Bordeaux is changing. The Left Bank, in particular, has long been a region of labels – of grandiose estates, polished winemakers and the bottles they produce – the vineyards a backdrop to their impressive châteaux and new state-of-the-art wineries. Of course, vineyards have mattered, as much as they’re the source of their grapes, but they’ve rarely been the focus for conversations with trade or consumers. But now, perhaps influenced by the meteoric rise of Burgundy – and an approach to wine echoed around the world, terroir is stepping into the spotlight. Behind the scenes, the Bordelais may always have been looking underfoot, but now they are talking about it too.  Nowhere is this more true than at Ch. Montrose – a property that announced a significant change when releasing its 2023 vintage. The property has always made some of Bordeaux’s finest wines, but over the past 15 years (under the Bouygues’ ownership) quality at this Saint-Estèphe estate has reached new heights. Long known for its austere age-worthiness, there’s now a modern polish that softens its stern style – without sacrificing its classicism and longevity. Each vintage seems to reveal a new level of precision and finesse. From 2023, Montrose announced that its Grand Vin would only come from Terrace 4 (T4). If that doesn’t mean much to you, I’m not surprised.  The Médoc and Graves’s six gravel terraces were uncovered by Pierre Becheler in a series of studies in the 1980s and ’90s. Each terrace dates from a different period and has its own distinct soils, with Terrace 1 (T1) the oldest and Terrace 6 (T6) the youngest – and argued to be a defining factor in the Left Bank’s terroir. T3 and T4 are widely regarded as the best for wine-growing, and Becheler found that, at the time of their classification in 1855, over 80% of the Classed Growths sat on these two distinct geological strata.  In the last decade, these gravel mounds have become a key part of Bordeaux’s story, explaining the estates’ terroir. Despite widespread understanding that the terraces are integral to the quality of wine, there still isn’t a comprehensive map of the Left Bank’s terroir – showing which vineyards sit on which soils (the best are those created by Jane Anson and Kees van Leeuwen for Anson’s book Inside Bordeaux). Most studies have been undertaken by individual estates, as at Montrose – who engaged Becheler himself to uncover the specifics of their site.  It's remarkable that, without knowing anything about the region’s subsoils, Montrose was so fortuitously placed – although it has of course survived thanks to its prestigious site. The property’s first vines were planted – all on the fabled T4 – in 1815, by Etienne Théodore Dumoulin, who had purchased the land from Nicolas Alexandre de Ségur (of Calon Ségur). The land had been covered in heather, its pink blossom covering the gentle slope come autumn, and sailors passing along the Gironde estuary used to call it the pink hill – or “mont rose”, giving the property its name.  It was only 40 years after the first vines went in the ground that the estate earned its place as a Second Growth in the 1855 Classification. By 1861, when Dumoulin passed away, the estate comprised 95 hectares – but its borders have shifted over the years. It was later purchased by an Alsace factory owner, Mathieu Dolfus, who invested heavily in the property. He was a visionary – offering free healthcare, profit sharing and accommodation on the estate for his workers. He even used a wind turbine to flood the vineyards, staving off the impact of phylloxera as long as he could.  Montrose was managed by the Charmolüe family between 1896 and 2006, with Jean-Louis – who ran the estate from 1960 – key in building its modern reputation. It was under him, in the 1970s, that vines were planted on lower-lying land close to the estuary, which sits on T5. These humid, sandy parcels are now used for La Dame de Montrose, the château’s second wine.  It was in 2006 that brothers Olivier and Martin Bouygues (of the eponymous telecoms company) acquired the property. In 2010 they bought an additional 22 hectares from Phélan Ségur, land which had historically been part of Montrose. These vineyards, wooded on either side, sit on the sandier T3, but importantly also brought the total vineyard area back to 95 hectares – as under Dumoulin – and all sitting in one block (something which is relatively rare in Bordeaux).  The Bouygues brothers hired Vincent Decup as the estate’s Technical Director in 2014. Decup instantly set about getting to grips with the estate and its soils. When he arrived, they had a map detailing 16 different soil types across the vineyards – but he soon commissioned further studies, uncovering an additional 10 soil types. This gave them, Decup tells me, “the possibility to explore and separate” parcels, diving into the detail of the site with a Burgundian, rather than Bordelais, vision. From 2017, the team started delineating the parcels – vinifying plots in 93 separate tanks (over twice the 40 that had been used just three years prior), adapting the winemaking to each. Looking at the Cabernet Sauvignon on T3 and T4, he explains how they gained a “new level of precision and comprehension of Cabernet on each terrace”.  “The Cabernet Sauvignon of Montrose naturally gets lots of power,” Decup tells me. “We have to be careful with the extraction.” Especially for fruit from T3, he explains, it can easily become overly austere. T4 has always represented the majority of the blend for the Grand Vin at Montrose – and in Decup’s mind it is not just the property’s historic DNA, but what gives the wine its identity. He tells me how there is something magical about the way Cabernet ripens on these parcels, developing technical (sugar), aromatic and phenolic ripeness all at once. It produces wine that is “powerful, voluminous, demonstrative – a lion in a cage”.  In 2022, the same year that Charlotte Bouygues took over as President and Pierre Graffeuille became CEO, the team started focusing more on T4, and from 2023 the Grand Vin comes exclusively from this prized terrace. Coming from the Delon estates, Graffeuille knew the potential of these soils, shared by Léoville Las Cases. The 2022 vintage was pivotal – earning four potential 100-point scores, with four firm 100-point scores in bottle – and the 2023 followed in its footsteps, with three potential perfect scores to its name.  The gravel terraces rise and fall through the region. T4 surfaces in Saint-Estèphe, running under Meyney and Montrose, disappearing until the southern edge of Pauillac, reappearing around Latour, then running through much of Saint-Julien (including the three Léovilles – Las Cases, Barton and Poyferré – and Ducru-Beaucaillou), rising again throughout Margaux and then again under Haut-Brion and La Mission Haut-Brion, with small pockets further south.  The defining factor of T4 is an iron pan beneath its sandy gravels. The sandy gravel topsoil allows young vines to develop roots easily, before they hit the compact iron layer – forcing the vines to spread horizontally rather than vertically. That compact layer is cool and retains water, feeding the vines in hot years. Decup explains how in July the topsoil might be hot, but if you dig down you can feel the chill of the iron layer – something that is perfect for Cabernet Sauvignon. At Montrose, T4 sits between 12 and 16 metres’ altitude, while elsewhere it reaches a maximum 22 metres. T4 tends to run close to the Gironde, which provides a moderating influence – especially so at Montrose, where the estuary is 4.5km wide (notably protecting the estate from frosts, such as in the brutal 1991 season – a year when Montrose produced the wine of the vintage).  As with T4, T3 runs beneath many Classed Growths – notably Cos d’Estournel, Mouton and Lafite. With sandier gravel topsoil, the key difference is that T3 doesn’t have the iron pan of T4 – the topsoil instead sitting directly on clay-limestone subsoil. Slightly higher in altitude (15-18 metres at Montrose, but generally 20-26 across the Médoc), the soils are very deep and the vines’ roots drive straight down, up to three metres or so at Montrose, Decup tells me. With less clay in the topsoil, the soils are particularly free-draining, and the vines reach down in search of water. “In terms of expression, it is not the same at all,” says Decup. He explains that while it also produces bold Cabernet Sauvignon, it’s got particular energy and length, an austerity – but “positive austerity”. Vines on T3 particularly thrive in hot, dry years, he tells me.  Montrose has an impressive 45 hectares of vines on T4, 12 on T3, a swathe on what the team describes as an “intermediate soil” – somewhere between the two terraces, and a small portion on T5. So what now of the property’s vines on T3? While the château isn’t openly confirming it, a separate bottling of T3 is set to be released – likely hitting the market in 2026, if rumours are to be believed. The rest of the fruit goes into La Dame de Montrose, and a small portion into a third wine, Tertio de Montrose (previously known as Saint-Estèphe de Montrose), which is exclusively for those working at the estate. All in all, the Grand Vin now represents circa 36% of production at Montrose – down from closer to 45%.   “T3 and T4 are, in our opinion, the terraces that produce the best viticultural results,” says Pierre Becheler, when it comes to the Médoc and Haut-Médoc. Interestingly he explains that in the Graves it’s very different, and T2, which is almost non-existent in the Médoc, produces some stunning results. He can’t fully explain why one terrace works better for wine than another, but one reason the terraces are so important is their influence on water availability. With varying proportions of clay and sizes of gravel, it’s a key element in viticulture and, eventually, wine quality. Although he has spent much of his career diving into these gravel beds, however, he’s very clear that the terraces are one very important piece of the puzzle – but will never provide the entire picture. Some terraces are the best in certain appellations, he says, “but we don’t really know why or how”.  The complexities of Bordeaux’s terroir are manifold – and some argue that the bedrock, from richer clays to hard limestones, are more influential than the gravel terraces that lie over them. On top of this, slope exposition, proximity to the Gironde, and many other elements influencing microclimate, not to mention the human influence, all contribute to the concept of “terroir”. It’s exciting to see site pushed to the fore, especially alongside an increased focus on sustainability in the vineyard. The conversation is evolving – and, if Montrose’s 2023 is anything to go by, it’s only going to push quality in the region higher than ever before.  Explore all current Montrose listing (including a special selection of ex-château stock) or read more about Bordeaux 

While long a leading estate, recent vintages of Ch. Montrose have earned sky-high scores. We sat down with the property’s Technical Director Vincent Decup to find out how the team is taking the Saint-Estèphe titan to new heights – all by looking underfoot  

Sitting down with Ch. Montrose’s Technical Director Vincent Decup to talk about its terroir, terraces and perfect-scoring vintages of the Saint-Estephe wine 

FINE+RARE: Talking terraces and terroir with Ch. Montrose 

What lies beneath: talking terraces and terroir with Ch. Montrose  

En primeur is the system of buying unfinished, young wine, essentially as “futures”. The wines are sold while still maturing in barrel, and shipped once bottled to wine-lovers around the world. Bordeaux pioneered the system, and it remains important in the region, although en primeur has now spread and wines from Burgundy, the Rhône, Italy, the US, Australia and beyond are now all sold in this way. But how did it start? 
While consumers have only been purchasing wine en primeur since the 1980s, wine has been sold “unfinished” to merchants for centuries. Traditionally wine was not bottled or sold by the châteaux; once the wine went into barrel it would be transferred to négociants who would age the wine in their warehouses in the Chartrons district of Bordeaux, and be responsible for their sale and distribution – an unseemly business that didn’t sit well with the noble château-owners. The wine would then either be bottled in Bordeaux or shipped on in barrel to markets like the UK, and bottled for sale to consumers there. 
While Bordeaux might seem glossy and polished today, with its grand châteaux, manicured lawns and immaculate wineries, the region’s wine industry has not always been so prosperous. In the mid-19th century, mildew arrived and devastated much of Europe’s vineyards, followed by the arrival of phylloxera, killing vines and forcing producers to, eventually, replant. When winegrowers had recovered from Mother Nature’s attacks, the First and Second World Wars arrived, bringing further economic challenges. Producers needed ways to finance their operation, while merchants were always on the lookout for a way to secure stock and the best price possible. 
As producers struggled, they resorted to selling grapes while still on the vine, “sur souche”, agreeing a price based on the previous vintage and gambling on the final quality of the crop. Sur souche sales continued into the 1960s – eventually waning after producers were burnt by the low-yielding, excellent and woefully undervalued 1961s. When times were particularly hard, châteaux – even the most fabled addresses – committed to selling their crop for up to 10 years at a fixed price to a merchant, tying themselves into an “abonnement”, guaranteeing a base level of income, but losing out on potential profits if or when prices rose. 
Up to this point, early sales of wine (or grapes) had only been to négociants in Bordeaux, but the 1973 oil crisis prompted a shift. The subsequent crash left producers, négociants and every layer of the wine trade in dire need of funds. Having struggled to sell the 1972 vintage, châteaux didn’t have the money to invest in the production of the challenging ’73 and ’74 vintages. The 1975 growing season arrived with more favourable conditions and the wines showed promise; samples were shipped to London for buyers to sample and sell.  
En primeur really took off, however, with Bordeaux’s 1982 vintage. Robert Parker had started writing his newsletter in 1978, introducing the world to his 100-point rating system for wine. He came out early with a firm endorsement of the 1982s, and urging consumers to buy them; when others were less convinced. Many, especially in the US, took the opportunity to buy up the wines en primeur – and were duly rewarded, with the vintage now considered legendary. 
The early sale of the wines eased cash-flow problems for producers and négociants, while merchants and consumers benefited from being able to secure stock of wines at a favourable price. As en primeur sales grew, properties became much more profitable businesses, able to funnel investment back into their vineyards and wineries. At the same time, ownership of estates was shifting. In 1981, inheritance taxes doubled, making it harder for families to keep châteaux and companies – from insurance to luxury goods and everything in between started buying up properties. While some corporations focused on quantity rather than quality, many arrived with the necessary finances to push quality forward. The 1990s saw many estates introduce second wines, allowing them to further elevate quality of their Grand Vin, and Parker’s influence continued to grow. All of these elements combined to see Bordeaux as a region and its wines evolving at pace – giving even more reason to secure a new vintage up front. 
For consumers, en primeur provided a way to secure the most sought-after wines at the best prices. In top vintages, the wines offered significant returns too – and speculation ensued. The wine market expanded, with new interest from Japanese and Chinese buyers. The market exploded when Hong Kong abolished tax on wine in 2008. The frenzy built and prices rose – with the top-rated 2009 and 2010 vintages hitting new, inflated highs. En primeur no longer offered the safe return it had. The bubble burst. 
Châteaux, merchants and collectors were all stung, and there is now greater awareness of potential inflation in the market. This consciousness and understanding has settled the market and made en primeur relevant once more, although fortunately without the speculation of previous vintages. 
In 2012, Ch. Latour announced it was abandoning the en primeur system – deciding instead to offer wines only when they are ready to drink, with 2011 the last vintage to be offered as futures. It was a significant blow for en primeur to see a First Growth abandon the system, but while there was a fear this step could open the floodgates, no one else has yet followed the First Growth. 
Today, en primeur remains significant for Bordeaux. In April of each year, the world’s wine trade descends on Bordeaux to taste the latest vintage (harvested the previous year). Organised by the Union des Grands Crus de Bordeaux, the “Primeurs” week is an impressive publicity machine, focusing attention on the region – and while the spotlight might be on the very top properties, there’s a clear halo effect for the entire region. 
There has been a move for estates to hold back a little more stock, some of which may be offered ex-château at a later date, but most Classed Growths still sell between 70 and 90% of their entire production en primeur.  
The benefits for Bordeaux and its châteaux are clear, but what is in it for those wanting to buy the wine? Many of the reasons to buy en primeur are unchanged. There are no guarantees that you’ll make a financial return with en primeur, but inevitably wines do become rarer with time; as wines enter their drinking window, they become more desirable (and often increase in value), and over time they become scarcer, as bottles are uncorked and the finite supply of a specific vintage dwindles. As such, en primeur can offer a useful way to secure stock of wines, particularly those from small, sought-after properties which can be near-impossible to obtain after release. 
Buying en primeur also offers flawless provenance. The wine will move from the estate to wherever you store your wine, and then once more when it is withdrawn for consumption, ensuring optimal maturation conditions, and retaining maximum value should you decide to sell rather than drink. An additional luxury of buying en primeur is being able to buy any format; as the wine isn’t yet bottled, you can purchase half-bottles, magnums, jeroboams, imperials or any other size you desire easily. 
While critic scores certainly still influence the sale of wines, no single voice has the power that Robert Parker had in his heyday. Today, there are more critics than ever before – with individual writers breaking away from larger publications like the Wine Advocate to create their own platform, each with their own tastes, offering different perspectives on the vintage – arguably giving consumers more information than ever before. 
It’s little surprise that other regions have adopted the system, with Burgundy in particular embracing en primeur. Opportunities undoubtedly remain – as a vintage like 2019, sold in the midst of 2020 and the Covid-19 pandemic shows. Faced with an uncertain market, producers dropped their prices and consumers flooded to buy Bordeaux’s wines. The vintage turned out to be spectacular, with buyers justly rewarded for investing in the wines. When a vintage is good, and the pricing right, there really is nothing like the palpable buzz and excitement that the Primeurs season brings to the world of wine.  
Find out more about en primeur, including how it works, or browse all wine currently available en primeur

Each year, key fine wine regions offer their wines en primeur, or as “wine futures”, but it hasn’t always worked this way. Sophie Thorpe dives into the origins and history of the system – and what it means for wine-lovers today

En primeur is the system of buying wine futures: we delve into its origins, history and what it means today for chateaux, negociants merchants and wine-lovers

What is en primeur? Explaining wine futures

What is en primeur: the origins of wine futures

Burgundy is a mecca for lovers of fine Chardonnay and Pinot Noir, but, with its litany of producers and vineyards, it can be a tricky region to get to grips with. Here we offer an essential guide to the region – breaking down everything from how vineyards are classified to producers to look out for

Discover everything you need to know about Burgundy: from vineyards and producers to the difference between négociant and domaine or what a Grand Cru is

FINE+RARE: Your essential guide to Burgundy wine

Your essential guide to Burgundy

In 1991, Jean-Luc Thunevin made the first vintage of Valandraud. In the workshop next to his house, he produced just 100 cases of wine from tiny yields, de-stemming and punching it down by hand and ageing it in 100% new French oak. Although it didn’t have a name yet, the garagiste movement had been born.  As the Super Tuscans had in Italy, these maverick bottlings, operating outside the official classification, rocked the world of wine – especially in the conservative heartland of Bordeaux. At the same time, the likes of Harlan and Colgin were starting to prove the power of Cabernet Sauvignon in Napa. Meanwhile on the East Coast, a lawyer called Robert Parker had already gathered a loyal following for his newsletter, offering independent advice and a novel scoring system. The internet was just getting started. Everything in the world of wine was changing.  “In the 1990s there was formidable energy and consumers who were ready to accept something new,” says Thunevin. But the Bordeaux wine trade was stuck in the Middle Ages, he says; it was aristocratic, closed – and one reason why the garagistes, a collection of outsiders, caused quite such a stir. Thunevin himself had been in banking, while Jonathan Maltus (Le Dôme) was a British businessman and Stephan von Neipperg (La Mondotte) a German interloper. With the challenging conditions of 1991, the first vintage of Valandraud had little impact. He made a tiny volume of red, and then a rosé de saignée that he gave away to friends. “L’histoire, c’est ’92,” Thunevin tells me, almost whimsically. The wine, a product of much more favourable growing conditions, put him on the map. “I created a revolution,” he says today. The 1991 Valandraud was released to négociants for 13€; the 2022 came out at 118€.  It was Michel Bettane who coined the term “vin de garage”, sneeringly suggesting that these new-fangled wines could be made in someone’s garage. But, as Jean-Luc Thunevin told me, “By talking about me, they made me exist.” Without such outrage from wine’s more traditional core, the garagistes likely wouldn’t have had the same success. Combine Bettane’s throwaway comment with the rise of garage music in the US and UK, and the movement gained an accidental cool-factor – but that’s all changed now.  “I don’t think anybody wants to admit they were a garagiste anymore,” Jonathan Maltus – the Englishman who created Le Dôme in 1996 – says. He looks back on the time with relative fondness, however. He’d arrived in Bordeaux in 1994, buying Ch. Teyssier, having sold his petrochemical business and decided after a stint in Cahors that he needed to be in the “Formula One” of wine, making for Bordeaux. It was an English wine merchant who told him how a single-vineyard Pomerol called Le Pin was causing a stir – one of a handful of “cuvée wines” that were becoming incredibly popular. As a canny businessman, he decided to give it a go himself.  “It was really exciting – and there was no budget,” Maltus says frankly, explaining how the movement rapidly became a game of one-upmanship. They would instantly snap up any new machinery or equipment, pushing their concepts further and further to out-do each other. Green-harvesting and picking only the ripest berries in multiple passes was de rigueur; the vines often stripped of their leaves to expose the fruit to the sunshine and maximise ripeness (something climate change has put paid to). Yields were consistently low, with over 30hl/ha considered too much to produce the requisite concentration. Maltus explains how the introduction of double-sorting and cold-soaking was radical – both expensive tools, with the latter requiring protective gas and the ability to chill tanks. He would put the wine into one set of new French oak barrels for malolactic fermentation, before transferring the wine to another batch of new oak for ageing. The resulting wines were bold, rich and lavish. “I like to think of it as a kind of Vivienne Westwood period,” Maltus says.  Ask any of the garagistes who inspired them and they’ll point to, among others, Le Pin. Although owner Jacques Thienpont firmly believes Le Pin is not – and never was – a garage wine; he feels that it is sometimes mistakenly seen as one because it was so successful at the time. Ironically, the wine was originally made in a garage, from just one hectare of vines. It was the sensuality of the wine that inspired Jean-Luc Thunevin, he tells me. He visited Le Pin several times and Thienpont told him that wine was all about the quality of the soil, rather than winemaking. “In the cellar, there are no secrets,” Thienpont says. Thienpont wasn’t Thunevin’s only advisor; Alain Vauthier of Ausone happened to be a school friend, and helped the amateur winemaker.  This tension between terroir and technique is at the heart of the garagiste movement. Jean-Luc Thunevin tells me how Valandraud was not a garage wine, but a “garden wine” – from 300 vines he planted on 0.6 hectares, a single site captured in 300 bottles. For Stephan von Neipperg, who made the first vintage of La Mondotte in 1996, from 4.5 hectares, “It’s a terroir… without an outstanding terroir, you cannot make an outstanding wine.” The garagistes, in his mind, by contrast were about “making the wine easier to understand – round, ripe, sometimes too ripe, extracted” – it’s a term he assigns to the likes of Ch. Gracia – first made in 1997, in a back-alley of Saint-Emilion.  Whether you are convinced these wines were true expressions of site or not, they were a direct contrast to the Médoc Classed Growths – where vast swathes of land were used to create a blend each year. Was it a reaction to the Left Bank’s dependence on blending, maybe even a complacency? Perhaps, but it was also a consequence of what each of them could afford; none of them, at first, had the cash to buy any more land. Thunevin’s methodology, for example, wasn’t idealistic; he had to do everything by hand because he didn’t have a tractor or any other equipment, splurging on new barrels alone, and turning a profit for the first time only in 1995.  It’s hard to untangle the movement from Parker’s influence – but few of the early renditions earned the big scores one expects and associates with these vins de garage. Le Dôme, for example, only earned 100 points in 2010 – long after Maltus had started reining in the style, La Mondotte in 2009. Although 1992 Valandraud kickstarted the movement, Parker only gave it 87-88 points when he first rated it in February 1994. Time blurs lines, inevitably – and, although it’s undeniable that Parker’s palate aligned with plush, polished styles, the truth around his influence is more complicated.   “We realised that the whole thing was just becoming a parody of itself,” Maltus says. He points to 2002 a real turning point, but it was only from 2008 that he stopped double oaking, reduced the proportion of new oak to 80%, and more recently started picking earlier. It’s the same across the spectrum, with many of these rebel estates now part of the formal classification system – absorbed into the establishment.  The instigator Jean-Luc Thunevin was branded Bordeaux’s “bad boy” for having challenged the status quo. It’s a reputation that he worked hard to keep – continually pushing forward (indeed, he even makes wine under the Bad Boy name today). Asking what prompted him to create Valandraud – and make it so differently, he says, “I have always been out of my mind. I always wanted to do things that were a bit shocking.”  Today, Bordeaux has more competitors than ever before, with a world of fine wine that is now truly global. Thunevin feels it’s a region in crisis – in need of another bad boy to take the baton. He was an outsider with nothing but a romantic dream of making wine. Whether you like what he did or not, he changed Bordeaux for good. “Les rêves sont nécessaires à notre équilibre,” he tells me – dreams are essential for our balance. The garage movement was just one chapter in Bordeaux’s lengthy history, but perhaps it’s time for another wave of disruptors – after all, they may just be the key to its long-term survival.  Browse all Bordeaux listings or read more about Bordeaux 

When it comes to wine, little has changed in Bordeaux for centuries – but in the 1990s a group of outsiders shook things up: the garagistes. Sophie Thorpe talks to three of the movement’s leading figures about its legacy – and what it means for Bordeaux today

Talking to Valandraud, Le Dome, La Mondotte and Le Pin about Bordeaux’s garagiste movement and what it means for Bordeaux today

The legacy of Bordeaux’s garagistes

Disrupt and disturb: the legacy of Bordeaux’s garagistes

It is hard to imagine The Balvenie without David Stewart MBE and vice versa. The story of each one is so entwined with the other that it’s nigh on impossible to unpick where one starts and the other ends. Since joining William Grant & Sons in 1962 as a whisky stocks clerk, Stewart has gone on to become of the most well-known and respected names in the Scotch whisky industry. He is, for many, the pioneer of cask finishing, and his achievements are far too numerous to list. When the incredibly humble man “hangs up his boots” after a 57-year-plus career, Kelsey McKechnie will become the youngest-ever female Malt Master. “Everyone always jokes and says do I feel the pressure and what does it feel like getting into a role like this. There definitely is an element of pressure around it but it’s funny, you really don’t feel it. I enjoy this role and I love being here. I’ve been very lucky, so I’m saying ‘let’s ride it out for as long as we can’,” the 29-year-old says with unfettered excitement. The Malt Master role is a very different one today than it was in the 1960s, something McKechnie and William Grant & Sons Master Blender Brian Kinsman continually rib Stewart about. “Obviously, way back in the ’60s we had very little to nose,” Stewart says in a flash. When he joined the family-owned business under Master Blender and Balvenie Malt Master Hamish Robertson, Glenfiddich and The Balvenie weren’t being bottled as single malts and Grant’s Standfast blend was the company’s bread and butter. Today, the triumvirate nose samples from Ailsa Bay, Girvan Distillery, Kininvie, Glenfiddich and The Balvenie. From the new-make spirit to mature samples, bottling runs to all the vat samples, everything produced at the William Grant distilleries in Scotland and Ireland passes under the noses of Kinsman, McKechnie and Stewart. This equates to approximately 40-50 Scotch, Irish whiskey, Bourbon and rum samples per day. There are a number of parallels in Stewart and McKechnie’s stories, which they don’t even seem to realise. Both started in very different roles and eyed an interesting opportunity to nose spirits. Through serendipity and, one suspects, a tremendous amount of inherent skill and hard graft, the two found their way into the nosing lab. And once faced with row upon row of whisky samples, the pair knew in an instant that they found their calling. “I always say I have been very lucky,” McKechnie says. “I’m such a firm believer in timing. I came into the team at a time when I had built up enough technical process skills to understand how whisky is produced and carry out analysis, and do all these different things and apply it to blending.” In 2018, Kinsman and Stewart approached 26-year-old McKechnie to ask if she would be interested in learning all things regarding Balvenie and eventually moving into the Malt Master role. She’d been with the company for almost four years at this time, working her way from the lab to the whisky stocks team, from the Lowlands to the beating heart of the business in Speyside. So, what does it take to become a Malt Master and what did the two whisky patriarchs see in the young female scientist at the infancy of her whisky career? According to Stewart, one of the biggest things is the nosing aspect. “We can identify what’s right and what’s not, just by nosing the whisky,” he says. “And that’s what takes the time to learn.” Stewart had already been through the process of training a successor with Brian Kinsman from 2001 to 2010. It might be hard for some to fathom why this apprenticeship takes the best part of a decade, but so much of the role is about instinct and the finest of margins. In the same way Robertson brought in samples for Stewart – albeit not quite as many – all those years before, Stewart to this day brings in spirit samples for Kinsman and McKechnie. “Really, it’s nosing together; pointing out things,” Stewart adds. “I bring in samples from different cask types and different ages. Brian just worked with me and gradually he took over and I was doing less and less.” When asked if she thinks she has a natural gift, McKechnie says it’s curiosity above anything else that’s required to be a good noser. “I think everybody just needs to be curious enough to want to nose. Most often – apart from a few people where it is genetic and there’s one reason or another that they don’t have a sense of smell – I actually think so many people will be fantastic nosers.” And the difference between Joe Bloggs and the youngest-ever female Malt Master? The word association piece, according to McKechnie. “So often we’ll see when people are starting up that they can nose something and they can say ‘this is different’. So we do difference nosing. We have one glass and we’re just nosing it against another and saying ‘pick up the difference or not’ – it’s often easy for people but they can’t put into play what they can pick up.” Like any other skill, McKechnie says it takes years of practice and fine tuning. “It’s like using a different language,” she says. “To remain fluent, you need to continually keep nosing and to be able to relate those words to what you’re picking up in nose and taste. I actually think everyone has a gift, if that’s what you want to call it, or the ability to do it. It’s just about really working out what flavour this is and what do we call it.” Sometimes tasting notes for spirits and wines can be a little, shall we say, creative. For this reason, at William Grant & Sons, free words are banned. “We’re really strict about what people can call the different spirits,” McKechnie explains. “It could be too easy for somebody to say ‘this smells like a walk in the park’ and we can find ourselves in a bit of a pickle.” When starting out, as a professional or merely an appreciator of spirits, this word association piece can be a barrier, according to McKechnie, but it shouldn’t be. “There is no need for whisky to be intimidating at all,” she says. “For me, I think it’s because people are so passionate about it. It gets everyone a little bit puffed up – I’m guilty of it as well. But there really is no need for it at all because it really is such an open area that there isn’t one strict answer so I’ll always say that to people – if you are new to it, make sure you get lots of water in there because whisky is just such a flavour bomb. I think people don’t really know what they’re nosing because there are 50-100 different flavours coming at you at once.” So, do the three professional nosers ever disagree? “Because I’ve only ever learned to nose and blend from David who has learned from Brian and vice versa, we don’t often butt heads or have a difference of opinion –  but it does happen,” McKechnie says with a coy smile. Rather than being daunted by the spectre of the longest-serving Malt Master and Kinsman – who has racked up a fairly daunting 24 years in role – McKechnie seems energised by the legacy and is visibly thrilled at the prospect of one day imparting this knowledge to her own apprentice. “I think it would be a massive compliment to be able to give someone the knowledge you have gained,” she says. “I really like the thought of actually one day being able to train someone.” When it comes to the future at The Balvenie, McKechnie says they have “many things bubbling away in the warehouses” and they have “a few more Balvenies tucked up our sleeves”. But, on a personal note, “it’s working with Brian and David day-in-day-out and gaining more of the understanding about what makes Balvenie so unique. Understanding more around the stock model and that 50-year horizon and ensuring that I’ve got the skills to make sure the next 50 years is looking good and that we’re not laying down all the wrong things.” The Balvenie maintains a lot of the traditional whisky-making traditions. It is the only Scotch whisky distillery to grow its own barley, use traditional floor maltings and keep coppersmiths and coopers on site. Rather than being gilded handcuffs, these ties to traditions allow the team to experiment at the point of distillation and Stewart has spearheaded a number of trials that have come from the maltings throughout his career. “I think if there is one thing that David has ever taught me, it’s about how important innovation is,” McKechnie says. “We always talk about the fact we’re the home of cask finishing. It was something that was second nature in David’s role until people started calling it innovation. “And it’s something that we always want to pass on. We’re constantly thinking about what’s next and how can we do something unique and what exciting things we have in the distillery that we could release and bring to everyone. “Obviously the Scotch Whisky Association is pretty strict, in a good way, so that no-one is going to mimic us, but we also like to push the boundaries a little bit and say, what can we really get away with here?” With a glint in her eye and an unmistakable enthusiasm in her voice, you can’t help but feel The Balvenie, when it comes to honouring tradition and driving innovation, is in very safe hands for the next 50 years and beyond. Browse all whisky or read more Editorial

David Stewart MBE is the longest-serving Malt Master. Kelsey McKechnie is the youngest female Malt Master Apprentice. Holly Motion speaks to the two Balvenie record-breakers about passing the baton, the weight of a legacy, and what it really means to lay down stocks for the next generation

Balvenie's longest-serving Malt Master David Stewart MBE and his successor Kelsey McKechnie on upholding tradition while driving innovation at the distillery.

The Balvenie, making of a master

The Balvenie: the making of a master

Ch. Beauséjour Duffau-Lagarrosse clearly has some fantastic terroir. One of only a handful of top-rated Premier Grand Cru Classé B estates, it is beautifully positioned on the southwest-facing slopes of Saint-Emilion’s famous limestone plateau. The property gained notoriety with the release of its 1990 – a wine Robert Parker professed as being “the wine of the vintage” en primeur – in his view beating other legendary wines from the year, such as Margaux, Pétrus and Latour. After maturation in bottle, he went further and declared that it may be “one of the greatest wines made this century”. A legend was born. This historic estate has been in the Duffau-Lagarrosse family since 1847, but Joséphine’s recent take-over was far from straightforward. Prior to the sale, it was owned by 30 members of her family. With the majority wanting to sell the property. Determined for it to remain part of the Duffau-Lagarrosse legacy, the only option was to attempt to buy it herself – no small feat for the then 30-year-old. But this prime-positioned Saint-Emilion estate had plenty of bidders queuing to snap it up, undeterred by the €75 million price tag – a price far beyond Duffau-Lagarrosse’s means. Initially, it was a bidding war between neighbouring Ch. Angélus’s Stéphanie de Boüard and Clos Fourtet’s Matthieu Cuvelier. Then, however, the Courtin-Clarins family stepped in – and offered to partner with Joséphine Duffau-Lagarrosse. Joséphine met with Prisca Courtin-Clarins, Clarins CEO and the third generation to run her family’s cosmetic empire (which remains 100% family-owned). According to Duffau-Lagarrosse, they instantly hit it off and the synergy between them was obvious: two young, talented, ambitious French women. Duffau-Lagarrosse had all the technical know-how to make great wine, as well as a life-long experience of the estate.  Courtin-Clarins, meanwhile, had all the commercial experience and financial backing to help manage and develop the business side of the property. Joséphine invited Prisca to see the château and she loved it. Within a month of meeting, they had put in their own bid. With the family connection, their bid was favoured and the two of them became co-directors on 12th April 2021. Walking around the amazing labyrinth of limestone caves under the property (covering 650 square-metres), where Duffau-Lagarrosse now ages the wine, you can see how proud she is of her family estate and how excited she is for the future – now under her control. She admits that it all happened a bit quickly. After deciding to follow in her family’s oenological footsteps, she had deliberately stayed away from Bordeaux for as long as she could, knowing that her family ties would eventually pull her back. Born and raised in Pomerol after graduating, it wasn’t long before she was travelling around the world, learning to make wine in regions other than Bordeaux. Duffau-Lagarrosse has an impressive resumé, working under some of the world’s best winemakers. She worked with Ch. Margaux’s Phillipe Bascaules when he was at Inglenook in Napa Valley, before heading to Hawkes Bay in New Zealand to work on Bordeaux blends in a contrasting climate. Following her stint there, she went to Mexico to work on a project with famous Bordelais consultant Stéphane Derenoncourt, before returning to France and working in Burgundy with Maxime Cheurlin at Domaine Georges Noëllat – someone who had inherited an historic family estate at a similarly young age. Of all the vintages to take on such a legacy, however, 2021 was far from the easiest – a year that asked everything of its makers. “It was not easy,” she admits, a smile sneaking onto her face, “but I really enjoyed it.” As we tasted the 2021, we asked whether she’d had to chaptalise – a common practice in the year’s cool conditions. For a millennial born in the era of climate change, it was totally new to her, but she felt it was needed to round out the mid-palate. “So I called Burgundy,” she jests, a twinkle in her eye. Despite its challenges, Duffau-Lagarrosse is very pleased with her 2021 – the first full vintage under her lead – and as she should be. She certainly respects what previous winemaker, Nicolas Thienpont, had done with the estate over the last 12 years – consistently producing one of the top wines of the vintage. Without swerving away from his style, Duffau-Lagarrosse is still keen to put her own bent on the wine. Reducing the amount of new oak is perhaps the most obvious first step – although that is also understandable considering the vintage conditions in 2021. She is also keen to make sure extraction levels are very carefully monitored and this was particularly important in 2021. “We had to question everything,” says Duffau-Lagarrosse, but the challenges proved to be a fast-track for understanding the terroir she had inherited. And she wasn’t alone – hiring two of Bordeaux’s leading consultants, Axel Marchand (professor of oenology at Bordeaux University) and Julien Viaud (the co-owner of Michel Rolland’s consultancy, which according to Duffau-Lagarrosse, has a contrasting and complementary approach to Rolland’s philosophy of high extraction and high proportions of new oak). The new team is certainly one of the most exciting and positive developments in Saint-Emilion – especially given the recent tumult in the appellation. There is certainly a lovely balance to the Ch. Beauséjour Duffau-Lagarrosse in 2021, and the wine has captured the beautiful, scented perfume of vintage’s top examples. It’s a wine that shows the promise of this vigneronne and address – one that is set to compete with the very best in the appellation. The legend is safe in the hands of its rightful owner. Browse all Editorial 

The 2021 vintage was a challenging year in Bordeaux – but at Saint-Emilion estate Ch. Beauséjour Duffau-Lagarrosse, it was also the first with Joséphine Duffau-Lagarrosse at the helm. We visited the young vigneronne to find out what it means to take on such a legacy

1990 Beauséjour Duffau-Lagarrosse was declared “a modern legend” by Robert Parker. Now Joséphine has taken over the family estate. We visited to find out more

Joséphine Duffau-Lagarrosse on her family legacy

Generation Y: Joséphine Duffau-Lagarrosse

Few wine regions have seen a transformation as significant as Tuscany has over the last 15 years. These days the region regularly produces some of the finest wines found anywhere on the planet, while retaining a distinct sense of place.  Tuscany is the only region in the world to have truly tamed Sangiovese, with nowhere else able to grow this fussy grape variety and produce wines of the same level. At the same time, Tuscany has managed to produce some of the world’s finest renditions of the better-travelled international varieties such as Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot; even Pinot Noir and Chardonnay are finding a foothold in this magical enclave of central Italy. Few have been as influential in this transformative journey than San Guisto a Rentennano’s Luca Martini di Cigala, who has managed to produce not one but two of the region’s most iconic wines – Percarlo (100% Sangiovese) and La Ricolma (100% Merlot). In his typically modest manner, however, he does not believe great wines are made by great winemakers – but by understanding where a vigneron must focus their attention in the vineyard. According to Martini di Cigala, winemaking can improve the quality of a wine by no more than 10%. “Great wine, however, is made with great fruit,” he says. So what is it about Tuscany that has resulted in the region’s recent renaissance? For Martini di Cigala, it has been understanding how the region’s unique soils and climate, if allowed, can produce wines where the character of the terroir prevales, rather than the varietal. “When it is the opposite and the varietal character is more evident than the character of the place, of the area, of the soil,” says Cigale, “to me it doesn’t make much sense.” It is the vineyard that must do the talking, not the grape variety, nor the winemaking. While the Tuscan wine renaissance began in the late 1970s and early ’80s, the meteoric rise of the region was far from linear. Among the new wave of pioneers, there was naivety too and, understandably, external influences started to impact how wine was being made. Back then, San Giusto A Rentennano didn’t have their own personal brand, and were selling wine to the big wineries like Antinori and Ruffino.  Following in the footsteps of the likes of Fontodi, Isole e Elena and Montevertini they decided to focus on improving the quality of their Sangiovese – which began, fundamentally, by reducing the yields in the vineyard. “Before that, we used to produce a good Chianti,” says Martini di Cigala, “a simple wine.” But, with these changes, “The stye completely changed and we began to focus on making wines for long ageing.” As the movement progressed, however, he began to sense a period of self-doubt looming. “Compared to today, where there is a big improvement in the culture of tasting wines and recognising the character of the different varieties,” he says, “people were used to drinking rounder, softer wines. And Sangiovese [made at lower yields] can be so aggressive, so hard with the tannins – especially when young. It was a problem.” At the time, many of the vignerons felt that in order to increase the wine’s ageing potential, the wines needed to be darker and more concentrated, while also exposing the wine to plenty of new oak and more oxygen – opting for smaller 225-litre barrels (barriques) rather than the region’s traditional larger casks. You could see the commercial attraction too, since this approach softened Sangiovese’s tannins. Emerging regions like Tuscany were all looking towards more established fine wine regions for inspiration. The use of new barriques was fashionable around the world but, most notably, part of the Bordeaux recipe of the time. Twenty years ago, Martini di Cigala believes, they wrongly followed these trends, producing intense, overripe, over-oaked wines. “It was a mistake because many wineries didn’t keep the character of the Sangiovese – either due to excessive use of wood, which does not integrate well with Sangiovese, or because it was blended with other varieties to build the wine’s intensity, while softening its aggressive nature.” For Martini di Cigala, even his Merlot plantings weren’t performing well – despite being a variety better suited to the current trends, with better resistance to new oak’s influence. The current recipe was not working for him – or for Tuscany. Early in its renaissance, the region began to stumble. Martini di Cigala’s success came when he realised that, despite sharing the same vineyards, his Merlot and Sangiovese had very little in common. To produce anything better than ordinary, he had to start treating the two varieties completely differently and let the vines do the talking. Sangiovese is a frustratingly fickle variety. It has the potential to produce wines as ethereal as the finest Pinot Noir and as rich and elegant as fine Bordeaux. Yet it has failed to make any real imprint outside Italy and, even today in Tuscany, it remains maddeningly inconsistent. “Compared to other varieties like Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon and Syrah,” he says, “these varieties can produce wine everywhere. With Sangiovese it is hard because it needs calcareous soil in order to produce the right balance of tannins. In any other kinds of soil, it either increases acidity too much or the opposite, making the wine very flat. To produce a wine with a precise character with a lot of tannin but at the same time integrated with the fruit, Sangiovese needs calcareous soil.” But, he stresses, it is not only the soil but the climate that is important too. “It is difficult to have great Sangiovese that is very, very light, low in alcohol and low in polyphenols [tannins]. The wine must be rich,” he says. The region must be hot. The elegance and the precision, however, come from another distinct attribute of the hillsides of Tuscany: cool night-time temperatures. This, Martini di Cigala believes, is vital for the elegance of the wines – and something that can be lost in warmer vintages. “Sangiovese is very delicate, if there is too much concentration, the level of tannins risk damaging the wine’s natural elegance and the balance,” says Cigala. For me it is a great wine when the wine doesn’t need to show muscle. It is not important to be extremely concentrated or to have a lot of colour for a great vintage. It is more about the balance of the different factors.” He notes that some of the most celebrated vintages aren’t necessarily the longest-lived, highlighting that the cooler 2013 and 2014 vintages will outlive the much applauded, warmer 2015s – although he insists 2016 has proved to be spectacular. Percarlo evolved as Martini di Cigala gradually understood Sangiovese’s sensitivities. Up until 2008, Percarlo was aged 100% in barriques. First produced in 1983, the amount of new wood has been reduced over the years. Today he doesn’t use any barriques at all for Percarlo, or for any of his other Sangiovese wines (Chianti Classico and Riserva). He believes Sangiovese is too sensitive to oxygen to age in smaller barriques. Today it is matured 50/50 in large 5,000-litre and 3,000-litre barrels. Martini di Cigala didn’t start producing Merlot until 1993, but for the first 10 years, he managed the vines similarly to his Sangiovese – with mixed results. “Sometimes the vintage would be very Tuscan in style and then the opposite in other vintages – the aromas were more like Merlot from north Italy with more pepper on the nose. I was never convinced with the results,” he says. The Merlot in Chianti Classico is also very different to the Merlot grown on the Tuscan coast of Bolgheri. The bigger diurnal temperature shifts in the Tuscan hills produce Merlot with more acidity. The wines are, in Martini di Cigala’s words, “more vertical”. The real success of both Percarlo and La Ricolma, Martini di Cigala believes, lies in the bespoke adaptations he started to make in the vineyard for each variety. Sangiovese really benefits from an early green harvest in July – reducing the natural yield. Merlot, on the other hand, proves to be a disaster if you do the same thing and limit your yields so early in the growing season – causing a spike in sugar production at the expense of tannin development.  Martini di Cigala also painstakingly picks the Sangiovese destined for his Percarlo bunch by bunch, assessing each vine individually. Picking Merlot bunch by bunch, in contrast, makes no sense – “it is far too irregular”. While Sangiovese yields can be manipulated throughout véraison to its benefit, Merlot needs to be left alone. “The key for Merlot”, he says, “is to try to slow down its ripening. If the variety doesn’t have a long growing cycle, the wine remains short.” Over the years Martini di Cigala has moved his Merlot vines to the coolest parts of his vineyards. He admits his original La Ricolma Merlot plot is his worst, its west-facing exposition making it too warm. He much prefers his plots closer to the river where temperatures are lower. But the key viticultural work for both his Merlot and Sangiovese starts earlier – he is keen to point out that there is no recipe each year, the cultivation has to be very precise depending on the vines’ needs. “You have to be a good interpreter of the season. Often you don’t notice the stress in the vineyard until July, by which time it is too late. You have to follow the trends of the weather earlier – this is the most difficult point of our job and has become especially true in the last few hotter years.” Each viticultural step has to follow the trend of the season. That, for him, is the key. Over nearly 40 years Martini di Cigala has continued to make tweaks in the vineyards, further improving the wines. Up until 2004 he used to select the Percarlo grapes only from certain parts of the vineyard, but now the fruit is picked bunch by bunch – another fundamental reason, he believes, the wines’ quality has escalated. Martini di Cigala has proven that wines made from Sangiovese and Merlot can be both bold and beautiful, aligning the Tuscan hills’ unique climate with precision viticulture. The hot summers and cool night-time temperatures matched with the calcareous soils are the perfect combination for Sangiovese and are testament to Merlot’s adaptability. After a period of self-doubt and mixed results for the region, the Tuscan renaissance today has well and truly found its foothold and is on an extraordinary run. And it is Percarlo and La Ricolma leading the pack. “If you asked me to name 15 great wineries in Chianti Classico 20 years ago, I would be in trouble,” says Martini di Cigala. “Today I could arrive at 50 or 60.” What has changed most today, according to the winemaker, is a paradigm shift in focus from winery to vineyard. While he is a little disappointed more of them haven’t turned to organic farming (of which he is a longstanding proponent), he believes the change has been very positive. A noble name, a castle, or a famous winemaker today no longer makes the headlines in Tuscany. It is precision viticulture that has taken these distinct wines from the Tuscan hills to the top of many collectors’ wish lists. Keep an eye out for the latest releases from San Giusto a Rentennano, coming soon. Browse all current listings of San Giusto a Rentennano or read more Editorial

Luca Martini di Cigala, the man behind Percarlo and La Ricolma, is one of Tuscany’s viticultural pioneers. We spoke to the San Giusto a Rentennano winemaker about his role in the region’s renaissance and how he turned to the vineyard to reveal his wines’ true potential

Exploring how San Giusto a Rentennano’s Luca Martini di Cigala discovered Tuscany’s true wine potential with his iconic Percarlo and La Ricolma wines.


San Giusto a Rentennano's iconic Tuscan reds

Two titans of Tuscany: Percarlo and La Ricolma

William Lowe has achieved a great many things in his life. At the time of writing, he’s the only Master Distiller to also hold a Master of Wine title. At the age of 41, he already has countless letters after his name from various academic qualifications in psychology and philosophy, and is months away from embarking on a PhD in Chemical Engineering and Biotechnology. “I’m a serial studier,” he says with a boyish smirk and an infectious giggle. “I can’t help it. I think I’ve had 17 consecutive years of exams in one shape or another.” Somewhat surprisingly, given the laboratory behind him as we speak and the very scientific qualifications he has to his name, Lowe doesn’t come from a science background. He joined the wine and spirits world one day after he turned 18, working as a bartender. He says his “very academic” family thought his choice to bartend was a phase. But, at 18, Lowe took his grandfather’s words “if a job’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well” to heart – something he still believes to this day. “I took that not just to mean if you’re going to do something, do it as best you can. But genuinely it’s a question of self value. Why waste your time doing something to a mediocre standard? There’s just no point. We’ve got a limited time on this planet, haven’t we? So I thought, if I’m going to be a bartender, I want to be really good at it.” After bartending internationally and mixing drinks for the Queen and celebrities, Lowe ran bars and restaurants for a time, before he went into distribution and then education, training more than 10,000 people worldwide. From here, the man with the voracious appetite for learning moved into production. In 2012, he set up Cambridge Distillery – which started life in his front room. Rather than use a traditional copper pot still, Lowe fashioned a vacuum still with rudimentary apparatus to distil his fresh, seasonal botanicals according to their individual needs. “The methods that we use here were literally laughed at a decade ago,” he explains. “And then they were thought a curiosity seven or eight years ago. And then a bit weird but quite interesting five years ago. To the point now where what we do here has resulted in gold medals for quality for literally every product that we have ever commercially released, and that gets some attention.” Over the past 10 years, Lowe has produced a series of world firsts. “There was no such thing as gin in Japan before I did that,” he says with pride. In order to explain to the world why it was a Japanese gin, Lowe told everybody what it was made from and now there are lots of Japanese gins. “Every single one of them is based on a recipe I created here in Cambridge,” he bristles. Lowe says a lesser man would find that very frustrating but cites a “wonderful quote that most people only know the first half of”. “You know they say imitation is the most sincerest form of flattery?” He continues, “… that mediocrity can pay to greatness”. “It’s damning with faint praise,” he adds. “We see a lot of these products come along. I made the world’s first gin out of insects. A lot of other people have tried that too. I made the world’s first gin out of truffles. A lot of other people have tried that too. But I don’t begrudge people following because that’s great – it means we’re doing things right and that is excellent. “And actually, if the whole world takes this approach of going quality-first and really aiming to make the best gin they can make, rather than the cheapest gin they can make with the best profit margins, well then we are in a good place. But, there are things I have worked really, really quite hard on in here that are outside of a patentable space, so we’ve got some very well-guarded secrets. “For example, our Truffle Gin is not just juniper and truffle. But there is only one other person in the world, other than me, who knows the full recipe for that and he’s my Head of Production.” Lowe then adds quite seriously: “and we never travel in the same car.” During our hour-long video call, Lowe sits in front of his laboratory-cum-distillery and periodically pulls props from beneath the bench upon which he sits. He jumps up to show me the oar from the Oxford/Cambridge Boat Race – coincidentally, the day Cambridge Gin officially launched in 2012, Oxford infamously broke an oar – and he repeatedly holds up A1 photographs of the distillery in its various stages of development, and his favourite prop: a miniature copper pot still. He also, much to my delight, takes me into the laboratory – with index finger to lips like a child sneaking into a room he’s not allowed to enter. The laboratory surface is lined with five small stills that look nothing like the copper pot still miniature he regularly and animatedly holds aloft. “Instead of having one big one, I’ve got lots of little ones,” he says with that smile. “One of the first things that people laughed at when we were talking about this [distillery], is they said well that’s great but you can’t scale it so it’s pointless. My point was fundamentally that actually, I wasn’t trying to prove you could scale it. I was trying to prove I could make a better gin. Well, I’ve done that. Next problem is scaling it. And, if you can't make a bigger one, just get LOADS – it’s fine,” he grins. Lowe can have five different botanicals running five different regimes at five different temperatures and five different pressures all at the same time. The resulting liquid isn’t gin, he tells me, but “lots of little threads that I have to weave together into the tapestry that becomes gin”. His, now trademarked, nine-step approach is called a novo-dimensional distillation matrix. Lowe will talk about pressure and temperature but he, for aforementioned reasons, will not discuss the other seven. He says his commercial and production team, on occasion, accuse him of having NPD Tourette’s – NPD being New Product Development. “Because I do go quickly,” he blurts out. “By the time you’ve seen a new release from us, I’m normally three or four projects further down the line.” He says they had to strike a deal because his flights of fancy are “so brilliantly fun” and he finds them “very, very engaging” – but there are commercial realities that underpin his work. For this reason, Lowe has created a triage system for new product ideas. As a general rule, if it already exists then he’s not interested – unless he thinks the product that’s out there isn’t good enough and he can improve it, in which case he’ll “just make it better and explain how it’s better and then people get to taste it for themselves”. If it’s a truly new idea, then he will ensure the new product has a purpose and reason to be. His Truffle Gin, for example, was born out of a desire to create a digestif gin – because a waiter at a Michelin-starred restaurant once remarked that there wasn’t a gin “good enough” for the digestif trolley. After months and months of reverse engineering the taste profile for a “good enough” digestif – think chocolate, tobacco, leather, tar, smoke and forest floor – Lowe released a gin that has since gone on to win countless awards. He didn’t say, but I’d hazard it also now graces that digestif trolley. Lowe is ambitious – doggedly so. He says Cambridge Distillery set out with a singular objective to be the world’s leading luxury gin producer and that his goal has always been to be the best. He’s the world’s first gin tailor, who sits with private clients for an afternoon and creates a gin based on their specification. And every product he releases wins at least a gold medal in tasting competitions. When asked how this is possible, he responds: “I taste for a living. It’s my job. I’m the best part of a quarter of a century doing this now. And, within that quarter of a century, I have been judging both wines and spirits internationally for over a decade, I’ve been teaching the Diploma at the WSET, which is the highest qualification offered by the world’s biggest wine and spirits school. I’ve also been called out by people like the IWSC and the WSET who named me one of their future 50. British Airways named me as one of their 100 modern Britons for my services to the food and drink industry. And, last year, I became the world’s first Master Distiller to also become a Master of Wine. “And I’m not just telling you this to seek the approval that I’m yet to receive from my father – the point here is that I’ve got a good palate. I’ve been working on it for a long time. And the system I use makes that palate more accurate by a factor of 10 to the power of four. And that’s why, when I release a gin, I know it will get a gold medal. Because if it isn’t a gold medal standard then I just don’t release it.” Lowe’s next qualification is a PhD in Chemical Engineering and Biotechnology on the intrinsic liquid properties of quality in wine and spirits and how they map to the extrinsic perception of quality in a range of novice, amateur and expert tasters. This, he says, could have sat in psychology, philosophy or chemistry. He chose the latter as a “challenge” because he’s “pretty strong” on the first two. “What I’m trying to do at the moment is focus my efforts,” he says. “And focus them on the things that I think are smart goals which are objectively measurable and achievable. And stretching and challenging – because I’m not interested if it’s not a challenge. “For example, let’s face it, the work that is part of that PhD is what I would be doing anyway. The PhD gives me the structure and it imposes a timeline and it brings me that focus. So it is absolutely part of my ecosystem and it works because it works. “There were times when I was trying to balance my WSET Diploma with a part-time Masters in Forensic Psychology – that was a lot harder. Very, very different subjects and I found the switch between them very stimulating. But this is absolutely all guns trained on the same target.” Lowe says he became a distiller to solve problems others hadn’t. While he is seemingly laser-focused on gin, one can’t help but feel there are problems in other spirits categories that a man of his tireless energy is just itching to solve. When the question is put to him, he says simply: “Never say never.” Thankfully, as is often the case with the Master Distiller, he elaborates: “My wife is the voice of wisdom and reason within the business. I remember once being sat at our dining room table and I had two application forms in front of me: one was for the Master of Wine and one was for the Iron Man that I was intending to do later that year. “I was looking at these two things and thinking this is going to be tough and my wife looked at me and said: ‘Will, there’s no shame in it. You can’t be elite at everything…’ and I was just about to say ‘I bet I can…’ and she finished her sentence with the words ‘at the same time’. And that was it.” When asked how he finds the time, and quite frankly, the energy, for the many things he is currently focusing on, he says: “Time isn’t something you find. It’s something that you utilise. We’ve all got 168 hours in the week and it requires discipline and prioritisation. That’s how you make your time.” And really, really good gin. Learn more about Cambridge Distillery or read more Editorial 

There are a lot of impressive people in the drinks industry, but you’d be hard pushed to find somebody quite as accomplished and personable as Master Distiller William Lowe MW. Holly Motion asks the man with the golden touch about his incredible career to date

William Lowe MW, the world’s first gin tailor, on turning the smallest distillery in the UK (Cambridge Distillery) into the golden goose.

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