The Internal Ranking: Why the 2007 is So Special in Tignanello’s History

There exists for Tignanello a quiet, unofficial hierarchy of vintages — a list maintained by critics and collectors alike that separates the great from the truly exceptional. At the very top stand the vintages that prove not merely excellent but epochal: 1985, 2001, 2007, 2009, 2010, 2016, 2018. The 2007 stands in this company not despite its history, but because of it.

A Hot Summer, a Cool August — The Recipe for Perfection

The weather record of 2007 on the Tenuta Tignanello reads like the script of a winemaker inventing their ideal vintage. The spring was early and mild — the flowering proceeded uniformly and completely. The first part of the summer was warm and dry, the grapes developing concentration and phenolic ripeness. Then, in August, the weather cooled — exactly when the Sangiovese needs it most. The day-night temperature differentials preserved aromatic freshness and natural acidity. September was perfect for a slow, selective harvest.

Antinori themselves wrote of the 2007: “The Sangiovese expressed its characteristic varietal aromatic notes and elegance, along with beautiful colour, all of which made it possible to foresee a truly great vintage.”

The Last Vintage of the Old Winery

There is a historical detail about the 2007 Tignanello that distinguishes it from every other vintage: it was the last produced before the comprehensive renovation of the Tignanello winery. A winery that since the first vintage of 1971 had been the cradle of a winemaking revolution — the place where Giacomo Tachis and Piero Antinori had broken the rules and invented the Super Tuscans.

Monica Larner, chief critic for Italy at Wine Advocate, found this context significant: the 2007 was not merely a great wine, but the end of a chapter. What came after — the new winery, the new facilities, the new vintages — was a continuation of the story, but a new page. The 2007 is the last line of the first great paragraph.

Today: A Wine in its Third Dimension

Burgundy lovers speak of the “Plénitudes” — the maturation phases of a great wine. Tignanello lovers need no such terminology, but the concept applies equally. After 18 years, the 2007 has reached its third dimension: the phase where primary fruit fuses with tertiary aromas of tobacco, leather, spice and earth — a complexity that can neither be bought nor accelerated. One can only wait.

And then drink. Now.

Beaucastel Blanc Roussanne Vieilles Vignes: The White Wine Nobody Expected

When the Perrin family decided in 1986 to produce a separate cuvée from their oldest Roussanne vines, the wine world’s reaction was lukewarm. Châteauneuf-du-Pape was a red wine appellation. White wine existed of course — but as a by-product, a curiosity, not as a prestige object. Beaucastel had other plans.

1909: The Vines That Founded a Legend

The story of the Roussanne Vieilles Vignes begins with a date worth remembering: 1909. The year Pierre Tramier acquired Château de Beaucastel and planted the first Roussanne vines on the north-western parcel. Vines that are today over 115 years old. Vines that have survived two world wars, the phylloxera crisis, climate change and five generations of the Perrin family.

These vines do not give much. Yields are minimal — 20 to 25 hectolitres per hectare, a fraction of the permitted maximum. But what they give is of a concentration and depth rarely found elsewhere in the world.

Roussanne: The Most Complex White Grape of the Rhône

Roussanne is not easy. She is sensitive, disease-prone, capricious — a grape that demands much and sometimes gives little. Many producers in Châteauneuf-du-Pape have for this reason reduced or abandoned it entirely. Beaucastel did the opposite: they built their entire prestige white wine upon it.

Why? Because Roussanne, when old and growing on the right terroir, can do something no other white wine from the South of France can do: it ages like a great Burgundy. It develops complexity, depth and nuance over decades. It does not become heavier or flatter — it becomes finer, more precise, more profound.

The galets roulés terroir of Beaucastel gives the Roussanne a mineral tension found only in Hermitage or the Châteauneuf whites of Rayas. The combination of century-old vines, organic farming and ageing in demi-muids with 50% new oak creates a wine that cannot decide whether it wants to be richness or elegance — and ends up being both.

500 Cases. No More.

The production of the Roussanne Vieilles Vignes is limited to around 500 cases per year. Not by marketing calculation, but because the parcel simply gives no more. On the secondary market, mature vintages change hands for 500 CHF and upwards. Buyers on the waiting list wait years.

Jeb Dunnuck called the wine “the Montrachet of the southern Rhône” — a claim that initially surprised the wine world and was then increasingly accepted as accurate. Because what Beaucastel achieves here is without parallel in the South: a Grand Cru-quality white wine from a region known, until a few decades ago, for red wine and nothing else.

2009: The Vintage That Confirms Everything

The 2009 vintage was in the southern Rhône exceptionally warm and opulent — one of the most celebrated of recent decades. For the Roussanne Vieilles Vignes, it was ideal: the natural sweetness of the grape found in 2009 the perfect ripeness, the creamy texture its maximum expression, the minerality of the terroir its deepest voice.

Today, after 15 years, this wine drinks brilliantly. Not because it has reached and passed its peak — but because it has arrived exactly where it was always meant to be. The wine needed time. As everything great does.

Nicolas Joly et la Coulée de Serrant : L’Homme qui a Rendu son Âme au Vin

Il y a des vignerons qui font du vin. Il y a des vignerons qui réfléchissent au vin. Et puis il y a Nicolas Joly — un homme qui a tout abandonné de ce qu’il connaissait, est retourné sur une colline dominant la Loire et a décidé de réinventer le vin de fond en comble. Non pas comme technique. Comme philosophie. Comme vision du monde.

L’histoire commence loin de la France.

Le Banquier Devenu Paysan

Nicolas Joly n’était pas vigneron. Il était banquier d’affaires chez Morgan Stanley à New York et à Londres. Bien payé, bien habillé, bien installé. Et puis, en 1977, son père mourut. Joly rentra chez lui — au domaine familial du Château de la Roche aux Moines à Savennières, une petite appellation sur la rive gauche de la Loire que la plupart des Français ne pouvaient pas trouver sur une carte.

Il ne savait rien sur le vin. Il ne savait rien sur la viticulture. Ce qu’il savait — avec la précision d’un analyste financier — c’est que les sols étaient malades. Pesticides. Herbicides. Engrais chimiques. Les sols sentaient le laboratoire, pas la terre.

Rudolf Steiner et la Découverte de la Biodynamie

Ce que Joly fit ensuite semble fou à beaucoup. Il lut Rudolf Steiner — le philosophe et mystique autrichien qui donna en 1924 une série de conférences sur les “fondements spirituels pour le renouvellement de l’agriculture.” Steiner décrivait la ferme comme un organisme vivant, la terre comme un être vivant, les planètes comme des forces invisibles influençant la croissance des plantes. Calendrier lunaire. Bouse de corne. Préparations cosmiques.

Joly écouta. Et puis il agit.

En 1980, il convertit l’intégralité du domaine à l’agriculture biodynamique — parmi les tout premiers vignerons de France à le faire. Aucune chimie. Aucun pesticide synthétique. Travail selon le calendrier lunaire. Enfouissement de bouse de corne en automne, déterrage au printemps. Préparations d’herbes pulvérisées sur les vignes. Les sols recommencèrent à vivre.

Le Monopole : Un Vignoble comme une Cathédrale

La Coulée de Serrant n’est pas un vignoble ordinaire. Elle est cultivée sans interruption depuis 1130 — presque 900 ans. Les moines cisterciens qui la créèrent ne choisirent pas ce coteau par hasard : des pentes escarpées orientées au sud, d’ardoise et de roches volcaniques, dominant un affluent de la Loire, avec une combinaison unique de chaleur, de fraîcheur et de profondeur minérale. Seulement 7 hectares. Au maximum 20 à 25 hectolitres par hectare — une fraction du maximum autorisé de 40. Partiellement travaillée avec un cheval, car la pente est trop raide pour les tracteurs.

La Coulée de Serrant est l’un des rares vignobles de France à posséder sa propre AOC en Monopole — aux côtés de la Romanée-Conti, de La Tâche et de Château Grillet. Cet honneur n’est pas un hasard. C’est la reconnaissance de près d’un millénaire d’histoire viticole sur un terroir singulier.

Le Caractère Polarisant : Pourquoi les Vins de Joly Font Débat

Aucun vigneron en France ne polarise autant que Nicolas Joly. D’un côté : Andrew Jefford, qui le salue comme le créateur de l’un des plus grands vins blancs secs de France. De l’autre : des critiques qui qualifient les vins d’oxydatifs, d’instables et techniquement incohérents. La vérité — et c’est la réponse honnête — se situe quelque part entre les deux, et dépend beaucoup de la bouteille.

Les vins de Joly sont mis en bouteille avec un minimum de soufre. C’est un choix philosophique : le soufre tue l'”énergie” du vin, croit-il. Le résultat est un vin qui vit — et qui parfois vit de manière incontrôlée. Les bonnes bouteilles sont saisissantes. Les moins bonnes peuvent être submergées par l’oxydation. Ce n’est pas une erreur du vigneron. C’est une conséquence de ses convictions.

Le 2007 est une année où cette conviction fonctionne : la richesse du millésime, son fruit opulent et sa substance naturelle donnent au vin assez de corps pour tenir — malgré le soufre minimal, malgré la maturité, malgré les 15,5%. Un vin qu’on n’oublie pas. Et sur lequel on débattra encore dans des décennies.

C’est peut-être la plus grande chose qu’on puisse dire d’un vin.

The Difficult Vintage: Why 2013 is the Most Honest Year from Domaine des Tours

In the wine world, there are easy vintages and difficult vintages. The easy ones make every winemaker look brilliant — warmth, ripeness, concentration, applause. The difficult ones sort things out. They separate winemakers from farmers, patience from impatience, conviction from adaptation.

2013 was a difficult vintage. And Domaine des Tours 2013 is perhaps the most honest wine Emmanuel Reynaud has ever made.

A Year Against the Current

The spring of 2013 in Provence was cold and wet. The flowering was irregular. The summer was capricious — warm, then cold, then warm again. Many producers in the South harvested early to avoid the worst. Reynaud did not. He waited for autumn — for those final October weeks when the weather finally cleared and the grapes found the last ripeness they needed.

The result: grapes with unusually high acidity, less concentration than in warm years, but a minerality and freshness that gave the wines a tension rare in the southern Rhône. This is not a wine you love immediately. It is a wine you understand — and then cannot put down.

What “Natural Acidity” Means

In the age of climate change, natural acidity in the South of France is a rare commodity. Most modern wines from the Vaucluse or Côtes du Rhône are acidified with purchased tartaric acid — a legal, widespread practice that is technically clean and yet misses something fundamental. The acidity must come from the grape. From the vine. From the vintage.

In the 2013 Domaine des Tours, it comes from exactly there. And you feel it. The wine has a tension, a vivacity, a precision on the palate that cannot be bought. You can only let it grow — or wait until it is there.

Reynaud waited.

The Paradox of the Cool Year in the Warm South

Here lies the paradox of 2013: in a year that the wine world labelled as difficult, Reynaud made a wine that cannot be born in many other years. Not because he did something exceptional — but because he did nothing against it. He let nature be what it was that year: cooler, more taut, more mineral than usual. And he waited until it was finished.

That is the true lesson of Domaine des Tours 2013. Not “a good wine from a difficult year.” But: “A different wine from a different year — and that is not an excuse, it is a quality.”

Anyone who knows all four vintages in the range — 2013, 2016, 2017, 2018 — drinks four different versions of the same philosophy. Four different answers to the same question: what can Grenache from Sarrians truly be? The 2013 gives the coolest, most austere and perhaps most thoughtful answer of all.

Château de Fonsalette: The Secret on the Other Side of the Boundary

Boundaries in wine are strange things. One metre of difference in location can be the difference between a simple table wine and a legendary Grand Cru — not because of the soil, not because of the grape, but because of a line that humans drew on a map.

Château de Fonsalette lives on the wrong side of that line. And makes of it one of the greatest estates in France.

1945: The Purchase That Started Everything

Louis Reynaud, grandfather of the current guardian Emmanuel Reynaud, acquired Fonsalette in 1945 — shortly after the end of the Second World War, in a France slowly rebuilding itself. The estate lies near Lagarde-Paréol, in the Côtes du Rhône area, directly at the northern edge of the Châteauneuf-du-Pape appellation. 120 hectares in total: forests, olive groves, agricultural land — and just 12 hectares of vines. This modesty of surface is not a weakness. It is intention.

The soils are complex: sand, clay, limestone — similar but not identical to the famous gravel soils of Rayas. Old-vine Grenache, Cinsault and Syrah for the reds; Grenache Blanc, Clairette and Marsanne for the whites. All harvested by hand. All vinified with the same methods as Rayas. All aged in the same cellar.

One Cellar. Three Legends.

This is the key to understanding Fonsalette: the wine is not vinified at Fonsalette itself. It travels to Emmanuel Reynaud — to Château Rayas. There, in the same mythical cellar, under the same direction, with the same old foudres and the same philosophy, the Fonsalette Rouge is born alongside the Rayas, alongside the Pignan. No temperature control. No filtration. Spontaneous fermentation. Long ageing.

What distinguishes Fonsalette from Rayas is not the method. It is the terroir — the other side of the boundary. And that makes it one of the most fascinating wines in France: a wine one does not drink because it is cheaper than Rayas. One drinks it because it is different. More deeply rooted in Cinsault and its floral lightness. Broader in its Grenache base. More accessible, but no less complex.

Cinsault: The Forgotten Pearl

In a world that worships Grenache and Syrah, Cinsault is the forgotten grape. Too light, some say. Too little colour, too little extraction. And yet: in Fonsalette, the Cinsault — up to 35% of the blend — gives the wine something Grenache alone cannot provide. Flowers. Rose. Violet. An airy lightness that keeps the wine from ever feeling heavy despite its depth. It is this lightness that distinguishes Fonsalette from every other southern Rhône wine — that Burgundian bearing that runs through every vintage.

The Price of Integrity

Fonsalette is one of the most sought-after Côtes du Rhône in the world — and one of the most expensive. Bottles from the great vintages change hands for more than 500 CHF on the secondary market. Not because there was a plan to create a luxury Côtes du Rhône. But because Emmanuel Reynaud simply does the only thing he knows: wine of absolute integrity, regardless of what is written on the label.

That is the paradox of Fonsalette. The label says Côtes du Rhône. The wine says: I am what I am. And that is enough.

Time as Ingredient: Why Reynaud Waits When Everyone Else Rushes

In the modern wine world, time is money. Wine sitting in the winemaker’s cellar is wine that is not being sold, not being paid for, not existing. The economic logic is ruthless: wine is released as soon as the law permits.

Emmanuel Reynaud does not care.

The wines of Château des Tours and Domaine des Tours are routinely released almost a decade after the harvest. Not because storage is expensive. Not because the market demands it. But because Reynaud feels the wine is not yet ready. And because he asks nobody’s opinion.

The Winemaker’s Clock is Not the Market’s Clock

When the 2018 Domaine des Tours was released, nobody asked Reynaud when it would be ready. He decided it himself — quietly, discreetly, without announcement. The wine left the cellar when it left — not a day earlier. This is not a posture. It is a conviction rooted deeply in the estate’s history.

The Reynaud family purchased the 40 hectares in Sarrians in 1935. The old mas — flanked by two distinctive towers, hence “Des Tours” — has housed four generations since. Emmanuel took over from his father Bernard, brother of the legendary Jacques. He grew up in these vineyards, knowing every stone, every vine, every corner of the cellar. Patience was not a virtue he had to learn. It was simply the air he breathed.

No Temperature Control. No Rush. No Compromise.

The wines ferment spontaneously with native yeasts — often for more than a year, slowly and coolly in underground concrete tanks. No temperature management. No pressure. The CO2 blanket of fermentation naturally protects the wine. Then come the old barrels, various sizes, no new wood for the basic red wines. No fining. No filtration.

The result is every time the same miracle: a wine that looks like little and tastes like much. That reveals its origin without betraying its recipe. That lives in the glass — and not in the marketing material.

The 2018 is the perfect illustration of what happens when an exceptional year meets an exceptional winemaker who does not regard time as an enemy, but as the final ingredient.

2016 versus 2017: Two Characters, One Soul

When you have two vintages of the same wine in your cellar — and you have the rare fortune of owning both — the same question always arises: which one do you open first? For the Domaine des Tours Vaucluse Rouge, the answer is more complex and more interesting than one might think.

The 2016 is the introverted vintage. Cool, precise, with a tension and minerality one would more likely expect from a great Burgundy. It needs time — in the glass, in the decanter, in the cellar. It is the wine for the evening that unfolds slowly, that reveals itself layer by layer, that stays with you the next morning.

The 2017 is its sociable sibling. Warmer, rounder, more open — accessible from the first sip, seductive, immediate. It needs less time. It comes to you rather than waiting. It is the wine for the moment, for the impromptu dinner, for the first glass that immediately calls for a second.

Both come from the same hands, the same vines, the same cellar. And yet they tell different stories — like two chapters of the same novel, read at different volumes.

Silence as Method

What sets Reynaud apart from almost all other winemakers is not just his philosophy — it is his silence. He gives no interviews. He attends no trade fairs. He publishes no tasting notes. He sends no press releases. The wine speaks. The winemaker is quiet.

In an era where wine marketing has become louder than ever, this silence is radical. And it works, because the wine is strong enough to speak for itself — in every vintage, in every bottle, in every glass.

The 2017 is a particularly fine example of this. Warm, direct, seductive — and yet with that unmistakable Reynaud depth that elevates it above all other country wines in its category. You drink it and think: nobody else can do this. And you are right.

Château des Tours: The Silent Genius of Sarrians

In the world of wine, there are loud geniuses and silent geniuses. Emmanuel Reynaud belongs to the second category — and it is perhaps precisely for that reason that he is one of the most influential winemakers of his generation.

The story begins with his uncle. Jacques Reynaud was a legend in his own lifetime — a recluse who lived in the crumbling Château Rayas in the Châteauneuf-du-Pape appellation, shunned the press, refused visitors and produced wines that left Parker in awe. Pure Grenache. Little colour. Explosive intensity. A style so singular it acquired a name: the Rayas style.

When Jacques Reynaud died in 1997, he left behind an inheritance almost impossible to bear. His nephew Emmanuel Reynaud, barely thirty, stepped up — with no experience of the spotlight, but with an instinct for wine that quickly proved itself to be generational talent.

Château des Tours: The Modest Brother of Rayas

Château des Tours is located in Sarrians, north of Châteauneuf-du-Pape, in the heart of the Vacqueyras and Côtes du Rhône appellations. The estate belonged to Emmanuel Reynaud’s father — it was the humble family property, while Rayas was the legend. Today, Château des Tours is no longer a secret among connoisseurs — but it has preserved its character: minimal, laconic, uncompromising.

The Vacqueyras is the estate’s flagship. 40 hectares of vines, old Grenache — some decades old — farmed organically without certification, because Reynaud rejects publicity for his methods as much as publicity for himself. The grapes are harvested as late as possible. Ripeness is not an option — it is an obsession.

The Philosophy: Grenache as Pinot Noir

What Emmanuel Reynaud does is radical in the southern Rhône: he treats his Grenache the way a Burgundian treats Pinot Noir. Little colour, enormous intensity. Light extraction, immense depth. Little or no oak. The substance comes from the grape, from the soil, from time.

The result: wines that regularly confuse specialists in blind tastings. Too little colour for Grenache. Too much finesse for the southern Rhône. Too much complexity for a Vacqueyras. And yet: this is Grenache. This is Vacqueyras. Simply in the hands of someone who truly understands what this grape can do.

A Wine That Falls Silent — Then Explodes

Reynaud’s wines are often closed in their youth. They demand air, time, patience. But those who wait, who decant, who understand — will be rewarded with an experience that has few parallels in the southern Rhône.

The 2012 Vacqueyras is today where it should be: fully open, complex, deep, with a finish that persists for minutes after the last sip. A wine you drink and immediately want to buy again. And then you realise there is almost none left.

Dom Pérignon: The Monk Who Made the World Drink Stars

There are Champagne brands. And then there is Dom Pérignon — not merely a brand, but an idea, a promise, almost a religion of pleasure. A story that began over 350 years ago and has never felt more relevant.

The year is 1668. A young Benedictine monk named Pierre Pérignon is appointed cellar master at the Abbey of Hautvillers, perched above the Marne valley in the heart of Champagne. He is 28 years old and almost blind — but he smells and tastes like no one else.

Over the next four decades, this man would change winemaking forever.

The Monk and the Stars

Dom Pérignon developed methods that still form the foundation of Champagne today: the precise assemblage of different grape varieties and terroirs into a harmonious whole, the use of thicker English glass bottles, the cork stopper in place of the then-common wax plug. He understood that Champagne was not a happy accident but a precise, planned act of creation.

When he first saw the bubbles in his glass — the result of an unexpected second fermentation — he is said to have called to his fellow monks: “Come quickly, I am drinking stars!” Whether the story is literally true or not is irrelevant. It is too true not to be true.

The Concept: Only in Exceptional Years

Dom Pérignon is not produced every year. That is the first, decisive difference from almost every other Champagne house. If the year is not sufficient — no Dom Pérignon. There was no Dom Pérignon produced in 2014 or 2016. This is not modesty. It is obsession.

Every Dom Pérignon ages for a minimum of eight years in the cellars before release. Not because the law demands it — the legal minimum would be 15 months. But because Vincent Chaperon, the current Chef de Cave, does not compromise.

The Three Plénitudes: Wine as a Living Being

Dom Pérignon believes that every vintage experiences three peaks — three “Plénitudes”: the first flowering in youth, a second unfolding after one to two decades, and a third depth after 30 years and more. It is a philosophy that treats wine as a living entity — one that breathes, evolves, matures, and never ceases to surprise.

Hautvillers: The Sacred Mountain of Champagne

The grapes for Dom Pérignon come exclusively from the 17 Grands Crus of Champagne and the Premier Cru of Hautvillers — the very vineyard Dom Pérignon himself cultivated. No purchases from outside this elite. No compromise on origin. The assemblage philosophy is radical: Chaperon describes it as the search for “harmony between the nature of the year and the signature of Dom Pérignon.”

2013: The Legacy of Two Chefs de Cave

The 2013 marks a historic moment: it is one of the last vintages still co-shaped by Richard Geoffroy, the legendary Chef de Cave from 1990 to 2018 — and the first that his successor Vincent Chaperon brought to commercial maturity. Chaperon describes the quality of the 2013 as “elegance — very simple, caressing and silky.” Two visions, one wine. A vintage that writes history.