Few wine regions have seen a transformation as significant as Tuscany has over the last 15 years. These days the region regularly produces some of the finest wines found anywhere on the planet, while retaining a distinct sense of place.  Tuscany is the only region in the world to have truly tamed Sangiovese, with nowhere else able to grow this fussy grape variety and produce wines of the same level. At the same time, Tuscany has managed to produce some of the world’s finest renditions of the better-travelled international varieties such as Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot; even Pinot Noir and Chardonnay are finding a foothold in this magical enclave of central Italy. Few have been as influential in this transformative journey than San Guisto a Rentennano’s Luca Martini di Cigala, who has managed to produce not one but two of the region’s most iconic wines – Percarlo (100% Sangiovese) and La Ricolma (100% Merlot). In his typically modest manner, however, he does not believe great wines are made by great winemakers – but by understanding where a vigneron must focus their attention in the vineyard. According to Martini di Cigala, winemaking can improve the quality of a wine by no more than 10%. “Great wine, however, is made with great fruit,” he says. So what is it about Tuscany that has resulted in the region’s recent renaissance? For Martini di Cigala, it has been understanding how the region’s unique soils and climate, if allowed, can produce wines where the character of the terroir prevales, rather than the varietal. “When it is the opposite and the varietal character is more evident than the character of the place, of the area, of the soil,” says Cigale, “to me it doesn’t make much sense.” It is the vineyard that must do the talking, not the grape variety, nor the winemaking. While the Tuscan wine renaissance began in the late 1970s and early ’80s, the meteoric rise of the region was far from linear. Among the new wave of pioneers, there was naivety too and, understandably, external influences started to impact how wine was being made. Back then, San Giusto A Rentennano didn’t have their own personal brand, and were selling wine to the big wineries like Antinori and Ruffino.  Following in the footsteps of the likes of Fontodi, Isole e Elena and Montevertini they decided to focus on improving the quality of their Sangiovese – which began, fundamentally, by reducing the yields in the vineyard. “Before that, we used to produce a good Chianti,” says Martini di Cigala, “a simple wine.” But, with these changes, “The stye completely changed and we began to focus on making wines for long ageing.” As the movement progressed, however, he began to sense a period of self-doubt looming. “Compared to today, where there is a big improvement in the culture of tasting wines and recognising the character of the different varieties,” he says, “people were used to drinking rounder, softer wines. And Sangiovese [made at lower yields] can be so aggressive, so hard with the tannins – especially when young. It was a problem.” At the time, many of the vignerons felt that in order to increase the wine’s ageing potential, the wines needed to be darker and more concentrated, while also exposing the wine to plenty of new oak and more oxygen – opting for smaller 225-litre barrels (barriques) rather than the region’s traditional larger casks. You could see the commercial attraction too, since this approach softened Sangiovese’s tannins. Emerging regions like Tuscany were all looking towards more established fine wine regions for inspiration. The use of new barriques was fashionable around the world but, most notably, part of the Bordeaux recipe of the time. Twenty years ago, Martini di Cigala believes, they wrongly followed these trends, producing intense, overripe, over-oaked wines. “It was a mistake because many wineries didn’t keep the character of the Sangiovese – either due to excessive use of wood, which does not integrate well with Sangiovese, or because it was blended with other varieties to build the wine’s intensity, while softening its aggressive nature.” For Martini di Cigala, even his Merlot plantings weren’t performing well – despite being a variety better suited to the current trends, with better resistance to new oak’s influence. The current recipe was not working for him – or for Tuscany. Early in its renaissance, the region began to stumble. Martini di Cigala’s success came when he realised that, despite sharing the same vineyards, his Merlot and Sangiovese had very little in common. To produce anything better than ordinary, he had to start treating the two varieties completely differently and let the vines do the talking. Sangiovese is a frustratingly fickle variety. It has the potential to produce wines as ethereal as the finest Pinot Noir and as rich and elegant as fine Bordeaux. Yet it has failed to make any real imprint outside Italy and, even today in Tuscany, it remains maddeningly inconsistent. “Compared to other varieties like Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon and Syrah,” he says, “these varieties can produce wine everywhere. With Sangiovese it is hard because it needs calcareous soil in order to produce the right balance of tannins. In any other kinds of soil, it either increases acidity too much or the opposite, making the wine very flat. To produce a wine with a precise character with a lot of tannin but at the same time integrated with the fruit, Sangiovese needs calcareous soil.” But, he stresses, it is not only the soil but the climate that is important too. “It is difficult to have great Sangiovese that is very, very light, low in alcohol and low in polyphenols [tannins]. The wine must be rich,” he says. The region must be hot. The elegance and the precision, however, come from another distinct attribute of the hillsides of Tuscany: cool night-time temperatures. This, Martini di Cigala believes, is vital for the elegance of the wines – and something that can be lost in warmer vintages. “Sangiovese is very delicate, if there is too much concentration, the level of tannins risk damaging the wine’s natural elegance and the balance,” says Cigala. For me it is a great wine when the wine doesn’t need to show muscle. It is not important to be extremely concentrated or to have a lot of colour for a great vintage. It is more about the balance of the different factors.” He notes that some of the most celebrated vintages aren’t necessarily the longest-lived, highlighting that the cooler 2013 and 2014 vintages will outlive the much applauded, warmer 2015s – although he insists 2016 has proved to be spectacular. Percarlo evolved as Martini di Cigala gradually understood Sangiovese’s sensitivities. Up until 2008, Percarlo was aged 100% in barriques. First produced in 1983, the amount of new wood has been reduced over the years. Today he doesn’t use any barriques at all for Percarlo, or for any of his other Sangiovese wines (Chianti Classico and Riserva). He believes Sangiovese is too sensitive to oxygen to age in smaller barriques. Today it is matured 50/50 in large 5,000-litre and 3,000-litre barrels. Martini di Cigala didn’t start producing Merlot until 1993, but for the first 10 years, he managed the vines similarly to his Sangiovese – with mixed results. “Sometimes the vintage would be very Tuscan in style and then the opposite in other vintages – the aromas were more like Merlot from north Italy with more pepper on the nose. I was never convinced with the results,” he says. The Merlot in Chianti Classico is also very different to the Merlot grown on the Tuscan coast of Bolgheri. The bigger diurnal temperature shifts in the Tuscan hills produce Merlot with more acidity. The wines are, in Martini di Cigala’s words, “more vertical”. The real success of both Percarlo and La Ricolma, Martini di Cigala believes, lies in the bespoke adaptations he started to make in the vineyard for each variety. Sangiovese really benefits from an early green harvest in July – reducing the natural yield. Merlot, on the other hand, proves to be a disaster if you do the same thing and limit your yields so early in the growing season – causing a spike in sugar production at the expense of tannin development.  Martini di Cigala also painstakingly picks the Sangiovese destined for his Percarlo bunch by bunch, assessing each vine individually. Picking Merlot bunch by bunch, in contrast, makes no sense – “it is far too irregular”. While Sangiovese yields can be manipulated throughout véraison to its benefit, Merlot needs to be left alone. “The key for Merlot”, he says, “is to try to slow down its ripening. If the variety doesn’t have a long growing cycle, the wine remains short.” Over the years Martini di Cigala has moved his Merlot vines to the coolest parts of his vineyards. He admits his original La Ricolma Merlot plot is his worst, its west-facing exposition making it too warm. He much prefers his plots closer to the river where temperatures are lower. But the key viticultural work for both his Merlot and Sangiovese starts earlier – he is keen to point out that there is no recipe each year, the cultivation has to be very precise depending on the vines’ needs. “You have to be a good interpreter of the season. Often you don’t notice the stress in the vineyard until July, by which time it is too late. You have to follow the trends of the weather earlier – this is the most difficult point of our job and has become especially true in the last few hotter years.” Each viticultural step has to follow the trend of the season. That, for him, is the key. Over nearly 40 years Martini di Cigala has continued to make tweaks in the vineyards, further improving the wines. Up until 2004 he used to select the Percarlo grapes only from certain parts of the vineyard, but now the fruit is picked bunch by bunch – another fundamental reason, he believes, the wines’ quality has escalated. Martini di Cigala has proven that wines made from Sangiovese and Merlot can be both bold and beautiful, aligning the Tuscan hills’ unique climate with precision viticulture. The hot summers and cool night-time temperatures matched with the calcareous soils are the perfect combination for Sangiovese and are testament to Merlot’s adaptability. After a period of self-doubt and mixed results for the region, the Tuscan renaissance today has well and truly found its foothold and is on an extraordinary run. And it is Percarlo and La Ricolma leading the pack. “If you asked me to name 15 great wineries in Chianti Classico 20 years ago, I would be in trouble,” says Martini di Cigala. “Today I could arrive at 50 or 60.” What has changed most today, according to the winemaker, is a paradigm shift in focus from winery to vineyard. While he is a little disappointed more of them haven’t turned to organic farming (of which he is a longstanding proponent), he believes the change has been very positive. A noble name, a castle, or a famous winemaker today no longer makes the headlines in Tuscany. It is precision viticulture that has taken these distinct wines from the Tuscan hills to the top of many collectors’ wish lists. Keep an eye out for the latest releases from San Giusto a Rentennano, coming soon. Browse all current listings of San Giusto a Rentennano or read more Editorial

Luca Martini di Cigala, the man behind Percarlo and La Ricolma, is one of Tuscany’s viticultural pioneers. We spoke to the San Giusto a Rentennano winemaker about his role in the region’s renaissance and how he turned to the vineyard to reveal his wines’ true potential

Exploring how San Giusto a Rentennano’s Luca Martini di Cigala discovered Tuscany’s true wine potential with his iconic Percarlo and La Ricolma wines.


San Giusto a Rentennano's iconic Tuscan reds

Two titans of Tuscany: Percarlo and La Ricolma

Steven Spurrier might be approaching 80, but his wit, quill and tongue are as sharp as ever. While – as is now the norm – we spoke on the phone, there is no doubt in my mind that the voice at the end of the line was immaculately dressed – with due attention paid to every detail. Spurrier has a critical eye, both precise and unfailingly honest in his assessment of whatever crosses his path. “People do go on about the Judgement of Paris,” he laments. “It’s stuck to my back. I can’t do anything about it.” Instantly, I feel grateful for the phoneline, as I blush, knowing that I will join the cohorts of pesky interviewers who can’t not ask about the 1976 tasting that flung both Spurrier and Californian wine into the limelight. The blind tasting – pitching the best Bordeaux and Burgundy against California’s finest – paved the way for the New World, challenging the fine wine status quo, and creating a template for almost every other region to follow as they looked to prove their worth.  It is this, Spurrier feels, that was the real mark left on the wine trade – opening people’s eyes to the power of blind tasting. “I just happened to put it on,” he says modestly of the event. Certainly, there is an element of coincidence that has ensured the tasting’s place in the history books: if journalist George Taber hadn’t attended – writing up the event for Time magazine with its now iconic Judgement of Paris title – and Spurrier’s wife Arabella hadn’t thought to take a few pictures, the occasion might have been remembered only by the few. At the time Spurrier was running a wine shop and school (L’Académie du Vin) in Paris, being
one of few Englishmen bold enough to try and teach the French about wine. He’d started his career just a few years earlier at Christopher’s – then London’s oldest wine merchant. Returning to the UK in 1988, he made the switch to writing and consulting on wine. The rest, as they say, is history: today he is one of the most famous names in the world of wine. That might be achievement enough for most people, but Spurrier isn’t most people – and he’s certainly not resting on his laurels.  In 2009 he and his wife Arabella planted their first vines on their Dorset property. Steven had long thought the chalky soils and the natural amphitheatre could make for a good vineyard, but it took a while for him to take the plunge. More than anyone, he knows how true the old adage is that the wine trade is the best way to make a small fortune – if, of course, you start out with a large one. Nevertheless he’d been fascinated by England’s sparkling potential – ever since he was served a glass of Nyetimber Blanc de Blancs blind in the mid-1990s. Soon after the first vines took root at Bride Valley, he was at a black tie dinner at Château Lafite-Rothschild, talking to Baron Eric de Rothschild, he mentioned that he had planted a vineyard. Baron Eric put an arm round him and said, “Welcome to the club.” At the time he felt he was being congratulated; now he knows it was an element of commiseration. He’s 100% over budget on the project but is confident things will turn out ok. And, on the upside he hasn’t had cause to buy a bottle of Champagne for five years. The wines are made by Ian Edwards (of nearby Furleigh Estate), with Spurrier involved at both blending and dosage. At
first the project was focused on sparkling only, but now they’re making still wines too – something about which he is very excited, particularly in the wake of the superb, warm 2018 vintage. A lot has changed since he joined the wine trade in the 1970s. Although he’s not necessarily enthused about everything (“I think natural wine gets away with a lot”), Spurrier thinks we’re in “a golden age for the wine drinker”, with a kaleidoscopic offering for today’s consumers. I ask him what of everything he’s tasted has stood out recently: like most people, he’s been spending a lot of time on Zoom – and one bottle from a recent online tasting stood out, 2017 Volnay Premier Cru Santenots from Faiveley, a close rival for the best Volnay he’s ever had (from Comtes Lafon).  But while wine might have filled his days, art seems to permeate every aspect of his life. It
is, he says, an “addictive passion”, ever since he bought his first Stubbs etching at Sotheby’s 63 years ago. “I’ve got about 3,000 bottles of wine in the cellar, and I’ve got a list of what’s there. I think about them in vague terms, what one might drink tonight and so on,” he tells me, “but they don’t play a part in my life.” His home is full of fine art – paintings, sculpture and sketches. Unlike wine, he feels that “art speaks to you,” he says. I ask whether he ever thinks about the path not taken – working in art, rather than wine. The answer – despite the fact that things have, at times, gone “exceedingly badly” – is, in short, no. “Life in the wine trade was so captivating, so encompassing, with the ups and the downs,” he says with a touch of nostalgia. “Although I would have lost less money in the art business,” he knowingly chuckles. Most importantly, he notes, “I’ve never been bored in the wine trade.”  This feature was originally published before Steven Spurrier's passing in March 2021 Read more Editorial  

Ahead of the publication of his memoirs in 2020, the wine merchant turned writer Steven Spurrier spoke to Sophie Thorpe about a life dedicated to wine and why he couldn't stop buying art 

Wine merchant turned writer Steven Spurrier on a life dedicated to wine and why he couldn't stop buying art 

Steven Spurrier's life in wine

Steven Spurrier: a life in wine

The state of Indiana is probably best known as the home of the 200-lap motor race, the Indy 500, but it is little known that it is home to America’s first commercial winemakers: a group of French-speaking Swiss settlers, who made their way from the Vaud to the not-yet-a-state of
Indiana in the late 18th century.  Unfortunately, the past two centuries has been unkind to the wine ambitions of the early settlers despite being home to vast swathes of vine-loving limestone; instead, the Hoosier state is more interested in corn and soybeans than grapes and it was in this rural farming environment that a young Jeb Dunnuck grew up, far from the burgeoning winelands of the western seaboard.  Raised in a non-wine drinking family, his late start in wine was clearly no handicap: in 2013, the world’s most important wine critic hired him. “I knew I’d found a younger version of myself,” wrote Robert Parker at the time. Parker had been a lawyer that turned his hand to writing wine reviews in the late 1970s. Dunnuck was a baby when The Wine Advocate was first published but in a similar vein to Parker, he had another career before wine paid the mortgage.  An aerospace engineer by training, he caught the wine bug while working for the listed security and aerospace firm Lockheed Martin in upstate New York. He was – and remains – an outdoorsy type and at weekends he would drive three hours to go rock climbing; en-route he stumbled across a wine store, which led to the start of another hobby and a new career. “I would always stop at this tiny, eclectic wine shop that had a great selection of Bordeaux. I think that was where I probably bought my first bottle of wine, “he says. “My wife Traci was a teacher, and we didn’t make much money at the time, but I still remember hiding $20 to $30 a week so I could buy a different bottle every Friday. Some of the first wines I purchased in any quantity were 1990 and 1996 Bordeaux.” Now firmly ensconced in Boulder, which is to mountain bikers what Bordeaux is to wine lovers, Dunnuck recounts how he went from being an aerospace engineer saving up to buy a single bottle of wine at the weekend to respected wine critic. “In 2008, I created the TheRhoneReport website and started writing professionally about wine. I was lucky that I knew web programming, so I designed an online database and built the original site over a weekend. I still use the same database today,” he says. “I would work during the day at Ball Aerospace, then write for The Rhone Report from about 8pm to 2am every night. I did that for five years.” His work ethic and output clearly impressed: in 2013 an email appeared in his inbox from Robert Parker, asking Dunnuck to work for him and you don’t say no to Parker.  
The Parker Years The remit at The Wine Advocate included California, Washington and southern France, including the Rhône, and his lively tasting notes made a refreshing change. “It’s funny you say that, as I truly can’t stand flowery prose,” says Dunnuck.  “I approach the job with an engineering viewpoint as opposed to that of a writer; I’m here to solve problems and the purpose of JebDunnuck.com is to help subscribers find wines they like. You do that by tasting as broadly as possible, writing straightforward vintage reports, and doing your best to
describe and give candid opinions on the quality of the wines. That is the goal”.  But in 2017, just four years later, Dunnuck handed in his notice and went solo. “I loved working at The Wine Advocate, particularly in the early years, when Parker was heavily involved. However, I disagreed with the direction of the company and management, and thought it wasn’t a good fit for me as time went on,” he explains. Within months of
handing in his resignation, JebDunnuck.com was launched.  He retains the principles of an Advocate reviewer, basing his business on a subscription model and paying his way rather
than relying on wine associations or producer groups to fund his trips. 
Dunnuck Drinks 
While he might be known for his love of all things Rhône-related, he has now included Bordeaux into his roster of regions and publishes major reports, which include reviews of up to 1000 wines at a time, as well as smaller articles on other regions and individual producers.  But what we all want to know is what’s in his personal cellar? “I’m a Francophile so my cellar is mostly Rhône and Bordeaux,” he says, revealing he’s just bought a case each of the 2017 Janasse Châteauneuf-du-Pape Cuvée Vieilles Vignes, 2016 Château Sansonnet from Saint-Émilion, and the 2017 Domaine du Pegau Châteauneuf-du-Pape Cuvée Réservée, “but I drink plenty of wines from California’s Central Coast, Sonoma, Napa Valley, Washington, Italy and Spain.” What Rhône vintages should FINE+RARE’s clients be opening? In the Syrah-dominant 
northern Rhône, the wines of the noughties are all ready to be opened. “For lovers of young wines or those with little patience, 2014 is an early drinking, moderately concentrated vintage that has lots of upfront charm. I think one of the greatest vintages ever for the Northern Rhône, the 2015s are massive and structured wines that will reward bottle age. However, Crozes-Hermitage, some Saint-Joseph, and some Cornas are approachable today. Meanwhile, the 2016s are classic, elegant wines that will have early appeal as well yet also age
gracefully.” Vintage-wise, it’s not such a different story in the southern Rhône, home to the appellations of Châteauneuf-du-Pape, Gigondas and more. If the label states 2009 or earlier, the drinking window has opened up and you should start enjoying; yes, you can open your 2010s but
there’s no rush. “Looking at younger vintages, the 2015s and 2016s should probably be held for a few more years, although there are plenty of 2016s drinking nicely, albeit in a youthful sense. 2016 is a great, great vintage for the southern Rhône, and the top wines are going to reward bottle age.” Dunnuck’s vintage is 1975. He’s clearly entered his working window in the past 10 years but will continue to hold and potentially improve for another 20 to 30 years. Based on the history of his home state’s wine scene, it’s clear he is already one of Indiana’s finest wine
exports.  Non-trade subscribers, can sign up to JebDunnuck.com for US$99 annually, which includes all reports, articles and reviews and Wine-Searcher listings. Cellar Tracker users can link their
cellared wines to Dunnuck’s reviews. In 2019, he reviewed 10,000 wines. 
Bordeaux 2019 En Primeur As the 2019s from Bordeaux begin to release, Dunnuck gives his picks for lesser known producers in the region. Looking in Bordeaux on the Right Bank and stepping outside the well-known names, some gems would be Château Badette, Château Sansonnet, Tour Saint-Christophe, Quinault l’Enclos, Château Barde-Haut, Château Ripeau, La Dominique, Clos Saint Julien, and Clos de Sarpe, among others. I absolutely love Jeremy Chasseuil’s Pomerol from Château Feytit-Clinet, and Château Laroque, under David Suire, has taken off as well.  On the Left Bank, some estates on the uptick would be Chateau Pédesclaux, Château Gloria, and Château Saint-Pierre in Saint Julien. I think Château Rauzan-Ségla is making their best wines ever while Château Labégorce and Marquis d’Alesme Becker, both under the helm of
Marjolaine de Coninck, are making brilliant wines today. Some other hidden gems would by Château Charmail, Clos Manou, Château Le Coteau in the Arsac region of Margaux, and Château Marojallia, just to name a few. While the US consumer doesn’t like second wines, given the incredible selection being made by the top estates, I’d wager the second wines today rival the grands vins of the past. The ship might have sailed already, but people should jump on the wines of Les Carmes Haut-Brion. Guillaume Pouthier is doing an incredible job there and is making world-class wines. I also think the dry whites from Olivier Bernard’s Clos des Lunes, which are based on Sémillon from old vines in Sauternes, don’t get the recognition they deserve.  Discover all Bordeaux listings or read more Editorial

Aerospace engineer turned wine critic Jeb Dunnuck talks to FINE+RARE about his trajectory from discovering wine to becoming one of the world’s leading voices on the Rhône, California and Bordeaux. 

Wine critic Jeb Dunnuck on his trajectory to becoming one of the world’s leading voices on the Rhône, California and Bordeaux. 

Jeb Dunnuck on finding his space

Jeb Dunnuck: Finding his space

It was a small yellow aphid that disregarded national borders, wiping out the livelihood of every grape grower in its way and there was no known cure nor effective prevention in its first devastating years. Even when a cure was discovered, growers were reluctant – and often financially unable – to use it.  As a result, phylloxera vastatrix  – vastratix meaning ravager – continued to nibble on the roots of vines across western Europe, sucking the lifeblood from the vines and leaving wounds for any passing infection. By 1900, 2.5 million hectares of France's vineyard had been uprooted, causing production to slump, encouraging dodgy dealers to make fake wine, and leading to mass protests.  The story of phylloxera in Europe started as a well-intentioned gift. In 1862, an American grape grower sent some cuttings of native vines to his friend in the Rhône Valley who planted them, unaware of the damage it would inflict on his compatriots. Within a year, local growers were lamenting their sick vines. Phylloxera had wanderlust, sparing no French region; nor did it respect the country's finest terroirs or illustrious châteaux.  However, a concerted national response to the potential ruin of the country's national beverage was not forthcoming. The French government was too busy putting on International Exhibitions in Paris (1867), opening the Suez Canal (1869) and waging war on Prussia (1870-71). In 1870, the government acknowledged there might be an issue, offering a 20,000 Franc reward for a cure. Remedies were offered including burying living toads in the vineyard, adding volcanic ash from Pompeii to the soil or inviting a marching band to play to the vines. Unsurprisingly, the vines continued to die. In 1880, a solution was finally accepted: graft European varieties to the roots of American vines. However, grafting noble French varieties - vitis vinifera - to the roots of these lowly American varieties seemed like sacrilege to many growers. It was thought they would affect the nobility of their precious wines. There was also the issue of cost: uprooting your vineyard, replanting and then having to wait between three and five years for a crop did not feed a family and the concept of state aid was still a long way off.  As a result, many tried to limp on for as long as possible, injecting carbon bisulphide, an expensive and toxic solvent used to vulcanise rubber, into the soil to stave off the inevitable.  The producers in the south of France were the first to be hit in the 1860s and they replanted with high-yielding hybrids. By the turn of the century, the Languedoc was producing more wine than ever before. However, the region's unscrupulous merchants made up for the initial shortfall at peak phylloxera by bulking out grape juice with sugar and water while others made wines from raisins. These practices continued despite the replanted vineyards returning to full production, causing a huge oversupply and depressing prices.  Urged on by a growing labour movement, hundreds of thousands of people took to the streets in 1907 to call for change. The Champagne Riots of 1911 The Champenois followed suit, rioting in the streets in 1911 and the root of their troubles also lay with phylloxera.  In 1892, the Marne was invaded by its first phylloxera aphid and, by 1910, 40% of the region had been affected. But this was no time for production to fall: Champagne sales were booming and to make up for the shortfall, dodgy merchants (and some of the seemingly reputable houses) brought in wines from the Loire and the south of France by the train-load. The wines were made sparkling in their cellars and the bottles emerged, as if by magic, as Champagne. Supply and demand economics suggested that the growers should have been earning more for their fruit as phylloxera affected supply and sales boomed, but fake Champagne kept prices low. Having borne the cost of replanting their vineyards, this was not how growers imagined they would be rewarded and protests ensued.  While most vineyards in Champagne and beyond are now planted on American rootstocks, there are some vines and vineyard owners that play wine roulette and grow vitis vinifera on their own roots. For example, three plots belonging to Bollinger were planted in 1960 in the traditional pre-phylloxera way. One has succumbed to the vine louse but the remaining two parcels are the source of Vieilles Vignes Françaises, a rare Pinot Noir-based Champagne that provides a taste of a bygone era.  We asked Denis Bunner, Bollinger’s Deputy Cellar Master, about the Aÿ-based Champagne House's rarest wine, Vieilles Vignes Françaises, which is produced on its own roots.  Why did Bollinger begin producing Vieilles Vignes Françaises in 1969?  An English journalist Cyril Ray proposed the initiative to Madame Bollinger following a visit in 1967 and this inspired Madame Bollinger to create a wine from the precious vines to commemorate her 70th birthday, which saw the first bottle produced in 1969. The wine was launched in 1974. Are the vines pre-phylloxera? If so, they must be more than a century old. No, the current plots in Aÿ were planted in the 1960s but it is impossible to give an age to the vines due to the perpetual renewal and the way the root system grow [the system is called provignage, which is like vine fostering when there is an empty space to fill. Take a cane from one vine, train it down into the soil and partially bury it with the end sticking out until it forms a separate vine. This is also done in the Nacional vineyard at Quinta do Noval]. There were three plots that weren't grafted but there are now only two. What happened? third plot succumb to phylloxera?  The third plot in Croix Rouge de Bouzy was attacked by phylloxera at the end of the 1990s – the vineyard didn't have protective walls around it. The last vintage was 2004 as we had to uproot it when it fell prey to the infestation. How many acres do the two remaining plots cover?  The Clos Saint-Jacques (Aÿ) covers just over half an acre while the Clos des Chaudes-Terres, which lies within the boundaries of Bollinger’s own lands, covers a little over a third of an acre. In total, they represent 0.36 hectares. Is there anything special about the soil of these two plots that means it resists phylloxera?  The soil is not remarkably different from that in the rest of Aÿ and as per the rest of Champagne it features chalk. Is this special cuvee made every year?  No. Only in declared vintages. What is the average production of Vieilles Vignes Françaises?  This varies by vintage, but falls within the range of 2,000 to 3,000 bottles. A total of 2,420 numbered bottles of the 2009 Vieilles Vignes Françaises vintage were produced. Read more Editorial

Following the release of Bollinger’s latest vintage of Vieilles Vignes Françaises, we talk to Denis Bunner, Bollinger’s Deputy Cellar Master about the Aÿ-based Champagne house's rarest wine, as well as delving into the archives to explore the history of the fatal vine louse.

Phylloxera and Bollinger’s Vieilles Vignes Françaises on the wine grown from vines planted on its own roots and thus vulnerable to attack by the louse.

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