Navigating the world of whisky sometimes requires a compass. This glossary aims to untangle some of the most common terms that trip people up when it comes to the production and enjoyment of whisky

A guide for all the commonly used and misunderstood terms in the world of whisky. You’ll find everything you need to know when purchasing and enjoying whisky.

A comprehensive guide to whisky terms

Whisky glossary

This year Michael Silacci is celebrating 21 years at Opus One. Taking over as winemaker for Napa’s first cult estate and arguably the region’s most famous property (a joint venture between Ch. Mouton Rothchild and Robert Mondavi) was no small task. But Silacci’s experience was almost unparalleled; he’d worked in the valley for 40 years, under some of the most iconic producers in the region’s history. In the 1980s, Silacci was mentored by America’s most influential post-Prohibition winemaker, André Tchelistcheff at Beaulieu Vineyard. In the 1990s, he became the right-hand man of Napa legend Warren Winiarski at Stag’s Leap Wine Cellars. When he took the role at Opus One in 2001, he was making wine alongside Mouton’s winemaker Patrick Léon and Robert Mondavi’s son Tim Mondavi. Of all the many things he learnt from these mentors, it was their belief in him that really empowered him – and it was this that would shape his work ethic at Opus. Silacci understood the power of responsibility from a very young age. Working in his grandfather’s dairy farm at the age of 10, he was an essential cog in the operation. “He was a very practical man,” says Silacci of his grandfather, “and would allow me to get on with my work, without ever looking over my shoulder.” Silacci quickly learnt what was expected of him. Silacci found himself in a similar position in his first winemaking job. He had just finished his studies at the University of Bordeaux. While he had worked in wineries and vineyards before, up until that point he had never really been given any responsibility or allowed to make decisions. In a subsequent internship, he found himself under the mentorship of Bordeaux wine legend, Denis Dubourdieu (Ch. Doisy-Daëne), who turned to Silacci and said, “You have taken all the classes, so make the wine!” Dubourdieu instantly put his faith in Silacci’s abilities, which was hugely inspiring for the young winemaker.   It wasn’t long before Silacci was drawn back to the US and Napa where things were really starting to develop; first working at Beaulieu Vineyard, then at Stag’s Leap Wine Cellars. In the 1990s, Silacci witnessed a lot of change in the valley as phylloxera ravaged the region. “First, there was denial, then there was anger and finally we learnt from it,” he says. “If Napa was to survive as a wine-producing region, people had to work together to solve its problems.” The group effort that followed – experimenting with rootstocks and clones, and most importantly sharing their discoveries, seeking the right combination to sustain the region’s future –was inspirational. This was a problem that couldn’t be solved by the individual.  When the opportunity arose to join Opus One in 2001, Silacci leapt at the opportunity – but it wasn’t an easy start. Silacci was used to a hands-on role, working in the vineyard and winery. At Beaulieu Vineyard, he oversaw 28,000 acres, five vineyard management teams, five winemakers and 85 grape growers. Under Tchelistcheff and Winiarski, he had learnt how to read the valley – noting how fruit in the same vineyard changed where the soils did, that different parts of the same vineyard would ripen at different times. It was this understanding of Napa’s terroir that he wanted to bring to Opus. His first week, however, consisted of back-to-back office meetings. “Don’t ever schedule a week for me like that again,” he told his PA.  Silacci arrived at Opus One with his eyes wide open and mouth shut, wanting to observe how the operation was working – and where potential problems lay. While everyone knew what they were doing, h felt that a sense of collective responsibility – and the passion that comes with that sense of ownership – was missing.  In such a big organisation – operating as part of the Mondavi stable in Napa – he wasn’t going to be able to change things overnight, but Silacci didn’t waste any time in the vineyard. When he arrived, the viticultural teams worked across the brands. One week they would be pruning To Kalon (Napa’s prized vineyard, of which 100 acres goes into Opus One), and the next week they would be pruning vines for a $25 bottle of Chardonnay in Carneros. For Silacci, this didn’t make any sense, and the vines needed to be treated differently. He knew from experience that a permanent viticultural team taking ownership of the vines they cared for would improve the quality of the fruit. Within four weeks, he had two teams dedicated solely to the Opus One vineyards. Changing attitudes in the cellar was not so easy. “It was very difficult to integrate with the team,” admits Silacci. “They were very set in their ways and were not really interested in doing things differently.” Silacci identified that it wasn’t what they were doing, but their attitude towards doing it that he felt was wrong. “The cellar crew only did one thing at a time,” says Silacci. “That was their reason for doing something well.” But Silacci, true to form, took a different approach. “Any living thing, human or plant, has to have a sense of urgency,” he says. “If you give people too little work to do and vines too much water, they develop a sense of leisure, they get distracted and miss opportunities… But if you give people too much to do and the plant too little water, they develop a sense of anxiety. They are stressed, which is not healthy and they make mistakes.” Silacci’s goal was to find a middle path. More than that, like his mentors before him, he wanted them to take responsibility in what they did and, with that, instil more passion in the team. “I knew they understood the mechanisms of winemaking,” says Silacci, “but I didn’t know if they felt it. I don’t know if they are passionate about what they do.” He decided to split the cellar team into two teams of three. Each was given 22 rows of the top vineyard. “Between them they had to make all the decisions on pruning, suckering, fruit drop, harvest decisions – everything.” Each team would then make around 1,000 bottles each at the end of the year.  Projects like this, Silacci believes, not only gave his team a sense of autonomy and responsibility, but it helped build passion for what they were doing. “You create a sense of urgency, and you get back a sense of focus,” he says.  Silacci believes that a consensus among the team is key – but only if everyone is equally invested in the final product. Today he has a permanent team of five, who together create the final blend. They are also joined at the later stages by Mouton’s Jean-Emmanuel Danjoy and another of the Mondavi team. Typically, they produce over 50 blends each year before making their decision. And it’s the most important decision of the year. “Blending really is at the heart of Opus One,” Silacci says.  The idea is that everyone in the team has a voice – and everyone is listened to equally. He feels it took 10-15 years for the team to completely understand this consensus-driven approach.  While the theory may not always work, admits Silacci (“Ultimately it is my head on the chopping block”), his aim is to empower his team with responsibility. Like his mentors before him, he loves to give them autonomy in their role, allowing them to figure it out on their own – meaning they’re more invested in what they do. “We all have a blind spot,” he says, “But if you have people standing with you, looking out, they mask your and other people’s weaknesses and you build a circle of people each with their strengths,” he says. For Silacci, the collective – like a blend – is stronger than the individual. “The very best teams,” he says in a calming, zen-like tone, “are not circles, but spheres.” And that perfect sphere is what he continues to strive for at Opus. Find out more about and browse all listings from Opus One or read more Editorial 

Under the tenure of winemaker Michael Silacci Opus One has gone from strength to strength. But it’s not him or owners Mouton-Rothschild and Mondavi that are at the heart of its success; for Silacci, it’s all down to the power of collective responsibility

After 21 years at cult Napa estate Opus One, Michael Silacci believes much of his success lies in collective responsibility. Here’s why.

Opus One's winemaker on collective responsibility

Opus One’s Michael Silacci on the power of collective responsibility

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. 

Chaptalisation and Bordeaux 2021

A spoonful of sugar

Screaming Eagle winemaker Nick Gislason wears many hats – he is also the Technical Director of Lopez Island Community Fireworks and co-founder of Hanabi Lager. FONDATA's Gavin Lucas caught up with the busy man to discuss how these dichotomous ventures have more in common than you might think.

Screaming Eagle's Nick Gislason on winemaking, beer brewing (Hanabi Lager) and designing fireworks (Island Community Fireworks)

FONDATA: Curiosity & Wonder: Magic’s Secret Ingredients 

Curiosity and wonder: magic’s secret ingredients

2020 Calon Ségur, Saint-Estèphe This Calon Ségur has a lovely interplay of earthy, mineral notes with a touch of smokiness, fresh leather and concentrated berry fruit aromas, all beautifully compacted on a focused nose. The wine starts surprisingly supple with the soft, ripe yet detailed tannins slowly building on the palate. This wine takes you by surprise, becoming more and more focused on the palate. There is a lovely pristine quality to the fruit, an equilibrium and tension to the wine. Alongside the fruit are sweeter dark chocolate notes and green herbal tones providing a complex flavour spectrum on the mid-palate. It finishes with great energy, verve and vibrant acidity. The more clay-like Saint Estèphe minerality really comes through on the finish. Excellent. 2020 Ch. Pichon Comtesse, Pauillac There are few wines in 2020 that have such a distinct Pauillac character than the Pichon Comtesse, bristling with pure pencil-lead graphite minerality, backed by earthy notes and toasted spices. There is a lovely suppleness to the wine – very juicy, fresh and ripe but with no hint of over-ripeness, and an underlying mouth-watering salinity. This is a complex palate with plenty going on – baked black fruit, redcurrant, liquorice and a greener, vinous element too. With over 72% Cabernet in the blend (65% Cabernet Sauvignon and 7% Cabernet Franc), it is no surprise the wine has amazing focus, freshness and direction on the palate. The fruit remains crisp and fresh throughout, the cassis beautifully entwined with the graphite notes, all focusing right to the back of the palate. The balance and poise is exceptional, giving real energy to the fantail finish. 2020 Ch. Léoville Barton, Saint-Julien The 2020 Ch. Léoville Barton takes a while to emerge from the glass, but when it does it is boysenberry bright, shifting to pure dark blackcurrant, cedar and soft spice, with an almost orange zest freshness and a scented, floral lift. On the palate, this is beautiful – powerful and fine textured. There’s a vibrancy to the acidity, bringing precision and clarity to the fruit expression, while the powdery tannins have an almost parma violet feel to them. Fresh and lush, there’s a brightness to the blackcurrant and redcurrant fruit that carries to the long finish. Elegant, pure, with much more to come. 2020 Ch. Margaux, Margaux While closed at first, the aromatics of the 2020 Ch. Margaux develops beautifully with air, releasing a complex array of peony, rose floral and menthol aromas with warmer toasted spice notes. There is a lovely concentration and density to the palate both in terms of fruit concentration and tannin detail. The pristine red and black fruit is so fresh and juicy but compacted by the tannins, focusing the wine right down the centre of the palate, providing extraordinary depth. High quality oak tones – cedar and spice – bite at the fruit, creating an
amazing layering effect of spice, fruit and tannin. The handling of the oak is excellent. While very present, it keeps the wine focused and manages the sheer abundance of tannins on the mid-palate. This is a wine built to last.  2020 Ch. les Carmes Haut-Brion, Pessac-Léognan This 2020 Ch. les Carmes Haut-Brion starts a little reticent, a dark brooding nose that slowly opens to reveal a lovely balancing concoction of aromas across the fruit and floral spectrum. Fresh blackcurrant chimes with greener herbal notes giving lift to the nose and an overwhelming sense of freshness. The tannins are concentrated, detailed, fully resolved and – more than anything – they have an energy that excites the palate. The clarity of fruit is exceptional, it almost feels like you are
crunching on fresh berries – it is pristine. This is beautifully balanced, awash with freshness, while the lovely Cabernet Franc herbal notes add florality and lift to the palate. 2020 Ch. Smith Haut Lafitte, Pessac-Léognan The 2020 Ch. Smith Haut Lafitte is plump, dark and a little brooding on the nose, with a mineral note and something a little animal. On the palate, it’s similarly dark-fruited but with savoury depths to complement the quite plush blackberry and black plum fruit. It’s fulsome and round – but with a saline freshness. There is real purity and concentration to the waves of dark, fresh fruit – ripe and plump blackberries and dark plum. The tannins are really ripe and beautifully melded, yet present, providing the necessary structure. This is delicious, and quite moreish with that salinity complementing the otherwise dark-fruited profile. 2020 Ch. Angélus, Saint-Emilion Angélus has produced a profound wine in 2020, continuing a clear move that we’ve seen over the last four years or so – away from power and towards elegance. The team rightly says the 2020 has a “sublimity” to it. It also showcases the finer detail of the Right Bank wines this year – a beautiful, delicate, floral, peony scent, matched by wonderfully dark, smoky, toasted spice, fruitier baked berries and lighter, buttery, pastry notes. The wine has fantastic texture, with detailed but perfectly ripe tannins that ripple across the palate, coated in dense, concentrated forest fruit of fantastic purity. The Cabernet Franc brings mouth-watering freshness and a minerality too. The assemblage is 60% Merlot, 40% Cabernet Franc with part of the Cabernet aged in 30hl foudre (the latter to reduce the Cabernet Franc’s exposure to oxygen).This is plush but beautifully elegant Angélus. A magical wine. 2020 Ch. Canon, Saint-Emilion An abundance of fresh fruit aromas along with saline, mineral and dry spice notes fill the nose. The fruit is darker in character to its neighbouring Ch. Berliquet (tasted alongside), but still straddles the red and black fruit spectrum nicely. The fruit is fantastically fresh. There is a wonderful equilibrium to the wine – while the fruit is pristine, there is no shortage of concentration and mid-palate roundness. The tannins are unbelievably fine, bringing an effortless, structural detail and depth to the wine, firming up on the finish, indicating there’s plenty more to give. The finish is extraordinarily long. This is exceptional, even for Ch. Canon. 2020 Ch. Clinet, Pomerol  The 2020 Ch. Clinet is an immense and stunning wine. The nose is rich with milk chocolate and dried fruit – but also something fresh and crunchy about it. There’s an exoticism to the wine’s expressive perfume – almost shisha-like. On the palate, this is thick, full, round and intense – a weighty
wine with a cocoa richness to it, but an incredible purity of dark berry and plummy fruit. There’s plenty of juicy acidity to offset the wine’s richness and mass of super-ripe tannins. Tight, dense and intense, this is a wine that needs time to fully unfurl. 2020 Enclos Tourmaline, Pomerol The Enclos Tourmaline is opaque in colour with a brooding, compacted nose. It has lovely high-quality, toasted oak notes of dry spice interspersed with iron-esque mineral tones and subtle floral, violet aromas. Ripe, pristine plum and blueberry fruit dominate the palate. The tannins are very detailed and fine. The palate is dense, rich and layered, but not over the
top, with lovely restraint and a distinct textural finesse. What’s more, there’s a vibrant acidic energy running straight down the middle of the palate, adding real excitement. The wine is backed by touch of firmness and good mineral underpinning. This is very well-balanced. Excellent. Explore Bordeaux or read more Editorial

Bordeaux produced some stunning wines in 2020. While we haven’t yet tasted everything – notably Chx Mouton and Lafite Rothschild – here’s our pick of our 10 favourites so far, wines that have really shone in this remarkable vintage

Explore our 10 favourite Bordeaux 2020 wines we have tasted so far, featuring Calon Ségur, Ch. Margaux, Clinet and Canon 

Top 10 Bordeaux 2020 wines tasted so far

Bordeaux 2020: our favourites

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. 

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