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

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

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

Wildness captured: tasting 14 vintages of Promontory

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  

Looking out across the Côte d’Or, the astute might notice a few more gaps amongst the rows of vines than normal. Dig a little deeper, listening to nervous murmurs in cellars around the region, and you’ll hear that there’s trouble below the surface – with a once-favoured rootstock the culprit.  We like to imagine the life of a Burgundian vigneron as one of the happiest in the world; a bucolic existence in the vineyards, or else surrounded by casks, vats and bottles of their gorgeous bottles. We rather enjoy the product ourselves – despite the occasional irritations of a corked or otherwise flawed bottle resulting in a failed experience. Still, the only loss is of that specific bottle. Sometimes there can be clouds in a vigneron’s life, storm clouds. A hailstorm might destroy the crop in one sector of a vineyard: that cuvée disappears off the map for a whole year, the vigneron’s work for the season destroyed in a single half hour. Or, though we have not seen this for many years, an entire vintage may be compromised by torrential rain throughout the harvest. It is hard to imagine what it can be like to lose a whole year’s crop in one go, but how much worse must it be when there is an existential threat to the life of the vine itself. Two recent threats have been the disease esca, known as the black goo in some parts of the world, and flavescence dorée. Both can bring rapid mortality to individual vines, but can be treated. Now there is a new and insidious problem to contend with: one of the key rootstocks widely used in Burgundy seems to be giving up on the job. The 161/49C rootstock has been the favourite for a generation here. The C stands for Couderc, specifically Georges Couderc who bred this rootstock as far back as 1888, shortly after it had become apparent that only vines grafted on to American non-vitis vinifera rootstocks could resist the phylloxera beetle. It is a Berlandieri x Riparia cross, designed to be relatively resistant to active limestone (very important in Burgundy), and is not over-productive: indeed, it has been such an obvious choice for producers looking for quality over quantity that it has been exceptionally widely planted in Burgundy of late. But 161/49C is giving up on its job. The failures were first seen in the south and south-west of France, and are now widespread in Burgundy. The damage was mostly done with more recent plantings: which may have given rise to the theory of the rootstock having intrinsically degenerated. However, another explanation has emerged, that the younger vines do not have deep enough root systems to be able to search out underground water, whereas the old vines with established root systems appear to be able to carry on serenely. The story is still unfolding and I doubt that we have all the answers yet. I learn from Pl@ntGrape that 161/49C is theoretically relatively resistant to drought, a view which may very well be changing. Whereas discussions with vignerons a few years ago were based around the assumption that this rootstock which had been so good was suddenly failing, as if it had run out of energy entirely or else the mother plant had contracted some sort of disease, the view most commonly heard is that this rootstock cannot manage the new hotter, drier conditions. In almost every cellar, a question about 161/49C yields a glum response. Yes, we are suffering. At first vignerons pulled out damaged vines and replaced them individually, but when each following year the losses multiplied further, the bullet of ripping out the whole plot has to be bitten – demoralising, expensive and with repercussions for years to come. You need to leave the plot fallow for at least two years (wise old heads say five to seven years) before replanting. The first mini-crop arrives three years later and the vine does not really reach maturity for 20 years. Antoine Jobard is pulling out a plot of Meursault Genevrières that he only planted in 2017. Cyrielle Rousseau adds an additional nuance: a plot of Clos de la Roche recently replanted with three separate clones, all on 161/49C rootstock is suffering much worse in relation to one of the three clones compared to the others. A further headache is that it is not clear what to plant instead. Among its close siblings – other Berlandieri x Riparia crosses – are 420A, 5BB and Teleki 5C which are all now being widely trialled in place of 161/49C: but the worry persists that these too may develop the same issues. Others are looking at 41B – quite widely used in Chablis – which dislikes drought but does not die of it according to Roger Saumaize (Pouilly-Fuissé), or 3309 which is tricky where there is a high active limestone content. François Lumpp in Givry has switched to 363 Montpellier though he noted pithily (and I have cleaned it up a bit!), “When you buy stuff that’s rubbish, you find out too late: whether it’s the cork, the barrel or the cuttings from the nursery.” Solutions will be found: a rootstock that can cope with drought, doesn’t mind a bit of limestone, is later rather than earlier ripening, and allows the vine to deliver fine quality grapes. Auditions are being held now! One thing is sure – smart producers are going to hedge their bets by settling on a mix of different options, to avoid having all their grapes in one basket. Jasper Morris – the man behind Inside Burgundy – is a Master of Wine and leading Burgundy expert, living, working and writing in the region.

Leading Burgundy expert and Inside Burgundy author Jasper Morris MW investigates a rootstock causing trouble in Burgundy

Jasper Morris MW on rootstock in Burgundy

The root of the matter

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               

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

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

Searching for Singularity in wine

Searching for Singularity

Sauternes might be the most distinctive wine on the planet. Its combination of power, unctuosity and aromatic complexity is unparalleled. These extraordinary wines consistently compete with the finest wines made anywhere in the world. But unlike most wines of the world, Sauternes’s journey from vine to bottle is a tumultuous affair. Typically, over half the crop is sacrificed in order to reach the heady levels of complexity the region is famous for. The journey from berry to bottle is one of the most fascinating molecular transformations and one of wine’s greatest miracles. Bérénice Lurton of Ch. Climens describes the process “as a sacrifice, death and resurrection all in one. It is like the rising of the phoenix,” she says. “Within the process of the grapes’ destruction is the ability for transcendence and transmutation into something else, something beautiful.” Every Sauternes vintage is a rollercoaster ride of unknowns – one that would leave most vignerons at the end of their tether. “All the rules you know about wine production: forget about them,” Lorenzo Pasquini – who recently arrived at Ch. d’Yquem – says. The grape’s reaction to its terroir, to humidity, to the process of noble rot: it’s all a gamble and, often, a gamble you lose. No one understands this game of chance better than Bérénice Lurton. The crop at Ch. Climens has been decimated in the last few years. She hasn’t made a sweet wine of any volume for five vintages in a row. Frost has become the biggest threat of late, completely wiping out the most recent 2021 crop as well as 2017. The severity of the damage to the vines in 2017 encroached on 2018 too, where coulure (poor fruit-set) and mildew also dwindled production to zero. In 2019 it was the attack of the drosophila fly that destroyed almost the entire crop, and in 2020 it was hail’s turn to wipe out production. No one in Sauternes is left untouched by the risks involved. Once – and if – your crop survives, there are several key elements to a successful vintage in Sauternes. Pasquini thinks it is best to think of Sauternes as having two ripening phases per season. The first is like any other wine region: the maturation of the grapes. The varied terroir here plays its role. The gravel and clay soils at Yquem, for instance, are vital in reducing the vigour of the vines, naturally producing small bunches of concentrated fruit. Pasquini remembers being taken into the vineyard to try the grapes when he first arrived at Yquem. “It was just incredible how tasty they were,” he says. This concentration is an essential part to the finest Sauternes. At Ch. Doisy-Daëne and Climens, it is Barsac’s limestone soil, which brings added florality, salinity, freshness and aromatic complexity to the final wine. This first phase of ripening will determine the style of vintage (rather than the final quality). Lurton describes how 1997, 2002, ’04 and ’07 were all dull summers in Bordeaux; while not great for the region’s reds, they were incredible vintages for Sauternes. The cooler temperatures produced a brighter, more acidic style with great tension. The development of botrytis following this was a great counterbalance, adding richness, intensity and aromatic complexity. “But it doesn’t have to be a cool vintage in Sauternes to be a great one,” says Lurton. Dry, sunny years like 2005, ’09 and ’15 produced a richer style of wine – with botrytis only adding to the opulence and richness of the year. Once the grapes have reached maturity, and only then, do vignerons pray for botrytis to arrive. “The botrytis plays two roles,” says Ch. Doisy-Daëne’s Jean-Jacques Dubourdieu. “Most famously it is known to digest the skin of the berry and this allows for the water evaporation from the berry, and therefore concentrates the sugar in the grape.” But Dubourdieu believes its second role is just as important, but less well known. “The botrytis causes a chemical reaction in the berry. As a way to fight the botrytis, the berry produces precursor aromatics in the grape. Depending on the maturity of the berry when the botrytis arrives, this directly affects the concentration of aromatic precursors produced.” The magic number for Dubourdieu is a potential alcohol level of 13%. “If the berry is at this level of maturity, it can produce up to 50 times the number of aromatic precursors than less mature grapes.” Once the botrytis sets in, the vignerons then pray (and there is a lot of praying) for another dry period in which the grapes can further concentrate under the effects of botrytis. This is where the wind – a key feature of Sauternes’s microclimate – becomes vital. The wind can quickly concentrate the grapes – but, depending on the varying exposures and terroirs within the region, different styles of botrytis aromatics and flavours develop adding even more complexity to the wine. “Having more botrytis grapes to choose from, creates more flavour complexity in the final blend,” says Pasquini. This is, in many ways, Yquem’s greatest asset – with 113 hectares under vine. In some vintages, quality botrytis might only be successful in one part of the vineyard, but in a great vintage there is opportunity to blend the different botrytis styles from across different microclimates for a more complex expression. This is what brings such variation in style from château to château, and vintage to vintage. Production in the last few years has been on a worrying sliding scale. The sacrifices made seem to be greater with every vintage. For a winegrowing region whose fortunes are so much in the hands of Mother Nature, is Sauternes at risk? Is there a danger that we will lose the unique conditions necessary to make these unique sweet wines? For Dubourdieu, the warming climate has, on the contrary, brought many benefits. Firstly, the grapes much more often reach 13 degrees potential alcohol before botrytis sets in, meaning there are more years in which he can craft “great” wine. His biggest concern, however, is that the climate is pushing the onset of botrytis later and later. “The 2020 is a perfect example of this,” he explains. “The grapes had reached significant maturity by the end of August, but botrytis didn’t arrive until mid-October.” The dry, warm, sunny September held off any onset of botrytis. “The danger of this is if botrytis comes too late, there won’t be enough power from the sun to concentrate the berries through the all-important evaporation process. Also there is the risk of the acidity dropping too.” Beyond mid-October, if no botrytis has formed the whole vintage could potentially be lost. Fortunately this hasn’t yet been the case, but 2020 came close – and it could become more of a threat in the future. “For now, the issue is quantity, not quality,” says Dubourdieu. “The increased levels of mildew in the summer, the hail and the spring frosts – these are our concerns.” Sauternes has had a long line of great vintages, however volumes have been decimated. Whatever the appetite in the market is, there is very little Sauternes available from the most recent vintages. There’s often a question over the appeal of these luscious wines – but Sauternes production is so limited that its audience can only ever be small. Yquem, Climens and Doisy-Daëne all describe themselves as guardians of this unique craft, rather than vignerons feeling commercially pressured to produce a drier style in greater volume. They know that for many wine enthusiasts drinking Sauternes is not a regular occurrence – but they want it to be one of the most memorable wine experiences of their lives when they do. And that’s the magic of these wines. Despite the low volumes, Pasquini, Dubourdieu and even Lurton are optimistic about Sauternes’s future. Quality has never been better and they’re in a long-term game: they look at yields over 20-year, not five-year, cycles. There is a new buzz coming from a rise in tourism in the region, while the spirits industry’s recent interest in Sauternes barrels for cask finishing is yet another alternative income (with old barrels selling for five or six times more than they bought them for), not to mention the publicity – bringing Sauternes to a whole new range of potential consumers. Unfortunately, 2021 is looking like another miniscule vintage for the region and that’s even before botrytis has arrived. But not even this dampens Dubourdieu’s mood: “If you want to control everything, you certainly wouldn’t be a vigneron. As a vigneron you learn to live with uncertainty.” For Lurton, “Living with such uncertainty keeps your feet on the ground.” As the region continues to develop, their experience of uncertainty and necessary sacrifice, Lurton believes, means Sauternes “will never lose its soul”. Discover our current Sauternes listings or read more Editorial

Producing Sauternes is a noble venture – one that often brings more risks than rewards. Gavin Smith talks to three of the region’s leading producers about the perils of crafting the world’s most sought-after sweet wines – and why it’s worth it

Exploring the perils of crafting the world’s most sought-after sweet wines with three leading Sauternes producers, Chx Climens , D’Yquem and Doisy-Daëne.

Sauternes – the great sacrifice

Sauternes: the great sacrifice

Xiao-Li Meng, professore di Statistica Whipple V. N. Jones a Harvard e fondatore e direttore responsabile di Harvard Data Science Review, si è lasciato ispirare da uno studente per combinare vino e statistica — ottenendo intuizioni ben oltre quanto entrambi si aspettassero.

From wine tastings to data science, Xiao-Li Meng explores how statistics reveals simplicity in complexity – one glass, experiment, and insight at a time.

Wine, statistics & serendipity: A Harvard journey

Semplicità nelle statistiche, complessità nel vino, il resto nei biscotti della fortuna.

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?

Elyse

United States

Account

Il Suo accesso è limitato a causa della Sua età.

Accesso vietato

Deve avere l'età legale per visualizzare questa pagina. Verifichi la sua età per accedere.

Ha l'età legale per acquistare alcolici?

A causa della quantità richiesta per la consegna, consigliamo di utilizzare una spedizione tramite terzi. Se procedi con la nostra spedizione, potrebbe esserci un ritardo rispetto alla data di spedizione selezionata.

A causa della quantità richiesta per la consegna, consigliamo di utilizzare una spedizione tramite terzi. Se procedi con la nostra spedizione, non potrai definire una data di spedizione e ti contatteremo per organizzare la consegna.

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

A causa della quantità richiesta per il ritiro, potrebbe esserci un ritardo nel soddisfare la data di ritiro richiesta.

A causa della quantità richiesta per il ritiro, non è possibile definire una data di ritiro in questa fase. Il nostro team si coordinerà con il magazzino e ti contatterà direttamente per confermare una data di ritiro adeguata.

Questo articolo è stato messo in vendita da un collezionista ed è disponibile per lo stoccaggio o per la consegna immediata

Per ordini di alto valore consigliamo la spedizione con un corriere terzo. Gli articoli spediti tramite terzi rimarranno in OWC fascettate.

A causa della quantità richiesta, non potrai selezionare una data di ritiro. Ti preghiamo di inviare la richiesta e ci coordineremo con il nostro magazzino per confermare direttamente con te la data di ritiro.

A causa della quantità richiesta, non è possibile procedere con l'acquisto. Ti preghiamo di selezionare un servizio di terze parti oppure di modificare la quantità (è consentito un massimo di 48 pezzi).

A causa della quantità richiesta, non sarà possibile selezionare una data di spedizione al checkout. Ti preghiamo di inviare la richiesta e ci coordineremo con il nostro magazzino per confermare direttamente con te la data di consegna.

Fino a 499 bottiglie in deposito, la tariffa è di 39¢/bottiglia al mese oppure un addebito mensile minimo di 50 $ (copre fino a 142 bottiglie). Per oltre 500 bottiglie, la tariffa di stoccaggio è di 35¢/bottiglia al mese.

Lo stoccaggio viene addebitato a 40 HKD per cassa da 12 bottiglie al mese. Si applica una tariffa minima mensile di stoccaggio di 80 HKD, che copre fino a 24 bottiglie.

Tariffa di stoccaggio standard

Selezionando la spedizione tramite terzi, ti assumi la piena responsabilità del rispetto di tutte le normative e autorizzi Vinfolio a trasferire gli articoli alla parte indicata nelle tue istruzioni. Gli articoli spediti tramite terzi rimarranno nel loro imballaggio originale.

Gli orari di ritiro sono tra le 8:30 e le 12:00 e tra le 13:30 e le 16:30, dal lunedì al venerdì. I vini al Will Call che non vengono ritirati entro 10 giorni lavorativi saranno trasferiti in deposito e soggetti a una tariffa di stoccaggio di 1,50 $ per bottiglia.

Gli articoli verranno reperiti e spediti al nostro deposito di vini all'avanguardia per la migliore conservazione possibile, dove potrai organizzare il ritiro presso il nostro indirizzo di magazzino a Napa.

Ritiro in sede (Napa)

Hai inserito la password errata troppe volte. Il tuo account è stato temporaneamente bloccato. Attendi cinque minuti prima di riprovare.

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).

Elyse

Filtro

Attendere prego

Articoli correlati