BETWEEN THE VINES

Preface by

cĂŠdric KlaPisch

Preface by Cédric Klapisch

“One finds the work of a lifetime in a glass of wine.”

I

discovered wine thanks to my father. As soon as I was old enough to drink, I began to learn to taste with him. He never drank anything but Burgundy, and very quickly established a kind of ritual. With my two sisters, he took us about once every two years to Burgundy to visit winegrowers and cellars at different wineries. My relationship with wine and my wine culture were born from these moments, spent with my family in these traditional cellars, where we had the opportunity to discover wines made from different plots and terroirs, but also to taste several vintages of the same cuvée. That’s when I began to ask myself what was I feeling when I tasted wine.

The culture of wine is like literary culture. To know the authors and the books, one must read and reflect, and to know wine, one must drink and “question one’s mouth”. Later I discovered other wineries, other countries, and grew curious about wine. I like to hear what sommeliers have to say about a wine list, I like what Baudelaire has to say about wine and drunkenness. I like what scientists have to say about different farming methods. The

more one knows wine, the more one sees that one will never know it, for it is infinite.

For me, Burgundy is a magnificent region because it has a specificity that’s unique in the world. The geology, the solar exposure, the weather conditions, are such that each part is different, and offers a unique combination, and has minerals that allow the vine to express itself in a singular way regardless of location. With the same grape variety, Pinot Noir for red or Chardonnay for white, each plot produces different results, and each winegrower, with their way of cultivating the vine and vinifying the grapes, produces a wine with its own personality. All these elements form complex parameters in perpetual motion. When one is in Burgundy, one knows that beauty is linked to diversity.

Here, more than elsewhere, family histories are all different, for here the notion of succession between generations has a meaning that is different than in cities for example.

Today, succession is a sensitive issue in this region because the price of land has become exorbitant, and this clearly raises issues for perpetuating the Burgundian tradition.

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© Emmanuelle Jacobson-Roques - Ce qui me meut

preface

In the title of my film “Back to Burgundy” (Ce qui nous lie) I was referring to a phrase in the Bible that says: “There are two lasting bequests we can give our children: roots and wings.” We are all born in one place, we inherit something from our parents, a country, a land, these are our roots; but we also receive and transmit what’s immaterial – wings – the taste for travel, culture, humor, or generosity... all the values ​​that are not rooted in soil. This notion of transmission is essential. Even if our life is ephemeral, it allows us to dream of an idea of ​​eternity.

For a long time, I wanted to make a film about the idea of ​​passing time. I wanted to speak in parallel to the rhythm of nature and the stages of life. First, we are children, sons, then we become fathers while remaining sons. Wine perfectly illustrates how nature evolves with passing seasons, and the fact that, year after year, things inexorably start over again. Spring has always impressed me with this notion of rebirth. To see a bud hatch and become a leaf, a fruit, is extremely mysterious.

man. I almost called my film “Human Nature” because wine illustrates the way in which human beings use nature positively. It’s one of the rare products conceived with a true connection to time, and of which one can say that it ages positively. Usually, time is linked to the notion of rotting, degradation, whereas for wine, thanks to human intervention, time becomes an ally, time produces improvement.

I always make movies about people, about human activity, and I find that wine is a metaphor for human work. Just as French cinema, making wine in Burgundy is artisanal work in which the winemaker conveys his personality. There is a real notion of authorship in Burgundy wine. We find the work of a lifetime in a glass of wine.

Wine is a story that speaks to everyone because it links the cycle of nature to that of

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FOREWORD

FOREWORD

In vino humanitas

I

have always liked to meet winegrowers, listen to their stories, discover their wines, hear them express their pride. It often takes a few minutes for them to open up and express themselves freely about their work, with its share of difficulties, uncertainties, and doubts. But once the ice is broken, the meeting is often unforgettable, so complete is their involvement. The complexity of their occupation, subject to the vagaries of weather, commerce, fashion, and legal constraints, has often hardened them, but their passion remains intact and expressive.

It is the pleasure of these exchanges that I wanted to share with those who love wine but who don’t necessarily have the opportunity to regularly visit wineries. I would like curious spirits whose interest goes beyond the name of the grape and the AOC to discover the women and the men who hide behind the labels. For that I wanted to make these portraits as lively as possible, giving voice to the winegrowers through unbridled discussions, so that they can express themselves as freely and naturally as their wines. No filters, no additives, it is their words, their voices, their sto-

ries, and their images that give this book its substance. As I go through these pages, I hope to place you next to them, in their cellars, during the harvest, and between their vines.

At a time when consumers are being cheated by a production system that downgrades the quality of food products, where the notion of taste and terroir disappears in favor of a rampant search for standardization in which farmers, treated increasingly like machines, are pushed to manage production with volume and profitability as the sole parameters, some winegrowers have decided to resist. Because they are not only producers of their raw material but also process it and distribute the final product, because they are in direct contact with the final consumer, they are currently the people best placed to evaluate this system, to judge it, and to make it evolve.

I chose to dedicate this book to fifteen Burgundy winegrowers because this historic wine region, subject to strong economic pressure, concentrates within a tiny perimeter all the commercial, environmental, and ethical issues that currently agitate vineyards in France and around the world. These fifteen

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fOre W OrD

craftspeople have chosen different paths in viticulture and winemaking, but share an interest in expressing themselves honestly about their choices, whatever they may be, and favor the quality of terroir wines over easy trendy wines.

GuillaumE

haRRy

If this book is a personal project that I have held dear for many years, it would not have seen the light without my two partners. Harry Annoni, long-time friend and talented photographer with whom I had long dreamed of collaborating, was able to obtain lively, dynamic, and authentic pictures from our encounters, perfectly capturing the personality of our subjects in their environment.

Frédéric Henry, a friend and wine merchant in Beaune, was the conductor of our trips into the heart of the vineyards, which took place over the course of a year. He brought his acute knowledge of the terroirs, his recognized expertise, and, also, his sense of humor, which allowed all the conversations to take place in a truly friendly atmosphere.

Above all, this book would never have been possible without the trust deposited in us by the fifteen “artists” present in these pages. More than their doors, they agreed to open for us a window into their lives, for if their wines are so remarkable and singular, this is because, in addition to time, work, and effort, they put a great deal of themselves into them. Grapes, dreams, audacity and passion, the essential elements in the creation of great wines, and a measure of the men and women who bring them to life.

GuillaumE laRoChE fRédéRiC

oswaldo CoRRÊa da CosTa is an economist, musician, writer, and contemporary art critic who has been visiting wineries and studying wine actively for the last two decades. He is a member of Wine Disorder, an internet forum dedicated to natural wines, and manages Vinhos Naturais e Tradicionais, a Portuguese language Facebook wine forum. He collaborates with Raisin, the French natural wine app. His favorite regions are Burgundy and the Loire, but is happy to drink wine from any region where grapes struggle to mature, where natural acidity is sufficient, and where oak is neutral.

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beTWeeN THe VINeS

table Of cOntents aThénaïs dE BERu

The search for balance

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PiERRE BoilloT

The truth of terroir

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CéCilE TREmBlay

Perpetual motion

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JEan-yvEs BiZoT

Artist and explorer

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maRiE-ChRisTinE & maRiE-andRéE muGnERET

In one voice

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oRonCE dE BElER

Elitist-farmer

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ClaiRE naudin

In all sensitivity

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fRanÇois dE niColay

Modernizing tradition

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EmmanuEl GiBouloT

Hero after all

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ThiERRy GlanTEnay

The school of prudence

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REnaud BoyER

Anti-standard

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anToinE JoBaRd

Self-evident

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dominiQuE dERain

The Precursor

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PiERRE fEnals

In search of harmony

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JuliEn GuilloT

Free-thinker

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GlossaRy

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aCknowlEdGmEnTs

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009

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ATHÉNAÏS de béru

The search for balance To fully flourish, vines, like women and men, need solid roots. Athénaïs de Béru knows this better than anyone.

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thénaïs is late. Or else we’re not in the right place. However, in the village of Béru, it’s not easy to get lost, one must put in a certain effort. No, surely, we are in the right place. So, she’s late. The house is in front of us, like the signs pointing to the winery, but there is no one in sight. At last, a horse appears, meticulously plowing the vineyard below. A pretty sight by the way. We knock on doors – there are many – but no answer. Fortunately, the view is beautiful on the heights of Béru and the sun is with us. On the other hand, phone reception is not very reliable. Luckily, she answers. She’s in the vineyards. Did she forget us? Yes, and no. It’s a bit uncertain, but you’ll have to get used to it. When you ask for time from winegrowers who are close to their land, to their fruit, and who often have fifteen hour work days, short conversations with visitors can sometimes seem pointless, or at least secondary.

« Working in the vineyards throughout the year, one feels part of a perpetual motion. » Athénaïs arrives wearing a leather jacket and plaid shirt, and her pace is fast. At first glance, it’s hard to imagine that she’s coming from her vineyard. Only the ten kilograms of fresh soil stuck under her boots betray her morning activity. As an introduction, she offers us a quick tour. Before us, the famous Clos Béru appears in seasonal dress. Well, not really. “It feels like spring, it’s like the Amazon rainforest, it’s depressing” (laughter) she explains, impressed by the vitality of the vegetation at this point in early December, with temperatures nearing 10°C. “Over there it’s green, green, green. We’re wearing shirts in the vines, we’re dying of heat!” If this unusual balminess ine-

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vitably generates a surplus of work to control this early and anarchic growth, on the other hand it saves us from having to take shelter by the fire to begin the interview. It comes in handy, since it’s obviously among the vines that we are best able to grasp the cultivation methods of this passionate young winegrower for whom soil work and biodynamics* have clearly been a revelation. « I took over the vines between 2006 and 2009, so some of them have only been worked only since 2009. All together, we have fifteen hectares. As and when I took over during those four years, I began the conversion to organic. That allowed me to do it gradually and learn the craft little by little. Today, we are 100% organic, and 100% biodynamic since 2010, when we really went over the speed limit. But in 2009, we began with the North side! (Laughter). These were vines that my family had entrusted for twenty-five years to a farmer who had more or less maintained them, but he sold all his harvests to the cooperative. It was therefore a logic of production, of volume, and not very quality oriented. These are very average clones, planted in the early 1980s using a very technical approach, with a well-established phytosanitary calendar. There wasn’t much sense of peasantry in the work that was done. We had to replace 30% of the vines. The vineyard had produced 90 hl/ha* for twenty years, but that’s common in Chablis, and is still done; 100/120 hl doesn’t frighten them!

For me, cultivating with respect for the land and the environment has always been essential. Let’s say that it’s a kind of philosophy in a broader sense, it’s a global way of living. We question what we consume, the importance of seasons, and what happens around us. So, it’s impossible to imagine working otherwise. What has always inspired me is what we do throughout the year in the vineyards. It feels like perpetual movement. This further consolidates our transition to biodynamics. For me, it’s really a stronger connection with nature: to understand what’s happening in our environment, and how to use the natural force of the vine and transfer it to our wines. When we carry out all these gestures, we understand even

Athénaïs de béru

better. We say that we didn’t really invent anything, but that if we could do things as well as they have been done for centuries, that would already be a good objective. And that’s something that I really discovered in practice. The other very pragmatic and selfish aspect about being organic is that we are

every day in our vineyards, throughout the year, and we are not keen on spraying disgusting products on our heads. In the end, we want to produce beautiful grapes to achieve quality wines that reflect the image of the various terroirs, and this is impossible without working in a natural way! Beyond the use of

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« Since the first year, the reaction has been phenomenal. It’s impressive and maddening at once. »

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chemicals, it’s inconceivable from a purely agricultural point of view. Upfront, of course, there’s a lot of investment – mostly human, since you save on products, because everything you use in biodynamics doesn’t really cost anything – but, in the end, there’s a balance between all the expenses. And then we value our production even more. » In 2011, many producers in the region wanted to go organic. The concept was fashionable from a marketing standpoint, and consumers were becoming more and more interested. The idea of ​​being able to work in a healthier manner while selling products for more didn’t seem unattractive at all. Unfortunately, the trendy aspect faded quickly when the first difficulties appeared. « 2011 was a superb year, it was easy, it went well. And then, with 2012 and 2013, it was panic on board. For those undergoing their first year of conversion to organic, it was terrible. They told themselves: “Organic is impossible in Chablis!”

And so, done deal, it was all over. They were wrong because, organic or not, everyone lost the same that year. It’s normal to get scared. From the moment you change the system, when the vine was used to another equilibrium, you must go through a few years of transition. That is independent of climatic hazards. In our personal experience, we are only beginning to find a balance that allows us to have a good output. The first two or three years, during the conversion period, one has to accept losses in yield. They’re not negligible, for sure, but they only last two or three years, not twenty. The anti-organic crowd often uses the cliché “If we become organic, we produce nothing.” That is totally false! In 2015 we are very happy, the yield from our vines was between 50 and 55 hl/ha. That is even more than we had expected. In 2011, it was the same thing. But between 2006 and 2009, our first years of organic farming, we did produce less.

You have to find this balance. One goes from a model with herbicides, with a very superficial root system – here the soil had not been ploughed for twenty years, they scratched only five centimeters, there were roots growing horizontally – to a model where, suddenly, the soil is plowed. We inevitably sever some roots, we starve the vine a little, be-

cause it no longer has roots to seek nourishment, and then, at the same time, we release in nature all the fertilizers that were used in the past, but which the vine was no longer able to assimilate because there were no more microorganisms, there wasn’t anything left. Instead, air goes back in, and we use preparations that restore or stimulate microorganisms. And then, suddenly, it’s as if somebody force-fed you for a year. It’s super-fast! In the first year, we had simultaneously plants that grew profusely and that we had great difficulty in controlling, and significant organic matter made absorbable by our tilling. We had cabbage leaves instead of vine leaves, a kind of excessive vigor. The grape bunches were much more susceptible to disease, to rot, so there was complete imbalance.

Everything was going backwards. We told ourselves “What have we done? This is the opposite of what we expected when we talked to all these organic winemakers. They were not at all in their vineyards” (laughter). But, from the first year, the reaction has been phenomenal. It’s impressive and frightening, because we think there’s too much competition, so we’re going to lose some of the harvest. And, at the same time, we stopped using the products that the vine was used to receiving. We only use sulfur and copper*, herbal teas*, essential oils, and we say, “Go on, it’s up to you to look after yourself now.” But, in fact, it doesn’t work at all in the beginning (laughter), and that’s normal. If you’ve always been treated with antibiotics, if you’re not healthy, if you are tired, and suddenly you’re told to treat yourself only with chamomile, bah, it’ll work, but you’ll have to stay in bed for three weeks, the time needed for the body to rebuild its immune system. Well, that’s what we experienced with the plant. It was therefore necessary to react quickly and discover how to help it regain strength and redevelop an immune system that would enable it to evolve, to grow, and to produce under the natural conditions that we impose. All this work is still being put in place today. And that can take a lifetime! (laughter). The exchanges I’ve had with winegrowers who have been doing this far longer than I confirm that it’s really a life project. One can spend years trying to better understand, improve, evolve, adapt to the weather, to the various vintages, to the various types of soil. »

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« The idea of g​​ oing back and establishing myself both seduced and terrified me. » We are struck by the energy of this young woman. We knew that she was a good communicator – notably because of her mastery of social networks, on which she’s very active – and we were expecting, surely unconsciously, to meet a winemaker 2.0, a dynamic young entrepreneur, trained in the workings of wine trade and open to the world, rather than a committed farmer, passionate about vegetative cycles, engaged in manual work, which is essential, but often thankless and unpleasant. In short, if Athénaïs had been a little Parisian “hipster” sporting Converses and an iPhone X, we would not have been entirely surprised. Yes, but no. Because working the land, her land, restoring life to this family vineyard and seeing it grow, regain strength, this is what motivates her today. We are led to draw a parallel with her personal history: native of Chablis, uprooted, Parisian by adoption, restored to the land, and now blissfully happy among her vines.

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« My family has been making wine continuously since the 17th century (1627, to be exact). But at the beginning of the 19th, my grandparents moved a little away from the vineyard and then were hit

by Phylloxera*. It was my father who replanted the vineyard in the 1980s in order to become a winemaker. And then, suddenly, he had major health problems and, overnight, was forced to lease the vineyards to a farmer. This is how the produce of all our vineyards came to be sold in bulk to the cooperative, and to merchants. My father was hospitalized for a long time in Paris, so we went to live there with my mother and my younger brother. A few years later, my father died, but we were totally removed from the world of wine. We came here often for vacations because it was our family home, our country house. We have a very strong family culture surrounding wine, but we no longer had any contact with the professional and technical sides. Our lease with the farmer lasted over thirty-five years, so we really didn’t think about our vines. As a result, each of us built a life. I studied economics and finance, and ended up in a bank specialized in wealth management. I then joined a team specializing in winery investments. We were working on the purchase and sale of wineries. So, I found myself, via finance, gradually back in the wine world. But I had not lost contact with wine; I already had a small personal cellar, often went to

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tastings in Paris, and had lots of winemaker buddies. It was this universe that encouraged me to embark on the adventure when the opportunity arose.

In 2004, the farmer calls us and announces that he wants to retire two years later and that his son is not interested in taking over the remainder of the lease. That kind of thing never happens. We were quite put out, because my mother didn’t want to manage the estate at all. My brother is very urban, in a different circuit completely, and I was into my stuff, into finance. I was very attracted to the world of wine and fundamentally attached to this place, to this house. The idea of ​​going back and establishing myself both seduced and terrified me. I felt divided, but it was also good timing. I wanted to change, and embark on a more personal, more entrepreneurial adventure. Anyway, we had to decide everything within twenty-four hours. So, I didn’t think very long and offered the family that I become the new farmer. They thought that was great, and went, “Here you go!” (she jokingly mimics the gesture of throwing a ball). It was a bit of a hot potato. “There, it’s all signed. Off you go. Good luck!” (laughter) Then I negotiated with the farmer so he wouldn’t leave us all of a sudden, postponing his retirement a few more years. He agreed, and put the deadline at the end of 2009. So, we spread the recovery of the vineyards over four years.

I enrolled in Beaune where I did a BPREA (Professional Agricultural Operation Responsibility Certificate)* in one year. My first harvest and vinification was at Chandon de Briailles with François Nicolay (see page 122). I also made wine in South Africa and then, starting in 2006, I began to get my vines back. This was minimal training that had simply taught me the basics. For example, I knew nothing about the vegetative cycle, or the order of tasks in the vineyard. Then I did internships here and there. Three days here to rack*, three days there to vinify*. But the problem was that I didn’t have anyone to teach me the job on a daily basis, to transmit the gestures. I would have loved to have learned that with my father, but hey, maybe it wouldn’t have happened that way. The advantage, on the other hand, was that I could do exactly as I wanted, without constraints or barriers. Luckily, I received a lot of help from Alice and Olivier (De Moor) and Thomas (Pico). They lent me equipment, because there was nothing at all here, no equipment and no staff. There were just a few stainless-steel tanks from my father’s time. So, I had to find good, passionate people who wanted to work this way, preferably more knowledgeable than I, because if we all came with my level of technical background, we risked not going very far (laughter). Today, we are five, plus a part-time accountant. These are people who have been working the

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vines for a long time, who have real experience, who were not necessarily into organic practices, but who were determined, and had the desire to work that way.

For my part, I must say that I arrived as a tourist. I told myself, “It’s nice, it’s an adventure, I put together my own winery.” But I had a lot of questions. I didn’t know if I was going to work in my vineyards, make my wine, have a cellar master, distribute, there were no taboos. I decided that I wasn’t going to force myself to do something I didn’t know how to do, or didn’t want to do. I hadn’t really found my place in my own project. That came about somewhat despite myself. The problem is that I wanted to do everything. Now, I have to delegate a little because I’m beginning to overload. It’s a tough job, physically tough, and emotionally complicated when we’ve had vintages like those we’ve seen. Today, my team has been stable for three, four years, and are humanly superb. It has helped me to gain confidence, to delegate. It has built over time, and takes a while. We’re currently in a mature phase, which is much more comfortable, and allows us to explore, to experiment. »

« In Chablis, we are in a hostile environment.

We are in the resistance. » Although located more than a hundred kilometers north of Beaune, Chablis is considered, like Mâcon, a solar terroir. It must be said that we are far from the humid climate of the Côte de Beaune, where the fog loves to nestle delicately in order to hibernate during the long winter months. The Saone has taken distance and the influence is clearly continental. At the Château de Béru, it’s even better, since the village is located 400 meters above sea level. The vines encircling this hill benefit from exceptional sunshine, especially the Clos Béru, located on the southern slope. Here, one harvests healthy, ripe grapes, that produce ample, dense, complex wines, that contrast with the image of the ‘‘good little bar white’’ Chablis that some

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people make. Athénaïs wants to break from this characterization, one that has made the wines of the region symbols of industrial viticulture, standardized juices destined for a mass market. In his book Adventures on the Wine Route, Kermit Lynch, the famous American importer, said that “Loving Chablis is like falling in love with a frigid floozy. You begin to wonder if the rewards are worth the heartbreak and deception.” If he had been able to meet Athénaïs, no doubt his stay in Yonne would have been sweeter. « In Chablis, not many of us work organically, but we form a good group, who found ourselves in the resistance despite ourselves. We are in an environment that’s very hostile to this entire natural approach, be it organic or biodynamic. I think it’s because of a mix of jealousy and fear of change. There’s also the fact that, at first, nobody cared about the organic estates, they were just a few, small wineries. But these small wineries work very well, and somewhat enhance the image of Chablis, which had become a very standardized product. It must be said that yields of over 100 hl/ha are frightening, and also that there’s a hidden market that sustains this volume: when some make too much, they sell to those who don’t make enough, and if we examine the crop reports, everybody makes 60 hl/ha every year, even in the vintages where there’s hail. One wonders where it comes from. I have been denouncing this system for quite a number of years. It’s not pleasant, I’m at war with everybody! (laughter) There’s really an enormous undeclared volume that maintains a price level, because Chablis is a very powerful economy, it’s a very strong denomination, and very dynamic, economically-speaking, with a fine reputation. It has really become a brand. The downside is that the winegrowers don’t have to question themselves, because the business runs by itself; whether in bulk or in bottles, it’s an easy sell. It’s hard to ask grape growers who sell everything to the cooperative, at a hectoliter price that’s quite high, who are not motivated towards quality, and get no premium for it, to suddenly produce less and improve quality. They stare at you and say: “But why?” Unless they have this really crazy desire to respect the environment, otherwise it makes no sense to them.

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“The great crus of Chablis are wasted terroirs.”

Apart from prestigious estates one finds on the fine wine lists of great restaurants, more sophisticated wine lovers have grown a little disappointed with our AOC (Appellation d’Origine Controlée) and prefer to drink something else. Incidentally, people don’t necessarily know this, because Vincent Dauvissat is someone who communicates very little, but he has worked his soils biodynamically for a long time, even if he doesn’t brag about it. For example, He’s good friends with Pierre Masson (biodynamic advisor). He certainly has the most beautiful vineyards in Chablis. In large wineries there are also people who do good work, but in this kind of winery, it’s a bit like Champagne, the wines have a certain taste, and their clients are attached to that.

So, they have very standardized vinification procedures. There are many oenological interventions, they machine-harvest, so they add sulfites, they add yeasts, the wines are fined and filtered, but that pleases. There are no bad wines in their production, far from it, but I still think the great crus of Chablis are wasted terroirs. These days, when one blind-tastes Chablis villages and grand cru from these wineries, one prefers their villages. The taste difference is minimal, while there are huge differences, in terms of terroir, between a flat clay terrain and the pure Kimmeridgian1 hills of the great crus, where there are very deep soils, with lots of really interesting geological layers. There’s the potential to do wonders. Overall, the quality level is not there with the grand crus, even if there are exceptions. Consumers expect a flavor of Chablis, so every great house produces wines along these lines. Until these same consumers taste something else. The problem is that there were few alternatives. The De Moors were about the only ones until now, and it’s not with their six or seven hectares that they can change things. Even today, if we add Thomas Pico and two or three others, it’s still not enough to change the image of Chablis. But, des1. Geological period dating from 150 million years ago and belonging to the Late Jurassic era. It is recognized as the essential element of the best Chablis wines.

pite everything, I’m beginning to see people – not necessarily natural wine lovers, because we are not part of this trend at any cost – who say, “Well, it’s funny, your wines don’t taste like Chablis.” Then I ask them, “What is the taste of Chablis?”. And, indeed, the aromas they describe strongly resemble those of a wine with sulfites, and they associate that with minerality (laughter). When we are told that our wines don’t resemble the kinds of Chablis that they’re used to drinking, we take that as a compliment (laughter). People find them very ripe. We explain that we have smaller yields, that we harvest at maturity, etc. Our denomination is not supposed to produce wines at 11° that require chaptalization. We sometimes even try to harvest earlier to avoid having Chablis at 13°.

There are really only two Chablis markets in the world: there’s a volume market, very present in England, in large supermarkets, everywhere across the US and Asia as well, and a more “high end” market that works with restaurants, where we find a few classic houses, the two iconic winemakers and then our little, more naturally-oriented group which is gradually gaining ground. We developed very quickly, and that’s when you realize that there was an important demand from lovers of wines from our region. It’s a real breath of fresh air for them. There were these wide-open lanes in these supposedly saturated markets. More generally, there’s a real business opportunity for every Burgundy winemaker who works according to this philosophy and attributes importance to their terroir. The idea is that, little by little, we sow the seeds, because there will be more of us following this path and we will sell more wine. We are in a field where competition is very strong, so that, ultimately, the more we are, the better it works. We have always referred customers to each other. For instance, Thomas and I have a great deal of customers in common, and never saw that as a risk. On the contrary, we sell twice as much wine by combining all our networks. But that’s not really the spirit of the denomination. »

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« I didn’t have anyone to teach me the job. I would have loved to have learned that with my father. » We return to the Château de Béru and go down to the cellar, quite a bit smaller than we might have expected from the size of the other buildings, notably the majestic courtyard that faces a magnificent mansion, its facade decorated with twenty-one windows, and also a 13th century tower with rare solar and lunar dials, or even a superb dovecote, with 1,500 pigeonholes. In the cellar, some sixty barrels are aligned, as well as two beautiful Georgian amphorae for orange wine experiments. It’s an ideal context for talking about Athénaïs’ winemaking methods. « Biodynamics completely changes your vision in the winery, it completely changes the wines. It’s really interesting because, from the first vintage, this began to evolve. Each year we begin the wine-

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making with grapes that have greater balance and complexity than the previous year. We have raw material with more energy, more balance, more potential, it’s a blessing! With biodynamics, everything is linked. We notice that with the level of stability, the pH*, the acidities. We observe tremendous differences from one year to the next in terms of the wine’s tendency towards oxidation*. Like the vines, the wines develop a kind of immune system, so that they don’t oxidize in contact with air. They have a structure, a chemical composition, that reduces their sensitivity to the hazards that affect them. From the moment that we began to vinify naturally, many living organisms began to coexist, because we don’t destroy them. We don’t do any fining, and use no sulfur, or very little. The wine has greater natural stability, balance, and will develop less bad bacteria, and so on. All of that I have been able to observe in the course of my winemaking since 2006.

I’m tempted to say that now, after ten years, while still remaining vigilant, I feel that we can watch the wines make themselves serenely. While, in the beginning, there was always a tank or barrel that was problematic. There was always a bacterium, or a bad strain of yeast, that was developing. When I

taste the 2006s, I see a clear difference. It was my first vintage, we had to put something out, and I’m really proud of them, but today, I understand their imbalances better. I know these largely come, not from winemaking mistakes, but from the raw material that we had at the time. Once we had understood all these natural mechanisms that interact, we were able to use them much more effectively to work even better.

I launched a small négoce (a business that works with purchased grapes) in 2010 with the idea of making some reds. I also have a vine-planting project in Irancy. I would really like it if we had our own vineyard, because the purchase of grapes is still rather limiting. Even if we work with organic farmers, I came to the conclusion that we cannot make the same wines. Certain people, who are superb winemakers, might say the opposite. Some have small businesses that are really sharp, where they manage to make extraordinary wines from purchased grapes. That’s the case with Oronce Beler, for example (see page 88). We’re friends, and our conversations are often interesting, because we have quite different views sometimes (laugh-

ter). One must say that, even if he doesn’t have the best grapes in the world, he will accumulate a series of good decisions that will result in very cool wines, with his own style. I love his wines, but if he also had great grapes... That’s what I see with my little négoce experience. Even if the grapes we buy are beautiful, there’s a real gap between them and those that we produced ourselves. Perhaps this has to do with biodynamics, I don’t know, but there’s an energy and balance that I don’t find in négoce wines. After that, there are also partnerships, exchanges between friends. For example, we trade grapes with the De Moors. I give them some Chablis for their Vendageur Masqué (Masked Picker) négoce wine and they give me some Aligoté from their superb centenary vines I use for skin maceration*. » Though Athénaïs knows very clearly where she’s going, she has not yet been clearly recognized by fans and critics. Not really in the mainstream of “guaranteed sulfur-free,” ultra natural wines, her neoclassical positioning may seem difficult to grasp for those who like small boxes in which to judiciously place each producer. But, obviously, she doesn’t lose any sleep over it.

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Athénaïs de béru

« Sulfur is a question mark for many winemakers, I think. What to do, when to use, a lot, not a lot, none at all? In any case, I think we should try not to use it systematically. My practices have evolved quite a bit in ten years. I never added a lot of sulfites, but it’s true that, between the balance I had at the beginning and what I have now, I can allow myself not to have the same approach. I, no doubt, also learned to use it better, in smaller doses, with better timing. We don’t use sulfur at all when pressing, when harvesting, or during maturation. The first time I use it, and it’s not systematic, is when I rack* for the blending of lots. Then, we add it a second time during bottling. The 2014s received about two grams in total, for example. That comes to about 25 mg/L of total SO2*. In 2006, we were closer to 50 or 60 mg. Which was already not so high, but corresponded to the balance of the wine at the time. Furthermore, I would say that everyone has different objectives. For me, it’s not an end in itself to make wines without sulfur. What is interesting is not to make wine without sulfur, but to make natural wines, i.e. as naturally as possible, in the vineyard and in the cellar. But if we need to use a little bit, I think we should reserve the possibility of doing so. I’m not interested in participating in a unanimous movement. I had a very interesting conversation with Philippe Jambon (well-known Beaujolais winemaker who doesn’t use sulfur at all during winemaking) just yesterday. He has five vintages in the cellar that have still not been bottled. It was interesting, because he wants to make wines without sulfur at all cost that’s his banner, but he finds that he cannot bottle them in their current state. He has some that are still fermenting after five years! So, it’s endless. I’d be the last person to allow myself to pass judgment on his work, especially because he makes wines that are sometimes exceptional, but it’s a very complicated way of working. He is lucid about the complexity of his choices, and is often not satisfied with the wines he bottles, so he’s sometimes a bit stuck. We all have very different approaches. I don’t like labels much. Currently, we are not in the group of zero sulfur extremists, but we are also not in the classic Chablis mold. Sometimes we wonder we are exactly (laughter). But sulfur is a great subject because we meet at more and more tastings where the first question people ask you is: “What is the total sulfur in your wine?” (She sighs). It’s

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a bit tiring, because there’s so much more to my wine than total sulfur. It would be nicer to talk about the rest. It’s a bit limiting, given all the work you did before. And then, often, the people who ask you that don’t know anything. They were told “20 is good,” so if you’re not 20, they make a terrible face and say to you: “Ooh la la, you use a lot.” When there are much worse additives*, but folks are focused on that because of the natural wine movement. Particularly when natural wines are often made by négociants, by young people who buy grapes here and there and then make wine. Personally, I find it more interesting to talk to a winemaker who has spent twenty years asking himself about balance in his vineyards, and who treats them with 500 grams of copper and a mix of infusions. There I say, “Wow!” There we have things to talk about, especially if the guy is in the Loire, or in Burgundy, in the famous regions where you’re told it’s impossible to be organic. » When she returned to her family estate, Athénaïs revived the vineyard, but also found herself. Today, she’s one of the spearheads of the new Chablis rebel generation that advocates quality above everything, even at the expense of yields. As she explains very well, her history is the result of a solitary rite of passage, and a very strong family heritage. The signs are sometimes too obvious to be ignored. The premature termination of the lease was certainly one. No doubt she was destined to inherit this family estate, and pursue the unfinished dream of her father, of whom she speaks with emotion, but also a lot of reserve. “When I moved in and took over the domain, there were no bottles left,” she recalls. “My father had liquidated all the inventory. It took several years, but I managed to find a few bottles that he had vinified. I guard the preciously, they’re my little treasure.” Reconnecting with the past and with her childhood in the vineyards was necessarily also a way to find a connection with he who planted them. From the beginning, this allowed her to embark on the adventure with a clear vision and a strong emotional connection to this land that must be cultivated and respected for it to give you its best. Her roots once again buried deep, Athénaïs has found her balance. This, too, is a treasure. n

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chÂteau de béru loCaTion

whiTE winEs

CREaTion daTE

Chablis Terroir de Béru Chablis Côte aux Prêtres Chablis l’orangerie Chablis 1er Cru vaucoupin Chablis Clos Béru

Béru (Chablis) 2006

ToTal suRfaCE

15 ha

TyPE of aGRiCulTuRE

Biodynamic, Demeter certified TyPE of winEmakinG

Natural, with little or no sulfur PRoduCTion REd / whiTE 100%

avERaGE PRoduCTion PER yEaR

65,000 bottles

disTRiBuTion fRanCE / EXPoRT 30%

70%

clOs béru mOnOPOle it is from this special terroir, consisting mostly of calcareous, but also clay soils, that athénaïs produces one of her finest wines. le Clos Béru combines power and roundness, perfectly balanced by a minerality and a salinity that are typical of the greatest terroirs of Chablis.

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cHabLIS

athénaÏs de béru

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Preface by

cédric KlaPisch