Hanyu is a lesser-known, silent Japanese whisky distillery that has become highly coveted since its closure and bottling as part of Ichiro’s much-lauded Card series.

Hanyu 1:1

Hanyu is a silent Japanese whisky distillery famed for producing highly coveted single-cask bottlings of Ichiro’s much-lauded Card series

Hanyu Japanese whisky and Ichiro’s Card series 

Hanyu

Hanyu Distillery 

Matthew Fioretti is not everyone’s cup of tea. The man at the helm of Cerbaiona doesn’t mince his words – and he’s got firm views on, well, I suspect pretty much everything. But he’s also unwaveringly honest, with a frank approach that is enjoyably refreshing – and rather unusual in the fine wine arena. He’s got a vision and story, one that he wants to tell, but it’s not one that’s been spun by a PR agency; it’s his. Fioretti has long been involved in the world of wine, running an import business in the US (Summa Vitis), which focused largely on Italian wine. He moved to Italy in 2004, and shut down the Summa Vitis operation in 2009 as he set his sights on making wine himself. After a few false starts, he heard that Diego Molinari – the longtime owner of Cerbaiona – was looking to retire. Along with a group of investors (the most significant of which is the American collector Gary Rieschel), Fioretti purchased the property in 2015, reportedly for €5.8 million. Molinari was in his 80s and it was clear that – while the site itself was exceptional – the property was run down and needed work. As we reported a few years ago, he promptly embarked on a radical project to restore the property and unexpectedly decided to declassify the 2014 and 2015 vintages to Rosso di Montalcino, only releasing the first Fioretti-era Brunello in 2021, with the 2016 vintage – the first to be made entirely by the new team.  Now, almost a decade later, he’s starting to be able to realise his vision for the estate – as we discovered on a visit earlier this year, with problems that “aren’t easy to solve”. The challenge, he explains, has been evolving from an “artisan” to an “atelier”. Under Molinari, the property developed a legendary reputation, but the operation was rudimentary – a traditional, family business, doing things the way they had always been done. Fioretti wants to bring the estate into the modern era, elevating the terroir with technical precision to craft wines that continue the Cerbaiona legacy. It is, he says, “a transition I wasn’t expecting to make”, but one that he feels is essential to safeguard Cerbaiona’s future. The distinction between artisan and atelier is a nuanced one – but one that comes down to an emphasis on craft rather than art, with a commitment to consistency, for which precision and hygiene in the winery are key, as well as a high level of technical knowledge. He confesses that he had envisaged having a more hands-off approach in the winery, having imported a lot of natural wines in his previous career, but has rapidly realised that top-level winemaking is full of “necessary compromises” (diving into issues like the fault quercetin). As a craft, winemaking can’t just be subject to the “whims of the producer”, as he suggests is the artisanal way. “I prefer to work more meticulously,” he explains. The American talks at pace, flitting from TS Eliot and the concept of “the pure critic” to Albertolli and neoclassicism, in amongst technical detail about fining and filtering. The estate is closed to visitors, deliberately to avoid distraction from what Fioretti wants to be spending his time on – making wine. As he whizzes us round the winery, our heads spinning as we try to absorb every detail, he talks us through exactly how he’s bringing new exactitude to the operation. The vineyards have all been replanted and a steep-sloped olive grove replaced with vines, all with selected rootstocks and clones sourced from France’s Guillaume nursery, to give them the best possible raw material. Once seen as too labour-intensive to farm, he’s convinced the ex-olive grove might just be the best site on the property. The rustic old stables and granary that acted as the cellar and winery have been carefully renovated, with water and drainage installed throughout, and the equipment all updated. Importantly, Fioretti has added a full in-house laboratory – something that is exceedingly rare for a property of this size, let alone Italy where the high-tech approach is far from the norm. The fruit is now all chilled after harvest, de-stemmed and cold-soaked, using inert gas to protect the must. While he used upright wooden tanks for fermentation for his first five vintages, Fioretti switched to stainless steel to allow for better hygiene and temperature control (preferring a maximum 26̊C), as well as allowing him to programme them for automated punch-downs and pump-overs. He’s started co-inoculating for primary and malolactic fermentation, meaning the wines go into barrel very clean – and can be sulphured right away. These are tweaks, minor modernisations, but one of the most significant changes Foretti is making is the time the wine spends in wood. While Molinari favoured four-plus years in 500-litre tonneaux, Fioretti has gradually started bottling the wine earlier and uses a combination of 350-litre barrels and 15-hectolitre casks. “Even two years [the appellation minimum] in wood is too long,” he says – before quickly acknowledging that such a view is far from accepted, and he cannot legally reduce it any further. The various consorzios may not like it, but it’s a view that is increasingly common among younger producers in Italy, who are frustrated by minimum oak-ageing requirements and their contrast with the wines today’s consumers want to drink. As Fioretti says, however, “The notion of wood is very delicate.” And while he’d rather be able to age his wine in other vessels during their first two years of life, he acknowledges that élevage in oak has a beneficial impact on the chemistry of wine – aiding stability. With such a beloved wine, it might seem controversial to change anything – especially the way it’s made, but that hasn’t stopped Fioretti. Looking back at older vintages from the estate, even the legendary 100-point 2010, he is sometimes underwhelmed, feeling that there’s much greater potential. Part of his plan to reflect that potential is bottling earlier, allowing the fruit to shine through and give the wine better balance – something he feels is key for ageing potential. He’s also keen to make sure the wine is moderate in alcohol with maximum 14 or 14.2%, even in the warmest years. And most importantly, he says, good wine has to be delicious. Having tasted the 2019 and 2021 with Fioretti – the results so far really are. There’s a vibrancy and purity that makes them irresistible, while not sacrificing the structure that will allow these wines to go the distance. Alongside Cerbaiona, Fioretti has also created the M.L. Fioretti label, one he describes as “part garagiste, part petit château”. He was keen to explore indigenous grapes, which “are part of the family – but not all thoroughbreds”, as well as plots of Bordeaux varietals (grapes with undeniable pedigree) – provided they’re planted in the right place. The Casaglia Colorino is bright and spicy, while the San Vito (sadly the last vintage of which is 2021) is a beautifully lush and vibrant Merlot. These are fascinating wines that allow Fioretti to experiment more – outside the constrictions of the Brunello di Montalcino appellation. Controversially, Fioretti has declared Cerbaiona a “No Scores Zone”, echoing the sentiment of Teobaldo Cappellano that numerical ratings are divisive, at best – and don’t do justice to the craft of winemaking. In his notes on the 2018 vintage, Fioretti wrote: “This is another vintage for the connoisseur, that true lover of wine and the vine. So be it if the ‘collector’ misses out.” Feathers might be ruffled by such remarks, but the motivation here is clear: an earnest passion for wine. It’s something that shines through in our conversation – and in the wines he’s making. You won’t find ratings online for new vintages of Cerbaiona, but one thing’s for sure: you’ll want them in your cellar. Explore all current Cerbaiona and M.L. Fioretti listings, or read more about Italy

You won’t have seen any reviews for Cerbaiona since Matthew Fioretti took over the cult Montalcino address – and that’s for good reason. We caught up with the notorious American taking charge, and leading change, at the estate

It’s all change at the cult Brunello di Montalcino winery Cerbaiona since Matthew Fioretti took over in 2015. We sat down with him to find out more.

Change at Cerbaiona – Matthew Fioretti

Change at Cerbaiona: Matthew Fioretti

Broad in build and sporting a leather necklace, Mike Ratcliffe looks like a man who would be good at wrangling cattle. But that burly side is countered by an accent softened by time working and studying abroad (not to mention being married to a Brit), and a certain polish – even after an overnight flight from the Cape – that speaks of the business sphere. It’s clear that he’s no-nonsense – a man with ambition, and not one, I suspect, you’d want to get on the wrong side of. But it’s also clear that his savvy brand-building has been key to the success of Vilafonté.  He is a man with a plan – a 100-year plan, in fact. As of December last year, when co-founders Dr Zelma Long and Dr Phil Freese retired, Ratcliffe is the lone man at the helm of Vilafonté – a wine producer that has been attracting increasing amounts of attention. In a recent report for the Wine Advocate, Anthony Mueller wrote, “Vilafonté continues inching toward triple digits with a spectacular array of new releases” – awarding its 2021 Series C 99 points (making it the joint-highest-scoring South African wine to date, sitting alongside Sadie’s 2021 Palladius and an 1800 Muscat of Alexandria from Jaubert). But Ratcliffe’s not resting on his laurels: as he tells me, “If you’re going to do anything, go 100%.”  Ratcliffe’s family owned Warwick Estate – and as the world opened up to South African wine in the wake of apartheid – they realised they needed help developing their wines. Although Warwick was one of the nation’s stalwart names, “We were the big fish in the small pond,” says Ratcliffe – and to grow internationally, they needed outside input. They hired Phil Freese – then Vice President of Winegrowing at Robert Mondavi and responsible for planting the first Opus One vineyards – as viticultural consultant (for a “staggering” fee, Ratcliffe tells me). The investment paid off and after two years, they had made amazing progress – and Freese suggested they use Zelma Long (previously of Robert Mondavi, then Simi) to consult on the winemaking side.  At the same time Freese was working on his PhD, which involved research on the world’s oldest soils – many of which he discovered were in southern Africa. The oldest documented soil in Africa is vilafontes, thought to have originated 800 million years ago – and he, along with Long (whom he later married), started wondering about this soil’s potential for wine. The couple – along with the help of an investor Sydney Back – bought 40 hectares of land in 1996, at the foot of the Simonsberg mountain in Paarl, planting their first vines the following year. Vilafonté was born.  Ratcliffe had been working abroad as a skipper, before heading off to Roseworthy to get his MBA in wine in 1999, but had met Long and Freese through their work at Warwick, and was keeping an eye on their new venture. Soon after he returned back home, Sydney Back – a man Ratcliffe describes as “the Robert Mondavi of South Africa” – passed away, meaning Long and Freese were looking for a new partner. Impulsively, Ratcliffe volunteered – scrambling to get the money together in time for the deal to be finalised in 2001.   The trio made wines in 2000 and 2001 but only to get a feel for the site, planning to make 2002 their first release. Unfortunately, the vintage was tricky and Long told them firmly: “It’s good – but it’s not good enough.” It’s a decision that the bank didn’t necessarily appreciate (“That was a tough year,” says Ratcliffe) – but allowed them to launch with 2003, “arguably the best vintage of the decade” according to Ratcliffe (and a wine that he tells me is still “impeccable”). No one seems to be clear on how “vilafontes” became Vilafonté – whether it was a marketing decision to add a Gallic twist to the name, or just a mistake somewhere along the way – but it stuck.  They had originally planned to make a single Grand Vin, but the site had other ideas – producing two distinct styles, and so they created Series C (a Cabernet-driven blend) and Series M (a Merlot-driven blend). It may not make perfect business sense, having two flagship wines, but repeat experiments have (so far, at least) confirmed it was the right choice. While some plots clearly belong to C or M, the blends are different each year – and younger-vine fruit or anything that doesn’t fit is declassified to Seriously Old Dirt. This latter wine was launched with the 2012 vintage, using purchased fruit from around the Western Cape as well as declassified plots to provide an earlier-drinking entry-point to the Vilafonté brand.   The secret to the wines is the soil – incredibly poor, ancient soils, degraded and nutrient-deficient – meaning the vines really struggle. Even 27 years on, the vines are scrawny little things – producing tiny yields of concentrated fruit. It’s one reason that the site had – to their knowledge – never been planted, and local farmers were puzzled why anyone decided to put down roots here. Combine that with a “deeply pragmatic” approach (in Ratcliffe’s own words), and a long-term team dedicated to doing “the same thing over and over and over”, and you have the recipe for something special. In Ratcliffe’s mind, it’s key that they aren’t trying to create something new each vintage – but continue their pursuit of perfection with Series C and M. They work sustainably but sensibly, with cover crops, high-tech underground drip irrigation and a cellar that operates purely on solar power, but avoid certification or trading on any green credentials: for the Vilafonté team, it is all about the quality in the bottle.  For years, Ratcliffe juggled managing both Warwick and Vilafonté, but eventually sold his old family business to a California-based venture capital fund, allowing him to focus exclusively on Vilafonté. The property has just released its 2021s, the 18th vintage to emerge from the Paarl estate – and its top-scoring wines to date. Yet Ratcliffe is clear that this is just the latest step in his masterplan. The vines are yet to turn 30, and there are a few small parcels on the estate that could still be planted, while the team is constantly running trials – empowered to challenge everything they think they know. Just last December (2023), Long and Freese retired – after a four-year handover period, but will remain loosely involved. Ratcliffe isn’t looking back, though: as he says, “Our greatest wines are ahead of us.”  Vilafonté’s 2021 releases are available now  Read more Editorial  

The Wine Advocate is yet to grant any South African wine a perfect score – but some are getting close. Most recently, Vilafonté earned 99 points for its 2021 Series C. As it’s released, we sit down with owner Mike Ratcliffe to find out about this Paarl project and its rapid trajectory to stardom

Wine Advocate recently awarded Vilafonte’s 2021 Series C 99 points – we sat down with owner Mike Ratcliffe to find out more about the Paarl wine estate

Kicking the dirt with Vilafonte’s Mike Ratcliffe

Kicking the dirt with Vilafonté’s Mike Ratcliffe

Walking into the cooperage at Ch. Smith Haut Lafitte is like stepping back in time, filled with the smell of seasoned wood, an open fire and the same tools that barrel-makers have used for centuries. Few estates have the luxury of an in-house cooper. While producers inevitably work closely with the tonnelleries (barrel-making firms, such as François Frères, Stockinger and more), having an artisan on-site, working alongside the winemaking team to craft casks exclusively for your specific terroir is different. “It’s very important for the precision of the wine,” explains Cellar Master Yann Laudeho.  Florence and Daniel Cathiard, owners of the Pessac-Léognan estate, built a cooperage on-site almost 30 years ago, in 1995, and their current cooper, Yann Dez, has been working here since 2021. The Bordeaux native’s father was a metal worker, and Dez fell into the world of barrel-making entirely by accident – having a friend who was a tonnelier, and a job opening at an opportune moment. Before he knew it, Dez had learnt the trade from some of the best coopers in the country (including one who now makes the barrels at Ch. Margaux), and spending 15 years working under Didier Fesil. Fesil was the Cathiard family’s first cooper back in 1995, who went on to create his own small tonnellerie (Tonnellerie Bordelaise), and has been named the nation’s best “Master Cooper” – twice. Indeed, Fesil is still very involved with the estate, helping choose the wood for barrels and advising on all things oak; and it was Fesil who put Dez forward for the role at Smith Haut Lafitte.  “There are no books,” Dez says, when I ask about the art of barrel-making. “It’s passed on from tonnelier to tonnelier." The first evidence of coopering as a trade dates back to 900BC – with the craft passed down the generations ever since. “I continue the tradition,” Dez says, clearly with a sense of pride in this ancient, artisanal skill. But with the dust, noise and physical labour involved, tonnellerie schools, Dez tells me, are struggling to recruit young people. It’s common for coopers to have issues with their shoulders and ears (from the non-stop hammering) – and Dez himself has broken an elbow.  In theory, the process can be mechanised – but Dez is clear on how important it is to work by hand, and not just to preserve this ancient art. “I hear the nose, I feel the resistance,” he says. Each barrel, he explains, is different – with a slightly different number of staves and slightly different shape, all adapted according to the wood he’s working with. Selecting the right wood is key – “reading” it, he explains, looking at the grain to see where potential weaknesses are, understanding where will take the most pressure and placing each stave accordingly, ensuring not a drop can seep from the finished barrel. “It’s a job that is both physical, and at the same time requires thinking,” says Dez – and this combination is much of its allure for him.  Hearing the way Dez talks about barrels is fascinating; for him, they each have a unique personality. When I ask Dez how he knows he’s made a really good barrel, he shrugs: “On le sent.” (“You feel it.”) As you toast a barrel, he tells me, the scent of the smoke changes, releasing different aromas – something I smell as he works in front of me. Knowing when it’s spent the perfect amount of time over the fire is the secret – and it’s about more than just the smell, it’s a gut instinct that he can’t quite explain.  Smith Haut Lafitte sources oak from a range of forests, and are always trialling wood from different forests, toasts and doing blind tastings, although – after over 25 years – they know what works for their wine, and terroir. Cellar Master Laudeho explains that, for him, Tronçais and Jupilles are the best – “diamonds” that flawlessly complement their site. And that balance is key; the wood works for the wine, not the other way around.  It seems like a lonely job, I comment, hammering away in his tower – but it’s not something that bothers him. “I’m a bit of a perfectionist,” he tells me. Having only himself to depend on, and knowing that he can ensure each barrel meets his exacting standards, suits him. Indeed, he doesn’t even settle for standard tools – making most himself, custom-designed to suit the way he works. He talks me through a specific hammer that he made, and how it allows him to work better and more precisely, the wooden handle almost silken from the hours of use, shaped to his hand.   The lone electronic technology to have earned a place here are noise-cancelling headphones and a Marshall speaker. He’s a musician in his spare time, and an additional perk of working alone is that he gets to spend all day listening to music. “All the barrels I’ve made,” he says, “are made with music.” He avoids anything too modern or electronic, favouring old jazz, with some reggae, ska jazz and funk in the mix, depending on the day. While he doesn’t feel the music he listens to influences his coopering, he suspects his mood does – and music is a big part of that.  Woodwork is much more than a job for Dez. I spy a beautiful chest alongside his speaker, and it’s one that he made. He has a workshop at home too, spending his free time making everything from guitar stands and toys to chandeliers – anything, he says, that isn’t straight, and therefore can’t really be done by a machine.  It’s amazing watching him work – in the same way as coopers have for centuries – with a natural intuition, ease and precision. There’s definitely something musical to it, a craft that has its own rhythm. He makes around 300 barrels a year, and they may not be soloists – but each one contributes their own note to that year’s symphony.  Explore all current listings of Ch. Smith Haut Lafitte or read more about Bordeaux 

Wooden barrels line most of the finest wine cellars around the world – and many are made by hand. Continuing our series taking you behind the scenes in Bordeaux, we ducked into the cooperage at Smith Haut Lafitte to find out more about this special craft

We visited Pessac-Leognan’s Smith Haut Lafitte to talk to the wine estate’s master cooper, Yann Dez – and find out all about the art of barrel-making

Meeting Smith Haut Lafitte’s Master Cooper

Working to the beat: Smith Haut Lafitte’s Master Cooper

“It’s difficult when you don’t have vines, a winery, any equipment or money,” Stéphane Dief – co-owner and winemaker at Clos Manou – tells me. “You say you want to be a winemaker, but it is complicated. Our advantage, however, was being able to do exactly what we wanted.” Over the last 25 years, he and his wife Françoise have slowly grown their tiny estate in the northern reaches of the Médoc, beyond Saint-Estèphe, where they make wine that offers some of the best value in the region.  Saint-Christoly-Médoc – the miniscule village that is home to their domaine – is where Stéphane grew up, while Françoise is from less than 15km away. Although Françoise’s family had vines, neither she nor Stéphane were working in the production side of the business, but they fell in love with wine. Via his brothers-in-law – who worked at Ch. Mouton Rothschild and Ch. Rauzan-Sègla – Stéphane started tasting some special wines, buying older vintages at auction – and was soon determined to give it a go himself.  Together, the couple bought a mere 12 ares and produced their first vintage in 1998, 600 bottles that they labelled as Clos Manou – “Clos” because they felt it wasn’t grand enough to use “Château”, and “Manou”, Stéphane’s nickname. It was such a success that their hobby rapidly became a full-time gig and the duo left their day jobs in 2000.  In some ways it doesn’t sound like they were doing anything remarkable. They wanted to make attractive wines that reflected their site, and to do so with precision and care. Their ambitions were modest. And yet, for Bordeaux, their small-scale, hand-crafted approach was – and is – atypical.  They sought out specific parcels of old vines, those planted before clonal material became commonplace, favouring the natural complexity of massal selection. They chose to work only with high-density vineyards – around 10,000 vines per hectare, a point at which Stéphane feels the vines self-regulate, meaning there’s no need to green harvest and often less de-leafing required.  In principle, they are close to organic – however, in a bid to avoid dependency on copper, they use bio-controls that aren’t permitted under organics, specifically phosphonic acid. They don’t use any herbicides, insecticides or chemicals – but believe that copper, as a heavy metal that kills soil’s microbiome, is best used minimally, and they prefer to use something that doesn’t leave trace levels in the final wine.   Almost everything is done by hand, with 12 full-time employees working on the estate. There are no protocols or routines. “We do things by watching, observing our vines and drawing conclusions and echoing those conclusions the following year,” Stéphane says.  The 2003 vintage was a turning point. Robert Parker gave the wine 93 points – an incredible score for such a modest Médoc, writing that it was “better than many of the vintage’s ‘big’ names”, “drop-dead-gorgeous” and a “prodigious effort”. Given the critic was at his peak, his influence was significant – and suddenly Clos Manou was in enormous demand.  “C’est notre métier, mais notre passion aussi," Stéphane says – “It’s our profession, but it’s our passion too." That explains perhaps why, for 11 years, he didn’t take a day off. “My wife wasn’t very happy with me,” Stéphane tells me, laughing cheekily.   Today they have 18.5 hectares of vines, scattered between Saint-Christoly-Médoc and Couquèques, all within a three-kilometre radius. They sit across three different soil types – gravel over clay, limestone-clay and sand, with some sitting very close to the estuary itself. Stéphane thinks of them as three children – one of which, the gravel over clay, is naturally gifted. But just because the other two need a bit more work, doesn’t mean they are any lesser. There is, he says, no such thing as “un petit terroir”. One special parcel dates back to 1850. Planted before phylloxera swept through the region, it’s managed to survive thanks to its sandy soils. In certain vintages they make a special “Cuvée 1850” from the block.  Despite the vines averaging 45 years in age, the yields are generally good – sitting at around 50hl/ha. Stéphane emphasises that low yields don’t equate to better quality, necessarily – the balance of your vines is what matters most.  It’s undeniable that climate change has been a benefit here, beyond Saint-Estèphe, where once it was a struggle to ripen fruit. In 2018, Clos Manou had 15% alcohol – but, thanks to their clay soils, the pH was a vibrant 3.52, bringing great freshness to balance the wine. He’s still thinking about the long-term impact of the rising mercury, however, and experimenting with small portions of whole-bunch, inspired by the likes of Guillaume Pouthier at Les Carmes Haut-Brion. Stéphane feels that it can add tension and make the wines feel more dynamic, even on just 5% of the blend. “On est des vrais vignerons – comme il y a en Bourgogne," Stéphane tells me ("We are true vignerons – as there are in Burgundy"). Unlike larger properties where there are various directors who influence decisions – it’s just them deciding what to do. Despite looking further afield for their inspiration, he and Françoise don’t want to go against the grain of the region. “We want to be a bit unorthodox, but we are nevertheless Bordelais,” he says.  Clos Manou is, in essence, a family business. There’s nothing remarkable about their modest ways, but their freedom to start with a blank page has allowed them to create something that is no longer the norm. Inspired by the Bordeaux of yesteryear, everything is low-tech yet done with great precision. The wines are fresh and pure, yet distinctly savoury and earthy – with a natural intensity that points to their old vines. You can see the addition of larger oak and amphorae in more recent vintages, bringing more vibrancy. They are somehow rustic yet fine. Little has changed here since 1998; let’s hope that that remains the case, and the Dief family continue to craft humble expressions of Bordeaux that are very much extraordinary.  Browse all listings of Clos Manou or read more about Bordeaux 

At first glance, Clos Manou might seem run-of-the-mill. But this small estate in the Médoc is far from it. We sat down with Stéphane Dief to talk about how a hobby became his life, the freedom of a fresh start, and why his family’s wines are worth seeking out

We talk to Stephane Dief about his family estate in the Medoc, Clos Manou – one of Bordeaux’s best-value wines and best-kept secrets

Why Clos Manou is anything but ordinary

Anything but ordinary: Clos Manou

It’s easy to sneer at Sauvignon Blanc. Its success has been its downfall. It’s one of the most popular varieties planted around the world – coming in just behind Airén (grown widely for distillation, rather than wine) and Chardonnay. In New Zealand alone – a nation that has fully tied its cart to Sauvignon Blanc – 26,559 of its 41,603 hectares of vines are dedicated to the grape (for context, the entirety of Burgundy represents a little over 28,000 hectares). It accounts for over 86% of the nation’s wine exports (the next most exported variety is Pinot Noir, at less than 4%). And yet, wine cognoscenti are inclined to dismiss it.  The variety’s historic heartland is the Loire, where it was first recorded in the 16th century, but has since spread rampantly around the globe, finding its way into almost every corner. Indeed, there’s even a remote stretch of Burgundy dedicated to the grape (Saint-Bris). It also gave us Cabernet Sauvignon, of which it is a parent, along with Cabernet Franc – which is some legacy.  In her benchmark Vines, Grapes & Wines, Jancis Robinson MW describes Sauvignon Blanc as “aggressively recognisable”. With descriptors such as cat’s pee, gooseberry, passionfruit, capsicum, grapefruit and cut-grass stereotypical, it’s hard to disagree – but there’s much more to the grape. Today, the distinctive variety is responsible for the flinty styles of Sancerre and Pouilly-Fumé, more waxy, textured Bordeaux Blanc (where it is most often – but not always – blended with Semillon and aged in oak), the exuberantly pungent styles of Marlborough, richer, weightier northern Italian examples (not to mention many with extended skin contact) – and everything in between.  Ch. Margaux’s Pavillon Blanc is one of the most famous examples of Sauvignon Blanc – and rare in Bordeaux (at the top end of the category, at least) for not including any Semillon, which has never been planted on the site. Their archive has records back to the 18th century of a “vin de sauvignon” from the property. Tasting the wine, it’s always hard to believe it hasn’t been rounded out by its local partner – and this, Aurélien Valance, says is all to do with achieving the perfect level of ripeness.  “When [people] think Sauvignon Blanc, they think about unripe Sauvignon Blanc. When it is ripe, it can have very complex and floral perfume – but the problem is that it is very difficult to get it ripe and keep enough acidity,” the Deputy Managing Director explains. Working with old vines (around 50 years old), low yields and strict selection allows Ch. Margaux, however, to produce an exceptional, age-worthy white – one that “smells of Sauvignon Blanc – but not the Sauvignon Blanc that people are used to”. For Christian Patat – the winemaker behind L’Età Più Bella and Ronco del Gnemiz, who also worked at Miani – the perfect harvest date is key to giving Sauvignon “verticality”, especially in Friuli where the wines are naturally bigger and richer than those from the Loire. If you pick too late, it becomes all about the variety – rather than the site. For him, Sauvignon Blanc is an “amplifier of different soils”, which is why he has ended up making six different single-site expressions with his wife at Ronco del Gnemiz, all made the same way so that the terroir shines through in each. Omri Ram – of Société Civile du Ch. Lafleur – echoes this idea, feeling there’s a particularly narrow window for picking Sauvignon Blanc, before the variety becomes a caricature of itself. He argues there is a “valley between two aromatic peaks” in which Sauvignon Blanc must be harvested, a window that lasts maximum three days, but as little as 20 hours in a hot vintage – so it’s essential to watch your fruit carefully, and make sure it’s on the right soils (with clay to help retain freshness and avoid hydric stress).   Patat – like the team at Ch. Margaux – is fortunate to farm old Sauvignon vines, between 40 and 50 years in age. This is ancient for the variety, which is naturally vigorous and very susceptible to Eutypa and Esca (grapevine trunk diseases which slowly kill the vine), meaning finding vines above the age of 30 is increasingly rare. Marco Simonit – the man behind the Simonit & Sirch method and master pruner to the world’s leading producers – feels that vine age, however, is key to making a “vin de lieu” (a wine of place) – and therefore combatting the onset of disease is essential for crafting great Sauvignon Blanc. He notes how it’s not just that Sauvignon (referenced affectionately as “this guy” during our conversation) seems to be more inclined to develop Eutypa/Esca, but it suffers more when diseased – showing its symptoms much more than other vines, as is most clearly seen in Bordeaux where it is farmed side-by-side with Semillon.  “I think we need to reconsider the spacing and architecture of the vines,” Simonit says. He feels that these older vineyards have survived thanks to their wider spacing, allowing each vine more room to sprawl naturally. Robert Mondavi’s I Block is a prime example – the plot of Sauvignon Blanc in To Kalon planted in the mid-1940s. These untrellised, freestanding tree-like plants stand proud and sparse, producing wine that – in Mark de Vere MW’s words – offer “a different type of complexity, elegance”, yielding just half a ton an acre. Simonit is convinced that the increased vine density of the last 30 years has contributed to the higher incidence of grapevine trunk diseases, and this type of “dynamic” architecture, exemplified by the unfashionable California sprawl, may be the solution to Sauvignon Blanc’s short life-span, helping minimise pruning cuts and giving it the space it needs – but does need to be adapted to the individual site and climate.   Andy Erickson – winemaker at Favia and star consultant – now makes wine in To Kalon (under the To Kalon Vineyard Company label) – but has fond memories of I Block, as he would trespass to taste the Sauvignon Blanc at harvest time – loving the flavour of the grape just on the cusp of harvest. He was the one who suggested planting Sauvignon Blanc at Screaming Eagle – which produces a tiny amount (30-50 cases only) of incredibly sought-after Sauvignon. There was a tiny corner of the vineyard with more alluvial, clay soils – a site that wouldn’t produce a Screaming-Eagle-grade red, so he suggested it be used for Sauvignon Blanc and Musqué (an aromatic clone of the variety, also planted at Eisele Vineyard – where it represents 80% of the vineyard). “The challenge with Sauvignon Blanc is you really need to plant it on Cabernet Sauvignon ground to make the best wines, and so it takes someone who’s really passionate – or maybe a little crazy to do that,” Erickson says.  While the Loire’s top wines have always been accepted as fine wine, as with top white Bordeaux, Sauvignon Blanc under its own name didn’t make it big until the late 20th century. Robert Mondavi shifted perceptions in California – but only by rebranding the variety. In the late 1960s, at a time when most Sauvignon Blanc in America was low quality and sweet, he created Fumé Blanc – legally registering the term as a synonym for Sauvignon Blanc with the TTB (Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau). With its European feel (inspired of course by Pouilly-Fumé), he made dry, serious Sauvignon Blanc – and, at the top end, fermented the wine in oak. At the time, it was radical – and soon the wines earned international acclaim.  Meanwhile, something was going on Down Under. David Hohnen – who had just won a Jimmy Watson trophy for his Cabernet Sauvignon at Cape Mentelle, Margaret River – was visited by a handful of travelling Kiwi winemakers. They left him with a bottle of something new, a Sauvignon Blanc (which had only been planted for the first time in New Zealand in 1973). “He hadn’t tasted anything like it before,” Jim White, Cloudy Bay’s Technical Director, tells me. Hohnen happened to have a Kiwi cellar hand at the time, and asked him to bring back more Sauvignon when he went home for Christmas. In 1984, Hohnen went to New Zealand. He persuaded Kevin Judd – then winemaker at Selaks – to come make wine for him. They couldn’t find Sauvignon Blanc at first, so the first vintage in 1984 was a Marlborough Semillon. The following vintage, they bought a truckload of Sauvignon Blanc from Marlborough, and ferried it all the way up to Gisborne to make the wine.  With such a small population, machine harvesting was the only option in New Zealand – and this, combined with the additional skin contact from the fruit’s minimum 12-hour journey to Gisborne, extracted more tannin than they’d wanted, but also thiol precursors – the compounds responsible for Sauvignon’s pungent aromas. Hohnen didn’t put “New Zealand” on the front label, feeling people wouldn’t take it seriously. By 1986, they had built their own winery (having persuaded an angling-loving Scot to stump up a million dollars to fund the project, on the basis that he’d have access to the best trout fishing in the world). The vineyards needed work – and Hohnen’s experience was key, bringing knowledge of canopy management, reducing water and nitrogen and reducing yields. The wines took off, and Cloudy Bay was born.  For White, vineyard location is the foundation of top Sauvignon Blanc – needing stony, free-draining soils to contain the variety’s natural vigour, hence why they prefer the heart of the Wairau Valley. Combine this with enough leaf plucking to allow for sufficient airflow, but avoid over-exposing the fruit, and this allows them to harvest ripe fruit that still has beautiful acidity – echoing Valance’s views at Ch. Margaux. The important thing for them is to avoid the “big green monster” – ensuring they have no methoxypyrazines (green compounds), which happen to be some of the most stable compounds during maturation, and don’t disappear with time in bottle.  In New Zealand, the variety has been a victim of its own success – shoehorned as crisp, fresh and nothing more. And while that style brings undeniable joy, there are an increasing number of wines being made with wild yeast and oak to produce a less exuberant and primary style – such as Dog Point’s Section 94 and Greywacke’s Wild Sauvignon. In the Loire, it seems to be increasingly common to see oak, while in Bordeaux, there’s a shift away from, or toward reducing the use of, wood. As Pierre-Olivier Clouet of Cheval Blanc told me, in the past white Bordeaux was “too green, too excessive, too much, too oaky, too fat… too boring” – he feels that the answer isn’t necessarily to reduce the proportion of new oak, but to increase the size of barrels and age the wine longer, so that the oak adds a silkiness, density and bitterness to the finish – but not to the aromatics.   A common accusation of Sauvignon Blanc is that it doesn’t age – something many feel is a prerequisite for “fine” wine. But that simply isn’t true. If you’ve never tasted old Marlborough Sauvignon, you’re missing out. I had a bottle of 1999 Cloudy Bay a few years ago – and it was extraordinary. White, who has tasted many more mature vintages from the iconic estate than me, describes it as a little like old Semillon or Loire Chenin – developing toasty, honeyed notes, yet it retains the overt freshness and expressiveness of the distinctive style. Ch. Margaux was recently reconditioning their stocks of Pavillon Blanc, and Valance had the opportunity to taste vintages back to 1926 – almost all of which he says were fabulous. He feels it ages at least 20-30 years, and more in top years.  Today, things have come full circle – Sauvignon Blanc is a brand of its own, and Robert Mondavi is even dropping the “Fumé Blanc” phrasing from its more entry-level bottlings of the variety. But, despite this and the undeniable quality of the wines, Sauvignon Blanc never quite seems to steal the limelight. “There’s a glass ceiling for Sauvignon Blanc,” White says. “It’s about 93 points.” The Cloudy Bay team was delighted when their oaked, limited-edition Te Koko cuvée earned 95 points in Decanter last year – but it’s the exception, rather than the rule. And even though they’ve had wines score higher than Pavillon Blanc, they’ll rarely be considered in the same category as either those, or the likes of the Loire’s Dagueneau and Vatan. “It’s too easy for people to understand, it makes it too enjoyable – and therefore it’s no longer the coveted thing that you have to have years of education to appreciate,” White says.  In an age of unicorn-hunting, “popular” can be the ultimate insult. And yet there’s a reason that so many people have fallen for the charms of Sauvignon Blanc. Don’t let its commercial success put you off – there’s much more to this grape than first meets the eye.  Keep an eye out for our pick of the best Sauvignon Blanc from around the world – or, in the meantime, read more Editorial 

Maligned by many, adored by more, Sauvignon Blanc divides wine-drinkers – and no more so than the wine-drinking elite. But why? Sophie Thorpe talks to the people behind some of the world’s best examples to explore the grape’s status today

Sauvignon Blanc divides wine-drinkers – and no more so than the wine-drinking elite. But why? Cloudy Bay, Ch. Margaux, Andy Erickson and others tell us more

Sauvignon Blanc – fashion victim

Fashion victim: Sauvignon Blanc

Over the next few weeks and months, you will start reaping the benefits of our new-and-improved buying and trading platform, built following extensive user feedback and testing. Peer-to-peer trading, real-time market updates and richer buying guides will all combine to assist you in making the most informed buying decisions about your collection.  This new technology is designed to improve your experience. Each and every feature is focused on your needs, ensuring your fine wine and spirits buying and selling journey is more intuitive and efficient than ever – receiving the very best service, wherever you are in the world. This article is the first of many regular updates which will introduce and focus on these changes, explaining how they benefit you and the collection you already have with us. NEW MY F+R AND TRADING PLATFORM This year, we will launch a new Portfolio/My F+R platform, which has been built following your feedback to fundamentally improve your experience. Market data will be used to inform you about key trading opportunities and how these might affect your portfolio. There will be even greater integration between the checkout journey and the Editorial section, enabling you to read the most current long-form features on the regions, wines, spirits and producers you are interested in. Fine wine and spirits insights will also automatically populate with newly released critic scores, real-time market demand and signposted relevant Editorial content. Peer-to-peer trading will also become available, as you will be able to set your own trading prices online using market insight and data, list and unlist products, with new features to receive or place bids. For the first time, you will also be able to see a single-page cellar view featuring all the most critical buying and trading facts, which is a significant reduction from the current four pages. EN PRIMEUR + RICHER MORE INFORMATIVE BUYING GUIDES Our first global Bordeaux en primeur campaign will launch in May with a detailed report on the 2022 vintage (read our initial thoughts on the year here), with representatives from all our local teams spending time in the region, tasting the wines. Not only will all clients globally have access to our in-depth reporting (as well as access to expert advice from their local teams), but there will also be the opportunity to pre-order wines. This year, you will also have access to hundreds of in-depth region and producer guides. At present, our site boasts 475 articles and 290 producer profiles – and this number will continue to grow as more at-a-glance shorter-form articles and more comprehensive, multi-page reports on the wines and spirits you are most interested in will be available to help you make the most informed buying decision in your local market.  GLOBAL EVENTS  We are also working on an exciting global events calendar with some of the world’s most venerable producers. Global events have been part of the FINE+RARE Group for several years. Halted during Covid, these returned with a vengeance in 2022 with over 20 intimate tastings and dinners with many of the world's most venerable producers, including Château Rayas, Ausone, Le Pin, Pétrus, Harlan Estate and Domaine des Comtes Lafon at remarkable venues such as The Ritz, Claridge's and The Connaught. OPTIMISED CHECKOUT Features will be introduced later this year to facilitate multi-currency purchasing online. Improvements will also be made to the current checkout journey, making it more intuitive and efficient. There will also be a greater ability for customers to settle delivery costs online, taking into account reservist sales and credit note proceeds at checkout, and offsetting these against orders. GLOBAL FINERARE.COM AND LOCAL DOMAIN LAUNCHES Over the next 12 months, significant changes will also be introduced to improve your online service needs, starting with a user-centred website (with a new URL) which will launch this spring. The global website will provide greater visibility for sourcing new wines, as well as improve how you manage your collection. It will also include improved order tracking and account status updates. Additionally, the existing search and filter journey will be improved and the Editorial section will be easier to navigate, signposting you to richer, localised content to help you make the most informed purchase possible. You'll be able to explore and register interest in our global events online, and you'll now also have access to local stock availability, services and listings. In time, each market will get their own tailored website signposting the most relevant educational and informative content as well as invites to tastings. For the first time, it will also be possible to view and access local services and inventories of wines and spirits in local markets, and connect with other local-market sellers. This is just the beginning of an exciting chapter and we look forward to communicating all of these features, including the ability for suppliers and producers to manage their own marketplace (which will increase the number of real-time products available on the platform), in due course. It has never been a more interesting time to buy and sell wines and spirits in this ever-evolving global marketplace. If you have any questions or feedback about this, or anything else, please contact Group CEO Patrick O'Connor directly 

There are many exciting changes coming your way this year, including a new-and-improved buying and trading platform, industry-leading events and world-class buying and region guides. We examine how these changes will benefit you – and your collection

Exploring exciting changes, including a new-and-improved buying and trading platform, industry-leading events and world-class buying and region guides

How the company is evolving

How FINE+RARE is evolving

To Kalon. For any Californian winemaker, those two words represent the Holy Grail. This vineyard in Oakville, Napa, is undeniably the region’s most famous. Perched at the foot of the Mayacamas, west of Highway 29, this site has been recognised for producing fine wine since the 19th century. Literally translating as the “highest beauty” or “highest good” from Greek, today To Kalon is home to some of Napa’s oldest vines and best Cabernet Sauvignon. “This is a Grand Cru – a premier property,” Paul Hobbs tells me, a winemaker who has a long history with the site. As a grad student at UC Davis, Hobbs would swipe the second crop from a vineyard on Walnut Drive – what happened to be BV4, Beaulieu Vineyard’s original block of To Kalon. At Mondavi – the largest holder of the hallowed site – he got to walk the rows more legitimately, and used those holdings to build Opus One – the company’s joint venture with Ch. Mouton Rothschild (although the association with the site has generally been played down). Under his own label, he’s been making wine from the Beckstoffer section of the vineyard since 1999 – and his wines, along with those from Schrader, were some of the early bottlings that put the vineyard firmly on the fine wine map, earning high scores – and lots of attention. Indeed, it was a Paul Hobbs wine that made Tor Kenward believe the vineyard was truly special. André Tchelistcheff had spoken to Kenward about BV4, but it was one of Hobbs’s bottlings that made him realise its potential. He started working with Beckstoffer plots from 2005. 
“It’s not visually impressive; it doesn’t have that ‘wow factor’,” Kenward tells me. But start digging below the surface, and you realise that you’re in the “tenderloin of Napa”, with old creek beds that run through the site. It’s an alluvial fan that runs down from the Mayacamas, sitting almost on a bench – with very little elevation. But the soils here are varied, with deep, well-drained gravels that make it perfect for Cabernet Sauvignon.  Andy Erickson – a winemaker whose resume includes Screaming Eagle, Harlan, Dalla Valle, Mayacamas and many more – first worked with the site in 2012, on a single-barrel charity lot for an auction at his children’s school. When Constellation (owners of Mondavi and co-owners of Opus One) called him to give him the chance to work with it again in 2016, he didn’t hesitate. That year, he made the first wine for the To Kalon Vineyard Company – a project that is a revival of the brand created by H.W. Crabb (known variously as Henry Walker, Hiram Walker or Hamilton Walker Crabb) in 1886, the vineyard’s godfather. “Most people know the recent history of the vineyard, and the acclaim of the wines from the past 15-20 years. But the vineyard was known for producing remarkable wines all the way back in the late 19th century. Clearly there is something there,” Erickson says.  But this vineyard is weighed down with controversy – its borders endlessly debated, with producers vying for use of the To Kalon name.  The history of the To Kalon Vineyard It’s impossible to look at To Kalon today without tracing its origins. H.W. Crabb came west from Ohio during the Gold Rush, spending six months digging in the Sierras before settling in Oakville in 1868, buying 240 acres of land at the corner of Highway 29 and Walnut Drive. He planted a wide range of crops, first making wine in 1872 under the name Hermosa Vineyards (“hermosa” meaning “beautiful” in Spanish). In 1881, he acquired another 119 acres from Eliza Yount (whose name lives on in Yountville). On land to the west of his plots, owned by John Davis, he planted additional vines – buying the fruit off Davis to feed his increasing production. In 1886, he gave his company a new name: “To Kalon Vineyard Company” – and the legend was born. Crabb reportedly said, “The name To-Kalon… means the highest beauty, or the highest good, but I try to make it mean the boss vineyard.”
 To Kalon Vineyard Company rapidly became one of the region’s largest – and most well-respected – wine producers. His wines started winning awards at competitions around the world, and he was the first to start selling wine along the East Coast. He had planted a huge range of grapes – around 400 different varieties, including Malvasia, Riesling, Chasselas, Muscat, Refosco and Cabernet Sauvignon, with the latter in particular thriving. In 1889, he bought 168 acres on the hillside to the south, close to where Harlan is now based, although it was never planted with vines during Crabb’s lifetime. In 1891, Crabb bought Davis’s 135 acres (from which he’d already been buying the fruit). In total, Crabb had more than 359 acres.  But his success wasn’t to last – phylloxera arrived in the late 19th century, and recession along with it. In 1898, Crabb sold the 135 acres he’d bought just eight years earlier – and died one year later in 1899. The vines were ripped out, replaced by cherry trees under David Perry Doak in 1911, who in turn purchased another 500 acres of vines from John Benson, south of the border of the original To Kalon (across Oakville Grade Road), which is now all owned by Constellation (used for Mondavi or Opus One). After Crabb’s death, what remained of the To Kalon Vineyard Company was sold to ES Churchill at auction, taken over by his widow Mary Churchill when he died in 1903. Wines continued to be sold under the label until the arrival of Prohibition in 1920. The winery reopened briefly to sell wine in bulk in the 1930s, but the winery building burnt down in 1939. Four years later, Martin Stelling bought most of the property – 337 acres – and replanted. He sold 90 acres to Beaulieu Vineyard (the block that became known as BV4 – and was the plot used by André Tschelistcheff made Georges de Latour Reserve). In 1944, Stelling bought an additional 1,700 acres – the McGill Ranch, which included the parcels owned by Doak (both Crabb’s 1891 parcel and the 500 acres area south of Oakville Grade Road). He named the entire property Tokalon Vineyards, and in 1945 planted Sauvignon Blanc in I Block – the legendary parcel that is today used for Mondavi’s prized, old-vine To Kalon Fumé Blanc.  Tragedy struck again, however, with Stelling killed in a car crash in 1950. The property was once more divided, sold off in pieces by his widow.   
Rosa Mondavi, along with her sons Robert and Peter, purchased 132 hectares in 1962 for the family winery, Charles Krug. After Robert struck out on his own, he bought 12 acres for himself in 1966 (that remained in the Stelling family) – in the northeast corner of the 1968 Crabb parcel, where the Mondavi winery and visitor centre remains today. He bought a further 230 acres in 1968, and then took the Charles Krug section from the rest of his family in 1978. The first time the To Kalon name appeared on a Mondavi label – and the first time since the demise of the To Kalon Vineyard Company – was on the 1986 Fumé Blanc Reserve. The I Block – the Sauvignon Blanc vines planted by Stelling in 1945 – were singled out for the first time in 1995, for the vines’ 50th anniversary. The first red – Mondavi’s To Kalon Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon – appeared with the 1997 vintage. The To Kalon Vineyard’s terroir As already mentioned, To Kalon is largely an alluvial fan that stretches down from the Mayacamas to Highway 29. It is, however, a large piece of land (the exact area depending on where you draw its borders – see below for more on the controversy around this) – and as such the terroir varies considerably. The soils are richer downslope, closer to the Highway; poorer and better-drained higher up (where many – including Hobbs and Kenward – prefer to be). The gravel composition varies with the subtle slope differences and underground water.  “It’s like any cut of meat – there are better parts than others,” Hobbs says. With over 300 original acres (at least), this is a substantial vineyard (for comparison, Clos Vougeot is 125 acres). “It’s great if you have the name To Kalon, but could be pretty average stuff.” The Beckstoffer section is numbered and lettered: A to F, from road to mountain, with A1 south of A2. For Hobbs, he likes the blocks closer to the mountains, and those that aren’t shaded by the huge walnut trees that line Walnut Drive (to the south). Hobbs noted how much warmer Oakville is than Yountville – something he used to notice when driving in the evening home from Oakville to Yountville. The mountains block the sea breezes, meaning that the cooling effect happens, but more slowly. This is partly what makes it such a special place. Tor Kenward similarly prefers some of the middle blocks in B and C, where there are some of the vineyard’s oldest vines, but with lower vigour, as well as the leaner soils closest to the mountains. As for the MacDonald or Horton block: “You could argue it’s every bit as good as Andy’s piece,” Kenward says. It, along with the Detert block, was planted in the 1940s – and in fact those two blocks are now home to some of the valley’s oldest vines. Even closer to the mountains, the gravel content is even higher, and the fruit is picked up to a month earlier than elsewhere in To Kalon. Although until now most of that fruit has been sold to Constellation, there will be opportunity for others to work with it as that contract comes to an end.   
The Beckstoffer plots of To Kalon Andy Beckstoffer bought Beaulieu Vineyard’s block, BV4, in 1993. He’d just lost a prized site – Liparita, on Howell Mountain – when the 89 acres of BV4 came up. He’d worked the site for years and leapt at the opportunity to buy it. “It’s a mystery to me why they sold it,” Paul Hobbs told me, although word on the grapevine was that they needed to liquidate funds – indeed, it was around the same time that Mondavi went public for similar reasons. Phylloxera was once more raging through the region thanks to the widely used, non-resistant AXR rootstock.  The BV4 block was in bad shape when Beckstoffer took it over and he had to replant the entire site. Paul Hobbs was one of the first to use fruit from Beckstoffer’s plots, starting to work with him from 1995/96. “Andy didn’t really realise he had a Grand Cru property,” Hobbs says. Hobbs was given free rein to pick his plots, opting for four or five plots on the western side, furthest from Highway 29. The vineyard produced its first fruit in 1997; 1998 was a difficult year; but in 1999 Hobbs was able to produce his first To Kalon bottling (although it couldn’t say so on the label). “I was loathe to tell people how young it was – but the quality was so good,” Hobbs says, still starry eyed thinking about it. “It was only four years old, but producing stunning wines.” Most fruit is sold on its weight, by the ton, but Andy Beckstoffer created a different model – one that is intricately tied to the vineyard’s name and reputation – and arguably has increased its reputation. Producers who use his fruit pay him 175 times the bottle price per ton, with a ceiling at $50,000/ton; tying the value of the fruit to the value of the final wine. “For producers like me in those days, when I didn’t have the land or ability to buy land, Andy was a saviour of sorts,” Hobbs tells me. “Because I had access to one of the top vineyards in all of Napa. I had to pay – but at least I had access.”
  The To Kalon controversy: how big is it? And is it a brand or a place? Mondavi trademarked the name “To Kalon” in 1988, and “To Kalon Vineyard” in 1994. This gave them the right to use the name on any wine from anywhere – even beyond California – and meant that no one else could use the name, even if they had plots in what was considered the original To Kalon vineyard. The first Beckstoffer bottlings only mentioned the name on the back label; but in 2000, Schrader decided to put it on the front label. The now famous lawsuit commenced. “They shouldn’t have been able to trademark it,” Hobbs tells me. “Anyone from the original To Kalon estate should have the right to the trademark as well.” In 2002, Mondavi sued Schrader for using the name on their Beckstoffer bottling. Countersuing ensued, from both Schrader and Beckstoffer (the latter arguing that Mondavi was misleading clients by using the name for wines made with fruit from beyond the vineyard’s original borders). A settlement – the details of which remain a mystery – was made in 2003, but wines made from the Beckstoffer section can now bear the name “Beckstoffer To Kalon”.  Constellation bought Mondavi in 2004, and then Schrader in 2017. Reportedly attempts were made to trademark “To Kalon Wine Company”, “To Kalon Vineyard Company” and “Rooted in To Kalon” – something, unsurprisingly, that Beckstoffer objected to. The legal battle continues today, with a fight over the naming of To Kalon Creek, and The Vineyard House – owned by Jeremy Nickel, which sits on the 1889 hillside section – arguing for the use of the name as well.  The borders of the vineyard are a constant source of debate – and given the history above, you can see why.  Andy Beckstoffer considers the original To Kalon to be only the parcels bought by Crabb in 1868 and 1881. The 1889 parcel was never planted by Crabb, so most aren’t inclined to include it as “original To Kalon”. The Detert and MacDonald plots, however, aren’t acknowledged by Beckstoffer, but were planted – and, albeit more briefly than other plots, owned by Crabb. Then there’s the “Stelling extension”, the southern section added after Crabb’s death under Martin Stelling, that Mondavi considers part of the original vineyard, but some others do not. Given the sums fruit – and wine – bearing the To Kalon name command, it’s unsurprising that its usage is so disputed.  
To Kalon: what does the wine taste like?  So what makes the wine so special? Why do winemakers fight for the fruit, and consumers for the bottles they produce? Despite the sheer variety of the site, Tor Kenward is adamant that there’s a continuity, with a profile that that site gives Cabernet. He describes it as “wall-to-wall carpeting”, a plushness to the mid-palate, a softness, that means the Cabernet isn’t hard-edged. “There’s something about the ground there,” Andy Erickson agrees. For him, To Kalon has a distinct tannin texture – not as rugged as hillside sites, but richer, with a generosity in the wines. “They are dark, aromatic, but very broad and polished,” he says. “I think the vineyard brings forward many of the complexities of Cabernet Sauvignon, but delivers it in a very approachable and elegant package.” “It’s very identifiable,” Paul Hobbs says. “It’s a structural and textural thing mostly. It’s a freshness to this sort of tannin. It has grip, but it has this uplifting character.” He explains it like a skipping stone – you think you’ve got it, then another wave comes, the wine shifting on the palate. For him, one of the most distinctive things is that Cabernet sings alone here – much better than blended with other varietals. “It didn’t need the help of its brothers,” he says. “It’s a wine that’s at peace with itself… It doesn’t shock you, except in its beauty.”
 Who owns what today in To Kalon? Robert Mondavi: From the original 12 acres, Mondavi now owns 328 acres of To Kalon, including the Stelling extension. Has the rights to use the To Kalon name.  Opus One: The 35-acre Q Block was sold to the joint venture by Mondavi in 1981, with K block acquired in 2008. Although under Constellation’s ownership they could likely use the To Kalon name, Opus One doesn’t trade on this. (To Kalon Vineyard Company uses fruit from Constellation’s holdings, both Opus One and Mondavi plots.) UC Davis: a research block that was key in developing phylloxera-resistant rootstock
Beckstoffer: 89 acres, with fruit sold to a range of producers (currently 23), including Paul Hobbs, Tor Kenward and Schrader. Producers can use the name “Beckstoffer To Kalon” on their labels. MacDonald (sometimes referenced as Horton): Graeme and Alex MacDonald are the current generation, owning 21 acres of the 1891 parcel. When their great-grandparents bought the site in 1954 (along with the Detert plot – see below – from Caroline Stelling, Martin Stelling’s widow) it was planted with cherry trees. Advised by Robert Mondavi, the MacDonalds planted vines. From 1966, they sold grapes to Mondavi – holding some back for personal use from 2004, with the first MacDonald commercial release in 2010 (just 92 cases). Although historically 75% of production here has been sold to Mondavi, I’m led to believe that the contract is coming to a close and won’t be renewed. The MacDonalds can’t use the To Kalon name on their wines currently. Detert: Today owned by Tom Garrett, a cousin of the MacDonalds. This 25-acre plot was bought in 1954, along with the MacDonald parcel – divided between the buyers’ children giving the two plots today. There’s more Cabernet Franc in this section. Most of the fruit is sold to Mondavi (with the contract, as for MacDonald, coming to an end soon), and Detert can’t use the To Kalon name on their wines. The Vineyard House: Many dispute whether or not this is original To Kalon; it’s on the hillside area purchased (but not planted) by Crabb in 1891. This plot is owned by Jeremy Justin Nickel, who is the son of the late Far Niente proprietor Gil Nickel. It’s thought to have first been planted with vines in 1980. They can’t use the To Kalon name on their wines, but have taken court action over the issue.  Wineries with To Kalon bottlings  NB Not all of these will bear the To Kalon name on the label Mondavi Winery, Opus One, To Kalon Vineyard Company, MacDonald, Detert, Alpha Omega, Amici, Alejandro Bulgheroni Estate, AXR, Bacio Divino, B Cellars, Boich Family, Bounty Hunter, Cain Concept, Carter cellars, Ch Boswell, Jacquelynn, Kitchak, Cliff Lede, Morlet, Realm Cellars, Tor Kenward, Paul Hobbs, Schrader Cellars Read more Editorial 

The Napa Valley has many incredible vineyards, but To Kalon undoubtedly sits at the top of the tree. As the To Kalon Vineyard Company releases their latest vintage, Sophie Thorpe delves into the story of this iconic site – from its 19th century origins to the fight to use its hallowed name

Explore the history of To Kalon vineyard – and what makes it such an iconic site today. We spoke to Andy Erickson, Paul Hobbs and Tor Kenward to find out more

The tale of Napa’s iconic To Kalon vineyard

The tale of To Kalon

In an era where minimal intervention is so applauded, discussing the art, skill and work of a winemaker can be unfashionable. Producers can seem keen to gloss over or shy away from discussing the tricks of their trade. And tricks there undoubtedly are – as vintages like 2021 prove.  Jean-Antoine Chaptal was a man of many talents. Working in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, he was a scientist and statesman whose interests varied from sugar beets to gunpowder and merino sheep. For wine-lovers, he has been immortalised thanks to his 1801 paper, L’art de faire, de gouverner et de perfectionner les vins – in which he introduced what we now call “chaptalisation”. It was nothing short of revolutionary.   During fermentation, yeast converts sugar into alcohol and carbon dioxide. Chaptal realised that if you added additional sugar to raw grape juice, you could increase the final alcohol content of the wine. The sugar would, along with the natural sugars from the grapes, be fermented, producing a dry, but stronger wine, and – with alcohol a natural preservative – one that would keep better. Suddenly producers could give wines from cooler years a boost (with the alcohol adding much more than just ethanol). Some winemakers, of course, abused the technique – at one point in the early 20th century, the Languedoc reportedly produced twice as much wine as was feasible for the volume of grapes harvested.  Today the practice is strictly controlled by regulatory bodies, only permitted in cooler regions where it is deemed a useful tool, limited according to region and vintage conditions to protect quality. In marginal climates where ripeness isn’t guaranteed, chaptalisation has been the norm. Although you won’t find them in marketing pamphlets or Instagram feeds, bags of Tate & Lyle are widespread in the cellars of Champagne, Burgundy and England, in particular. It’s one reason why climate change has, for many such regions, been a blessing of sorts – the warmer conditions allowing them to more reliably bring in a crop of sufficiently ripe fruit.    Throughout the 19th century in Bordeaux, wines were often blended with those from warmer climes – the finest had a dose of Hermitage (something which Ch. Palmer pays tribute to today with its Historical XIXth Century Wine), while lesser wines had a dollop of something Spanish. Chaptalisation took over in the 20th century, and was widespread – considered part and parcel of making wine in the region.   Global warming and the technology that has revolutionised viticulture and winemaking in the region has changed that, but 2021, with its frost, mildew and generally cool conditions, saw many of northern Europe’s winemakers forced to chaptalise once more – or at least consider it.  Setting off to taste Bordeaux 2021 en primeur, I was braced for the polished spiel of the world’s grandest estates. But perhaps signalling a broader move towards transparency in the industry, what I found was a refreshing frankness. Not a single producer looked to mask the incredible challenges of the year – and the often unspoken reality of making wine in such conditions.  We asked about the potentially contentious topic at every property we visited, receiving only a small handful of slightly wary responses on the topic (“We did what we had to do,” one winemaker said, with a smile). The vast majority of producers felt it was a necessity in the year, although not everyone agreed.  At Ch. Cheval Blanc, Pierre-Olivier Clouet firmly stated, “We never touch the natural balance of the wine.” That said, they did chaptalise three plots in the end, but none of them made it into the Grand Vin. Delphine Kolasa of Margaux’s Marquis d’Alesme believes that you can almost always feel a warmness from the additional, unnatural alcohol – although she noted a few properties who had managed it so well you could barely tell.  At Les Carmes Haut-Brion, Guillaume Pouthier highlighted the balance needed with the year’s acidity levels. The relative lack of sunshine resulted in grapes high in malic acid, meaning that the malolactic fermentation (where hard, green-apple malic acid is converted into softer lactic acid) had a greater impact in the wines, reducing the overall acidity. With this in mind, he felt that chaptalisation could lead to wines feeling “flat” – but it wasn’t a necessity for him, given he managed to reach 13.5% natural alcohol thanks to the property’s warmer, suburban microclimate. These producers weren’t alone – Beychevelle, Léoville-Poyferré and Lafite-Rothschild all opted to work with what nature gave them.  But there were plenty of outstanding estates which felt it was an essential element to success in the year. At Le Pin, Jacques Thienpont remarked how they had to employ “forgotten methods”, noting that it was more than 20 years since he’d had cause to chaptalise in Pomerol. He used it on a couple of vats. Joséphine Duffau-Lagarrosse – the young vigneronne who has taken over her family’s estate – joked about having to learn how to do it, so alien is the process to a millennial winemaker. (“I called Burgundy,” she said, laughing mischievously.)  Similarly, Christian Moueix – another of the Right Bank’s old guard – noted how he used it almost every year in the 1970s, but hadn’t needed to for a long time. For him the key was not to overdo it, enough to add a maximum 1% alcohol. There was a clear consensus on this among proponents – adding half or one degree (of alcohol) was beneficial, but if you pushed things too far, you’d lose balance in the wines. That touch of additional alcohol added body, carried flavour and allowed for more extraction.  At Ch. Canon and Ch. Berliquet, they noted that they always pick on phenolic rather than sugar ripeness, but one of the quirks of 2021 was that the skins ripened before the sugar had accumulated to the expected level. They therefore picked and chaptalised to bring the wine up to 13.5%.  Omri Ram – who produced a particularly exquisite flight of 2021s at Ch. Lafleur – emphasised that he wasn’t anti-chaptalisation, but was anti it being popularised. He used it on a handful of parcels (the most humid plots) where he felt they would benefit from just “a little bit more” – with all the wines ending up between 13.4 and 13.6%. Ch. Margaux was notable for highlighting that, at least for them, chaptalisation wasn’t abnormal. They also used it on a couple of plots in 2017, 2019 and 2020.   There’s no doubt that chaptalisation can be done badly. But tasting through the 2021 vintage in Bordeaux, it’s also clear that it can be done well – used seamlessly to produce wines that are better for that spoonful of sugar. If you don’t trust us, check the critical acclaim for some of the wines mentioned above.  Intervention is key to wine – a vigneron’s craft goes beyond the field. The best wines come from carefully farmed vineyards, sites nurtured to produce expressive fruit, but it takes a talented winemaker to translate that into something you can drink. And in a year like 2021, no winemaker should be criticised for using every tool available to them.   Browse all Bordeaux wines or read more Editorial 

Chaptalisation – the addition of sugar to enrich wines – isn’t fashionable but it’s a practice that has long been common (and often essential). The 2021 vintage saw many Bordeaux winemakers turn to the technique; here we dig into exactly what it is – and why it shouldn’t be dismissed 

Chapitalisation became common practice in the cool Bordeaux 2021 vintage. We talk to some of the region's top growers about this controversial technique. 

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