“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

Think of Bordeaux, and you probably don’t think of skateboarding and denim shirts. Damien Barton-Sartorius, however – Director of Château Langoa and Léoville Barton – manages somehow to combine millennial cool with an effortless suaveness that feels distinctly Bordelais. “When you’re one of these old families, the rest of Bordeaux looks at you in a different way,” he tells me. There have been Bartons in Bordeaux since the 18th century. One of the region’s “wine geese”, Irishman Thomas Barton arrived in 1722, and Hugh Barton bought Château Langoa in 1821, acquiring part of the Léoville estate in 1826. Since then, the empire has grown: alongside their Saint-Julien Classed Growth properties, there’s a Moulis estate (Mauvesin Barton) and a négoce operation. As if that wasn’t enough, Barton-Sartorius has two personal side-projects too: Initio and 225, the latter of which is his latest venture – a sustainability-led project, shipping wine in bulk and bottling in the destination market. He’s restless and enthusiastic, having taken over directing the Classed Growth estates (while his sister, Mélanie is in charge of Mauvesin) from his mother and Saint-Julien matriarch, Lillian Barton, in the last couple of years. This year sees the 200th anniversary of Langoa’s purchase – and when I ask him what has changed in that time, the answer is easy: “Not so much,” he shrugs. It’s the mark of a business like this, handed from generation to generation, that shifts are seamless and gradual, no one looking to make a mark – but preserve a unique heritage. Both Langoa and Léoville are classical Saint-Julien – a style often described as sitting between pinpoint Pauillac and sensual Margaux. For Barton-Sartorius, it’s “a bit like Vosne-Romanée in Burgundy, we have everything”. The Langoa estate is defined by its proximity to the river, the estuary’s constant movement helping to rid the vineyards of humidity and moderating the temperature – shielding it from extreme weather, rarely suffering from frosts (even in vintages like 2017) and allowing them to produce balanced wines in otherwise very warm vintages such as 2003, 2009 and 2018. It is, however, the soils that make Barton-Sartorius swoon. “The gravels are quite extraordinary,” he says, animated in his excitement. The gravels reach between three and six metres below the surface, giving the perfect level of drainage – but not too much, with a layer of clay beneath to hold essential water reserves. “The perfect balance,” Barton-Sartorius sighs. While it was once rare to hear the Bordelais talking about their terroir, there’s a definite shift underway. “For a long time Bordeaux was all about the brand – now they want to know what is behind the bottle,” he says. The shift, he feels, however, is not that the Bordelais are suddenly discovering their soils – but they’re talking about it. The region’s more monied estates have, however, been artful, managing to guarantee their place at the head of the fine wine table for over 150 years – and to do so, they’ve had to create stories. “There’s too much show – look at our new winery, our limited bottle....” Barton-Sartorius explains. Admittedly, he’s busily building a new cellar himself – although it is unlikely to be unveiled grandly with a row of new gleaming stainless steel tanks and the latest contraptions. Construction of the winery is already underway at Langoa (where both the Léoville and Langoa wines are made), set to be completed in 2022, the most recent update since his grandfather built it. Because of the sheer expense involved, they’ve only made tweaks over the years, but are now in a position to have been able to properly rethink it. The aim is for it to be more sustainable and functional, simplifying the process. Everything will be gravity operated, and the barrels will be stored two floors below ground so that less energy is required to keep them cool. Such concepts might seem standard elsewhere, however with Bordeaux’s high water table (remember that the Médoc was a swamp until the Dutch drained it in the 17th century), it’s difficult to build down rather than up. Winemaking at both Langoa and Léoville remains reassuringly traditional – “not by choice, but because it’s still the best”. There are exceptions, though, and where something is better done by machine, or it avoids a potential risk to workers’ health, they’ll do it – but there’s no compromising on quality to save a few cents. As just one example, they still rack everything by hand using a candle, because they feel it is a softer way to separate the wine from the lees, without exposing the wine to too much oxygen. “Details like this are very important,” Barton-Sartorius says. “But the wine is made in the vineyard.” He, like most vignerons, knows that it’s the quality of the fruit that matters most. “I like to think we’re good – but terroir is making 90% of the job,” he quips. The winery is, in his view, “more about a religion. You have to trust in something. You believe it or not.” It might be easy to be lulled into the sense that everything here is done by rote – simply following the recipe of their forebears, but that’s far from the case. “There’s a reason we do things the way we do – but we still like to challenge what we do,” Barton-Sartorius tells me, taking me through a ream of current and recent experiments, from pumps versus gravity (gravity won) to their decades’ worth of tests with organic vineyard sprays – looking not just at how they impact the cleanliness of fruit at harvest, but the wine’s final flavour. I ask him how he feels about Bordeaux’s status and relevancy today. “It feels like nobody knows it or people forgot about it,” he says. The region – in his view – remains one of the most exciting. He describes how the generation above are tired of people comparing the wines to how cheap they used to be – however is determined that they still offer great value. You can’t buy “Château Margaux as a lunch wine”, but Langoa Barton costs £30 – and “Napa is double, triple the price for the same quality”. And no one is able to hide their excitement when he gets an old bottle of Léoville Barton out the cellar. “We are lucky to have some of the best soils in the world – like Chambertin Grand Cru, the quality is the same – except instead of having two hectares, we have 80 hectares. We are lucky to produce 100,000 bottles of it.” That might make the wines, as he says, “a little less posh and fancy” – but it also means there’s more to go around. Is it a burden – a 200-year history and everything that comes with it? He instantly shakes his head, “It’s an honour – but a big pressure at the same time. I don’t want to be the generation that f***s up everything.” As Barton-Sartorius rushes off to meet the curfew in place under current Covid restrictions, it’s hard to reconcile his undeniable stature in Bordelais society with the down-to-earth character filling my screen. It’s that very lack of pomp and circumstance, an understated modesty, that will likely guarantee that Langoa Barton survives another 200 years. Browse wines from Langoa Barton and Léoville Barton

As Château Langoa Barton marks its 200th anniversary, Sophie Thorpe caught up with Damien Barton-Sartorius – the 10th generation of the Barton family to run the estate – about tradition, terroir and why Bordeaux remains the most exciting wine region in the world 

Talking tradition, terroir and why Bordeaux remains the most exciting wine region in the world with Damien Barton-Sartorius of Langoa and Léoville Barton. 

Damien Barton-Sartorius on Ch. Langoa Barton

Keeping up with the Bartons

The growing season in 2019, as is becoming the norm these days, started with a warm February and March, leading to an early budbreak at the beginning of April. An early budbreak leads to a nail-biting spring for the vignerons, where the window for frost damage is only extended. Fortunately, there were only a couple of occasions where temperatures dropped to dangerous levels, with most Chablis producers today well equipped either with smudge pots, electrical heating wires or water sprays to offset the frost damage.  At Long-Depaquit they lost just 5%, which was not a concern. Samuel Billaud notes that the frost was much more dangerous on the lower slopes of Chablis where damage was higher than the 1er Cru and Grand Cru sites which were largely undamaged. For Olivier Bailly, winemaker at Domaine Billaud Simon, it was not simply the direct damage of the frosts (particularly on the night of 14th April) but the resultant stress on the vine following the outbreak that saw yields further affected. However, the real issue in regard to yields, came down to flowering rather than frost, with a windy, rainy, wet period during May which meant yields were notably affected. This period led to a lot of heterogeneity in the bunches and also noticeable millerandage (which results in very small berries): this does not affect quality but markedly lowers yield. Unlike 2018, therefore, 2019 is a low-crop vintage with producers’ yields ranging from 20 to 40% below normal. Despite the poor flowering, the rest of the growing season was straightforward, with very little rain and plenty of sunshine, which meant excellent sanitary conditions in the vineyard with no rot at all and very little sorting required at picking. There were two short heatwaves, one at the end of June and another at the end of July, which did cause sunburn damage to exposed grapes but other than that, no sorting was required. Regarding temperatures and rainfall, it was similar to 2018 with average rainfalls down 50% on average. Temperatures were also a full 2.2 degrees above average during the growing season, which is quite extraordinary. When comparing the similar effects of drought and sunshine in the 2018 vintage, vignerons talked about how the high yields helped dilute the intensity of the sun. With half the crop, how did the grapes survive in 2019? Was this to be a low-acid vintage with abnormal tropical fruit tones like 2015 or 2003? Matthieu Mangenot, winemaker at Domaine Long-Depaquit, describes how something quite unusual happened. In the later part of the growing season, the grapes concentrated – with water in the berries evaporating from the skins. This increased sugar levels and therefore alcohol (typically to 13.4 to 13.8%, which is high for Chablis, but it concentrated the acid levels too. Despite the drought and heat, the acid levels sit close to great vintages such as 2008, 2014 and 2018, with a pH of 3.25 to 3.3 after malolactic fermentation. Olivier Bailly at Domaine Billaud Simon had even higher acidity levels (between 3.10 - 3.25 pH), stating, “It is the magic of Chablis to find Chardonnay retaining such acidity, despite the warm weather”.  The result is, as Mangenot told us, “undoubtedly a ripe, concentrated, powerful vintage, but with a freshness too, at the same time retaining real Chablis mineral typicity. It is a hot, warm vintage but it does not really behave like that in the glass.” The fruit ripeness is similar to ’15 – but there are no excess aromatics of over-ripeness or yellowness in the wine that is typical of the low-acid vintages like ’05 and ’06. The acid profile is much more like ’17, and very much still retaining a sense of place, avoiding the tropical fruit aromas of 2015. Samuel Billaud describes 2019 as “highly concentrated Chablis with sun-kissed aromatics – it is concentrated, with balanced structure and excellent minerality. It is a ‘gourmand’ [moreish] vintage, yet with tense, structural minerality.”  Our own impressions is there is no doubt a concentration and aromatic pungency to the wines, yet the nose retains the Chablis-esque chalky minerality and savoury dried-straw tone, as well as lifted floral aromatics. There is noticeable power, weight and warmth to the palate even on the Premiers Crus, with the top examples retaining mouth-watering acidity despite this opulence and concentration. They really have a wonderful combination of intensity and power, while retaining mineral typicity. Producers such as Samuel Billaud still has a majority of his 2019s undergoing élevage, with the Grands Crus left another six months in tank before being bottled. Despite them being babies the wines are already showing a lot of promise. Billaud compares his 2019s to the 2016s in terms of riper aromatics, but with much more concentration and minerality. It also has similarities to the 2017 vintage when it comes to structure and minerality, he says.  For Mangenot, the power and concentration allied with vibrant acidity and minerality makes this vintage hard to compare, “It doesn’t really taste like any other,” he says, “but for Chablis-lovers, it makes it a fascinating vintage to discover.” Read more Editorial

As the first Chablis 2019s are released, we talk to top producers in the region – including Samuel Billaud, Matthieu Mangenot from Domaine Long-Depaquit and Olivier Bailly from Domaine Billaud-Simon – about the vintage

We talk to top producers in the region Samuel Billaud, Domaine Long-Depaquit and Olivier Bailly from Domaine Billaud-Simon – about 2019 the vintage

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