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

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

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

Taking root: the rise of biodynamic winemaking in Bordeaux

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  

The beauty of Bordeaux wines is that each vintage follows the next, yet no two are ever alike. Reading back over my notes on the 2025 vintage, one thing becomes clear: one could almost write the exact opposite of 2024. In 2024, excessive rainfall during ripening forced some châteaux to delay their harvests with great care. In 2025, the situation was reversed: in the vineyards, one could almost imagine rain dances, pleading with Mother Nature to water the parched soils. Drought defines the vintage. Opposite in their development, the two vintages nevertheless converge on one point: volume. 2025 stands as the smallest vintage since 1991 – a statement that already applied to 2024. In Bordeaux, a pressing question now arises: can great, even very great vintages – as 2025 appears to be – still coexist with generous yields, as in 2016? Let us remain optimistic. 2025 is a beautiful vintage, which comes as a relief for the entire industry. Yet a deeper question lingers: does “normal” still exist in viticulture in an era of climate disruption? What was the biggest challenge for winegrowers in 2025? Eric Boissenot: Overall, the year was fairly easy from a vineyard perspective: no major disease pressure, low mildew risk, and the vines coped well with the drought—likely even better than in 2022. Thomas Duclos: Most likely, the biggest challenge was staying calm and level-headed towards the end of the growing cycle, which saw a heatwave around mid-August followed by rainfall in early September. Julien Viaud: With hindsight, this vintage was much easier than others. Spring and summer conditions were generally favourable. The greater challenge came in the cellar, where it was essential to manage the richness of the material. The fruit was abundant and concentrated, and the winemaker’s role was to be precise, measured, and restrained in order to express the very best the grapes had to offer. Could you share a few thoughts on the 2025 yields? Eric Boissenot: Yields were low, even very low. This was due, on the one hand, to limited floral initiation (resulting in fewer bunches), and on the other hand to small berry size at harvest (across all grape varieties), caused by the low rainfall throughout the vintage. Thomas Duclos: The 2025 vintage was affected by a low number of bunches—a direct consequence of the 2024 conditions (poor floral induction) combined with a dry growing season. The result is therefore low yields. Julien Viaud: Yields in 2025 were not high, mainly for physiological reasons. The issue is that both the size and number of bunches—determined the previous year within the buds—were limited from the outset. The potential was therefore already constrained. How would you describe the style of the 2025 vintage? Eric Boissenot: First of all, it is a very early vintage, shaped by a warm and dry climate. It then benefited from rainfall in late August and early September, which helped the vines manage water stress. As a result, alcohol levels remain moderate (around 13–13.5% vol) for a warm year. While it shows a warm and very ripe character, it also retains a classic, distinctly Bordeaux style that is both balanced and highly drinkable. Thomas Duclos: 2025 is a Bordeaux vintage shaped by climate change. Julien Viaud: It is a sunny vintage, but not “solar” in the sense that it allowed for ripe grapes full of fruit expression, without excessive sugar (and therefore alcohol), and without a loss of acidity (and thus freshness). It is an approachable, generous, and charming vintage, with wines bursting with aromas and delivering real pleasure. If you had to sum up 2025 in one word or a short phrase, what would you choose? Eric Boissenot: High density Thomas Duclos: Futuristic Julien Viaud: Intense and fast-paced Conclusions Reds: Well-balanced wines, showing fine concentration and the freshness so characteristic of Bordeaux—perhaps, as Julien Viaud suggests, a style the world might envy. They retain a solid yet never heavy tannic structure, resulting in wines that are both vibrant and structured. A beautiful vintage, even exceptional in certain cases. Whites: The first grapes arrived at the cellar as early as August 11. The wines are highly expressive, with good mid-palate weight and a certain creaminess. They also stand out for their freshness, which brings energy and lift. Sweet wines: When the rains came in late August / early September, the grapes were in excellent health, allowing Botrytis cinerea to develop evenly. The style is rather opulent, with lovely complexity. Bordeaux 2025 overview: A historically low-yield vintage, the smallest since 1991. A prolonged heatwave period, exceeding those of 2003 and 2022. Marked drought throughout the summer, enhancing grape concentration. Decisive rainfall at the end of August / beginning of September, helping to balance ripeness. Exceptionally early harvest, among the earliest ever recorded. Moderate alcohol levels, thanks to day/night temperature variation and late August / early September rainfall. Low pH levels, bringing freshness and tension to the wines. An extreme vintage in climate, yet precise and balanced in the glass. Rarity, freshness, and control: 2025 ticks all the boxes of a great modern Bordeaux. About Inside La Place Inside La Place is a specialist newsletter published by Roland Coiffe & Associés, offering expert commentary, vintage analysis and insider perspectives from across the Place de Bordeaux. Bordeaux 2025 Each spring, the Bordeaux En Primeur campaign gives collectors the opportunity to secure the new vintage before bottling – follow Bordeaux 2025 with FINE+RARE as our team travels to Bordeaux next week, sharing insights, producer highlights and release alerts. Explore now.

Written by Gerda Beziade of négociant Roland Coiffe & Associés, this Inside La Place piece explores the Bordeaux 2025 vintage – one of the smallest in decades – combining her analysis with insights from leading oenologists Eric Boissenot, Thomas Duclos and Julien Viaud.

Gerda Beziade explores Bordeaux 2025, with insights from leading oenologists on style, yields and quality.

Inside La Place: Bordeaux 2025 Vintage Insights 

Inside La Place: Bordeaux 2025

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

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.

A vintage earned the hard way The growing season: Pressure without pause The wines: Classical, transparent, terroir-driven Producers who rose to the challenge Positioning Burgundy 2024 A vintage to buy thoughtfully and early A vintage earned the hard way Burgundy 2024 will be remembered as one of the most testing growing seasons of the last decade. Relentless spring rain, unyielding mildew pressure, episodes of localised hail and deeply uneven flowering pushed growers to their limits. Yields collapsed across large parts of the Côte, often by 50–80%, with some domaines barely reaching 10 hl/ha. In villages such as Vosne-Romanée, Nuits-Saint-Georges, Chambolle-Musigny, Gevrey-Chambertin and Savigny-lès-Beaune, the losses were devastating. And yet, against all expectations, the wines themselves tell a different story. 2024 is not a vintage of excess or easy charm. It is a classical year, one defined by purity, freshness and an almost stubborn transparency of terroir. Many vignerons, reflecting on the wines in barrel, have drawn comparisons to 2010, 2012, 2014 and even 2016, not because the conditions were similar, but because the results are finely structured, saline, precise wines, shaped by restraint and experience rather than power. This is Burgundy at its most honest. The growing season: Pressure without pause The difficulties began early. From April through June, rainfall was almost continuous, creating ideal conditions for mildew. Even the most diligent growers were pushed to extremes. Treatment schedules doubled or even tripled: 17 passes at Georges Lignier, 22 at Charles Audoin (against a norm of 12), 17 at Pavelot, 17 again at Faiveley. Organic viticulture, in particular, was placed under immense strain. Some domaines made the painful decision to abandon organic certification mid-season in order to preserve what fruit remained. Others refused. Audoin persisted with organic practices despite catastrophic losses, sacrificing yield in favour of principle. At Domaine Lamarche, Nicole Lamarche chose to stop treatments altogether once the damage was done, preferring to let the vines recover naturally rather than force a compromised crop – a decision that may yet prove prescient for future vintages. Flowering was irregular and prolonged, leading to widespread coulure and millerandage. Localised hail compounded the damage: Audoin’s Clos du Roy in Marsannay was effectively wiped out. By early summer, it was clear that 2024 would be a year of scarcity. Then, finally, the season turned. From August onwards, conditions stabilised. Nights remained cool, days were warm but not excessive, and crucially the weather stayed dry. Harvests began between the 14th and 21st of September, slightly later for whites and Aligoté. Thanks to rigorous sorting, sanitary conditions were generally good, and what little fruit remained ripened cleanly. Alcohols settled modestly, typically between 12% and 13%. Many domaines opted for small chaptalisations to bring balance rather than richness. Acidity remained healthy, pH levels often between 3.2 and 3.6, though some, like Lignier, intervened gently to avoid excessively high pH. It was, in every sense, a vintage that had to be earned. The wines: Classical, transparent, terroir-driven Reds: Precision over power Across both the Côte de Nuits and Côte de Beaune, the reds of 2024 speak quietly but clearly. Red fruit dominates: cherry, raspberry, wild strawberry, framed by saline notes and fine, linear tannins. There is freshness rather than weight, definition rather than density. Alcohol levels rarely exceed 13%, and the balance between fruit, acidity and structure is striking. Several producers have likened the vintage to 2012 for its texture, to 2010 for its precision, or to 2016 for its harmony, though with a distinctly modern clarity. Despite the concentration imposed by low yields, these are not massive wines. Many will drink earlier than expected, yet the underlying structure suggests graceful ageing, particularly from well-sited Premier and Grand Cru vineyards. Whites: One of the vintage’s great successes If there is a consensus emerging, it is this: white Burgundy lovers should pay close attention to 2024. With pH levels often between 3.2 and 3.35 and alcohols in the 12–13% range, the whites are taut, mineral and saline, with a cut reminiscent of 2014. There is energy here, wines that feel built for the cellar rather than the tasting bench. For collectors who prize tension, definition and longevity over richness, 2024 will be a compelling proposition. Producers who rose to the challenge The defining characteristic of 2024 is not uniformity, but differentiation. This is a vintage that rewards decisiveness, experience and clarity of philosophy. At Georges Lignier in Morey-St-Denis, repeated rainfall washed away organic treatments, forcing the domaine into laborious hand-spraying. A decisive early intervention ultimately preserved yields of 24 hl/ha, dramatically higher than neighbouring vineyards at 8 hl/ha. The Clos de la Roche stands out for its generosity and classical breadth. Charles Audoin endured one of the hardest seasons in Marsannay, remaining organic through 22 treatments and losing Clos du Roy entirely to hail. The wines evoke 2010 in their purity and structure, with Les Favières emerging as a highlight. Louis Jadot, facing heavy losses and a demanding season, spoke of “fighting to keep Burgundy affordable” yet produced precise, harmonious wines – including St Aubin En Remilly, one of our favourite plots and a FINE+RARE exclusive which we are proud to secure each year, bottled only in magnum. At Hudelot-Noëllat and Fourrier, volumes are heartbreakingly small but the wines are clear, fragrant and unmistakably from their place. Paul Pernot’s whites show vibrant freshness and deep acidity, with Puligny-Montrachet Les Folatières standing out for its tension and grace.  The 2024s from Alvina Pernot combine the freshness of 2017 with the accessibility of 2021, yet offer greater depth and poise.  At A-F Gros, frost proved more damaging than mildew, reducing yields by 70%. The increasing use of Clayver amphora (now close to 50%) has brought a vivid, electric quality to the wines, particularly the Richebourg. Olivier Bernstein produced just two to four barrels per cuvée, yet the wines combine the charm of 2016 with the lift of 2017. Bonnes-Mares is especially compelling, and the domaine remains focused on deepening consumer understanding through tastings and back-vintage context. In the Côte de Beaune, Guillaume Lafon marks his first vintage fully at the helm. With almost no new oak and a preference for demi-muids, the wines prioritise purity and line. The Bourgogne Blanc is a standout, carrying a clear Lafon signature. At Domaine des Lambrays, Jacques Devauges described 2024 as “a difficult vintage with a happy end.” Yields fell sharply (16 hl/ha for Clos des Lambrays) yet the wines, made with 80% whole bunch, possess remarkable poise. His claim that “2024 Lambrays will age 100 years” may sound bold, but the structure supports the ambition. Meanwhile, Nicole Lamarche endured losses of up to 90%, producing just one barrel of Vosne Village and four of Échézeaux. As ever, the wines are spiritual and precise, and her decision to step back in the vineyard may well strengthen future vintages. Across Marsannay, Savigny and Gevrey, domaines such as Bouvier, Pavelot, Chézeaux and Hérestzyn-Mazzini all delivered wines of striking purity, often from minuscule quantities, proof that old vines, careful sorting and restraint paid dividends. Positioning Burgundy 2024 This is not a vintage built for hype. It does not trade on power or immediate seduction. Instead, its strength lies in substance. Scarcity is real, many domaines report their smallest crops in decades, but speculation misses the point. The true narrative of 2024 is integrity: who stayed the course, who adapted intelligently, and who resisted the temptation to force a result. Collectors will recognise this instinctively. The wines speak a language that Burgundy lovers understand: freshness, salinity, site expression and balance. Whites, in particular, will attract those who cherish the great classical years. Above all, 2024 stands out as a perfectly transitional vintage. While waiting for more structured years such as 2020, 2022 and 2023 to open, 2024, like 2021, offers wines that are approachable in their youth. Following the generosity of 2017, the now fully open 2019 and the fruit-forward 2021, it takes its place among vintages defined by immediate pleasure, allowing richer years the time to settle in the cellar. A vintage to buy thoughtfully and early Burgundy 2024 is a year where experience mattered more than weather, and philosophy mattered more than yield. Production is painfully low, but quality is consistent among serious growers. For collectors, the focus should be clear: Domaines with rigorous viticulture and judgement under pressure Producers refining and clarifying their stylistic identity Grand Crus from houses that embraced restraint High-performing villages such as Marsannay, Savigny and Santenay, where value remains This is a vintage whose story deserves to be told with clarity and conviction, an instructive vintage for newcomers and new buyers fortunate enough to secure a bottle, but also one that offers immediate pleasure for collectors. Read more or browse all available Burgundy 2024 en primeur. 

There are vintages that arrive fully formed, almost generously so. And then there are vintages like 2024 – years that must be wrestled from the elements, where judgement, discipline and philosophy matter as much as sunshine.

There are vintages that arrive fully formed, almost generously so. And then there are vintages like 2024. 

Burgundy 2024: vintage overview

“Il tempo è necessario“, mi dice Paul-Etienne Defaix. Dovrebbe saperlo: è la sedicesima generazione della sua famiglia a produrre vino a Chablis, e al Domaine Daniel-Etienne Defaix il tempo è tutto. 
Il vino viene prodotto al Domaine du Vieux Château (nome storico della proprietà, che ancora oggi compare sulle etichette) da otto secoli, e sotto la famiglia Defaix dal 1610. Tuttavia, molto è cambiato a Chablis negli ultimi 400 anni, e oggi la tenuta è l'ultimo baluardo dello Chablis di un tempo. 
La domanda di Chablis era in forte espansione negli anni '70 e i produttori hanno ridotto l'élevage (il tempo che il vino trascorre in botte o in vasca), imbottigliando, commercializzando e vendendo i vini prima. Questi vini moderni, spesso imbottigliati entro sei-dodici mesi, erano snelli e freschi, ma per il padre di Paul, Daniel-Etienne, erano deludenti: mancavano della complessità e della longevità dei vini che trascorrevano più tempo sui lieviti (le cellule di lievito morte). Daniel-Etienne decise di fare le cose in modo diverso, di tornare a produrre vino come facevano le generazioni passate, e la famiglia non si è più voltata indietro. 
In genere, il loro approccio è quello di lasciare che il vino sia – aspettare, osservare e aspettare ancora. La fermentazione avviene interamente con lieviti indigeni ed è particolarmente lenta, durando fino a sei mesi, mentre la fermentazione malolattica viene lasciata procedere secondo i suoi tempi, completandosi solo dopo un massimo di due anni. I loro vini Premier Cru trascorrono poi fino a nove anni sui loro lieviti fini, mentre per i Grand Cru possono arrivare fino a 15 anni, conservati a una temperatura fresca di 10-12 °C. Durante il lungo affinamento dei vini, avviene l'autolisi, ovvero la degradazione enzimatica delle cellule di lievito morte, o fecce. È lo stesso processo che avviene nello Champagne e in altri spumanti metodo classico invecchiati sui lieviti, ed è la chiave dello stile Defaix – e un tempo tradizionale – di Chablis, conferendo al vino un palato più rotondo e una complessità di pane e tostatura. È anche, per Paul, "la chiave per rivelare il terroir". Sebbene le piccole quantità di Grand Cru e Pinot Nero di Defaix vengano messe in rovere, la maggior parte dei vini viene invecchiata esclusivamente in acciaio inossidabile, il che significa che solo il luogo e il tempo si degustano in bottiglia. Una volta ritenuti pronti, i vini vengono imbottigliati e commercializzati. 
Invecchiando i suoi vini in vasche di acciaio inossidabile non per mesi, ma per anni, Defaix crea vini strutturati e complessi che vengono commercializzati solo al raggiungimento della finestra di consumo. È una ribellione, mi dice Paul, contro "una società del consumo rapido". 
Ora Paul è responsabile dei vigneti e della vinificazione della proprietà, sebbene suo padre sia ancora coinvolto nell'attività. Paul ha studiato a Beaune, maturando esperienza in una manciata di tenute – principalmente incentrate sul Pinot Nero – prima di tornare alla tenuta di famiglia, passando dalle vigne alla cantina. Come gli disse Daniel-Etienne, "Devi conoscere il tuo terreno, le tue viti, poi puoi fare il vino – e poi cercare di venderlo".
E, sebbene sia spesso lo stile di vinificazione a rubare la scena a Defaix, la tenuta vanta vigneti notevoli. La famiglia coltiva 28 ettari in totale. Ha due parcelle Grand Cru (0,15 ettari a Blanchot e 0,3 ettari a Grenouilles), ma sono i Premier Cru della proprietà ad aver costruito la sua reputazione, con quattro ettari ciascuno a Côte de Léchet e Vaillons. Da questi, producono tre vini: la loro Côte de Léchet, Les Lys e Vaillon. È importante notare che quest'ultimo è Vaillon, non Les Vaillons al plurale: la loro parcella si trova nel cuore storico di questo Premier Cru, prima della sua espansione nel 1976. Les Lys è un climat più fresco all'interno dei Vaillons più ampi, ed è spesso il nostro preferito della gamma, mentre la Côte de Léchet è decisamente ripida, con una pendenza del 45%. 
Gli ettari rimanenti sono in gran parte dedicati allo Chablis, il villaggio della tenuta, le loro Vieilles Vignes. Queste viti hanno tutte più di 45 anni, ma alcune sono molto vecchie, con radici proprie, sopravvissute alla fillossera e ora di 145 anni. Quando chiedo a Paul come questo mezzo ettaro sia riuscito a sopravvivere senza innesti, si ferma un attimo, prima di rispondere: "Penso che Dio preghi per queste viti". Raccolgono solo 15 hl/ha, ma producono frutti bellissimi ("Per la mia banca, è pessimo; per il mio vino, è perfetto!" scherza Paul) e ora vengono utilizzati per la selezione massale in tutta la tenuta. L'ultima parte della proprietà è una piccola porzione di Vaillons piantata a Pinot Nero, che viene imbottigliato come Bourgogne Rouge (poiché il terreno è classificato solo per la produzione di Chardonnay). Con una superficie inferiore a un ettaro, anche queste viti sono antiche, piantate nel 1900, e ancora sulle proprie radici. 
Le loro ampie cantine sono rifornite di annate precedenti, in affinamento accurato: una riserva di vino che attenua i capricci di ogni specifica stagione di crescita, proteggendole da drastici cali di resa, una minaccia costante a Chablis. Prendiamo il 2024, un'annata che è stata impegnativa in gran parte del nord Europa con le sue condizioni umide e l'elevata piovosità. La pressione del mare, ma a Chablis ha portato anche grandine che ha devastato vaste aree di vigneti, tra cui Vaillons. 
Il riscaldamento globale potrebbe aver facilitato la maturazione delle uve in questa regione marginale, ma ha anche favorito condizioni più estreme: alti e bassi che tengono i produttori in allerta. Ha anche, probabilmente, reso Chablis un po' meno Chablis. Con frutti più maturi, i vini sono meno rigidi, tesi e snelli. Le date di vendemmia sono inevitabilmente anticipate, osserva Paul, per preservare l'acidità e mantenere la struttura dello Chablis, ma sottolinea anche che il frutto richiede non solo la maturazione zuccherina, ma anche quella fenolica, per ottenere estratto secco e consentire ai vini di invecchiare. Per lui, lavorare con viti vecchie e basse rese è fondamentale, sia per la maturazione fenolica che per preservare lo stile di Chablis. 
L'annata 2014, la prima prodotta da Paul, è finalmente uscita dalla cantina, oltre un decennio dopo la sua produzione. È stata una lunga attesa, ma le soddisfazioni ritardate fanno parte della vita al Domaine Daniel-Etienne Defaix.

Per molti versi, il tempo si è fermato al Domaine Daniel-Etienne Defaix di Chablis. In occasione dell'uscita dell'ultima annata, abbiamo incontrato Paul-Etienne Defaix, la sedicesima generazione alla guida di uno dei più antichi indirizzi della regione.

Exploring this traditional Chablis estate and its top Premier and Grand Cru wines with 16th generation winemaker Paul-Etienne Defaix

Worth the wait, Domaine Daniel-Etienne Defaix’s Chablis wine

Vale la pena aspettare: i vini del Domaine Daniel-Etienne Defaix

L'annata 2024 a Bordeaux ha portato piogge record, ma l'annata è molto più di questo. Mentre vengono lanciati i primi vini, Sophie Thorpe racconta un anno complicato e i vini che ha prodotto.

Explore the 2024 vintage in Bordeaux and the wines it produced – looking at the growing season and style of the wines as they’re released en primeur

Bordeaux 2024 wines en primeur – vintage overview

Bordeaux 2024: panoramica dell'annata

Weingut Leth

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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).

Weingut Leth

Filtro

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