005, emerge from the cellars. A vintage that needs little introduction, this wine has unsurprisingly high scores; tasting it earlier this year, Antonio Galloni gave it a perfect 100 points, describing it as “life affirming”. Ch. Palmer will also release 2011; while a less illustrious vintage, Robert Parker described it as the wine of the vintage in Margaux. Cheval Blanc, meanwhile, will release the 2019 vintage of Le Petit Cheval Blanc, the property’s highly desirable white. While normally Ch. d’Yquem would also release a vintage of their sweet wine, they are holding back the 2019, so this year sees only the 2020 vintage of Y d’Yquem (the estate’s dry white) released. Looking across to the Rhône, Ch. de Beaucastel will release the 2019 vintage of their Hommage à Jacques Perrin. This cuvée comes from ancient Mourvèdre vines and is made in tiny volumes. Alistair Cooper MW of jancisrobinson.com describes it as “a powerful thoroughbred”. Top wines from further afield A handful of wines from South Africa and Australia have also made their way onto La Place. The 2018 vintage of Klein Constantia’s Vin de Constance – the iconic sweet wine with a long and fabled history – will be released this year, perhaps a comfort to sweet wine fans who won’t be getting their fix with Yquem. Only scored so far by James Suckling (98-99 points), he rightly acknowledges it as a “unique wine”. Two names from Down Under get their second release via La Place this year. The 2017 vintage of Jim Barry’s The Armagh Shiraz – a Clare Valley legend – will be joined by 2018 Wynns John Riddoch Cabernet Sauvignon, a standard-bearer for Coonawarra. New this year This year sees several new names join the September Series. First up is Peter Michael Winery: founded by Sir Peter Michael CBE in the 1980s, this estate has been championing single-site, elegant wines from its corner of the Knights Valley, on the border of Napa and Sonoma, ever since. The 2018 vintage of the property’s Cabernet blends Les Pavots (from a single plot on the original Knights Valley estate, 97 points from Jeb Dunnuck) and Au Paradis (from a site in Oakville, purchased in 2009, 98 points from Jeb Dunnuck). While Robert Parker has spent much of his time rating wine, he also invested in a property in Oregon with his brother-in-law Michael Etzel. The result is Beaux Frères, now part of the Henriot stable, in Ribbon Vale, which produces world-class Pinot Noir. The 2019 vintage of the two top cuvées – from the Beaux Frères Vineyard and Upper Terrace Vineyard – will hit La Place this year. For the first time, Australia’s most famous estate, Penfolds, will release one of its wines, Bin 169 Coonawarra Cabernet Sauvignon. A classic expression of this grape on the region’s terra rossa soils, the 2018 is described as “impressive” by Suckling (97 points). Recently announced is the first vintage of Yjar – a new ultra-premium Rioja from Telmo Rodríguez. It’s described as an “outstanding first bottling” (James Suckling, 97 points) and “a wine that transcends the vintage” (Luis Gutiérrez from Wine Advocate, 96 points). Learn more about La Place de Bordeaux and the September Releases or read more Editorial

September sees the latest vintages from some of the world’s top estates released via La Place de Bordeaux. Ahead of the 2021 releases, we run through the vintages and properties that you’ll want on your radar

Exploring the top 2021 wines released by some of the world’s top estates via La Place de Bordeaux.

Top 2021 estate releases via La Place de Bordeaux

September Series: the 2021 edition unpacked

It’s often noted that Burgundians know nothing about Bordeaux and its wines – and vice versa. This is an exaggeration, though it retains a nugget of truth. These two great French wine regions are poles apart culturally. This is not a novel observation. Indeed, Jean-Robert Pitte, a professor at the Sorbonne, wrote an entire book, Bordeaux Bourgogne: Histoire d’une rivalité (2016), on this very theme. Just a couple of examples. In Bordeaux you will encounter people with names such as Basile, Vanessa, Diana or Jennifer – that would be inconceivable in Burgundy. This may be to do with the fact that Aquitaine was English-owned for centuries, or it may be that some Bordelais believe that an English name confers a certain cachet. At celebrations organized by the Chevaliers du Tastevin at Clos de Vougeot, and just about anywhere where Burgundy’s wines are praised and consumed, the ban bourguignon is an unavoidable part of the proceedings. It entails raising both arms in the air and twisting them in time to a raucous ditty with the words ‘Lala, lala, lalalala layla, lala, lala, la, la, la’. Can you imagine such a thing at Haut-Brion? Another striking difference is that Burgundy excludes, while Bordeaux includes, at least in terms of embracing those it considers helpful to its promotion, such as merchants, auctioneers and journalists. I have visited Burgundy and its growers every year for over three decades and can count on the fingers of two hands the number of times I have been invited to stay for lunch, let alone dinner. Without fail, a 10.30am appointment will come to an end at noon, and the visitor will be politely shown the door. Hungry after a morning of tastings? That’s your problem, monsieur. I used to find this irksome but soon came to understand that for the Burgundian, noon is the time when family members return to the homestead from pruning or tractoring or delivering bottles. It’s the sacred lunch hour, and outsiders have no place. You can taste from every barrel in the cellar, but that hospitality doesn’t extend to the dining room. It’s the exact opposite in Bordeaux, where it’s assumed that a visitor with a late-morning appointment will stay for lunch. Indeed, when researching one of my books in Saint-Emilion, I was amazed to find that my programme, organised with enthusiasm by the local syndicat, included lunch and dinner every day, weekends included. The Bordeaux proprietor will usually use the occasion not just to offer a fine meal, but to open some older vintages for the delectation of the visitor. The Burgundian really couldn’t care less. On one occasion, a grower with whom I spent a morning to research a profile for a magazine, had suggested, when I made the appointment, that I might like to stay for lunch. With pleasure, I responded, hoping that a mature Richebourg might be brought up from the cellar for my appreciation. But sur place, when I had completed my interview, it was clear that the owner had completely forgotten his offer. (However, after an embarrassing few minutes all around, his wife did rustle up a rather good meal.) Born to be hospitable Burgundy’s wine culture is about the nuances of terroir; Bordeaux is about selling wine that’s produced in far larger quantities than from patchwork Burgundy, and all those who can serve that purpose are corralled into a network of hospitality. A lunch will always take the same form. Coats and bags are deposited in the hallway of the château and one is led into a salon, where a small table supports a bottle of Champagne (often Pol Roger, sometimes Bollinger) and some glasses.  In comes the butler or maid (often on hire from the local traiteur, or caterer) with a plate of gougères or roundels of toast with foie gras to stimulate the appetite. Then the host rises to his (and occasionally her) feet and leads the way into the dining room. Lunch is invariably a butler-service event, so guests must calculate how much meat or veg to convey onto one’s plate without either appearing greedy or depriving others of their fair share. The dishes are always replenished, however, so seconds are in order. No need to panic. If the aim is to impress, it usually succeeds. In contrast, the Burgundians en fête are after a good time. Other than the rather forced jollity of the Chevaliers du Tastevin dinners, usually accompanied by indifferent wines, the highlight of the Burgundian wine calendar is the Paulée de Meursault (other paulées are available, but all agree that Meursault does it best). This is in effect a giant bottle party. Each producer, who may be accompanied by family or guests, will bring a basket stacked with a few bottles or magnums of a venerable or prized vintage. These will be poured and later circulated in the course of a five-hour lunch. Those lucky enough to attend can often taste spectacular rarities. This is not the Bordeaux way. At a formal dinner, for example during the en primeur tastings or Vinexpo, invited merchants or journalists will find themselves at a large round table in the company of two or three château owners or winemakers. They will have brought bottles – often very fine bottles – that will, in due course, be delivered to your table. There’s a certain amount of swapping with other tables to provide more variety, and certain journalists, towards the end of the evening, will be seen roving the room in search of wines to try on distant tables. (I plead guilty.) Here again, the aim is to impress. Brigades of waiters and waitresses, quite often students from a local catering college, will swoop in from the kitchen with such efficiency that a few hundred guests can be served almost simultaneously. Moreover, the food will usually be excellent, provided by one of the many highly professional traiteurs who flourish in Bordeaux. Access is the name of the game. The privileged guest, sipping Champagne or Sauternes during the prolonged apéritif hour before a grand Bordeaux dinner, will be in the company of dozens of château owners. Reach out a hand, even to someone you’ve never seen before but vaguely recognize, and it will instantly be shaken: ‘Bonsoir, monsieur.’ Everyone present is within the magic circle. You have been appointed, like it or not, as an ambassador for Bordeaux. Over 20 years ago I was present, along with 400 other guests, at the Fête des Vendanges, a great feast organized each year before the harvest by a leading château. I could see from the menu that 1985 Haut-Brion was to be the final wine of the evening, but what I hadn’t anticipated was that it was to be served in magnums only. Moreover, on a very warm evening each magnum had been lightly chilled before serving to ensure that it would retain
its freshness and digestibility in the glass. Other blandishments include guests of honour who are often prima donnas or celebrated actresses. Who wouldn’t want to be around when, as once happened, Gina Lollobrigida was escorted between the tables by the château owner? These feats of generosity, glamour and service are to be observed at all such events in Bordeaux. If you’re lucky enough to be present, it’s hard not to experience a wave of self-satisfaction. This warm embrace of the wine trade is not extended to mere consumers, of course. Although châteaux are more open to visitors than they were in the past, most wine tourists making their way up the roads that connect Margaux to Saint-Julien and Pauillac are confronted by closed gates or notices that read ‘by appointment only’. Some 25 years ago a delegation of Bordeaux worthies came to London to ask friendly journalists (over a good lunch, of course) what they could do improve the image of their region. ‘Try opening your gates,’ was my suggestion, and it did not go down particularly well. Fees, factotums and fixers Oeno-tourism has been slow to come to Bordeaux. Showcase châteaux such as Pavie, Smith Haut Lafitte or Lynch-Bages have become adept at offering tours and tastings, though at a price. A fee is understandable, as the cost of staffing the tours and the wines to be poured needs to be recouped. Napa does it differently. Visitors are courted, and the customary tasting fee will be refunded if you buy a bottle or two. In Australia, the ‘cellar door’ is always open for visitors to enjoy the wines and other merchandising. However, in Bordeaux, most prestigious châteaux make little effort to welcome visitors.  In Burgundy, top growers sell to a band of importers and perhaps a few private customers and restaurants. In Bordeaux, châteaux sell to négociants, who distribute their wines worldwide. Châteaux have no direct influence over who sells or buys their wines. That’s why it’s important to have influential writers and critics on their side. A high score from a wine guru may just persuade a group of merchants or consumers to buy Château X in preference to Château Y. And the other way around the following year. No wonder top châteaux treat the media with affection and respect. Consultants, too, form part of the hype machine. They are rarely present in Burgundy, where savoir-faire is passed down (not always successfully) from one generation to the next. But in regions such as Tuscany or Bordeaux, where estate owners are often rich and enthusiastic but short on expertise, the consultant is an essential member of the team. Nothing wrong with hiring good advice, of course. But choosing the right consultant also adds lustre to the estate. In Italy, take on Carlo Ferrini or Riccardo Cotarella and you can be certain, at the very least, of media attention. In Bordeaux, the consultant is more than an adviser on viticulture or vinification, suggesting how high your canopy should be or which coopers are best suited to your style of wine. They have influence too. Michel Rolland, notoriously, had the ear of Robert Parker for many years. This was perfectly understandable because, broadly speaking, they liked the same style of wine. I once asked a château owner with a group of properties why he had chosen a particular consultant rather than another of similar renown. ‘He’s good at what he does,’ was the reply, ‘but he also has a track record of getting his clients’ wines onto airline lists.’ Many of the older generation of consultants were invisible. In decades of visits to Bordeaux, I never encountered Jacques Boissenot, who advised most of the top estates of the Médoc, or Gilles Pauquet in Saint-Emilion. Others, such as Stéphane Derenoncourt, court importers and the press assiduously, with regular tastings that provide a showcase for all their clients. Wine writers like, for sound reasons, to be on close terms with consultants such as Derenoncourt, as they can be invaluable sources of information. Save time and score it? Admission to the magic circle of Bordeaux carries its own risks. I doubt there is much corruption as such – no wine writer of any importance would, I assume, be foolish enough to accept backhanders in exchange for favourable ratings – but what has happened is that independent assessment has been almost abandoned. And there are stories of bribes, often in the form of a few cases of wine, being offered. Newly minted bloggers would be particularly susceptible to a helping hand. Back in the 1980s or even 1990s revered critics such as Robert Parker would not hesitate to give a poor score to a wine he considered below standard. These days a poor score has become close to inconceivable. A score below 90 has become the equivalent of a smack in the face. In an article some years ago I predicted the scores that the major critics would give the 2014 vintage when, a few months later, the wines became available for tasting En Primeur.  My educated guesses, made without tasting a single wine, were alarmingly accurate. That, simply put, is because critics now score the brand and not the wine. No one is going to rate a first growth or scarce Pomerol at below 96; likewise, no obscure fifth growth or Côte de Bordeaux red, however fine, will ever be scored at 93 or higher. Bordeaux has succeeded in imposing its own self-valuations on its critics. Price has become equated with quality, as has been the case since the 18th century. This is why new owners of certain properties relentlessly push up their prices, because this is the best way to confer prestige on the wines. For Bordeaux as a whole, it may be a costly business organizing lavish dinners with superlative vintages, but it has paid off in establishing a group of wines as safely within the band of the world’s most appreciated and sought-after. For the wine critic, it’s a tricky balance. Without access, an article or vintage assessment becomes impossible. I am not immune. To research my own publications on Bordeaux, I have accepted offers to stay at comfortable châteaux for extended periods. I do my best not to let my judgment be swayed by this quid pro quo (which I disclose), but one can never be certain. Schmooze or you lose? It’s not only the wine press that is courted and pampered. Top châteaux will lay on lavish feasts for négociants and brokers too. Corinne Mentzelopoulos of Château Margaux once described such events as a way of thanking the Bordeaux wine trade for their success in selling her wines (not an arduous task, I would have thought). She intimated that it was also a way of keeping the trade on her side. Selling top claret in a great vintage is a doddle (except when grotesquely overpriced); selling the same label in a mediocre year such as 2013 is another matter. Maintaining brand loyalty – to Brand Bordeaux and individual châteaux – is crucial. By 2020 the region was having to face the threat of USA tariffs, the cold shoulder from China, the uncertainties of Brexit for the important British market, not to mention the growing climatic vagaries bringing drought, frost and hail in their wake.  Other challenges are stylistic rather than economic. A colleague who is involved in assessing the wine lists of top restaurants worldwide notes that there are a growing number of such lists that ostentatiously scorn Bordeaux in favour of, usually, ‘natural’ or other styles considered trendy. This is sommelier-driven, and Bordeaux producers and merchants are not always aware of how old-fashioned and stuffy their offerings appear to sommeliers (and their clients) in search of novelty rather than reliability. It’s hard for individual châteaux to promote their wines worldwide since they don’t know precisely who is buying their superb wines. In contrast, their Napa Valley equivalents stage auctions and other events targeted very precisely at super-rich clients and social media. Australia has its highly regarded agricultural shows, awarding medals that confer more prestige than most medals from wine competitions.  Bordeaux doesn’t have such marketing opportunities at its disposal, which is why generic marketing campaigns, prestigious tasting events, and the assiduous wooing of the media are such necessary tools. Whether they will continue to be effective as they have been in the past is undoubtedly open to question. On Bordeaux: Tales of the Unexpected from the World’s Greatest Wine Region – an anthology of writing on Bordeaux with a foreword by Jane Anson – is published by Académie du Vin Library and available now.  Explore more Editorial 

Bordeaux and Burgundy couldn’t be much more different. In this extract from Académie du Vin Library’s new publication On Bordeaux, Stephen Brook considers how the two regions market themselves – asking whether wooing the world’s press is enough to keep Bordeaux in pole position

Stephen Brook considers how the Bordeaux and Burgundy wine regions market themselves 

Bordeaux, Burgundy wines and building the hype

Bordeaux, Burgundy and building the hype

“Turbot,” Hugh Johnson says, the sense of satisfaction-to-come oozing down the phoneline. It’s a Friday morning and like any dedicated oenophile he’s already planned dinner, and – most importantly – what he’ll be drinking. I expected white Burgundy, something majestic drawn from a cavernous cellar, but Johnson – arguably the world’s most famous wine writer – is not nearly that traditional, or predictable. A Cambridge degree, a flawless RP accent, an air of good tailoring and tweed, and 60 years in the wine trade might lead you to think otherwise. But, throughout our conversation – even with a Covid-safe telephone call in lieu of a face-to-face – there’s an undeniable sense that there is forever a twinkle of mischief in his eye, and that Johnson is a man who enjoys being ever so slightly provocative. On the aforementioned Friday night, he was planning to uncork a bottle of Kit’s Coty Bacchus – “Giving it a good chance to show,” he says. Chapel Down’s single-vineyard bottling of England’s trademark grape comes from a chalky site on the North Downs, a spot that Hugh thinks is “a Grand Cru of the future”. He’s currently particularly excited about the prospects for England’s wine production – “Not just because I’m a patriotic citizen,” he reassures me.  “I’m passionate about the new school of English winemaking… wonderful characters and flavours are emerging from the south of England.” Gusbourne’s 2018 Pinot Noir “blew [his] socks off” and he’s keenly following low-dosage experiments such as Dermot Sugrue’s #ZODO. He wonders if perhaps the line of chalk between the North and South Downs could in fact be the Côte d’Or or Champagne of the future. It was an oft-quoted encounter with two Burgundies at university that set a young Johnson on the path to wine writing. I love the image of his university room-mate stumbling in a little too merrily, sloshing fine wine over the floor and Hugh’s undoubtedly immaculate notes, insisting that the serious and studious character sampled the two glasses in his unsteady hands. “One was magic and one was ordinary,” Hugh has said of the incident: he was instantly hooked. Cambridge’s Wine and Food Society laid the groundwork for his education, and he penned his first wine column for Vogue in 1960 – recommending a rather ambitious line-up that included 1955 Cheval Blanc and 1960 Ch. Margaux. There was a stint at House & Garden, then he took over from André Simon as editor of Wine & Food, joined The Sunday Times and started turning out a series of smash-hit books, starting with The World Atlas of Wine in 1971. His annual Pocket Wine Book – the world’s best-selling wine guide – has been solid stocking fodder for 44 years. The Story of Wine – first published in 1989, and a reprint of which is the cause for our conversation – is my personal favourite. It’s a book that captures exactly why I love wine: it literally seeps through our history, a liquid that links nations, cultures and generations. And Johnson’s passion for the topic drips off the page; writing that’s as intoxicating as the substance it describes. The oeuvre feels like it hasn’t aged a day since its initial publication, expertly tracing our ties to the vine and its fruit “from Noah to now”.   The copy I was gifted aged 21 is a hefty thing – an impractical hardback of coffee-table only proportions that precludes it being devoured the way it should be. I was delighted, therefore, to discover the latest edition is much more comfortably lap-sized – as Hugh describes it, “friendlier”. It’s a book that begs for an afternoon in the armchair. But it’s a book he never set out to write, and one that fell out of a foray onto the small screen. Much of the research was undertaken by a young history graduate Helen Bettinson, for a series aired the same year on Channel 4. “I learnt so much about history generally, never mind the wine part,” Hugh says. And that’s part of the joy of The Story of Wine – it’s not really a wine book; it’s just a great book, that happens to be about wine.  “When I started, there was very little knowledge around,” Hugh explains. “I saw my job as stirring up interest, encouraging people to enjoy wine in a very general kind of way.” The tricky thing, over the years, he says – has been avoiding the tendency to get closer to the subject, to focus on ever more detail – “sometimes a really boring amount of detail,” he chuckles. His heart sinks, he tells me, when someone asks him what the percentage of X grape is in a wine – “I’m not interested in percentages, yet the world is,” he laments. “To be frank, I sometimes think that journalists get into the nitty gritty because they have nothing better to say.” He’s a man tired of the state of wine writing (“glossy magazines full of incredibly boring photographs of vineyards”), and especially with winemaker profiles (“It’s pretty hard to engage the average consumer in the story of an Italian farmer: there are millions of them”). We should be, he feels, “getting the point of a wine” – but, most importantly, not the points. Johnson has long riled against scores. “My real beef against it is that it gives the impression that there’s something absolute going on,” Johnson says. He understands that for consumers it’s a short-cut (“you don’t have to read all the blurb”), but he’s fought long and hard to try and wean them off their numbers dependency. How something as varied and glorious as wine, something so dependent on “mood and moment” could be captured by mathematics – for Johnson – beggars belief. “The whole notion of a 100-point wine is unimaginable to me – how could it not be better?” For Johnson, a fine wine is a wine worth talking about – and that sums up rather neatly why scores are, for him, so offensive. As he says in the preface to the new edition of The Story of Wine, “If [wines] lack the power of speech they can still tell stories.” He’s sold 20 million books (and counting) filled with their stories, and his. But what’s next for the veteran wine writer? Well, proofs for his next gardening tome – the latest anthology of Trad’s Diary – are sitting on his desk awaiting attention. Then, of course, there’s that turbot – and a bottle of Bacchus hoping to tell its tale. The latest edition of The Story of Wine is available to purchase from Académie du Vin Library.  Read more Editorial

Since he started writing about wine in the 1960s, Hugh Johnson has sold 20 million books. As a new edition of The Story of Wine is published by Académie du Vin Library, Sophie Thorpe talks to the best-selling author about a lifetime spent telling – and selling – the stories behind every bottle

The best-selling author Hugh Johnson on a lifetime spent telling – and selling – the stories behind every bottle.

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