Chris Phelps never really meant to start his own winery. But fate had other plans.  Wine had always been part of life, just in the background. Growing up in Livermore, east of San Francisco, Phelps’s parents would buy a ton of grapes from Napa or Sonoma, and make wine each year for themselves. Phelps even dug out a cellar by hand for them as a teenager. Nevertheless, when he set off for UC Davis, it wasn’t to study wine, but medicine. To pay for university, he took a job as a firefighter in Idaho (“kind of scary but super fun,” he tells me). By chance, he met a wine-geek friend, one who eventually convinced him to switch from pre-med to oenology. At Davis, he happened upon Alain Bertrand – one of the first scientists to use gas chromatography to delineate the different aromatic compounds in wine. The Frenchman didn’t speak much English, and Phelps spoke French – so they ended up becoming friends. Bertrand suggested Phelps attend the University of Bordeaux for a year after graduation. There, Phelps tells me, everything “started to fall into place”. Until then, wine had been intellectually interesting – but, during his time in France, it became much more.   There, another professor pushed him to apply for an internship – just in time for the 1982 harvest, a vintage that would turn out to be legendary. He already had offers from both Ch. Simon (Barsac) and Ch. Beauregard, but then was given the opportunity to interview with JP Moueix (of Pétrus). Unusually Christian Moueix insisted on joining the interview himself, alongside winemaker Jean-Claude Berrouet, and promptly gave him the job. The confident young American, however, said he’d think about it – and set off for a holiday in the south of France with his fiancée. Little did he know that Moueix had just bought a swathe of vineyard in Napa – and was planning for the future.  A few weeks later, Phelps was in Nice and bought three postcards from the Chagall museum – ready to make his decision about the three possible roads that lay ahead of him. He decided to take the position at Moueix, posted his rejections and acceptance, and carried on with his holiday. But, as harvesttime approached, Phelps hadn’t heard anything back. He called Berrouet – only to find out that the French postal service had let him down, and the job at Pétrus had been given to someone else. It seemed like his luck had run out, but Berrouet said he might have another idea and would call him back in a few days.   While Berrouet couldn’t offer him anything as prestigious as Pétrus, he found Phelps a job at Ch. des Laurets in Puisseguin-Saint-Emilion – but he wouldn’t just be an intern, he’d be running everything. It was, Phelps said, a “trial by fire”, especially given his only hands-on experience to date had been six months at Louis Martini. He worked non-stop with just one cellar hand to help during the day, and managed to make it through the season.   When the wines were safely in barrel, he went to dinner at Christian Moueix’s house – where, sipping Champagne in the library, Moueix told Phelps about his plans for his Napa project, Dominus – and asked if he’d be the winemaker. “Of course, I said no,” Phelps tells me – recalling how the Frenchman opposite visibly sputtered at the American’s cheek (again). Phelps said he needed more money to live in Napa (and support his bride-to-be) – and more experience. Amazingly, Moueix agreed to let him start from 1984, given the 1983 vintage was set to be just a handful of experimental barrels, and to a pay rise. Off Phelps went, working around California and wintering at Pétrus before returning to lead the team at Dominus.   “We figured it out as we went along,” Phelps says, looking back on the early days of what is now one of Napa’s most prestigious estates. Today they might have the iconic Herzog & De Meuron winery, but things were much more rustic at the beginning – with a small team and little infrastructure. Phelps eventually moved on, joining Caymus in 1996 – but it’s what started happening after-hours, around his day job, that is interesting.  In 1990, Phelps met Larry Bettinelli at a Christian men’s retreat, and hit it off. It was only when they met up for lunch later that they realised they were both in the wine business, with Bettinelli a fifth-generation farmer who was growing grapes. Bettinelli wanted his vineyards to be the best in the valley – but he needed feedback on the fruit so that he could adapt his viticulture. He and Phelps hatched a plan: each year, Bettinelli would give Phelps a ton of fruit, trialling different clones, rootstocks, vine spacing and trellising, harvest methods, and Phelps would make a wine with it. The project was purely intellectual, so the two families drunk the wine themselves, and it also started being used as the altar wine at Phelps’s church (a much higher-grade communion offering than most). For two decades, they kept making tiny batches of their first-class “homebrew”, and Bettinelli became one of the valley’s best growers, working with an increasing number of sites around Napa.  Destiny seemed to abandon all subtlety in 2005. Phelps was hiking through the Sierra Nevada, leading a Scouts expedition, when they were struck by lightning. Two of the group died and Phelps was knocked unconscious. Unsurprisingly, it shook Phelps to the core. “Life is our most precious gift,” he says, “and if we use wine appropriately, it can enhance our lives.”  Two years later, Phelps was on top of a tank that had just been filled with crushed fruit from a relatively new Bettinelli site – and the smell was intoxicating. Following pure impulse, Phelps asked if he could – rather unconventionally – buy the tank’s contents, and Bettinelli said yes. Ad Vivum – inspired by the Latin “vinum” for wine and “vivere” to live, combined with “ad” which translates as “to” or “towards” – was born.  The vineyard was Sleeping Lady (previously Reese), the southernmost vineyard in Yountville, at the foot of the Mayacamas and on the southern end of the valley’s famous bench. There’s a flow of underground water that feeds a creek, with sufficient clay under the gravel and sand to retain water during the dry summer – and has, in Phelps’s words, a “beautiful ability” to self-regulate. Various other producers work with the vineyard, but his two blocks (representing a mere 1.5 acres) are right at the top of the vineyard, below a steep slope that aids the flow of cool air through the site at night. For him there was something special about these plots – producing fruit and wine with what Phelps describes as a “grace note”; it’s a whisper of something that takes the wine to the next level.  In a good year, production for Ad Vivum is 450 cases – but Phelps isn’t looking to grow. He makes one wine, from one site – and that’s the way he wants it to be. The wine is undoubtedly informed by his Franco-American roots, with an elegance, freshness and savoury structure that complements the plush Napa style. As he says, “I try to build wines that speak for themselves.”  Phelps’s – and Ad Vivum’s – story is one of happenstance. Or is it? With a man as devout as Phelps, it seems hard for anyone to believe it’s all an accident – and as Phelps himself says, looking back, it feels perhaps like it’s all part of a master plan.  Contact your Account Manager to find out more about the 2019 release of Ad Vivum or read more about California 

Ad Vivum is a boutique Napa project from Chris Phelps. Sophie Thorpe spoke to him about how twists of fate saw him go from aspiring medic to star winemaker at the likes of Dominus, Caymus – and now his own label

Ad Vivum is a boutique Napa wine label from Chris Phelps. We spoke to the ex Dominus and Caymus winemaker about his journey – and its twists of fate

Discover Chris Phelps’s wine Ad Vivum, Napa

Divine intervention: Ad Vivum

Last year Alessandro Mori completed his 47th vintage at Il Marroneto in Montalcino. Now aged 60, Il Marroneto has been his life’s work. Despite the challenges, his passion for winemaking has never wavered and when he speaks about the estate and its wines today, he sounds as giddy as the boy who first arrived at the winery, aged just 14. He discovered Il Marroneto in 1975. At that time, it was just a farm on the northern slopes of Montalcino, with a few vines growing alongside olive trees and a small orchard. His father was so taken by the view – stretching out 60km across the valley floor towards Siena, his hometown – he bought the property the next day. The entire family – a young Mori, his brother and their parents – would spend their weekends tending the vineyard, which they planted on arrival. Initially just half a hectare, this site would become Madonna delle Grazie – Brunello’s most lauded vineyard today. Those first few years working alongside his family were some of Mori’s happiest days – and would shape the rest of his life. Il Marroneto remained a family hobby, and when he finished school, Mori became a lawyer. It was only in 1994, aged 33, that he decided life behind a desk wasn’t for him. “I had to express myself,” says Mori, “so I decided to continue to live the life I started with my parents and my brother.” He moved to Montalcino with his wife and new-born baby, living and sleeping in one room. At the time, Il Marroneto was only producing 3,300 bottles a year. It was all very financially tight at the beginning. “It became a big problem for me,” admits Mori. “I only slept two to three hours a night, kept awake thinking how could I make this work? I was full of worry, but also I was happy because I loved my work. I really loved my work.” Mori explains how this lifestyle change brought him a welcome sense of freedom. “There is soul in what I do every day,” he says. “There is a soul to the region too. This work gives me freedom, freedom from all the everyday life lived today. The order you have to follow. I am free from this in my mind.” But Mori’s passion is more than just the freedom it has given him. He’s always felt the work he was doing, the wine he was producing, was something important. He was carrying on a tradition that stretches back thousands of years and that brought a sense of purpose and responsibility. After all these years Mori remains amazingly humble considering his success. If you have ever read an interview with Mori or had the pleasure of visiting him, he never fails to mention his debt to his teachers. These two wise men – the late Mario Cortevesio and Giulio Gambelli – are legends in winemaking circles, and they taught Mori everything he needed to know to make great Sangiovese. Mori was fortunate to have such mentors – especially when most were looking outside the region for expertise. As Brunello di Montalcino gained recognition, investment flooded the region. There were fewer than 50 wineries when Mori first arrived, but now there are 250. “The first thing these people do is look for a doctor in oenology and agronomy – to plant the vineyard and build the cellar,” says a bemused Mori.  New arrivals, looking to make their mark, rarely speak to people who have grown grapes in the region for decades, instead hiring outsiders – many of whom have never even been to Tuscany. “Now these people are using concrete eggs, amphora and oak from Austria,” he laughs, “but no one goes to the old people that live here and asks them, what is the way of our forefathers?” But that is exactly what his father did – looking to the village elders. In return they got the eyes and ears of first Cortevesio and then Gambelli. Coretvesio and Gambelli had an extraordinary influence on winemaking in Tuscany. “They were like two brothers,” says Mori. “Born in the same year, they studied together, they worked their whole lives together and they died within two months of each other.” They would split their time between Chianti and Montalcino. For Mori, they were his most important teachers when it came to making Sangiovese. Despite Cortevesio largely focusing on the Chianti region, for the first seven years at Il Marroneto it was Cortevesio who was their consultant (due to a friendship with Mori’s father). Mori remembers that when he was just 14, Cortevesio used to visit the farm and share his wisdom with him and his brother. “To make good wine, you need respect,” Cortevesio would say. “Respect, respect, respect – everywhere there must be respect! Respect the animals, the plants, the place, the people. You are starting to grow a grape that took more than 3,000 years to become perfect in this area, so you respect the grape!” Cortevesio was adamant it was the wonders of Sangiovese that lay behind the region’s great artists (“the real important guys that passed before us,” says Mori); Sangiovese had fuelled Da Vinci to paint La Giaconda (the Mona Lisa), Boccaccio to write Decamerone and Giotto to design the Campanile – the iconic gothic belltower of Florence’s cathedral. Speaking with vignerons today, often the emphasis is on work in the vineyard – believing that is where great wine is made. But Mori likes to contradict that claim: “Wine is born in the cellar,” he says defiantly. “The hand of the man, his actions, are the secret of everything. I use the same techniques as our forefathers. They didn’t have yeasts to start fermentations. They didn’t have sulphur. They used natural methods.” Mori explains that Cortevesio and Gambelli believed it was possible to make precise wines using traditional methods – but only if the vigneron was fastidious in everything they did. Right from the start it was Cortevesio’s influence – and his mantra “passion, precision and patience” – that promoted such a traditional approach at Il Marroneto. To make wine in this way requires a lot of hard work in the winery – indeed Cortevesio was fastidious about cleanliness in the winery. Mori remembers constantly cleaning barrels and the cellar to try to win his respect. In the early days, despite Mori’s best attempts, Cortevesio would still think the cellar was dirty. He would taste the wine and say, “It’s tired.” As Cortevesio got older, he suffered with pain in his throat following an operation on his neck. It became difficult for him to speak and so he rarely did. He famously used to communicate with a smile, recalls Mori, and even that was difficult for him. Mori remembers the day he first smiled after tasting Il Marroneto, calling the wine “precise”, the finest compliment any vigneron could hope to hear when judging a wine, Mori believes. While Cortevesio became largely mute, Gambelli – who hunted almost daily – was completely deaf. After 10 years, Gambelli took over consulting for Il Marroneto (from 1985) and continued to visit up until 1993. Like Cortevesio, Gambelli had a maniacal approach to cleanliness and extolled monastic-like patience when ageing the wine. Mori was amazed by how this duo – one mute, the other deaf – could communicate. While both famous for saying very little, what they did say mattered – and their legacy, the lessons they shared with Mori, lives on today. After 17 years of tutelage under Cortevesio and Gambelli, Mori went his own way. “The wine of Marroneto remains the wine of Cortevesio and Gambelli because I am their pupil,” says Mori. “I continue to make the wine as they taught me – but with my hand.” The biggest change for Mori was the introduction of the Madonna delle Grazie cuvée. Often considered the region’s finest wine, it is the only Brunello to have been awarded multiple 100-point scores from the Wine Advocate – and universally loved by critics and afficionados around the world. The wine comes from the estate’s oldest and original vineyard – the one he worked as a child – and is made completely differently to Marroneto’s classic Brunello. Mori continues to make the traditional Brunello exactly as he did when he was 14. This “true” Brunello “requires a lot of movement in order to extract the best parts of the grape – the pulp that sits one millimetre under the skin,” explains Mori, “this is where you find the best anthocyanins, the polyphenolics, the complex fruity smells. The first 48 hours following harvest extracting these are key.” Mori and his team are up for two days solid, constantly working the must. Mori comically compares it to the Big Bang. “The grape material explodes, the material goes everywhere; it is the birth of the universe, and the wine is born.” After 48 hours, they stop and the must – thanks to all the agitation and natural humidity created in the winery – immediately starts fermenting. After just a few hours, the must has heated up to 34-35˚C and sometimes reaches 40˚C. These are not temperatures ever mentioned in modern wineries, but Mori knows what he is doing. “Sangiovese likes to fly high like an eagle when fermenting,” he says, “it is important for the characteristics of the Sangiovese chemically to fix the volatile smells.” At these sorts of temperatures, the fermentation is over in a week. Mori deliberately makes Madonna delle Grazie completely differently – and contradicts all that he does with his classic Brunello cuvée, such is the quality of the grapes from this special vineyard. When the grapes arrive at the winery, the fruit is left alone. The fermentation is much slower and much cooler (between 28-30˚C), lasting 20-25 days. It is, in short, totally the opposite. “With the Madonna delle Grazie, to our surprise, we found no power,” says Mori, “but a complexity in which the Sangiovese is similar to that of Pinot Noir – the technique brings elegance.” “Every part of the Madonna is high (the acidity, the tannins, the alcohol, the polyphenolics, the anthocyanins, the fruity characters, all are high, but without the power –  altogether it makes a complex wine. Together it makes for an extraordinary equilibrium.” Mori has been perfecting his techniques over the last 27 years, but two years ago it was his turn to become the teacher as his son – Iacopo – joined him in the winery during the pandemic. “Now I try to let my son learn this kind of traditional winemaking – not simply as Gambelli and Cortevesio taught me, but Gambelli, Cortevesio with the hand of Alessandro,” he says. “Today, he is more careful in the cellar than I am. Sometimes a little too much,” laughs Mori. He has obviously taught him well. Mori has also been imparting his knowledge to Emilio Parri – his cellar hand and protégé, who has been working in the cellar since he was 18. Overriding everything, Mori’s job as a teacher, he believes, is to “transmit the passion”. Mori still has a strong bond with his wine – he talks to it every day. When leaving the winery he shouts down to the cellar – “Ciao ragazzi, see you tomorrow!” Mori’s underlying philosophy for making great wine is to make wine with sentiment. “You have a relationship with the wine – the more you give to the wine, it gives it you back 10 times more. You see the wine grow up like a child, it is fantastic.” Encouraging this relationship, encouraging both Iacopo and Parri to fall in love with the work and the wine is his goal. With Mori’s support, his son has created a new cuvée, the stunning Rosso di Montalcino Selezione Iacopo. Iacopo took different proportions of wines ageing in the cellar to concoct his own blend. The 2019 was the first limited release and has already been highly praised by the critics (Eric Guido wrote, “The word ‘wow’ does not do this justice.”). While Mori thinks his son could afford to relax a bit and “take it easy” – the skills he and Parri are showing in the cellar means perhaps it is Mori, after 47 years, who can now start to relax. While Mori contemplates his retirement, albeit just for 30 seconds, he knows he will never really leave. Like Gambelli and Cortevesio before him, he will share the ways of his forefathers with anyone in Montalcino who will listen. Explore all current Il Marroneto listings or read more Editorial 

Alessandro Mori has produced every vintage in Il Marroneto’s 47-year history. As he prepares to hand this legacy to the next generation, we caught up with him to pause and consider his teachers – two legendary Tuscan figures that helped establish Il Marroneto as one of Montalcino’s top estates

Alessandro Mori of Il Marroneto’s reflects on his legacy and that of two Tuscan legends, Gambelli and Cortevesio.

The savants of Sangiovese, Il Marroneto

The savants of Sangiovese: Il Marroneto

There are few people that get to taste Bordeaux as often or as thoroughly as the Wine Advocate Editor-in-Chief Lisa Perrotti-Brown MW. Based in Napa, her knowledge of how the Bordeaux varieties are managed – both in Bordeaux’s moderate climate and the hotter region of Napa – has become a huge asset in understanding and assessing Bordeaux in a warming climate. With such exposure to vintages past and present, being mentored by the world’s most influential critic Robert Parker, there’s no one better to consider what defines Bordeaux today.  Perrotti-Brown has a clear idea of how and why Bordeaux has changed so much in the last 20 years, while at the same time emphasising that there’s no “hard stop” to an era. An individual château’s period of change can be different to its neighbours. “It seems like every château has had its challenging period,” she says, “whether it be a dogmatic winemaker, recurring faults in the winery or even financial difficulties.” Each era of Bordeaux is not simply defined by set vintages, however – with the benefit of hindsight – she believes you can see clear, defining moments over the last two decades where the style of Bordeaux has changed. Like much of the wine world in the 1980s and ’90s, Bordeaux châteaux were still understanding the effects of faults in their wines – whether it be volatile acidity, dissolved oxygen or Brettanomyces. With increased emphasis on ripeness and new oak, these issues only increased. “Brett and other faults love new oak and higher alcohol, it was almost a perfect storm,” she explains. But as this became more of an issue in the region, it led to more research, bringing about a much better technical understanding of why these things were happening. It was this scientific awakening that Perrotti-Brown believes was the catalyst for the modern era. “Momentum for change has sped up in the last 20 years and there have been lots of triggers,” she says. “There is a better understanding of what ripeness is, precision viticulture and winemaking, the development of technology and of course there is climate change.” But outside this and perhaps the most important “trigger” behind this change, she believes, is money. “To run a château has become very expensive: 30 or 40 years ago many of these châteaux were simply operating as agriculturalists, now it is a multi-million-dollar business.” Big money has no doubt brought about big investment and Perrotti-Brown believes in many ways it has “levelled the playing field”. A lack of investment in the winery and vineyard is now a rare excuse for poor performance. “It has raised the standard throughout the region. Investment and greater precision has created a lot of diversity – more than we have ever seen before.” In terms of taste, the most positive developments in Bordeaux for Perrotti-Brown come from the vigneron’s better understanding of ripeness, both in terms of tannin ripeness and fruit concentration. “Hindsight is a beautiful thing,” she quips, “but we have seen dark periods on both sides of the spectrum in Bordeaux.” There were real issues with lack of ripeness through much of the 1970s and ’80s. High production levels saw diluted grapes harvested and simply chaptalized (sugar added) to bring up the alcohol, then at fermentation, the must was overworked to extract enough colour and tannins. Since top Bordeaux was known for its long ageing potential, this was necessary to create the structure to age – “Otherwise you were going to end up with a diluted, watery mess,” explains Perrotti-Brown. This extended maceration saw the extraction of very hard tannins – “the wrong sort of tannins that come at a later stage of extraction”. “It is better extraction techniques, only extracting quality tannins, that is a major reason behind the most recent improvements,” Perrotti-Brown explains. She points to the legendary 1982 vintage. “A lot of people at the time were saying the tannins of the ’82s were too soft, too juicy, too fruity and it just wasn’t true.” The vintage was warm, particularly for that era. “At harvest the vignerons were picking grapes with a natural ripeness to the tannins, which meant during extraction the tannins and colour came easily.” They didn’t have to overwork the grapes to extract the tannins, producing wines that were great in their youth and have since aged incredibly well. It was the quality, not quantity, of tannins that stood the 1982s in such good stead, a lesson that wasn’t necessarily learnt instantly. Overworking the musts and a lack of concentration continued to be commonplace throughout much of the ’80s and ’90s. Many wines were hugely extracted and required plenty of patience. “You compare that with now,” she says. “I was discussing the 2020 vintage with Ch. Margaux’s Philippe Bascaules – and he barely needed to touch the grapes during extraction.” At better ripeness levels (as seen in 2020), the colour and tannins extract themselves. In the mid-90s to early 2000s, however, there was “a chase for ripeness”, in Perrotti-Brown’s words. “It was the beginning of the garagiste era – with reductions in yield, later picking and an emphasis on power. You had super low yields, producing behemoth, impenetrable wines in their youth, 200% new oak etc – people were really pushing the boundaries.” It is a style that is seen by many as actively encouraged by Perrotti-Brown’s mentor Robert Parker, who at this point was arguably the most influential man in Bordeaux. The incredibly hot 2003 vintage marked a watershed moment for Bordeaux. “Bordeaux winemakers had never seen anything like it. Grapes were turning to raisins on the vine,” Perrotti-Brown says. Despite the year’s conditions which exposed the push toward ripeness, the emphasis on power continued up until the 2010 vintage. Despite the focus on ripeness and extraction, there were some exceptional vintages – but Perrotti-Brown questions how well these wines have since aged. This is, in her view, a key shift in the region. She compares tasting the 2005s en primeur, with tasting the vintages of today. While 2005 was clearly a fantastic vintage, tasting these wines so young was really difficult, with aggressive tannins. Many winemakers were, Perrotti-Brown says, “making wines by formula”. A high-quality vintage gave vignerons a free ride to push the extraction even more. The criticism often made of 2005 is that it has taken such a long time to come around. Similar issues are raised with the same vintage in Burgundy. The year was at the height of the trend for maximum ripeness and extraction, for both Bordeaux and Burgundy, and the resulting wines shut down for a long period. Perrotti-Brown accepts that people have different expectations on when to drink Bordeaux, but she loves to drink wine in its mid-life, when there is both primary fruit and tertiary development. The problem with the 2005s, she says, is that that window never really opened: the wines remained closed, only beginning to open up now, when there is little primary fruit left. “Many of the ’05s are, wow, exceptional now, but you miss that sweet fruit and it’s what I like about the modern vintages,” she says. Looking back, “Winemakers could have dealt with 2005 much more wisely.” The 2009 vintage provides an interesting contrast. Like the ’82s, the natural ripeness of the tannins meant the wines didn’t shut down in the same way the 2005s did. Of course, higher levels of alcohol also helped increase the potential tannin extraction. Alcohol is a solvent. Increased ripeness, which in turn leads to higher alcohol levels, can therefore lead to too much phenolic extraction. While this was a risk for many wines in the early 2000s, fortunately today’s winemakers know much more about how to handle riper fruit. The 2010 vintage might have been the last year of big, bold, extracted wines, it was nature rather than the Bordelais that dictated the change, Perrotti-Brown notes. The ’11, ’12, ’13 and ’14 vintages meant winemakers had to deal with cooler, more difficult vintages. It was not possible to produce bold wines in these vintages and retain balance. This was almost a period of introspection for Bordeaux and, for Perrotti-Brown, it led to a distinctive development where “the ethos of precision” took charge from the 2015 vintage. While there are of course exceptions, from 2015 Perrotti-Brown feels you started to see more plot-by-plot management of the vineyard, with picking times becoming much more accurate – picking plots and fermenting them separately, “rather than throwing everything together”. Extraction also became much more precise, focusing on only the quality tannins – a marked change from the previous era. This new ethos brought, in Perrotti-Brown’s view, a lot of “soul-searching” in the vineyard, with people like Alfred Tesseron spearheading a movement toward more sustainable practices. But overall, Perrotti-Brown notes, “There is so much creativity too and many people are doing different things. It has created a lot of diversity.” Amongst the creative changes happening in the winery and vineyard, developments in the wine’s élevage always seems to be a big talking point in Bordeaux. Oak is an integral part of the Bordeaux “recipe”, but – after an over-reliance in the 2000s – its use was becoming increasingly scrutinised. “Oak doesn’t ever go,” she says. “It settles down, integrates and evolves with the fruit, but it can push itself forward.” “Oak is absolutely necessary for giving shape and spice to the fruit, as well as tannic interest to the wine,” says Perrotti-Brown: for her, it’s about oak being used “smartly”. “Most people have pulled back on the new oak from the 2015 vintage onwards, but, like the tannins, it is not about more or less oak, but about using it more wisely. There is a much better understanding of oak today and much better quality of oak being used. What it lends to the tannin structure is a nice back up to the skin tannins and a spiciness in the background.” The new era – from 2015 onwards – is certainly contributing to Bordeaux being “on a good run”, in Perrotti-Brown’s words. But while there is great consistency today, she’s under no impression there won’t be problems ahead. “Warm, dry vintages have become the norm, but how warm and how dry before this becomes an issue? Bordeaux was lucky in 2020 that they got a bit of rain in August,” she says. While a lot has changed over the last 20 years in Bordeaux, there are no guarantees for the future. No matter the technology, Bordeaux’s fate lies in the hands of the shifting climate – and terroir, or more specifically the clay or limestone soils equipped to deal with hot, dry conditions, has never been so important. For now at least, though, Bordeaux is basking in its era of precision, with 2020 the third great vintage in a row. Let’s hope Mother Nature holds the region in her favour a little longer. Read our summary of Lisa Perrotti-Brown MW's report (including the wines she rated most highly) in our round-up of the critics’ verdict on the vintage Find out more about Bordeaux or read more Editorial 

No doubt that the style of Bordeaux has shifted over the past two decades. But what’s caused the change – and are the wines better? We sat down with one of the world’s most influential wine writers, Wine Advocate Editor-in-Chief Lisa Perrotti-Brown MW, to delve into what defines modern Bordeaux

The Wine Advocate’s Editor-in-Chief Lisa Perrotti-Brown MW on 20 years of change in Bordeaux – and what defines modern Bordeaux

Lisa Perrotti-Brown MW on the Bordeaux evolution

Lisa Perrotti-Brown MW on the evolution of Bordeaux

Château d’Issan might not be one of Bordeaux’s most famous addresses – but the Margaux Third Growth has seen huge investment since Emmanuel Cruse arrived in 1998, and it’s a name on the rise.  Jane Anson – Decanter’s Bordeaux correspondent and the author of Inside Bordeaux – even goes so far as to suggest it’s an estate worthy of Second Growth status in her take on a revised 1855 classification.  The property is one of the region’s oldest, with wine made here consistently since the 12th century. So the story goes, the wines – at the time under the name of La Mothe-Cantenac – were of such repute that they were served at the wedding of Eleanor of Aquitatine and Henry Plantaganet in 1152.  At the southern end of the Margaux appellation, close to the Gironde, its closest neighbours are Prieuré Lichine and Palmer. There are 67 hectares in total, around a charming château (with moat, turrets and all), with vines that are old for the region – some up to 70 years in age. The finest terroir sits within the Clos – the walled vineyard at the heart of the estate; both the Grand Vin and second wine (Blason d’Issan) are sourced exclusively from this section of the property, the latter from the younger vines (20 to 25 years old).   The Cruse family purchased the estate in 1945, and since third-generation Emmanuel took over as director in 1998 (aged just 29), he has poured €10 million into the property – determined to restore it to its former glory. Work has included extensive soil studies, replanting, the purchase of much-needed new equipment and the construction of new cellars. He has also pushed for stricter selection, ensuring only the finest fruit makes it to the Grand Vin (which represents about 55% of production).   While Cabernet Sauvignon (“the king of grapes”, Emmanuel tells me) always leads the blend (normally around 60-65%) at Issan, Emmanuel Cruse has – given the clay subsoils in l’Enclos – moved to include more Merlot, especially in warmer vintages; the clay allowing the fruit to retain more freshness even in dry conditions.  The wine has traditionally been a blend exclusively of Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon but this is set to change in 2020, as – although not blended yet – they are likely to be including small proportions of Cabernet Franc and Petit Verdot. The Merlot thrived in the vintage (it is “tremendous” in the Médoc, Cruse tells me) – managing to ripen sufficiently before the driest part of the summer so that it was less impacted. As such, there will be a little more Merlot in the blend than normal – similar to 2010 and 2015. For Cruse, the Issan style is “magical elegance, with qualitative and precise tannin texture”, true to the terroir of the Clos (“the heart of terroir never changes”). His favourite vintage is the 2010, closely followed by the 2016, but he feels the 2005 is drinking beautifully at the moment – integrated and a joy after a few hours in the decanter. Tasting through the wines was fascinating; showing a clear shift in style from an “old school” leaner style in 2000, through to a plusher, richer expression as in the 2015. One thing is for sure, this property is on an upward trajectory – and one well worth keeping an eye on.  Château d’Issan through the ages  2000 Château d’Issan: A blend of 70% Cabernet Sauvignon and 30% Merlot, this is the vintage Cruse sees as one of the last of the old-style Issan. It is classic Claret – while a little lean for some palates, it’s got a lovely freshness (just 12.9% alcohol), with a slight leafy green character alongside the tertiary profile of leather, cedar, tobacco leaf over dark cassis perfume. The tannins feel resolved, although still offer a little furriness on the gums. Old school.  2005 Château d’Issan: This was, in Cruse’s view, the first “great” vintage for the estate – and one that was very easy for the technical team, and a shift towards including more Merlot (40% of the blend, complemented by 60% Cabernet Sauvignon). It’s instantly more expressive and exotic on the nose – a little more Margaux in nature. There are layers of sweet spice and plummy fruit. The palate is fleshier, rounder and fuller, while the tannins are still firm on the cheeks. Delicious now, but will continue to offer more over the coming decade or so. It’s little surprise tasting this that Parker named it “one of the great Margaux of the vintage” in 2015.   2010 Château d’Issan: The 2010 still feels amazingly youthful, a little warming (13.7% alcohol), with the tannins requiring a few more years to settle. It’s full and rich, dominated by dark, ripe black berry fruit, currants and slightly dried fruit character. Intense at the moment, with a drying finish. Needs time.   2015 Château d’Issan: There was less rain in Margaux in 2015, Cruse noted, something that meant the appellation fared particularly well. The resulting wine is expressive, offering notes of coffee grounds, caramel and smoke over rich currant and cassis fruit. Concentrated and rich, it’s much fresher than the 2010, handling its 13.8% alcohol well. The tannins are ripe but stick out at the moment. Would love to taste this in a decade’s time.  Browse a range of Château d’Issan

Over the last two decades, Emmanuel Cruse has transformed Château d’Issan. We caught up with Cruse to taste through key vintages from the Margaux Classed Growth, tracing its evolution 

Over the last 20 years, Emmanuel Cruse has transformed Château d’Issan. We taste through key vintages from the Margaux Classed Growth, tracing its evolution 

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