Each November, the wine world looks to Burgundy for the Hospices de Beaune auction. We dive into the history of this philanthropic institution, the domaine and the wines it produces

Explore the history of Burgundy’s Hotel-Dieu and Hospices de Beaune, its wine estate and the famous annual auction, the Vente des Vins

Your guide to the wines of the Hospices de Beaune

Everything you need to know about the Hospices de Beaune

Some wine regions dance to the beat of their own drum. From the sweeter reds of Ethiopia’s Rift Valley to the soft-styled fizz of Altos de Pinto Bandeira, Arnica Rowan explores far-flung regions with distinctive approaches to growing vines and making wine – almost exclusively for their own people

Arnica Rowan explores wines that don’t make it to the international market – with distinctive styles from Ethiopia, Brazil, Thailand and beyond

Discover the wines of Ethiopia, Brazil and beyond

Not for export

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

Exploring the world of eaux de vie with artisan distillers who are elevating the ancient harvest ritual to the realm of alchemy

Exploring the world of eaux de vie with Rochelt, Capreolus, Domaine Roulot and Capovilla, who are elevating the ancient harvest ritual to the realm of alchemy

FONDATA: The quest for distilled perfection - eaux de vie

Fruits of wonder: the quest for distilled perfection

When Jean-Marc Roulot wandered through the family estate’s cellars one, seemingly ordinary day, he happened upon something unexpected. The vigneron had walked the hallowed paths innumerable times during his legendary father Guy’s life and during the 15 years since his sudden passing in 1982. But there, in a long-forgotten corner of the cellars, lay 12 dusty bottles of apricot liqueur. Jean-Marc knew all about his father’s production of pear and apple brandy, and his family tradition of producing marc de Bourgogne and fine de Bourgogne. The still, which he used and remains in operation today, dates back to 1866 and used to be on wheels so the family could move from village to village. So well-known was this distillation heritage, in fact, that Jean-Marc’s mother used to joke that the still paid for their vineyards. What came as a surprise to the actor-cum-winemaker was the existence of L’Abricot. “I had never seen him make this liqueur,” the 65-year-old says. “It was absolutely delicious and I wanted to try to find this recipe.” This discovery in 2008 set Jean-Marc on a mission to reproduce the liqueur from instinct, as no recipe existed, and increase the estate’s staple of brandies, eaux de vie and liqueurs. In some instances, the winemaker was able to follow recipes and meet with fruit producers to reinstate his father’s relationships. For others, he had to forge his own path. “I wanted to reconnect with that [tradition],” he adds. Jean-Marc says he’s always had a passion for distillation, having learned the skill from his father, and feels it has influenced his winemaking. When distilling, Jean-Marc focuses on two things: purity and authenticity. When asked, he says it is of paramount importance that the end product tastes like the fruit. It seems obvious, perhaps, but this is not always the case with overly saccharine fruit-based liqueurs. In order to achieve these two things, Jean-Marc has reduced the sugar levels over time – from 180g/l sugar 10 years ago to 160g/l in the latest iterations. “Sugar is of course a flattering element in a liqueur, but it can also mask the fruit,” he says. “By lowering the sugar levels, I feel like I'm putting the fruit forward.” From more classic pear and raspberry to the most recent addition, lemon liqueur, Jean-Marc says the fruit choices have largely been emotive. “I chose to make a pear alcohol since my father already made this 40 years ago with fruits from the Hautes Côtes de Beaune,” he says. “He was doing the same thing in a much smaller amount with the raspberry than I am doing. For these two fruits in brandies, it is therefore a family tradition.” The pears are sourced from the same site in the Hautes Côtes de Beaune that his father used, while the apricots (previously from the orchards of Chave) come courtesy of Laurent Combier (of Domaine Combier) in the Rhône. While he used to be able to source them locally, raspberries are now hard to find – and these, along with his lemons, come from further afield (Bulgaria and Sicily, respectively). After finding the bottles of apricot liqueur and working with the fruit in that capacity, the idea occurred to Jean-Marc to ferment them to make brandy as well. He’s also turned his hand to lemon liqueur and doesn’t rule out further fruit experimentation, perhaps with grapefruit. When asked about these fruits in relation to terroir, Jean-Marc says he doesn’t think they can reflect their terroir “as well” or “as faithfully” as grapes. “Perhaps this is due to the size of the plant, the density of planting, the attention we pay to the work of the vineyard and all the care we take around the grape when it comes back to the winery,” he adds. “There is generally a ‘signature’ effect in grapes that I do not find in a fruit like pear for example.”  He does, however, think the distillation process has taught him a considerable amount. “As we are mainly winegrowers, we seem to think that our knowledge on this subject has influenced the work on the still, but I sincerely believe that the precision that distillation requires has influenced us in the other direction, towards our work as a winegrower.” One senses Jean-Marc’s discovery of those 12 unassuming bottles all those years ago had a much greater impact on him than merely influencing his production of superlative wines, and now, his fruit brandies, eaux de vie and liqueurs. Find out more about Domaine Roulot or read more Editorial

Meursault-based Domaine Roulot is one of the finest estates in the Côte de Beaune. But it’s not just grapes that cross the threshold at this domaine. Owner and winemaker Jean-Marc tells us about the family’s fruit-based spirits – and how they’ve influenced his winemaking

The famous Meursault vigneron Domaine Roulot on his family’s other project - the family’s fruit-based spirit

Domaine Roulot Meursault fruit-based spirits

A secret still: Domaine Roulot

Quiet, even subdued, cautious, the Neal Martin on my screen is quite different to the garrulous character I’d imagined from his writing. On the page (or more often these days, the screen), Martin pokes fun at the wine industry, his articles often opening with satirical fiction that doesn’t hold back.  His reports and tasting notes are littered with music references (think Primal Scream and The Smiths rather than Wagner and Bach), and mentions that are sometimes pointedly popular – his first Bordeaux en primeur report for the Wine Advocate (taking over from Robert Parker) opened with a line from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. On our call, however, each word feels deliberate and considered, confident, but with a definite wariness that doesn’t quite fade.  Aged 50, the Vinous writer’s trajectory to wine stardom is unusual. Born in Essex, Martin grew up in a household that didn’t drink wine, so nor did he. In fact, he had no interest in it and blagged his way into the industry. In 1996, having lived in Japan, he applied for a role sourcing wines for a subsidiary of Japan Airlines: the only hitch that he didn’t know anything about wine at the time.  “I lied my way through the interview. I went to an off-licence the night before. Memorised some of the labels. I just reeled off a couple of names… [they] thought I was into wine and gave me the job,” he tells me, still rather bemused by their decision. Coincidentally Martin returned to the same shop last year, where unbeknown to him, his tale lives on as local offy legend – the famous wine taster that got his start right there in Leigh-on-Sea (with the owners even deeming him worthy of several selfies).  Unashamedly a terrible employee, he spent much of his time in his role for Japan Airlines starting his wine writing career (although it also sounds like there was a fair amount of lunching too). “I was kind of bored one lunchtime, bought a book on computer coding. I found I could make a webpage, and just kind of built the original wine-journal.com when I should have been working,” he says. From the novelty of creating a site, he started writing his own tasting notes. At that time the great wine writers were Michael Broadbent, Steven Spurrier and Hugh Johnson – English gentlemen, in short; charming, wonderful, but – for many – unrelatable, very “high culture”, as Martin puts it. He set out to be “more down-to-earth, funny, irreverent”.   “At the time, there was nobody else really doing that. There was this huge audience that liked to drink Bordeaux – but also liked Radiohead.” It struck a chord – and soon his self-built site was getting over 500,000 hits per month. No wonder therefore that in 2006 Robert Parker – then still at the height of his fame – approached the music-minded Englishman to join the Wine Advocate team.   Of course, Parker was renowned for not just the power of his palate and revolutionary points system, but for his personal tastes. Many argue that his preference for intensely ripe, high-octane, new-oak-aged styles shifted the entire world of wine – pushing producers to craft wines that would earn his favour. “Especially more to the end of his career, he had a certain palate… but people always forget that he reviewed German wines and Alsace and so on. So it becomes a little bit of a cliché,” Martin says of his once mentor.  The world of flavour is undeniably subjective, yet Parker was – by some – damned for just that, daring to express his personal preference. Total impartiality when it comes to the matter of taste seems impossible. After I ask whether or not he feels there’s room for bias in wine writing, Martin is clear: “I think a critic should stand up for what they believe in. Anyone can say the First Growths are great, DRC is great. I’d rather read someone who has a definite view on something, whether they like natural wines, or orange wines. Stand up for what you believe in. Then it’s up to the reader to decide.”  In fact, he goes as far to say, it’s potentially the lack of difference in views that has led to wine criticism becoming “a bit beige” in recent years – because now it’s a career, something upon which people depend for their livelihood. “It’s more of a risk if you say this famous name didn’t produce a great wine,” Martin notes. The danger of losing access to wines that are far beyond most critics’ budgets is a threat to the independence of wine writing, but also a massive obstacle to new voices in the industry. It’s an especial challenge given many of the wines Martin reviews – in particular older vintages – might only be pulled out at private dinners, hosted in producers’ homes. The very nature of wine – limited in production and fleeting in its consumption – leads to a reliance on the hospitality of its makers. Martin argues that for that exact reason the most independent “critics” are arguably those he describes as the “grands amateurs” – those who can afford to buy the world’s finest wines, and therefore say what they want.   Martin, however, feels there’s a line to be found where he can maintain distance yet be friendly – and, importantly, speak freely. He highlights Laurent Ponsot’s 2015s – which he gave relatively scathing scores – but, having known Laurent for many years, Martin was happy to tell the vigneron outright that he thought they were picked too late.  As for Martin, he had a lucky start with access to unbelievable wines in what he deems a “golden era” for fine wine in the 1990s, when top Burgundy and First Growths remained affordable for the many – and were poured freely by the trade. “I’ve never taken that for granted. Some of the wines I drink… they’re what my friends earn in three or four months. I never drink a wine and I’m blasé about it. But I’ve been around long enough to say what I think.”   Preserving his voice has always been of key importance to Martin – not willing to compromise on keeping his distinctively tongue-in-cheek tone, but also offer something more than just a tasting note. “When I joined Parker, it was an easy decision – he was a kind of god. But at the same time I wanted to make sure I could still write in the way I wrote,” he tells me. “Anyone can taste the wines and add a number, but for me it’s more interesting to create something that’s interesting, gives you insight… that’s the challenge: to write something people don’t expect,” Martin says. Does he feel he’s achieving that? His answer: “When my primeur report comes out, read the first three paragraphs and let me know.” [We spoke at the end of April, just before the report was published.]  For Martin, his love of music is integral to his work. Indeed, it seems that way – the record player and stacks of vinyl visible behind him on our Zoom call, his Instagram feed almost equally split between sleeve covers and labels – and he feels that it makes him a better writer. He looks back to Hugh Johnson (an avid gardener) or Michael Broadbent (pianist and art enthusiast) for precedent. “Wine can be a boring subject – but it’s when you put it with other things that it becomes more interesting,” he says.  Case in point is his recent article on Grand Mayne, he tells me: “It’s more about time, and parenthood, and… kind of sad in a way. To me, that’s the kind of counterbalance to the dryness about wine. It smells of strawberries and it’s 92 points. There’s the other side to the story – that’s the harder part to write, but for me it’s more satisfying.”  Indeed, he even self-published his book Pomerol (in 2012) to avoid the unwelcome interference of editors. In 2017, Martin made the leap to Vinous – joining fellow Wine Advocate alumnus Antonio Galloni’s new venture, and while he’s kept his voice, he’s also had to learn how to be edited “which was… quite a challenge for me at first,” he admits. “But actually now it’s something I really needed. I think they make better articles, it makes me think a bit more about writing.”  There have been a lot of bottles over the years (Vinous alone holds over 21,000 of his tasting notes), but it was a bottle of 1982 Montrose that started everything. “It wasn’t the best wine I’ve ever had by a long way… It’s a disappointing 1982,” he says. “Enjoy with modest expectations” reads his note from 2017 (88 points – upgraded to 91 points at his most recent tasting in 2018). Disappointing it may be, but it’s the bottle that made him sit up and take wine seriously, realising why people obsessed over it – although he’s clear that, for him, wine isn’t everything.  “Wine is my job – if it didn’t pay I couldn’t do it. I love wine, but I don’t think I’m obsessed with it. I don’t drink wine every day, and it doesn’t bother me if I don’t. If you think wine is everything, you’re missing something,” he says, frankly. I wonder how much this perspective has been shaped by Martin’s quadruple bypass surgery two years ago – a skirmish with the other side that has forced a visibly drastic lifestyle change, and about which he has been vocal.  In Martin’s own words, it’s a “bizarre set of circumstances” that set him on his wine-lined path, yet here he is, his pen and palate working in combination to make him one of the world’s most influential wine writers. While the golden era that allowed him to enter the industry might be over, he feels that – despite now being “very, very expensive” – in some ways wine is more accessible than ever.  “I meet so many more people from so many walks of life. I love it when you sit around the table and everyone’s from different countries. But as soon as you put a wine in front of them – everyone’s on the same level.” While one can’t argue that Martin champions the “everyman” reviewing the world’s finest wines, it’s remarkable in many ways that he hasn’t erred from his original purpose. Though the Essex-born critic doesn’t seem comfortable under the spotlight, on the page he’s at ease – free to fight against the pomposity of wine, with an irreverence and knowing self-ridicule that has put him front and centre in the industry – whether he likes it or not.  Read more Editorial 

Neal Martin – now of Vinous, previously the Wine Advocate – is one of the world’s leading wine writers. Sophie Thorpe talks to the determinedly off-beat critic about his path into wine and why there’s much more to life than brilliant bottles

Neal Martin – now of Vinous, previously the Wine Advocate – on his path into wine and why there’s much more to life than brilliant bottles

Neal Martin, striking a chord

Neal Martin: striking a chord

“Good maturity, a nice freshness and lots of energy” Olivier Lamy, Domaine Hubert Lamy “Microscopic grapes each with very little juice but perfect balance” Guillaume Boillot, Domaine Henri Boillot These comments from some of the leading white winemakers in the Côte d’Or sum up our findings nicely. 2019 is a fantastic vintage for whites in the Côte de Beaune. The wines are both generous and exuberant, while retaining fantastic acidity and freshness. Despite the volume on the palate and, in some cases, warming alcohol (ranging from 13.5% to 14.5%), the Chardonnays predominantly retain a classic Burgundy flavour profile. It is not all pineapple and passion fruit, but lots of ripe apple, white peach and that acidity running through the palate keeps these lavish Chardonnays feeling fresh. So where does 2019 sit compared to other recent vintages of Chardonnay in the Côte de Beaune?  Many believe it is not a vintage that can easily be compared. The combination of maturity and freshness for many is something not experienced before. The 2019 growing season, like 2018, was warm and dry. In fact many vignerons saw huge similarities in terms of temperature and rainfall (or lack of) between 2019 and the previous summer, with both considerably higher in sunshine hours and lower in rainfall than average. However, there were distinct differences that has made 2019 clearly a cut above its 2018 compatriots. Most obviously and particularly for the white wines of the Côte d’Or is an increase in both concentration and acidity, caused by drastically low yields and small berries (a result of a difficult flowering period during the spring). The generosity of the vintage is therefore unlike the more austere, citric vintages of 2011, and it does not have the linearity and focus of 2014. It is undoubtedly a warm vintage for the Côte de Beaune but it is clear that vignerons are getting a better handle on how to deal with the heat. Many were keen to make the point that these days they pick on acid levels rather than alcohol, and maybe that has helped them get the picking date right. Also notable in parts of the Côte de Beaune malic acid levels were very low in 2019 (typical for sunny vintages) and this where relevant certainly played a part in the wine’s composition. Low malic acid actually helps emphasise the freshness in the final wine, since the malic acid is converted to lactic acid during malolactic fermentation during élevage. The more lactic acid, the more the wines feel softer and creamier. The malolactic fermentation therefore had much less of an effect in the 2019 whites, the result being an accentuation of freshness that beautifully contrasts the generosity and richness of fruit. Despite being a warm year, it certainly hasn’t fallen into the trap of 2015, a similarly warm vintage where the aromas were distinctly tropical and the wines a little flabby – a result of picking too late. A term we heard used a lot when visiting the wineries was that 2019 was a “floral” year. There is undoubtedly an expressiveness of aromas for a grape that often can be a little shy on the nose. For Fiona Ragg at Mischief & Mayhem, despite the similarities to 2018, “It had nothing like the sunshine hours. And didn’t suffer from heat spikes either.” Etienne de Montille noted that while it was warm during the day, the nights were distinctly cooler than in 2018, helping the vines regenerate, preserve acidity and prolong ripening, allowing more complex aromatics to develop.  The dry weather kept disease at bay and a harvest around the second week of September under ideal conditions saw grapes brought in in perfect health. Was it these factors that helped retain such delicate florality to these “gourmand” wines? Many of the producers we spoke to believe that 2019 offers a certain degree of precision and delicacy which, at the height of a warm July, they were not expecting. The freshness in the wines is a welcome surprise for many. This is matched by a lovely pristine fruit clarity not dissimilar to 2017, but with much more concentration – and much more freshness than 2018.  An interesting comment from Jadot’s Frédéric Barnier when struggling to compare the vintages is that in the past, vintages as rich and concentrated as 2019 relied on a certain level of botrytis in the vineyards. But in 2019 there was no botrytis, this was just natural concentration caused by the small size of berries combined with the low yields. 
Qualitatively, there seems to be tremendous consistency across the appellations, but also across producers. If anything, what seemed most evident to me was producers who perhaps were a little disappointing in 2018 produced much better wines in 2019, and the top producers seemed to really excel. In this respect, the vintage stands head and shoulders above vintages such as 2016 and 2013, where selection was essential. Yes, there are some flamboyant examples and they are hugely enjoyable for it, even if they do push the classic concept of white Burgundy to the limit. The majority of the wines we tasted, however, remain much closer in flavour profile to the classic Côte de Beaune flavours of yellow apple and white peach, with a strong mineral salinity shining through on the limestone soils, and richer body and creaminess of the heavier clay soils. The wines behave as they should, reflecting their respective terroirs despite the added concentration and verve. The top wines eschew a beautiful fruit clarity and are delightfully expressive, with a lifted florality, avoiding the overt tropical notes which can bury what we know and love about white Burgundy in a warm vintage. The clarity of fruit, exuberant florality, concentration and freshness combined makes 2019 a very happy vintage. The lack of volume however remains the sting in the tail, with some producers down up to 50% on normal production levels due to a bout of frost (on the low-lying vineyards), poor flowering throughout the region and hydric stress affecting
the young Chardonnay vines. These episodes, however, have not diminished quality and, in some important ways, have helped define a unique and exciting vintage for Chardonnay in the Côte de Beaune.  Explore Burgundy

Burgundy producers are just starting to release their 2019s – a vintage that offers amazing consistency and balance. After a week tasting in the Côte d’Or, Gavin Smith delves deeper into the whites of the Côte de Beaune, putting the vintage in context

Burgundy producers are just starting to release their 2019 wines – a vintage that offers amazing consistency and balance. 

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