Peat in whisky is divisive – both in terms of its intense flavour profile, but also its sustainability. It has long been used in Scotch whisky, adding complexity to the region’s spirits, but has – over the last two decades – been thrust into the limelight.  Essentially, peat is baby coal – decomposed organic matter, in particular sphagnum moss, that takes thousands of years to form. Historically, these peatlands – wetlands such as bogs and fens – were used for fuel, especially where other energy sources weren’t readily available. Slabs of peat, cut out of the ground and left to dry, were burnt, valued for their ability to (like coal) smoulder steadily. Peat would have originally been used to heat pot stills, giving off intensely scented smoke that distillers eventually looked to capture.  Today, energy sources are largely more sustainable, and peat is used in significantly smaller volumes in the kilning process. After the barley has been malted, it is kilned (essentially dried). For peated whiskies, this is done (at least in part) over a peat-fed fire, so that the barley picks up the flavours from the smoke. This barley is then milled, mashed, fermented and distilled to produce the whisky, with the peat smoke lending flavours that range from soot, smoke and asphalt to seaweed and iodine.   Peatlands have been put in the spotlight with climate change, given their incredible capacity to hold carbon – and release it. As a NatureScot report (2023) states, “Although peatlands cover less than 3% of the world’s surface, it is estimated that they store double the amount of carbon held in global forest biomass and more than 30% of the total global soil carbon store (Bonn et al., 2016). Peatlands make up some 9.5% of the UK’s land area with an estimated carbon store of over 3,200 million tonnes, of which 1,600 million tonnes are estimated to be in Scotland (Bonn et al., 2016).” But while they have an impressive ability to lock away carbon, once peatlands are damaged they release some of that carbon – and the same report estimates that degraded peatlands account for circa 13% of Scotland’s carbon emissions. (It’s worth noting that the same institution – then known as Scottish National Heritage – came under fire in 2020 for its agreement with Diageo, allowing for unlimited peat extraction on Islay.)  Peat accumulates at a mere 1mm a year, so it’s easy to see why peat extraction is a hot topic. Protecting and restoring Scotland’s peatlands are firmly on the national agenda, and in 2020, the Scottish government announced £20 million earmarked for restoration, with a commitment to invest more than £250 million by 2030. Unsurprisingly, it’s put Scotch whisky’s use of peat under the magnifying glass. In reality, a fraction (just 1%) of Scotland’s peat goes to the spirits industry – with horticulture the main culprit.  As Bruichladdich’s Head Distiller Adam Hannett says, however, it has provided “a great lens to look at what we’re doing with peatlands”. For him, “It’s about responsible extraction.” Bruichladdich’s production director is also looking at restoration projects with local farmers. In 2021, two giants of the industry announced significant projects – one from Diageo’s Johnnie Walker, partnering with the RSPB to repair wetlands, and a more ambitious pledge from Beam Suntory, with its Peatland Water Sanctuary Initiative. The project aims to restore twice the volume that the company harvests for use in whisky production, with $4 million invested by 2040. Some producers – such as Nc’nean – have sworn off peat totally, while others are moderating usage, or looking for alternatives.   In Sweden – where peatlands represent up to 20% of the entire land area, Mackmyra’s Blender Lii Johnson explains how there is strict regulation around their usage. They are one of a growing number of producers looking to use peat as another way to explore their terroir. As few producers malt and kiln their own barley today, often this is shipped from Scotland (in turn adding to distilleries’ carbon footprints). At Mackmyra, they instead use Karinmossen – local peat, harvested around 40km south of the distillery – seasoned with juniper twigs. She estimates they use a mere 0.1% of the peat bog, bringing in around 30 cubic metres per year.  Johnson feels that it is the juniper in the Karinmossen, along with the small twigs they add (picked from the woods around the distillery), which give a light citrus, almost medicinal note to their peated malts. In Seattle, Westland has pioneered using local peat, and a process with a backhoe to keep the bog intact and limit their carbon footprint. Co-Founder and Managing Director Matthew Hofmann feels the local peat brings Mezcal-like aromas to their peated whisky, Solum.   This quest for sustainability, combined with emphasis on the concept of terroir in whisky, has had interesting results at distilleries around the world. In Minnesota, Brother Justus sources peat from the Boreal Forest and has trademarked a cold-peating process to produce more delicate aromas. Tasmanian distillery Lark looks to Browns Marsh for its peat (around one cubic metre a year) and has had the International Mire Conservation Group confirm that it is having zero impact on the marsh. Others are looking to use alternatives – New Zealand’s Thomson Whisky uses manuka, while Archie Rose has looked to Australian hardwoods and, perhaps most distinctively, Iceland’s Eimverk sources sheep dung from local farms in lieu of peat.  As we’ve touched on, however, it’s not just what is used to peat malt – but how it’s used, that impacts the flavour of the final whisky. “Duration, in my opinion, is the key,” says Mackmyra’s Johnson, emphasising that it is how long the barley spends in contact with the peat smoke that influences the level of peatiness, while it is only the type of peat (or peat alternative) that will effect the nature of the peat flavour. She explains how whether the barley is peated pre- or post-break is also important: it’s most common to do pre-break, as if it is done post-break, when the barley is largely dry on the surface, it doesn’t pick up phenols – the compounds that produce peat’s smoky flavours. For Mackmyra’s peated barley, it is kilned for one day with peat and then for a second day just with hot air.  There are other factors too however – with fermentation times and cuts often a focus. While longer ferments are generally thought to engender complexity, shorter ferments preserve phenols. There are three factions to a still run – the foreshots, heart and feints. The foreshots and feints, the liquid that runs off first and last, are generally discarded, and the cuts between these determine the character of the heart. Phenols generally come late in the distillation process, so later cuts can be preferential when looking for peat character. For Mackmyra’s Extra Rok 2.0 – an extra-peated malt, they do shorter ferments and a later cut, to preserve the phenols.   It's become fashionable to talk about “ppm” in peated whisky – parts per million (perhaps familiar to wine lovers as the same term that is used for sulphur levels), to measure the level of total phenolic compounds. It’s perhaps unsurprising that the compounds are the same as those for smoke taint, including guaiacol and 4-methylguaiacol, for example, but while in the world of wine these are avoided, distillers of peated whiskies have competed to produce the spirit with the highest. This race to make the peatiest whisky possible was arguably inspired by Compass Box’s Peat Monster (first produced in 2003), building to and culminating with Bruichladdich’s Octomore 8.3 (released in 2017) – a whisky with a remarkable 309ppm, the highest level measured to date (compare this to the first Octomore release which had 131ppm). In this frenzied period, Ardbeg’s Dr Bill Lumsden even buried a barrel of peated whisky in a peat bog (which was released as an NFT in 2022, Ardbeg Fon Fhòid). But while one number is an easy way for whisky drinkers to grasp how peaty a spirit is, not everyone believes it’s helpful.  “We don’t like to talk about those numbers,” says Johnson. She explains how ppms are somewhat farcical, in her view. When the reading is taken varies from distillery to distillery, and therefore provides something that is almost impossible to compare. While most are taken at the mashbill stage, if you are later blending, it’s an estimate at best. Not only that, but the make-up of the phenolic compounds will influence how peaty one 100ppm whisky is versus another 100ppm whisky. For Mackmyra, their pure peated malt sits at around 300ppm, but the mashbill for their peated and extra peated whiskies are respectively around 70 and 140ppm, Johnson reluctantly tells me. The level of phenols can also vary significantly between batches of barley – and at Mackmyra they aim to combat this by doing one kilning a year, distilling all their peated whisky at once and blending the batches to create a consistent product.  It's almost for this exact reason that Bruichladdich created Octomore, Head Distiller Adam Hannett explains. The project’s numbered releases have significantly different levels of peatiness, and were a project inspired by their curiosity to see how far they could push the peat level, as well as their partnership with Bairds maltings, who had batches of barley with irregular phenol numbers.   Although peat is intrinsically associated with Islay’s malts, things aren’t as clear-cut today – and as Hannett says, “You can’t categorise flavour by region”. Islay-based Bruichladdich produces both peated and unpeated whiskies. Originally the distillery made heavily peated malts, switching to unpeated styles in the 1960s, and today makes both. Its Port Charlotte brand was first conceived to capture what Bruichladdich would have been like in the old days, as a heavily peated malt. Intriguingly, Bruichladdich briefly tried using Islay peat, however found that they couldn’t get the phenol levels as high. Hannett highlights that another element in phenol levels is the depth the peat is cut from – with lower levels having more vegetation and therefore more phenols.  For Bruichladdich, when they’re looking for an overtly peated spirit, the quality of the underlying spirit is key – working with the right barley and fermentation times, for example. While peated malts might be thought of as heavy, oily and medicinal, they try to avoid this character. He deliberately won’t delay making a cut in the name of phenols, with that decision based on quality – and the result, he feels, is that, “The essence of the peat smoke is light – it’s barbecued.” For him, it’s about the balance between the peat character and everything else.  For blending specialists, House of Hazelwood, peated whisky “is a tool in our arsenal we can use to build a complex blend”, says Eilidh Muir from their Whisky Blending Team. She emphasises that using peat doesn’t necessarily equate to a smoky whisky, but can contribute something to a blend that is much harder to pin down – but something you’d notice if it wasn’t there. “A whisky dominated by a single flavour is often too one-dimensional,” she says – they too are looking for that fine balance.  Peat is just one element that can be used to shape a spirit – and there remains a certain amount of mystery to its influence. The sustainability question isn’t going away, but – as Bruichladdich’s Hannett says, “I don’t know what the solution is at the moment… but we’re looking for one.” As producers look for an answer, they’re pushing boundaries – experimenting with local sources and alternatives – something that will only benefit whisky-lovers, and the environment.  Browse a range of peated whisky or read more about spirits 

Iodine, seaweed, soot and smoke: for some, peat’s trademark tasting notes are off-putting, for others they’re the pinnacle of fine whisky. Sophie Thorpe spoke to Bruichladdich, House of Hazelwood and Mackmyra about peat, ppms, its potential sustainability problem, how it’s being used today

Bruichladdich, House of Hazelwood and Mackmyra on peat – how it’s used, whether it’s sustainable and the alternatives being employed in whisky today

How whisky distillers are using peat today

The big smoke: peat and whisky

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

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

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

The Balvenie, making of a master

The Balvenie: the making of a master

Montrachet, Chambertin, Richebourg: these names will send chills down the spine of any Burgundy lover. But many of the Côte d’Or’s most famous domaines are looking beyond these grand names, making wines from vineyards and appellations that might otherwise fly under the radar. With reputations at stake, the likes of Domaine d’Auvenay, Coche-Dury and Bizot put as much effort and care into these “lowly” wines as for their Grands Crus. Quality in these appellations is soaring – with better vine material, cooler sites that are benefitting from the warming climate, not to mention better winemaking and know-how all contributing. Here we offer a guide to just a handful of the treasures to be found in Burgundy if you look a bit further afield. Auxey-Duresses Right in the middle of the Côte de Beaune, Auxey-Duresses is a small, sleepy village situated above Meursault. Prior to AC regulations, the white wines of Auxey-Duresses were sold as Meursault and the Pinots sold as Pommard or Volnay. While probably better known for Pinot Noir production, some of its top wines are Chardonnays made in a specific part of the appellation directly bordering Meursault.  Here, high up on the hill, over the brow of Meursault’s highest vineyards you will find vineyards facing unusually north-west. While these vineyards are too cool to adequately ripen Pinot Noir, they have proven to be a great climate for Chardonnay, particularly in today’s warming climate. In a warm vintage, the whites can give the top Meursault vineyards a run for their money. Domaine Leroy, one of Burgundy’s most eminent estates run by Madam Lalou Bize-Leroy, has holdings in this part of Auxey-Duresses in Les Lavières, while Domaine d’Auvenay also regularly produces an Auxey-Duresses Blanc on this particular northwest-facing slope from the vineyards of La Macabrée and Les Boutonniers. Depending on volumes D’Auvenay can produce three separate Auxey-Duresses Blanc cuvées in one vintage or if volumes are down will blend into one. While these are expensive options, the quality is undoubtedly there and this is a great lesser-known spot in the Côte d’Or to source outstanding Chardonnay, particularly in warmer vintages.  Domaine Roulot, Olivier Leflaive and a Jasper Morris MW favourite Domaine Diconne (which has vines dating back to 1924) also produce excellent Auxey-Duresses Blanc on these slopes adjacent to Meursault. While stricter in style than their neighbours, they remain fantastic value. For reds, Domaine Comte Armand’s Premier Cru Auxey-Duresses is another great buy. Made from two complimentary Premier Cru sites – La Duresses (whose brown clay soil brings density and tannic structure) and Les Breterins (on lighter soil bringing fruitiness) combine to make a fabulous Auxey-Duresses well worth discovering. Monthélie Next door to Auxey-Duresses, sandwiched in between Meursault and Volnay, is another lesser-known appellation which has an impressive line-up of producers on its roster. Comtes Lafon, Coche-Dury, Philippe Pacalet, Domaine Roulot and Leroy all produce Pinot Noir from this little, oft-forgotten appellation.  Monthélie is actually one of Bize-Leroy’s favourite appellations for her Maison Leroy selection. Historically, Monthélie tended to produce Gamay more than Pinot Noir, but that is not the case today. While the village wines tend to be a little lean and err too far towards vegetal flavours, the Premiers Crus within the appellation deserve much more attention. Domaine Coche-Dury produces a Premier Cru Les Barbières, while Comtes Lafon’s Premier Cru is in Les Champs Fulliot.  Both have full south exposure, enabling the wines to ripen fully even at higher Hautes-Côtes-like altitudes. In the warmer vintages, you could be justly rewarded for sourcing wines from this under-appreciated little corner of Burgundy. Monthélie is also home to Domaine Potinet-Ampeau, whose collection of older bottlings can wow the senses, provides a fascinating and educational insight into mature Burgundy. Pernand-Vergelesses Few Chardonnay appellations in the Côte d’Or are as underrated as Pernand-Vergelesses. Proximity to Corton-Charlemagne makes this unsurprising. This winemaking enclave, tucked behind the hill of Corton, has long been a consistent appellation where you find outstanding quality at a fantastic price.  While consistent in quality, it is often inconsistent in quantity due to its position between two rising hills. The lay of the land produces natural airflow that attracts hailstorms and is also susceptible to frost as cold air sits in this natural pocket of vineyards. If the region escapes these climatic perils, the Chardonnays are linear and have a flinty, mineral character. The wines can age well, gaining richness as they mature. A top producer of particular note is Domaine Rapet – of whom Wine Advocate critic William Kelley recently noted, “It’s a mystery these wines are not better known or distributed.” Being the biggest landowner of Corton-Charlemagne, they are one of the region’s most consistent white wine producers. Domaine Chandon de Brailles (based in Savigny-lès-Beaune) is also widely recognised for producing the best Pinot Noir in the appellation.  Their Pernand-Vergelesses Premier Cru Ile de Vergelesses regularly competes with top Pinot Noirs made in the more famous appellations and is often described as one of Burgundy’s bargains given the quality. Other better-known producers such as Dugat-Py and a more recent purchase in 2012 by Domaine Jean-Claude Ramonet (one of the world’s top Chardonnay producers) – testify to the quality found here. Perennial FINE+RARE favourite, Domaine Jean-Marc & Hugues Pavelot, also produce outstanding Chardonnay from Pernand-Vergelesses. Morey-Saint-Denis While Morey-Saint-Denis can hardly be described as under the radar, it continues to be undervalued amongst its neighbours despite its obvious pedigree. Morey-Saint-Denis’s prime location in the Côte d’Or sandwiched between Gevrey-Chambertin and Chambolle-Musigny, for some reason – despite being home to five Grands Crus (Clos de la Roche, Clos de Tart, Bonnes Mares, Clos des Lambrays and Clos St Denis) – never gets the same limelight as either of its neighbours.  It’s possible to blame the autonomous nomenclature of its Grands Crus – with only Clos St Denis having a clear link to the village. It has meant that Morey-Saint-Denis as an appellation is seen as somewhat lesser in quality than its neighbours. Another reason might be that, like Auxey-Duresses, before the AC regulations came into play, the wines of Morey-Saint-Denis were either sold as Gevrey-Chambertin or Chambolle-Musigny.  Outside the Grands Crus, our excellent recent discovery is Domaine René Bouvier. Their  Morey-Saint-Denis En la Rue de Vergy is a simply stunning Pinot Noir no matter where it is from. While only classified as village, this vineyard is surrounded by Morey-Saint-Denis’s most illustrious Grands Crus – Clos des Lambrays, Clos de Tart and Bonnes-Mares – on the border with Chambolle-Musigny. In a sunny vintage, this cooler site has excelled and remains one of the great value-buys of 2019. Chassagne-Montrachet Rouge It is not simply lesser-known appellations that get missed. While its Chardonnays get all the attention today, Chassagne-Montrachet was historically a Pinot Noir appellation (as was Meursault). Today, Pinot Noir only represents about 20% of production within the Chassagne-Montrachet Premiers Crus, but until the 1960s, the appellation was dominated by the red grape. Some of the top Pinot Noir sites here were judged to be as good as Musigny, Clos de la Roche and Clos de Tart. Today Chardonnay is the better variety in the village, but there are still top examples of Pinot Noir to be found – often at a great price for the quality. The red wines from the Clos Saint Jean Premier Cru are often described as a unique expression of Pinot Noir – a wine of fantastic finesse, quite at odds with the appellation’s reputation for robust reds. It is arguably the finest site for red wine in Chassagne-Montrachet. Jean-Claude Ramonet produces a top example and Premier Cru La Boudriotte is also great, if not a little leaner in style. Marsannay Most Burgundy buyers rarely explore further north than Gevrey-Chambertin in search of the next big thing, but all indications point in that direction. Marsannay was only given appellation contrôlée status in 1987, encompassing three districts of Chenôve (on the outskirts of Dijon’s urban sprawl), Marsannay La Côte and Couchey.  Unique to the appellations of Burgundy, Marsannay can produce a rosé wine from Pinot Noir.  The foundation for the village’s reputation, many vineyards within the appellation are dedicated exclusively to rosé production. If a red wine is made in these vineyards, it must be declassified to Bourgogne Rouge). While Sylvain Pataille and René Bouvier make the most serious and age-worthy rosés in the appellation, the whites and reds are arguably the most exciting development in recent times. The village of Marsannay is arguably producing the best Pinot Noir for the money in the whole of Burgundy. Cult producers such as Domaine Bizot with Jean-Yves Bizot’s Marsannay Clos du Roy and his Bourgogne Le Chapitre, situated just south of Dijon, are already on aficionado's radars.  These wines are made in tiny quantities and has only further increased the collectability of these wines made in a distinct style (100% whole-bunch fermentations and zero sulphur additions). If sourcing Bizot wines is too painstaking and out of one’s budget, there are plenty of other exceptional growers in this region. Domaine Audoin is producing outstanding Premier Cru Marsannay that can compete with some of the top Gevrey bottlings and the wines still remain fantastic value. Domaine René Bouvier also makes exceptional wines from Marsannay. Côte Chalonnaise: Givry, Montagny and Rully Outside the Côte d’Or, to the south in the Côte Chalonnaise, Mercurey dominates the limelight compared to neighbouring appellations Rully, Montagny and Givry. When handled correctly, however, Givry, can produce fantastic, powerful Pinot Noir that also offers finesse. Rully and Montagny are also a great source of Chardonnay and remain outstanding value.  Montagny only produces Chardonnay – the top producers being Domaine Stéphane Aladame, Domaine Bruno Lorenzon and Domaine Maxime Cottenceau. Rully produces white and red, but the domaine's Chardonnay represents one of Burgundy’s best-value white wines. Producers worth looking out for include Domaine Jaeger-Defaix and Domaine Vincent Dureuil-Janthial. Domaine Joblot is the leading producer in Givry. Their wines consistently compete with those in the Côte d’Or, a beacon for the appellation’s reputation, yet remain sensibly priced. Of the estate’s 14 hectares, nine are Premier Cru, including some of the village’s finest plots such as Clos de la Servoisine and Cellier aux Moines.  L’Empreinte –  a blend of their four red Premier Cru sites (Clos de la Servoisine, Cellier  aux Moines,  Clos  Marole  and  Les Bois  Chevaux – is the property’s top wine. The white, Cuvée Mademoiselle, is a blend of  their  older-vine  Premier Cru  Chardonnay from  En  Veau  and  Clos de la  Servoisine. Joblot is rightfully praised by the likes of Clive Coates MW,  Robert Parker, Allen Meadows and Jasper Morris MW for being the leading address in Givry and one of the greatest estates in Burgundy. Hautes-Côtes de Nuits Situated over the brow of the main Côte d’Or slope and further to the west are the vineyards classified as the Hautes-Côtes (the higher slopes) of the Côte de Nuits. Typically around 100 metres higher in altitude, only the southwest and southeast slopes are warm enough to ripen grapes, but geologically parts of the region are identical to the Côte d’Or.  With warmer vintages, quality here is greatly improving and you can find some outstanding wines at a great price. Two top examples of this come from Vosne-Romanée’s Domaine Gros Frère & Sœur and Domaine David Duband. Both estates have invested heavily in the region believing in the potential of these cooler sites in a warming climate. Aubert de Villaine’s Domaine de la Romanée-Conti also produces an Hautes-Côtes de Nuits Blanc, from grapes grown on the slopes below the historic Abbaye de Saint Vivant. Browse all Burgundy listings or read more Editorial

While the Grands Crus and top villages steal the headlines, often with eye-watering pricing to match, there is so much more to discover in the Côte d’Or. We explore a few of the lesser-known appellations being exploited by some of Burgundy’s grandest producers

lesser-known, best vlue wine appellations of the Côte d’Or: Auxey-Duresses, Monthélie, Pernand-Vergelesses, Marsannay, Côte Chalonnaise: Givry, Montagny Rully

Wine discoveries off the beaten track in Burgundy

Off the beaten track in Burgundy

The name Andrew Rankin might not mean much to the average whisky drinker. But mention him to the whisky world – the one that exists behind the public glare, and is largely reliant on lasting relationships and mutual respect – and there’ll be little doubt who you’re referring to.   Throughout his career, Rankin has worked for two of the biggest names in the industry: Chivas Brothers and Morrison Bowmore. When we speak, on an overcast Monday in early November, he tells me it’s 47 years to the day that he joined the ranks as a trainee blender at Chivas.  It’s hard to imagine a wet-behind-the-ears Rankin embarking on his “old-fashioned proper blending training”. He remembers those days fondly, tasting hundreds of different distillates – including malts and grains from Scotland and the US – from the vast library, and getting stuck in with every aspect of the production process from distillation to the vatting and cask dumping. It wasn’t long before the young Rankin found his passion: casks.   “There was a lot of not-very-good wood filled in the industry way back in the 1970s and ’80s,” he tells me. “Even in those early days, I pushed to get some better quality wood in the system.”   Rankin learned from the old guard at Chivas who’d spent their life in the industry. In the early 1990s, he moved to Morrison Bowmore in a General Manager role, concentrating on blending, inventory management and, most importantly, cask trading. He spent 22 “lovely years” at the company until his position became untenable when Suntory (“in their infinite wisdom”, Rankin says wryly) decided to buy Morrison Bowmore’s owners Beam in 2014.   Rankin says the whole dynamic changed overnight and the decision to move global management of all spirits – including whisky – under American management in Chicago was the final straw for him, Chief Executive Mike Keiller and Finance Director Douglas Crawford, who all walked that same year. Rankin says he “doesn’t want to get into it all” but does say part of his motivation to leave was the fact he didn’t want to work for an American-managed company that late in his career – having already experienced a similar takeover with Chivas and Seagram many years earlier.   Rankin is a loquacious Scotsman. When you land on the right subject, he can talk endlessly with such knowledge and humour that it’s easy to lose track of time. In fact, when a small team from FINE+RARE visited his new distillery project, Ardross, in August, we did just that. One thing he doesn’t talk about, without great coaxing, is his immense success. This includes but is in no way limited to his work on Bowmore Black, the Trilogy releases, and the 50-year-old. He is a humble man, and has quite intentionally stepped back from the limelight, while some of his counterparts have been drawn to it.   Since setting up his own company in 2014, Rankin has not stopped working. Undoubtedly his biggest project has been Ardross, a new distillery in the Scottish Highlands. Rankin was given the mandate (and a healthy budget of £30m) to find a home for the new distillery by Ardross Single Cask Society founder Barth Brosseau. He found the dilapidated 50-acre site, which was formerly a farm, with its own seven-acre loch and moved heaven and earth to turn it into the stunning distillery we see today.   Rankin says the project has, and continues to be, “much much bigger” than he originally anticipated, and what started out as a little tree constantly grows branches all over the place. But, he says, it has been his biggest achievement to date.   The latest unwieldy branch is a second, small-batch distillery that is being built on the Ardross site, destined to become the Creative Suite – exclusively for Single Cask Society Members’ use. Once completed, it will be capable of producing 250 casks a year of almost any style of whisky that a Society Member could desire. When it is up and running, likely by the end of next year, Society members will be able to call Rankin or visit him at the distillery to discuss their requirements. He will advise them on certain elements and Sandy Jamieson – Ardross’s Distillery Manager with near-50 years’ experience, and hands-down one of the most hospitable people you will meet – will get involved in the “nittier grittier side of the distillation”.  “Society members have the flexibility of different malt styles, of different grain stills, of different blend styles, and the multi-cask options that we’ll have available,” Rankin says. “But always without getting to the gimmicky stage,” he adds gravely.   This is a word that comes up a lot in our conversations – “gimmicky”. Rankin is, by his own admission, a traditionalist and has baulked at the changes in the whisky industry over the past 47 years.    “In my mind, a gimmicky type thing that lets you say we were the first in the world to do x only lasts a day and then it’s old news,” he says. “So everything we do falls within traditional methods – but pushing the boundaries a wee bit in terms of the styles of whisky.”  After spending a number of hours with Rankin, you can tell he’s not the type to mince his words – his standards are exacting, and he’s been around the block enough times to know when he’s being sold a pony. For these reasons, and many more, he’s unafraid to tell Brosseau – who he on occasion butts heads with – and Society members what he thinks.      It’s this straight-talking, mixed with an unwavering sense of tradition, that has stood him in such good stead throughout his career. Relationships formed over the past four decades have been vital to getting Ardross off the ground and saved his bacon – and the whisky producers he’s worked for – countless times.   “I always made it my policy to not sit on the end of the phone negotiating prices or volumes never having met the person that’s at the other end,” he tells me. “I’ve made it a policy that we’d go and visit all the major suppliers. We’d have dinner with them. We’d get to know them.”  When Rankin first started visiting Kentucky – a place he has a real fondness for and has undoubtedly influenced elements of the Ardross build – the state was just coming back from a real depression. He got to know a lot of people in the cooperages and distilleries, and many of these relationships last to this day. You sense it is this longevity and being around throughout hardship that has fortified these ties. The same is likely true of Japan. Enviably, Rankin has a relationship with one of the oldest independent cooperages in Japan, from whom he sources a steady amount of the mystical Mizunara cask – something many producers would give their right arm for. As quite a coup, Ardross filled some of its first runs of new-make spirit into Mizunara in 2020.   Rankin is too humble to go into detail but he does say these relationships have proven useful over the years. “If barley is in short supply, which it was not that many years ago,” he says, “because of our relationship, we would always get priority. If casks were in short supply, we’d always get the priority.”   Sadly, this way of working is something Rankin sees diminishing in most industries. “Everything is done via Zoom and telephone and internet now,” he bemoans. “Having listened to some of COP26, the environmentalists will say that’s a good thing, you’re not using air travel, but there has got to be a balance.”  Another change Rankin “isn’t keen on” is “the quest to get something different all the time”. “All the limited releases,” he says downcast. “The best limited release now is the standard edition because [producers] push everything else and don’t push the standard edition,” he only half jokes.  “Make no mistake, Barth and I have had a lot of serious heated discussions on various things like all the different wines and tequila [finishes]. It’s not traditional,” he says impassioned. “Why would we want to put a perfectly good product into a cask that’s had tequila maturing for six months?”   He pauses for what seems like an eternity, and I’m unsure if he wants an answer, before he, mercifully, continues: “I ask the question and I’ll get the response that it’s what the modern market wants. To which I respond: ‘says who?’”  Throughout his career, Rankin says he’s always stuck to the more traditional casks, like Sherry and Port. But he’s quick to say that the market is a minefield, and you need to proceed with caution as producers are often offloading casks for a reason.   “Even Port is one that would be low down of my list of things to use,” he says. “Because historically, Port producers don’t generate a lot of casks. They only generate them when they are clearing a warehouse out. The casks will be sold to people in the whisky industry when there is absolutely no maturation left in them at all, so you’re achieving nothing by finishing in those types of casks.”   Rankin says the only chance you have of producing a decent whisky, or at the very least not ruining the good one you’ve got, is to deal with certain individuals who will give you a cask that’s not spent.   He tells me some horror stories from the Glasgow facility where he warehouses and oversees cask operations. “We see some of the casks come in, and we’ve gotta send it back. They’ll say the Sherry casks are new. They’re not. They are probably the oldest casks that have been lying in that bodega. I have to say to the client, ‘Trust me, you’ll lose half your whisky because it’s not good wood, it’s very porous-looking, the smell inside them is slightly sour and you can’t get rid of that. But, it’s your gamble’.” Unsurprisingly, they heed his advice and make another call pretty sharpish.   He adds: “You’ve just got to know what you’re looking for and be careful. Because you can ruin a perfectly good whisky.”   It’s rare to meet somebody with such candour in or out of the whisky industry. Hand on heart, I can’t think of a person I’d rather entrust to guide me when deciding what to do with my whisky.   Learn more about Ardross or read more Editorial 

After working as Master Blender for some of the biggest names in the industry, Andrew Rankin knows a thing or two about good whisky – and good casks. He tells Holly Motion why strong relationships and traditional values are far more important to him than being a whisky personality

The ex-Bowmore Master Blender Andrew Rankin talks about working for some of the biggest names in the whisky industry and tells us why relationships are key.

Ex-Bowmore Master Blender Andrew Rankin on casks

The great Scotsman

A year after we went into lockdown, it’s hard to believe we’re still here. At the start of 2020, we were blissfully ignorant about facemasks, hand sanitiser and Zoom – but in a year the world has changed. And the wine trade with it.  Our business revolves not just around the conviviality of sharing good wine with good food, and – most importantly – good company, but on tasting. And the way we’ve tasted – flitting from producer to producer, swanning about in crowded rooms, sipping, swilling and spitting into communal spittoons – is a Covid-19 nightmare.  Of course, we’ve adapted. Bemused couriers now ferry miniature bottles of the latest releases to our team – fascinated by the welcome smiles of those delighted to be receiving a drop of the latest fine wine releases. We’ve (mostly) mastered the mute/unmute for team tastings, managing to find a way to gather virtually, sampling and discussing the precious liquid that is the life-force of our industry. It’s even opened our doors a little wider – allowing our entire team to walk (digitally, at least) amongst the vines at Castello di Ama, for us to soar over the mountains at Promontory, and talk to winemakers far and wide with just the power of an internet connection.   But at this time of year, we’re once more looking ahead to Bordeaux en primeur – the busiest time for our team, when the world’s most prestigious addresses release the nascent new vintage unto the world. Last year’s campaign was unusual: the spring’s uncertainty meant it started in a haze of clamours for the whole thing to be postponed or cancelled. It was rapidly clear that the en primeur week – when the world’s wine trade gathers in Bordeaux to taste the new vintage – wouldn’t be possible, but that didn’t stop the show going on. Instead samples were sent around the world, tasted in kitchens, offices and garden sheds rather than the glamour of Bordeaux’s Classed Growth châteaux. A little later than normal, the campaign proceeded as normal.  Now we find ourselves in a worryingly similar situation, planning for a Covid-era campaign for the 2020s. It looks increasingly unlikely – with a third wave sweeping through France – that we’ll be able to make it to Bordeaux (although we’re trying our best), and if we do that it will be only with a much smaller team. In any other year, we’d have just returned from our first trip to get a feel for the vintage, preparing for a bigger team to go out for en primeur “proper”.  The challenge with en primeur, in particular, is the fragility of these young wines. Drawn from barrel, not yet fully formed, these are relatively unstable samples, not yet braced for a rollicking world-tour. Tasting at a property, with the winemaker, means that everyone tastes the same wine – the wine at its very best, not a bottle that, perhaps, suffered a little on the journey, or has had the fruit dulled by a dose of sulphur to sturdy it for its voyage. When you think about the pressure for these bottles to perform, it’s no surprise that the Rothschild stable opted last year to fly in samples via private jet for an exclusive no-expense-spared tasting at Waddesdon Manor.  For us, at least, the 2019s almost all showed superbly, with 99% living up to their potential – allaying our concerns regarding the delicacy of these Bordelais babes-in-arms.  Of course tasting in the UK also comes with its pros – many of which were well-documented in the wake of last year’s campaign. Rather than rushing from one property to another, it’s possible to linger a little longer over a wine. To revisit it. You can taste – and re-taste – in comparative flights, rather than depending on your tasting memory.   And – while it might not be nearly as fun as a whirlwind week of wining and dining – it’s that assessment which is key. We – and you – depend on us tasting the wines, forming our view of the vintage, to recommend the wines that deserve a place in your cellar.  This year, we are basing our plan on tastings in both Hong Kong and the UK, with samples shipped to our offices, tasted as soon as possible after their arrival. We’ll be tasting in shifts to ensure social distancing, Zooming in winemakers to dig into the conditions and decisions that shaped the wines. It might lack the sheen and sheer fun of traditional en primeur, but the show will go on.   Learn more about Bordeaux or read more Editorial 

Each spring, the wine trade’s eyes turn to Bordeaux for en primeur. But – once more – the campaign looks to be shackled by Covid-19. Here, we look ahead, considering how we’ll be tasting Bordeaux 2020 

Looking ahead to Bordeaux 2020 in another Covid-19 year – and how the wine trade will assess these en primeur wines with travel restrictions still in place

Exploring Bordeaux 2020 in another Covid year

Bordeaux 2020: encore, mon ami 

The official Hermitage appellation was established in 1936 but its global reputation dates back to at least the 17th century, when it became the official wine of the French Royal household, under Louis XIII. Despite its historical roots, just a handful of producers remain who act as guardians of its reputation today.   The largest landowner in Hermitage is Chapoutier, with Jean-Louis Chave, Delas and Jaboulet-Ainé along with the local Tain-l’Hermitage co-operative overseeing the vast majority of production today. In the last 20 years, an increasing number of smaller growers are also now starting to bottle their wine. Today, Chave and Chapoutier lead the way regarding the wine’s collectability, with Chave’s wines being the most difficult to source after their initial release.  Red wines are made from 100% Syrah and represent about 70% of the appellation’s production, with the white Hermitage made predominantly from Marsanne with a small percentage of Roussanne. A tiny production of Vin de Paille (a sweet wine made from air-dried white grapes) is also produced in the appellation when the climatic conditions are right.  The Hermitage hill is a patchwork of individual terroirs with a total of 20 separate climats or lieux-dits. Most notably, Chapoutier bottles a number of his top wines from these single specific sites, whereas Chave prefers to make a blend of the different lieux-dits. The hill is mainly made up of granite rock and this is where the best Syrah is grown, while the white grapes tend to be grown on the flatter eastern part of the appellation where there is more clay and chalk.   This granite rock towering over the village of Tain has long been the Northern Rhône’s most consistent appellation. With its steep gradient and south-facing position, the grapes regularly reach good levels of ripeness. As the climate has warmed, its granite rock, diurnal inference and moderate exposure help retain freshness in the wine, as well as power and intensity. The shape and structure of the hill also protects the appellation from the full force of La Bise wind (known as the “baby Mistral”). The wind tends to follow wet weather, improving the sanitary conditions of the vineyard by reducing the risk of fungal diseases, compared to neighbouring appellations.  The wines of Hermitage have fantastic ageing potential and are the longest-lived in the Rhône Valley, typically entering their drinking window at 10 years of age and holding for another 15 years comfortably and in top vintages much longer. Our own recent tasting of Chave’s Hermitage back to the 1940s proved the incredible staying power of these wines.  Here is a run-down of the last 20 years in Hermitage – looking at which are the best, the good and the not-so-good.  Best Hermitage vintages: 2018, 2017, 2016, 2015, 2012, 2010, 2009, 2006, 2005, 2003, 2001, 1999   Hermitage has been fortunate over the last 20 years when it comes to stellar vintages, with ideal ripening conditions and low outbreaks of disease being the norm for the majority of the last two decades. The 2017, 2016, 2015 vintages were three years in a row that saw the whole Rhône Valley blessed with ideal conditions; with 2015 arguably the pick of the three for Hermitage, with both the white and reds excelling. In 2016, Hermitage was hit by a hailstorm greatly reducing yields, though the quality of what was produced is superb. Hermitage fared better than most other major appellations in the Rhône in 2017, when excessive heat was an issue for others. The 2018 vintage has also proven fantastically successful in Hermitage, performing much better than others in the Rhône. It is a very ripe vintage (akin to 2003), but with better freshness.   While many of the top vintages of the last 20 years in Hermitage seem to mirror the top vintages of Bordeaux, Hermitage has proven to be more consistent with fantastic results in the often underrated 2012 and 2006, two vintages where Bordeaux struggled. The 2012 vintage wasn’t universally loved by the critics, but top examples have great tension and concentration, and it is another strong vintage for the whites.  In 2006 Chapoutier’s single vineyards in both white and red excelled, with both his Les Greffieux red and L’Ermité white receiving 100 points from Parker.   Good-not-great Hermitage vintages: 2000, 2004, 2007, 2011, 2013, 2014  These middling vintages produced some stunning individual wines, but as vintages more generally were affected by less-than-ideal weather. The 2014 vintage brought a cool, wet summer, which opened up the potential for greener-edged fruit and tannins. The best examples, however, have amazing freshness and vigour.  The white wines excelled in these slightly cooler conditions and are excellent. The 2013s lack a little intensity and concentration, as do the 2007s – which outlines perhaps the largest contrast in terms of climate conditions between north and south. The Southern Rhône baked in sun all summer and produced superb wines in 2007, while the Northern Rhône and the rest of the northern half of France sat under cloud and cool conditions. In 2011 there were some exceptional singular examples of Hermitage but generally the growing conditions were less than perfect.   Difficult Hermitage vintages: 2002, 2008  In 20 years, it is incredible that just two vintages really underperformed in the appellation. The 2002 vintage was plagued by a poor summer and heavy rainfall during harvest, which badly affected the quality of the finished wines. The 2008s are of much higher quality than the disastrous 2002s, however.  While the year suffered from a cool, wet summer, the whites – as in 2014 – performed very well, even if the reds did not. There are a handful of exceptional white wines from the single vineyards of Chapoutier in 2008. The reds tend to be a little green, although Chapoutier’s single-vineyard reds also performed very well. Considering the weather conditions, the team wisely reduced the amount of new oak during élevage to balance the lighter fruit concentration.  Read more Editorial

Despite being only 136 hectares in size, the hill of Hermitage is one of the most globally reputed, historical and iconic appellations of the fine wine world. We examine 20 vintages of the red and white wines of Hermitage.

We examine 20 vintages of the red and white wines of Hermitage from 1999-2018 from Chapoutier, Jean-Louis Chave, Delas, Jaboulet-Ainé, Tain-l’Hermitage 

1999-2018 Hermitage vintage guide 

Hermitage: Vintage guide 1999-2018 

Mosel and the Kingdom of Prussia At the Congress of Vienna in 1815 the Mosel region was assigned to the Kingdom of Prussia. Following this, the region went through a period of great change. Initially, the elimination of the domestic German customs borders brought high competitive pressure on Mosel from other big wine-growing areas (e.g. Pfalz, Baden, Württemberg) and prices decreased dramatically. In addition to this, bad weather conditions and the outbreak of new pests in the region, saw regular crop failures, leading to economic hardship for many winegrowers in the region.  Despite the initial deterioration of the region, the Prussian government saw Mosel as a wine region worth saving, deciding to invest heavily into the wine industry. During the 1850s the construction of the railway line along the river was completed providing faster and easier access to the German Reich´s main traffic routes and therefore hugely improving the logistics of moving wine around the country and beyond.  Additionally, government domaines were built for research purposes, further developing modern technologies that were being applied in the vineyard and wineries. The focus was set on the wine quality: winemakers should grow the Riesling grape variety, they should harvest late and be highly selective when picking the grapes to produce better quality, and the wines should be "natural“ (without any additives, without being chaptalized, etc.). In the 1880s several vintages were of outstanding quality, and the interest in Mosel Riesling grew around Europe.  By the 1890s Mosel was enjoying a golden era in which its reputation for fine wine production saw a boom in sales throughout the 1890s. Furthermore, the consumer´s understanding of taste changed from heavy red wines to light, refreshing whites, rich in aroma and acidity.  The boom led to tourism, many people from all over Europe came to the valley, including famous artists such as William Turner and poets such as Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. Mosel Riesling was drunk by nearly all secular and ecclesiastical rulers of Europe – Berlin, St. Petersburg, London, etc. Kaiser Wilhelm II also visited the area several times. The wines were on the lists of all top restaurants around the world. Mosel was the world’s fine wine mecca.  
The wine styles of Mosel’s golden era 
By the beginning of 20th century, nearly all of the wines coming from the Mosel area were dry or maximum off-dry because there was no technical possibility to interrupt fermentation unnaturally. All of the Rieslings were fermented by natural yeasts only. They were kept in large "Fuder“-barrels – kept on their lees (sur lie – the dead yeast cells) for several months, sometimes even for more than a year, adding textural, aromatic and flavour complexity. The style of our dry and off-dry wines could be compared to the wines from 100 years ago. All of our wines ferment naturally, in the spirit of authenticity, vineyard character, complexity and longevity. No fining agents, enzymes or other additives are ever used. Most of the wines remain on their yeasts ("sur lie“) for months, gaining in mellowness and body.   During that time, winemakers did not have the technical possibility to stop fermentation earlier with a higher proportion of residual sugar. The machine needed for this procedure, containing a special filter which stabilises the wines by pulling yeasts and other solids out, only came into commercial use in the 1960s. An invention that would turn the style of the region’s wines on its head and damage its reputation as one of the world's leading fine wine regions.  In 1868 the Prussian tax authorities published the first official wine terroir classification in the world. This classification was used to set tax rates – the higher the quality of the single vineyard was rated, the higher the tax rates for the winegrowers (the darker red coloured the plots on the map – see map).  In addition, this map was an unprecedented tool for promoting wine by the Prussian government and proved a fantastically successful approach in identifying the nuances of each vineyard and was to be imitated by several other wine regions in Germany and beyond.  

Despite being 150 years ago, we think that this classification was very accurate in terms of identifying quality. The completely south-facing steep slopes are still the best to grow vines in our valley. Due to enlargements during 20th century some important vineyard sites are missing, in terms of our winery, it would be Wehlener Klosterberg vineyard which has proven to belong to the red or even dark red coloured surfaces on the map.  Due to climate change, we think that several vineyard sites which are located in side valleys or on a higher altitude have actually improved over the last decades. Nowadays they would also belong to the higher or highest-rated plots. But overall their assessment was petty accurate. The World War years
 The World Wars were obviously going to have a devastating effect on the region situated on the border of France and Luxembourg and this brought an end to the golden era. Whilst Riesling was the most planted and popular variety, Pinot Noir was also grown very successfully in the region until it was banned by the Nazis in 1933. The Nazis forbade the growing of French varieties and asked vignerons to focus on the prestigious "German“ Riesling in the Mosel wine-growing area which used to be the showpiece for them, being famous all over the world. The ban quite shockingly lasted until the end of the 1980s, therefore the tradition of red winemaking was nearly completely lost in the region. I was one of the “pioneers“ in the area to cultivate Pinot Noir again by planting the first vines in 1987 on the south-facing steep slope called Graacher Himmelreich. 
Mosel: the post-war period 
After WW II there was a huge request for fruity and light white wines and with the economic hardship that followed, a refocus towards quantity rather than quality. The Mosel Rieslings were swept up in this, predestined to produce high quantity, light, sweet wines. Winemakers
all along the river enlarged their vineyard surface, not only in the steep slopes but above all in the flat lands on the other side of the river.  Growing there was much easier and less time and work intense, and therefore also a lot cheaper. Mosel wines became famous as “sweet and cheap“ all over the world – markets were flooded. This concept based on quantity led to an enormous enlargement of vineyard area in the Mosel region from 7500 hectares to 12,300 hectares in the early 1990s. The glycol scandal (when antifreeze was discovered in bulk Austrian wine shipped to large German wineries in bulk and bottled under the German winery labels) only further enhanced the bad reputation of wines from our area.  
Mosel today: a 21st-century golden era Whilst nearly everything has changed over the last two decades the whole wine-growing area still suffers from the “Black Towers“ and “Blue Nuns“ sweet and cheap German wines that despite a drop in popularity still are made in vast quantities and exported all over the world. It is our aim to help restore the wines of our valley to their former glory, therefore we focus uncompromisingly on quality in every step of our daily work.  Luckily the understanding has changed – nearly all winemakers especially the young generation rely on the traditional ways of quality winemaking again and combine it with modern technology, new insights of research, as well as their passion for the famous steep slopes of our region. Wine lovers all over the world are recognising these changes as positive and we think we are back on the right track to regain the popularity and reputation garnered to the region during the golden era of the 1880s and 1890s. Explore more Editorial 

Markus Molitor shares the fascinating history of Mosel outlining the reasons behind the region's meteoric rise to glory at the end of the nineteenth century, its demise during the two World Wars and then its economic devastation in the 1980s.

Markus Molitor outlines the history of Mosel wines and winemaking from 1815 to 2020 – and the reasons behind the wine region's meteoric rise to glory

The history of Mosel wines and vineyards

The history of Mosel wines 1815-2020

Making wine under conflict Between 1975 and 1990, Lebanon was a mosaic of wars caused by complex shifting political, geographical, and demographical factors. When 16 years of Civil War were finally over, the foundations for a new republic had been laid, but at a considerable cost. Over 100,000 people were dead, nearly one million had been displaced, and billions of dollars worth of property and infrastructure had been destroyed. Chateau Musar’s vineyards had suffered damage from fighting in the Beka’a Valley, but although the winery in Ghazir had been subject to intermittent shelling, it had escaped significant damage. The fact that Musar only missed one year of winemaking during this period is no mere miracle – but a testament to the family Hochar’s dedication and devotion to their vision in the face of the most horrendous ‘working conditions’ imaginable. For Serge Hochar, protecting the family business his father had established was paramount. “If you ask me on which side I fought during these 15 years,” he once said, “I can only tell you that I was fighting for my wines.” And fight, he did. The effort required to get the Musar grapes from the vineyards to the winery each year during the Civil War was nothing short of Herculean. The pickers, who would often pick under artillery and gunfire as the dug-in militias bombarded each other, emerged as heroes. As did the truck drivers, who risked their lives when running the gauntlet of a journey that in peacetime can be made in two and a half hours, but during the war had sometimes taken several days. The story of Musar’s 1984 vintage in particular highlights the adversity Serge Hochar and family faced during the conflict – and also vindicates the passion at the heart of their decision to keep diligently making wine. In 1984, there was almost no vintage as there were only enough grapes to fill two trucks which proved to be a good thing as there were only two truck drivers brave enough to attempt to get them back to the winery.  Each went a different route. One took five days, the other seven. All the while, the grapes in the trucks were piled up, squashed, heating up in the hot sun each day and starting to ferment. A delivery of warm grapes can result in musty, unappealing wine but – such was
his philosophical outlook – Serge defiantly made wine with them anyway, bottling it and cellaring it to let it “become whatever it decided to be”.  Chateau Musar’s 1984 red should, in theory, have been a terrible wine. But against all odds, given the right conditions and no small amount of time, has become not only a drinkable wine – but a delicious, complex, exciting one, brimming with life and hope. The small amount of the vintage that exists was released to the marketplace in 2014 (exactly 30 years after it was made) and the bottles that occasionally appear on the market are very highly prized. This wine – and all of the vintages made during the Civil War – represent the Musar legacy Serge Hochar left in the capable hands of his sons Gaston and Marc, and his brother Ronald and his son Ralph, along with viticulturalist and winemaker Tarek Sakr. These wines were made during a time when simply driving to check on your crop or to pick up supplies meant dicing with death. “We did our best with what we have, as always. This is the Lebanese way. You give me grapes, and my job is only to help them to be the best wine they can be.” - Serge Hochar Chateau Musar: the Civil War years (1975-1990) 
Miraculously, in the 16 years of Civil War in Lebanon, not a single one of Chateau Musar’s employees was killed – even though many of the Hochar’s friends and neighbours lost their lives in sniper attacks, bombardments or car bombings. The winery escaped serious damage and, in retrospect, seems to have been the safest place in Lebanon. Thousands of bottles stored deep underground in Musar’s cellars carved in the limestone heart of Mount Lebanon slept peacefully during the years of conflict.  The Hochars even converted part of the cellars into a bomb shelter for refugees fleeing Beirut. And they took any opportunities they could to distribute and ship their wines while all the madness of war enveloped them, steadily growing Musar’s reputation around the world. By the end of the Civil War, Chateau Musar was so much more than a maker of exquisite wines. It had established itself as an icon of national endurance and hope. And who wouldn’t drink to that? Read more about life at Chateau Musar during the Civil War years with the timeline below: 1976 30,000 Syrian troops move into Lebanon ostensibly to restore peace, but in reality, this was Syria’s attempt to claim the lands (including the Beka’a Valley) it believes it was owed when Lebanon became independent in 1943. “In 1976 there was total war in Lebanon. We had no electricity. No fuel. No transport. No harvest. No nothing. 1976 was the only year in which we failed to make any wine. For others, the weather is a problem – for us, it is war.” Without the ability to reach the grapes, to pick them and bring them back to the winery, there could be no new wine. Even if there had been, there was nobody to buy it. So Serge saw the opportunity to reach out and find new markets for the wines he had in his cellars. His father-in-law had a travel-agency in London and agreed to start importing his wines in the UK. 1977 From 1977 to 1990 (and during plenty of small dirty wars since) the Hochar family successfully made wine each year – often plucking grapes from the barbed wire zones of the frontline. “During times of war, we have to put all our belief and all our assets in wine!” said Serge. “We have to keep going with the things that are our essence. By now, I was used to war. So I kept on making wine; I was making it for a market I did not yet know existed.”

 1978 The UN steps in with peacekeeping troops and Israel is forced to withdraw from Lebanon. Syria steps in instead, targeting the Christian population in the ‘Hundred Days’ War’, the worst offensive for two years. Serge: “There was very heavy shelling in Beirut. The Syrians shelled Achrafiyeh, where our office is [in central Beirut]. At the time, my wife Tania was running the Godiva chocolatier nearby. She took the kids to the winery cellar in Ghazir in shock. There were many dead in Achrafiyeh. My secretary hid in the strong metal filing cabinet. Many people here were psychologically affected.” 
 1979 Revolution in Iran leads to radicalisation of the Shi'ite movement in Lebanon, and the creation of the Amal party, the ‘movement of the dispossessed’.

 1980 Bashir Gemayal unites Lebanon’s Christian military factions, creating the Lebanese Forces political party.  Serge: “This was one of the worst years of the war for us. I used to write a harvest report, but have mislaid it for this year.”  Chateau Musar UK was officially established this year. 1981 Relations between Syria and Israel deteriorate. Serge: “This was a year of terrible hardship. Tania and the kids left for London. They had to. I could not guarantee their safety. They came back, then left again in 1983. I promised that I would join them the moment the war ended. We did see each other every few months when I could get a flight.” 
 1982 Israel invades Lebanon again intending to dislodge the PLO. Some 18,000 people, mostly civilians, lose their lives as the battle-zone moves towards Beirut. Italian, French and US troops assist in the evacuation of the Palestinians. In the Beka’a, 80 hectares of Musar vineyards become the frontline between the Syrians and Israelis, whose tanks faced each other over the vines. Serge calculates that he will not be able to harvest grapes from them again until 1985. But he does. In the confusion that ensues after the invasion, the loyal Bedouin pickers collect what fruit they can, and the Hochar trucks manage to make their way to the winery. Serge: “The 1982 is a pure wine of war.” 1983 Times darken further as suicide bombing reprisals shock Beirut and its suburbs. In the Chouf mountains, the Mountain War begins. That summer, Serge took his family on holiday to the US. During a stop-over in Paris on their return journey, war broke out again so the family decided to settle in France. Winter is severe in the Beka’a, with metres of snow coating the vineyards; summer is barely warmer, and the Hochars’ harvest was late. A break in fighting, instilled by the American fleet anchored off Beirut, came at just the right time for the vineyard manager to pick a few grape bunches and smuggle them into Beirut for Ronald to check. They were good: there had been no rain, no heatwave, and the grapes had reached perfect condition. Ronald put in a call to Serge, who was visiting the US, and the brothers decided to match the bravery of their vineyard manager and order the harvest in. “It was very dangerous,” admits Ronald: “Serge flew to Cyprus, then took a six-hour hovercraft crossing to Beirut; he arrived at the winery in Ghazir moments after two rockets blasted the coast road he’d just been driving on.”  The truck drivers, with their precious loads of hand-cut grapes, carefully negotiated the capillary-like country roads that would lead them to the winery, relying on a network of local gossip to learn which roads the militias were controlling with checkpoints and which route between the Beka’a and Ghazir would be the least bloody. They were successful. As Ronald said, there were two advantages: “Our usual headache, the traffic jams, were gone. And the harvest, just like that of 1982, was excellent!” 
 1984 The Lebanese Forces, having controlled the capital since 1982, are expelled, and the Amal Party takes control of West Beirut. Peacekeeping forces (from the US, Italy and the UK) leave Lebanon. Serge: “We did our best with what we have, as always. This is the Lebanese way. You give me grapes, and my job is only to help them to be the best wine they can be. In 1984 the sun was very hot, and the fighting was hotter. After waiting and waiting for a break in the shelling, and more than a month after the last day of the harvest should have been, we quickly picked whatever grapes were left on the vines. Most were very ripe and sugary. There were enough grapes for only two truckloads, and only two of our drivers were brave enough to attempt the journey to Ghazir.  The first truck managed to find a way through the cedar forests in the northern Beka’a and get eventually to Tripoli, near the northern border with Syria. In five days it was with us. The second truck drove south over mountain tracks to Jezzine, then crossed the battlefronts on the way down to Sidon. From there, the trucks needed to avoid Beirut, so they waited for a boat. There was a terrible storm, which delayed the ferry to Jounieh.  Eventually, the storm was quiet enough and the ferry sailed slowly up the coast. The trucks arrived at the winery after seven days, on October 20th, 45 days after what should have been the end of the harvest – 45! So, in 1984 the grapes that we received were hot, bruised, sticky and very much fermenting. As an act of defiance, and as an act of faith, as a way of showing that the Lebanese spirit can never be broken, we made those grapes into wine. I made the 1984 to declare war against war.” Fittingly, 1984 was the year that Serge Hochar was named as the first ever Decanter magazine ‘Man of the Year’ - for his unswerving commitment to winemaking. 
 1985 The Israelis continue their withdrawal from the south of Lebanon under armed pressure from Hezbollah. They keep an occupied ‘security zone’ along their border. In the War of the Camps, Palestinian refugee camps are targeted by Shi'ite and Amal militia. Serge: “The Israelis continued to withdraw from Sidon, but it was still difficult to get the grapes from the Beka’a to the winery. After this year, things started to settle down, on our terms.” 1986 Serge: “Military action destroyed some of the vineyards on Mount Lebanon. Our white grape Obaideh was, and is, grown on the slopes of the Anti-Lebanon and was still available – but we only ever used this grape for Arak (Lebanon’s aniseed-flavoured aperitif). Prior to 1986, the Chateau white was only produced from Merwah grapes. From 1986 we began to blend Obaideh with Merwah and the combination worked. We were the first to use these two local varieties in a unique new style of wine.” Close to four decades later, Musar is still the only one. 1987 Anger at the continued presence of Israel in Lebanon is augmented by the first Intifada (Palestinian uprising against Israel’s occupation of the West Bank and Gaza).

 1988 Following Amin Gemayel, Lebanon’s new interim president is announced as Michel Aoun. Serge: “Life in Lebanon was not so hectic in 1988. It was a normal year, politically speaking.” 1989 President Aoun declares war on Syria. After seven months of fighting, with 800 dead, the Arab League negotiates a ceasefire. The Taif Agreement is signed, with the ethos ‘no victor and no vanquished’, in an attempt to end the Lebanese Civil War. Meanwhile, life is beginning to return to normal in the Hochar vineyards. In an impressive vintage, Carignan grapes begin to win Serge’s heart.

 1990 Miraculously, in the 16 years of Civil War in Lebanon, not a single one of Chateau Musar’s employees was killed – even though many of the Hochar’s friends and neighbours lost their lives in sniper attacks, bombardments or car bombings. The winery escaped serious damage and, in retrospect, seems to have been the safest place in Lebanon. Thousands of bottles stored deep underground in Musar’s cellars carved in the limestone heart of Mount Lebanon slept peacefully during the years of conflict.  The Hochars even converted part of the cellars into a bomb shelter for refugees fleeing Beirut. And they took any opportunities they could to distribute and ship their wines while all the madness of war enveloped them, steadily growing Musar’s reputation around the world. By the end of the Civil War, Chateau Musar was so much more than a maker of exquisite wines. It had established itself as an icon of national endurance and hope. And who wouldn’t drink to that?

Explore more Editorial 

The story of Ch. Musar’s 1984 vintage highlights the adversity of Serge Hochar during the conflict and also vindicates the passion to keep diligently making wine. We find out more

The story of Musar’s 1984 vintage highlights the adversity of Serge Hochar during the conflict and also vindicates the passion to keep diligently making wine

Yering Station

Please wait