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

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

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

Jay Fielden on Wine, Words and Distraction

How one became another  

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

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

Bordeaux 2025 en primeur: vintage overview      

Bordeaux 2025: vintage overview               

Situata nel cuore della Côte d’Or, la collina di Corton domina il paesaggio, ma i suoi vini, soprattutto i bianchi, sono spesso sottovalutati. Abbiamo incontrato i principali produttori della zona per esplorarne il pedigree e il potenziale, tra vini potenti e di grande longevità.

Discover the pedigree and potential of the hill of Corton’s whites – the fine Chardonnay from Corton-Charlemagne, Charlemagne and Corton Blanc 

Exploring Corton-Charlemagne, Charlemagne and Corton Blanc 

Corton-Charlemagne: il Grand Cru del futuro?

Alcuni dei primi ricordi di Nicolas Champagneux riguardano la vita tra le vigne – il trambusto della vendemmia con i suoi nonni. Non è la fatica che ricorda, ma “des bons moments de famille”, mi racconta – lo spirito conviviale che pervadeva l’aria. È cresciuto nel cuore della Côte-Rôtie, trascorrendo fine settimana e vacanze nel vigneto di famiglia – un’ampia porzione di Les Grandes Places, un sito rinomato nel comune di Verenay, dove il suo bisnonno piantò le viti all’inizio del XX secolo. 
 Les Grandes Places è un sito straordinario – il produttore più famoso è probabilmente Jean-Michel Gérin. Nella parte nord della Côte Brune, in un anfiteatro esposto a sud-ovest, questo pendio scosceso ha suoli friabili di mica scistosa che permettono alle radici delle viti di penetrare profondamente nella roccia madre. È casa di alcune viti molto vecchie – come quelle centenarie coltivate da Champagneux – e produce vini di grande eleganza ma con una potenza scura e carnosa. Champagneux possiede quasi due ettari qui, detenendo le maggiori superfici. 
 Lo zio di Nicolas, André, prese in gestione il vigneto dopo i nonni, mentre suo padre Gérard andò a lavorare in fabbrica. All’epoca non c’erano abbastanza risorse per permettere a entrambi i fratelli di unirsi all’attività di famiglia, e la Côte-Rôtie non era così ricercata come oggi. A parte un paio di barrique per consumo personale, la famiglia non vinificava, coltivando il sito e vendendo quasi tutta l’uva a Guigal, uno dei nomi più famosi del Rodano settentrionale. 
 Infatti, oltre al vigneto di famiglia, Nicolas trascorse molto tempo da Guigal – dopo che suo padre Gérard lasciò la fabbrica per dirigere il loro team di viticoltura. Dai 16 anni, Nicolas lavorava lì durante le vacanze per guadagnare un po’ di soldi. Quando compì 18 anni, dovette trovarsi un lavoro: era deciso a non lavorare in ufficio e amava stare all’aria aperta, così finì per diventare elettricista ad alta tensione – lavorando con correnti di 20.000 volt. “Non eri mai nello stesso posto, ogni giorno era diverso, ogni compito era diverso – quindi non c’era monotonia”, racconta. Spesso finiva presto la giornata e – contadino nato e cresciuto, poco incline al concetto di riposo – andava ad aiutare nel vigneto di famiglia. Quando suo zio morì, non c’era nessun altro che potesse prendere in mano il domaine – così decise di farlo lui, determinato a preservare l’eredità familiare. Scelse di tenere l’uva e iniziare a produrre vino con il nome di famiglia, desideroso di vedere gli sforzi dell’anno racchiusi in bottiglia. Sapeva come lavorare le vigne ma non aveva mai sognato di diventare vignaiolo – tuttavia, senza lasciarsi scoraggiare dalla sfida, imparò sul campo. Era il 2014, e i suoi vini si sono rapidamente guadagnati una reputazione nella regione. La cantina di famiglia aveva l’essenziale, ma le prime annate furono realizzate con il minimo indispensabile – con una nuova cantina costruita nel 2016 (Yves Cuilleron ha fornito consulenza al progetto). 
 Quasi un decennio dopo aver lasciato il mondo di tralicci, trasformatori e conduttori, la vita può seguire un ciclo annuale, ma resta tutt’altro che monotona. Nicolas lavora da solo e apprezza l’indipendenza che ciò comporta – gestendo il proprio tempo ed essendo il proprio capo. “C’è ancora molto da fare e ogni anno è diverso”, mi dice. Sperando che un giorno suo figlio si unisca a lui – nato nel 2009, suo zio mise da parte una riserva di vino di quell’annata, parte della quale verrà rilasciata per il suo 20º compleanno nel 2029. 
 Il cambiamento climatico è in cima ai suoi pensieri, con vendemmie ora a inizio settembre e persino agosto, rispetto a ottobre ai tempi dello zio. Se prima faticavano a raggiungere il 13% di alcol potenziale, oggi i suoi vini si attestano spesso al 14-14,5%. Ora lavora con inerbimento, defoglia meno e utilizza una piccola parte di grappolo intero negli anni più caldi per preservare la freschezza dei vini. Per il resto, poco è cambiato nel decennio da quando ha iniziato – continua a lavorare nel modo più semplice possibile, cercando di tradurre in vino le vigne tra cui è cresciuto. Ed è esattamente ciò che fa: i vini sono eleganti espressioni di Les Grandes Places, profumati e setosi, con un fine grip tannico e una salinità sapida sottostante, invecchiando magnificamente – come ha mostrato una mini verticale delle annate 2015, 2016 e 2017. I vini di Nicolas Champagneux 
 Dalle sue quattro ettari di vigne, Nicolas Champagneux produce tre vini: un IGP Vin de Pays des Collines Rhodaniennes La Rémise e due Côte-Rôtie, Les Grandes Places e La Dédicace, tutti realizzati al 100% con Syrah. 
 La Dédicace proviene dalle viti più giovani di Les Grandes Places, con una “modesta” età media di 40-60 anni. Circa 6.000-7.000 bottiglie vengono prodotte di questo “baby” Grandes Places. 
 Les Grandes Places proviene invece dalle viti più antiche, con una media di poco superiore ai 100 anni, alcune piantate nel 1910. Solo circa 1.500 bottiglie vengono prodotte di questo vino ogni annata. 
 Entrambi i Côte-Rôtie sono vinificati esattamente nello stesso modo, per lo più diraspati con una piccola parte di grappolo intero aggiunta nelle annate più calde e fermentati con lieviti indigeni, raggiungendo un massimo di 28-30°C e restando sulle bucce per circa tre settimane. Il vino trascorre poi 20-24 mesi in vecchie botti prima dell’imbottigliamento. Nicolas Champagneux Côte-Rôtie Les Grandes Places: una degustazione verticale 
 2022 Côte-Rôtie Les Grandes Places: Pieno di intensità speziata – chiodi di garofano e cardamomo insieme a un tocco di pepe di Szechuan. Il palato offre una succosità lussureggiante, stratificata con frutta scura concentrata di ciliegia e un accenno di tapenade nera, con tannini avvolgenti e il tutto rinfrescato da una linea di vivace acidità. Un neonato ora, da avvicinare dal 2030. 
 2021 Côte-Rôtie Les Grandes Places: Un 2021 davvero notevole, equilibrato e potente, il Les Grandes Places di Champagneux ha bisogno di aria ma rivela gradualmente spezie di pepe e delicati fiori di violetta. C’è però potenza e corpo al palato – più di quanto ci si aspetterebbe dal naso elegante, con una fermezza sapida, tannini flessibili ma strutturati e acidità succosa. È scuro e meditativo, gotico nei suoi toni floreali struggenti, con un lungo finale salino e appetitoso. Da approcciare dal 2027. 
 2017 Côte-Rôtie Les Grandes Places: Il 2017 Les Grandes Places combina delicati aromi floreali con una nota ferrosa e sanguigna al naso, che introduce un palato stratificato di frutti di rovo. I tannini sono rotondi, morbidi e setosi, con un’acidità vivace che attraversa la frutta concentrata, mentre il lungo finale è profumato di pepe bianco e violette. 
 2016 Côte-Rôtie Les Grandes Places: Questo 2016 è in uno stato splendido. Incenso intenso si fonde con frutta dolce di ciliegia e un tocco di fumo al naso, conducendo a un palato in cui ci si immerge – il vino è morbido e flessuoso, con onde di frutta dolce, ma il tutto tagliato da un bordo salino e sapido. Fresco e perfettamente equilibrato, da decantare e godere ora e per il prossimo decennio. 
 2015 Côte-Rôtie Les Grandes Places: Il più austero della trilogia 2015, 2016 e 2017, questa è un’annata potente e impressionante di Les Grandes Places – con tutte le migliori caratteristiche dell’anno. Il vino è scuro e profondo, compatto e ancora sorprendentemente primario, con profumi di ciliegia nera e mora. Al palato mostra però una purezza e un’intensità straordinarie, con una qualità cristallina della frutta, abbondante acidità a bilanciare la concentrazione e tannini fermi. Note affumicate e saline persistono in bocca, con un accenno di petali floreali nel finale. Da decantare se aperto ora, ma sarà ancora migliore se saprete aspettare qualche anno. 
 Esplora tutte le attuali etichette di Nicolas Champagneux, incluse varie annate precedenti, o leggi di più sul Rodano.

Sono passati quasi dieci anni da quando Nicolas Champagneux ha preso in mano le vigne di famiglia e ha iniziato a produrre vino con il suo nome, diventando la prima generazione a farlo. Abbiamo incontrato il vignaiolo per scoprire di più sulla sua storia e sul percorso intrapreso finora.

How the talented young vigneron in Cote-Rotie has taken his family’s legacy and created a new domaine that is one of the Rhone’s most exciting 

Nicolas Champagneux – building on his birthright 

Nicolas Champagneux: costruire sul suo diritto di nascita

The Gin Renaissance, which kickstarted in 1999, showed the world that gin could be more than something that’s mixed with an insipid tonic and served at room temperature with a slice of lemon that has seen better days. For the next decade, the juniper-dominant spirit was unstoppable. At its peak in 2018, new gins were launching faster than you can say botanical and there was seemingly room for all. Until, like most trends, there wasn’t. Rather than the spectacular bubble burst many predicted, there has been a slowing down. There is still a thirst for gin – a whopping 83 million bottles were purchased in the UK alone in 2019 and the category is still in growth (24%), valued at £2.6 billion. But the tide is changing. Of the hundreds launched over the past decade, countless have fallen by the wayside. A handful  – often those with a true point of difference – have become household names.  This innovation has come in many forms and has largely focused on the addition of botanicals and distillates, neglecting the (copper-still-shaped) elephant in the room. “Gin has had a problem that went almost unnoticed for about 250 years,” Cambridge Distillery’s William Lowe MW animatedly tells me. With this declaration, the Master Distiller holds up a miniature replica of a copper pot still and says: “There are six key botanicals that will be in almost every gin you ever taste. And those are: juniper (obviously), coriander, liquorice, orris, citrus and angelica. And there’s a very simple reason for that: two and a half centuries has taught us that they operate really well in this.” He continues, pot still model in hand: “In order for that pot still to work, you have to boil the ethanol at 78.3°C. Water boils at 100°C; so, for distillation to be working, you have to operate between those two parameters. In practice, most of the time you are boiling a liquid around 90°C plus or minus 5°C. The problem with that, is it is really hot. “And if you think about the way a chef would deal with a whole array of different ingredients they have available, there’d be some things they would boil, some things they’d blanch, some things they’d grill, some things they’d cook in an oven at a low heat for a long time or a high heat for a short time, or sometimes a blow torch or sometimes a sous vide or sometimes they just pick, and place, with no heat whatsoever. “A distiller doesn’t have that choice. They have this...” [He holds up the still] “… which runs at around 90°C for an entire day.” When Lowe started the Cambridge Distillery in his front room with his wife Lucy and Labrador Darcy, in 2012, people wrote him off as a kook. His approach of distilling fresh, seasonal botanicals according to their individual needs, rather than all together at extreme temperature, was unheard of. The vacuum still he fashioned is worlds away from the copper pot still in his hand when we speak.  “I can bring the atmospheric pressure down in this unit,” he says with glee, “therefore bringing down the point at which water and ethanol and a combination of those two will boil […] I can literally boil liquids with no heat whatsoever, which starts to sound a bit mad scientist and actually it starts to look a lot more mad scientist. So, what we are able to do, is rather than putting everything into one pot at the same time, we will distil each individual item individually.” In the decade that has followed, Lowe has silenced all his critics. His gins are some of the most highly acclaimed and his distillery is a three-time recipient of the World’s Most Innovative title at the World Beverage Awards. “I’m not innovating here to be different,” he says, “I’ve got no interest in being different. We’re trying to just make things better. And if the optimal approach already existed I’d use it because it would save me a lot of time and energy. Instead, what we do, is we focus on things that have either never been done before or on approaches that have been overlooked by distillers.” These innovations have included the world’s first gin made using solely Japanese flavours, the world’s first gin made out of insects, and the world’s first gin made out of truffles. Lowe has created, and since trademarked, a nine-step approach called a novo-dimensional distillation matrix to extract maximum flavour from his chosen botanicals. He will say two of the variables are temperature and pressure, but the other seven are now a closely guarded secret after gins remarkably similar to his own – but not quite as good, he’s quick to point out – started to appear on the market. Over in Kenya, Procera is a small team adopting another radical approach to produce the first African juniper gin. Distilling legend Roger Jorgensen uses juniperus procera, the native African juniper, and distils it green – as opposed to dried – when it is bright, vegetal and alive. He also uses something other than a traditional copper pot still.  When he was introduced to the 230-litre Müller still, which he affectionately describes as the “Rolls Royce of stills” and his “baby”, Jorgensen says it changed the way he thought about distilling gin – which is quite the claim after a 27-year career in distillation. The Müller still has got infinite controls on it. Instead of a column with bubble plates on it to achieve separation, it’s got 10 metres of 600mm-wide copper plate that spirit and vapour pass over. The column, Jorgensen says, does the work of umpteen plates on another still and gives a seamless separation, driving back dense and heavy flavours, only allowing the brightest ones to come through. Namely, the African juniper.  “The juniper that is used in most gins is harvested and collected at a certain time of year but the highest-quality juniper doesn’t go into distilling,” Procera founder Guy Brennan tells me. “Distilleries are not paying the highest money. The best juniper in the world goes into food and grain stuff. And then you go down a few ranks until you get to the juniper that gets used for distilling.” Procera is the only company using the native African juniper, which Brennan says is “grade one” instead of the “grade three or four” in other gins. It is his hope that other distillers will follow suit and African juniper can become a cash crop like tea or coffee. “At the moment, African juniper has a zero dollar value, but it could be worth £100m in 10 years,” he says. “If Beefeater make an African juniper gin then there is £10m of juniper and the money goes straight to the people on the ground.” The idea to create the world’s first African juniper gin came to Brennan when he was sitting around drinking Bombay with friends. After taking a closer look at the bottle they’d held many times, Brennan and friends were struck by the irony that many of the botanicals, which hail from Africa, are shipped to London for somebody to distil and sent back to Africa as a finished product. Brennan then found Jorgensen – who he playfully calls the “distilling Yoda” – and both discovered juniperus procera. While botanicals are often the most talked about thing when it comes to gin – there’s almost a game of one-upmanship at times with who can use the most or the most extreme – few, if any, talk about the juniper, which legally has to be the prominent flavour. “We don’t want to speak negatively about other companies,” Brennan continues, “but you just don’t hear much about the juniper and there’s a reason: it all comes in 50kg bags from a commodity broker, rather than anyone having a true connection to it. Juniper makes up 90% of a gin and it should be that terroir, rather than a chilli or a citrus botanical, which defines the gin.” African juniper berries grow on a tree – rather than a bush – that is between 10-15 metres in height. The tree, which lives for hundreds of years, only grows at high altitudes (above 1,500 metres) around the equatorial zones. You can tell the juniper is in season, at the end of the short rains, when the baboons start eating it. It is earthier and nuttier than the more commonly used European juniper, juniperus communis. “If you think about it, the best juniper comes from the Mediterranean south, it doesn’t come from the Black Forest or even Scotland because it gets more sun,” Brennan says. “It’s like tomatoes from the Mediterranean: more sun, more flavour, more richness – it’s the same with juniper as well.” In addition to distilling the native juniper green, Jorgensen adopts a pillowcase technique. The Master Distiller finely grinds the botanicals and puts them into a pillowcase and soaks them in warm alcohol overnight. This “grown-up teabag” extracts the primary terroir flavours, and ensures they aren't lost during the distilling process. At Cambridge Distillery, Lowe is a staunch advocate for terroir – or as he terms it, typicity – in spirits. “The difference between the good and the great wines really is the notion of typicity and expressiveness and a sense of place and that’s universally true,” he explains. The Master Distiller points to Champagne, Burgundy and Bordeaux, and the rare whisky gems from Islay, Speyside, and more nuanced examples from Japan. “And then gin,” he says with a mischievous smile. “Well here’s a problem: juniper, coriander, liquorice, orris, citrus and angelica – there is no one place where all six of those things grow. And yet, if you just go and grab a bottle from the supermarket it will be made from juniper, coriander, liquorice, orris, citrus and angelica. Why?” He holds up the miniature copper still model. “So here we have a confirmation of our process and our philosophy. Our philosophy was simple: why can’t you make a gin that’s really from a place? And just because no-one had, it didn’t mean it couldn’t be done. It just meant no-one had done it yet.” The team at Procera is equally determined. “I’m an irreverent person,” Brennan says with a laugh. “Roger’s an irreverent person, and the team, we’re irreverent. We don’t just say let’s do things the way everyone is doing it. Because why would we use European juniper? Why do we use dry juniper? Green juniper is fundamentally better. Fresh products make better gin.” Brennan says he hopes others will adopt the same logic when they see the quality of the product and consumers’ willingness to pay more than the current glass ceiling of £40 per bottle. Something Lowe echoes: “This isn’t stuff that is being dreamt up around a boardroom. And we’ve never been in a position where we’re working down to a price point. We work up to a quality point and that’s it. “It does have the side effect that a lot of our products are more expensive than the contemporary set of gins that are out there but I’ve never been of a mind to dictate to people what’s too expensive. “I think that’s been what held these guys back for a really long time,” Lowe says with the pot still aloft. “If you ask everyone out there: are you making the best decision or are you making the most economically viable decision? They have got to be honest about it. “Flavour is a fashion. Quality is an enduring feature. And there will always be those who graduate out of these fashion cycles and come and seek quality. “I’m not in any way intimidated by what other people do around the gin industry. Either it will be part of the fashion trend, which is not our natural ecosystem, or they will join us on our mission to improve quality – and that’s got to be a good thing, hasn’t it?” Browse our range of gins or read more Editorial 

After countless headlines prophesying the end of the gin boom, the category's growth has finally slowed. Holly Motion talks to two innovators who, through reimagining the distillation process, have produced gins that should stand the test of time

Exploring life after the gin craze with two innovators who are reimagining the distillation process, Procera and Cambridge Distillery 

Two mavericks rectifying gin's biggest problem

After the craze: reinventing gin

Domaine Paul Pernot is synonymous with the appellation of Puligny-Montrachet. For the last 30 years the estate – alongside Domaine Leflaive and Domaine de Montille (previously Château de Puligny-Montrachet) – has been one of the largest shareholders in the appellation, playing a significant role in maintaining its reputation for complex, expansive, mineral-tinged Chardonnay.  Paul Pernot created his estate in the early 1950s, initially with 11 hectares, although at the time not all of it was planted to vines. It was only in the 1950s, with the invention of modern tractors, that the hard limestone rock could be penetrated for the first time, enabling more of the appellation to be planted with vines and Pernot’s acreage increased. By the early 1990s, the estate had increased its holdings to 20 hectares, including plots in the Grands Crus of Bâtard-Montrachet and Bienvenues-Bâtard-Montrachet.  Puligny – with its 230 hectares of vineyards – is considerably smaller than its neighbouring appellations, Meursault and Chassagne-Montrachet, with notably fewer vignerons fortunate to own vines in this prestigious appellation. Domaine Paul Pernot, thanks to its relative size, is therefore in an enviable position, with its production in high demand from the main négociants of Burgundy and beyond.  The estate has historically sold significant volumes, most notably to Joseph Drouhin, while keeping the cream of their crop for themselves, typically just 40% of their production. It was this that prompted Alvina Pernot to establish her own label. “My husband Philippe and I have been wanting to make our own wine for several years. As the family estate sells part of the harvest to the negociants, it seemed logical for us to start recovering part of it.”  Alvina Pernot, (granddaughter of Paul Pernot), a young vigneron born and raised in Puligny Montrachet, grew up close to the family estate, as her father and uncle managed the domaine throughout her childhood. Despite branching out on her own, Alvina Pernot still works at the family estate, managing the commercial and administrative part of the business (allocations, customer tastings, logistics, management, etc). Until last year she was also involved in the winemaking, but this year she was not able to be there as much. “Now we have reached a point where my husband and I must be completely focused on our own wines at vinification.” The quick-ripening season of 2019 made that ever clearer, as there was a rush to get the grapes picked to retain the taut traits typical of her wines.  Growing up under the guidance of such a prestigious Puligny estate was no doubt insightful for Alvina. The most important thing she learned from her father and grandfather she explains “is that exemplary work in the vineyard allows for high quality raw material. From then on, we have all the cards in our hands to make the best wine possible.” Despite the similarities in their viticultural practices, there are notable differences in the winery. “When we started, we didn't want to make a copy and paste of the domaine, but rather try to produce a wine in our image: reflecting our own vision of wine. We love the domaine wines and share the same passion of the profession, but we also love the idea of creating something for ourselves and trying new things.”  “With the smaller production levels, an extra attention to detail becomes possible,” says Alvina. She opts to hand harvest in small crates as opposed to the traditional large containers, better protecting the grapes against oxidation. During the all-important pressing stage, Alvina opts for the more traditional vertical press, rather than the more widely used modern horizontal pneumatic presses. According to Alvina, the traditional vertical presses have a distinct qualitative advantage despite losing 15 - 20% more juice than modern presses. “It reduces oxidation, provides a greater purity of juice with naturally higher acidity and therefore freshness.”  The Alvina Pernot wines have longer ageing on the lees too, right up until bottling – 11 months. In the future Alvina hopes to extend her control of élevage further, with a soon-to-be-built new winery in Puligny, allowing her, when necessary, to age the wine on the lees even longer. She and Philippe hope to have the winery up and running by the 2021 harvest.  How each of these bespoke adjustments affect the final result in bottle is an interesting experiment to explore. No doubt the wines from Domaine Paul Pernot and Alvina Pernot are distinctly different. Paul Pernot grapes are typically picked a few days later than Alvina’s on the same site, with a style very much focused on concentration and richness. Alvina’s methodology is more focused on purity and tension. To taste the wines side by side is a fascinating contrast of Puligny’s potential.  The must-try wines from each Pernot  Domaine Paul Pernot: Puligny-Montrachet, Premier Cru, Les Folatières  The historic sites Domaine Paul Pernot retains for itself is arguably some of the most prized in Puligny. The estate is lucky enough to own vines in both the Grands Crus of Bienvenues-Bâtard Montrachet and Bâtard-Montrachet, yet it is the Premier Cru Les Folatières that Alvina believes shows the Paul Pernot domaine at its best, the most representative rendition of the Folatières terroirs. “We are the largest owner of this appellation (three hectares) and the positioning of our plots (Clos des Folatières, Peux-Bois and Folatières) within the vineyard allows us to have a wine that is a true representation of the cru.”  Alvina Pernot: Meursault, Premier Cru, La Pièce sous le Bois  Alvina Pernot’s wines come from a selection of her favoured sites, belonging to the Paul Pernot estate as well as an additional site in the Puligny-Montrachet lieu-dit of Noyers Bret. Three of the Alvina Pernot Premier Cru cuvées – La Pièce sous le Bois, Les Chalumaux and Champ Gain – are at some of the highest altitudes in the Puligny and Meursault appellations. While Alvina admits it is difficult to generalise, these higher-altitude vineyards produce wines that are less opulent and more tense. There is however a noticeable difference in the Premier Cru La Pièce sous le Bois in Meursault. While the altitude brings distinct freshness, the soil is not the same limestone rock of Puligny. It is a thicker clay more typical of Meursault. Despite the altitude, the wine therefore has weight and power, but with an added freshness unusual for lower sites in Meursault and showcases the brilliant contrast of power and vibrancy Alvina brings to the appellation.  Discover more about Alvina Pernot or read more Editorial 

The Pernot family has been making wine in Puligny-Montrachet since the 1950s – but today Alvina Pernot is striking out to forge a reputation of her own. We talked to her about the decision to break away from the family domaine, and how her wines differ from those of her father  

Alvina Pernot's family has been making wine in Puligny-Montrachet since the 1950s – but today she is striking out on her own. She tells us how and why

The Pernots of Puligny

The Pernots of Puligny: a family divided by tradition and modernity

I vividly remember the first time I tasted the Alvina Pernot wines. Burgundy was bitingly cold, and we ducked beneath Alvina Pernot and her husband Philippe Abadie’s home into their make-shift cellar, then delightfully cosy (at the time warmed just enough to encourage malolactic fermentation), and a welcome retreat from the Côte d’Or’s bracing winter weather. We squeezed into the tiny cellar, edging between the barrels crammed into the space. The wines were thrilling. Taut and pure styles of modern, pinpoint, mineral Chardonnay that were – and are – hard to resist. We were tasting the 2019s, just the second vintage from the modest operation; but they’ve rapidly established themselves as one of the Côte de Beaune’s most exciting new names. Alvina – always chic, dressed immaculately, with her gleaming green eyes and delicate features – doesn’t look like the stereotypical Burgundian vigneron. You're unlikely to spy dirt under her fingernails, and I struggle to imagine her sporting a pair of overalls. But wine is in her blood. The Pernot name is one that will be familiar to Burgundy-lovers – the family is one of the largest vineyard owners in Puligny-Montrachet (just after Leflaive), and makes some of the village’s best wines. Indeed, Alvina worked for the family estate Domaine Paul Pernot for years, but the urge to break out on her own grew over time. The Paul Pernot wines are the epitome of traditional white Burgundy, round, rich and sometimes sumptuous – and Alvina and Philippe wanted to make something of their own, a leaner style that suited their palates better. In 2017, a vineyard came up for sale – and it seemed like a sign. The plot, La Rue aux Vaches, is classified as village Puligny-Montrachet, but sits just below Premier Cru Clos des Meix and Les Pucelles. The family domaine had been farming and making wine from the site for years, and the couple knew how good the fruit was. They leapt at the chance to buy it, and the Alvina Pernot project was born. They were able to buy additional fruit from Alvina’s family, and started working on sourcing grapes from other Crus. Their first release, from the 2018 vintage, totalled 8,000 bottles. It's easy to see how challenging it might have been – going from working for the family business to setting up a separate project, and bearing the weight of their legacy. Alvina and her father have very different approaches in both the vineyard and winery, which certainly comes with its challenges, as they find the fine line between family and business, negotiating a new aspect to their relationship. “I think Alvina’s father was proud that she was starting something of her own,” Philippe says, looking affectionately at his wife. Indeed, it’s taken time for Alvina to fully step away from the family business, only officially resigning in March of this year to focus on their own label. Juggling the two estates (not to mention their son Pâris, who was born at the start of 2022) hasn’t been easy, and Philippe has – until now – had to do much of the work in the winery. Yet it’s also their family ties that have given them access to such incredible vineyards – appellations that are almost impossible to secure for most newcomers.  Five vintages in, it’s amazing to see how the project has evolved. They now produce 35,000 bottles, with the range having grown from seven to 24 cuvées. The duo are so embedded in the region and well-connected that they are able to source from some of the region’s best names, securing top sites that would be the envy of most estates. In addition to La Rue aux Vaches, they now own two further plots (both of which previously belonged to Alvina’s family): Les Noyers Brets (which is next to the couple’s home, added from 2020) and La Rue de Bois (the latter the vines that surround their winery, added in 2021). The focus is increasingly on specific sites within Puligny-Montrachet, with an ever-increasing number of Premiers and Grands Crus. In 2022, for example, they bottled three different wines from Folatières – Ez Folatières, Peux Bois and Clos des Folatières; and their Bourgogne Blanc has been divided into two different bottlings from different sites. Until 2021 the wines were made at Domaine Paul Pernot (and aged under Alvina and Philippe’s house) but the couple have now finished their own winery – giving them greater capacity, but also even greater control over the wines they’re making. From better temperature control and a broader range of maturation vessels (including both glass and amphorae, alongside oak) to reducing sulphur levels and more control over bottling, it’s allowed for even more precision. Each year, they tell me, they are pushing and doing “des petits tests”, looking to tweak and see how they can improve.  Alvina and Philippe firmly believe that almost all the work has to be done in the vineyard, with farming the three plots they own a huge part of what they do. Philippe has been doing it almost entirely himself – and is relieved that they’ve just been able to hire someone to help them. But the significance of the vineyards work is also why it is so important for them to source fruit carefully from growers with similar standards, and whom they trust. As with any small producer, the challenge when it comes to farming is not just quality, but quantity. Alvina and Philippe do almost everything by hand (indeed, they don’t even own a tractor yet – and still borrow Alvina’s father’s one when they can), and sustainability is a key focus. After pruning, it’s common in Burgundy to see the horizon dotted with smoking fires, as the cuttings are burnt; Philippe and Alvina avoid this and the resulting pollution, instead using the cuttings for a mulch to further increase the organic matter in their soils. They aren’t looking to be certified organic, but avoid chemical sprays wherever possible and are doing trials with biodynamics; the risks, and costs, are the threat, however. They can’t afford to lose an entire crop, as would have happened in a vintage like 2021, should they have refused to use anything but copper and sulphur; nor do they want to have to sell their wine for five times as much as they currently do, to allow such a philosophy. Ideals can only take you so far. While 75% of the job might be done by the time the fruit is harvested, it’s all too easy – even with the very best fruit – to ruin it all in the winery. “There’s nothing minor during vinification – everything matters,” Alvina explains. “Each tiny detail makes the difference between an average wine, a good wine and an excellent one.” Although between them the duo had plenty of experience, nothing is set in stone, and each year they feel they are learning more – as they continue to question what they do and why. “It’s also important not to be too wrapped up in our little cocoon, just the two of us, but to talk honestly each year with our expert oenologist [Pierre Fonteneau] about the wines,” Philippe explains, when it comes to the winemaking. “There are three voices in the business – Alvina, me and the oenologist – and not one counts less than the others.” It’s easy to imagine that any Burgundy producer’s goal is to be a domaine – to own a prime selection of the region’s most prized sites; but for this young couple, that’s not really the aim. Alvina is set to inherit some enviable plots, but they can’t imagine giving up the opportunity to continue working with many different parcels. “The diversity of terroirs is absolutely the most interesting part for us,” they say. It’s likely their range will continue to shift – as they get access to new, exciting parcels and discover those they really love. Ultimately, however, Alvina explains, “The aim is to make wines we love, the wines we want to drink. When people are happy to be there, to share the wines with us, and to find them, we’ve done what we set out to do.” Explore all current listings from Alvina Pernot or read more about Burgundy

We’ve been following Alvina Pernot – granddaughter of Paul Pernot – since she first struck out on her own. Sophie Thorpe sat down with Alvina and her husband Philippe Abadie to talk about the wines, their philosophy and the future

As Philippe Abadie and Alvina Pernot release their fifth vintage, we look at how this fledgling wine estate in Burgundy’s Puligny-Montrachet is evolving

Five years of Puligny-Montrachet’s Alvina Pernot

The other Pernot: Puligny-Montrachet’s Alvina Pernot 

Ch. Rayas is truly special. The estate’s bottles – with their classic, simple red-and-black design and distinctive triangular neck label – command instant respect amongst afficionados.  Pure Grenache grown on the estate’s sandy soils, this remarkable Châteauneuf-du-Pape transcends its appellation. The wines are perfumed, pretty and elegant, with extraordinary finesse – reminding more of red Burgundy than the bolder wines that the Rhône is often associated with.   The Reynaud family has owned the estate since 1880, and their determined avoidance of any publicity has only increased the property’s allure. Indeed, it’s perhaps this, combined with an off-hands approach in the winery, that means they are one of the few producers to broach the fine wine-natural divide – lauded equally by more traditional fine wine drinkers and the natural wine brigade. Held back and only released once mature, in tiny allocations to markets around the world, the wines are incredibly hard to get hold of.  Earlier this year, we arranged a special dinner tasting through 22 wines from the estate – three of its rare white Châteauneuf-du-Pape and 19 vintages of the flagship red, stretching back to 1990. The vertical offered unique insight into the estate, its character shining through in each wine on show.  Indeed, it was the freshness of the wines that amazed everyone in attendance – including longtime fan and Wine Advocate Deputy Editor William Kelley – stamped on every wine.  Only 400 cases a year are made of the Châteauneuf-du-Pape Blanc, from two hectares of Clairette and Grenache Blanc, fermented and aged in old oak. White Rhône is a wine for true geeks – and this is an exceptional example – a wine about texture and minerality, almost approaching Grand Cru Chablis in its pure stoniness. Suited perfectly to pairing with all sorts of food, it was clear – even with just three vintages of this unicorn – how well it ages, the 1999 still an outstandingly fresh and fine wine.  Of course, the reds were the main event. Much to everyone’s surprise, it was the so-called “off-vintages”, years that might be deemed “lesser”, that were the most impressive – it was in these bottlings that the singularity of Rayas shone through, over-riding the character of the appellation or year.   The 2008 (given “only” 93 points by Parker back in 2012, upgraded from its original 90 in 2010) was the wine of the night for most people. By contrast, the top-rated 2009 from a blockbuster vintage was impressive, yet the vintage ever so slightly masked the Rayas style – making the wine feel more like another (very good) Châteauneuf-du-Pape.  Overall, the wines showed an effortless timelessness – drinking beautifully now, yet clearly showing the potential to evolve for another 10-15 years or more, depending on the vintage. The more mature wines might show evolution on the nose – with tertiary sous-bois notes – but on the palate, there remained a remarkable energy and vibrancy, with immense clarity of fruit. On several vintages a citrus, almost orange, note shone through, with a mineral thread and juicy acidity. Despite the undoubtedly high alcohol levels, the wines were all amazingly delicate – with no heat from the punchy ABV. And the tannins were effortlessly integrated, remarkably soft despite the structure designed for the long-haul.  Tasting through this line-up was an absolute privilege; for these rightly revered, rare wines are incredible. With no new oak, they are all about the purity and quality of fruit. They show exceptional longevity, an ethereality and easy grace that mesmerises. It’s no surprise that they are so avidly collected.  Read more about Rayas and browse all current listings

After a special vertical tasting of wines from cult producer Ch. Rayas, Senior Key Account Manager Yaron Einav reflects on the unique appeal of this singular Châteauneuf-du-Pape estate 

Exploring what makes the wines from the singular Chateauneuf-du-Pape estate Ch. Rayas so special at a vertical tasting of 22 wines stretching back to 1990

The timeless appeal of Rayas, Chateauneuf-du-Pape

Ch. Rayas: singular Châteauneuf-du-Pape

Bois Pertuis

Bordeaux (AOC)

Account

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Sembra che tu stia visitando da {country}, ti invitiamo a scoprire il nostro sito {nationality}.

Stai navigando da {country}?

Non siamo in grado di elaborare il tuo ordine se contiene sia biglietti per eventi sia un prodotto vinicolo o un distillato nella stessa transazione. Per procedere, rimuovi dal carrello i biglietti dell’evento oppure il prodotto. Potrai quindi completare l’acquisto.

Controlla il tuo carrello

Password dimenticata

Siamo nelle fasi finali dellaggiornamento alla nostra nuova piattaforma di trading. Come parte di questa transizione, stiamo attualmente migrando tutti gli inventari di proprietà dei clienti per garantire unesperienza fluida e senza interruzioni.

La nostra nuova e migliorata piattaforma sarà pronta per te venerdì 4 aprile.

Grazie per la tua pazienza — non vediamo lora di mostrarti cosa arriverà.

Ops, qualcosa è andato storto

Non abbiamo trovato nulla da mostrare qui.

Non abbiamo trovato alcun risultato da mostrare qui.

Si prega di notare: potrebbero essere applicati costi di consegna, dazi e IVA

Il nostro sito è temporaneamente in manutenzione.

Modalità manutenzione

La pre-autorizzazione di un metodo di pagamento consente al tuo Account Manager di effettuare pagamenti per tuo conto, senza verifica del pagamento.

Pre-autorizza

Questa transazione è stata bloccata per un errore di autenticazione.

Errore di autenticazione

La tua carta di pagamento è scaduta. Controlla i dati e riprova.

Carta scaduta

Fondi insufficienti per saldare l'importo. Controlla i dati e riprova.

Fondi insufficienti

Questa transazione è stata bloccata dal fornitore di pagamenti per possibile attività fraudolenta.

Transazione bloccata

Scegli un metodo di pagamento diverso e riprova.

Errore sconosciuto

mostra tutti gli articoli che attualmente conservi con noi. Questi articoli possono essere venduti, consegnati o trasferiti.

Presso {shortName}

La tua allocazione verrà annullata. Sei sicuro di voler continuare?

Il tuo articolo pre-ordinato verrà eliminato. Sei sicuro di voler continuare?

La tua richiesta di consegna verrà annullata. Sei sicuro di voler procedere?

rappresenta tutti i vini che sono in tuo possesso e che sono stati consumati.

Questo è il prezzo che hai pagato per questo articolo.

Prezzo di costo

Dopo aver aggiunto il nuovo indirizzo, verrai reindirizzato a questa pagina.

Crea un nuovo indirizzo

La tua notifica verrà eliminata. Sei sicuro di voler continuare?

Il prezzo minimo al quale sei disposto a vendere. Se il prezzo di listino scende al di sotto di questo valore, la tua inserzione verrà rimossa.

mostra tutti gli articoli che hai pre-ordinato, inclusi i vini en primeur, e tutti gli articoli nella tua watchlist.

Futures

È possibile impostare un prezzo minimo per gli articoli in vendita basato su una percentuale del valore netto unitario attuale.

Puoi impostare un prezzo di mercato per gli articoli che stai vendendo basato su una percentuale del valore netto unitario corrente.

mostra tutte le azioni che hai effettuato sugli articoli nel tuo Portafoglio.

raggruppa ogni azione per tipo - Acquisto, Vendita, Consegna e Trasferimento in entrata - così è chiaro a colpo d'occhio cosa è successo a ciascun articolo.

Storico

mostra tutti gli articoli attualmente in transito da o verso {shortName}.

In transito

La consegna locale è gratuita per ordini superiori a 1.800 HK$ (in un'unica destinazione). Per ordini inferiori a questo importo, la consegna costa 150 HK$ fino a quattro casse e 50 HK$ per ogni cassa aggiuntiva.

Le spedizioni partono da €15 in Italia e da €45 verso la Svizzera e il resto d’Europa per un massimo di 48 bottiglie (75 cl). I costi variano in base alla destinazione. Per spedizioni più grandi è possibile richiedere un preventivo.

La data indicata di seguito è quella in cui il tuo ordine verrà spedito dal nostro magazzino locale. La data di consegna finale, insieme ai dettagli completi di tracciamento, ti verrà fornita una volta che il nostro team avrà elaborato la tua richiesta.

Puoi organizzare il ritiro presso il nostro negozio al 22° piano, 8 Wyndham Street, Central Hong Kong.
Gli orari di ritiro sono dalle 9:30 alle 18:00, da lunedì a venerdì.

Puoi organizzare il ritiro presso il nostro magazzino STI INTERNAZIONALE SPA, in Viale del Lavoro 57, 37051 Bovolone, Verona.
Gli orari di ritiro sono dalle 8:30 alle 12:30 e dalle 13:30 alle 17:30, dal lunedì al venerdì. Siamo chiusi nei giorni festivi.

Questo è il valore di mercato stimato attuale per questo articolo.

I prezzi impostati manualmente verranno sovrascritti. I vini già inseriti non sono interessati.

Aggiorna tutti i vini non inseriti al prezzo di mercato corrente.

Imposta tutto al prezzo di mercato

rappresenta tutti i vini attualmente presenti nel tuo Portafoglio che non sono conservati con noi. Premi l'icona

La mia cantina

Nome

Prezzo netto

Nuovo portafoglio disponibile

Nuovo portafoglio

Non hai alcuna fattura in questo momento.

mostra tutti gli articoli del tuo Portafoglio che sono attualmente sul mercato.

In vendita

mostra tutti gli articoli attualmente presenti nel tuo Portafoglio. Da questa pagina puoi eseguire azioni individuali su di essi.

Panoramica

mostra tutti gli articoli attualmente in attesa di un'azione da parte dell'utente.

In sospeso

Questo è il prezzo di mercato dinamico dell'articolo al netto del margine di negoziazione.

Questo è l'importo del profitto che riceverai se la tua inserzione verrà venduta.

I pagamenti pre-autorizzati consentono transazioni automatiche per tuo conto, garantendo pagamenti fluidi e senza complicazioni. Questo permette di elaborare addebiti ricorrenti, abbonamenti o pagamenti programmati senza approvazione manuale ogni volta.

Il numero di casse che desideri mettere in vendita

Il tuo articolo del catalogo verrà archiviato. Sei sicuro di voler continuare?

I tuoi articoli del catalogo verranno archiviati. Sei sicuro di voler continuare?

Prima di richiedere la consegna, puoi modificare la quantità per ciascun articolo nella tua selezione qui sotto.

*Il prezzo di mercato è dinamico e può variare. Al momento della vendita, dal prezzo finale sarà detratta una commissione di negoziazione del 10%.

Prezzo di mercato totale*

Il prezzo fisso personalizzato al quale desideri vendere ciascun articolo.

Dividi in {caseSize} singole bottiglie da {bottleSize}cl.

Titolo

mostra tutti gli articoli che attualmente conservi con noi. Questi articoli possono essere venduti.

Disponibili per la vendita — gli articoli conservati con {name} sono idonei per essere inseriti nel marketplace.

Profilo

Questo articolo si trova presso FINE+RARE.

Questo articolo si trova presso FINE+RARE HOME Hong Kong, ed è disponibile per la consegna o il ritiro in sede. La maggior parte delle consegne a Hong Kong può essere effettuata entro 3 giorni lavorativi; la data esatta sarà comunicata al momento dell'organizzazione della consegna. Le consegne internazionali richiedono tempi più lunghi, ti preghiamo di contattarci per maggiori dettagli.

I vini venduti en primeur saranno rilasciati dal produttore dopo limbottigliamento, tipicamente 18 mesi dopo la fine della cosiddetta campagna. Il tuo vino sarà poi conservato da FINE+RARE in un deposito doganale fino a quando deciderai di richiederne la consegna.

Ci riforniremo di questo articolo al prezzo garantito dalla nostra rete di fornitori e organizzeremo una spedizione rapida a FINE+RARE.
 I tempi di consegna dipendono da molte variabili, ma in genere per un approvvigionamento rapido sono 2-4 settimane.
 Una volta confermato l'ordine, ti terremo aggiornato sulla data di arrivo prevista.
 Ogni articolo viene controllato all'arrivo dal nostro team di esperti e le fotografie sono disponibili su richiesta (si prega di notare che potrebbero essere applicati dei costi).

Reperiremo questo articolo attraverso la nostra rete di fornitori e ne organizzeremo la spedizione a FINE+RARE.
 I tempi di consegna dipendono da molte variabili, ma una stima media è di 6-12 settimane.
 Una volta confermato lordine, ti terremo aggiornato sulla data di arrivo prevista.
 Ogni articolo viene controllato al momento della ricezione dal nostro team di esperti, con fotografie disponibili su richiesta (si prega di notare che potrebbero essere applicati dei costi).

Bois Pertuis

Filtro

Attendere prego

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